As September wore on, Hermione gradually realised that James had been using the enchanted notebook far more than she expected. She'd initially assumed the notebooks would mostly serve as a last-resort messaging tool or a means to coordinate their various schemes. But James surprised her by regularly writing in their private section, the messages meant only for her.
He started off with casual notes, asking her opinion on little things—like what she thought of the Gryffindor team's lineup for the season, or whether she'd had a chance to read the new book on transfiguration techniques they'd spotted in the library. Sometimes he would ask questions that caught her off guard, things she hadn't anticipated him being curious about. How she'd found herself in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw, or whether she'd always been interested in Arithmancy. Every note came with an openness she wasn't used to seeing from him, and soon enough, it became a habit to check her notebook in the evenings, her heart giving a little flutter whenever she saw a new message from James.
It was during one of these quiet exchanges that something struck her: James hadn't so much as approached Lily since the start of term. He hadn't made any grand gestures or snuck glances at her during meals, hadn't tried to run into her in the corridors, hadn't so much as mentioned her name. It was… strange. A whole three weeks had passed without him pestering Lily—a record by any standard.
Hermione couldn't quite ignore the pang of hope that bloomed in her chest, though she quickly brushed it aside. There was no reason to believe it meant anything about her. It was likely just James finally growing up, taking to heart the advice she'd given him last year. If anything, she reasoned, it would probably lead to the breakthrough he'd needed with Lily all along. Maybe he was learning to respect her space, realising that he didn't need to be so forceful in his admiration.
Still, she found herself smiling as she read his latest note in her notebook one evening, her quill resting gently on the page as she thought about what to write back. It was a small question, innocuous enough: What's your favourite place to read in Hogwarts?
She hesitated for a moment, considering her response, then dipped her quill in ink and wrote back:
I have a soft spot for the Astronomy Tower, though not during lessons—it's quiet, and no one really thinks to look for you there. Plus, there's something nice about reading with a view of the stars.
The response came back almost immediately, his handwriting casual and slightly crooked from the speed.
I'll have to try that sometime. Not with a book, though—don't have the attention span for it. Maybe with a chocolate frog stash?
Hermione snorted softly, shaking her head as she wrote back.
James, if you're going to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower with chocolate, the least you could do is bring a book and pretend you're broadening your mind.
There was a pause, and she waited, grinning as she imagined him grumbling at her comment. Finally, his response appeared:
Fine, I'll try. But if I end up bored out of my mind, I'm holding you personally responsible.
As their exchanges continued over the next few days, Hermione couldn't help but notice a shift in their friendship, something deeper and more genuine blooming in the spaces between the lines of their messages. He asked her about her favourite authors, her thoughts on the latest DADA teacher, even what she thought about Sirius's latest haircut, or really the lack thereof ("Honestly? I think he's showing off," she'd replied, amused at how long it has gotten). And in turn, she found herself asking him things too—things she'd never thought to ask before. Why he loved Quidditch so much, what his favourite spell was, what he missed most about home.
One evening, as she re-read some of their conversations, Hermione felt a strange warmth settle in her chest. It was different, talking to James like this—away from the others, in a space where he felt comfortable enough to let down his usual bravado. Sort of like the day they had just to themselves at the Manor. And while she knew it might not mean what she wanted it to mean, she felt herself treasuring each of these quiet, private exchanges.
By the end of October, the rhythm of fifth year had settled into a comfortable, if chaotic, routine. The pressure of O.W.L.s and the amount of homework that brought with it kept everyone busy, and while that might have meant fewer escapades together, the Marauders didn't seem too put out. Remus, with his prefect duties, meetings, and constant catch-up sessions around the full moon, was stretched thin, though Hermione could see he was doing his best to stay on top of things. Even so, his exhaustion was evident, dark circles appearing under his eyes by mid-month. She worried for him, but Remus seemed determined to prove he could manage it all.
Meanwhile, the extra responsibilities on Remus had an unexpected benefit for the others. With him occupied, they had more freedom to execute their plans without him catching wind of them—like their recent second break-in to Filch's office. They successfully retrieved the Death's Head Hawk Moth chrysalises they needed for the Animagus potion again, sneaking off with their prize and barely escaping Filch's wrath. But that wasn't the end of it. They'd also committed to setting up a hidden spot in the Forbidden Forest to collect dew under the moonlight, as Hermione had done the previous year. After the boys witnessed her success with the ritual, they'd sworn to follow her method precisely, though they adamantly claimed they didn't need her help for it.
Still, Hermione wasn't completely out of the loop. The boys had entrusted her with one essential task: keeping Remus distracted whenever they needed to sneak off. She'd come up with the perfect strategy, bringing him to the Library for research, throwing in a new study idea or asking about a topic she knew would spark his interest. Studying in the Library was Remus's haven, and it was an activity the others had no interest in, making it the perfect excuse.
When the October full moon arrived, it was a mad dash for them all, just as it had been for Hermione back in December. She took Remus to the Hospital Wing, ensuring he was settled in under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye. The following morning, after checking that he was resting comfortably, Hermione returned to the Library to finish up the reading she'd started the night before. But as she wandered through the aisles, looking for a quiet corner, she caught sight of Lily, sitting alone, her head buried in her hands.
Hermione's heart went out to her friend, who was softly sniffling as she stared down at her book, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. She hesitated only a moment before approaching.
"Lily?" she asked gently, sitting down beside her.
Lily looked up, eyes red and a bit swollen, and tried to muster a smile, though it was weak. "Oh… Hermione, hi. Sorry, I didn't… didn't mean to make a scene."
"You're not making a scene," Hermione said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "Are you alright?"
Lily took a shaky breath, trying to keep her composure. "It's… it's Severus," she said finally, her voice breaking. "He's been completely ignoring me this year. Like I don't even exist."
Hermione listened quietly, nodding in understanding. She hadn't seen much of Snape herself recently, though she had caught a glimpse of him in the corridors a few times, often with a cold, distant expression as he walked with a group of Slytherins who shared his disdainful looks toward others.
Lily continued, her voice thick with frustration and hurt. "We've been friends since we were kids, Hermione. I thought… I thought that would mean something. But it's like he's just… slipped away. I tried to reach out, but he's been ignoring me all term."
Hermione squeezed her shoulder gently. "I'm so sorry, Lily. That's awful. You deserve so much better than that." She could tell this was more than just a passing upset—Lily looked genuinely heartbroken, as though she'd been carrying this pain alone for weeks.
Lily gave a small, bitter laugh, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "I just feel like such an idiot. I should've seen this coming. He's been spending all his time with… with people who are just so wrapped up in all that pureblood nonsense, and here I am, thinking I could somehow make him see reason."
Hermione nodded, her mind racing. She didn't want to overwhelm Lily, but she could tell that her friend needed to talk. "It's not your fault, Lily. You've always been a good friend to him. He's the one making this choice, and it doesn't mean you did anything wrong."
Lily gave a watery smile, looking slightly comforted by Hermione's words. "Thanks. I… I guess I just needed to hear that. It feels like everyone's picking sides lately. Even here at Hogwarts, people are so quick to talk about who's supporting who. And Severus…" She trailed off, the pain clear in her voice. "He's just slipping further and further away."
Hermione bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. "Maybe it's not too late. People can change, Lily. Maybe he'll realise what he's giving up if he keeps going down this road."
Lily looked at her, hope flickering in her eyes for a brief moment, but it quickly faded. "I don't know, Hermione. It feels like he's already gone." She glanced down, taking a steadying breath. "But thank you for listening. I didn't mean to dump all of this on you."
"You didn't dump anything," Hermione assured her, giving her a gentle smile. "That's what friends are for. Anytime you need to talk, I'm here."
They sat together for a while, quietly, until Lily's breathing calmed and her eyes no longer looked as glassy. Finally, she gave Hermione's hand a squeeze, her usual spark of resilience returning. "Alright," she said, her voice steadier. "Thank you, Hermione. You're a really good friend."
Hermione returned her smile, feeling a surge of warmth as she watched Lily regain her composure. After another couple of sniffles and a quick wipe of her eyes, Lily took a steadying breath, then looked at Hermione with a curious glint in her eye.
"So," Lily began, her tone casual but probing, "how are things with you and James?"
Hermione blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. "There's no such thing as James and I," she said with a laugh, though she felt her mind flit to their recent private exchanges in the notebook. She also found the line of questioning painfully ironic, considering Lily's to become the mother of his child, mother of her childhood friend. And here she was nudging James and Hermione together yet again. "We're just… friends. Like all of us are."
Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You spend a lot of time with him, though," she pointed out, her tone light but observant.
"Because we're a group," Hermione countered, shrugging. "But trust me, there's no separate unit with James and me. Honestly, I spend way more time alone with Remus than with James, helping him catch up with classwork when his prefect duties aren't keeping him occupied."
Lily smirked, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm well aware of Remus's study habits, and I feel like when he is not with you, he is with me on patrols," she replied. "But we both know he only has eyes for a certain star."
"Hmm," Hermione replied noncommittally, careful not to reveal anything. She wasn't sure if Lily was just making an astute observation or if Remus had actually confided in her.
"Anyway," she added, smiling, "I already told you last year, it's the same with James. He's entirely focused on a particular flower. Nothing's changed there."
Lily's face softened, but her voice held an ironic edge. "Oh, please. He hasn't so much as looked at me this year. Which, trust me, I don't mind. It's just… odd. And I'll admit, it's nice that he's stopped hexing people left and right. It's almost like he's… growing up," she admitted, sounding slightly impressed despite herself. "Now if he could just reign Black in…"
"Oh, no one can reign Sirius in," Hermione replied, shaking her head with a laugh. "We both know that's a lost cause."
Lily chuckled, looking relieved. "True. Still, it's odd not having Potter around, peacocking in every corridor." She hesitated, giving Hermione a sidelong look. "It's… quieter without that side of him. But maybe that's for the best."
Hermione couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, a mix of amusement and sympathy. "I think it's for the best, too," she agreed, though a part of her wondered if maybe James had just needed a nudge to see Lily differently, or if perhaps he'd grown genuinely interested in friendship, and what Hermione had to say, instead of just trying to impress. She hoped it was a sign of growth rather than some kind of temporary phase like last time.
After a quiet moment, Hermione gently nudged Lily's shoulder. "So, if I can't bring Sirius to heel, any chance you can nudge Remus to get more rest? Prefect duties are practically dragging him to the ground."
Lily grinned, her eyes brightening. "Oh, believe me, I've been trying. I'll keep at it—might need some help from you though. He does take his studies way too seriously."
Hermione chuckled. "You're telling me. Imagine how bad it is if I'm saying it's too much? I'll work on him too. Between the two of us, maybe we'll manage to get him to take a day off."
They shared a conspiratorial smile, and Hermione felt a renewed sense of solidarity.
They hadn't really thought much about the map in weeks, having been swept up in the whirlwind of O.W.L. prep, a Gryffindor Quidditch match, and the excitement of a Hogsmeade weekend thrown in. But on the evening before Sirius's birthday, Remus brought it up casually while they were lounging in the common room.
"Shouldn't we finish it?" he asked, breaking the usual flow of conversation. "The map, I mean. I think it's time."
The others perked up, all nodding in agreement, and without another word, they grabbed the nearly-completed parchment and snuck up to the boys' dormitory, Hermione in tow. They huddled around the map on Sirius's bed, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the torches on the walls.
The castle was fully detailed now, with floors and rooms meticulously sketched out. It wasn't perfect—there were likely a few hidden passages still undiscovered—but it was close enough to be called complete. Those could be added later on as well. The final step was the charm itself, and they each cast the Homonculus Charm over the map together, Hermione watching in fascination as their combined magic settled over the parchment like a mist, shimmering briefly before taking hold.
And then, in an instant, the dots appeared, each one labelled with a name, marking every single person in the castle.
For a moment, the five of them sat back in awe, gazing at the fruit of their efforts as they watched tiny, moving dots traverse the corridors, go up and down staircases, and settle into common rooms or dormitories. Hermione felt a thrill, realising that they had truly done it—created a map that showed every living person within the walls of Hogwarts. But her awe was short-lived.
A moment later, her eyes caught a single dot labelled with her name. Both of them. Her name was shifting between her real and adopted name every few seconds, as if the map couldn't exactly decide which one it was, or maybe both. Hermione Granger/Prewett.
The boys' heads all snapped up, looking at her, then back down at the map, their expressions ranging from confusion to curiosity. They were quiet for a moment, giving her time to say something, to explain. Hermione's heart pounded, a dozen thoughts racing through her mind, each one more flimsy than the last. She swallowed, trying to compose herself, and finally said the first thing that came to mind.
"So… I guess this is as good a time as any to mention that I was adopted," she said, forcing a weak smile.
Their eyes didn't leave her, a mix of curiosity, sympathy, and confusion crossing their faces. She'd anticipated that much, but she hadn't thought of the questions that might come with it. For a moment, she considered saying nothing more, but Sirius spoke up.
"So… you're not a pureblood, then?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. It wasn't judgmental, but it cut deeper than he might have realised, the weight of the unspoken question there.
Before she could reply, James shot Sirius a hard look. "Does it matter, Sirius?"
"No, of course not!" Sirius said quickly, holding up his hands. "It's just… well, it explains a lot, doesn't it?"
Hermione took a steadying breath. She knew it wasn't a perfect explanation, but it was something—something she could build a story around, a story that would make sense. "My… biological parents were Muggles," she began carefully, her voice steady but soft. "They didn't know what to make of magic when they found out. There were… complications, and eventually, I was adopted into the Prewett family. But not many people know about it, and I'd like to keep it that way." She glanced at each of them, hoping they understood her unspoken plea.
"You can trust us," James said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. The others quickly nodded in agreement, their eyes on her with a warmth and sincerity that made her heart swell.
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner," Hermione continued, her gaze dropping to the map. "It's just… sort of a security thing, I guess. That's why they were hesitant to send me to Hogwarts as well. And no one's supposed to know I'm not really a Prewett."
Sirius, his earlier surprise replaced by a quiet understanding, gave her a faint smile. "Well, Prewett or not, you're still one of us," he said. "And for what it's worth… I get it."
Remus looked over at her, his expression one of genuine sympathy. "Thanks for telling us, Hermione. I can't imagine that was easy."
"It's okay," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn't want you to think I was keeping secrets for no reason. And it's not something I… I guess I just wasn't ready to talk about it. But thank you," she added, looking around the group, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she saw their reassuring expressions.
Peter nodded fervently, giving her an awkward smile. "You've always been one of us, Hermione. You don't have to worry about that."
James shot her a reassuring grin, as if to reinforce Peter's words. "Right. And just think—now we get to help you keep your secret. We're pretty good at that, I'd say." He glanced down at the map, admiring their handiwork.
Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a smirk. "Well, enough sentimentality. Shall we see what our dear caretaker Filch is up to?" He pointed at the map, drawing their attention to Filch's dot, which was patrolling the first-floor corridor with Mrs Potts faithfully trotting alongside him.
As they leaned in, their focus shifting back to the map, Hermione felt a strange sense of relief settle over her. She'd been terrified of how they might react, but they'd accepted her truth without question, reaffirming her place within the group. They were her friends—her real friends, who didn't need bloodlines or pure wizarding names to trust her.
And, as she watched James lean over and point at another moving dot labelled "Severus Snape," with an expression of mischief, she knew she'd found a family here, no matter what her name might say.
Nothing and no one could stop Sirius Black's sixteenth birthday bash—not the fact that it was a Monday, not the prefects' warnings, not even the idea of classes the next morning. The Gryffindor common room was bursting at the seams with students, not just from Gryffindor but from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as well. Music blared, Firewhiskey and Butterbeer flowed, and laughter filled every corner of the room. The Marauders had clearly gone all out, making sure Sirius's "sweet sixteen" would be an unforgettable night.
Hermione found herself swept up in the festivities, dancing with Sirius, James, Remus, and anyone else who pulled her into the fray. The room felt warm, buzzing with laughter and camaraderie. She'd known Sirius had a knack for drawing a crowd, but this party surpassed anything she'd seen before. She was enjoying herself, grinning as she twirled around the room, her cheeks flushed from the dancing and the occasional sip of Firewhiskey she'd accepted to keep Sirius from complaining she wasn't "properly celebrating."
What she absolutely hadn't expected, though, was the kiss.
They had been dancing, laughing at some ridiculous twirl he'd spun her into, when suddenly, without warning, Sirius pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers for everyone to see. It wasn't gentle or subtle; it was a bold, brash display, one that left her shocked and caught entirely off guard. She froze for a second, unable to process the crowd cheering around them, then pushed him away, her hand flying out instinctively. Her slap cracked through the room, silencing the laughter around them in an instant.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she demanded, her voice tight with shock and anger.
Everyone stared, their expressions a mixture of confusion and curiosity. After all, this was Sirius Black, the most popular boy in the house, all of Hogwarts really, practically worshipped by half the female students. There probably hadn't been a single girl who had ever rejected him, let alone publicly. Hermione's reaction wasn't just unexpected; it was unthinkable.
Sirius looked back at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he shrugged, his posture relaxed and nonchalant, as if he hadn't just crossed a major line. But there was something else in his expression, something Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint—a defiant edge. It dawned on her then, as she stared into those stormy grey eyes, that this might not have been about her at all. To Sirius, she'd always been off-limits, because he believed her to be a pureblood, and that was just how things were done in his world, pureblood girls weren't to be taken advantage of. But now that he knew her truth, now that he saw her as a "safe" object for his rebellion against his family's expectations… he'd decided to act on it.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, not with the warmth of the Firewhiskey, but with anger. It stung deeply to realise she'd been used as a pawn in some twisted rebellion against his family's ideals. For Sirius, maybe she was a chance to flout convention and rile up the Black family's view of blood purity. Though how he wanted to achieve that she didn't know. Even if they ever found out, she was still a "Prewett" to the outside world—blood traitor, but not a Muggleborn, not a "Mudblood."
Fury rose in her chest, mingling with embarrassment, and she felt the heat of the crowd's stares burning on her skin. She didn't wait for him to explain, didn't wait to see if he would say anything at all. Instead, she turned on her heel and marched toward the stairs, leaving behind the stunned silence and the whispers that erupted as she made her way up to the girls' dormitory. She slammed the door behind her, the echo of it reverberating in the quiet of the empty room.
Hermione's heart was pounding as she tried to calm herself, her hands still shaking. She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, staring at the wall, willing herself to breathe. She was angry—furious, in fact—not just at Sirius, but at the unfairness of it all. He'd kissed her as if her presence were a tool for him to make some statement, to challenge some invisible boundary that only existed in his world.
A knock sounded softly on the door, and she heard James's voice from the other side, hesitant and unsure. "Hermione? Are you… are you alright?"
She didn't answer immediately, but she felt her anger cool slightly, melting into something quieter. She took a deep breath, then opened the door, meeting his worried gaze.
"I'm fine, James," she said, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion. Then her eyes narrowed slightly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. "How did you even get up here?"
James's grin widened, clearly enjoying the moment. "Can't slide back down the stairs if you're not actually on them," he said, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world, his hand resting casually on the broomstick.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, though her amusement was hard to hide. "McGonagall ought to know about this loophole."
"Oh, please don't tell her," he replied, adopting a mock-pleading expression. "She'll add an anti-broom charm, and then how will I ever conduct clandestine visits to the girls' dorms for strictly platonic and very necessary check-ins?"
"Strictly platonic, of course," Hermione replied with a slight laugh. But even as the words left her mouth, she felt a pang of something sharper beneath the laughter. Why did her heart keep betraying her, whispering that there could ever be more between them?
It was foolish, she knew that. James had been nothing but a loyal friend, maybe a bit more attentive and thoughtful with her than with the others, but he had never crossed the line. And why would he? His heart, she reminded herself firmly, had always belonged to Lily Evans.
Still, it hurt in a quiet, persistent way. Standing there, seeing him look at her with such open concern and warmth, Hermione had to force herself to stay grounded. He was only here because he was a good friend—because that's what friends did. But her traitorous heart kept stirring, and she felt a longing for something she knew couldn't be hers.
James tilted his head, studying her face with an expression of slight confusion, like he'd picked up on something but wasn't entirely sure what it was. "You sure you're alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine care. "You look… like you've got something on your mind."
She gave a tight smile, hoping he couldn't read her too well. "Yeah, I'm fine, really," she said, forcing lightness into her tone. "Just tired from all the excitement tonight, I suppose."
He nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer before he seemed to accept her words. "Well, if you're sure. Just don't let that idiot downstairs get to you, alright? He doesn't deserve the satisfaction."
Hermione's smile softened, genuinely this time. "I won't. And… thank you, James. Really."
"Anytime." He grinned, a glint of that familiar mischief back in his eyes. "Besides, what are friends for if not breaking a few rules for each other?"
"Right," she said, her voice steady, though inside, her heart gave another painful twist.
He gave her one last nod, then turned to head back down the corridor, his broom tucked under his arm. But just as he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back with a grin, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he deliberately stepped onto the edge of the staircase, letting the enchantment trigger beneath him.
In an instant, the steps transformed into a smooth slide, and James went flying down with a whoop of laughter, his broom tucked firmly under his arm as he surfed his way to the bottom.
Hermione stifled a laugh, shaking her head. "Ridiculous," she muttered, but she couldn't help smiling. Typical James Potter—turning a simple walk back to the common room into an adventure.
As his whoops of joy echoed back up the stairwell, Hermione leaned against the doorframe, letting herself smile, if just for a moment. It was impossible not to feel warmed by his infectious, uncontainable energy, even with her earlier heartbreak still lingering.
Later that night, as Hermione lay in bed, still processing the day's events, her notebook glowed softly, signalling a new message. She opened it, curious, and found a note scrawled in Sirius's unmistakable, slightly messy handwriting in the private section.
Kitten,I'm sorry. I was a prat. Please forgive me.
A pause as she read, a mix of emotions washing over her. She could feel his sincerity in the few short words, the apology somehow amplifying the regret and sheepishness woven into his handwriting. This was something Sirius didn't do easily—apologising—and the vulnerability of it softened the lingering hurt she felt from earlier.
After a moment, she picked up her quill and wrote back.
You really were a prat, Sirius, she replied, unable to help the smirk that formed as she scribbled the words. But yes, I forgive you. Just… maybe don't do that again without warning me first. No matter what statement you are trying to make.
The words appeared in the notebook, and then another line blinked to life.
Promise. You're one of the few people I actually don't want to upset.
She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips, her heart feeling lighter as she closed the notebook.