Remus was sitting up in bed when Hermione returned to the Hospital Wing that afternoon, his eyes sharpening the moment he saw her walk in. "Did I dream it, or were you here when we arrived with Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, his tone almost accusatory, though there was a softness in his gaze.
Hermione met his narrowed eyes steadily. "I was here," she said, setting down the bag she'd brought with her. "And, for the record, I also learned all the spells and potions you need."
He looked taken aback, a mix of gratitude and frustration flickering across his face. "Why weren't you sleeping?" he asked, a hint of anger slipping into his voice.
She sat down beside his bed, refusing to be intimidated by his glare. "Would you be able to sleep if your best friend was busy mauling themselves?" she asked quietly, meeting his eyes.
Remus flinched, his expression crumbling. "Please," he said, his voice almost a plea, "don't do this. I can't worry about you too on these nights."
"Shh," she said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to worry about me. I slept all day once I knew you were fine, okay? Consider it as a thank you for the other day. You know, when you took care of me."
He visibly relaxed at her words but then frowned, studying her intently. "Why did you smell like the forest?" he asked suddenly, his brow furrowing in confusion as his memories came back a bit more from the haze that was the morning.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. "I took a walk when I couldn't sleep," she said lightly, hoping he wouldn't dig too deeply.
"Out in the Forbidden Forest on a full moon?" His voice was incredulous, his eyes widening with shock. "Are you mad, witch?"
She rolled her eyes, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. "Why? Are you transforming in the forest?" she shot back.
"Well, no," he admitted, still staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. "But still. And Filch could have caught you."
"I was fine, don't worry," she said, waving off his concern with a smile. "I'm not that reckless."
Remus snorted, clearly unconvinced. "We have really rubbed off on you, haven't we?" he said with a wry smile. "I bet you never got into trouble before meeting us."
"Eh..." Hermione hesitated, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes, as she recalled fighting trolls, smuggling baby dragons out of the castle, sneaking down forbidden corridors to protect the Philosopher's Stone, brewing Polyjuice Potion in the girls' loo, just to name a few.
He raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."
"Nope," she said, crossing her arms with a smug grin. "A girl's gotta keep at least some secrets."
Remus regarded her for a long moment, as if seeing her in a whole new light, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You know," he said quietly, "I think I like this version of you."
She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Good, because you're stuck with me now," she teased, feeling a warmth settle between them. It was moments like this—honest and unguarded—that made all the chaos worth it.
Remus's eyes softened, and he reached out, squeezing her hand briefly. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said sincerely, his voice carrying a weight that made Hermione's heart tighten in her chest.
Remus had barely been out of the Hospital Wing for ten minutes before they were walking back toward the common room, Hermione comfortably tucked under his arm, when she couldn't help but notice how tall he already was, towering over her even though they were both still only fifteen—Remus not even that. And Sirius was even a bit taller, she realised with a small sigh. She felt like a dwarf next to them, even though she knew she was perfectly average for a girl her age.
They were halfway back to the common room when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, causing Remus to halt as well. "What am I supposed to wear to the New Year's party?" she blurted out, the realisation hitting her like a ton of bricks. "I don't have anything even close to festive robes!"
Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her sudden panic. "Don't worry about that. James won't care. Just wear one of your nicer outfits, something comfortable."
Hermione groaned, feeling utterly out of her depth. "You don't get it, Remus. This isn't just hanging out with friends in the common room. It's a proper party at Potter Manor. I'll stick out like a sore thumb if I don't wear something appropriate."
Remus chuckled, patting her shoulder. "It's nice to know you're a girl after all," he teased, his tone light.
She shot him a glare, crossing her arms defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that normally, you don't care about... well, girly stuff," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Like what to wear, or makeup, or hair."
Hermione's eyes widened, and suddenly, she felt extremely self-conscious. She ran a hand through her wild hair, examining the frizzy ends as if seeing them for the first time. "Maybe I should... I don't know, do something with my hair?" she said uncertainly.
Remus laughed softly, shaking his head. "You look fine, Hermione. But if you're really worried, why don't you bring whatever outfits you have over to my dorm? I can help you pick something out."
"Since when are you a fashion expert?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not," Remus admitted, grinning. "But I've been to the Potters' New Year's parties before, and I know what to expect. I can help you figure out what will work."
Hermione hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay... fine. Let me grab my things."
They made their way back to her dorm, where Hermione pulled out the few nicer pieces she had. Most of them were plain, functional clothes, but she did have a couple of skirts and blouses that looked a little more formal. She packed them quickly into a small bag, feeling embarrassed by how little she had compared to what she imagined the other girls might be wearing.
Back in Remus's dorm, they spread out her options across his bed. He studied each piece with surprising care, his brow furrowed in concentration. "What about this one?" he asked, holding up a periwinkle blouse that had a delicate, flowing fabric. The colour was soft and flattering, making her skin seem a touch warmer and bringing out the brown of her eyes. "Maybe with this skirt?" He gestured to a black, knee-length skirt with a subtle shimmer.
Hermione tilted her head, considering his suggestion. "You think it's fancy enough?"
"Definitely," he said with a reassuring smile. "It's understated but elegant. You'll look lovely, and it's comfortable enough for you to feel like yourself."
Hermione's lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm just... not used to thinking about these things. I don't even have any jewellery or anything like that to dress it up."
Remus thought for a moment, then walked over to his own wardrobe, rummaging around until he pulled out a simple silver pendant on a thin chain. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "You can borrow this. It's not fancy, but it's... special to me."
Hermione's eyes widened as she carefully took the crescent moon pendant from him. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, touched by the gesture.
"Yeah," he said with a gentle smile. "It was my mum's. I think she'd like it if you wore it."
Her throat tightened with emotion, and she slipped the necklace around her neck, feeling its cool weight settle against her skin. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Remus shrugged, but his eyes were warm. "You're welcome."
They spent the next half hour debating the merits of each outfit until they settled on the periwinkle blouse and black skirt combination that Remus had originally suggested.
"Will this really be okay with simple black robes?"
Remus nodded confidently. "Absolutely. The periwinkle blouse is the main focus, and the black skirt and robes will balance it out. It's all about the contrast—simple and elegant. You'll stand out just enough."
Hermione still looked a bit uncertain. "I don't want to look out of place at a fancy Potter party. I mean, this is James's family we're talking about."
"You won't," Remus assured her. "James's parents are great. They're not the kind to judge someone based on what they're wearing. They'll be more interested in you as a person than your outfit. Besides," he added with a small smile, "you look great in periwinkle."
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and quickly looked away. "Alright, if you say so. I just hope I don't embarrass myself."
"You won't," Remus said firmly. "And if anyone says otherwise, they'll have to answer to me."
Hermione chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "Alright, alright. Periwinkle blouse, black skirt, black robes it is. I'm trusting you on this."
Remus gave her a reassuring smile. "You won't regret it. Now," he said, raising an eyebrow with mock seriousness, "all we have to do is make sure Sirius doesn't get any ideas about 'helping' with your look between noon and 7 PM on the day."
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "He'd probably suggest some ridiculous, glittery accessory just to make a scene."
"Exactly," Remus said, grinning. "So, let's keep your outfit safely hidden until the party."
On the 31st, Remus and Hermione made their way to Professor McGonagall's office, both of their warm winter robes in their arms and carrying smaller overnight bags that had been shrunk to fit in their pockets. McGonagall greeted them with a fond, albeit exasperated, smile as they stepped inside.
"The things I do for Mr Potter," she muttered under her breath as she waved them toward the Floo powder jar on her mantel. Hermione caught the words and noticed the twitch of Remus's lips; he'd heard it too.
"Safe travels," McGonagall said, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she handed them each a handful of Floo powder. Remus went first, stepping into the crackling green flames with a call of "Potter Manor!" and disappearing in a flash. Hermione followed suit, taking a steadying breath before throwing the powder into the fire and stepping in after him.
She barely had time to catch her breath before she was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug on the other side. "Oof!" she managed, arms pinned to her sides. It was Sirius, grinning from ear to ear.
"Kitten!" he exclaimed, lifting her off the ground for a second before setting her down again. She laughed, feeling her ribs creak from the force of his embrace.
Before she could fully recover, Fleaumont and Euphemia Potter swept in to greet her. They were both warm and welcoming, radiating a kindness that instantly put Hermione at ease. Mrs Potter gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder, saying, "We're so happy you could join us, dear. Do make yourself at home." Mr Potter followed with a friendly handshake and a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Hermione. James has told us so much."
Hermione blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Thank you for having me," she said, returning their smiles with a shy one of her own. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by the genuine warmth emanating from the Potter household.
Just then, James appeared, skidding to a halt in the entrance hall, his hair even messier than usual and a broom in his hand. "Oi, you're early," he said, grinning as he tried to smooth down his windswept hair.
"No, actually, we're right on time," Hermione corrected him with a playful smile.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "must have lost track of time."
His father, Monty he said to call him, gave him a knowing look before turning to Hermione with a twinkle in his eye.
"May I steal you for a moment, young lady?" Monty asked, his voice both curious and kind. "I think I have just the perfect thing for you."
Curious and a little baffled, Hermione followed him down a side corridor to what appeared to be a cosy study filled with shelves of potion ingredients, jars, and other magical oddities. Monty pulled a small vial from a cluttered workbench and held it up with a proud smile.
"I thought this might come in handy," he said, handing her a bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. "I've been working on a new formula—it's a bit stronger and smoother than the commercial version. Just a few drops, and your hair will stay perfect all night, no matter how much dancing you get up to."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Wait... you invented Sleekeazy?" she asked, barely able to contain her surprise. She had seen Lavender use this potion on numerous occasions back in the future, and it had never occurred to her that it was a Potter family invention.
Monty chuckled, clearly delighted by her reaction. "That's right. Though I never thought it would become quite as popular as it has."
Hermione held the bottle with a reverent awe, unable to suppress a smile. "Thank you," she said, feeling strangely honoured to be handed this small part of wizarding history. "I'll make sure to use it carefully."
Monty smiled warmly. "I trust you will. Now, off you go. Effie's setting up in the ballroom, and I'm sure the others are waiting for you."
"What did Dad want?" James asked, looking curious as Hermione rejoined the group.
"You never said your dad invented Sleekeazy!" she replied, shaking her head in disbelief.
James looked genuinely puzzled. "I thought everyone knew?"
"Apparently I've been living under a rock then," Hermione said with a teasing smile, holding up the small bottle Monty had given her. "I had no idea it was a Potter family invention."
James's expression softened, and there was something almost tender in his gaze. "Well, now you know," he said, his tone warm. "So... what do you think of the Manor?"
"You have a very nice home," Hermione said sincerely, her eyes wandering over the elegant woodwork and grand portraits that lined the walls. The house was steeped in history, but it still felt warm and lived-in—a perfect blend of magical grandeur and comfortable family life.
James's face lit up, his smile widening at her compliment. "Thanks. It's home, I guess," he said, a note of pride in his voice. "Want a tour?"
"Sure," she said, her curiosity getting the better of her. "How much time do we have before we have to start getting ready?"
"A couple of hours still," James replied, glancing at the ornate grandfather clock ticking softly in the corner. "Plenty of time to show you around."
He led her through a series of hallways, each lined with various magical artefacts, moving portraits, and pieces of furniture that seemed to hum with centuries of enchantments. Hermione found herself enchanted by the little quirks of the Potter home—a clock that showed the weather outside in animated detail, a self-replenishing fruit bowl that scolded them playfully when they tried to take a bite before dinner, and the magical portraits who waved enthusiastically as they passed.
"This is the sitting room," James explained, opening a set of double doors to reveal a cosy room filled with plush sofas and an intricately carved fireplace. A crackling fire roared in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. A large, faded tapestry hung above the mantle, showing the Potter family tree, with James's name at the very bottom.
"Wow," Hermione breathed, taking it all in. "Your family has a lot of history."
"Yeah," James said, his tone a mix of pride and wistfulness. "Mum likes to say we're an 'old family with new ideas.' We've always been a bit unconventional compared to the other pureblood families. Dad's always experimenting with new potions and spells, and Mum's always got some new project she's working on." He led her to another room, a study filled with stacks of parchment, half-finished potions, and spellbooks in varying states of wear.
Hermione ran a finger over one of the ancient spines, feeling a strange sense of awe. "I love it," she said softly, looking around the cosy, lived-in space. "It feels like... a real home."
James looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiled again, a little softer this time. "Come on, there's more to see," he said, motioning for her to follow him.
He showed her the formal dining room with a chandelier that shimmered with floating candles, the spacious kitchen where enchanted pots stirred themselves, and the sunny conservatory filled with exotic plants that waved their leaves as they passed by.
They ended the tour in the ballroom, where the grand New Year's party would take place later that evening. It was a magnificent space with a high, domed ceiling enchanted to look like a starry night sky. The floors were polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the glittering chandeliers overhead, and a few house-elves were already bustling around, hanging garlands of ivy and enchanted lights.
Hermione stood in the centre of the room, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all. "It's... it's gorgeous," she said, turning slowly to take it all in.
James was watching her, his expression thoughtful. "I'm glad you like it," he said quietly. "This place has always meant a lot to me. And... I'm glad you're here."
Hermione's cheeks warmed under his gaze, and she turned her attention back to the decorations, feeling strangely flustered. "Thanks for the tour," she said, her voice a little unsteady. "It's... I've never seen anything like this before."
James grinned, his confidence returning. "Just wait until tonight," he said, his tone playful. "We'll make it a New Year's to remember."
Hermione's heart fluttered unexpectedly, and she returned his smile, feeling a strange sense of anticipation settle over her. "I'm looking forward to it," she said, and she meant it.
It was time to get ready. James showed Hermione to the guest room she'd be using during her stay, a beautifully decorated space with deep green walls, gold accents, and a large, elegant mirror beside the window that allowed in the fading light of late afternoon. The bed was draped in a rich burgundy canopy, and there was a small vanity table in the corner, already set up with a few essentials for her to use. She thanked him and closed the door behind her, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves.
She took a deep breath, setting out the periwinkle blouse and black skirt that Remus had helped her choose, though she still felt a twinge of self-consciousness about it. Hermione walked over to the vanity, picking up the bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She smiled to herself, remembering Monty's excited explanation about the product's origins. It worked like a charm, making her hair fall in sleek, smooth waves that cascaded down her left side. She pulled the top section back into a simple half-updo, pinning it in place with a small silver clip she'd found in the vanity drawer.
She changed into her chosen outfit, smoothing the fabric down and turning to check her reflection in the mirror. The periwinkle blouse was soft and elegant, bringing out the warmth in her brown eyes, and the black skirt gave it a formal touch that made her feel... a bit like a grown-up. The thought made her smile.
Next came the little details. Hermione applied a light layer of mascara, just enough to make her eyes stand out without looking overdone, and added a touch of lip gloss for a natural shine. She didn't want to go too heavy on the makeup; it had never been her style.
She picked up the bracelet that Andrew had sent her for Christmas—a simple silver chain that felt unexpectedly precious now that she was wearing it—and clasped it around her wrist. Then she put on the necklace she'd received from Remus, a delicate pendant shaped like a small crescent moon, and fastened it carefully around her neck. The earrings, however, stayed the same as always—the simple silver studs she'd worn since she was a baby. They were a small, comforting constant in a world that had turned upside down.
Taking a step back, Hermione studied her reflection one last time. She looked... different. Older, maybe. Her eyes lingered on the jewellery, a bittersweet feeling rising in her chest. She didn't have much to her name—she never really had in terms of jewellery, even before she'd travelled back in time. But what she did have meant something. Each piece she was wearing now carried its own story: a connection to the friends she'd made here, the new family she was building in this strange past.
Finally, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. It would have to be enough. With one last glance in the mirror, she picked up her simple black witches' robe, draping it over her shoulders. The robe's soft fabric felt comforting, grounding her in a way she hadn't expected.
Taking one final look at herself, she squared her shoulders, feeling a surge of determination. She was ready. Hermione stepped out of the guest room, closing the door quietly behind her, and made her way down the hallway to meet James and the others, her nerves settling slightly as she walked. Whatever tonight held, she was determined to enjoy it.
As Hermione made her way down the stairs to meet the boys, she felt a flutter of nerves rise in her chest. But the moment she stepped into the hallway and caught sight of them, she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.
Sirius was the first to react, his eyes widening comically before he let out a loud, exaggerated whistle. "Kitten, you clean up nicely!" he said with a broad grin, practically bouncing over to her and spinning her around as if showing her off to the imaginary crowd. "Who knew you had this in you? Look at you—radiant!"
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back her laughter. "Alright, alright, put me down," she said, gently pushing him away.
Remus, standing a little behind Sirius, smiled softly, his gaze warm and appreciative. He gave her an approving nod. "I told you it would be fine," he said quietly, his voice steady. "You look great, Hermione."
She felt her cheeks warm at the sincerity in his tone. "Thanks, Remus," she said, feeling a rush of relief.
James, however, seemed utterly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes flicking from her hair to her robes and back again. "Wow," was all he managed to say, his voice almost a whisper. He shook his head, clearly trying to collect himself, and offered a lopsided grin. "You look... incredible."
Before any of them could linger on the moment, the sound of voices and laughter echoed through the house—guests were starting to arrive, and the Potters were already moving to greet them. They had no time to stand around.
"Come on," Sirius said, taking Hermione by the arm in his usual dramatic fashion. "Let's go claim our spots in the ballroom before all the boring people get there."
Remus followed with a chuckle, and Hermione let Sirius guide her down the hall, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. As they moved into the ballroom, Peter joined them, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Hermione. He almost did a double-take. "Hermione? Is that really you?"
Sirius scoffed and gave Peter a light slap on the back of his head. "She's wearing mascara, Petey, not Polyjuice. She doesn't look that different."
Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Thanks, Peter," she said, giving him a friendly smile.
A while later, James joined them, looking much more composed. He grinned mischievously, clearly back to his confident self. "So, what did you two get up to all alone in the castle?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Hermione and Remus.
Hermione and Remus exchanged a knowing look, and without missing a beat, they both said in unison, "Library."
Then, unable to hold back, they burst into laughter, doubling over at the ridiculousness of it. James looked between them, baffled but amused, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I should have known," he said, rolling his eyes. "You two and your books."
James leaned in, his expression unusually serious as he glanced around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "So, how was the... furry little problem this month?" he asked in a low voice.
Remus shrugged, his tone casual. "Went okay, I think. Not much worse than usual, right?"
Hermione nodded, giving Remus a sympathetic look. "Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary."
"What Kitten is forgetting to mention," Remus said with a teasing smirk, "is that she's been volunteering with Madam Pomfrey. Apparently, she has nothing better to do than fuss over my scratches."
"Oh, come on," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes but smiling. "You can't tell me it's not useful that at least one of us knows exactly how to treat your wounds."
The other three boys blinked in unison, clearly caught off guard. It was as if they were all suddenly realising that Remus and Hermione had become something of a unit—a fact that had somehow flown under their radar. There was a new dynamic, an ease between them that hadn't been there before. It was Sirius who, predictably, broke the silence.
"So," he said with a wicked grin, "are you two now tangling in sheets that aren't hospital ones?"
"What?!" Remus spluttered, his face turning an instant shade of red.
"Ew. No! That would be like doing it with my brother," Hermione added with a groan, looking just as horrified.
As they vehemently denied the insinuation, they both missed the brief, subtle sighs of relief that escaped both James and Sirius.
Remus noticed Hermione's horrified expression and laughed. "I mean, it's not that bad an insult, Hermione. I suppose I'm a little hurt you'd react that way."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she playfully shoved his shoulder. Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips, their easy banter making the awkwardness fade. There was a comfortable familiarity between them that had become second nature. But then, without thinking, she added with a teasing grin, "You said the same thing after we kissed."
James, who had just taken a sip of his champagne, choked, spluttering as the liquid went down the wrong way. "What?!" he gasped, his eyes wide with shock. Sirius's jaw dropped open, his expression torn between disbelief and stunned amusement.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Remus groaned, burying his face in his hands. Hermione's cheeks flushed, but she only laughed, not backing down. She had forgotten, for just a second, who they were talking to.
"When did that happen?!" Sirius demanded, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "And why didn't I know about this?"
"It was nothing," Remus said hastily, his ears burning red. "Honestly, it was—"
"An experiment," Hermione finished for him, clearly unfazed. "We were curious. It lasted all of two seconds before we both decided we felt more like siblings."
James's eyes were as wide as saucers, and he glanced between the two of them as if trying to figure out whether this was some kind of elaborate prank. "You kissed?" he repeated, incredulous.
"Once," Remus clarified, holding up a single finger, his expression earnest. "And it was probably the most awkward thing that's ever happened to either of us. It meant nothing."
"I repeat," Sirius said, crossing his arms with an exaggeratedly stern expression. "When did this happen, and why didn't I know about it?"
Hermione gave a mock sigh, unable to keep the amused smile off her face. "Couple of days ago. While you lot were home, stuffing your faces over Christmas."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his mouth curling into a mischievous grin. "Should have known leaving you two alone in the castle would be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "What exactly is dangerous about finding out that us dating would feel like incest?"
"Haven't stopped the Blacks before," Sirius shot back cheekily, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
Hermione made a face, and Remus let out a groan. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but your family is not the standard on appropriate familial relations."
Sirius feigned shock, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Kitten, how dare you insult my noble lineage! The House of Black sets the standard for—"
"Utter dysfunction," Remus interjected, his tone dry. "And ancient pureblood nonsense."
Sirius grinned, not missing a beat. "Exactly. Tradition."
"Disgusting," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling. "I can't imagine why you'd want to get as far away from them as possible."
"Oh, trust me," Sirius said, leaning back with a lazy smirk, "I've been trying to do that since I was old enough to walk."
"Which, considering some of your family traditions, was probably for the best," James piped in, a sly smile forming as he joined the conversation. He had been watching them banter with an odd mix of amusement and curiosity.
"Well," Sirius said, shooting James a mock glare, "not everyone has the luxury of growing up in a household that actually believes in decency, Mr Potter."
"Touché," James laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Fair point."
Hermione shook her head, laughing despite herself. "You're all impossible," she said, but there was warmth in her voice. Somehow, this easy banter felt like home—messy, complicated, and full of laughter.
Sirius reached over and tried ruffling her hair, earning himself a playful slap on the hand from Hermione as she ducked away. "We wouldn't have it any other way, Kitten."
"Well," she said, smoothing down her hair and grinning, "I suppose I wouldn't either." She caught Remus's eye, and they shared a small, knowing smile—a smile that said everything without a word, a testament to the odd but genuine friendship they had built.
"All right, enough chit-chat," James said, clapping his hands together. "Are we here to reminisce about Hermione and Remus's awkward kissing experiment, or are we here to have a good time at this party?"
"A little of both, actually," Sirius said, winking at Hermione before flashing a wicked grin at Remus. "But I guess we can get on with the festivities."
Remus, for his part, just chuckled, his earlier embarrassment fading as he gave Hermione an affectionate nudge with his shoulder. "Come on, let's go have some fun," he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
"Lead the way, Moony," Hermione said, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
And so, the topic of the infamous kiss was shelved—at least for the moment—and they made their way back into the midst of the party, laughing and teasing as they went, their bond all the stronger for it.
The ballroom was filled with laughter, chatter, and the soft strains of magical music that floated through the air. As the night went on, Hermione found herself pulled into a dance by James, his hair even more dishevelled than usual, his expression relaxed yet focused.
They moved with the music, easily falling into step with each other. "So," James began, a teasing lilt to his voice, "how's our little project coming along? Between your... extracurricular activities with Remus, I mean." He shot her a playful grin, clearly still enjoying the opportunity to tease her about the kiss.
Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"
"Probably not," he admitted with a chuckle. "But come on, spill."
"Yes," she said, giving him a half-hearted glare. "I was able to do what I needed to. The phial's all set up and hidden. Now we wait and see if I did everything right the next time there's an electrical storm."
"Good," James said, nodding in approval, but Hermione noticed something in his eyes—a shadow that made her smile fade slightly.
"James," she said softly, her tone shifting. "You're still upset about what happened with Lily after... Snape, aren't you?"
He shrugged, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly. "I just... I don't get what she sees in him, you know?"
Hermione sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy. "I don't think it's about what she sees in him," she said gently. "Think about it. Would you want to date someone who, I don't know, hexed Remus every chance they got?"
James's brow furrowed, and he shook his head almost immediately. "No, of course not. But... I doubt they're even that close anymore."
Hermione gave him a sceptical look, choosing her next words carefully. "Maybe. But what if it was someone hexing me? You've only known me for four months. Would you want to date someone who goes out of their way to curse me in the corridors?"
"Definitely not," James said quickly, his eyes widening as if the very idea was abhorrent.
"Exactly," she said, her voice firm but kind. "Then I don't understand why you don't get what Lily's problem is. She's not going to be interested in you if she thinks you're capable of that kind of behaviour. Maybe it's time to stop with the hexes and pranks—at least when it comes to Snape."
James hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before he looked back up at her. "But... you don't care that I do it," he said almost defensively, as if clinging to some last shred of justification.
"It's true, I don't care much for Severus," Hermione said honestly. "But it's not about that. It's about the principle of it. It's about showing Lily, and everyone else, who you really are. I've seen you be kind, James. I've seen you go out of your way to help people, and I think Lily would too... if you gave her the chance."
James looked at her, really looked at her, the sadness in his eyes mingling with something else—hope, maybe, or uncertainty. "You really think it's that simple?" he asked, his voice almost fragile, as if he was afraid of the answer.
"I think it's worth trying," Hermione said sincerely. "You have nothing to lose by being a better version of yourself. And if you do, maybe you'll find that you don't need to prove anything to her at all."
James was quiet for a moment, the music still swirling around them as they moved together, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. "You're different, you know that?" he said softly, his tone almost admiring.
Hermione blinked, a flush creeping up her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "What do you mean?"
"You see things... clearly," he said, his voice thoughtful. "You don't just go along with the crowd or say what people want to hear. You... you make me think, Hermione."
"Well," she said, trying to lighten the mood with a small smile, "that's what I'm here for, isn't it? To make sure you don't completely lose your way."
James laughed, the sound genuine and warm, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, caught in a private little bubble amidst the larger world of the party. It was... nice. Comfortable. A reminder that, despite all the confusion and complications, they were friends.
As the music shifted to a faster tempo, they broke apart, James giving her a playful bow before leading her off the dance floor, a thoughtful expression still lingering in his eyes. She knew that her words had struck something in him, and she could only hope that it would make a difference in the days to come.
Whatever happened between him and Lily, she knew he was capable of being the person Lily deserved—he just needed to see it for himself.
Before Hermione could fully process the lingering emotions from her conversation with James, a warm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her into a fast twirl. She let out a startled laugh as she found herself face-to-face with Sirius, his grey eyes dancing with mischief.
"Mind if I steal you, Kitten?" he teased, already leading her into the rhythm of the new song.
"You never ask," Hermione shot back with a grin, feeling the earlier tension in her chest ease as Sirius's infectious energy enveloped her.
"Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't whisk you away at least once tonight?" he said, spinning her around again, clearly enjoying the chance to be playful. His movements were exaggerated and carefree, making her laugh despite herself.
"You're hardly a gentleman, Sirius Black," Hermione said, letting herself get lost in the steps.
"Ouch, that hurts, you know," he said dramatically, one hand going to his chest as if she'd wounded him. "I'll have you know I'm a perfect gentleman when the mood strikes."
"Uh-huh," she replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. They moved effortlessly together, the banter flowing as easily as the dance itself. Sirius's natural charisma was on full display, and Hermione found herself relaxing more and more with each step.
"You looked pretty serious with James back there," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.
Hermione's smile faltered, but she quickly covered it with a light shrug. "We were just... talking," she said vaguely, not wanting to go into detail about their conversation. "About the usual—Lily, Snape... you know how it is."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and scepticism. "Sure, if you say so," he said, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "You two looked close, though."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, playfully swatting his shoulder. "We're friends. That's all."
"Friends," he echoed, as if the word held some hidden meaning. He twirled her again, pulling her back close enough that she had to look up to meet his eyes. "Good thing, too. Because I've got you now, and I don't share."
Hermione's heart gave a strange, quick flutter at his words, but she laughed it off. "You'd better be careful, Black," she warned, leaning in conspiratorially. "If you keep talking like that, people might actually think you've got a soft spot."
Sirius's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Maybe I do," he said, his tone playful but with a hint of sincerity. "But only for you, Kitten. And Moony. My two little bookworms."
She opened her mouth to retort, but the song ended just then, and he dipped her low, making her squeak in surprise. When he brought her back up, she was laughing breathlessly, and he flashed her a grin before releasing her with a flourish.
"Thanks for the dance," he said, giving her a playful wink before walking off, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the ballroom, a bit dazed and with a warmth in her cheeks that she couldn't quite shake.
Just as she was gathering her thoughts, Remus appeared by her side, holding two glasses of punch. "Everything alright?" he asked, offering her one.
Hermione's heart was still pounding from Sirius's unexpected dip, and she could feel the lingering warmth of his touch on her back. The ballroom's lively chatter seemed to fade for a moment as she accepted the glass from Remus, grateful to have something to hold onto to steady herself.
"Everything's just... fine," she said, trying to convince herself as much as she was Remus. She took a long sip of punch, hoping it would cool the unexpected warmth spreading through her.
Remus's brow furrowed slightly, clearly not buying her nonchalant tone. He had seen the playful exchange between her and Sirius from across the room, and his curiosity was piqued. They stood side by side, watching the couples swirling around them, but Hermione could feel his eyes flicking towards her every few seconds.
Finally, unable to take the weight of his silence, Hermione turned to him with a teasing smile. "You know," she said lightly, "I don't think Sirius is as straight as you think."
Remus's eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice a touch more serious than she expected.
"Just a hunch," Hermione said with a shrug, looking away as if the answer were in the crowd.
Remus blinked at her, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity. "What kind of hunch?" he asked, his tone cautious.
Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of the punch as she considered how much to share. "It's just... he has a way of saying things," she said slowly, her eyes drifting to where Sirius was now laughing with a group of guests. "And it's not just the things he says—it's how he says them. Sometimes, there's more to his words than he lets on."
Remus's brow furrowed slightly, and he followed her gaze to Sirius. "Sirius doesn't talk about that kind of stuff," he said quietly. "At least, not with us."
"I don't think he's ready to admit it yet," Hermione said, her voice gentle. "Maybe not even to himself. But I think there's more to him than he wants everyone to see."
They stood in silence for a moment, both watching Sirius. He had just thrown his head back in laughter, his charm and carefree nature on full display. But Hermione saw something else—a flicker of hesitation, a fleeting glance towards Remus, something almost vulnerable in his posture.
Remus looked thoughtful, his gaze softening as he observed his friend. "I suppose you might be right," he said eventually, his voice tinged with something unspoken.
Hermione smiled, feeling a sense of relief that she had shared her thoughts with him. "You know him better than anyone," she said softly. "But I thought... maybe it was something worth noticing."
Remus didn't reply, but he gave her a small, appreciative nod. They watched in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the comfortable quiet between them saying more than words could. Then, almost as if remembering the punch in his hand, Remus raised his glass in a mock toast.
"To... the mysteries of Sirius Black," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione chuckled, clinking her glass against his. "To the mysteries of Sirius Black," she agreed, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease.
As they sipped their drinks, the music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody. Around them, couples began to sway together, the energy in the room softening. Remus set his empty glass down and looked at her with a sudden determination.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked, his voice surprisingly shy.
Hermione blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, um—sure," she said, smiling. She set her own glass aside, and he offered her his hand with a gentle smile.
They moved onto the dance floor, the soft music wrapping around them like a blanket. It was different from dancing with Sirius—more grounded, more comfortable. Hermione let herself relax, the tension in her body melting away as Remus led her with a quiet grace that made her feel safe.
They danced without speaking, the gentle sway of the music guiding them. Hermione rested her head on Remus's chest, feeling a sense of peace that was rare and precious amidst the chaos of their lives. She closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her.
When the song ended, Remus pulled back slightly, his eyes warm and affectionate. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Anytime," Hermione replied, feeling that same warmth settle in her chest again. They stayed there, in the middle of the dance floor, sharing a smile that didn't need any explanation.
Hermione caught sight of Peter standing alone, half-hidden by one of the pillars, his shoulders hunched slightly as he watched the couples move around the dance floor. There was something about the way he stood—so solitary, almost invisible—that tugged at her heart. Determined not to let him feel left out, she excused herself from Remus with a warm smile and made her way over to him.
"Hey, Peter," she said, her voice soft so as not to startle him. His head jerked up, and he blinked at her in surprise. "Would you like to dance?"
Peter's eyes widened, and for a moment he just stared at her, clearly taken off guard. "Uh, me?" he asked, his voice uncertain.
"Yes, you," Hermione said with a gentle smile, holding out her hand. "Come on, it'll be fun."
Peter hesitated, glancing around nervously as if expecting the others to jump out and laugh at him. When no such thing happened, he looked back at her, his expression softening. Slowly, almost shyly, he reached out and took her hand.
"Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hermione led him onto the dance floor, and they started to move to the music. It was a bit awkward at first—Peter's movements were stiff, and she had to guide him gently to match the rhythm. But as they swayed together, she noticed him relaxing bit by bit, a small, genuine smile forming on his face.
"You're a good dancer," Hermione said encouragingly, even though they were only shuffling from side to side.
Peter's cheeks flushed pink, but he looked genuinely pleased. "I'm... not, really," he said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm just trying not to step on your feet."
"You're doing great," she assured him, giving his hand a light squeeze.
As the song continued, Peter's shoulders seemed to loosen, and he even managed a little spin, his face lighting up with delight when he didn't trip over his own feet. Hermione laughed, and for a moment, the awkwardness faded, replaced by a simple joy that was rare to see in Peter.
When the song ended, he looked almost reluctant to let go of her hand, his gaze a mix of gratitude and happiness. "Thanks, Hermione," he said quietly. "I... I really enjoyed that."
"Me too," she said sincerely, giving him a bright smile. "We'll have to do it again sometime."
Peter's face turned a deeper shade of pink, but he nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I'd like that," he said.
As she moved back towards the others, she glanced over her shoulder to see Peter watching her with a soft, almost wistful expression. It was a reminder that even within a tight-knit group, it was all too easy to overlook the quiet ones—the ones who faded into the background. She resolved to make sure he never felt that way again.
Rejoining the rest of the Marauders, she noticed Sirius giving her a knowing look, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're full of surprises tonight, Kitten," he said, his tone playful but carrying a note of admiration.
"Just doing my part," Hermione replied lightly, feeling a sense of contentment settle over her as they all continued to enjoy the festive evening together.
"That was really nice of you," Remus whispered in her ear.
Hermione turned slightly, meeting Remus's gaze. He had a soft smile on his lips, the kind that made her heart ache just a little. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she already had a good idea.
"Dancing with Peter," Remus said quietly. "You have no idea how much that meant to him. He doesn't get a lot of attention, you know... not like the rest of us. It was really kind of you to include him."
Hermione felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks, brushing off his praise with a small shrug. "It's not a big deal," she said softly. "He's part of the group too. It just felt right."
Remus's smile widened, his eyes shining with approval. "It was a big deal," he insisted, his voice full of quiet conviction. "You've got a good heart, Hermione. You see people—the ones who usually get overlooked."
She felt an unexpected lump form in her throat, and she blinked rapidly, trying to push back the sudden wave of emotion. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick.
Remus seemed to sense the depth of her feelings, and without another word, he gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping back. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes—a shared understanding that didn't need to be put into words.
Sirius's boisterous laughter suddenly cut through the moment, pulling them both back to the lively atmosphere of the ballroom. The music picked up again, and James had already grabbed another partner for the next dance, while Peter was at the refreshment table, his face still slightly flushed but looking more at ease than she had seen him all night.
"Looks like the party's not over yet," Remus said, nodding towards the dance floor. He held out his hand with a playful twinkle in his eye. "Care for another round, or have you had enough dancing for one evening?"
Hermione grinned, slipping her hand into his. "I think I've got one more dance left in me," she said, allowing him to lead her back onto the floor.
The crowd was buzzing with excitement as the countdown began, everyone's voices mingling together in anticipation. Hermione found herself caught up in the swell of the moment, squeezed in between Remus and James, the latter's warmth radiating against her side. She was hardly aware of who she was standing next to, so focused was she on the large clock that loomed at the far end of the ballroom.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" The voices grew louder with each number, and Hermione felt her heart racing, the excitement and cheer infectious. The ballroom was alight with the glow of hundreds of twinkling lights and the soft hum of magic in the air. Effie and Monty Potter were beaming at everyone from the grand staircase, toasting to the New Year with glasses raised high.
"Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"
A cheer erupted as the room burst into noise—poppers going off, laughter and cheers filling the space. Confetti rained down from the enchanted ceiling, sparkling in the dim light. It was in that moment, amidst the joyful chaos, that Hermione felt a warm presence lean in closer, and before she could react, James pressed a quick, gentle kiss to her cheek.
"Happy New Year, Hermione," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth, his face close enough that she could see the boyish grin lighting up his features.
She froze, caught entirely off guard. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on her tongue. A strange flutter took over her stomach, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The whole moment seemed suspended in time, and she had no idea how to respond. There was a heat blooming in her cheeks, but she forced herself to smile back, hoping she looked casual and unfazed.
"H-Happy New Year, James," she stammered, the words coming out more breathlessly than she intended.
He stepped back, his expression easy and open, as if he hadn't noticed her inner turmoil. Remus caught her eye from across the group, an amused but knowing smile tugging at his lips, and she knew he had seen the whole thing. He raised his glass to her with a wink, and she felt her cheeks flush even more.
The room erupted into a series of celebratory hugs, laughter, and clinking glasses, and for a moment, Hermione was swept up into the joyful atmosphere, surrounded by well-wishers on every side. Sirius, being Sirius, swooped down on her and twirled her in the air, laughing as he did. When he set her down, she was breathless and dizzy, trying to regain her bearings.
"Did I miss something?" Sirius asked, eyeing James with a teasing look. James just shrugged with an innocent expression, as if kissing her cheek was the most normal thing in the world.
Before she could respond, Effie Potter appeared at her side, offering her a glass of sparkling cider and pulling her into a warm hug. "Happy New Year, dear!" she said warmly, before moving on to hug the next person.
As the room settled back down, Hermione tried to ignore the way her heart kept skipping whenever she glanced over at James. She told herself it was nothing—a friendly gesture, a New Year's tradition—but deep down, she wasn't quite sure why it had rattled her so much.
Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes when he'd said those words or the way his grin seemed just for her in that moment, as if for a split second, there had been no one else in the room but them.
But the night carried on, the music starting up again as couples and friends paired off to dance, and Hermione, feeling suddenly self-conscious, slipped off into a side room, needing a moment to collect herself.