November 3rd arrived with the crisp chill of early winter, the air in the castle thick with the anticipation of Sirius's seventeenth birthday. Though everyone was also utterly confused as there were no whispers of the customary party that the Marauders usually threw for him.

Fortunately, the boys had managed to keep their plans under wraps, sneaking out that evening with Sirius practically buzzing with excitement. They snuck through the quiet corridors, their usual formation under the Cloak not working either way with Remus in the mix, laughter bubbling up as they reached the statue of the one-eyed witch. Sirius was practically bouncing, his eyes alive with excitement.

"All right, move over, Moony, I've got this one," he whispered, tapping the statue with his wand and muttering the password. The passageway creaked open, revealing the dark tunnel stretching to Honeydukes.

"After you, birthday boy," James said with a grin, nudging him forward.

Sirius didn't need any more encouragement. They ducked into the passageway, laughter echoing softly around them as they stumbled through the tunnel. Peter was huffing by the time they reached Honeydukes' cellar, and he gave a nervous glance at the stairs.

"Relax, Pete," Hermione whispered reassuringly, giving him a pat on the back. "We'll be fine as long as we're quiet."

"Quiet's not exactly our style," Peter muttered, casting a wary look at Sirius, who flashed him a mischievous grin.

"Best birthday gift ever, lads," Sirius whispered, taking a swig of the Firewhiskey they had brought along for the ride.

James threw an arm over his shoulder, grinning as he guided him toward the cellar exit. "Only the finest illegal escapades for our Padfoot."

They slipped out of Honeydukes and made their way through the deserted streets of Hogsmeade, sticking to the shadows until they reached the welcoming lights of the Three Broomsticks.

"You lot better not get too rowdy," Hermione said, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her excitement. "We don't want to draw attention."

"Kitten, I am the picture of subtlety," Sirius replied, straightening his collar with an exaggerated flourish as they entered the pub.

James snorted. "You're as subtle as a Bludger to the face."

Once inside, they took turns Flooing from the fireplace at the back of the pub, finally stumbling into the bustling, dimly lit warmth of the Leaky Cauldron. It was a strange sight to see Diagon Alley so late at night, quieter than usual but still brimming with possibilities. They made their way through the alley, the cobblestones slick underfoot, until they reached the tattoo parlour tucked down one of the quieter side streets, its wooden sign swinging above the door.

The inside was dim and cosy, with an eclectic mix of runes and designs decorating the walls. The wizard behind the counter looked up, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of a group of teenagers creeping in.

"Bit late for a stroll, isn't it?" he asked, sizing them up.

Sirius stepped forward with his usual confidence, flashing a grin. "It's my seventeenth birthday. And I need something to commemorate it."

The tattoo artist shrugged, looking somewhat amused. "Alright then, lad. What's it going to be?"

James gave him a hearty clap on the back. "Another tattoo for every prank you've ever pulled?"

Sirius laughed. "As much as I'd love that, Prongs, I'm going for something a bit more… meaningful." He pulled down the collar of his shirt, exposing the faint scars on his shoulder. "Something to cover this up."

Remus's expression softened, his voice low. "Sirius, you don't have to cover it because of me—"

"It's not about covering it," Sirius interrupted, his voice softer, more serious. "It's about… I dunno. Marking it on my own terms." He turned back to the artist, his eyes glinting with determination. "Runes," he said, his voice steady. "Gar, the symbol for always returning."

The tattoo artist nodded in understanding. "Good choice. That'll sit well over scar tissue. This rune's been used for everything from protection to companionship. You sure?"

Sirius nodded. "Positive."

As the artist prepared his equipment, the others settled in around Sirius, leaning in to watch as he started the work. Hermione squeezed his hand briefly before letting go, smiling. "It's a good choice, Sirius. It really suits you."

"Think so?" Sirius said, wincing slightly as the needle touched his skin. "I don't know… I'm just glad it has nothing to do with our family rings or crest. Merlin, those were awful to have on everything I owned as a kid."

James laughed, giving him a pat on the knee. "Thank goodness. The Black family rings could blind half the castle on a sunny day."

Sirius chuckled, the banter helping to distract him from the needle's sting. "And the crests. Why did they have to make them so… huge?"

"Making up for something, I reckon," Peter muttered with a grin.

Remus snorted, his voice full of warmth. "I think you're upgrading from all that nonsense quite nicely."

The artist continued his work in silence, and soon enough, the rune began to take shape, the intricate lines blending perfectly with the faint scars beneath it. The Gar symbol glowed faintly as the ink settled, its ancient magic woven into Sirius's skin. He twisted his neck to get a look, grinning in satisfaction.

"Looks bloody brilliant," James declared, reaching over to clap him on the back.

Sirius looked at Remus, his grin softening to something warmer, more private. "What do you think, Moony?"

Remus met his gaze, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "It's perfect, Sirius. Couldn't have chosen better."

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly, but there was a smile playing on her lips as well. "Alright, don't get too sappy now, boys. We've got a common room to get back to before anyone catches on."

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley glowed faintly under the flickering lanterns as Sirius rolled up his sleeve yet again to admire the fresh ink on his shoulder. "It's bloody brilliant, isn't it?" he said, turning to James, his grin wide and unrestrained.

James shook his head, laughing. "You've only looked at it about a hundred times, Padfoot. Maybe get a mirror for the other shoulder so you can check it while you walk."

Sirius smirked, mock-punching James in the arm. "Jealous, Prongs? You should be. It's not every day you witness pure artistry." He paused, then added with a playful wink, "Besides, I think the runes make me look even more dashing."

"You think everything makes you look more dashing," Hermione quipped, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her cloak against the chill.

Remus chuckled, walking beside her. "Give it a week, Hermione. He'll start calling it 'the legendary tattoo' like it's some grand story passed down through the ages."

"Oi! Don't ruin my fun before I've even started!" Sirius shot back, but his laughter gave him away.

Peter, trailing a little behind the group, gave a snort. "You're just lucky you didn't pass out halfway through. I thought you were going to flinch when the needle started buzzing."

"Flinch?" Sirius barked a laugh. "Wormy, I'm not you. I've got nerves of steel."

"More like you've got Firewhiskey for nerves," Hermione said, shooting him a pointed look as Sirius raised the bottle in salute.

"Speaking of which..." Sirius twirled his wand between his fingers before pointing it skyward. With a flick, a cascade of sparkling silver and gold bursts erupted above their heads, fizzling into the shape of a roaring wolf before dissolving into glittery motes of light.

"Subtle," Remus said dryly, though there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Because nothing says 'celebratory but inconspicuous' like magical fireworks in the middle of the night."

"Exactly!" Sirius crowed, throwing an arm around Remus's shoulders. "You get it, Moony."

James nudged Hermione, a mischievous grin on his face. "Reckon we let him have this one, or do we remind him that we're still technically trying not to attract attention?"

Hermione sighed but couldn't hide her amusement. "What's the point? If we're being arrested for noise complaints, it'll probably be worth it just to see the look on Sirius's face."

Sirius turned to them with an exaggerated gasp. "Arrested? Please. Who wouldn't want to celebrate my greatness? Besides—" He flicked his wand again, sending up a burst of fiery red sparks that rained down like starlight. "It's not a real celebration until the Ministry starts getting twitchy."

As if on cue, a distant voice shouted, "Oi! What's all this, then?"

"Merlin's beard, Padfoot," James muttered, eyes widening as he caught sight of two shadowy figures advancing from the far end of the alley. "I think that's our cue."

"Run!" Sirius hollered, laughing as he grabbed Remus's hand and sprinted toward the Leaky Cauldron. The group burst into a chaotic dash, Hermione clutching her cloak tightly while Peter struggled to keep up, panting as he brought up the rear.

They tumbled into the Leaky Cauldron in fits of laughter, their faces flushed and their breath visible in the cold air. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow as Sirius skidded to a stop, still clutching the now nearly empty Firewhiskey bottle.

"Sorry!" Hermione called over her shoulder as they darted toward the fireplace. "Just… celebrating a birthday!"

James was already grabbing the Floo powder, tossing it into the flames with a grin. "The Three Broomsticks!" he called, disappearing into the green swirl. One by one, they followed, Sirius the last to go, tossing one final glittery spark into the air before vanishing.

Back at the Three Broomsticks, they tumbled out of the Floo in a clumsy heap, Sirius still clutching the nearly empty Firewhiskey bottle. Madam Rosmerta gave them a pointed look, her hands on her hips.

"You lot better not bring any trouble back here," she said, though there was a trace of amusement in her voice. "I've got enough to deal with tonight without Aurors stomping in."

"Trouble? Us?" Sirius said, flashing her his most charming grin as he steadied himself. "Perish the thought, Rosie."

Rosmerta rolled her eyes, though she smirked. "Out the back with you, then. I don't want to know how you're sneaking back to that castle of yours."

"Thank you, Madam Rosmerta!" Hermione called, tugging James by the arm as they all hurried toward the rear exit.

The cold night air hit them as they made their way through the shadowy alley and across the snow-dusted streets of Hogsmeade. They approached the Honeydukes cellar with the sort of practised stealth that only came from repeated excursions into trouble. Sirius led the way, clearly still riding the high of the evening.

As they slipped into the secret tunnel beneath Honeydukes, James lit the tip of his wand, the glow illuminating the narrow passage. Sirius glanced back over his shoulder, still grinning. "Admit it, that was brilliant. Fireworks, Aurors, tattoos—this'll go down in Marauder history."

"More like Marauder infamy," Hermione said, though her tone was light. She swatted his arm as they continued down the tunnel. "And if we get caught sneaking back in, I'm blaming you."

Sirius feigned offence. "Me? Kitten, you wound me. I've been nothing but a model of discretion."

Remus snorted, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "That's the word I'd use, sure."

They emerged from the one-eyed witch statue, brushing off snowflakes and ash. One by one, they climbed the steps and slipped back into the main corridors of Hogwarts. By the time they reached the Gryffindor common room, they were exhausted but grinning, adrenaline still buzzing in their veins.

"That," Sirius declared as he threw himself onto the couch, "was the perfect end to the perfect night."

James shook his head, flopping down beside him. "Perfect except for almost getting caught by Aurors."

"Details," Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. "The important part is, I've got this." He gestured dramatically to his shoulder, the runes faintly visible beneath his shirt, gleaming like a badge of honour.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. "You're incorrigible."

Sirius winked. "And proud of it."

Peter gave a sleepy yawn, glancing over at Sirius. "Happy birthday, Pads. Glad you got something that's… well, yours."

Sirius glanced around at his friends, his smile fading into something softer, almost grateful. "Thanks, you lot. For everything." He looked down at the tattoo on his shoulder, the rune symbol glowing faintly in the dim firelight. "To never miss… and always return. It's all I could ever ask for."

And as they settled into the quiet of the common room, the bond between them felt stronger than ever, woven as firmly as the ink that marked Sirius's skin, a promise to always return—together, no matter what.

The morning after the November full moon was particularly rough. The Marauders lay scattered across the worn floor of the Shrieking Shack, each of them nursing various bruises and aches from the night's transformations. Sunlight filtered through the boarded-up windows, casting a muted glow over the scene.

Sirius winced as he pushed himself up, a deep scowl settling on his face as he reached back gingerly, fingers brushing a fresh, painful bite mark on his backside. "Merlin's bloody beard," he muttered. "That's the last time I take on teddy bear duty. Moony, if you wanted a piece of this arse, he could've just said so."

Remus, propped up against the wall and looking groggy but sheepishly amused, gave Sirius a weak smirk. "I think Moony was offended, actually. It's like he took the teddy bear as a personal insult, and took it out on you."

"Oh, I'd say he was offended all right," James said, wincing as he stretched his arms, still sore from the night's chaos. He pointedly glanced at Sirius. "Your poor arse is evidence enough."

Peter stifled a laugh, though he couldn't quite hide the grin on his face. "I'd never thought I'd see the day when Sirius Black was taken down by his own… erm… assets."

Sirius rolled his eyes, glancing at Remus with an exaggerated pout. "Honestly, Moony, was that really necessary? And right on my best side, too! I'm practically out of commission now."

Remus chuckled, though he looked a little guilty as he took in the bruises and scratches covering all of them. "Sorry, Pads. I think Moony has higher standards than stuffed bears."

"Clearly," Sirius replied, feigning hurt as he rubbed the sore spot. "Next time, how about we stick to… I don't know, indestructible steel objects?"

"Or maybe," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow as she looked around at the dishevelled group, "we should consider coming up with some way to actually keep him occupied that doesn't involve poor Sirius getting nibbled on."

Sirius huffed, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "I don't mind Moony's attention, really. Just not when he's in that state. Just wish that I could transform into something less… appetising."

James snorted. "Oh, please, you'd find a way to make a rock look tasty, Pads. Just admit it, you're too appealing for your own good."

Sirius struck a dramatic pose, still wincing a bit. "What can I say, lads? Some of us were born to be adored—even by werewolves."

Remus rolled his eyes, though the hint of a smile played on his lips. "Next time, I'll do my best to keep my, erm, wilder self in check. Maybe we'll try something a bit sturdier than a teddy bear for a distraction."

Peter grinned, nudging Sirius. "In the meantime, maybe a cushion charm?"

Hermione bit back a laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched Sirius try to maintain his dignity. "I'm sure I can whip one up if you're in need, Padfoot. Just to preserve your… assets."

Sirius sighed theatrically. "Oh, go on, mock the injured. But just you wait—I'll have my revenge. And Moony, you owe me."

Remus raised a brow, his tone teasing. "And what exactly do you want me to do? Kiss it better?"

The laughter that followed echoed through the Shrieking Shack, each of them shaking off the aches and pains of the night with the help of Sirius's dramatics. And as they made their way back to the castle, Sirius grumbling and wincing with each step, they couldn't help but feel grateful for the bonds that kept them together, even through the wildest of moons.

The chill November air was charged with anticipation as the Gryffindors and Slytherins took their places on the Quidditch pitch, the rivalry between the two houses practically crackling in the air. Gryffindor had won the cup for two years straight, and Slytherin was out for blood this time. James led his team with his usual confidence, flashing Hermione a grin from across the stands as he took off, giving her a wink that sent her heart fluttering.

But from the very start, it was clear that this match would be brutal. The Slytherin players were relentless, targeting James with a double assault of Bludgers every time he attempted to gain ground. They'd abandoned subtlety altogether, throwing every dirty trick in the book to keep him from advancing.

Hermione gripped the edge of her seat, her knuckles turning white as she watched James dodge one Bludger, only to narrowly miss colliding with a Slytherin Chaser moments later. Remus, seated beside her, wore a concerned frown, muttering under his breath about foul play. Even Lily, sitting just a few seats away, looked tense, leaning forward every time James made a risky move.

It happened in a blur. James had just pulled off a perfect feint, diving to avoid an incoming Bludger, but the second one came hurtling toward him from the other side. He didn't have time to dodge. It struck him with a sickening crack, and before anyone could react, a Slytherin Chaser collided with him on purpose, sending him spiralling off his broom.

Hermione gasped, her heart clenching as she watched James plummet, his body limp as he crashed to the ground below. Madam Hooch's whistle blared, but the game didn't seem to matter anymore. Down on the grass of the pitch Sirius was already dismounting his broom beside James. Hermione was already out of her seat, racing toward the field with the rest of the Gryffindors crowding around her. She caught sight of the other Marauders pushing their way through as well, Peter's face pale with worry, Remus close behind him, looking grim.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to arrive, waving her wand over James's unconscious form, assessing the damage. "Broken ribs, arm, possibly a fractured skull… he'll need Skele-Gro," she muttered, directing the stretcher to carry him to the Hospital Wing.

Hermione's worry was palpable, and though she felt a hand on her shoulder, she barely registered Lily's comforting presence. Her entire focus was on James, following closely as he was levitated up to the castle.

The night passed in a blur of anxiety as Hermione sat by his side in the Hospital Wing, only leaving when Madam Pomfrey firmly insisted she get some rest. She finally relented, heading back to Gryffindor Tower with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who spent the evening reassuring her that James would be fine.

The next morning, Hermione was up at dawn, practically flying to the Hospital Wing. She slipped inside quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was still asleep. And there he was, lying in the bed, his arm in a sling and covered in bandages, his face relaxed in sleep. She noticed someone had removed his glasses the night before, now sitting on the bedside table, leaving his face soft and open, free of the usual frames that always added a certain sharpness to his expression. She realised this was the first time she had ever seen him without them.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she took in his features. Without his glasses, he looked almost younger, a hint of vulnerability she'd never seen before. His messy hair fell slightly across his forehead, and there was a peacefulness to him that made her heart ache.

As if sensing her presence, James stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, squinting slightly, and then his eyes focused on her, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he registered who was sitting by his side.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," she replied softly, unable to suppress her smile. "How are you feeling?"

James gave a slight grimace, lifting his good arm to touch his ribs gingerly. "Like I got run over by a herd of Hippogriffs. But seeing you here helps a bit."

Hermione's cheeks turned pink, and she reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "You had us all worried, you know. That fall… it was terrifying."

"Didn't mean to scare you," he said, his grin turning a little softer. "Can't let Slytherin get the better of us, though, can I?"

She rolled her eyes, though her fingers lingered against his cheek. "You're lucky Madam Pomfrey had Skele-Gro on hand, or you'd be in here for weeks."

"Just one night, thanks to our miracle healer," he teased, looking at her with a warmth that sent a flutter through her chest. "And, hey, maybe I should go without my glasses more often if it gets you to look at me like that."

Hermione's blush deepened, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Oh, so you've noticed, have you?"

"Noticed? Hermione, it's not every day a bloke wakes up to his girl gazing at him like he's some kind of handsome prince."

"Modest as ever, I see," she replied, her voice thick with affection.

He reached out, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I mean it. It… means a lot, you being here."

Hermione softened, her hand tightening around his. "Of course I'd be here, James. I… I don't know what I'd do if you got really hurt." Her voice caught slightly, and she swallowed, looking away for a moment to steady herself.

James gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, his eyes never leaving her face. "Hey, don't worry. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Just then, Sirius, Remus, and Peter burst into the Hospital Wing, their voices immediately filling the quiet space.

"Oi, Prongs, still in one piece?" Sirius called, striding over with his usual swagger, though Hermione could see the relief in his eyes.

James grinned, giving them a lazy wave. "Mostly. No thanks to that Slytherin brute and his Bludgers."

"Oh, don't you worry," Sirius said, smirking. "I've got a few choice words ready for them at breakfast."

Peter chuckled. "Better make it quick, Pads. Snape's already got his eye on you for whatever prank you're planning next."

Remus shook his head, giving James a warm smile. "Glad to see you're awake. Though if you ever scare us like that again, you'll have to deal with all three of us."

James laughed, wincing slightly. "All right, all right. I'll try to keep my heroic dives to a minimum."

The boys settled around his bed, trading stories and jokes, and even Lily popped in briefly to check on him, though James's attention never wavered from Hermione, who stayed close by his side. And as they laughed and teased him, Hermione couldn't help but feel a warmth settle in her chest, knowing that this little family they'd created was bound together more tightly than ever, and that no Bludger—or Slytherin—could ever tear them apart.

The fire crackled softly in the common room, and the scene was a cosy one—Hermione, surrounded by a fortress of books and parchment, was working her way through an essay while James was surprisingly focused on his own notes for once. It was rare to catch him actually sitting still, let alone studying; she'd only ever really seen him do it when he was helping Remus revise or occasionally cramming last-minute in the library before exams. She knew he must put the effort in somewhere, but the sight of him genuinely working with quill in hand and furrowed brow was a novelty she hadn't expected to enjoy so much.

After a while, she found herself watching him more than her own work, her gaze drifting from her notes to his slightly messy hair, which looked even more unruly after his recent accident, down to the quirk of concentration in his lips as he scribbled something. His eyes scanned the pages before him, the warm, hazel depths flicking back and forth in the low light. She was almost mesmerised by the sight, and she must've been more obvious than she realised, because after a while, she noticed his writing had stopped.

When she looked up, he was already smirking, bemusement in his gaze as he leaned back in his seat. "Like what you see?"

She rolled her eyes but shifted closer to him, lifting a hand to slide his glasses off his face. He blinked, clearly caught off guard, but let her do it, eyebrows lifting as she examined him more closely. She'd seen his eyes before, of course, but now, in the quiet of the common room, she could really look, without any barrier between them.

"You've got very nice eyes, you know," she said softly, turning the glasses over in her hand. "They're… well, they're warm."

He laughed, almost nervously, though his usual charm was quick to reappear. "Warm, huh? So, not nearly as impressive as my Quidditch skills?"

She rolled her eyes again, but there was a warmth in her smile. She leaned closer, searching his gaze, noticing how the hazel held its own depth. The centre of his irises was a brown that gave way to hints of yellow and gold, and, she noticed, at the very edges, a subtle ring of green. It wasn't Lily's striking emerald, but somehow, to Hermione, it felt more inviting. "I really like them."

James's bravado faltered just a bit, his cheeks colouring faintly under her scrutiny. "You—you do?" he murmured, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Mhm," she replied, a hint of mischief in her smile. "Without your glasses on, I can really see them. And… they're lovely. Really."

He cleared his throat, looking like he was trying to gather his composure. "So, just lovely?"

"Hmm," she teased, tilting her head. "Maybe a bit more than that. I don't know, you might even be… devastatingly handsome?"

He chuckled, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. "Alright, now I know you're just trying to flatter me."

"Maybe," she whispered, though her gaze remained soft, holding his own as they drifted closer together.

James leaned in, his confidence reasserting itself. "You know, if I'd known all it took to impress you was ditching my glasses, I'd have done it ages ago."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, though she couldn't help but laugh. "As if you haven't tried every trick in the book already."

"Ah, but none of those tricks got you to look at me quite like this," he murmured, his voice soft as his fingers grazed her cheek.

There was something tender in the moment, a vulnerability neither of them had expected, and they stayed like that for a long, quiet beat, simply taking each other in. Finally, Hermione tilted her head, breaking the spell with a teasing smile.

"So, are you going to get back to studying, or are you just going to keep staring at me?"

"Maybe a bit of both," he said with a grin, but he glanced down at his notes, feigning exasperation. "See? You've distracted me now."

She handed his glasses back with a smirk. "Oh, please. Don't blame me if you end up in detention for not finishing your work."

"Oh, I won't. I'll just get you to help me with it later."

"Nice try," she laughed, finally pulling her own essay back in front of her. "You're on your own this time."

Sirius cleared his throat dramatically, breaking the cosy silence. "Ahem," he announced, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk. "You know, if you two are going to have a whole romantic interlude, you might at least warn the rest of us before we start melting into the background."

Hermione jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing as she realised they'd all but forgotten about the other three seated just a couch away. Remus was trying—and failing—to hold back a laugh, while Peter looked vaguely uncomfortable, clearly unsure whether he should excuse himself or stay put.

James grinned, unbothered, slipping his glasses back on with a carefree shrug. "Oh, don't act so scandalised, Pads. You and Moony have done far worse in this common room."

Sirius raised his hands in mock indignation, a devilish glint in his eye. "Please! I'm always discreet with my affections, thank you very much. Isn't that right, Moony?"

Remus chuckled, leaning into Sirius's shoulder with a sly smile. "Sure, Pads. Very discrete. Which is why you've practically declared your love for me in the middle of every class we share."

Sirius gave him a fond nudge, but his eyes flicked back to James and Hermione with a mischievous twinkle. "Honestly, Prongs, you're getting soppier by the day. Keep this up, and we'll need a bucket in here every time you two look at each other."

James rolled his eyes, unfazed. "You're one to talk, Sirius. As if you don't go completely starry-eyed every time Moony so much as smiles at you."

Sirius smirked, unfazed. "Ah, but I don't pretend otherwise. If anything, I'm setting a standard."

Hermione sighed, unable to suppress her laughter. "Yes, because nothing says 'standards' quite like the two of you bickering about who's more sentimental."

Remus chuckled, nudging Sirius playfully. "Maybe we should leave the lovebirds in peace, love. Besides, I don't think I need a play-by-play on Prongs's romantic gestures any more than Hermione needs to hear yours."

Sirius placed a hand dramatically over his chest, feigning insult. "You wound me, Moony. Just trying to make sure our dear Kitten here doesn't get overwhelmed by Prongs's sappiness."

"Overwhelmed?" Hermione shot back, her tone full of mock indignation. "Hardly. I'd say I'm just getting started."

"Oh, you're in for it now, Pads," James quipped, slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders with a grin. "Looks like you're not the only one who can handle a bit of banter."

Sirius leaned back, flashing them a grin. "Good, because you'll need it if you're planning to stick around the Marauders. Sappiness is practically a job requirement at this point."

Remus gave an amused sigh, squeezing Sirius's shoulder. "Maybe we could all agree on a bit less sappiness. At least in public?"

Peter, who had been listening in quiet amusement, finally shook his head, pushing himself up from his chair. "Merlin's beard, I'm off to the kitchens. You lot are about five seconds away from turning this common room into a complete love-fest, and frankly, I'd rather face a stern talking-to from the house-elves than sit here and watch it."

With a wink at Hermione, Peter made his escape, muttering about needing a break from "all this lovey-dovey nonsense."

Sirius grinned after him before turning back to James and Hermione. "So, I'll take it that this means we're all in for more public displays of affection? Should we start some sort of a tally?"

"Oh, come off it, mate," James said, chuckling. "You two get up to enough as it is."

"Fair point," Remus admitted with a sheepish grin, though he squeezed Sirius's hand and murmured, "but maybe we can leave some of that… um… out of the public eye, yeah?"

Hermione tried her best to look unbothered, but her cheeks were still tinged pink. "Alright, yes, we'll keep the 'study sessions' quiet from now on. Deal?"

Sirius leaned forward, giving her a mock serious look. "Only if you promise to keep the swooning at a minimum, too. Otherwise, Remus here might get ideas."

Remus gave her a sympathetic smile. "Believe me, Hermione, I know how hard it is to deal with him."

She couldn't help but laugh, her embarrassment finally fading into amusement. "Fine, fine," she said, casting a fond look at James. "I'll try to keep the swooning under control. But no promises."

As the group settled back into their books and chatter, a warm, comfortable silence settled over them once again, the lingering traces of laughter a reminder that, embarrassing or not, moments like these were what kept them together.

At the latest Slug Club dinner, the room was filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the hum of polite conversation. Professor Slughorn had outdone himself, transforming his office into a lavish dining space with flickering candles, a luxurious spread of food, and a glittering assortment of crystal goblets filled with pumpkin juice and wine for those of age. Slughorn moved through his guests like a well-rehearsed showman, stopping at each small group to chat and laugh, his booming voice carrying across the room.

As dinner was winding down and most of the students were caught up in their own conversations, Hermione took her chance, approaching Professor Slughorn just as he was topping up his glass, momentarily free from his usual audience. She put on her best polite smile, hoping he wouldn't see the urgency behind her expression.

"Professor Slughorn?" she began, her tone casual. "I was just thinking… you must have had some really remarkable students over the years. Do you have a favourite? Or perhaps one that stood out for their talent?"

Slughorn's face lit up, clearly pleased with the question. "Ah, Miss Prewett, that's the sort of thing an old professor loves to be asked." He chuckled, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "Yes, I've certainly had my share of… gifted students."

Encouraged by his reaction, Hermione leaned in slightly. "Anyone who really stood out, perhaps? Someone… particularly brilliant?"

Slughorn's expression flickered just for a moment, his gaze darting away from her. "Well," he began slowly, "there have certainly been a few. But brilliance alone isn't enough, you know. Talent… well, it must be matched by good character."

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied smoothly, sensing his discomfort but determined to press forward. "But I imagine brilliance like that is hard to forget. Surely you remember one who… left a lasting impression?"

He sighed, glancing around as if to ensure no one else could hear. "There was one… yes, a boy by the name of Tom Riddle. I've already mentioned him to you." His voice was low, his expression unreadable. "He… well, he was talented, no denying it. Charismatic, too. Almost too much so." Slughorn took a deep sip of his wine, his face darkening.

Hermione tried to keep her tone light, though her heart was racing. "Really? What was he like as a student?"

Slughorn hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "He was… brilliant. Top of his class in nearly every subject, especially in Defence the Dark Arts. I'd say he was one of the finest students I've ever had." His voice dropped slightly. "But he had… an intensity. A certain ambition, you might say."

"Ambition?" Hermione echoed, trying to sound curious rather than alarmed.

"Yes, ambition," he said, his gaze shifting as if haunted by the memory. "Always asking questions… some of them, well, they were… unusual questions."

The words hung in the air between them, and Hermione could sense the weight of what he wasn't saying. She felt the urge to probe deeper but knew she'd need to tread carefully.

"Unusual questions?" she repeated, feigning an innocent smile. "I suppose that's natural for someone so curious?"

Slughorn's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he saw through her politeness. "Curiosity is one thing, Miss Prewett, but… there are some questions best left unasked." He looked away, his voice turning brisk as he seemed to close the door on the conversation. "Riddle… is best left in the past. Hogwarts has seen many bright students since him, and we'd do well to remember them instead."

Hermione offered a polite nod, but the disappointment gnawed at her. "Of course, Professor," she said, though she knew he wouldn't be mentioning Tom Riddle again anytime soon.

Before she could think of another approach, Slughorn gave her a firm, though friendly smile, and turned to address another student, the conversation clearly over. Hermione returned to her seat, frustration simmering under her polite expression. There was definitely something Slughorn was hiding, and she suspected it was more than just disappointment in a former pupil.

After the dinner ended and she joined James in the common room, she relayed the latest encounter, shaking her head. "He's locked up tighter than Gringotts," she muttered. "I don't know if he'll ever be willing to share whatever he's hiding."

"Maybe he's embarrassed," James suggested. "If he did help Riddle in any way, even unknowingly, he might be ashamed."

Hermione nodded, though her frustration was clear. "Maybe, but I can't shake the feeling that whatever he knows could be important. It's like there's some key we're missing."

James gave her a comforting smile, taking her hand. "We'll figure something out," he said. "We're Marauders now, aren't we? If anyone can get Slughorn to crack, it's us."

Hermione sighed, leaning her head back against the wall in frustration as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. "I feel like I've tried every angle already," she muttered, exasperation heavy in her voice. "He just shuts down the second I even hint at anything to do with Tom Riddle. It's like he's put up this impenetrable wall. I'm not sure I can find another way at this point to bring him up without arousing very serious suspicions."

James crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully as he looked at her. "Are we sure he even knows anything more than what we already know? I mean, maybe he's just embarrassed that one of his prize students turned out to be… well, You-Know-Who."

Hermione glanced up, eyes filled with uncertainty. "Maybe… but there's still this feeling that he's hiding something important. Like he knew Riddle's potential, maybe even encouraged it in some way. I just—" She stopped herself, rubbing her temples in frustration. "It's impossible to know for sure. I hadn't even met Slughorn in the future, much less heard any stories about him. He wasn't even a name, really. He stopped teaching long before I came to Hogwarts, so I don't know what else I could try."

James nodded, sympathetic, but he was also cautious. "Look, I know we're both curious, and I get why you're frustrated. But we can't lose sight of the bigger picture. We know Riddle became Voldemort. We know that much. Slughorn might not know anything beyond that—and pushing him any more could backfire."

Hermione leaned into him, letting out a sigh. "I know. I just hate giving up on a lead, especially with something as important as this." She glanced up at him, giving a wry smile. "I'd hoped his fascination with me as some kind of 'brilliant student' would work in our favour, but apparently, some things even flattery can't get you."

James chuckled, though his tone turned serious again as he looked at her. "There's still the Felix Felicis idea," he sighed, frowning. "If we're really that desperate, we could try bringing Lily in… maybe we could get her to lend us some, if she still has it."

Hermione shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked at him. "You really don't like that idea, do you?"

"Not particularly," James admitted with another sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Not that I don't trust her, I just have this feeling that this would get complicated really fast if she gets a whiff about the future."

"You're probably right," Hermione said, reaching out to take his hand. "I don't want to risk it either, especially when she might not even have any left."

They shared a look, both of them feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them.

"So… we'll leave this line of inquiry alone for now?" James asked, his tone lighter but with an underlying seriousness.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Maybe something else will come up. In the meantime, I think we've hit a dead end here."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them processing the decision. It wasn't the outcome Hermione had hoped for, but there was also a strange sense of relief in letting it go, even if only temporarily.

James squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll figure something out. And for now… at least we can enjoy the fact that we're not getting ourselves tangled up in Slughorn's web any more than we already are."

Hermione laughed softly, nodding. "Right. The less attention we draw, the better."