November crept by, each day folding seamlessly into the next as the leaves turned from golden hues to brittle brown, and the chill in the air grew sharper. Hermione had found herself seeking the sanctuary of the Library more and more, opting to spend quiet afternoons poring over books with Remus instead of getting dragged into the latest Marauder escapade. Not that she didn't enjoy the occasional spectacle—their pranks, while ridiculous, were undeniably entertaining. But being around James was getting... more and more complicated.

She couldn't quite put her finger on when it had become so bad, but it seemed that the more she tried to keep her distance, the harder it became. James, with his effortless confidence and disarming charm, had a way of pulling her in without even trying. And now that Lily had started noticing him too, there was a constant tension hanging over them that made her chest feel tight whenever they were all in the same room.

For a while, she thought she was making progress in her quest to ensure that Harry would be born. James had toned down his theatrics, and Lily was definitely warming up to him, shooting him glances when she thought no one was looking. But just as Hermione began to hope that her nudging was finally veering the timeline to where it was supposed to go, the inevitable happened.

Snape.

Of course, it had to be Snape.

Apparently, James and Sirius had crossed paths with the Slytherin one chilly November afternoon. It was too tempting a target to resist—Snape alone, unprotected, and both Gryffindor boys still brimming with post-match confidence. A few well-aimed hexes later, and Snape was on the ground, covered in a flurry of jinxes, his wand clattering out of reach. They hadn't meant it to get out of hand—just a few harmless spells to put him in his place. But then Lily had walked into the corridor, and all hell had broken loose.

Hermione hadn't been there, but she heard about it from every corner of the castle within the hour. It was bad—worse than any of the boys had anticipated. Lily had blown up on them, her fury ringing down the halls as she defended Snape with a passionate rage Hermione didn't even think the redhead was capable of.

"It's not funny, Potter! It's not a game!" Lily had screamed, voice trembling with barely-contained anger. She had called them bullies, cruel, and had refused to listen to a single one of their excuses. James had tried to explain, to backtrack, but she hadn't wanted to hear it. She had marched away, her expression a mask of disgust, leaving James stunned and speechless in the corridor.

Now, a heavy, oppressive silence hung over the common room. Sirius was nursing a black eye—apparently, Snape had managed to get one good shot in before James disarmed him. James himself was slouched on the couch, staring moodily into the fireplace with a haunted look in his eyes. Hermione felt a pang in her chest as she watched him, his usual bravado shattered into a million pieces.

She wanted to say something—to make it better—but what could she say? She had been trying so hard to bridge the gap between James and Lily, and now it felt like all her efforts had been for nothing.

Remus, always the observant one, seemed to sense her turmoil and gave her a small, sympathetic smile from across the table in the Library. He hadn't said much about the incident, but she could tell he disapproved of what had happened. It was another reminder of how easy it was for James and Sirius to fall into old habits, even when they were trying to change.

"Is he going to be alright?" she had asked Remus quietly during one of their study sessions. He had just shrugged, looking resigned.

"James never takes rejection well," Remus had replied. "But he'll bounce back. He always does."

Hermione nodded, but she wasn't so sure. There was something different in the way James had looked after that confrontation with Lily—like he had lost something he didn't know how to get back.

The incident with Snape had sent James spiralling back into his old, impulsive ways with Lily. The grand gestures, the overconfident declarations, the obnoxious shows of bravado—it was all back, and in full force. Every time Hermione saw him strutting through the corridors, flashing Lily that same infuriating grin, she felt a deep frustration bubble inside her. She had been so sure they were making progress, that James was starting to show the side of himself that she knew Lily would like. But now, it was as if all that had been undone in the blink of an eye.

One quiet afternoon in the Library, Remus finally cornered her while she was flipping through her notes, the both of them settled in their favourite corner away from prying eyes. He studied her for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice gentle and curious. "Why is this so important to you?"

Hermione's fingers stilled on the parchment. She didn't meet his eyes, feeling exposed under his gaze. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Any other girl with a crush would be trying to get the guy," Remus said, his brow furrowed. "Not... shoving him toward another girl."

She let out a long sigh, feeling her frustration simmer. It was hard to put her feelings into words without saying too much. "They're just... they're meant to be," she said, echoing the same words she'd told him before. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"You've said that, yes," Remus replied, leaning forward with a searching look. "But why do you think so? What makes you so sure?"

"Just... things I've heard," Hermione said evasively, her fingers gripping the edge of her parchment a little too tightly. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it."

Remus's eyes softened with understanding, but he pressed on, his tone gentle. "You did see it was working though, didn't you? When James toned it down on your advice? He was actually getting somewhere."

Hermione's frustration spilled over, and she looked up at Remus, her eyes blazing with an emotion she couldn't quite name. "Yes!" she snapped, then lowered her voice, catching herself. "Yes. I saw it working. He was doing so well. He was... being himself. And then that stupid incident with Snape happened, and it's like he forgot everything."

Remus watched her quietly, his expression thoughtful. "You care about him," he said slowly, as if just realising the depth of her feelings.

"Of course I care about him," Hermione said, her voice hoarse. "He's my friend. And I just... I want him to be happy. And I know Lily could make him happy if he'd just—" She stopped, feeling her chest tighten. "But I'm done, alright? I'm done meddling."

Remus looked at her thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I still don't understand why you were meddling in the first place. If you fancy him, why push him away?"

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her temples. "Remus, it's not about what I want. It's about what's supposed to happen. James and Lily—it's just... they fit together. And besides, what would it even matter if I did fancy him? He's clearly still head over heels for Lily. Look at him—one rejection from her and he's back to his old ways."

"You seem pretty invested in making sure they end up together," Remus said, his voice gentle but probing again. It was clear he really wanted to get to the bottom of this. "Even at the expense of your own feelings."

"It's because—" Hermione stopped, searching for the right words. She couldn't tell Remus the whole truth, not without risking everything. "It's because I want what's best for him," she said finally, her voice quiet. "And I don't think I'm it. Lily's... strong, and kind, and she knows how to keep James in check. He needs someone like her to balance him out."

Remus's expression softened, but he didn't look entirely convinced. "You're strong too, Hermione. And kind. Don't sell yourself short."

"It's different," she insisted. "Lily challenges him in a way I can't. I just—" she shook her head. "I just want to see him happy. That's all. Even if it's not with me."

"Does he make you happy?" Remus asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione froze, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she didn't know how to respond. She thought of James's grin, his infectious laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he was excited, and her stomach twisted. Yes, she thought. He does. But saying it out loud felt like admitting something she had no right to feel.

"I don't know," she said instead, avoiding Remus's gaze. "But that doesn't matter, does it?"

Remus studied her for a long moment, and then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe it matters more than you think," he said softly. "But... if this is really what you want, I won't press you about it. Just... don't lose yourself in trying to make everyone else happy."

Hermione managed a weak smile, though she wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or hers. "I'll be fine," she said. "I'm just... done meddling, like I said. Whatever happens next is up to them."

"Alright," Remus agreed, though he still looked unconvinced. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "But if you ever need to talk... I'm here, you know?"

"I know," she said, genuinely grateful for his quiet support. "Thanks, Remus."

November 29th, the full moon loomed over Hogwarts once again, and the Gryffindor common room was tense with both anticipation and anxiety. The Marauders had gathered as they always did when Remus was away, working out the details of their Animagus project without his knowledge. The weight of what they were doing—of the risk and the secrets they were keeping—hung over them like a thick fog.

As soon as sundown came, Peter had returned triumphantly from the greenhouses, a handful of carefully harvested mandrake leaves wrapped in a cloth in his bag. "Got them," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

Each of them took a leaf, staring at it like it was a precious and fragile treasure. They placed them in their mouths, and immediately, Hermione felt the strange texture of the mandrake leaf against her tongue. It was odd, slightly bitter, and settled uncomfortably in her mouth. She watched the boys, who looked equally unsettled, fidgeting as they tried to adjust to the sensation.

"This feels so weird," Sirius grumbled, his words muffled around the leaf as he shifted it uncomfortably from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Just a sec," Hermione said, raising her wand. With a quick, precise motion, she cast a modified Sticking Charm, fixing the leaf flatly to the inside of her cheek. "There. It'll stay out of the way now."

James raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did you just cheat?"

"It's not cheating," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's called being practical. There's no indication that sticking it to your cheek would interfere with the process. I've checked."

Peter, who had been shifting the leaf nervously, glanced at Sirius and James for approval, but they shook their heads resolutely. "We're doing this the proper way," James said stubbornly, his jaw set. "No shortcuts."

"Suit yourself," Hermione said with a shrug. "Your loss when you have to start over because you swallowed it while hanging upside down on your broom."

Sirius gave her a challenging grin. "I never back down from a challenge, Kitten. This leaf isn't going anywhere."

Rolling her eyes again, Hermione settled down into one of the chairs, feeling the weight of the leaf inside her mouth. It was a small, constant reminder of the absurdity and danger of what they were doing. "I did some more reading," she said, pulling out her notes and spreading them across the table. "I think we need to harvest the dew freshly on the next full moon."

"What makes you think that?" James asked, leaning forward to inspect her notes. "The instructions only say that it has to be from somewhere untouched by sunlight or human feet for seven days, nothing about needing to be fresh."

"Well, think about it," Hermione countered, tapping the parchment for emphasis. "I don't think they meant it literally, at least not in the sense that once it's been harvested, it's fine. The intention is clear—it has to be untainted by human presence and sunlight for the seven days prior to adding it to the potion. If we store it somewhere and sunlight gets to it, or if it's handled improperly, I think it loses whatever magical properties it's supposed to have."

Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "I think you're over-complicating things, Kitten," he said with a smirk, settling back into his chair. "A bit of dew is dew, whether it's touched or not. It'll be fine."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press the issue. "Your funeral. By the way, you realise you can't go home for Christmas now, don't you? If you leave, you'll have to start all over again."

"What do you mean?" James asked, frowning in confusion.

"After we get the potion together," Hermione explained, "we have to store the crystal phial in a dark, cool, quiet place and leave it there until the next electrical storm. If you're home during Christmas break, you'll have to hide the phial wherever you are. But then you won't be able to get back to it until Easter, at the earliest. I'm not even sure what happens if you leave it past the first electrical storm. The instructions aren't clear on that."

Sirius's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "So we're stuck here for Christmas," he said, his voice losing some of its usual levity.

James, however, only seemed more determined. "Then we stay," he said firmly. "We've come this far, and I'm not going to let something like Christmas break stop us."

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But... what if the storm doesn't come for months?" he asked quietly, his voice small.

Hermione paused, considering his question. It was a valid concern. "Then we wait," she said finally. "If the first storm doesn't come when we need it, we wait until it does. We'll be patient."

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is mad, you know that? Completely and utterly mad."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, a smile tugging at her lips. "But you wouldn't want it any other way, would you?"

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I suppose I wouldn't."

James nodded, his expression resolute. "Alright then," he said, his voice filled with determination. "We're in this together. No backing out now."

And as they settled into their plans, the weight of their decision hung heavy in the air—a strange blend of excitement, fear, and anticipation. The full moon had come and gone, and there was no turning back now.

Of course, Peter swallowed his mandrake leaf at breakfast the very next day, choking and spluttering while James and Sirius laughed so hard they almost followed suit. Hermione just shook her head in exasperation, muttering a soft "I told you so." But it didn't end there. By mid-afternoon, James and Sirius had both lost their own leaves during Quidditch practice—something Hermione had practically predicted from the start. Sirius had even laughed about it when it happened, clearly not taking the whole Animagus process as seriously as Hermione had hoped.

So it was just her left. The sole contender for this month's attempt. She couldn't help but feel a mix of smug satisfaction and annoyance at how predictable the boys had been. But at least they hadn't written home yet about not coming back for Christmas, which spared them from having to deal with disappointed or suspicious parents.

James, Sirius, and Peter, perhaps in an effort to distract themselves from their collective failure, decided to drown their sorrows by planning an elaborate prank involving a series of enchanted fireworks that would fill the Great Hall with flashing lights, booming sounds, and a magically animated, gigantic banner of Gryffindor colours cheering on the house Quidditch team. But, as fate would have it, they were caught red-handed by Filch just as they were sneaking into the Hall after hours to set up the spellwork.

It was a miserable sight. Filch dragged them by the collars to his office, ranting about "nasty little troublemakers" and "filthy pranks," and the boys barely suppressed their grins, accepting their scolding with only mock seriousness.

But it was in Filch's office, while they stood there supposedly being disciplined, that a surprising revelation came to light. Hermione, who had tagged along as backup in case they needed a quick distraction spell, noticed something strange. In the corner of the cluttered, grimy office, the air seemed to shimmer with a faint, flickering glow.

Curious, she crept closer, and her eyes widened as she spotted them—Death's Head Hawk Moths, fluttering lazily around a cracked window that hadn't been sealed properly. She froze, barely able to believe what she was seeing. The rare, elusive moths they'd been searching for were right here, in the most unlikely of places—Filch's dusty, cluttered office.

When Filch turned to fetch some old chains to threaten them with as detention, Hermione mouthed the discovery to James and Sirius, pointing subtly to the corner. They both gaped, the prank completely forgotten. It was such an unexpected boon that Hermione couldn't even be angry about the boys getting caught. Their search had been at a dead end—every lead she'd chased had gone nowhere. She had found that there were a total of three magical reserves worldwide that had documented sightings of Death's Head Hawk Moths, and none were places they could easily access, especially not as students.

But here, in Filch's office, lay the answer to all their problems: an endless supply of chrysalises.

The moment Filch's back was turned, Sirius's eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous spark, and he raised his wand ever so slightly, but Hermione shook her head fiercely, mouthing not now. They needed a plan, not a rash decision that would get them in even more trouble. He scowled but lowered his wand, and they waited in tense silence until Filch had dismissed them with a grumble and a night of toilet scrubbing as detention to be scheduled in the future.

As soon as they were out of Filch's office, James practically tackled Hermione in a silent, overjoyed hug, his arms wrapping around her in an impulsive squeeze. "This changes everything," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. Hermione felt her cheeks flush and prayed that the dimly lit corridor would hide the sudden heat creeping up her neck.

Sirius, meanwhile, was already plotting, his eyes darting around the hallway with barely contained excitement. "We'll have to get back in there," he said, his voice low but electric with energy. "Late at night, when Filch is off patrolling. We just need a few of those chrysalises. I bet I could get them all in one trip."

Hermione's brows shot up, and she crossed her arms. "And what's your plan if Mrs Potts is there, hmm?" she challenged, her voice stern. "We can't just barge in without a proper strategy. If she catches even a hint of movement, she'll alert Filch faster than you can say expulsion."

Sirius waved off her concern, still riding the high of their discovery. "Oh, come on, Kitten, don't be such a worrywart. We've gotten out of tighter spots before."

"No," James interjected, his grin unwavering but his tone serious. "She's right. We can't afford to mess this up. We'll do it properly—plan it out, use the Cloak, and make sure we don't get caught this time."

Hermione's stern look softened as she saw the determination in James's eyes. "Thank you," she said, grateful that at least one of them was taking this seriously. "We'll need to time it just right. Filch's patrols are erratic, but he tends to stick to a pattern around midnight—circling the lower floors first, then heading up to the Astronomy Tower. If we can get in while he's there..."

Sirius cut her off with a grin, leaning casually against the wall. "Easy. I'll take care of the timing. I know Filch's routine better than he does."

"And we'll use the Cloak," James said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Peter can cause a distraction near the Restricted Section first while we double back to Filch's office. I'll be lookout, Sirius can grab the chrysalises, and Hermione, you'll make sure we don't miss any hidden traps or alarms."

Hermione nodded, her mind already racing with the logistics. "Alright, but we need to be efficient. The less time we spend in there, the better. I don't want any of us ending up in detention—or worse—over this."

James gave her a confident wink. "Don't worry, we'll be in and out before Filch even knows we were there. I've got a good feeling about this."

Sirius clapped James on the shoulder. "And if we pull this off, it's going to be legendary. The Marauders' greatest heist yet."

"Only if you don't get caught," Hermione warned, unable to suppress a small smile despite herself. There was something infectious about their excitement, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation herself.

"Getting caught is not an option," Sirius declared dramatically, puffing out his chest. "We're the Marauders, after all. We don't fail."

"Then let's make sure of that," Hermione said firmly. "Meet back here at midnight. I'll bring my wand, and you two... bring the Cloak and your wits. Peter, are you sure you'll be fine by the Library?"

Peter's face lit up with determination, though Hermione noticed the slight nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I'll be fine," he said, his voice a little higher than usual. "I know exactly what to do. Don't worry about me, Hermione. I'll keep Filch busy long enough for you guys to get in and out."

"Just remember," James said, his tone serious, "timing is everything. If we get in there and he doubles back too soon, the whole thing's shot."

Peter nodded vigorously. "I've got it. I know Filch's weak spots too, you know. Trust me—I won't let you down."

Sirius grinned, slinging an arm around Peter's shoulders. "That's the spirit, Petey. We're counting on you."

Hermione gave Peter an encouraging smile. "Just keep your head down and don't do anything reckless. We only need a few minutes, but they're crucial."

Peter swallowed, his eyes darting nervously between them. "Right. I won't mess it up."

James clapped his hands together, the sound echoing slightly in the empty corridor. "Alright, then! Midnight, everyone. Let's make history."

As they turned to head back to the common room, Hermione felt a swell of adrenaline and determination. They were closer than ever to getting what they needed for the Animagus transformation, and if they pulled this off, it would be a game-changer.

But as she walked between the two boys, feeling the weight of their trust and anticipation, she couldn't help the flicker of doubt in the back of her mind. This was risky—more dangerous than any prank they'd ever attempted—and it was a leap she hoped they were all truly ready for.