The rumour mill at Hogwarts was relentless and, in this case, strangely amusing in its absurdity. Everyone seemed to know that something monumental had happened within the Marauders, but they had no idea what. It was obvious from how Sirius sat alone in classes, at the Gryffindor table, and even slept in the common room instead of the dormitory. The rest of the Marauders didn't speak to him at all, and the gossip about their rift spread like wildfire.
Hermione found herself the centre of it all, unfortunately. Some of the more lurid rumours held that she'd been the cause of the breakup—specifically that the fallout was about the infamous birthday kiss. Whispers followed her everywhere.
"I heard she broke Sirius's heart," one girl murmured loudly as Hermione walked past.
"She's ruined the Marauders," another hissed to her friend. "Bet she thrives on the drama."
Hermione gritted her teeth but tried to ignore it.
"Someone should give her a taste of her own medicine. Maybe she'd stop being so smug if someone actually showed her she can't just get away with this."
The words hit her like a slap, but she pressed her lips together, walking away before she could lose her temper. Yet it didn't take long for her to realise that some people were taking the gossip to heart in more harmful ways.
A few days later, she received an envelope by owl in the Great Hall. Assuming it was just another letter from home, she opened it without a second thought—only to feel a searing, sharp pain shoot up her hand as a foul-smelling liquid spilled out, burning her skin. She let out a cry, dropping the letter, her hand stinging and turning an angry red.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!" James exclaimed, rushing over as she cradled her hand. "What happened?"
"I— I don't know," she stammered, biting back tears from the pain. "I just… it burned."
Remus was beside her in an instant, helping her to her feet. "We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."
As they hurried her out of the common room, a few students exchanged guilty looks, and whispers started again, louder this time. By the time Madam Pomfrey had bandaged her hand, the entire Gryffindor Tower knew something serious had happened.
"What did that envelope even have in it?" Remus asked quietly as he held her uninjured hand, his gaze filled with concern.
"Something foul," she replied, grimacing. "I don't know what it was, but it's clear someone was angry. All because of these stupid rumours."
At the Gryffindor table one morning, James sat looking more torn and worn-out than anyone. His eyes shifted from Sirius, slouched at the far end of the table, to Remus, who was picking at his food silently, to Hermione, her hand still bandaged. The strain of his divided loyalty weighed heavily on him. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly at a loss.
"So…" Lily began quietly as she sat beside Hermione in the library later that day, casting a glance around before leaning in. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you and the boys?"
"It's… complicated, Lily," Hermione said, shutting her textbook and rubbing her temple with her unbandaged hand. "It's not really my story to tell."
Lily nodded, though she looked frustrated. "I gathered that it has something to do with Snape… He's been glaring daggers at Sirius and the others all term. And well, even more so now than usual since the last full moon."
Hermione's silence said enough. Lily looked at her, studying her face carefully, and her eyes narrowed in thought. "Remus too, then?" she asked, her voice soft.
Hermione flinched, but she couldn't deny that Lily had figured it out on her own. "Look, I can't say anything about it, alright? Just… leave it be, for now."
Lily gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm not asking for details, Hermione. I'm just… worried. You've been through enough, and with all the rumours—"
"I can handle the rumours," Hermione cut in, though her voice held an edge of bitterness. "It's not like they're true anyway."
Lily's expression softened, her hand reaching out to squeeze Hermione's shoulder. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't believe a word of it. And anyone who matters won't either."
Hermione returned the gesture with a faint smile, though her thoughts were still troubled.
The next evening, as Hermione sat by herself in the common room, James wandered over and dropped onto the couch beside her, sighing heavily. "This whole situation's a mess," he muttered, running a hand over his face.
She turned to him, her voice low. "I know it's hard, James. But he has to face what he did."
James nodded slowly. "I get it, Hermione. I do. I'd be just as furious if I were you. And Remus… he has every right to be as well. More than anyone. But I also know Sirius, and if he's left alone like this…" He trailed off, his voice thick with worry.
Hermione sighed, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her bandage. "You're afraid he'll do something reckless, aren't you?"
James's eyes met hers, weary and conflicted. "I don't think he's ever been this isolated. And knowing Sirius… yeah, I think he might."
Hermione bit her lip, glancing over to where Sirius sat alone in the corner, a sullen figure hunched over a textbook he clearly wasn't reading. Despite everything, a pang of sympathy tugged at her heart. "I don't know, James… I can't forgive him. Not for this."
"I'm not asking you to," James said quietly. "I just… I don't know. Maybe he deserves the isolation, but it's eating at him. I don't want him to fall apart."
Hermione looked back at Sirius, then at James, her expression resigned. "I'll… think about it. But he can't just get off without understanding how serious this was. He could have ruined Remus's life, James. Maybe even ended it."
"I know," James whispered, his voice barely audible.
Hermione sat across from Remus in the quiet corner of the Library a few days later, a small stack of books open between them. She was lost in thought, her mind flipping back and forth over whether or not she should bring up Sirius. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Remus surprised her by speaking first.
"I've been thinking," he said slowly, closing the book in front of him, "that I'm going to tell James that… if he feels like he needs to talk to Sirius, he should."
Hermione looked at him, surprised. "Why?" she asked carefully, not wanting to assume but a bit bewildered by this turn of heart.
Remus ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. "I'm… not ready to forgive him, Hermione. But… I don't want him to suffer either. And with Christmas coming up, if he's still not on speaking terms with James by then, he won't have anywhere to go. And I just—" He trailed off, swallowing hard.
Hermione nodded slowly, feeling a pang of understanding. For all the hurt and betrayal, it was obvious that Remus still cared. "Yeah… I get it," she said softly. "You're a better person than he deserves, you know?"
Remus gave her a small, sad smile. "I think I'm just… I don't know, trying to be the person I'd want someone else to be if I were the one who messed up."
There was a quiet pause, each of them lost in thought. Then, almost as if it pained him to say it, Remus continued. "I'll… tell James that Sirius can move back into the dorm as well."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure about that?"
Remus shrugged, his eyes focused on a spot on the table. "What do you think curtains and silencing charms are for?" His tone was light, but there was a heaviness behind his words.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "You're too good of a person. Really. I mean, I could still wring his neck with my bare hands."
Remus chuckled at that, the sound breaking some of the tension in the air. "Honestly, Hermione, it actually helps a lot that you're here to keep the rage going. Makes me feel like I don't necessarily have to if I don't have the energy for it."
She smiled wryly, leaning back in her chair. "Glad to be of service." She reached over, covering his hand with hers. "You do what feels right, Remus. I'll be angry enough for the both of us."
His lips curved into a genuine smile. "I know you will."
With the new seating arrangement in the Great Hall, mornings had become a peculiar affair. Peter now routinely joined Sirius at one end of the table, while Hermione and Remus claimed a quieter spot at the other. James, true to his peacekeeping nature, flitted between the two groups, though his restlessness was clear. He seemed hopeful that the divide would eventually mend, yet for now, he made do with the progress they'd achieved.
One morning, just a couple of weeks before the holiday break, James sat down with Hermione and Remus, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He looked a bit like he'd been rehearsing something in his head.
"So, Mum was asking if you're coming to the New Year's party again this year," he said, aiming his question at both of them but keeping his gaze on Hermione.
Hermione and Remus exchanged a look, and Hermione was the first to speak, her tone careful. "I'm assuming Sirius will be there?"
James nodded, looking sheepish. "Yeah… he's spending the whole holiday season with us. Doesn't want to even set foot in Grimmauld."
"Then no, sorry," Hermione replied quickly, already feeling the weight of the awkwardness settling in.
She glanced at Remus, but it was clear he was mulling it over, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he said, "If Sirius can manage to go the night without speaking to me… then yeah, just for the party."
James perked up, his eyes darting back to Hermione with a hopeful glint. She hesitated, feeling cornered; she knew if Remus went, he'd need backup. She let out a sigh, carefully considering her words.
"Fine. If he keeps at least twenty feet away from me at all times, doesn't talk to me, doesn't look at me… basically pretends I don't exist, then yes, I'll go. And I'll do the same for him."
James's face split into a relieved grin, his smile dazzling as he looked between them. "Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me," he said sincerely, the gratitude in his eyes unmistakable.
Before either of them could respond, James bounded off, clearly thrilled by the minor victory he'd managed.
Remus chuckled, watching him go. "The infamous Potter charm. Works every time."
Hermione shot him a glare but couldn't quite hide the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Do shut up."
After a moment, her tone softened. "Speaking of holiday plans… would you want to come over to the Burrow for a couple of days? We could head to Potter Manor together afterward. It'd be nice to have a bit of time away from school."
Remus nodded, looking pleased by the invitation. "I'll check with my dad, but I'm sure he won't mind."
She added, with a note of relief, "At least the full moon falls before the train this year."
"Yeah," Remus agreed, a faint smile crossing his face. "For once, the timing actually works in my favour."
Hermione quickly wrote to Molly, asking for permission for Remus to visit for a few days over the holidays and for both of them to leave for Potter Manor on the 31st. She had barely sent the letter when an enthusiastic response arrived the very next day. Molly not only approved but, upon hearing about the New Year's party, insisted on finding Hermione something nice to wear.
"Just send along your measurements and favourite colours, dear," Molly had written, "and I'll take care of everything before you come home!"
Hermione tried to protest, but Molly's next letter practically begged, saying it was her one chance to shop for a girl. Chuckling, Hermione relented, seeing clearly now why the Weasleys ended up with seven children; Molly's determination to have at least one girl was undeniable. It was only too bad, Hermione mused, that Ginny had turned out to be the least girly girl she'd ever met. Poor Molly.
With an amused sigh, Hermione sent the required details, hoping that Molly's choice wouldn't turn out to be an absolute disaster. It was strange to have someone fussing over her like this, but she found she didn't mind.
As the full moon approached, Hermione finally gathered the nerve to bring up something she'd been thinking about for weeks. She found Remus in the common room, tucked away in their usual corner with a book, but she could tell by the slight tension in his shoulders that he was feeling the effects of the upcoming transformation. She knew it wasn't the best timing, that she should have brought this up sooner—he always got more irritable this close to the full moon—but she couldn't seem to muster the nerve before this, and couldn't wait any longer either. Who knew when the others would ever manage the Animagus transformation, or whether this plan was still on, and she wanted to give Remus some comfort.
"Remus," she started, keeping her tone light but determined, "I was thinking… maybe I could join you for the full moon this time?"
Remus looked up from his book, his eyes flashing with something between shock and irritation. "Absolutely not," he said, his tone clipped. "You remember what happened last time. I'm not risking you like that."
Hermione took a steadying breath, preparing her response. "Moony was only aggressive because he smelled the humans in the tunnel. Once they were gone, he calmed right down. I was there, on your back the whole time, and the wolf didn't have any issues with it."
Remus shook his head firmly. "No, Hermione. Even if you're in Animagus form, it's too dangerous. Maybe—maybe if someone else were with you… but no. Your form is so small. What if the wolf took a snap at you?"
She watched him, the worry lines etched deep in his face, and felt a pang of guilt. He looked torn, but resolute. "Okay," she said softly, backing down. "I won't push. Promise."
His expression softened slightly, and he nodded. "Thank you. I just—look, I can't handle the thought of hurting you, Hermione. Even by accident."
She gave him a small smile, placing a hand over his. "I know. That's why I trust you."
He looked down at her hand on his, his face relaxing a fraction, a hint of the gratitude he didn't have words for flashing in his eyes. "I appreciate that," he murmured, the edge in his voice finally easing.
The transformation had been rough—one of the worst Hermione had seen in a while. Madam Pomfrey's concerned gaze and the severity of Remus's injuries spoke volumes. Moony had been particularly agitated, no doubt a lingering reaction from the previous month's incident. Hermione was there bright and early, offering to help with the bandages and salves as Madam Pomfrey tended to him. Remus bore the pain with his usual quiet resilience, grateful that the full moon wouldn't interfere with the holidays, even if it meant an uncomfortable journey on the train the next day.
By the time Madam Pomfrey declared he'd be staying in the Hospital Wing until morning, Hermione had already volunteered to go up and pack his things. She figured it would spare him the effort and give her something productive to do.
Unfortunately, when she entered the boys' dorm, she found Sirius there, sprawled on his bed, eyes red-rimmed and anxious. His head shot up at the sound of her arrival, his expression twisting between hope and guilt.
"Hermione," he began, clearly desperate for news, "is Remus—?"
Without a second thought, she cast a quick Silencing Charm on him, cutting off his question entirely. She felt no inclination to entertain his curiosity or ease his anxiety, not when his actions had played such a large role in Remus's current state. Moving straight to Remus's bed, she set about packing his things, making sure to tuck in his favourite scarf and a few books she knew he'd want.
She felt Sirius's frustrated gaze on her the entire time. He sat up, watching her every movement as if willing her to turn and say something. She ignored him, keeping her focus solely on the task in front of her.
For a moment, he looked as though he might rise from the bed, as if he were going to do something. But then, with a defeated slump of his shoulders, he flopped back onto the mattress, his frustration melting into resignation. Hermione continued her work in silence, not sparing him a single glance.
Once she was done, she turned to leave. As she reached the door, she lifted the Silencing Charm with a flick of her wand, allowing him the freedom to speak again—though she didn't stay to hear a word of it.
On the Hogwarts Express, Hermione and Remus managed to find a compartment to themselves. Remus lay stretched out on his side, his head resting in her lap, face turned into her stomach as he tried to rest despite the lingering pain in his back. Hermione didn't mind the closeness; if anything, she felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Remus made a soft, contented sound, almost like a purr, and she couldn't help but smile.
She knew how the scene might look to anyone who passed by, and she couldn't exactly blame people for assuming there was more to their relationship. But despite the rumours, Hermione would never dream of withdrawing the comfort she was giving him; their friendship went deeper than words or perceptions.
A little while later, Lily opened the compartment door but paused when she took in the sight of Remus curled up on Hermione. Her gaze softened as she took in his exhausted state, and without a word, she offered Hermione a gentle nod, mouthing, "I'll cover for him," before quietly closing the door.
Not long after, James slipped in, raising an eyebrow at the sight but looking more amused than anything. He settled down across from them, a warm smile playing on his lips as he watched them.
"I knew from the start you'd be worth bringing into the fold," he said softly, his tone sincere.
Hermione glanced up, a little surprised. "Even though I'm the reason the Marauders are still broken up?" she murmured, glancing at Remus to ensure he was still asleep. "Remus would possibly have forgiven Sirius already if not for me."
James shook his head, leaning forward with a serious expression. "I think it's good there's someone in his life who shows him it's okay to stand up for himself. Remus has always been the one to keep the peace, even at his own expense. You're teaching him he doesn't have to do that."
"Hm," she replied noncommittally, though James's words resonated with her more than she let on.
"I mean it, Hermione," he insisted, his eyes warm. "I admire your integrity."
She sighed, looking down at Remus, her fingers still moving absently through his hair. "If I had such integrity, I would have gone to Dumbledore and confessed to being there too. I was just as involved."
James tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. "That would have accomplished absolutely nothing, except maybe making things harder for Remus. Sirius needs to learn from his mistake, and Remus needs to know it's okay to be angry."
Hermione gave him a faint smile. "If you say so," she murmured, not entirely convinced but comforted by his words.
James shifted, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "I'm glad you're coming to the New Year's party, by the way," he said, a bit more brightly. "Save me a dance?"
She couldn't help but smile. "Sure," she replied, feeling her heart flutter slightly despite herself.
With that, James settled back into his seat, content to keep them company. Remus stirred a little in his sleep, curling closer to Hermione, and she continued her gentle motions, feeling a strange peace as they rode quietly through the countryside toward Christmas and whatever awaited them in the new year.
As they disembarked from the train, Hermione felt a sense of unease tighten her stomach. She spotted Mrs Potter right away, her familiar warm smile lighting up as she made her way over to them. Despite the lingering tension within the group, Euphemia seemed blissfully unaware, her focus on greeting everyone warmly. James and Sirius trailed behind her, with James looking a bit sheepish and Sirius… well, looking every bit the rebellious enigma he'd recently become.
Hermione kept her interactions with Sirius civil, though a bit clipped, determined to maintain some semblance of peace. She'd hoped to keep things light, but she couldn't help a small wince when little Bill Weasley, standing with Molly and looking around the station with awe, caught sight of Sirius. Bill's eyes went wide, taking in the whole ensemble—long, dark wavy hair pulled back in a half ponytail, a leather jacket thrown over a faded jumper, black jeans that had seen better days, and a large scarf wrapped around his neck.
"Cool," Bill breathed, eyes sparkling with admiration, completely oblivious to the underlying tension.
Hermione almost laughed at the innocence of his admiration, though it hurt a little to see how easily Sirius slipped into the role of the "cool older guy" that younger kids looked up to. He was the very definition of a muggle bad boy, an image he seemed to be leaning into more and more, maybe as a way to separate himself from his family.
Euphemia noticed the interaction and chuckled, giving Bill a wink. "Seems like someone's got a fan."
Sirius gave a faint smirk, his expression softening for the young boy's benefit. "Well, it's good to know someone around here appreciates taste," he teased, ruffling Bill's hair as he passed. His tone was light, but there was a hint of something more guarded in his eyes, especially when his gaze met Hermione's for the briefest second before flicking away.
James nudged Hermione, leaning in to whisper, "You okay?" She managed a nod, giving him a small smile. She could tell he was caught in the crossfire of conflicting loyalties, and it wasn't easy for him to balance it all.
As they made their way through the platform, Arthur hoisted a squirming Charlie onto his hip, giving Hermione a warm smile. "Ready to be home?" he asked, looking between her and the boys.
"More than ready," Hermione replied sincerely, and Euphemia offered a gentle hand on her shoulder, her expression as comforting as always.
"Well, the Manor's going to be a lively place come New Year's, so get ready," Euphemia said with a wink. "And don't worry, dear," she added, catching Hermione's eye. "If there's anything you need while you're with us, just let me know."
Hermione nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. Being with the Potters, with all their warmth and acceptance, felt almost like a respite—a reminder of what genuine support looked like.
As they walked through the platform, Hermione noticed Mrs Weasley swooping in, her motherly instincts on full display as she caught sight of Remus. She gave him a quick once-over, her brows knitting in concern.
"Oh, Remus, you're looking peaky," she fussed, reaching up to straighten his scarf. "We'll have to fatten you up a bit when you come to visit us at the Burrow."
Remus flushed, casting a glance at Hermione, who tried to hide a smirk as the comment clearly took him by surprise. Mrs Weasley's voice, however, was loud enough to draw the attention of James and Sirius, who were standing just a few paces away. Both of them raised their eyebrows, their surprise evident.
"Remus is coming to visit?" James asked, clearly delighted by the idea, though his eyes flicked to Hermione with a look that said, Why didn't you tell me?
Hermione gave a little shrug, her expression innocent. "Of course, the more the merrier at the Burrow, right?"
Sirius tried to mask his reaction, though Hermione noticed the faint glimmer of something in his eyes. "I didn't know you were going to the Weasleys," he said, his tone light but laced with the slightest hint of bitterness. "Sounds like a nice time."
Mrs Weasley, who'd been dusting off Remus's shoulders as if she could already see a few pounds in need of adding, turned to Sirius with a warm smile. "You're always welcome, of course, dear. But I heard you'll be with the Potters this year."
Sirius managed a half-smile, his hands sliding into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Yeah. Thanks, though."
Euphemia Potter, who had just returned from gathering everyone's trunks, placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "It'll be lovely to have you with us, Sirius," she reassured him. "The more, the merrier at Potter Manor too."
Hermione's gaze shifted to Remus, who was glancing between his friends, a faint, thoughtful look in his eyes as he processed this surprise arrangement. She could tell he was both touched and slightly uncomfortable with the extra attention.
As Mrs Weasley pulled back with a satisfied smile, she added, "And don't you worry, Remus. We'll have you feeling right as rain and eating like a horse in no time."
Hermione gave Remus a small nudge. "You won't be able to escape her cooking, you know."
Remus smiled, nodding as he leaned into the warmth of the Weasleys' hospitality. "Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, his gratitude evident.
James, still looking slightly affronted that he'd missed out on the news, shrugged good-naturedly. "Guess we'll just have to plan our own visit to the Burrow sometime, eh?" He flashed a grin at Mrs Weasley. "Though I think you've got enough of us to handle for now."
Mrs Weasley laughed, waving her hands in playful exasperation. "Oh, heaven help me if that ever happens! But you're all welcome, of course."
With that, the group slowly dispersed, each heading to their respective families, the quiet warmth of unexpected plans and budding friendships lingering as they looked forward to the holiday ahead.
Once Hermione was back at the Burrow and settled into her room, she noticed the notebook glowing with a fresh message from James. She opened it, grinning as she saw his teasing line scrawled in the private section:
Keeping Moony's holiday plans a secret from us, are you? What else are you hiding, Prewett?
Hermione rolled her eyes, chuckling as she picked up her quill and responded.
It's just a short visit before the New Year. He'll be Flooing over on the 28th, and we'll head to Potter Manor together for the party. You'll survive the suspense, I think.
She paused, flipping back a few pages, noticing once again how little had been written on the group message pages since she'd created the enchanted notebooks. The private sections had some scattered messages, mostly between her and James, but the group section was strangely empty—a sharp contrast to how they'd all imagined these notebooks would bring the whole group closer.
Her gaze returned to James's teasing note. Despite the lighthearted tone, she couldn't help but feel he'd been the only one really trying to keep their little network alive. A pang of sympathy rose in her as she thought about his efforts to keep everyone connected despite the lingering tension.
A moment later, another message appeared under hers:
Fine. Keep your secrets, then. But just so you know, this better mean you're bringing more sweets. We've all seen how the Weasleys feed you.
She laughed, quill scratching across the page as she replied:
I think Molly is plotting to fatten us both up. I'll see what I can do about sneaking some Christmas biscuits past her.
For a moment, she almost mentioned Sirius but stopped herself. Their fragile truce was still fresh, and though Sirius would also be there on New Year's Eve, she wasn't quite ready to broach that subject with James, even in the playful tones they usually used here.
She flipped over to the page she shared privately with Remus, quill poised with a small grin on her face as she thought back to Mrs Weasley fussing over him at the platform. She knew Remus wasn't used to such open affection, and part of her worried it might've been overwhelming.
Hey, hope your dad was happy to see you. Just checking that Molly's fussing didn't scare you off from visiting the Burrow! She means well and has practically planned out every meal for when you're here, by the way. You know how she is—there'll be enough food to feed all of Gryffindor.
Hermione leaned back, waiting for his reply. She knew Remus wouldn't let on if he was feeling uncomfortable, but she hoped the extra reassurance would help him feel welcome. After a few moments, the notebook lit up his handwriting.
Honestly, it's been ages since anyone fussed over me like that. Not since Mum…
Molly was... a bit overwhelming, maybe, but in a good way. No need to worry—I'm still planning on visiting. I don't think I'd dare miss it at this point.
She smiled, quickly writing back.
Good! Though fair warning, she has a soft spot for "fattening up peaky students." We may not leave the table until we're rolling away.
A moment later, his response came, tinged with a rare bit of humour.
I suppose if I must suffer, at least I won't suffer alone.
Hermione flipped through the pages of the notebook, her eyes catching on the messages she'd exchanged with Sirius before The Prank, each one a small, vibrant piece of the effortless camaraderie they'd once shared. Despite her lingering annoyance over his reckless birthday kiss, she hadn't let it fully dampen their friendship at the time. Now, though, there was a bitter edge to those memories—remnants of a trust she'd once given him without hesitation.
The first message she lingered on was one from the day after his birthday. His familiar scrawl filled the page:
So, just checking again, no hard feelings over last night, right, Kitten?
She had been less forgiving then, responding with a clipped:
Like I said little warning next time would be nice, Sirius. I don't particularly like being part of your shock-and-awe tactics.
His reply had been swift, half-apologetic but still with that trademark Sirius charm:
You have my sincerest apologies. If I must be honest, it was worth it just to see everyone's faces. Besides, you're the only one in this castle who can handle my dramatics.
You're lucky I'm more tolerant than most.
Lucky doesn't begin to cover it.
Rereading it now, Hermione could feel the sting of disappointment settle in, her initial hurt at the kiss dwarfed by everything that had followed. Still, she found herself flipping further, skimming through more lighthearted exchanges that now felt weighted with the knowledge of his betrayal.
A few days later, he'd written to her during History of Magic, boredom practically dripping from his hurried letters:
Moony's next to me taking notes like his life depends on it. Think he'd notice if I slipped him a Dungbomb?
She'd rolled her eyes, scrawling back:
Yes, and so would Professor Binns, even if it is hard to tell if he's actually aware of anything.
You're no fun. Thought you were my partner in crime.
Not when your "crimes" involve blowing things up mid-lecture.
She could almost hear his laugh through the ink as she reread her response. They had so often fallen into easy banter, their conversations a mix of challenges and dares, his thrill-seeking side balanced by her steadier presence. She realised that, at least then, she had believed he wouldn't intentionally harm anyone—Remus least of all.
Then came one of the last exchanges before The Prank:
You know, Kitten, you're the one person who's never tried to change me. That's got to count for something.
She'd hesitated before responding, the weight of his words catching her by surprise:
Maybe because I believe people have to want to change themselves. Not much use trying to force it.
Wise as ever. Got any more words of wisdom for me? Go on, make me regret all my life choices.
She'd laughed at the time, teasing back with a simple:
If you need me to tell you what's right and wrong, we're in more trouble than I thought.
Reading it now, she felt a pang at the irony. She'd thought their friendship meant something more, that maybe she could keep him grounded. But in the end, he'd made choices that shattered her trust.
With a sigh, she shut the notebook, the memory of those playful, teasing exchanges echoing in her mind. The once-familiar banter that had come so easily between them felt impossibly distant, overshadowed by his reckless actions that she couldn't in good conscience overlook anymore given what she knew. For the first time, she found herself wondering if Sirius ever truly appreciated his friendships—or if he'd always been so focused on his own impulses that he hadn't realised how deeply he could hurt someone else.