Hermione decided to spend her Sunday afternoon by the Black Lake, basking in the early autumn rays of the sun while she could. She sat on the grass, her jeans-clad legs drawn up as she stared out across the water, lost in thought.

The soft crunch of footsteps on the grass pulled her from her reverie, and she jumped slightly when she saw Sirius settle down beside her, a rare seriousness in his eyes.

"Is it because of my family?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability she hadn't expected.

"What?" she replied, caught off guard.

Sirius looked out over the lake, his gaze distant. "Because I'm nothing like them. I try very hard to distance myself from everything they stand for," he said, his tone earnest, almost pleading.

Hermione blinked, taken aback. It was one thing to know that Sirius had rejected his family's beliefs, but seeing the raw emotion on his face—the fear that she might judge him for something he had no control over—made her heart twist.

"Sirius," she said softly, her tone gentle, "it's not about your family. I don't... I don't see you like that."

He looked at her then, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Then what is it?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Because I can't figure it out, Kitten. You're always so... distant with me."

Hermione's throat tightened, and she looked down, picking at the blades of grass. "It's not you," she said carefully, weighing each word. Not the current you. "It's just... I have a lot on my mind. Things I can't explain right now. It's not about you or your family."

"But you don't trust me," Sirius said, his voice thick with frustration. "I can tell. You're different with me than you are with the others. Like you're expecting me to hurt you or... or do something awful."

Hermione bit her lip, her mind racing. She knew she wasn't being fair, judging him on some future knowledge, but she couldn't control her automatic reactions. "It's not about trust exactly," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "It's just... I feel like you're really unpredictable sometimes, and it makes me anxious."

Sirius looked taken aback, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. "Unpredictable?" he echoed, his tone uncertain. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed, feeling the weight of her own confusion pressing down on her. "You're... intense," she said carefully. "One minute, you're laughing and joking, and the next, you're pulling some prank or getting in someone's face. I never know what to expect from you."

Sirius was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I guess I never thought of it that way," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I just... I don't like being bored, you know? And sometimes I act without thinking. But I would never hurt you, Hermione. Not on purpose."

She regarded him for a while, hearing the sincerity in his voice, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. She had a feeling this wasn't a side of him he showed often.

"Okay," she said in the end, fully committing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay? That's it?" he asked, his tone almost disbelieving, as if he'd expected a harsher verdict.

"I'll trust you," Hermione said, her voice steady. "Until you give me a reason not to."

Sirius's eyes widened slightly, as if her words had hit him harder than he'd expected. A slow, tentative smile spread across his face, and he nodded. "I'll take that," he said, relief evident in his tone. "And I promise, I won't give you a reason to regret it."

"Good," Hermione said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Sirius's grin widened, a spark of his usual playfulness returning. "Do I get permanent Sirius status now? Or was this just a one-time thing?"

Hermione pretended to consider it, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Hmm... I suppose you've earned it," she said with a teasing smile.

Sirius's face lit up. "So I can do pranks again?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"No," Hermione said firmly, raising an eyebrow. "Your week is not up yet."

Sirius groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock despair. "You are a cruel mistress, Kitten!" he exclaimed, clutching his heart as if he'd been mortally wounded.

Hermione laughed, genuinely this time, shaking her head. "You agreed to the terms," she reminded him. "And I'm holding you to them."

"Fair enough," Sirius said with a sigh, though the playful glint in his eyes never dimmed. "But once this week is over, you'd better watch your back."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make up for lost time," Hermione replied, unable to keep the smile off her face. "But until then, you'll just have to suffer."

Sirius leaned back with a grin, clearly enjoying the banter. "I think I like you, Hermione Prewett," he said, the words carrying a surprising note of sincerity beneath the teasing.

Hermione smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Would be a shame if you didn't, especially after making me part of your secret boy club."

Sirius laughed, the sound full of genuine amusement. "Oh, it's not just a boy club anymore," he said, giving her a playful nudge with his shoulder. "You've officially broken the mould."

Hermione chuckled, then paused, curiosity getting the better of her. "Why did you decide to include me anyway?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I've barely been here a week."

Sirius shrugged, his grin widening. "I guess we like our strays," he said casually. "You looked like you could use a bit of mischief."

Hermione smiled at the answer, but she could see there was more to it. Something unspoken lingered behind his words, and the way his eyes shifted ever so slightly told her that there were layers to his reasoning he wasn't ready to share. It wasn't just about being a stray or looking like she needed a laugh—it was something deeper.

She wondered when they—or she guessed it was really Remus—would fess up and tell her the real reason they had been so quick to adopt her into their group. That she had unknowingly passed an unspoken test regarding werewolves, one they didn't even realise they were administering. Her acceptance, her lack of fear, had clearly meant something to them—more than they were ready to admit.

But she didn't press. Instead, she leaned back into the grass, spread-eagle, staring up at the impossibly blue sky. For a moment, everything felt peaceful, the sunlight warm on her face.

Suddenly, Sirius was in her field of vision, blocking out the sky as he leaned in close, his face hovering inches above hers. A familiar smirk tugged at his lips, a challenge dancing in his eyes. He was clearly testing boundaries, pushing just to see how far he could go.

Hermione didn't flinch, holding his gaze, refusing to give him the reaction he seemed to crave. For a second, it looked like he might back off, but then, out of nowhere, he leaned down and licked her face with a quick swipe of his tongue.

"Ew! Sirius!" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-disgusted as she shoved him away, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "What is wrong with you?"

Sirius burst out laughing, doubling over as he rolled onto his back beside her. "You should have seen your face!" he managed between laughs, clearly delighted by her reaction. "I couldn't resist!"

Hermione sat up, giving him a glare that was only half-serious. "You're like an overgrown puppy," she said, shaking her head in exasperation. "A very annoying overgrown puppy."

"Maybe I am," Sirius said, still grinning as he sprawled out on the grass beside her. "But you didn't flinch. I'll give you that."

"Well, it's going to take more than a slobbery lick to scare me off," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling with amusement despite herself.

Sirius's smile softened a fraction, and he leaned back on his elbows, glancing up at the sky. "Good," he said quietly. "Because we're not exactly known for making things easy."

"Yeah," Hermione said, lying back down beside him with a resigned sigh. "I'm starting to get that."

Hermione should have known better than to walk alone through the corridors. Especially after the stunt she'd pulled defending those Hufflepuffs. She hadn't even known the Slytherins' names at the time, Travers and Mulciber as they helpfully pointed out now, who seemed all too ready to make trouble. They hadn't taken kindly to her interference.

And now here she was, cornered herself, wandless after having been hit with Expelliarmus from behind, with the very same two looming over her, a smirk on Mulciber's face.

"Thought you'd get away with it, did you, Prewett?" he sneered.

Travers leaned in, his voice low and mocking. "What's it they call you? Kitten, right? Not much of a lioness without your little friends, are you?"

Hermione's heart pounded, but she lifted her chin, refusing to show fear. She opened her mouth to retort when—

"Well, well. What have we here?"

James's voice echoed down the corridor, his figure emerging from the shadows, Quidditch robes slung over his shoulder. The shift in Travers and Mulciber's posture was almost comical—they backed off a step, momentarily uncertain.

"Potter," Travers sneered, though his bravado faltered. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, but I think it does," James said lightly, his wand slipping out of his pocket. His stance was relaxed, casual even, but his eyes were sharp and dangerous. "See, I happen to know this particular witch here, and I'd take it very personally if something happened to her."

Mulciber sneered, but he couldn't hide the unease in his eyes. "Whatever, Potter. You can't always be around to save her."

"Maybe," James said, taking a step forward, "but I can certainly be here now."

The two Slytherins exchanged a look, muttering something under their breath before deciding to retreat down the hall.

James waited until they'd disappeared around the corner before turning to Hermione, his expression shifting from fierce to concerned. "You alright?"

She let out a shaky breath, nodding as she bent down to collect her wand. "Thanks. I didn't exactly plan on the Slytherin welcoming committee."

He grinned, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. "Just lucky I was around, then."

Later, back in the common room, James recounted the incident to the Marauders. Sirius's eyes narrowed the moment he heard the names Travers and Mulciber.

"Those slimy gits cornered you?" Sirius's voice was dangerously low. "And you didn't let me know earlier?"

Hermione sighed. "I handled it. Well, technically, James did. It's over now."

But Sirius was having none of it. "Over? No, Kitten, it's not over. They need to be taught a lesson."

"Not everything needs a retaliation, Sirius," Hermione said pointedly. "Remember what you promised me three days ago? No pranks for a week—and that includes hexing people."

Sirius huffed. "That promise was about not hexing random people. These aren't random people. They're a couple of arseholes who think they own the school."

Hermione folded her arms, giving him a look that meant business. "You lose the bet if you go after them. I'm serious."

"No, I'm Sirius."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Sirius glared at her, then at James. "You're not really siding with her, are you, Jamesie?"

James held up his hands, though a smirk tugged at his lips. "Bet's a bet, mate. If you hex them, she is not gonna call you by your first name anymore."

Sirius groaned, looking positively tortured by the suggestion. "Oh, come on, that's not fair! You know I'm not putting up with that." He glanced between Hermione and James, clearly weighing the options with an agonised expression.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a silent challenge. "Then I suggest you take a deep breath and let it go. I'll handle it my way."

Sirius let out a huff, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine, but if I so much as hear one snide comment from them in the hallways, I'll… I'll send them a nice bouquet of Dungbombs after the week's up."

James laughed, clapping Sirius on the back. "See, that's the spirit, mate. Show a little restraint for once."

Sirius glared at him, though the corners of his mouth quirked up. "You're both insufferable, you know that? I can't believe I'm letting a bet stop me from teaching those gits a lesson."

"Oh, don't act so hard done by," Hermione teased. "Besides, I'll give you something else to focus on for the week. You can come to the Library and be my research assistant."

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, as though she'd just suggested the most outrageous thing imaginable. "The Library? Kitten, I'd rather drown myself in the Black Lake. At least it'd be poetic, the heir of the noble house of Black sinking into oblivion in the Black Lake, rather than perishing amidst dusty tomes."

Hermione snorted, crossing her arms. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. Besides, a little knowledge won't kill you."

"Oh, but it might!" Sirius threw himself backward onto the couch, sprawling as if he'd been struck down by her very words. "Jamesie, tell her! Tell her she's sending me to my doom!"

James laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know, Sirius. She might have a point. A couple of days in the library could broaden your horizons a bit."

Sirius rolled his eyes, sitting back up with a resigned sigh. "Alright, Kitten, but only because I'm a man of honour who keeps his promises. But don't expect me to actually enjoy it."

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "Oh, I'll take what I can get. Just think of all the things you'll learn."

Sirius groaned, muttering under his breath, "Merlin, give me strength."

Hermione watched Sirius with barely concealed amusement as he sceptically leafed through the stack of books she'd set aside. "You know, Kitten, I came here under duress, not exactly expecting to be entertained."

"Trust me, Sirius," Hermione replied with a knowing smile. "I picked these out with your tastes in mind. Tales of famous magical escapades, daring feats, and one or two near-death encounters with magical beasts. Right up your alley, no?"

Sirius gave her a dubious look before opening the first book, The Most Dangerous Magical Creatures and the Wizards Who Dared Them. His eyes scanned the page, his brows lifting as he read about an eighteenth-century wizard who famously tamed a Chimera. A grin slowly spread across his face as he muttered, "Not bad, Kitten. Not bad."

Hermione smirked, crossing her arms. "I thought you'd enjoy a bit of danger mixed in with your reading material."

He nodded, engrossed now, turning pages faster as he read about duels with Manticores, escapes from enraged Dragons, and taming of wild Erumpents. "You might be onto something here," he admitted, shooting her a grin. "Although, I still think you owe me for dragging me in here in the first place."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're enjoying yourself."

Sirius chuckled, leaning back with the book in his lap. "Maybe a bit. But next time, I get to pick the location. The only dust I want to see is from my own daring escape."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

The week of the no-prank challenge had come and gone, and, for what it was worth, Sirius hadn't resumed pranking Hermione even after it was over. Practically the moment the bet expired, everyone else was fair game—his targets seemed to double as he made up for lost time and revenge opportunities—but he left her conspicuously alone.

Instead, Sirius had developed a different habit—invading her personal space whenever he could. He would sit just a little too close, casually sling an arm over the back of her chair, or lean over her shoulder as she read, pretending to be interested in whatever she was studying. It was annoying at first, but Hermione found herself getting used to it, the invasions of space becoming part of the strange camaraderie she'd developed with the Marauders.

But then one afternoon, while she was working on an essay in the common room, Sirius took it a step further. Without warning, he flopped down on the couch beside her, then stretched out, resting his head right in her lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione froze, the end of her quill hovering above her parchment as she stared down at him, utterly bewildered. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, eyes wide.

"Getting comfortable," Sirius said cheekily, flashing her a mischievous grin from her lap.

Her only response was to shove him off with a force that sent him tumbling onto the floor. "Absolutely not," she said, though her stern tone was undercut by the laughter bubbling in her eyes.

Sirius just lay there for a moment, looking up at her with exaggerated betrayal. "Harsh, Kitten," he said, rubbing his arm with a mock-wounded expression. "I thought we were friends."

"Friends don't use friends as pillows without permission," she shot back, trying to ignore the warmth in her chest at the easy way he treated her.

"Noted," Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. But he didn't seem truly put out—in fact, if anything, he looked amused. And, true to his word, he didn't try the stunt again, though he continued to hover nearby, his presence becoming a familiar and oddly comforting constant.

Hermione found herself reluctantly grateful for his restraint, even as she wondered if she'd ever understand the enigma that was Sirius Black.

"What's up with you and Black?" Lily asked one afternoon, her tone curious as they sat in the Library together, poring over their notes for the upcoming Potions class the next day.

Hermione looked up from her textbook, surprised. "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Lily hesitated, clearly choosing her words carefully. "Well... a lot of girls seem to think... you know... that you're dating."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, and she nearly dropped her quill. "What?!" she spluttered, her voice louder than she intended. Madam Pince shot them a sharp look, and Hermione quickly lowered her voice, leaning closer to Lily. "Why would anyone think that?"

Lily shrugged, giving her a knowing look. "Because he's always hovering around you, that's why," she said matter-of-factly. "And he's stopped pranking you, which, believe me, is a pretty big deal when it comes to Sirius Black. He usually doesn't go easy on anyone."

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Oh, that's ridiculous," she said firmly. "Sirius is... well, he's just being Sirius. It doesn't mean anything. Besides, he's like that with everyone."

"Not quite," Lily said, raising an eyebrow. "I've never seen him be so... focused on anyone before. And everyone's noticed the way he's always in your space. It's a bit... possessive, don't you think?"

Hermione groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Well, he can focus all he likes," she muttered. "But we are definitely not dating. We're just friends. And barely that most days, to be honest."

Lily didn't look convinced, but she nodded slowly. "If you say so," she said, her expression thoughtful. "But you should probably know that some of the other girls are getting... well, a bit jealous."

"Of what?" Hermione asked incredulously. "There's nothing to be jealous of!"

Lily smiled sympathetically. "You might not see it, but they do. Sirius is... well, Sirius. And he's popular, even if he's infuriating half the time."

Hermione sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "Great," she muttered. "Just what I needed—rumours and drama."

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Lily said with a laugh, giving her a playful nudge. "But seriously, Hermione, if it's bothering you, maybe you should talk to him about it."

Hermione hesitated, glancing down at her notes. "Maybe," she said quietly, not entirely sure what she'd even say to Sirius if she did bring it up.

For now, she decided to ignore the rumours. It wasn't as if she could control what people thought, and she was determined not to let the gossip affect her—no matter how unsettling it was to realise that people were watching her and Sirius more closely than she'd realised.

As they made their way out of the Library, Hermione caught sight of James waiting in the corridor, a wide grin plastered on his face and a hopeful gleam in his eyes. He had that determined look that always preceded one of his impossible schemes to get Lily to say yes to a date. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for him, but also a growing sense of exasperation.

Lily, however, just rolled her eyes and walked straight past him, pretending not to notice his eager grin. "Potter, if you're going to make some grand declaration again, save it," she said, not even breaking stride. "I have places to be."

James's face fell for a split second, but he quickly recovered, running after her with another burst of charm. Hermione watched them go, shaking her head slightly.

Before she could turn away, a familiar arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her gently to the side. "And you're coming with me, Kitten," Sirius said, grinning as he led her away from the Library entrance, steering her down a quieter corridor.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, startled by the sudden detour. "I still have work to do—"

"Not today, you don't," Sirius interrupted, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You've spent enough time in the Library for a lifetime. I'm taking you somewhere fun."

"Fun?" Hermione echoed suspiciously. "Your idea of fun and mine don't usually align."

"Oh, don't worry," Sirius said, his grin widening. "No pranks. Just... something different."

Hermione hesitated, but the curiosity got the better of her. "Alright," she relented, giving him a wary look. "But if this ends with me covered in slime or singing ridiculous songs, I'm hexing you."

"Duly noted," Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Trust me, you'll like it."

She didn't know why she agreed—maybe it was the genuine eagerness in his eyes, or the way he seemed to lighten up whenever they were together. Whatever it was, she found herself following him down the winding corridors, letting Sirius guide her deeper into the castle with a mischievous glint in his eye, away from the usual hustle and bustle of students.

She had no idea where they were going until they came to a large painting of a fruit bowl. Before she could ask, Sirius reached out and tickled the pear. It giggled, then swung open to reveal the entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens.

"The kitchens?" Hermione asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Of course," Sirius said, grinning as he stepped inside. "What better place for a little break?"

Hermione followed him into the bustling kitchen, where house-elves rushed about, preparing the evening meal. At the sight of Sirius, they immediately began offering trays of sweets and treats, which he accepted with a theatrical flourish.

"You know," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow as Sirius popped a jelly slug into his mouth, "all this sugar can't be good for your dental health."

Sirius looked at her as if she'd spoken a foreign language. "What health now?"

"Your teeth," Hermione said, trying to cover her mistake. "I mean... don't they teach you about that in Muggle Studies?"

Sirius gave her a puzzled look, then smirked. "I am taking Muggle Studies," he said. "But you're not, Miss Pureblood."

Hermione nearly stumbled over her own response. "You realise you can learn about Muggles by actually, you know, going out into the Muggle world, not just from a class," she said, quickly diverting the conversation.

"Who would have thought?" Sirius said, rolling his eyes sarcastically as he reached for another pastry.

Hermione shook her head, laughing despite herself. "You're impossible."

Sirius grabbed a colourful piece of candy from a nearby tray and held it out to her. "Try this," he said, holding it right up to her lips with a challenging look.

Hermione hesitated, then took the candy, feeling a strange mix of exasperation and amusement. After a moment of silence, she couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer. "Sirius... what are we doing?"

Sirius blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean?" he asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Lily said... well, everyone thinks we're... dating. And I just... I don't get what this is."

He let out a bark of laughter, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Who cares what they think?" he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Let them think what they want."

"Yeah, I gathered that about you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. But she had come to realise something else about Sirius—he had a habit of latching onto things, getting fascinated by them until he eventually lost interest. And she couldn't help wondering if she was just another one of his temporary obsessions.

"You shouldn't care either," Sirius said, leaning closer, his voice suddenly serious.

"Easy for you to say," Hermione shot back, "you're not the one who'll get mobbed by your gaggle of admirers."

Sirius's expression turned incredulous. "I don't have a gaggle of admirers."

"Sure," Hermione said dryly, giving him a pointed look. "Keep telling yourself that."

Sirius chuckled, his easy confidence returning as he stole another sweet from the tray. "Alright, fine. Maybe a few," he admitted, his grin widening. "But if they're that worried about us, then that's their problem, not ours."

Hermione sighed, feeling both exasperated and strangely comforted by his nonchalance. "You really don't care what people think, do you?"

"Not if it means I get to eat sweets with you in the kitchens," he said with a wink, offering her another candy.

She couldn't help but laugh, taking the candy from his hand.

Hermione woke up feeling groggy, a dull ache settling behind her eyes and her nose already stuffy. She'd hoped it was just the chill of the castle getting to her, but by the time she was halfway through getting dressed, she had to admit it—she had a cold. Great, she thought with a sigh. Of all days, it has to be my birthday. But it was Thursday, and she had no intention of missing classes for something as minor as a cold. She wasn't feeling that bad—just a bit sniffly—and was sure she could hide it.

She thought she was managing well, until halfway through breakfast, Remus subtly shifted a few inches away from her after she sniffled for the third time. Hermione opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the sudden arrival of the morning owls distracted her. One dropped a small package in front of her, and her eyes lit up as she recognised the familiar handwriting on the card. Molly had sent her homemade fudge, wrapped in a cheery, colourful ribbon.

It was a warm gesture that made her feel momentarily better—until Sirius noticed the card and the fudge. "Oi, what's this?" he said, leaning over to read the card. Before Hermione could stop him, he let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. "It's your birthday?" he exclaimed, turning to the entire Gryffindor table with wide eyes. "Did you hear that, everyone? It's Kitten's birthday! This means you are older than me!" He clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to look wounded. "The betrayal!"

Hermione groaned, her head beginning to throb. She tried to smile, but Sirius's loud declaration only made her temples pound.

James, sitting across from her, noticed her wince and his expression softened. "Hey," he said, lowering his voice. "You alright?"

"Just a headache," Hermione said quietly, rubbing at her temple and trying not to look too miserable. "I'll be fine. It's just... a bit much for this early in the morning."

Sirius, catching the look on her face, stopped his theatrics mid-speech. His grin faded a little, replaced with a hint of concern. "You don't look so good," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"It's nothing," Hermione said stubbornly, though the effort of speaking made her throat ache. "Just a cold."

Remus's eyes widened a little, and he gave her a sympathetic look. "You should have said something," he said, though he scooted even a bit more further away. Hermione's mind raced as she tried to calculate how many days away the full moon was—twelve, if she remembered correctly. It was far enough off that she couldn't imagine the timing was the issue, but maybe he just didn't want to risk catching a cold right before it. Missing more classes was probably the last thing he wanted.

"It's just a cold," Hermione repeated, forcing a smile and trying to brush off his concern. "I'll be fine."

But she caught the worried exchange of glances between James and Sirius, and before she knew it, James was reaching over to grab her bag. "We're taking you to the Hospital Wing," he said firmly, ignoring her protests.

"No, you're not!" Hermione said, tugging her bag back and feeling a spike of irritation. "I'm not missing classes just because I'm a bit sniffly."

"Too bad," Sirius cut in, rising from his seat with an unexpected determination that took her by surprise. "You're not going to sit through a full day of lessons feeling miserable just because you're stubborn. Come on."

For a moment, Hermione hesitated, wondering if their insistence had more to do with protecting Remus than with her own well-being. It wasn't a question she could exactly ask, though, so she just let out a sigh and gave in. "Fine," she muttered, getting to her feet. "But if Madam Pomfrey says it's just a cold, I'm going straight to Transfiguration."

Sirius snorted, clearly amused by her persistence. "We'll see about that, Kitten."

As they started to lead her out of the Great Hall, she glanced back at Remus, who still sat at the table, his face a mixture of relief and guilt. Whatever his reasons for keeping his distance, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. There was so much she still didn't understand about the dynamics between these boys, and every time she thought she was beginning to figure it out, another layer was added to the puzzle.

Madam Pomfrey did keep her in the Hospital Wing for the day, even though the Pepper-Up Potion had cleared up most of her symptoms within minutes. Apparently, it was standard protocol to keep students for at least four hours after administering the medication to ensure they were no longer contagious. Hermione was put out by the decision; she hated missing classes. But at least she had her books with her, and she spent the day sitting up in bed, flipping through pages and reading the material she assumed would be covered in classes that day.

By mid-afternoon, when she was beginning to feel restless and frustrated, Remus walked in. He was holding a stack of neatly organised notes and a Chocolate frog, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Happy Birthday," he said, offering her the chocolate, "and I'm sorry about this morning. I just... I get sick enough as it is, I wanted to avoid catching anything if I could help it. Forgive me?"

Hermione's irritation melted at his words, and she couldn't help but smile. "You brought notes and chocolate," she said, taking the offerings gratefully. "How could I not forgive you?"

Relief flickered across Remus's face as he sat down in the chair beside her bed. "I really am sorry," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you had the plague or something. On today of all days."

Hermione's smile widened, and she shook her head. "I didn't take it that way," she assured him. "I get it, Remus. You have to be careful, and I'm not upset. Just... a bit bored, I suppose."

Remus's shoulders relaxed, and he returned her smile. "Well, I hope these help," he said, gesturing to the notes he'd brought. "I tried to make sure I didn't miss anything important."

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely, flipping through the pages. His handwriting was neat, and she was struck by how detailed and organised his notes were. "These are brilliant."

He looked a little embarrassed by the compliment, shrugging it off. "It's the least I could do. I know how much you hate missing out."

"You're right about that," she said with a chuckle, breaking the chocolate frog in half and offering it to him.

Remus hesitated for a second, mentally reminding himself probably that it was safe now, then took the piece with a grateful nod. "Well, if you ever need to catch up on anything, I'm happy to help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hermione said, feeling a warm sense of gratitude.

"Ah, Miss Prewett. You are free to go," came in the matron from wherever she had been for the past couple of hours, glancing up at the clock.

Remus's expression brightened. "Looks like you've been officially released," he said with a teasing smile.

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Thank Merlin," she said, starting to gather her books and notes. "I was beginning to feel like I'd be stuck here forever."

Madam Pomfrey gave her a mildly disapproving look. "Don't be so dramatic, dear. I just had to be sure you weren't contagious anymore."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, giving the matron a grateful nod as she slid off the bed. She looked back at Remus, who was still standing by the chair, waiting for her. "I guess I'll see you at dinner?"

"Definitely," Remus said, and he reached out to take some of her heavier books. "But before that come on, I'll walk you back to the common room. Consider it a birthday escort."

Hermione's smile widened, feeling lighter than she had all day. "I'd like that," she said, and together, they left the Hospital Wing, the remnants of her headache and her anxiety fading with each step.

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat at the sudden burst of noise and colour. The common room was decked out in Gryffindor colours—red and gold streamers, balloons hovering near the ceiling, and a banner with a big, glittering "Happy Birthday, Hermione!" hanging over the fireplace. A chorus of voices shouted "Happy Birthday!" all at once, and she instinctively clutched at her chest, startled.

Before she could fully process the surprise, Sirius was there, rushing up to her with a wide grin, grabbing her around the waist, and lifting her off the ground in one swift motion. He spun her around, the room blurring in a swirl of colours.

"Put me down!" she squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.

Sirius laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Make me!" he teased, spinning her around one more time before finally setting her down, a little breathless but smiling despite herself.

She smacked his arm playfully. "You're impossible!"

"And you love it," Sirius shot back with a wink, clearly unbothered by her swat.

James appeared next, holding a slice of cake topped with a single candle. "Make a wish, Hermione," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with warmth as she looked around at the familiar faces, all gathered just for her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling a swell of gratitude, and made a wish. When she blew out the candle, the room erupted in cheers.

"Happy Birthday, Kitten!" Sirius called, throwing an arm around her shoulders with a grin.

"Thanks, everyone," Hermione said, her voice a little choked. "I... I wasn't expecting this at all."

Lily, who had been lingering nearby, stepped forward with a smile. "We thought you could use a proper Gryffindor birthday," she said, handing Hermione a glass of pumpkin juice. "And you deserve it."

Hermione's eyes misted, and she quickly blinked back the tears. She had spent most of the day feeling miserable and alone, but now... now she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Surrounded by friends who, despite the chaos they brought into her life, were slowly becoming her family.

Yet, below the laughter and warmth, a small, nagging thought gnawed at the edges of her mind. None of her friends in the future—Harry, Ron—had ever done anything like this for her birthday. Sure, they remembered, and they'd maybe given her a card or something, but nothing like this. Nothing so full of joy and effort. She wondered, just for a moment, if it had been because they were always so focused on the next danger, the next threat on Harry's life. Or maybe, she thought with a pang, she'd never really let them in enough to see that she needed this kind of care.

She shook off the thought quickly, not wanting to dwell on the ache it brought. Now wasn't the time to compare. Now was the time to enjoy the party—the laughter, the cake, the silly decorations, and the warmth of people who, for some reason she couldn't quite understand, had decided she was one of them.

"Alright, Kitten!" Sirius said loudly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "No moping allowed! It's a party, and you're the guest of honour."

"Right," Hermione said, a genuine smile returning to her face as she raised her glass. "Let's enjoy it, then."

And she did—laughing, eating, and being enveloped in a kind of celebration that she hadn't realised she'd been missing.