The Gryffindor common room was alive with the usual evening buzz—crackling fire, scattered murmurs of students working on essays, and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls. But in one cosy corner, the six of them—James, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily—were nestled together, a mix of books, chess pieces, and snacks spread across the table.

Hermione had her nose in a textbook, occasionally nudging James when his knee jostled her leg. Sirius lounged on the couch like he owned it, lazily tossing a chocolate frog into the air and catching it with his mouth. Remus was reading quietly, and Peter was fiddling with a half-eaten bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Lily sat cross-legged in the armchair, her brow furrowed as though she were trying to piece together a particularly tricky puzzle.

Suddenly, Lily straightened, her eyes widening in revelation. "Sweet Circe," she breathed, her voice a mix of shock and triumph. But before anyone could react, she smartly flicked her wand, casting a privacy charm around their little group.

The others exchanged glances, startled by her sudden intensity.

"What's going on, Lilyflower?" Sirius drawled, though his posture tensed ever so slightly.

Lily ignored him, her green eyes darting between them. "Your nicknames," she said, her voice low but brimming with certainty. "They're your Animagus forms."

The room went silent.

Hermione froze, her quill hovering mid-note. James paused halfway to picking up a chess piece. Sirius, who rarely looked genuinely startled, blinked. Peter shifted uncomfortably, trying to make himself small, and Remus groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, she cracked it," Sirius muttered, throwing up his hands. "Give her a bloody medal."

James sighed, slumping back in his seat. "Alright, fine. Yes. But can we all agree to go back to pretending you don't know this? It's not exactly something we want going around."

Lily smirked, ignoring his plea as she turned to James. "Prongs. A stag, right?"

James exchanged a glance with Hermione before nodding reluctantly. "Yeah. That's me."

Her gaze slid to Sirius. "Padfoot. A dog."

"A very good-looking dog," Sirius corrected with a smirk. "Honestly, Evans, if you're going to expose us, at least throw in some compliments."

"And Wormtail…" Her gaze shifted to Peter, who was now looking anywhere but at her. "A rat?"

Peter nodded miserably, muttering, "It's not as bad as it sounds…"

Lily's attention finally landed on Remus, her expression softening as the puzzle clicked into place. "And you're Moony because… because of the full moon."

"Did you really need to spell that one out?" Remus sighed, closing his book with a resigned thud. "I didn't exactly get a say in my nickname."

Then her gaze swung to Hermione. "Kitten. You're a cat, then?"

Hermione blinked, her expression shifting to one of amused exasperation. "No, actually. I'm not a cat."

Lily frowned. "But your nickname—Kitten. That has to be a cat. It's too obvious."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured vaguely at Sirius, who grinned devilishly. "I got the nickname long before I became an Animagus. Apparently, I was 'feisty,' and Sirius thought it was hilarious to call me a 'kitten with claws.'"

"And the name stuck," Sirius said with an air of pride.

"Unfortunately," Hermione added dryly. "But no, my Animagus form is not a cat. It's an ermine."

Lily tilted her head, intrigued. "An ermine?"

"Yeah, like a little white weasel, sort of," Hermione explained with a shrug, glancing around at the group.

Lily immediately snorted a laugh, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, come on, that's funny on so many levels. You live with the Weasleys, and it sort of rhymes with your first name."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Yes, thank you, Lily, for pointing that out. Truly groundbreaking."

Sirius, leaning back in his chair with a grin, decided to make things worse. "Their young are also called kits, you know," he said, tone dripping with mischief. "So Kitten still fits. Perfectly, in fact."

James, trying to suppress his laughter, chimed in. "So, what you're saying, Pads, is that you've been eerily accurate with that nickname all along?"

"Clearly," Sirius said smugly. "I'm a visionary."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Oh, don't you dare take credit for that. You didn't know my Animagus form when you started calling me Kitten. You were just being a pain."

"Was I wrong, though?" Sirius teased, flashing her an infuriatingly charming grin. "You've always had claws."

"You're lucky I'm not hexing you right now," Hermione muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched in reluctant amusement.

Lily, still laughing, leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's kind of perfect. A little white ermine… and you're always so poised and clever. It fits better than a cat."

"Well, thank you for that glowing endorsement," Hermione said dryly, though her tone softened at Lily's genuine smile.

Peter, who had been silent for most of the exchange, suddenly piped up. "Wait, so… technically you're a weasel?"

The room fell silent for a beat before Sirius burst out laughing. "See, Wormtail gets it! You're practically cousins."

Hermione groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I should've known you'd latch onto that."

Remus, ever the peacemaker, gave her a reassuring smile. "It's a noble creature, Hermione. Ermines are resourceful, elegant, and adaptable. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thank you, Remus," Hermione said, sending him a grateful look. "At least someone here has a shred of decency."

"Still a weasel, though," Sirius mumbled under his breath, earning him a smack on the arm from James.

"Alright, Pads, leave her alone," James said, smirking. "Otherwise, she might unleash those claws on you."

"Promise?" Sirius shot back cheekily.

Hermione shook her head, finally breaking into a laugh despite herself. "You lot are impossible."

The days leading up to the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match were surprisingly tense for Hermione. She'd never been one to get overly anxious about Quidditch matches—she'd sat through plenty of Harry's wild and dangerous games in the future, her heart racing but her focus steady through jinxed brooms, rogue bludgers and dementors swarming the pitch. But after the Slytherin game, with James getting hurt so badly, her nerves felt raw. Every time she thought about him taking to the skies again, her stomach clenched involuntarily.

It's just Hufflepuff, she tried to reassure herself for the hundredth time as she sat in the library one evening. The Hufflepuffs were notoriously fair players; they'd never intentionally play rough. Still, the memory of James tumbling off his broom and hitting the ground with a sickening crunch wouldn't leave her. Her hand tightened on the quill in her grip, smudging the parchment with ink.

By the time Friday rolled around, the day before the match, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. For the first time in basically a year, she found herself wandering down to the Quidditch pitch to watch practice.

The pitch was buzzing with energy as the Gryffindor team zoomed through the air, their scarlet robes vivid against the crisp blue sky. The sound of James barking orders at his teammates rang out, his voice carrying over the roar of the wind. He was completely in his element, darting between players with effortless grace, his broom responding to every subtle shift of his body.

Hermione stood near the stands, arms crossed over her chest as she tried to suppress the nervous knot in her stomach. She spotted Sirius lounging nearby, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as he leaned casually against the fence. When he caught sight of her, he raised an eyebrow and strolled over.

"Well, well," Sirius drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Haven't seen you down here since last year. What's the occasion? Come to ogle the captain?"

Hermione shot him a sharp look, but the blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away. "I'm just… here to watch practice."

"Right. Because you're suddenly so invested in Quidditch strategy?" Sirius teased, leaning on the railing beside her.

"Maybe I am," she said stiffly, her eyes fixed on James as he dove after the Quaffle. "Or maybe I'm just making sure he doesn't get himself killed again."

Sirius's smirk faded slightly, and he gave her a more thoughtful look. "He'll be fine, you know. Hufflepuff's not exactly the dirty-playing type."

"I know," Hermione said, her voice quieter now. "It's just… after last time…" She trailed off, hugging her arms tighter around herself. "I can't stop thinking about what could've happened. What might happen."

Sirius's teasing demeanour softened entirely. He bumped her shoulder lightly. "Prongs is tough. And more than that, he's careful. Believe it or not, he's not as reckless as he looks up there."

Hermione gave him a sideways glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "Are we talking about the same James Potter?"

Sirius laughed. "Okay, fair. He's mostly careful. But seriously, he's good. Best Chaser Gryffindor's had in years. If anyone can handle themselves out there, it's him."

Hermione exhaled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders as she nodded. "I know. I just… I worry."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Sirius said, grinning again. "Don't let him catch you at it, though. It'll go straight to his head."

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. She turned her attention back to James just as he scored another goal, his triumphant cheer echoing across the pitch. He glanced her way afterward, catching her gaze with a grin that was equal parts playful and proud. She felt her heart flutter despite herself.

"See?" Sirius said, nudging her again. "He's fine. Better than fine, really. You've got nothing to worry about."

Hermione didn't respond immediately, but as she watched James zip through the air, her confidence in him grew. Sirius was right—he was good. Still, she resolved to cheer louder than anyone at the match tomorrow, just to remind him how much she cared.

"Why aren't you practising?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed as it finally dawned on her that Sirius was here leaning idly against the fence, looking decidedly unoccupied, instead of on the field with the rest of the team.

"Prongs benched me," he said casually, though the tone of his voice carried a hint of frustration.

"What? Why?" she asked, surprised.

Sirius held up his left hand, and her stomach twisted when she noticed the faint tremor in his fingers. "Cruciatus aftereffect still lingering," he admitted, shrugging as though it was no big deal.

Hermione's expression softened, concern flickering in her eyes. "But… you played at the last match…"

"Yeah, and look where that got us," he said with a heavy sigh, his eyes momentarily darting to the pitch where James was calling out instructions to the team. "I should've been more on top of those Bludgers. If I'd been quicker, sharper, maybe James wouldn't have taken that fall."

"Sirius, that wasn't your fault—"

"I'm not saying it was all on me," he interrupted, though the guilt in his voice was unmistakable. "But I know I wasn't at my best, and he knows it too. Quidditch isn't a game where you can afford to be half a second off. Especially not for a Beater." He gave her a self-deprecating grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "He's completely right to bench me. At least it's not in my wand arm."

Hermione bit her lip, feeling a pang of sympathy. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly, her voice filled with genuine regret.

Sirius waved her off with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Kitten. It's not the end of the world. Your lovely boyfriend's the one with the undying Quidditch obsession. Me? I mostly play because of him."

She tilted her head, her brow knitting together. "You don't love it?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I enjoy it," Sirius admitted, his smirk returning with a touch of his usual bravado. "But it's not my life the way it is for Prongs. He lives and breathes this game. I mean, if I didn't play, who'd keep him from throwing himself in front of Bludgers half the time?" He paused, his smirk softening into a more genuine smile. "But yeah… I played mostly for him. Figured if he's going to drag me into practice all the time, I might as well be useful."

Hermione let out a small laugh despite herself, shaking her head. "You're a good friend, Sirius."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Sirius teased, his grin growing. "I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Well, for what it's worth," Hermione said, her voice more earnest now, "I think you made the right call by listening to him. It's not forever. And I'm sure James knows how much you've got his back—both on and off the pitch."

Sirius looked at her for a moment, his usual mischief giving way to something softer. "Thanks, Kitten. You're alright, you know that?"

She smiled, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "So are you, Sirius. Even if you'll never admit it."

Practice ended with James's loud whistle cutting through the air, and before Hermione could even gather her thoughts, he was already zooming towards her on his broom. He weaved through his teammates with ease, his movements as sharp and fluid as ever, and his half-turn stop in front of the stands sent a gust of wind rushing past her. Hermione staggered back a step, clutching the railing for balance, as her hair blew wildly around her face.

James grinned down at her, the kind of grin that made his hazel eyes sparkle. "What do you think, Kitten? Reckon I'm ready to crush the Hufflepuffs?" he asked, still hovering just off the ground, his broom swaying slightly beneath him.

Hermione laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she fought to compose herself. "Well, I'd say you're more than ready if knocking me off my feet is any indication."

"I'll take that as a yes," James said, his grin widening. He leaned forward on his broom, resting his chin on his hands as he looked at her with playful earnestness. "You're not worried about me, are you?"

"Always," she replied without hesitation, her tone light but laced with sincerity. "But that doesn't mean I don't think you'll do great."

James's expression softened, his grin turning into something warmer. "You know," he said, dismounting smoothly and landing in front of her, "having you here… watching practice… I think that's my secret weapon."

"Oh, please," Hermione said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress her smile. "If I'm your secret weapon, we're in serious trouble."

"Never," James said, stepping closer and placing a hand over his chest. "You're my good luck charm. And now, I've got all the luck in the world for this match."

Sirius's voice rang out from the pitch before Hermione could respond. "Oi, Prongs! Stop flirting and help pack up the equipment, yeah?"

James groaned dramatically, his head falling back. "Bloody tyrant, you'd think he's captain," he muttered, but his eyes sparkled with humour. Turning back to Hermione, he added, "Wait for me? We'll walk back together."

"Of course," she said, her smile softening as he jogged off to join Sirius and the rest of the team.

As Hermione watched him go, she felt the nervous weight that had been pressing on her chest all week lift slightly. James was in his element, confident and steady, and somehow, that steadiness reassured her too.

James emerged from the changing rooms, his hair still damp from the quick shower he had taken, and immediately sought Hermione out. She was leaning casually against a railing near the edge of the pitch, her arms crossed and an amused smile on her face. When he spotted her, he wasted no time, striding over and slipping his hand into hers with an easy grin.

"Alright, Miss Prewett," he said, giving her hand a playful squeeze. "Any particular reason for coming out today? Not that I'm complaining about having my very own cheerleader, of course."

Hermione tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Can't a girlfriend come to admire her boyfriend's sporty physique without it being a reason for an interrogation?"

James's grin widened, and he tugged her gently toward the path back to the castle. "Admire away," he said with mock arrogance, running his free hand through his damp hair in an exaggerated attempt to look suave. "I mean, I can't say I blame you. It's hard to resist, isn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing as she bumped her shoulder against his, so glad that the deflection worked even if it landed her in the middle of a classic Potter ego-trip. She knew he was doing it on purpose for the banter. "Oh, absolutely. It's a wonder the entire school isn't lining up to watch your practices."

James smirked, clearly enjoying himself. "They should be," he said, puffing out his chest dramatically. "Honestly, it's a travesty that they're not. I'm practically a public service."

Hermione snorted, shaking her head as they walked. "A public service? Merlin, you're unbearable."

"And yet," James said, pulling her closer as they ambled along the path, "you're still here, voluntarily, watching said public service in action."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. "Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big. Consider it my civic duty."

James let out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Is that what this is? A duty?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said with mock seriousness, though her hand squeezed his a little tighter. "If I didn't keep you grounded, who knows what would happen? You'd probably have your own fan club by now."

"'The James Potter Admirers' Society,'" James said, as though tasting the words, his grin growing. "I like it. Rolls right off the tongue."

"Oh, I'm sure it does," Hermione said dryly. "You'd even assign Sirius as president, wouldn't you?"

James grinned cheekily. "Well, he is my biggest fan."

"Only because he's obligated," Hermione shot back. "That's what best mates are for. Though I think Remus would resign from the society before it even began."

"True," James admitted with a laugh. "Moony would find the whole thing insufferable. But don't think I haven't noticed," he added, leaning a little closer with a playful glint in his eyes, "you haven't actually denied being a fan yourself."

Hermione stopped walking, turning to face him with a raised brow. "And feed that already-inflated ego of yours? I don't think so."

James gasped, clutching his chest in mock affront. "You wound me, Kitten. Truly."

"I'm sure you'll recover," Hermione said, rolling her eyes even as she tried to hide her smile. "You've got a whole society to back you up, remember?"

"Ah, but none of them hold a candle to you," James said with a wink, his voice softer now, though still tinged with mischief. "My number one fan."

Hermione groaned, but her cheeks betrayed her with a soft blush. "If I'm your number one fan, Potter, then the standards for your imaginary society are abysmally low."

James just grinned, unbothered by the jab, and tugged her back into step with him. "Standards, schmandards. As long as you're in it, that's all I care about."

Hermione shook her head but didn't pull her hand away, allowing him to lead her back toward the castle. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," James quipped, his voice light and teasing but carrying a warmth that lingered in the cold February air.

Hermione didn't respond, but the faint smile tugging at her lips as they walked hand in hand said enough.

The match itself was exhilarating in the best way possible. Gryffindor was dominating the field, with their Chasers weaving through the Hufflepuff defence like silk threads, and the score climbing steadily to 160-20. Hermione could see James in his element, confident and utterly in control, directing plays with the ease of someone who lived and breathed Quidditch. It was the kind of match that reminded her why people loved the sport—and, more importantly, it seemed like exactly the kind of match to settle her recent anxiety.

Hermione allowed herself to relax, even cheering loudly when James scored another ten points with a spectacular feint that left the Hufflepuff Keeper scrambling. The roar of the crowd swelled, and Hermione thought maybe, just maybe, she could enjoy watching Quidditch without fearing another disastrous injury.

That was until her eyes landed on Lily, sitting a few seats down from Remus, who was also watching the game with a quiet smile. At first, Hermione thought she was just caught up in the excitement—Lily's cheers were enthusiastic if slightly strained. Then she noticed it: Lily winced as she tried to cheer, quickly covering a cough with her fist.

Hermione's heart sank. Without hesitation, she got up and made her way over, dodging a particularly exuberant Peter, who had stood up to applaud.

"Lily," she said firmly, standing in front of her. "You're coming with me. Now."

"What?" Lily blinked up at her, clearly surprised. "Why? The match isn't even over!"

"You know why," Hermione said pointedly, crossing her arms.

"I don't—"

"You're coughing," Hermione cut her off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Don't make me explain this here."

Lily opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could, Marlene McKinnon, seated a row behind, leaned forward with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Finally! Someone's talking sense into her. She's been like this all morning!"

Lily looked caught between indignation and embarrassment but allowed Hermione to tug her up from her seat. As they made their way out of the stands, Hermione cast a discreet warming charm over Lily, who had clearly forgotten to do so herself.

Lily frowned, pulling her cloak tighter around her as they walked up the hill toward the castle. "Hermione, what's the big deal? It's just a little cold."

Hermione sighed, her tone casual but firm. "Marauder Rule #1: Don't be sick around Remus, especially not so close to the full moon."

Lily's brows furrowed in confusion, her steps faltering slightly. "What? Why would that—" She stopped mid-sentence, her mind working quickly. "Wait… oh, dammit." Realisation dawned on her face, her expression shifting from confusion to horror. "Aconite in Pepper-Up, right?"

"Exactly," Hermione said, nodding with approval. "You're the potions prodigy. I thought you'd figure it out."

Lily groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't even think about it. I mean, it's such a tiny amount, barely traceable—but yeah, that would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"It would, he can't take Pepper-Up," Hermione confirmed. "So, here's the plan. You're going up to the Hospital Wing, taking your potion, waiting the required four hours, and then coming back for the celebrations as a brand-new witch."

Lily sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're bossy, you know that?"

"Efficient," Hermione corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips. "And you'll thank me later. Consider this phase two of the Marauder initiation."

As they entered the castle, Hermione noticed Lily glancing at her sideways, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her obvious annoyance. "You're good at this, you know. Taking care of people."

Hermione shrugged. "I've had practice. Now, let's get you sorted before Remus finds out you've been coughing near him."

Lily laughed weakly as they headed toward the Hospital Wing. "If I survive this, I owe you."

"Just doing my civic duty," Hermione quipped with a grin.

By the time Hermione made it back to the Gryffindor common room, the match was long over, and the party was already in full swing. The room was a sea of red and gold, with Gryffindor banners draped everywhere and Butterbeer mugs being passed around. Laughter and cheers filled the air as students celebrated their overwhelming victory.

James spotted her the moment she walked in and was by her side in an instant, his broom slung casually over his shoulder. "Where'd you disappear to?" he asked, his tone light but with a hint of disappointment. "You missed the end! I was going to dedicate my big, dramatic victory lap to you."

Hermione gave him a small, apologetic smile and leaned closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Lily was sick in the stands. I had to take her to the Hospital Wing before Remus noticed anything."

James's frown melted away, replaced by understanding as he glanced over at Remus, who was perched on one of the couches, a mug of Butterbeer in hand. He was watching them closely, his sharp gaze giving away that he'd already heard everything Hermione had just said.

"Thanks," Remus said softly, his tone sincere as he stood and approached them. Without hesitation, he pressed a grateful kiss to her hair. "I was trying to ignore it, but you were right to step in. I can't risk catching anything this close to…" He trailed off, but they all knew what he meant.

Hermione smiled gently. "I figured as much. Don't worry—she's fine now. She'll be back in a few hours after resting."

James sighed, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "You're too good at this, you know? Always taking care of everyone."

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "Someone has to keep all of you out of trouble."

"Well, you do a damn good job of it," James said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately before grinning. "Now, come on. You've got some partying to catch up on, and I think Sirius is about three Butterbeers away from attempting some kind of ridiculous toast."

Remus chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched the two of them. "That's probably true. I'll go keep him out of trouble… as best I can."

As Remus wandered off, James turned back to Hermione with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what do you say, Miss Prewett? Care to celebrate Gryffindor's finest captain?"

Hermione smirked, letting him tug her toward the drinks table. "Only if you promise to stop calling yourself Gryffindor's finest."

"Never," James declared, his grin widening.

The party carried on around them, but for Hermione, the night felt lighter now, knowing that everything was as it should be—for now.

The March 5th full moon began like most of their recent outings—cold, quiet, and tinged with the nervous energy that always accompanied letting Moony roam outside of the Shrieking Shack. The Marauders had fallen into a cautious rhythm over the past few months, each of them taking on specific roles to keep things controlled. Sirius, in his Animagus form as Padfoot, stayed close to Moony, acting as both companion and guard. Prongs used his larger size to help herd or block if necessary, while Wormtail scouted ahead, ensuring they were clear of any unexpected surprises. Hermione, as her ermine Animagus form, was smaller and more agile, providing an extra set of watchful eyes and quick reflexes.

That night, the moon hung high in the clear sky, bathing the forest in silvery light. Moony seemed unusually restless from the start, pacing back and forth in the clearing they'd chosen as their temporary spot. The novelty of being outside the Shack had worn off, and Moony, with the full force of the wolf's instincts, was growing bolder with every moon.

It happened so suddenly that none of them had time to react. Moony caught a scent in the air—something faint but tantalising—and his head snapped toward the dense trees. In a flash, he was off, moving with startling speed deeper into the forest.

Prongs was the first to react, galloping after him with his antlers lowered to block his path. Padfoot barked sharply, bounding to cut him off from another angle, while Wormtail scurried to keep up, squeaking in alarm. Hermione darted forward, her small form weaving through the underbrush to stay close.

Despite their efforts, Moony managed to slip past them, his movements erratic and fueled by raw energy. The wolf's instincts had taken over completely, and for the first time, the group truly struggled to contain him.

"James, he's heading toward the northern edge!" Hermione's voice echoed in James's mind as she transformed briefly to shout, before quickly shifting back into her Animagus form to keep up.

Prongs pushed harder, using his size to his advantage as he broke through the underbrush and finally managed to intercept Moony. With a powerful lunge, he forced the werewolf to stop and snarl in frustration. Padfoot arrived seconds later, circling Moony with a low growl, his body tense but ready to spring if necessary.

The standoff didn't last long. Moony, frustrated and wild-eyed, made another attempt to slip past them, but this time Prongs and Padfoot worked together seamlessly, blocking him from every angle. Wormtail managed to dart ahead, distracting Moony just long enough for Hermione to leap onto a low branch and drop down in front of the wolf, forcing him to halt.

After what felt like an eternity, Moony's energy began to wane, his wild thrashing calming into agitated pacing. The group carefully herded him back toward the Shack, their breaths coming in sharp puffs in the cold night air.

When dawn finally broke and they all transformed back, the exhaustion was palpable. Remus, sitting against the wall of the Shack with his head in his hands, looked utterly drained—not just physically, but emotionally. He didn't have a clear memory of these nights, just feelings and impressions, but in his gut he knew what had almost happened.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I could've—if I'd gotten away—"

Sirius, still catching his breath, crouched beside him and shook his head. "Don't. It wasn't your fault, Moony. The wolf's instincts… they're just getting stronger."

James, leaning heavily against the wall, nodded. "We need to figure out how to handle this better next time. That was too close."

Hermione, still shaking slightly from the adrenaline, knelt beside Remus and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We'll come up with something. Together. This was just a… a bad night."

Remus gave her a faint, grateful smile, but the weight of what had almost happened lingered heavily in the room. For the first time since they started these outings, the group realised just how thin the line they were walking truly was.

The morning of March 10th started out on a quiet note, with Remus seated in the Gryffindor common room, the usual Marauder chaos blissfully absent—for the moment. A small owl swooped through the window and landed gracefully on the arm of his chair, carrying a modestly wrapped package. He smiled faintly, recognising his father's careful handwriting.

Inside, he found a watch. Simple, but practical, with a leather strap and a gleaming, though understated, silver face. It was the kind of gift that spoke volumes about his father—thoughtful, unassuming, but reliable.

"Seventeen," he murmured to himself, fastening the watch around his wrist. The thought brought a mix of pride and trepidation. Another year had passed, bringing him to adulthood, another year carrying the weight of the wolf.

"Happy Birthday!" Hermione's cheerful voice cut through his musings. She and James approached, both carrying packages, while Sirius trailed behind, wearing his trademark mischievous grin. Peter wasn't far off either, juggling several boxes of what looked suspiciously like sweets and prank items.

Hermione handed Remus a neatly wrapped package. "I know Sirius has been complaining about his section with you in the notebook running out of space, and James and I are almost out of room too, so... here." She looked pleased with herself.

Remus carefully tore into the paper, revealing a set of six notebooks, their covers embossed with a small crescent moon on the corner and charmed to look identical. "Six?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione nodded, her smile turning a bit sheepish. "Yes. There's a Lily section now."

"Lily section?" James echoed, half-laughing. "What, for prefect business?"

"Yes," Hermione said, ignoring his teasing tone. "It'll be useful if they need to discuss something for their duties." She glanced over at Lily, who had just entered the common room and looked curious. "Lily, come here."

Lily approached, her brows raised. "What's this?"

Hermione explained the notebooks, briefly touching on the Protean charm and how it worked. When she finished, Lily looked positively floored. "That's brilliant, Hermione," she said, taking one of the notebooks and flipping through the blank pages. "You're saying anything written in my section will show up in Remus's as well?"

"And vice versa," Hermione confirmed. "It's perfect for prefect duties. You two can communicate without the need for late-night meetings. There's also a separate section for everyone else as well, and anything written in the very first one shows up in all the notebooks."

Lily nodded, still clearly impressed. "I can't believe this. You just... made these?"

Hermione shrugged. "It wasn't too hard. Just a little advanced magic."

Sirius, standing nearby, scoffed. "A little advanced magic? Hermione, you're terrifying sometimes."

Lily grinned, running her hand over the cover of her notebook. "This is incredible. Thank you."

Later, when the crowd dispersed, Remus pulled Hermione aside for a private word. His watch glinted faintly in the afternoon light as he studied her. "Are you sure it's wise to give Lily and James such... ample opportunity to communicate privately?"

Hermione tilted her head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Remus hesitated, then sighed. "She's been talking a lot about James since Valentine's Day. To me. I just... you're not worried?"

Hermione smiled faintly, her tone even. "I trust James, Remus."

"And if something happens?" he pressed.

Her expression softened. "If it happens, it happens. It's James's choice, ultimately."

Remus narrowed his eyes, scrutinising her. "Are you still scheming? Seriously?"

"No!" Hermione protested, though her tone had a teasing edge. "I'm not. I'm just saying that whatever happens, it's not something I can—or would—try to control."

Remus sighed, shaking his head. "You're maddening, you know that?"

Before the conversation could continue, Sirius burst into the room, practically dragging Peter behind him. "Oi, Moony! Birthday boy! Enough whispering, it's time for the real festivities!"

"What did you do?" Remus asked warily, already bracing himself.

"Oh, you'll find out," Sirius said with a wicked grin, pulling out his wand. "But let's just say it involves the Great Hall, an enchanted banner, and maybe a few hundred chocolate frogs."

"Brilliant," James said, clapping Sirius on the back. "Let's go, birthday boy."

Remus groaned but let himself be dragged along. He had long since learned that resistance to Marauder birthday schemes was utterly futile.

The Great Hall was filled with anticipation as the latest Apparition lesson got underway. Dumbledore had lowered the wards in one section of the hall to allow students to practise, and the atmosphere buzzed with nervous excitement. Groups of students gathered in clusters, all eying the designated practice circles with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

"Alright, everyone!" called the Ministry instructor, a wiry wizard named Wilbert Tockley, who had an enthusiasm for Apparition that bordered on the evangelical. "Today, we'll continue practising short-distance Apparitions within the hall. Remember the three Ds: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation! "

Sirius leaned casually against the edge of a table, arms crossed. "Three Ds? More like Don't Die Doing it, " he muttered to James, who snickered in response.

"Focus, Black!" the instructor barked, his sharp eyes narrowing in their direction.

"Always do, sir," Sirius replied with a wink, earning an eye roll from Hermione, who was standing nearby.

"Alright," Tockley continued, clearly deciding not to engage further, "form your circles and take turns. Remember to envision your destination clearly, and do not rush!"

As students took their places, there was a mix of nervous fidgeting and exaggerated confidence. James nudged Hermione with his elbow. "Care to make a wager on who messes up first?"

"Absolutely not," Hermione replied firmly, though her lips twitched with amusement. "That's bad karma."

Within minutes, the first few students managed decent Apparitions, vanishing from one end of the circle and reappearing at the other with varying degrees of grace. There were gasps, cheers, and a few awkward stumbles, but overall, things seemed to be going well.

Until it was Peter's turn.

Peter stood at the edge of the circle, visibly sweating as he squinted at the far side. He muttered under his breath, " Destination, Determination, Deliberation... "

"Come on, Wormtail!" Sirius called encouragingly, though his grin suggested he was ready to laugh at whatever happened next.

Peter closed his eyes, twisted sharply on the spot, and with a loud crack, he vanished. The group waited for him to reappear on the opposite side, but when another crack echoed, Peter reappeared... mostly.

"Merlin's beard!" gasped Marlene.

Peter looked down at himself in horror. His left shoe—and part of the foot inside it—was missing.

"Oh no!" he yelped, hopping on one foot. "Where's my shoe? Where's my foot?!"

Sirius burst out laughing, doubling over as he clutched his sides. "Wormtail! Did you seriously splinch your foot?!"

"It's not funny!" Peter wailed, gripping the side of a nearby table for balance. "What if it's gone forever?!"

Hermione stepped forward, her expression a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "It's not gone forever, Peter. It's just left behind. Stay still, and they'll fix it."

The instructor rushed over, already brandishing his wand. "Don't panic, Mr Pettigrew! A minor splinching, nothing serious. Stay calm."

Peter, clearly not calm, gripped the table tighter as the instructor muttered a spell. With another crack, Peter's missing foot—and shoe—reappeared, albeit slightly scuffed.

"There we are!" Tockley announced, clapping Peter on the back. "No harm done."

"Speak for yourself," Peter muttered, his face pale.

"Wormtail," James said, trying and failing to suppress his grin, "you'll have to work on that 'Deliberation' part."

Sirius, still laughing, clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Honestly, mate, you're lucky it wasn't something more... vital."

Peter glared at him. "Not helping!"

Even Remus chuckled softly. "At least now you'll have a story to tell."

"I wonder what it is always with him and the shoe," Hermione added, thinking of idioms about being one foot out the door.

The lesson continued, though Peter spent the rest of it sitting firmly on the sidelines, rubbing his foot and muttering under his breath as Sirius continued to tease him mercilessly.

The morning of March 27th dawned crisp and clear, with the sun breaking through the lingering chill of early spring. James strolled into the Great Hall, hair as messy as ever but with a brightness in his hazel eyes that even sleep couldn't dim. He was greeted immediately by a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" from his friends, Sirius being the loudest, naturally.

"Morning, Birthday Boy!" Sirius exclaimed, clapping him on the back with enough force to make James stumble. "Seventeen, eh? Big day, Prongs. What are you in the mood for? Grand prank? Great escape? Massive feast in our honour?"

James grinned, sinking into his seat at the Gryffindor table. "Actually, Pads, the only thing I want today is to spend it with Hermione."

Sirius froze, a slice of toast halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked incredulously, his voice louder than necessary. Several heads turned their way, but Sirius didn't seem to care. "You're joking, right? No shenanigans? No pranks? Not even a little one?"

"Nope," James replied easily, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "Just me and Hermione."

Sirius looked scandalised, turning to Remus for backup. "Moony, did you hear that? He's gone soft on us! He's abandoning the Marauder way on his seventeenth birthday!"

Remus, ever the mediator, merely chuckled. "It's his day, Sirius. If he wants to spend it quietly, let him."

"Quietly?" Sirius echoed, aghast. "With her?" He jabbed a finger in Hermione's direction as she approached the table, books in hand.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted cheerfully, dropping her books beside James and taking the seat next to him. "What are we talking about?"

"Your evil influence," Sirius said dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You've turned our dear Prongs into a lovesick puppy."

James laughed, leaning closer to Hermione. "Ignore him. He's just upset I'm not spending my birthday pulling elaborate pranks with him."

Hermione smiled softly. "Well, I think it's sweet. Besides, he gets to see me all day. What's better than that?"

"Exactly," James said, giving Sirius a smug look. "Perfect birthday plan."

Sirius threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine! But if this becomes a trend, I'm staging a mutiny."

The rest of breakfast passed with Sirius sulking dramatically, though Remus kept him in line with a few well-placed quips.

By midday, James and Hermione found themselves wandering the Hogwarts grounds. The sun was out, glinting off the Black Lake and casting long shadows over the still-bare trees. It wasn't warm, but it was pleasant enough to enjoy a leisurely walk, hands brushing occasionally as they strolled.

They found a quiet spot near the edge of the lake, where Hermione pulled a small wrapped package from her bag. "Happy Birthday," she said, handing it to him with a shy smile.

James tore into the wrapping eagerly, revealing two tickets to a Montrose Magpies Quidditch game. His jaw dropped. "You remembered?" he asked, looking at her in awe.

"Of course, I remembered your favourite team," Hermione said, grinning as she watched his reaction. "How could I forget when you told me on our very first real date together? Along with other useful information like the fact that you like gold and treacle tart."

James chuckled, shaking his head as he admired the tickets again. "Ah, yes, the James Potter basics. Quidditch, shiny surfaces, and desserts. All a bloke really needs in life."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms playfully. "You forgot being insufferably smug."

"Hey, it's all part of the charm," James replied with a cheeky grin. "But this," he said, holding up the tickets again, "is brilliant. I mean it. Thank you, Hermione."

"You're welcome," she said, brushing off the compliment, though her cheeks were tinged pink. "I thought it'd be fun to go together. It's in the summer, so no school, no homework… no Marauder mischief to worry about."

"Don't let Sirius hear that last part," James joked, tucking the tickets carefully into his pocket. "He'll accuse you of stealing me away again."

Hermione laughed, leaning into him slightly as they continued to watch the lake. "Well, maybe I am. Just for today."

"Just for today?" James teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I was thinking more like forever."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but her smile softened. "Let's start with today, Potter."

"Fair enough," he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. "Best birthday ever."