On Lily's birthday, Hermione approached her quietly at the Gryffindor table, offering a small smile. "Happy birthday, Lily," she said, handing her a small card she'd charmed to twinkle with a subtle shimmer, just enough to bring a smile to Lily's face.
"Thanks, Hermione," Lily replied, her voice warm and appreciative.
James, catching wind of the exchange, looked up as if only just remembering. "Oh! Right—Happy Birthday, Evans!" he said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. "So, any special plans today?"
Lily shook her head, though she was amused by his sudden enthusiasm. "No, nothing special, really."
James's eyes lit up as an idea struck him. "Well, why not let the Marauders throw you a party? You know, we throw a mean party. It's Friday so wouldn't even mess with classes tomorrow. I know you prefects care very much about that."
Lily laughed but raised her hands in polite refusal. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass this time."
James just shrugged, grinning. "Suit yourself," he said casually, seeming unbothered as he slid into his seat beside the boys.
Lily shot Hermione a look, her eyebrows raised. "What a novelty," she murmured, genuinely taken aback, "being treated as an actual human being. You're good for him, Hermione."
Hermione felt her cheeks warm. "Thanks. And happy birthday again," she said with a smile before taking her place beside James, who was already engaged in the morning's spread, his face lighting up at a discovery.
"Hermione, try this! I think it's new," he said, waving a slice of toast with a generous spread of jam that Hermione hadn't seen before in the selection. He moved the toast toward her with a flourish, his eyes twinkling.
She laughed, leaning in to take a bite from the piece he offered. "It's good," she murmured through a smile, watching his grin broaden as he eagerly tried it himself, nodding approvingly as if he'd just discovered the world's best-kept secret.
"Right?" he asked, wiping a small smear of jam from the corner of her mouth with his thumb in a completely unconscious, almost domestic gesture. Hermione's heart fluttered as he then licked the bit of jam off his thumb with a playful smirk.
"It's... almost as good as treacle tart," she teased, letting their fingers intertwine as she settled into her seat.
James chuckled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he went back to his toast. Across the table, Lily shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched the two of them.
Despite her earlier insistence on avoiding Quidditch practices, Hermione found herself making her way to the pitch one chilly February afternoon, dragging a bemused Remus along with her. They both carried books, though as soon as they found a place in the stands, Hermione's remained firmly shut, her eyes fixed on the players zipping around on their brooms. Remus gave an exaggerated sigh, casting a sideways look at her as she watched James, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Not even going to pretend to read, are you?" he teased, though he kept an eye on the field as well, sneaking glances at Sirius as he effortlessly sent a Bludger flying to the other side of the pitch.
"Oh, hush, Remus," Hermione whispered back, unable to contain her smile as James's head turned in her direction. The moment he saw her, his face split into a grin so bright it practically glowed, and she gave him a small wave, propping her chin in her hands, content to watch him despite the February chill nipping at her cheeks.
After another hour and a particularly intense round of drills to finish everything off, James broke away from his teammates and zoomed over to where she was sitting, stopping just in front of her with a bashful look that didn't quite fit the cocky Quidditch Captain image he usually wore.
"I always wanted to try something," he murmured, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. And before Hermione could ask, he leaned to the side, in a half barrel roll, letting himself dangle upside down from his broom, his face inches from hers. She let out a mix of a laugh and a gasp, halfway between amusement and worry.
"James! You're going to fall!"
But James only chuckled, his voice soft. "Willing to take the risk." He leaned in, capturing her lips in a quick, upside-down kiss that somehow felt both exhilarating and ridiculous. She kissed him back, laughing softly as she pulled away.
"You ridiculous man," she murmured, though her smile softened the words.
With a flourish of releasing his hold on the broom with his thighs and dangling by his arms a bit, James dismounted from his broom, landing beside her on the stands, looking sheepish but thoroughly pleased with himself. "So, what made you come out here today?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her.
"Got a bit of friendly advice from Lily," she admitted, though a hint of a blush crept up her cheeks. "She said it'd probably make your day if I came down to watch."
James raised an eyebrow. "Evans is giving you dating advice? About me?"
"Well," Hermione chuckled, "I think she's just relieved she doesn't have to fend you off herself. So, you know, it's probably more self-serving than anything."
James laughed, shaking his head. "Fair point. Honestly, I can see now how... off-putting my behaviour might've been. Probably didn't help that I didn't know how to be subtle."
Hermione hesitated, almost asking if he'd ever wished he could go back and try again with Lily. But she wasn't quite ready to open that can of worms.
Remus, closing his book with a loud thud, cleared his throat. "Well, I'm just going to head back in, if you two don't mind."
"No, we'll come with you," James said, smiling at Hermione. "Will you wait for me until I shower and change?"
Hermione's cheeks heated at the thought, picturing him, sweat-dampened and fresh from Quidditch, stepping under the steamy shower. "Yeah, sure," she managed, trying to sound nonchalant.
Remus groaned, shaking his head. "I'm definitely not sticking around for this. Bye!" He made a quick exit, leaving them alone.
Hermione chuckled as she and James made their way down from the stands to the changing rooms. The rest of the team had already gone inside, leaving them mostly alone as they walked down the corridor. Just as they reached the door to the locker rooms, James turned to her with a grin.
"Want to come in? It's freezing out there," he said, holding the door open.
Hermione felt her face flush. "Fine," she muttered, stepping inside, pretending she didn't see the satisfied smirk on his face.
He leaned down, capturing her lips in a warm, searing kiss before pulling back with a laugh. "Sorry. I'm absolutely disgusting. Give me two seconds to clean up, and then I'm all yours."
Transfixed, she nodded as he disappeared into the showers. She slumped against the wall, her heart racing as she heard the water start to run, then turn off not long after. A few moments and shuffling sounds later, James reappeared, dressed casually with his hair still damp, sticking up every which way.
"You're going to catch your death going out in the cold like that," she said, taking her wand and casting a quick drying charm on his hair, which only made it fluffier. She laughed as he tried to pat it back down, his usual cocky demeanour softened.
"Much better," she grinned, leaning closer. She reached up, caught his face in her hands, and kissed him again. He responded in kind, pressing her back against the wall. Her heart thrummed with his every touch.
They broke apart at the sudden sound of the Ravenclaw team filing into the changing rooms, met by the gleeful taunts and hoots of the players as they caught the two of them in the act.
"Getting in some extra credit with the Quidditch Captain, are we?" one of the Ravenclaws snickered.
Hermione pulled back, blushing furiously while James just laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulder as they made their way out, unbothered.
The stars must have been working overtime, Hermione thought as she rolled over that Valentine's morning. Not only was it a Saturday Hogsmeade weekend, but a full moon was only due the following night, so no severe interference on that front either. Sure it still left her worried about Remus, but the worst of it only came the next day. She had tried to talk him into doing something lighthearted with her for the day to keep his mind off things, but he'd waved her off with a sleepy smile, assuring her that he'd just sleep and read in the dorms, possibly the common room if he felt cooped up or adventurous. Besides, if she had plans with James, Remus didn't want her to waste the day fussing over him.
The only problem was... James hadn't said a word to her about going to Hogsmeade together, no secretive winks, no usual signs of him plotting something. By that morning, she was a bit deflated, certain he'd either forgotten or—worse—that maybe she'd assumed too much. She was a bit envious of Alice who in all her first date jitters was probably already in the village meeting Frank Longbottom, current Head Boy.
Her sulking didn't go unnoticed either, as Marlene threw her a pitying look across the dorm room. "No plans today, Hermione?"
"Seems not," she said, feigning a casual shrug. "Nothing's set, anyway."
Just as she said it, a light tap, then another, came from the window. Alice muttered about the wind rattling the pane until a series of louder clinks echoed through the room.
Lily, closest to the window, raised an eyebrow. "That… is not the wind." She drew back the curtains and burst into laughter. "Hermione, I think this is for you."
Hermione frowned in confusion and went over, her friends close behind. Outside their window, hovering on a broom, was none other than James Potter himself, pelting small conjured pebbles at the glass until she appeared. She opened the window, feeling the sharp bite of the winter air hit her face, but she was too busy staring at him to care.
"Are you barking mad?" she asked, half-wondering if he'd flown up on impulse. This was way higher than anything on the Quidditch pitch.
In answer, James simply grinned, and with a swish of his wand, a large banner appeared in mid-air, unfurling with the words, "Hermione, will you come to Hogsmeade with me?"
It was over-the-top. It was ridiculous. And somehow, her heart was racing faster than ever. She leaned out the window, yelling over the wind, "Of course, you prat! Now get down on the ground before you break your neck!"
Instead of obeying, James blew her a dramatic kiss, turned his broom, and, with an exaggerated twist, performed a couple of daring backward loops through the air. Hermione rolled her eyes, laughing in spite of herself, but finally, he swooped back down toward the courtyard, leaving her with the biggest grin plastered on her face.
When she turned back to the room, the girls were all staring, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"I don't know why," Marlene said, shaking her head in disbelief, "but that was so much more romantic than anything he ever did for Lily, though equally as over the top."
Lily snorted, crossing her arms but with a smirk. "Oh, please, Marls. It's only creepy if it's unwanted. Hermione's over the moon."
Blushing furiously, Hermione was about to protest, but Mary grabbed her arm. "All right, that's it, we're getting you dolled up. You've got a date with the madman."
"Oh, honestly—" Hermione began, but she was cut off by the others gathering around her with wands and a gleam of determination.
"No, no, you don't get to argue," Mary insisted, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling her toward the mirror. "If James Potter is putting on a whole Quidditch display just to ask you out, the least you can do is look spectacular."
They went to work, Marlene adding a few charms to give her hair loose waves, while Lily dabbed a hint of blush and gloss on her. Mary contributed a light spritz of perfume that left Hermione smelling faintly of lavender. By the end, she barely recognized herself in the mirror, her usual low-maintenance style transformed into something polished and slightly ethereal.
"Wow," Hermione whispered, turning her head to admire the subtle waves in her hair.
"See?" Lily grinned, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "You're ready."
She grabbed her winter cloak, heart pounding as she made her way down to the Entrance Hall. Just as she descended the last steps, there was James, leaning casually against the stone archway with a playful smirk, the very picture of boyish confidence, hair still windswept but somehow still looking deliberate.
"Miss Prewett, you look ravishing," James said, offering her his arm with a grin that practically sparkled in the chilly February air. "Ready for the best day of your life?"
"Big promises, Potter," Hermione replied, unable to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks as she took his arm. "I hope you can keep them."
In response, he leaned in for a quick kiss, his eyes dancing with mischief. But as he pulled back, he tilted his head and sniffed slightly, eyebrows furrowing. "Is that… a new perfume?"
"Oh, um, yeah. The girls thought they'd play fairy godmother," she explained, looking a little sheepish. "I think it's Mary's."
James gave a short, appreciative nod. "It's nice…" But then his expression shifted as he ducked away suddenly, sneezing loudly into the crook of his arm. "Excuse me."
Hermione's eyes widened as he blinked, probably just as surprised as she was. "Bless you! Are you getting sick?" She could just imagine him catching a cold from his wild broom antics that morning in the harsh February wind.
He waved her concern off, though his nose was clearly still tickling. "No, I think it's actually… the perfume."
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione said, feeling suddenly horrified. "Let me wash it off, then, before we go." She made to turn back, but he held up his hands.
"Are you a witch or what, woman?" he teased, and Hermione slapped her forehead, laughing at her own oversight.
She took out her wand, casting a quick Scourgify followed by a charm to dispel lingering scents. "Better?"
He leaned in, testing the air and grinning when he didn't sneeze. "Much." He pulled her close, giving her a proper kiss, long and warm, before pulling back.
"Duly noted that lavender is a no-go," Hermione said with a laugh. "Any other allergies I should be aware of?"
He thought for a moment. "Nope. That's the big one. Extremely allergic to lavender. One whiff of the real stuff, and it's sneezes for days." He took her hand again, leading them onward as he tilted his head playfully. "What about you? Any allergies I should know about?"
She shook her head. "Nothing quite as dramatic as that. But shrimp will make me break out in hives within minutes."
He chuckled, giving her a sideways glance. "Noted. No seafood feasts for Miss Kitten then."
Their pace was relaxed as they strolled down the path towards Hogsmeade, each footstep crunching lightly over the February frost.
"So, any grand plans for this legendary date?" Hermione asked, side-eyeing him.
James chuckled, eyes glinting with his usual mischief. "I'd say it's for me to know and you to not worry about, but I get the sense you're not one to relinquish control so easily."
"Whatever gave that away?" she quipped, eyebrows arching playfully.
They both laughed, their voices blending with the soft sounds of other students chattering along the path toward Hogsmeade. He took her hand more tightly and glanced down, his gaze warm and thoughtful. "Alright, alright. Here's the loose plan, then. I thought we'd start at Tomes & Scrolls. You pick any book or two—my treat."
"Oh, really?" Hermione felt her heart flutter, but she kept her expression light. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," he said, looking mock-wounded. "It's Valentine's Day. Can't a guy spoil his girlfriend?"
She looked at him, visibly delighted. "You really do know the way to my heart."
"I just want to see you happy," he said, shrugging. "After the bookshop, Honeydukes for sweets, and then a quiet lunch at The Three Broomsticks?"
"Wait—no Madam Puddifoot's?" Hermione asked, feigning disappointment. She could barely keep a straight face as she watched his expression.
James stopped, looking at her with bewilderment as if re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about her. "Do you… want to go there?"
"Absolutely not," she said, chuckling.
He let out a loud sigh of relief, clutching his chest. "Thank Merlin. I mean, I know lots of girls think it's romantic, but us guys…"
"Oh, I'm with you there," Hermione assured him. "I don't need all that frill and pink in my life."
James chuckled, and before she could anticipate it, he spun her around, lifting her slightly off her feet as he brought her back down with a soft, sweet kiss in the middle of the road. She laughed, her cheeks tingling both from the cold and from his warm breath against her lips.
"You're ridiculous," she whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder as they started walking again.
"Ridiculously in love with you," he said with a smirk, the words slipping from his lips so casually that it caught her completely off guard. It was Hermione's turn to stop in her tracks, the snowy path and the laughter of passing students fading to the background. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to catch up with what he'd just said.
He noticed her stunned silence and instantly faltered, his hand mussing up his hair nervously. "I—I'm sorry. That was… a bit much, wasn't it? Way too soon, maybe." He let out an awkward laugh, looking anywhere but at her. "Forget I said it—"
"No, no, no," Hermione cut him off, her eyes searching his face. "Don't apologise. I… I love you too." The words tumbled out before she could second-guess herself, and her heart pounded as she saw the disbelief in his eyes. "I have… for quite some time, actually," she continued, her voice soft but steady. "You just… well, you caught me off guard."
James's grin returned, but it was different this time—softer, more vulnerable, as if he, too, couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. His eyes met hers, and she felt her breath catch as he took a step closer, reaching out to take her hand. He traced his thumb across her knuckles, a look of pure wonder lighting up his face.
"Well then," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Looks like this really is the best day of my life."
Hermione chuckled, feeling warmth flood her cheeks as she gazed up at him. "It's still only halfway over, James."
His grin widened as he slipped his hand around her waist, pulling her close, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good. That means I have a lot more time to prove just how ridiculously in love with you I am."
And with that, he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was tender, and deep, and felt like a promise. In that moment, Hermione was sure of one thing—nothing had ever felt this right.
They wandered leisurely through Hogsmeade, lingering in Tomes & Scrolls as James seemed adamant that she pick at least two books, despite her protests, and they spent an indulgent half-hour browsing through the dusty stacks. When she finally chose a well-worn collection of obscure potion theories, and a tome of advanced charms his face lit up as he handed over his Galleons, clearly thrilled with her choice.
"See? Worth every Knut," he declared as they stepped back into the bustling street, the bag of books swinging between them.
When they finally reached Honeydukes, the familiar scent of chocolate and caramel filled the air, and they both gravitated toward the shelves of sweets like little kids. Hermione's eyes lit up as she reached for her favourite Sugar Quills, and she laughed when James piled enough chocolate frogs into his basket to last a lifetime.
By the time they settled into a cosy booth at the Three Broomsticks, they were bundled in scarves and gloves, cheeks flushed from the cold, and noses tinged pink, taking their sweet time to shed all the layers. Rosmerta brought over two steaming mugs of butterbeer, and Hermione wrapped her hands around her mug, relishing the warmth that seeped into her fingers.
James took a long sip, glancing over at her with a smile. "You know, for all our notebook chats, I feel like I've never asked you about the basics."
Hermione looked at him, amused. "Basics?"
"Yeah," he shrugged, a little sheepishly. "Colours, flowers, all that. The sort of thing a proper boyfriend should know."
She laughed softly, the warmth of the butterbeer filling her cheeks as much as the idea of James asking these questions. "Well, if you're so keen on learning the mysteries of my favourite colour, it's purple. Any shade, really, but I especially like the softer, muted tones."
"Like your dress at New Year's?" he asked, his eyes lighting up at the memory.
Hermione's smile softened. "Yes, exactly like that."
"Well," he said, looking rather pleased with himself. "Glad I took mental notes that night."
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't stop grinning. "What else are you so curious about?"
"Flowers?" he asked, leaning in just slightly.
"Lilies," she replied, a little shyly. "But I like all kinds of flowers, really."
He smiled, a bit of mischief glinting in his eyes. "I see what you did there, choosing lilies."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her grin. "It's not some secret message. It's just that lilies always seemed so… graceful. And they smell wonderful."
James leaned forward, elbows on the table, curiosity lighting up his face. "Any other favourites? Food, books…things that make you smile?"
"Books—well, there are too many favourites to list, though anything that has to do with spell theory is up there," she replied thoughtfully, stirring her butterbeer. "As for food, it's hard to say. There's this one dish Molly makes, a sort of spiced roast chicken—it's the best thing I've ever tasted."
He took it all in, nodding as if filing each detail away. "And the things that make you smile?"
She hesitated, a soft smile growing on her face. "I suppose moments like this do."
James's grin grew, and he reached over to take her hand across the table, their fingers intertwining. "So I make you smile, then?"
"You just might," she admitted, blushing. "Sometimes. On good days."
He laughed, and for a moment, he didn't say anything more, just squeezed her hand gently.
"Anything else I should know, Miss Prewett?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes warm.
"Well, I might just be a fan of surprise Hogsmeade invitations on Valentine's Day," she replied with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling as she held his gaze. She watched as his face lit up, his expression a blend of hopefulness and that familiar hint of mischief she'd come to adore.
"Only on Valentine's Day?" he asked, leaning in with a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Alright, maybe other days, too," she admitted, her cheeks warming under his steady gaze. She felt a laugh bubble up as he looked at her with an almost childlike anticipation, like he was waiting for some grand revelation.
"But you can just ask like a normal person," she added, her tone gently teasing. "You know, with your feet on the ground."
James feigned a gasp, dramatically clutching his heart. "Where's the fun in that, Kitten?" He leaned back, arms spread wide. "I'm just giving you the complete James Potter experience. Do you take me for someone who'd ask out a girl in a conventional way?"
"Merlin forbid you do anything conventional," she replied, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't keep the smile from creeping back onto her face. "But yes, I think your feet on the ground might make it easier for my heart to stay at a normal pace."
James chuckled, his eyes warm as he studied her face, a small smirk still tugging at his lips. "Oh, I see how it is. You want me to dial it down to spare your nerves. Got it." He paused for a beat, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "But maybe, just maybe, I could do that."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the playful banter fell away. They were quiet, just looking at each other in the warm light of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione could feel her heart flutter, her cheeks still pink from his gaze and their shared laughter.
"Tell me about yourself," Hermione said.
James's smile softened as he leaned back, swirling his butterbeer thoughtfully. "So… you want to know about James Potter? All the basics?"
"Yeah, favourite colour, food, Quidditch team," she said, the curiosity evident in her voice. "Lay it all on me."
"Well, I suppose I can't resist a question like that," he said, pretending to stretch with a lazy grin. "Let's start easy. Favourite colour: gold. I think that's obvious, though, isn't it?"
"I'd have bet my next Hogsmeade trip on it," Hermione said, laughing. "Gryffindor to the core."
He winked. "Of course. And favourite food…" he leaned in as if revealing a closely guarded secret. "Treacle tart. Nothing else comes close. I don't know how the house elves get it so perfect every time, but that's magic, isn't it?"
"Noted. So if I want you in a good mood, I just need to bribe you with treacle tart," Hermione teased. Now she knew where Harry got it from. "Sounds easy enough."
He chuckled. "Just so you know, you're learning all my weaknesses today. Butterbeer, treacle tart, and Gryffindor gold. They'd have everything they need to defeat me if they knew."
She gave him a mock-serious nod. "Duly noted. But you're not off the hook yet. Favourite Quidditch team?"
James's face lit up at the mention of Quidditch. "The Montrose Magpies," he replied. "They're fantastic—nimble, aggressive, always a thrill to watch. I mean, if I'm not on the field myself, they're the team I want to see."
"Montrose Magpies, eh? I'll remember that." She grinned, finding it endearing to see him light up like this, his passion spilling over with every word.
"So," she began, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she leaned forward, elbows on the table. "We've talked a lot about Quidditch and your… shall we say affinity for mischief. But what about outside all of that? Any hidden hobbies or interests you haven't let on yet, Mr Potter?"
James tilted his head thoughtfully, his grin widening as he caught the teasing lilt in her tone. "Well, I can't say I'm much of a knitter, if that's what you're after," he replied, feigning disappointment.
Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. "I had a feeling. But seriously, there must be something you do that isn't broom-related or getting yourself into trouble."
James's face reddened as he shifted slightly in his seat. He let out a small laugh, glancing away before meeting her gaze again. "Alright, so this is going to sound a bit… cheeky. And I mean, it's quite literally on the nose."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, a curious smile on her face. "Now you have to tell me."
He sighed, a little grin tugging at his lips. "Pottery. Yeah… pottery. My mum picked up this Muggle pottery wheel ages ago. I think she bought it as a joke for my dad—figured he'd never figure it out." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "But when I was little, I started messing around with it, and… I really liked it."
Hermione's face lit up with surprise. "Wait, you? James Potter, secretly a master potter?"
He chuckled, clearly embarrassed but unable to stop the grin. "I don't know about 'master.' But, yeah, I've made a few things over the years. There's this mug I made when I was eight. It's all wobbly and lopsided, but my mum still insists on drinking her morning tea from it."
"That's… honestly adorable, James," Hermione said, her smile softening as she looked at him with newfound admiration.
He ducked his head, looking both flattered and shy. "Thanks. I guess it's just something I've always liked, you know? Being able to make something with my hands. I can't do it often—between school and Quidditch and everything—but it's relaxing."
"Do you think you'll make something new soon?" she asked, her curiosity genuine.
He shrugged, a bit more confident now. "Maybe. Could be fun to give it another go. Haven't made a real pot or mug in ages."
Hermione's gaze softened. "I'd love to see one of your creations someday."
He looked at her with a shy grin, and their eyes met, the moment lingering with something unspoken between them. "Maybe I'll make something for you," he murmured, almost to himself.
Hermione's cheeks warmed, but she didn't look away, her eyes twinkling. A beat later, James cleared his throat, shifting to cover his momentary lapse into vulnerability.
"Alright, your turn. Any hidden talents besides practically inhaling books?" he asked, a playful gleam in his eyes.
Hermione hesitated, still getting used to the intricacies of her cover story. But now that she had the adoption angle to work with, she could share some snippets of her past life without raising too much suspicion. "Well, I used to compete in ballet—before, you know… everything changed," she said, giving him a small, almost shy smile.
James's eyes lit up, thoroughly intrigued. "You did ballet?"
"Mm-hm," she nodded. "For years. It was my life back then, you know besides books. I loved it. Sometimes I still miss it," she admitted, a flicker of nostalgia in her eyes.
"And here I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore," he teased, clearly impressed. "So is that how you can just sit still for hours reading and not fidget even once? All those years of perfecting control?"
She laughed. "Possibly. And, well… I also speak almost fluently in French."
James's face brightened, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, Sirius is going to love that."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How come?"
"Oh, right—you probably don't know." James leaned forward, clearly enjoying the chance to share something she didn't already know about her friends. "The Blacks are originally French. Their house words are still in French—'Toujours pur.' Always pure." He rolled his eyes slightly at the motto, clearly unimpressed by its elitist undertone. "They're taught French from a young age, so if you ever felt like it, I'm sure Sirius would begrudgingly indulge you in some French conversation."
"'Begrudgingly,'" she repeated with a smirk.
"Oh, absolutely. He'll pretend it's beneath him, then end up being annoyingly fluent," James chuckled. "Honestly, he'll probably love having someone around who speaks it without the whole 'pureblood superiority' nonsense."
She laughed at that, imagining Sirius's faux-disdainful expression if she started a conversation in French. "Maybe I'll just test that out sometime," she said, a playful glint in her eye. "Though I might wait until he's actually in a good mood."
"That might be wise," James said, a grin tugging at his lips. "But seriously, you've just gained a trump card. And I bet he'll end up showing off a bit—he can't resist."
She chuckled, filing the idea away, feeling oddly pleased at the thought.
They were quiet for a while, James tracing idle patterns in the condensation on his butterbeer mug before he finally looked up, his expression soft and careful.
"Do you… uhm… and you don't have to answer if you don't want to…" he hesitated, his voice dropping low to make sure no one else could hear. "But do you miss your Muggle parents?"
Hermione's breath caught for a moment. She felt the pull of two conflicting truths, each as real as the other. The answer was both yes and no, but explaining it felt impossible. She'd loved her parents dearly; there was no question of that. And yet, as she got older, the distance between her magical world and their mundane one had grown more unbridgeable. They tried to support her, they really had, but they'd always struggled to understand.
Instead of speaking right away, she took a long sip of her butterbeer, letting the warmth settle her thoughts. She couldn't tell James everything—not that she'd even know where to start with the truth. The Prewetts had supposedly taken her in before she was even of Hogwarts age, meaning her Muggle life conflicting with the wizarding world wasn't meant to be a significant part of her story here. But part of her was grateful he'd asked, even if it stirred up something difficult inside her.
"Yes… and no," she said carefully. "I miss them, of course. But we were… growing apart, even before all of this." She gestured around as if the walls of the Three Broomsticks could somehow contain the enormity of the magical world and all that had come with it. "There were just too many things they didn't, couldn't understand about me."
James nodded, looking at her with a softness that somehow made it easier. "It must've been hard. Leaving, I mean."
"It was," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper.
A moment passed, the silence between them gentle. "You're close with the Weasleys now, though," he said. "That has to help a bit, right?"
She nodded, her heart warming at the thought of Molly and Arthur, of Bill and Charlie's wide-eyed fascination with everything magical she could share with them. "Yeah, it helps a lot, actually. They're… wonderful." A fond smile crept onto her face. "Even if Molly is almost as strict as McGonagall when it comes to keeping everyone in line."
James laughed at that. "She's a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure. But I get it… I mean, you deserve a place to be yourself, not having to hide."
Hermione met his eyes, and there was something deeply comforting in his gaze—understanding, even if he'd never quite know the full story. "Thank you for asking, James. Really."
"Anytime," he replied softly, reaching across the table to take her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Do you have siblings?" James asked, his voice casual as he sipped his butterbeer but with a hint of curiosity as his gaze settled on her.
Hermione shook her head. "No, only child. Same as you. I barely know my adoptive brother, and little Bill and Charlie honestly feel closer to nephews than siblings."
James nodded, and for a moment, his expression grew wistful. "Do you wish you had? I came very late for my parents, so there was practically no chance of getting a younger sibling, though I now have Sirius, I suppose."
"I think my parents stopped trying to have more kids the moment I showed accidental magic." Hermione gave a small laugh, the sound tinged with both humour and something sadder. "I think the stuff they couldn't explain freaked them out. It would have been nice, though. I was a very lonely kid growing up—bookish know-it-all, a bit of a teacher's pet, but also… well, weird."
James's face softened as he listened, his gaze warm and intent as Hermione spoke. "Lonely, huh?" he said, almost to himself. "It's hard to imagine you that way now—Miss Popular here in Gryffindor, dating the star Quidditch player, having every Marauder wrapped around your fingers."
Hermione gave a small laugh, her eyes drifting to her hands. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly winning any popularity contests back then. It's easy to feel out of place when you're the kid who's always raising her hand, who reads through the library in one term, and who... well, occasionally does things that can't really be explained."
James tilted his head, his smile gentle but curious. "You mean magic?"
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Things would just... happen. Like books floating down from the top shelf or toys fixing themselves if they broke. Little things, but... you'd be surprised how much that unsettled people when they couldn't find a reason for it. It felt like I had this whole part of myself I couldn't talk about. I just... I thought it made me strange. Actually ballet was Mum's way of trying to teach me to control myself. Funnily enough the accidental magic did taper off the more I went to practice and later competitions."
She looked away, her voice trailing off, but James reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "Well, for what it's worth, I think your strangeness is your best quality."
She looked up, meeting his steady gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making her heart skip. "Thanks, James. That... means a lot. More than you know."
He grinned, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Look, I get what you mean about feeling like an outsider. I mean, yeah, I grew up with magic, but I was always just... different. A bit too loud, a bit too confident—never quite the perfect, well-mannered Pureblood heir, you know? Mum and Dad didn't care, but it meant socialising with kids around my age in 'our circles' was a challenge."
Hermione chuckled. "I can't imagine you as anything but yourself. But you're right; you're not exactly subtle, James Potter."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Guess that's my curse. But you... you're brilliant. Weird, sure, but the kind of weird that makes life more interesting."
They shared a quiet smile, the connection between them deepening with each word, each admission. It was a feeling of being truly seen—something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
"Do you ever feel like you missed out, though?" James asked, his voice softer. "You know, not having siblings?"
Hermione thought for a moment, letting his question settle in. "I think... yes, sometimes. I would've liked to have someone to share things with, you know? Someone to lean on when things got hard or to share silly little jokes with. That's why... I'm grateful for Remus, and now, well... you."
He looked at her, his face lighting up with that familiar mischievous glint. "You're stuck with me now, Kitten. Weird, loud, and all."
She laughed, the warmth spreading through her as she held onto his hand a little tighter. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Their food finally arrived—piping hot fish and chips served with a side of tartar sauce and a sprinkle of vinegar. Hermione's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and for a while, they both fell silent, the twenty questions game momentarily forgotten as they dug into their meals. The warm, flaky fish melted in her mouth, and she couldn't help but smile as she glanced over at James, who seemed equally absorbed in his food.
After a few bites, James glanced up with a satisfied sigh. "This place never disappoints."
Hermione nodded, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Agreed. There's nothing like fish and chips in the winter."
When their plates were nearly empty, James leaned back, looking at her with that easy, almost boyish grin. "So... want to stay a bit longer or shall we head out?"
She thought for a moment, feeling the warmth and comfort of the pub surrounding them, but she knew he'd been indulging her the entire day. "I think it's high time we did something that's for you and not me," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's head to Zonko's."
James's face lit up with boyish excitement. He quickly settled the bill, practically bouncing to his feet, then reached out for her hand. She laughed, feeling like a kid again herself as he tugged her out of the Three Broomsticks and into the brisk winter air.
They walked down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, hand in hand, weaving through the Saturday crowds. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, landing softly on Hermione's hair, and she could see James sneaking glances at her, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
When they reached Zonko's, the shop was buzzing with Hogwarts students picking up joke items and prank supplies. James held the door open for her, his face beaming with anticipation. "Welcome to the land of mischief!"
Hermione laughed as they stepped inside, the warm, slightly chaotic atmosphere enveloping them. The shelves were lined with everything from joke wands to Stink Pellets, Exploding Snap packs, and various other prank items she didn't even recognise.
James was like a kid in a candy store, his eyes darting from shelf to shelf. He kept picking up items, showing them to her with a gleeful look in his eyes. "Look at this one, Kitten—Fanged Frisbees! Imagine the mayhem we could cause with these in the common room."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "I think the last thing Gryffindor needs is another flying menace, James."
"Oh, c'mon," he said, grinning, "they'd just add to the atmosphere."
They wandered through the aisles, with James tossing an assortment of items into his basket, while Hermione watched with an amused smile. As they turned a corner, he pulled out a small, vibrantly coloured box. "Ever heard of Nose-Biting Teacups?"
Hermione's eyes widened as she laughed. "Those are real? I thought they were just an urban legend!"
"Absolutely real," James said, his face lighting up. "Perfect for pranking unsuspecting Slytherins. Though, maybe I'll save them for Sirius."
The afternoon drifted by in a flurry of laughter and jokes, with James narrating elaborate prank ideas for each item he picked up. Hermione found herself caught up in his enthusiasm, imagining the Marauders' antics come to life.
When they finally made it to the register, James dropped an armful of items onto the counter. The clerk raised an eyebrow, clearly familiar with James's antics, and gave Hermione a small, knowing smile.
As they exited Zonko's, James turned to her, a spark of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Hermione. I know you're not exactly the prankster type, but this… this was brilliant."
She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms with an indignant look. "Hey, I resent that. Have you already forgotten the Hokey Pokey incident from fourth year? Who gave you the idea?"
James's grin widened, his laughter bubbling up. "How could I forget? The Slytherin's faces when their bags kept singing that song whenever they opened them—absolutely priceless!"
"And need I remind you," she continued, playfully swatting his arm, "about the fact that I brewed an incredibly illegal potion for your mischief-making last year?"
James winced, but his grin only grew as he chuckled. "Alright, fair. That Polyjuice scheme was… inspired."
Hermione folded her arms, giving him a look that was both amused and challenging. "And let's not forget that I became an… you know… along with you lot." She lowered her voice, giving a subtle but meaningful look, mindful of the group of passing third years.
James's expression softened, admiration evident in his eyes. "That's true. You really did surprise us with that one, Kitten. But you know I meant more along the lines of these practical jokes. You never partake in those."
"Alright, that's fair," she conceded.
He looked at her, an almost boyish excitement lighting up his face. "You know, I think you might have just given me an idea."
"Oh, no," Hermione groaned, half-laughing, half-nervous. "What did I do?"
James's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Well, I was thinking. We've got these Nose-Biting Teacups and some very curious Fanged Frisbees. Wouldn't it be brilliant if we—"
"James Potter," she interrupted, feigning shock, "are you suggesting I stoop to your level of pranking? You might be rubbing off on me, but I'm not that far gone."
"Yet," he said, smirking, as he tugged her hand and started walking again. "Give it time. You've been a Marauder for a while now; it's only a matter of time before we corrupt you completely."
"Oh, Merlin save me," Hermione muttered, laughing despite herself. "Can we stop by Scrivenshaft's? I need some new quills."
"Sure, anything you want. My treat," James replied with a grin.
"Oh, no, no, James Potter, I'm paying this time," she shot back, flashing him a playful, stubborn smile.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Such a modern witch. Takes some getting used to, but I can't say that I don't like it."
She bit back a laugh, thinking, If only he knew just how modern I am.
"You have no idea," she muttered under her breath, a touch of humour masking the tension that bubbled up inside her. At this point, the idea of ever telling him—telling any of them—about the truth of her timeline seemed impossible, like a door she'd locked and thrown away the key for good measure. It wasn't just the fear of disbelief; it was the dread of how much everything could change, how much it should change. But with each passing day, keeping that secret gnawed at her more and more.
James must have sensed something shift because he gave her hand a light squeeze. "You got really quiet. Everything alright?"
She blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts with a smile she hoped was more reassuring than forced. "Yeah, just…thinking." Her gaze drifted over the small shops along the street, then her eyes sparkled with an idea. "Actually, I was just wondering if I should swap out Sirius's ink pots with hot magenta coloured ink. You know, just to prove to you that I'm actually a Marauder."
James's laughter echoed down the lane. "I would pay to see his face if you did that."
Hermione smiled, slipping into the shop with him, thinking of all the times she had to carefully sidestep the truth with a joke or a distraction. It had become almost second nature. She hated lying to him, to all of them, but as long as she could keep them safe, wasn't it worth it?
Inside Scrivenshaft's, the familiar scent of parchment and ink settled her nerves a bit. James wandered down one of the aisles, pretending to compare quills but throwing her amused glances every few seconds. She picked up a couple of quills, turning them in her hand, trying to make her choice.
"Here," James said, suddenly leaning over her shoulder, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, "get the nice ones. Remember, I offered to pay."
"Ha! As if," she shot back, bumping his arm as she scooped up the quills and made her way to the counter.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of the ink section. She grabbed a hot magenta ink pot, feeling a sudden spark of mischief to actually follow through on that idea, then picked up a deep purple one, handing it over with a look that was both teasing and a little shy. "And this one's for you. Just in case you feel like writing me love letters, you know, in style."
James blinked, caught off guard, and then his face split into a slow, delighted grin. "Only the finest for my esteemed correspondent," he replied, voice softening as he took the ink pot from her hand. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the lively bustle of Scrivenshaft's faded into the background.
The shopkeeper cleared her throat, breaking the moment as she handed Hermione her change with a knowing smile.
"Thanks," Hermione murmured, cheeks flushing slightly as she took her bag, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious under James's gaze.
As they stepped outside, Hermione made a point of pulling her scarf tighter against the biting winter air.
"Do you think we should head back?" Hermione asked, glancing up at the snowy path leading to Hogwarts. "I'm kind of worried about Remus."
James laughed softly, shaking his head. "Had it been any other bloke, I'd probably be extremely jealous that you're thinking about them on our date." He squeezed her hand, his tone turning more serious. "But yeah, you're right. We should probably head back."
As they turned and began walking up the path toward the castle, James kept his hand in hers, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles against her knuckles. It was small gestures like these, his subtle attentiveness, that often caught Hermione off guard. It was as if he'd softened since they'd started seeing each other, his boldness tempered by an almost shy affection.
"He's probably fine, you know," James added as they neared the castle gates, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance. "He told us he'd be taking it easy today, resting up."
Hermione nodded, but the worry didn't fully leave her. "I know, but… It's the day before the full moon. He must feel off. And with us out here, I just—" She let out a small sigh, brushing a hand over her arm as if she could ease her own worry.
James smiled at her, an understanding warmth in his eyes. "Hey, that's why he's lucky to have you. Moony always pretends he can handle it all on his own, but I don't think he knows how much better he's got it with you around." He gave her hand another squeeze. "And besides, if I were feeling as miserable as he probably does today, I'd want my best friend to come back and make a fuss over me, too."
Hermione blushed, her heart swelling a little. They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the castle looming closer, snowflakes drifting down lazily around them. Inside the warmth of the castle, they untangled their scarves and dusted off the last traces of snow from their coats, sharing a look that lingered longer than it probably should have.
"Thanks for today," Hermione said softly, pulling her hand free, though not without a touch of reluctance. "It was… perfect."
James smiled, a warmth in his eyes as he reached up, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear. "Anytime."
As they stepped into the boys' dormitory, Hermione and James both froze in the doorway, momentarily stunned. There, on Remus's bed, curled together amidst a pile of books and crumpled notes, were Remus and Sirius, completely absorbed in a kiss. It was so intimate and soft that it made Hermione feel like she was intruding on a moment that wasn't meant to be witnessed.
James cleared his throat, half amused, half dumbfounded. "Well, I'll be…"
Remus and Sirius broke apart instantly, both snapping their heads toward the door. Remus's face flushed a deep red, and he looked like he might spontaneously combust on the spot. Sirius, on the other hand, had the audacity to look completely unbothered, even flashing a cheeky grin as he leaned back on his hands.
"Oh, hello there," Sirius drawled, his voice light and easy. "You are back early."
James raised an eyebrow, trying to smother a grin. "Didn't know you two were… uh… making use of the room like this."
Hermione quickly pulled herself together, a small smile growing on her face. She could see Remus's embarrassment radiating off him, and for once, Sirius's playful attitude seemed like a blessing, deflecting some of the tension from the room.
"About time," she said, her smile widening.
James gawked, turning to her in surprise. "Wait—you knew about this?"
Hermione shrugged, glancing at Remus with a soft, understanding smile. "Yeah… Remus told me ages ago that he fancied Sirius, though he thought you—" she glanced at Sirius, "—were only into girls and just flirted with him for fun. So, I'd say it's high time you pulled your head out of your arse, Black."
Sirius grinned, utterly unbothered by the remark. "Hey, I flirt with everything that breathes—it's true. But it just so happens that I flirted with Moony for other reasons." He nudged Remus gently, trying to ease his obvious embarrassment.
Remus rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly flustered but unable to hide his smile. "I… well, I wasn't exactly expecting this."
James chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched the exchange. "So, all those 'study sessions' you told us about, Moony…?"
"Those were actual study sessions, thank you very much," Remus replied with a half-hearted glare. "And it's not like I thought anything would ever happen with Sirius."
Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus, grinning. "Well, you thought wrong, Moony."
Hermione watched them with a warmth in her eyes, feeling her heart swell a little. She knew how much this meant to Remus—how he'd kept this part of himself hidden, afraid it might only lead to more hurt. But here he was, beaming beside Sirius, who looked like he'd never been happier.
"Well," James announced, looking between Hermione and the other two. "If this isn't the best plot twist of the year, I don't know what is."
With that, James wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and steered her toward the door. "Alright, let's give them some time before we start asking embarrassing questions."
She shot a last encouraging smile over her shoulder at Remus, who looked back at her with equal gratitude.
Once down in the common room, James mumbled to himself. "How did I not see that coming?"
Hermione stifled a laugh as she and James settled down in the common room, finding a quieter corner by the fire. She shot him an amused look, crossing her arms. "Really, James? You're usually so quick on the uptake with everyone's love lives."
James ran a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly baffled. "I know! I mean, I saw the looks, sure, but it's Sirius. I didn't think he'd ever, you know… settle on someone."
Hermione leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I think it's less about 'settling' and more about... well, Remus. They've been dancing around each other for years, James. And Remus was convinced Sirius wasn't interested in him like that."
James shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Merlin, we really are hopeless sometimes. If only he'd talked to me—maybe I could have sped this along a bit."
She gave him a knowing look. "Oh, yes, because your track record with subtlety is world-renowned. I can just picture it: 'Hey, Padfoot, fancy Moony a bit?'"
He snickered, hands held up in mock surrender. "Point taken. Though, to be fair, maybe this whole mystery is part of why it happened. No one could've pushed Sirius into this decision. It had to come from him."
They shared a warm silence, the crackling of the fire adding a cosy undertone to their thoughts.
"Still," Hermione murmured, "I think Remus needed to see that he was worth taking a risk for. I've never seen him look so… happy."
James looked at her, his expression softening. "You're good for him, you know. For all of us, actually." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he glanced toward the boys' staircase. "Alright, if they come down looking like lovesick fools, I'm not even going to tease them."
Hermione laughed. "Oh, please. We'll see how long you last."
They gazed into each other's eyes as the noise of the common room around them dimmed, their laughter fading to a quiet, unspoken connection. Hermione reached up, her hand lingering on his arm, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Kiss me?"
"With pleasure," James said, his grin fading into something softer as he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was full of warmth, a promise between them.
Just then, the sound of the portrait hole creaking open snapped them out of the moment. They broke apart to see Peter entering the common room, a look of mild disgust on his face. "Ugh, get a room, you two."
"Occupied," James said, flashing a grin.
"What?"
"Yeah," James replied, clearly relishing the shock on Peter's face, "I wouldn't go up there right now, unless you want to see Padfoot devouring Moony."
Peter squeaked, his face twisting in horror. Without another word, he turned and fled, disappearing back out the portrait hole. As the sound of his footsteps faded, Hermione shook her head, looking at James with mild exasperation.
"I wish you had let Remus and Sirius tell him the news," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and reprimand.
"Come on," James replied, shrugging. "It's not like they can stay in the closet about this. We all share a room."
"Still," she muttered, though she couldn't help the slight knitting of her brows. Hopefully this wasn't information that Peter could twist somehow.
They sat in a comfortable silence, but then James shifted, a thoughtful frown replacing his usual easygoing expression. "Hermione," he began, his voice quieter, "don't take this the wrong way, but what's going on? You were furious at Sirius after…you know, the prank. It honestly felt like it was about more than just that. Then we become Animagi, you take one look at Wormtail and Padfoot, have what I can only call a nervous breakdown, and suddenly you're not angry at Sirius anymore—but you're super cautious around Peter." He gave her an inquisitive look, searching her face. "I don't get it."
She felt a pang of worry but masked it with a thoughtful look, as if trying to find the right words. "Animagus forms do have meaning, you know that, right?" she asked carefully.
James tilted his head. "Yes, but let's be honest, in many cases, they're pretty vague. Depending on cultural context, you can interpret them in all sorts of ways."
She looked at him, a bit surprised at his insight. "I didn't realise you'd looked into it that much."
"Don't look at me like that," he said, sounding slightly affronted. "I did my research on this. Extensively. Even before you were pulled into the plot."
She let out a small laugh. "Well, you are the transfiguration prodigy of our year."
James's chest puffed out slightly with pride. But he quickly sobered, his brows furrowing. "So…what are you worried about? Peter's form is a rat, which…yeah, alright, it's not the most impressive. But that doesn't mean he'd actually rat anyone out. He's been loyal for years. If he was going to spill the beans, he would've done it ages ago when he got caught alone for some prank we pulled."
Hermione felt her throat tighten. It was true; Peter had proven himself many times over. And yet…
"You know, in Chinese culture, the rat symbolises wisdom, wealth, and prosperity," James continued, trying to keep his tone hopeful. "It's not all…bad."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her scepticism obvious. "And that sounds like Peter to you?"
James sighed. "About as much as all the other connotations, I guess: death, corruption, evil, disease, gluttony, greed, infestation, fear, darkness, torture, filth, pollution…"
She blinked, surprised. "You really went all in on this research, specifically on him, why?"
"Because of your reaction!" he burst out, frustration evident in his voice. "It's been eating me up all month, Hermione! You saw his form, and then you started acting weird around him. How was I not supposed to worry about it?"
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm saying it now!" he retorted, leaning back with his hands raised. "You've been holding something back for ages. And I'm not sure if it's about me, or Peter, or what, but it's driving me insane."
Hermione took a deep breath, searching for something, anything, that might reassure him without giving too much away. She finally managed, "I'm sorry. I can't really explain it. It's just…a gut feeling."
James's face softened, but she could still see the hurt lingering in his eyes. "You know, I thought you'd be the last person to be prone to prejudice," he said quietly. "But…I guess I was wrong."
His words hit her like a slap, the sting of them sharper than she'd expected. She opened her mouth to respond, to explain, to defend herself, but nothing came out. Because what could she say? To him, it did look like an unfair judgement, maybe even a betrayal of their values. But to her, the knowledge of Peter's ultimate betrayal was all too real.
The warmth between them dissipated in an instant. Hermione watched James's retreating back, feeling the weight of his last words settle heavily in her chest. She hadn't meant to make her feelings about Peter so obvious.
She clenched her hands in her lap, her gaze dropping as she wrestled with herself. How could she explain the feeling without revealing what she knew? The knowledge of what Peter would eventually do to James—to all of them—was so vivid in her mind, and her fear, her instinctive distrust of Peter, felt justified. But there was no way to communicate any of that without revealing her time-travel secret, a risk she didn't think she could take.
James had paused by the staircase, and she felt his gaze on her again, this time with a mixture of confusion and lingering frustration. She swallowed, feeling her heart race as he approached, seeming to decide that leaving things unresolved wasn't his style.
"Hermione," he said, his voice softer now, though the hurt was still there, "I don't understand what's going on, but if there's something…anything…you're worried about, just tell me. This distance isn't like you."
Her gaze met his, eyes bright with unspoken tension, her mind racing to find the right words. "James, it's not prejudice, I promise. It's…it's complicated, alright? There are things I know—things I think I know—that make it hard to…to trust." She took a shaky breath, her hand reaching for his almost instinctively. "But I'm not saying he's a bad person. I just…have a hard time ignoring instincts."
James's face softened further as he took her hand, but she could still see the conflict behind his hazel eyes. "I believe you," he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze. "But I'm not going to sit around while you keep looking at one of our friends like he's our enemy, Hermione. It just doesn't feel right."
Hermione closed her eyes, feeling a pang of guilt. "I get that, and I… I wish I could explain more. But some things are better left unsaid."
They stood in silence, the sounds of the common room filtering back in around them as they lingered there, each caught in their own thoughts. She wanted to reach out, to tell him everything, but the weight of the future held her back. The promise she'd made to herself, to protect him at any cost, made her resolve harden, even if it meant keeping this distance between them.
Finally, she forced a small smile and squeezed his hand. "Maybe I'm overthinking things. I'll try to be better about it, for you."
He smiled then, a hesitant but hopeful smile. "Alright, deal," he said, and he pulled her in for a quick kiss, though his heart was not quite in it, not like before this conversation. "Just…try to remember he's our friend. He's been there for all of us in his own way, alright?"
Hermione nodded, biting her lip as he gave her one last, lingering look before he headed off to rejoin the others, leaving her standing there, her heart heavier than it had been before.