It took Hermione about two weeks to get used to James in various states of undress. By then, she'd trained herself to treat the sight of him strolling about in pyjama bottoms or towelling off his hair in just a towel as casually as she might any other morning occurrence. No blushing, no stammering. As if sensing this newfound composure, James—being James—seemed to decide it was time to test her boundaries once again.

She was in the kitchenette one evening, stirring sugar into her cup of coffee, the warm scent wafting around her. Dinner had left her comfortably full, but she needed the caffeine to power through another few hours of studying. The faint crackle of the fire in their shared common room was soothing, and for a brief moment, everything felt perfectly serene.

Until James.

Without warning, his arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her close. She froze, her spoon clinking against the side of her cup. The warmth of his body seeped through her cardigan, his hands resting lightly on her stomach. Then came the soft exhale of his breath against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and playful, "if you keep overloading on coffee like this, I'm going to have to carry you to bed when you crash."

Hermione stiffened, her cheeks flaming despite her best efforts. "James," she said, her tone wavering between exasperation and embarrassment, "I'm perfectly capable of managing my caffeine intake, thank you."

He chuckled, the sound deep and utterly unrepentant. "I'm just saying," he continued, pressing his chin lightly to her shoulder, "you work too hard. I could think of a few ways to help you relax."

Then proceeded to pinch her butt playfully.

Her breath hitched, and she spun around, swatting at him with her free hand. "James Potter, if you don't stop right now, I swear—"

He stepped back, grinning, hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! Just trying to be a supportive fiancé."

"You're insufferable," Hermione huffed, though the corners of her mouth betrayed the hint of a smile. She turned back to her coffee, focusing intently on it as she tried to calm her racing heart.

James leaned casually against the counter, still watching her with that infuriating twinkle in his hazel eyes. "You love me," he said confidently.

Hermione sighed, stirring her coffee once more. "Unfortunately for me, I do."

"And that's why you'll forgive me for this," he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss on her cheek before darting away toward his room, leaving her standing there, flustered and mildly amused.

She shook her head, muttering to herself as she took her coffee to her desk. Living with James Potter was, as she'd suspected from the start, going to be an exercise in patience. And maybe just a little bit of indulgence, too.

On September 19th, the cosy common room of the Head Students' quarters was decorated with a modest but charming display of floating candles and garlands of red and gold. Hermione sat cross-legged on the couch, a warm smile on her face as her friends gathered around her. A small cake sat on the coffee table, its candles flickering invitingly.

"Eighteen, eh?" Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, lounging in one of the armchairs. "You're officially ancient, Kitten. Time to retire."

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to hide her grin. "Yes, Sirius, I'm sure I'll be retiring from my illustrious career as a student any day now."

James leaned against the back of the couch, his hand brushing hers briefly before he smirked. "You're legal in both worlds now. What are you going to do with all that power?"

Hermione leaned her chin on her hand, a mock thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Maybe I should learn to drive."

"Why?" James asked, frowning. "There's Apparition, Floo, Portkeys… I don't really see the point."

"You never know when you might need to fit in," Hermione replied, shooting him a look. "Having driving skills can help. And besides, you didn't seem to have any complaints about Sirius and his motorbike."

"Wait—Sirius has a motorbike?" Marlene interjected, her eyes widening. She leaned forward with keen interest. "Are you serious?"

Sirius sat up straighter, his grin practically feral. "I have never not been Sirius. And damn right I do."

Marlene arched an eyebrow. "You're like every Muggle bad boy cliché rolled into one. The leather jacket, the cigarettes, the tattoos… and now a motorbike? You're practically a character in a trashy romance novel."

Remus snorted, looking up from his slice of cake. "You forgot the brooding looks and his tragic backstory, Marlene. That really ties the whole thing together."

"Oi," Sirius protested, though he was clearly pleased. "The tragic backstory isn't part of the image; that's just a bonus."

"You're impossible," Lily said with a shake of her head, though she was clearly amused.

"Hang on," Alice said, her brow furrowing. "Where do you even keep this motorbike?"

"Potter Manor," Sirius replied nonchalantly. "Picked it up last summer. Took it out a few times—flew like a dream."

"Wait—flew?" Lily interjected, her voice rising. "Sirius, tell me you didn't enchant a motorbike to fly."

"Of course I did," Sirius said, looking scandalised at the suggestion he wouldn't. "What else was I supposed to do with it? Ride it on the ground like some boring Muggle?"

Peter chimed in, his mouth half-full of cake. "Didn't you nearly get arrested on that thing over the summer?"

Sirius turned to him, affronted. "First of all, Wormtail, no one gets arrested when they're on a flying motorbike. They get away."

"Unless they're James and you," Remus added dryly. "Leaving your real names with the Muggle police as a calling card for the Aurors to find later."

"That was one time!" James said, throwing a crumpled napkin at Remus, who dodged it easily. "And you're the one who's always going on about me needing to broaden my horizons. Flying motorbikes count, don't they?"

"I'm not sure 'broadening your horizons' should involve evading Muggle law enforcement," Hermione interjected, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Or you know, getting chased by Death Eaters."

"Don't encourage them," Remus said, shaking his head but unable to hide the small grin tugging at his lips.

Marlene, who had been following the conversation with increasing disbelief, finally threw her hands up. "Hold on a second. Muggle police? Flying motorbikes? Actual Death Eaters? How am I just now hearing about all this?"

James gave her a sheepish grin. "Well, to be fair, it wasn't one of our more... planned adventures."

"More like completely accidental," Sirius added with a shrug, taking a casual bite of his slice of cake. "But brilliant nonetheless."

"Brilliant?" Marlene echoed, staring incredulously between them. "You were chased by Death Eaters and the Muggle police! And you call it brilliant?"

"Of course it was brilliant," Sirius replied, leaning back in his chair as though he were recounting a heroic tale. "The Death Eaters didn't stand a chance, and the Muggle police were thoroughly entertained. A win-win."

"And let's not forget the creative use of Elvendork as a pseudonym," James added, his grin widening. "Unisex names, you know."

Marlene turned to Hermione, gesturing toward the two of them. "How do you deal with this?"

Hermione sighed dramatically, though her smile was unmistakable. "Lots of patience. And occasionally considering stunning spells."

Laughter rippled through the group, and Lily, shaking her head, leaned back in her chair. "Honestly, I don't know how the two of you haven't caused an international incident yet."

"Give them time," Remus said, raising his cup in mock salute. "It's only September."

"I'm still offended you didn't tell me the moment you got the bike," Marlene exclaimed, feigning outrage.

Sirius smirked, winking. "Well, maybe I'll take you for a ride sometime, McKinnon. If you can handle it."

"Please," Marlene shot back, her tone dripping with mock disdain. "I'd probably be better at it than you."

"Careful, Marlene," Remus said with a hint of amusement. "Keep this up, and he'll think you're interested."

"Not a chance," Marlene said dryly. "I've got enough on my plate without dealing with his ego."

Sirius raised a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "Wounded, McKinnon. Absolutely wounded."

"You'll live," Peter said, smirking. "But you know what? I wouldn't mind a ride on that motorbike sometime. Just saying."

"Get in line, Wormtail," Sirius said with a wink. "I've got a whole list of admirers waiting for their turn."

Remus gave Sirius a pointed look, though his lips twitched with amusement. "And how many of those 'admirers' know they're wasting their time?"

Sirius leaned back, throwing an arm around Remus's chair, looking at him with besotted eyes. "Eh, let them dream, Moony. They'll figure it out eventually."

The group dissolved into laughter, Hermione shaking her head at the familiar chaos that seemed to follow wherever her friends went.

James nudged Hermione with a grin. "See? And you think I'm ridiculous."

Hermione laughed, leaning into him slightly. "You're all ridiculous. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Lily said warmly, raising a glass of pumpkin juice. The others followed suit, their glasses clinking together in a chorus of celebration.

As the night wore on, the group traded stories and jokes, the easy camaraderie filling the room with warmth. Hermione looked around at her friends, her fiancé, and the small but perfect gathering. It wasn't an extravagant party, but it was exactly what she had wanted—just the people she cared about most, making her feel like the luckiest witch in the world.

The prefect meeting had wrapped up smoothly, with Hermione feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment as she packed away her notes and charts. As the other prefects dispersed, chatting amongst themselves, a voice stopped her near the door.

"Miss Prewett," said the Ravenclaw fifth-year prefect, Bartemius Crouch Jr., his tone polite but precise. His piercing blue eyes, so much like his father's, studied her with sharp interest. "May I ask you a question?"

Hermione blinked, slightly taken aback by his formal approach. "Of course, Crouch. What is it?"

"I heard a rumour," he began, his voice lowering slightly, "that you achieved eleven O.W.L.s. Is that true?"

Hermione smiled faintly, unsurprised that her academic achievements were a topic of curiosity among the Ravenclaws. "It's true."

His brow furrowed. "How? I thought the timetables made it impossible to take that many subjects with all the scheduling conflicts."

Hermione shrugged lightly, slipping her quill into her bag. "Self-study. The professors don't exactly advertise it, but if you're willing to put in the effort, they'll allow you to sit the exams for subjects you've studied independently."

Bartemius's eyes narrowed in thought. "Self-study? Interesting." He paused, considering her words carefully. "Which subject did you skip, then? There are a total twelve classes offered."

"Divination," Hermione replied without hesitation.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into the faintest sneer as he muttered under his breath, "How close-minded."

Hermione's head snapped up, her expression sharpening. "What was that?"

Crouch straightened, his face carefully neutral. "Nothing. Thank you for the information," he said briskly. "I'll speak to Professor Flitwick about this."

She watched as he strode out of the room, his polished air of ambition practically tangible. Shaking her head, Hermione muttered under her breath, "Well, as the son of the Head of the Auror Office, I suppose it makes sense. Nothing if not academically ambitious."

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if the pursuit of excellence came with its own set of blind spots—and what young Bartemius might choose to ignore in his climb to greatness.

James leaned casually against the doorframe, the chatter from the corridor fading behind him. He crossed his arms as his hazel eyes flicked toward Hermione, who was still gathering her things. Just as Bartemius Crouch Jr. slipped out of sight, James raised an eyebrow, his voice light but probing.

"What did he want?"

"Advice about O.W.L.s," Hermione replied, tossing her notebook into her bag. "He wanted to know how I managed eleven. Seemed genuinely curious."

James frowned slightly, his fingers drumming against the doorframe. "He wants to do eleven O.W.L.s? Sounds ambitious."

Hermione shrugged. "He is ambitious. It's not a crime to want to do well academically, you know."

"No, but…" James hesitated, glancing back toward the door. "I don't know. That kid just always unnerves me."

Hermione paused, her hand stilling on the strap of her bag. She looked up at him, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean? He seems perfectly polite. Driven, maybe, but polite."

James stepped further into the room, his posture relaxing slightly but his expression remaining thoughtful. "Polite, sure. But there's something… off about him. Like he's too polished, you know? The way he looks at people—like he's assessing whether they're worth his time. It's not normal."

Hermione tilted her head, considering his words. "I didn't notice anything like that. He seemed… intense, maybe, but not in a bad way."

James snorted softly. "Intense, yeah. That's one way to put it. He just gives me this feeling, like he's one of those people who'd do whatever it takes to get what they want."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "You do realise that description could apply to half the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Including you?"

"Oi," James protested, though his grin flickered briefly. "I may be determined, but I'm not… calculating. There's a difference."

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to him. "Maybe you're reading too much into it. Or maybe you're just jealous because I didn't give you advice about O.W.L.s."

James smirked, nudging her shoulder playfully as they stepped out into the corridor. "Trust me, love, I'm not jealous. Just… keep an eye on him, yeah? Something about Barty Crouch doesn't sit right with me."

Hermione glanced back down the hall where Crouch had gone, a thoughtful frown tugging at her lips. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll keep that in mind."

But as they walked on, her thoughts lingered on James's unease, the weight of his words sticking with her longer than she expected.

The Forbidden Forest was unusually quiet under the full moon, the crisp autumn air heavy with a sense of watchfulness. Kitten the ermine darted along the ground, her sharp ears swiveling at the faintest sound. Padfoot prowled beside her, his large black form moving silently through the underbrush, while Prongs strode at the front, antlers gleaming in the moonlight.

Moony padded ahead, his ears flat and his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. Wormtail scurried behind them, his small form making barely a sound. Suddenly, Moony stopped dead in his tracks, his growl low and dangerous, his amber eyes fixed ahead.

The group stilled. Emerging from the shadows, a herd of centaurs stepped into the clearing. Their powerful forms gleamed faintly under the moonlight, their bows slung over their shoulders but their hands resting close to their quivers. The leader, a silver-maned centaur with piercing eyes like the night sky, stepped forward. His gaze swept over the group, lingering on Moony.

"Animal mages," the centaur intoned, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. "And the cursed one."

Moony growled again, his hackles rising, but he made no move to attack. The centaurs, unmoving and unreadable, stood firm. Padfoot let out a low, cautious bark, his tail lowered to show he meant no aggression.

"You bring danger into our domain," the silver-maned centaur said, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Do you think the moon's wrath can be tamed so easily?"

Prongs pawed at the ground, dipping his antlers slightly in what might have been an attempt at an apology. Moony, while still agitated, seemed to pick up on the cautious energy of his companions, his growling softening into uneasy whines.

Another centaur stepped forward, his expression stern. "You walk a perilous path. The cursed one's scent disrupts the harmony of the forest. We should not permit such transgressions."

Padfoot barked once, a sharp and clear signal of submission. Wormtail scurried to Moony's side, squeaking softly, as if to calm him. The ermine darted forward, circling the werewolf cautiously before retreating to the stag's side.

The silver-maned centaur observed them all, his gaze lingering on each Animagus. "You tread recklessly, disrupting forces beyond your understanding. Beware the balance you disturb."

Moony growled again, but Padfoot nudged him gently, his large frame pressing close in an effort to calm the werewolf. Wormtail darted between Moony's legs, distracting him with quick movements, while the ermine chirped softly, her small form darting ahead to scout a safe path.

The silver-maned centaur's piercing gaze locked onto the stag. "Lead your pack wisely, or risk the wrath of the stars."

With that, the centaurs turned and melted back into the shadows of the forest, their forms vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared.

The group stood frozen for a moment, the tension in the air thick. Moony let out a low huff, shaking his fur, but his growls subsided. Prongs tossed his antlers lightly, motioning for the group to move on. They reformed their protective circle around Moony, careful to stay close as they made their way deeper into the forest, heading toward the relative safety of the Shack.

Once they were well away from the clearing, Padfoot barked softly at Prongs, who nodded in return. The encounter had been unsettling, but they were lucky to have escaped without further incident. Wormtail scurried ahead to scout, and Hermione darted after him, her small form quick and nimble.

The early morning light filtered into the Shrieking Shack, casting long shadows across the creaking floorboards. Sirius, now back in human form, was pacing the room, running his hands through his messy hair as he vented. Remus sat slouched against one of the walls, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Though he was pale and clearly exhausted from the transformation, his amber eyes were alert as he listened.

"Centaurs," Sirius huffed, throwing his arms up. "Absolute bloody dicks, the lot of them. All high and mighty, prancing about with their cryptic nonsense. 'Beware the balance you disturb,'" he mimicked in a dramatic tone, rolling his eyes.

Hermione, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to James, gave Sirius a reproachful look. "They weren't wrong, though. We do disturb the peace of the forest when we bring Moony out of the Shack."

"I don't need you agreeing with them, Kitten," Sirius retorted, flopping into a battered armchair and glaring at the ceiling. "They could've just left it at a warning. No need for all the dramatic flair."

"They're centaurs, Padfoot. Drama is their thing," James chimed in, leaning back against the wall with an easy grin. "And, to be fair, we probably scared the hell out of them. A werewolf and four Animagi wandering their territory? Not exactly subtle."

"Not to mention," Hermione added, "we were lucky they didn't decide to take action against us."

Remus let out a low chuckle, his voice hoarse but amused. "I'd like to hear the part where you didn't antagonise them. Because I know you, Sirius."

"Antagonise them?" Sirius repeated, feigning offence. "I was a picture of restraint, Moony. I didn't even growl back when they called you 'the cursed one.'"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I might've... muttered something under my breath about how they think they own the forest. Though I doubt they understand dog barks."

James laughed, shaking his head. "You're lucky they didn't shoot you with an arrow."

"Pfft, they wouldn't dare," Sirius said, crossing his arms. "Besides, I was too busy keeping Moony from launching himself at them. You're welcome, by the way."

Remus smirked faintly. "Thanks, Padfoot. Next time, maybe don't provoke the magical beings that could kill us in one shot."

"Noted," Sirius muttered, though his grin betrayed his lack of remorse. He glanced over at Hermione, who was rummaging through her bag. "What're you looking for, Kitten?"

She pulled out a small flask and handed it to Remus. "Water. You need to stay hydrated after the full moon." Then, with a wry smile, she added, "And Sirius, maybe you should take a sip too. Being around centaurs clearly gets you worked up."

James snorted, ruffling his hair. "If centaurs are this bad, imagine if we ever run into merpeople."

Sirius groaned, flopping back into the armchair. "Don't even joke, Prongs. I'd rather deal with another Death Eater ambush than merpeople."

Remus chuckled softly, leaning back against the wall. "Somehow, I believe that."

"Luckily, no danger of merpeople, unless you lot decide to take Moony for a swim in the Black Lake," Hermione said, her voice laced with amusement as she shot a playful look at the group.

"Don't give them ideas!" Peter piped in, his voice high with mock horror.

Sirius shot him a look. "Don't worry, Wormtail, if that happens, we'll just let you swim with the grindylows. They'll take care of you."

Peter's face turned white as he scrambled to hide behind a nearby chair. "I'm fine on land, thanks."

Hermione burst through the door to the Head Students' quarters on an early October evening, her bag slung over one shoulder and a scowl etched across her face. She kicked the door closed with her foot and dropped her bag onto the nearest chair with a huff. James, lounging on the couch with a Quidditch magazine in hand, looked up, his hazel eyes widening slightly at her clear irritation.

"Bad day?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

Hermione didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stalked over to the small kitchenette, flicked her wand to start the kettle, and then turned back to James, crossing her arms. "One of the Slytherin prefects—Avery, this time—asked to swap patrol shifts again. That's the third one this week." Her voice was tight with frustration. "It's like they're organising some silent rebellion against me. As if I don't have enough on my plate."

James frowned, setting the magazine aside. "What's their excuse this time?"

"Something vague about 'conflicts' with their schedules." Hermione rolled her eyes, pacing back and forth. "But it's not about the shifts, James. It's me. It's my being a Muggleborn." She stopped, biting her lip. "It started off fine after the train meeting. They seemed to respect my authority, or at least tolerate it just based on competence. But it's as if they suddenly remembered fifth year and the outing of my blood status…" She trailed off, her expression clouded. "It's as though they can't stand the idea of answering to someone like me."

James stood and crossed the room to her, his face darkening with anger on her behalf. "They're absolute prats," he said firmly. "Every one of them. You're twice the witch they'll ever be, and they know it. That's why they're pulling this rubbish—because they can't compete with you."

Hermione sighed, leaning back against the counter. "Do you think Lily would've had to deal with this if she'd been Head Girl?" she asked softly, her gaze distant. "She is Muggleborn too. But maybe they would respect her more because she had been a fellow—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," James interrupted, his voice firm. "This has nothing to do with respect or merit, Hermione. Lily would've faced the same nonsense, and you know it. Slytherins like Avery don't need an excuse to be bigots."

She gave a small, tired smile, appreciating his support but still feeling the weight of the day. The kettle whistled, and she turned to pour herself a cup of tea. Before she could take a sip, James gently took the mug from her hand and set it on the counter.

"Come here," he said softly, turning her by the shoulders and guiding her to the couch. "You're carrying too much tension. Let me help."

"James, I'm fine," she protested half-heartedly as he pushed her down to sit.

"Sure you are," he replied, already kneeling behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, firm but gentle, and he began kneading the knots with practiced ease. "Blimey, Hermione, you're like a rock up here. No wonder you're snapping at Slytherins."

She huffed out a reluctant laugh. "I wasn't snapping."

"Tell that to your shoulders," he quipped, his thumbs digging into a particularly stubborn knot.

Despite herself, Hermione let out a sigh of relief, her eyes fluttering closed. "Alright, maybe I was a little snippy."

"Thought so," James murmured, his voice softer now. His hands worked their magic, the tension in her muscles melting away under his touch.

Hermione tilted her head back slightly, allowing herself to relax. "You're too good at this," she muttered. "I should be suspicious."

"I have my talents, due to Quidditch mind you," he said with a grin she could hear in his voice. "Now stop talking and let me work."

The massage gradually slowed, James's hands lingering as they slid down her arms. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Feeling better?" he asked, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

Hermione turned her head slightly, their noses brushing. "Much," she whispered, her heart skipping as their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. James pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"Oi! Prongs!" Sirius's voice rang out as the door banged open.

They broke apart instantly, Hermione's cheeks flaming as she scrambled to sit upright. James groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "Sirius, do you have the worst timing on purpose, or is it a gift?"

"Depends," Sirius said, smirking as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "I need the Cloak. Fancy lending it to your favourite Marauder?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at James. "Why did you give him the password to our dorm, exactly?"

James winced, shooting Sirius a look. "I didn't! He must've—"

"Overheard it," Sirius finished breezily, grinning. "What can I say? These ears are sharper than they look. Being a dog does have its perks sometimes."

Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands as James muttered under his breath about meddling best mates.

"Don't worry, love," Sirius added with a wink. "I'll bring the Cloak back safe and sound. Eventually."

As the door clicked shut behind Sirius, Hermione let out a laugh—soft at first, but it grew until it bubbled into a genuine, helpless giggle. James raised an eyebrow at her, then chuckled as well, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Feels like home, doesn't it?" he said with a lopsided grin, leaning back into the couch. "Except instead of Tilly storming in to protect your virtue, it's Sirius playing knight in shaggy armour."

Hermione groaned, though the laughter still danced in her voice. "Oh, don't remind me. I can't bear another lecture about propriety. Honestly, I'd rather face the Slytherins."

James smirked, leaning in closer. "You're telling me you don't miss Tilly bursting in, hands on her hips, giving me the evil eye and insisting I stand a metre away from you at all times?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Not when she threatened to report us to your mum for merely sitting on the same couch. That was overkill."

"Hey, don't knock Tilly's dedication to her cause," James teased. "She was practically a one-woman army of chastity enforcement."

Hermione laughed again, swatting at his shoulder. "You're impossible."

"And you're beautiful when you laugh," James replied smoothly, catching her hand and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. "Now, where were we before Padfoot's dramatic interruption?"

Before Hermione could respond, there was a faint knocking sound from the direction of the door. Both froze, their heads snapping toward it. James groaned. "If that's Sirius again, I'm hexing him."

Hermione shook her head, stifling another laugh. "Let him in before he decides to barge in without knocking. Again."

James sighed, the grin tugging at his lips betraying his amusement. "Unbelievable. My life is like a bad comedy," he muttered as he crossed the room to check the door.

To his mild surprise, it wasn't Sirius standing there—it was Remus, looking slightly sheepish as he shifted a rolled-up piece of parchment in his hands.

"Hey, James. Sorry to bother you," Remus said, glancing past him into the room. "I was wondering if I could borrow one of Hermione's Ancient Runes books. Alice and I are working on a translation, and she's convinced we're missing something in the rune chart references."

James raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Alice dragged you into studying Ancient Runes? That's new."

Remus gave him a tired smile. "Let's just say she's determined to get it right and doesn't trust my notes." He looked over James's shoulder. "Is Hermione here?"

"Of course," Hermione called from the couch, standing to retrieve a book from her neatly arranged shelf. She handed it to Remus with a small, knowing smile. "This one has the updated rune charts, unlike most of the books in the Library. The appendix should help clarify the regional rune variations."

Remus took the book with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Hermione. You're a lifesaver. Alice is going to have a field day with this." He hesitated, then added with a dry smile, "And I appreciate you being more agreeable than my study partner. She's currently winning every argument."

"Well, Alice does have a sharp eye for details," Hermione said with a laugh. "She's probably right more often than not."

"She'll love hearing that," Remus replied, shaking his head. "Thanks again. I'll bring this back as soon as we're done."

As he turned to leave, he glanced back with a wry grin. "Oh, and good luck with Sirius. He's been loitering around the Tower, talking about 'big plans.' I think he mentioned something about testing the Cloak again."

James groaned, shutting the door after him. "Of course he did. That's exactly what I need—Sirius and his 'big plans.' He's like a walking chaos charm."

Hermione, sitting back on the couch, gave James a pointed look. "And this is exactly why you shouldn't have let him have the password to our dorm."

"For the last time, I didn't give it to him!" James protested, dropping onto the couch beside her. "He just knows things. He's Sirius. If there's a secret, he'll sniff it out."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "So you're saying Sirius is some kind of human sneakoscope?"

James grinned. "Exactly. And you can't really stop him—he's a force of nature."

"More like Sirius the Sneak," Hermione said, her tone teasing.

James laughed, wrapping an arm around her. "True. But he's also Sirius the Best Friend Who Interrupts Snogging Sessions, so maybe we should put up a few new wards."

"Wards he'll probably just charm his way through," Hermione quipped with a smirk.

"Don't remind me," James groaned, leaning his head against hers. "Living with you and him is going to turn me into a prematurely grey old man."

Hermione chuckled softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "If that happens, I'll still love you—though I might let Sirius borrow the Cloak just to annoy you."

James let out a long, dramatic sigh, but his grin gave him away. "Traitor."

Hermione turned to him, her expression finally relaxed, the corners of her mouth lifting into a teasing smile. She placed her hands on his chest, leaning in close.

"Now, where were we?" she murmured, her voice low and playful. Before James could answer, she tilted her head up and kissed him, soft but lingering.

Just as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer, there was another knock on the door.

James let out an exaggerated groan, his forehead dropping to hers. "You have got to be kidding me."

Hermione sighed, stepping back and folding her arms as James stomped to the door, muttering something about locking it permanently and adding a sound dampening charm. He yanked it open to reveal Peter, looking slightly out of breath and very nervous.

"Er—sorry," Peter stammered, wringing his hands. "But, um, Sirius sent me. He said you had the Map, and he needs it for—" Peter paused, catching sight of Hermione behind James. His cheeks flushed bright pink. "Uh, sorry to interrupt."

James leaned heavily against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course he sent you. Let me guess, Sirius has some grand scheme, and the Map is crucial to his 'big plans,' yeah?"

Peter gave a weak chuckle. "That's about it." He hesitated. "You do, um, have it, don't you?"

James sighed, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the folded parchment. He shoved it into Peter's hands without a word. "Tell him not to send you back for anything else, or I'll use the Cloak to hide his dead body in Filch's office once I get it back from him."

Peter blinked, clutching the Map like it might explode. "Right. Got it. Thanks, James!" He turned on his heel and hurried off, the door swinging wide open behind him.

James stood there for a moment, staring at the empty corridor, then turned to Hermione, his expression one of incredulous defeat. "I think the universe hates us."

Hermione, already trying to stifle a laugh, burst out into giggles. "You're right. It's a conspiracy. Clearly, we're not allowed even one peaceful moment."

James shut the door firmly this time, locking it for good measure. "Well, they can all bugger off," he said, striding back to Hermione with mock determination. "Because this time, no one is interrupting."

She laughed, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as he pulled her close again. "Bold words, Potter. Let's see if you can follow through."

Their lips met again, laughter still bubbling between them, when suddenly a loud BOO! rang out from right beside them. Hermione jumped back with a shriek, clutching James's arm as he swore loudly, his wand snapping into his hand.

From seemingly nowhere, Sirius materialised, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak with a flourish and a grin that could only be described as devilish. "Gotcha!"

Hermione's heart was racing as she glared at him, her cheeks flushed. "SIRIUS BLACK!" she shouted, her voice a mix of fury and disbelief.

James clutched his chest dramatically. "Bloody hell, Sirius! Are you trying to kill us?"

Sirius was doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face. "Oh, the looks on your faces! Priceless! Absolutely priceless!" He wiped at his eyes, still cackling as he threw the Cloak over his shoulder. "Best laugh I've had all day."

"You—how long—" Hermione sputtered, still trying to catch her breath.

"Oh, just since Wormy left," Sirius said cheerfully, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. "Nice of him to play along and leave the doorway wide open so I could slip in unnoticed."

James groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill you, Padfoot. Slowly. Painfully."

Hermione jabbed a finger in Sirius's direction. "You're impossible! I'm banning you from this room."

Sirius grinned wider, utterly unrepentant. "Aw, come on, Kitten. You'd miss me."

Hermione turned to James, her eyes narrowing. "I'm changing the password."

"I'll just overhear it again," Sirius said with a shrug, tossing the Cloak to James. "Now, if you're done, I'll take my leave. Places to go, mischief to make."

He gave them a cheeky wink before slipping out the door, leaving it wide open behind him as he went. James stared after him for a moment before shutting it then slumping back onto the couch.

"I'm never kissing you again," Hermione said, trying to keep a straight face.

James grinned, pulling her into his lap. "You can't resist me, love."

Hermione rolled her eyes but leaned in anyway, her lips hovering just above his. "Last chance, Potter. If Sirius jumps out of anywhere else tonight, you're sleeping in your own room."

James smirked, his hands sliding to her waist. "I sleep in my own room anyway!"

"Good," Hermione quipped, her tone teasing.

But then James froze, his eyes widening slightly as her words seemed to register. His smirk deepened into something far more mischievous. "Wait… does this mean there would've been a chance of me sleeping in your room?"

Hermione's cheeks flared, but she shot him a pointed look, her lips twitching as if she was fighting a smile. "Not anymore."

James groaned dramatically, flopping back against the couch like a man defeated. "I ruin everything."

"You said it, not me," Hermione replied with a laugh, shaking her head as she stood. "Now, come on, Potter. You've had enough excitement for one night."

James grabbed her hand, pulling her back down beside him. "Excitement, maybe. You? Never enough."

She snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly but letting herself stay put, her head falling against his. "One more interruption, and I'm throwing you all out. You can sleep back in the boys' dorm if it even still has a bed for you."

"Noted," James said, lacing his fingers with hers. "And for the record, I'm definitely finding a way to earn back that chance in your room."

Hermione sighed, but her soft smile gave her away. "You're impossible."

"And you're stuck with me," he replied, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

"For better or worse," Hermione muttered under her breath, though the warmth in her tone said she didn't mind at all.