The rest of the holidays passed by in a hazy blur. Hermione all but disappeared into the Potter Manor library, tucking herself away between the towering shelves like a shadow among the ancient tomes. It wasn't spoken aloud, but everyone knew why she was there. After Diagon Alley, after Voldemort—after standing on the knife's edge of survival—Hermione retreated into the comfort of knowledge, where things could be sorted, understood, and controlled. No one had the heart to drag her out.
The library, with its quiet warmth and the scent of parchment, became her refuge. Hermione moved between stacks of books, reading until her eyes blurred, her mind chasing answers to questions no one dared to ask. She skimmed through grimoires for anything related to protective spells, scoured history texts for parallels to Voldemort's rise, and lost herself in magical theory to stop the replaying of curses and explosions in her head.
James ventured in a couple of times a day, a mix of concern and understanding in his hazel eyes. He'd appear at the edge of her desk or lean against the nearest bookshelf, saying nothing as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head or her cheek. It wasn't much, but it was grounding—like a silent reminder that she wasn't alone.
Sirius took a different approach. He stormed into the library dramatically one afternoon, flopping onto a couch nearby with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Merlin, Kitten, are you planning to solve the entire war on your own, or are you aiming for sainthood while you're at it?" Hermione shot him a half-hearted glare, which Sirius promptly ignored as he launched into a joke about Death Eaters being afraid of her hair. "You could just let it down and take Voldy out with one frizz-filled glare."
Despite herself, she smiled faintly, and Sirius grinned triumphantly before leaving her to her work.
Remus, as always, brought balance. He wandered into the library with a stack of books under his arm and settled across from her, opening his own notes as though he'd planned to be there all along. "Did you know Arithmancy suggests that a finite variation of Protego Totalum can be layered for exponential effect? I have a theory about its practical applications."
Hermione looked up, her interest piqued. "That would cause stability issues if you didn't account for magical interference."
"Not necessarily," Remus countered, a spark of curiosity lighting in his tired eyes. "If you layered it with an absorption charm to offset the rebound…"
They spent hours like that, tossing theories back and forth, their voices low but full of passion for the intellectual debate. It was the first time in days Hermione felt the fog in her mind begin to lift, the conversation pulling her focus back to something beyond her own fears.
No one tried to suggest that she do something unrelated. Not even Effie or Monty, who hovered with concern but seemed to understand that this was how Hermione coped—with purpose, with research, with logic.
By the time the holidays began winding to a close, Hermione realised that she had, in her own way, found small moments of peace. James's quiet affection, Sirius's levity, and Remus's steady companionship had all drawn her back, little by little, from the edge of her own spiraling thoughts. She hadn't solved everything—far from it—but when James appeared one afternoon to gently pry the book from her hands and declare it time for a walk in the snow, Hermione let him lead her without argument.
"About time you came up for air," he teased, tucking her gloved hand into his as they stepped into the frost-covered garden.
She squeezed his hand lightly, the cold air biting her cheeks. "It's your fault for having such an extensive library."
James grinned. "Next time, I'll hide the books."
"Don't you dare."
And as they walked through the quiet grounds of Potter Manor, the snow falling softly around them, Hermione realised that maybe—just maybe—she was starting to feel steady again.
Life back at the castle resumed its relentless pace as soon as they returned from the holidays. Between classes, Head Student duties, and Quidditch practice, James and Hermione hardly had a moment to just themselves. But as busy as the days were, nothing could quite prepare Hermione for the discovery she stumbled upon late one evening in the Hogwarts library.
It began with a particularly challenging assignment for the N.E.W.T. Ancient Runes students. Professor Babbling had set them the task of interpreting an obscure Norse incantation that revolved around runic applications for magical victory—a particularly daunting subject even by Hermione's standards. She, of course, had thrown herself into the research headfirst, determined to leave no text unexamined.
It was during this overzealous digging that she stumbled across Obscure Symbolism in Dark Magic Runes, an ancient, half-forgotten book tucked high up in one of the dustier corners of the Restricted Section. As her fingers brushed over the brittle pages, her gaze fell on the entry for Sowilo.
The information stopped her cold, as she read the elegant but ominous script..
"Sowilo represents ultimate power, victory, and the sun's inexorable triumph. It is associated with life force and energy but, in dark magic, twisted to symbolise the annihilation of obstacles through total destruction. It is no coincidence, then, that the wand movement for the Killing Curse traces the symbol of Sowilo—a perfect reflection of power's darkest pursuit. Legend holds that the rune has been tied to the ritual of soul-binding, its energies used to force a fractured soul into an object, creating an unnatural tether to the mortal world."
Hermione's heart stopped for a beat as she stared at the delicate diagram beside the entry—a sharp, zig-zagging symbol.
Her thoughts raced. Harry's scar.
It wasn't a lightning bolt. It was Sowilo.
The Killing Curse. The making of Horcruxes.
The pieces began to slot together in her mind, horrifying yet undeniable.
Sowilo was more than a simple rune—it was the symbol that represented the intent behind the Killing Curse, the essence of destruction and the force that bound pieces of a soul into an object. Voldemort hadn't just used the Killing Curse on Harry that night—he must have been preparing to use Harry's death to create another Horcrux.
But something went wrong, Hermione thought, her breathing shallow. The Killing Curse rebounded due to whatever Lily had done, but whatever preparation Voldemort had done for creating the Horcrux must have been underway already.
Hermione's quill slipped from her fingers, forgotten as she stared blankly at the book. That would mean that Voldemort, at this point in time, could not have more than five Horcruxes if his intention was to create six pieces, splitting his soul into seven parts.
Her mind whirled with implications. Voldemort's soul, so fragile and damaged, would have been clawing for equilibrium—an equilibrium that came only at seven. She had the sinking suspicion Harry had accidentally been made a Horcrux in her timeline because of this, probably without Voldemort even realising it. They will never know though, because she wasn't intending for history to repeat itself.
But more importantly, if her theory was correct, then the maximum number of Horcruxes Voldemort could have right now was five.
Five. The diary. The diadem. The cup. The locket. The ring.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, adrenaline buzzing through her veins. If this was true—if her theory held up—then they didn't need to hunt for some unknown sixth Horcrux, one they had no clue how to identify. There were three. Just three remaining to locate: the ring, the locket, and the cup.
The diary, at least, they knew was at Malfoy Manor. The diadem was already destroyed.
Her pulse raced as the weight of her discovery settled in. It wasn't over—not by a long shot—but it was something manageable. It gave them a direction, a real path forward.
Hermione snapped the book shut, tucking it carefully under her arm. She needed to tell James. And Dumbledore. Immediately.
Grabbing her bag, she darted out of the library, her shoes tapping sharply against the stone floor as she made her way back toward the Head Students' quarters.
Hermione practically burst into the Head Student common room, her hair flying around her face and her expression frantic. James, sprawled on the couch flipping through his Transfiguration notes, looked up in surprise.
"Hermione?" He frowned, sitting up immediately. "What's wrong?"
She paused, hands shaking as she braced herself against the arm of the couch, trying to steady her breath. "James, I need you to come with me. Now. We need to talk to Dumbledore."
James blinked, his confusion giving way to concern as he jumped to his feet. "What happened? Is it about the Horcruxes?"
"Yes," Hermione said quickly, tugging him toward the door. "I—I've figured something out, but I can't explain it here. Dumbledore needs to hear this too."
Without another word, James grabbed his wand and followed her out, their footsteps echoing down the empty corridor as they made their way toward Dumbledore's office. Hermione's pace was hurried, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel James's questioning glances, but he didn't press her, sensing the urgency of the moment.
"Lemon Sherbet," Hermione said breathlessly when they reached the stone gargoyle. It sprang aside, revealing the spiralling staircase, and they climbed quickly. Before Hermione could knock, Dumbledore's calm voice called out, "Enter."
The office was as warm and cluttered as always, but Hermione barely noticed. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his sharp blue eyes flickering with curiosity as he regarded them both.
"Miss Prewett, Mr Potter," he greeted, his tone gentle. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu visit?"
Hermione wasted no time. "Professor, I've discovered something about the Horcruxes. About... Voldemort's plan."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, his hands steepling as he leaned forward. "Go on."
Hermione glanced at James for support, who nodded, silently telling her to continue. She took a deep breath. "It started with the Ancient Runes homework," she began. "I was researching Sowilo. It's a rune that represents ultimate power and victory, which—incidentally—is the exact wand movement for the Killing Curse."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful, but he let her continue.
"The Killing Curse... and the making of Horcruxes. I think Sowilo is integral to both. And that's when I realised something about—" she faltered for half a second, then carefully continued, "someone I knew in the future. There was... a prophecy. Voldemort believed this child would be his downfall, and he went to kill him. I think—no, I know—that Voldemort was planning to make another Horcrux that night."
She looked directly at Dumbledore. "And I think he did. By accident."
James stared at her as the words hung heavy in the air, but Dumbledore remained perfectly still, waiting. Hermione pressed on.
"Voldemort's soul was so unstable by then—splitting it so many times, preparing another Horcrux would've left it fractured, raw. And then when he cast the Killing Curse... and it rebounded, somehow, a fragment of his soul latched onto the very child he was trying to kill. And left him with a Sowilo scar on his forehead, and a weird connection to Voldemort, including the ability to speak to snakes even though it didn't run in his family."
Dumbledore's expression shifted, something both solemn and deeply understanding passing across his features. "You believe this child became an unintended Horcrux."
Hermione nodded. "Yes. Which means Voldemort can't have more than five Horcruxes right now, if he is preparing to make a sixth one in the future."
James, who had been processing this alongside her, finally spoke. "So... that means we don't need to look for six. Just five."
Hermione nodded fervently. "Exactly. Or really four, given the diadem is already destroyed. And we already know the diary is at Malfoy Manor. The others—we need to find them, but at least we know what we're looking for."
Dumbledore regarded her for a long moment, his sharp gaze softening slightly. "Your theory is... remarkably astute, Miss Prewett. The evidence aligns far too well for this to be a mere coincidence." He looked toward James. "What you both have uncovered is invaluable. This changes the shape of our task."
"But what now?" James asked, his voice tense with resolve. "We need to find the locket, the cup, and the ring. Where do we even start?"
Dumbledore's fingers tapped softly against the desk as he considered. "I believe I may have some leads to pursue, but this revelation will undoubtedly bring us closer. I will continue my investigations into these artefacts, and I would ask that you both remain vigilant. If anything else occurs to you, no matter how small, bring it to me."
Hermione let out a shaky breath, feeling some of the pressure lift from her chest. "Yes, Professor. Of course."
Dumbledore's gaze lingered on her, his voice quiet but firm. "You have done far more than could ever be expected of you, Miss Prewett. And you as well, Mr Potter. The courage and insight you've displayed thus far are extraordinary."
James squeezed Hermione's hand as Dumbledore stood, signalling the end of their meeting. "Thank you, Professor."
As they turned to leave, Dumbledore spoke once more, his voice soft but laden with meaning. "The path ahead remains uncertain, but you have brought light into darkness. Never forget that."
They exited the office, the door closing softly behind them. Hermione released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, the enormity of her discovery still buzzing through her mind. James glanced at her, his hazel eyes bright with a mixture of pride and disbelief.
"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said quietly as they descended the spiral staircase.
Hermione managed a faint smile, though her mind was still whirring. "We're not done yet, James."
He slung an arm over her shoulders as they stepped back into the corridor. "No, but we're a hell of a lot closer than we were yesterday."
The night was crisp and clear, the cold air biting but invigorating as Hermione stepped into the snowy grounds with James, Sirius, and Peter. Ahead, the Whomping Willow stood still, frozen in its dormant state, the usual thrashing branches stiff under the weight of frost. The Marauders had decided that tonight, the full moon, they'd take Moony out of the Shack for a run. It was risky, as always, but with the countryside blanketed in snow, it felt more freeing than dangerous.
Hermione tugged her cloak tighter around herself as they approached the Willow. Sirius grinned at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Excited to be back, Kitten?"
"You have no idea," Hermione replied, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic lightness. The thought of slipping back into her Animagus form and leaving the complexities of human emotion behind, even if just for a few hours, was a comfort she hadn't realised she needed.
James placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, his hazel eyes warm and reassuring. "Ready?"
The group quickly worked to open the tunnel, Peter darting forward in his rat form to press the knot and freeze the branches. Once inside, they made their way through the damp passage, their footsteps echoing softly against the walls. At the other end, in the familiar confines of the Shrieking Shack, Remus was already there, sitting on the edge of the battered bed, his hands gripping the blanket draped over his lap. His face was pale, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead, but his gaze was steady as he looked up at his friends.
"You're here," he said simply, his voice tight but grateful.
"Always," Sirius replied, his tone light but warm as he took a seat on the floor near Remus. James leaned against the doorframe, his hazel eyes scanning the room as Hermione crossed to stand beside Remus.
"Anything you need before we start?" she asked softly, her hand brushing against his shoulder.
Remus shook his head, offering her a small, wry smile. "Just... don't let Moony get too far, yeah?"
"We won't," James said firmly, straightening. "We've got you."
The minutes ticked by, the tension in the room mounting as the moon began its slow ascent. Remus's breathing grew heavier, his hands trembling as he gripped the blanket tighter. When the first ripple of the transformation shuddered through him, Sirius and James immediately stepped back, giving him space. Hermione caught Sirius's eye, and he gave her a quick nod before all three of them began their Animagus transformations.
Sirius dropped into Padfoot's large, shaggy form, his tail swishing once as he padded forward. James became Prongs, his antlers brushing against the low ceiling as he moved to stand near the door. Hermione's form shimmered, shrinking down into the sleek, white ermine, her small body darting to the edge of the room.
As the transformation completed, Moony's hulking form stretched and shifted, his yellow eyes snapping open. For a moment, the werewolf stood still, his ears swivelling as he took in the sight of his pack. Then, slowly, his posture relaxed, his tail swaying low in recognition. He let out a low, rumbling sound that almost resembled a greeting.
Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. Moony seemed calm—welcoming, even. It was as if he had been waiting for them, the pack he had been missing. The werewolf stepped forward cautiously, nudging Padfoot with his snout before turning his attention to Prongs, who dipped his antlers in acknowledgment. Hermione darted forward, weaving between Moony's legs in a quick, playful movement. Moony huffed softly, the sound almost like a laugh, and nudged her gently with his massive paw. Wormtail ran a circle near the door, almost impatient to start the night already.
The pack was complete.
Outside, under the brilliance of the full moon, the group ran across the grounds, their paws and hooves crunching in the fresh snow. Padfoot and Moony wrestled in the drifts, kicking up powder as Prongs watched, occasionally tossing his antlers to scatter the snow. Hermione, in her ermine form, darted around their legs, her tiny body quick and agile, chirping with excitement. The simplicity of the moment—instincts and emotions unburdened by human complexity—was exactly what she needed.
She had been weighed down since New Year's, the confrontation with Voldemort lingering in her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake. But now, as her Animagus self, those thoughts faded into the background. The joy of running, playing, and being with her friends filled her chest with something lighter, almost buoyant. Moony, too, seemed more at ease, sticking close to the group and showing no signs of the restless energy that sometimes drove him to wander too far.
They made their way to the forest's edge, where the trees cast long, skeletal shadows in the moonlight. Moony slowed, sniffing the air, before turning back toward the Shack. He didn't seem inclined to explore further tonight, content to stay within the safety of their familiar bounds. Hermione felt a surge of relief—his instincts were guiding him to stay close, and that was safer for everyone.
As dawn broke, the group returned to the Shack, their forms shifting back to human in the grey light of morning. Remus, pale and exhausted but smiling faintly, slumped onto the worn mattress in the corner. Hermione wrapped him in a blanket, her own body still buzzing with residual energy from the night.
"You seem lighter," James commented softly as he passed her a steaming cup of tea they'd brought along in a charmed thermos.
Hermione nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. "I needed that," she admitted. "There's something... freeing about it. About not having to think, just feel."
"Yeah, there's nothing like it," Sirius said, stretching out on the floor beside Remus, who was already half-asleep. "No worries, no plans. Just the pack and the moon."
Hermione's smile grew as she looked at her friends. For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter. "Thank you," she said quietly, though she wasn't sure if it was for the night or for simply being there. Maybe both.
James squeezed her shoulder gently, his touch grounding her. "Always."
The Head Student common room was alive with chatter and laughter as Sirius levitated a banner above the fireplace that read, "Happy Birthday, Lilyflower!" in shimmering gold letters. It hung slightly askew, but no one dared say anything for fear of encouraging Sirius to make it worse with unnecessary flourishes.
Lily stood near the fire, her auburn hair glowing in the warm light, laughing as Marlene handed her a small parcel wrapped in deep green paper. James, sprawled on the couch with Hermione nestled against his side, watched from a distance, his expression a mix of warmth and mischief as if he knew something the others didn't yet. Hermione guessed it had something to do with whatever was in Sirius's hands.
"Not bad for a party thrown together in essentially two hours," Sirius announced, flopping dramatically into a chair next to Remus as he gave a look to Lily. They had been pestering her for days if she wanted to do anything special, but couldn't get a clear answer from her until after lunch today as if she wasn't sure what she really wanted, both keen to celebrate but pulled back by her conscience as a prefect. "Of course, my gift will steal the show."
Remus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Do I even want to know what you've done this time?"
"Relax, Moony," Sirius replied with a lazy grin. "It's tasteful. Well, tasteful for me."
Lily turned, holding a set of enchanted quills from Mary Macdonald. "I heard that, Black. Should I be worried?"
Sirius grinned, strolling over to her with a small parcel wrapped in bright red paper. "Absolutely not. Happy birthday, Lilyflower."
Lily gave him a wary look but unwrapped the package to reveal a beautifully illustrated cookbook titled Potion Potables and Edible Enchantments. Inside, he'd scrawled a cheeky note: "Lilyflower, now you'll have no excuse not to make me those chocolate cauldron cakes you brag about. Cheers, Padfoot."
The room erupted into laughter. Even Lily couldn't help but laugh as she shook her head. "You're ridiculous, Sirius."
"Ridiculously generous," Sirius corrected, winking at her. "Now you'll think of me every time you're in the kitchen. You're welcome."
Remus groaned, pulling Sirius back toward their corner. "Merlin's beard, Pads, let her enjoy her birthday without making it all about you."
As Lily set the book aside, she caught Hermione's amused look from across the room and rolled her eyes. "Your fiancé's best friend is an absolute menace."
Hermione laughed. "You're just now realising this?" Everyone else laughed at this as well.
As the laughter died down, an owl swooped into the room through the cracked window that they had opened for some ventilation in the overpacked room, landing gracefully in front of Lily. It extended its leg, and she hesitated before untying the small package it carried. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she examined the neat, precise wrapping.
"Who's this from?" Marlene asked, leaning over.
Lily unfolded the accompanying note, her expression tightening as she read it silently. Without a word, she set the note aside, taking a deep breath as if trying to curb her reaction. Carefully, she opened the package to reveal a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm intricately detailed: a flower, a potion bottle, and a small book. Her fingers brushed over the charms briefly before she snapped the lid shut and shoved the box with the bracelet into her bag.
"Snape," she said flatly, answering Marlene's unspoken question.
The room stilled. Sirius straightened, his posture tense. "Snivellus? What does he think he's playing at?"
Lily let out a sharp breath, crossing her arms. "I have no idea. And I'm not interested in finding out."
"You should've tossed it in the bin," Sirius said, his voice low but brimming with anger. "After what he said to you—"
"Sirius, not now," James interjected, his tone firm but measured.
Sirius ignored him, his gaze fixed on Lily. "He thinks he can just send you some shiny little thing and make it all go away? Unbelievable."
Lily's grip on her arms tightened, her voice steady but clipped. "I didn't ask for this, Sirius. I haven't spoken to him since fifth year, and I'm not about to start forgiving him now. But screaming about it isn't going to change anything."
Remus stepped in, his tone calm but authoritative. "Padfoot, let it go. Lily's handling it her way."
Sirius huffed, clearly unsatisfied but fell silent. Hermione glanced at Lily, who sat rigidly, her expression unreadable as she stared into the fire. The tension in the room lingered, heavy and unspoken, before Lily took a slow breath and stood.
"Let's get back to the party," she said, her voice deliberately even. "I'm not letting him ruin my birthday."
The group hesitated, exchanging glances, but eventually nodded. Sirius muttered something under his breath, but Remus nudged him forward, steering the conversation toward safer territory.
James lingered briefly behind, watching Lily closely before following the others, his hand slipping into Hermione's as they made their way back to the centre of the room. The tension in the air started to ease as Sirius, determined to lighten the mood, flicked his wand toward his record player he had brought down from the boys' dorm.
"Right," Sirius said, his tone bright and forced as he rummaged through a stack of vinyl records. "Enough of that. Let's get this party back on track." He selected a record with a flourish, spinning it dramatically between his fingers before sliding it onto the turntable.
Moments later, the opening notes of Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" filled the room. Released just last summer, the song had a driving beat that Sirius clearly loved, and he cranked the volume up slightly, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as the bassline kicked in.
"This," Sirius declared, leaning back against the arm of a chair, "is proper music. None of that enchanted warbling you lot call a party tune."
"Fleetwood Mac, huh?" James said, his brow arching in approval. "Not bad, Pads."
"Not bad?" Sirius scoffed. "It's brilliant."
Marlene nodded in agreement, grabbing Mary's hand and pulling her toward the makeshift space cleared as a miniature dance floor near the fire. "Finally, something worth dancing to!"
Even Lily seemed to relax a fraction, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched the group fall back into easy laughter and movement. Hermione leaned against James, letting the music wash over her as she took in the warm, if slightly chaotic, atmosphere of the room. For a moment, things felt normal again, the earlier tension fading into the background.
As the music played, Hermione nudged James with her elbow, a small, meaningful smile on her face. James caught her glance and nodded, reaching into his robes to pull out a neatly wrapped package tied with a silver ribbon. The two made their way over to Lily, who was still standing by the fire, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the box with the bracelet before she slipped it into her pocket.
"Evans," James said, his voice light but carrying a hint of sincerity. "We have something for you."
Lily looked up, her green eyes widening slightly. "You didn't have to—"
"Of course we did," Hermione interrupted with a warm smile. "It's your birthday, and you've been... well, you've been a good friend to both of us."
James grinned, holding out the package. "And, to be fair, Hermione picked it out. So you know it's thoughtful."
Lily accepted the package, her gaze flitting between the two of them. She tugged at the ribbon, the silver catching the light as it fell away, and opened the box to reveal a beautifully crafted leather-bound notebook. The cover was embossed with delicate patterns of vines and flowers, and in the bottom corner, her initials—L.E.—were subtly engraved.
"It's enchanted," Hermione explained, her voice soft. "The pages refill themselves, and it has sections for notes, sketches, and spells. There's even a spot that lets you organise everything by date or subject with a charm."
Lily ran her fingers over the cover, her expression softening. "This is... beautiful. Thank you."
James, looking surprisingly bashful, rubbed the back of his neck. "We figured you might appreciate something practical. You know, for all those brilliant charms and constructs you're always jotting down."
Lily let out a soft laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing as she hugged Hermione tightly, then offered a smaller, hesitant hug to James. "Thank you," she said again, her voice carrying a warmth that hadn't been there earlier. "This means a lot."
James grinned, his confidence returning. "Anything for you, Evans. Just don't forget who your favourite Head Boy is when you start using it."
Lily rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless, her fingers brushing over the notebook again. Hermione met James's gaze over Lily's shoulder, and they shared a small, satisfied smile. For once, the moment felt free of complications, just a simple gesture of friendship.
Sirius, grinning like a cat with cream, came back from making a quick trip back to the boys' dormitory holding a dusty bottle of Firewhiskey aloft. "Ladies and gentlemen, the real party begins now!" he declared dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and groans from those gathered in the Head Student dorm.
Lily's eyes narrowed, her prefect instincts kicking in. "Sirius Black, put that away before—"
"We didn't see anything," Hermione interrupted smoothly, giving Sirius a pointedly neutral look as she leaned casually against the arm of the couch.
James, lounging beside her with an arm draped across the backrest, nodded solemnly. "Nope. Didn't see a thing. You, Hermione?"
"Not a thing," Hermione replied with an exaggerated shrug.
Lily turned her glare on them, her lips twitching despite herself. "Really? This is how you uphold the sanctity of the Head Students' badge?"
James smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Sanctity? Lily, come on, it's a birthday. Even the Head Students deserve a night off."
Sirius waggled the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You heard them, Evans. The law of the land has spoken."
Lily crossed her arms, her stern façade cracking as her lips twitched upward. "Right. Well, if our oh-so-dedicated Head Students couldn't care less about rule-breaking, who am I to make a fuss?"
"That's the spirit!" Sirius cheered, uncorking the bottle with a flourish and pouring a generous measure into a set of conjured glasses.
As the drinks were distributed, Hermione caught Lily's eye and grinned. "You've got to admit, he knows how to keep things interesting."
"Interesting isn't the word I'd use," Lily muttered, though she accepted a glass with a resigned shake of her head.
James raised his glass, his hazel eyes twinkling. "To Lily Evans—may this year be full of chaos, laughter, and the occasional rule-breaking."
"To the one and only Lilyflower!" Sirius echoed, throwing an arm around Remus and raising his glass so high a bit of Firewhiskey splashed onto the floor.
Lily rolled her eyes but clinked her glass with the others, her laugh soft but genuine. "You lot are impossible."
"And proud of it," Sirius quipped, winking as he threw back his drink, earning groans and cheers alike. For better or worse, the night was in full swing.
As the party wound down an hour later (they did have a school day the next day after all), Hermione found herself sitting by the fire, sipping a cup of tea. Lily approached, sitting beside her.
"Thanks for putting this together," Lily said quietly. "And for... putting up with everything tonight."
Hermione smiled softly. "Of course. Happy birthday, Lily."
Lily hesitated, then added, almost shyly, "I'm glad it's you with James. He's... different now. In a good way."
Hermione blinked, caught off guard, but Lily didn't linger. She stood and joined Sirius and Remus, who were whispering conspiratorially in the corner, clearly plotting their next move.
Hermione leaned back, glancing at James, who was watching the scene unfold with a faint smile. The dynamics of their group had shifted in so many ways, but for now, they were holding together, however precariously.
The first Prefect meeting of February had been long and tedious, with the usual squabbles about patrol scheduling and complaints over corridor behaviour. Hermione remained calm and collected throughout, though her mind kept drifting to the Slytherin boy seated across from her. Regulus Black was a picture of composed indifference, his sharp features betraying nothing.
Hermione sighed as the prefect meeting came to a close, the last few stragglers filing out of the room. She glanced at the empty chair beside her, wishing James was there. His presence had always been a steadying force during these meetings, even if he could be distractingly cheeky. But with Quidditch practice rescheduled last minute as a favour to one of the other captains, he'd been unable to attend—a fact he hadn't been thrilled about. Then again, his absence did offer her the chance to do something she'd been meaning to for a while.
Straightening her papers, she glanced at Regulus, who had risen from his seat with his usual air of detached calm.
"Black, a word?" she called, her tone measured but firm.
Regulus turned, his expression unreadable, and arched a dark brow. "What about, Prewett?"
"Your patrol shifts," she replied evenly, gesturing to the chair he'd just vacated, glancing at the door as it shut behind the last person. "Sit."
Regulus hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering himself back into the chair with deliberate slowness. "I should have known you'd notice," he drawled. "I assume your enchanted scheduling board ratted me out?"
Hermione folded her arms, refusing to rise to his bait. "It's a tool, not a spy. And yes, it keeps statistics as explained when I introduced it, and your shift count is noticeably below the average. Care to explain?"
Regulus tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Not much to explain. I take what's assigned, just like everyone else."
"You take what's assigned," Hermione echoed, her voice calm but pointed. "But you're shirking the swaps. You're leaving others to cover for you without making any effort to pull your weight."
He crossed his arms, his smirk tightening into something colder. "And yet the world keeps spinning."
Hermione sighed, flicking her wand to cast a privacy charm. The soft hum of the Muffliato filled the room, and Regulus's eyes narrowed slightly.
"This isn't just about shifts, is it?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.
"No," Hermione admitted, leaning forward slightly. "I wanted to talk to you about the galleon."
His posture stiffened, but his expression didn't waver. "What about it?"
"You haven't used it this summer," Hermione said quietly. "Why?"
Regulus's mask of indifference didn't slip, but his fingers drummed against the table, a small, unconscious movement that betrayed his inner conflict. "Because there's no point," he said after a long pause. "There's no way out for me, Prewett. The moment I try to leave, I'm a dead man."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the galleon, placing it on the table between them. His hand hovered over it, hesitating as though deciding whether to push it toward her.
Hermione's breath caught, but she held her ground. "Keep it."
Regulus's sharp gaze flicked to hers. "Why? So you can cling to some naive hope that I'll magically change my mind?"
"Because you never know," Hermione replied firmly. "Circumstances change. Opportunities arise. And when they do, I want you to have this."
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You're relentless, aren't you?"
"And you're not as indifferent as you want everyone to think," she countered, her voice soft but unwavering.
Regulus's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he gave her a long, searching look before turning on his heel and walking out, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.
Hermione sat back down, the weight of the encounter settling over her. She ran her fingers over the table, wishing for James's presence but also knowing he wouldn't have approved of what she'd just done. For better or worse, she had made her choice. All she could do now was wait and hope.
A few days later, the Gryffindor common room was a hive of activity as the fire crackled warmly in the hearth. Amongst the chatter and the shuffle of parchment, Hermione was perched on a chair near the window, meticulously drawing up a colour-coded revision schedule for N.E.W.T.s. It was time. They only had a couple of months left until exams. Her quill scratched against the parchment with precision, her expression one of serene focus.
Sirius, sprawled across the sofa with his legs dangling off one end, smirked as he watched her. "You know, Kitten, that schedule of yours is the most predictable thing about this term. What's next? Timed loo breaks? Has Prongs been informed of his slots for snogging sessions?"
Hermione didn't look up. "Don't worry, Sirius. I'm not making you one."
"What about me?" James asked suddenly, sitting up from where he'd been lounging near the fire. "Will you make me one?"
Hermione paused, arching an eyebrow at him. "Will you use it?"
"No," James admitted shamelessly, his hazel eyes twinkling.
"Then why do you want one?"
"Because you make it," he replied with a crooked grin. "I kept the O.W.L.s one as well, you know. I should probably have it framed and hung in our bedroom."
Sirius groaned loudly, his dramatic eye roll nearly audible. "Prongs, mate, you're going to make me sick." Unable to handle the lovey-dovey atmosphere, he turned to Remus, grabbed him by the front of his jumper, and kissed him soundly.
The room erupted with laughter and a few wolf whistles, but Sirius ignored them. When he finally broke away, Remus raised an amused eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining, Pads, but maybe let me breathe?"
Sirius grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Can't deal with the sappy stuff otherwise."
Remus chuckled and smoothed down his jumper. "That said, I wouldn't mind one of those patented Hermione study schedules. They've worked wonders before."
Hermione smiled knowingly and reached into her bag. "I thought you might ask. Here you go, Remus."
She handed over a neatly folded parchment, already customised with his classes, study slots and usual patrol schedules. Remus unfolded it with genuine gratitude, scanning its contents.
Across the room, Peter cleared his throat nervously. "Er… Hermione?" His voice was uncharacteristically steady. "Could I, um, have one too? If it's not too much trouble."
Hermione blinked, then nodded warmly. "Of course, Pete." She pulled out another parchment and handed it to him, already prepared. "Here you go."
Peter accepted it with a shy smile, and Sirius gaped dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You made one for Wormtail but not me? Am I nothing to you, Kitten?"
"Didn't you just imply they are stupid and you don't want one?" Remus muttered under his breath, earning snickers from nearby students.
Sirius ignored him, sitting up with mock indignation. "I don't care. I demand one for myself as well."
At that exact moment, Lily Evans walked by, arms full of books. She stopped, arching an elegant brow. "What are you griping about now, Black?"
Sirius turned to her with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. "I want one of those colour-coded study schedules Hermione makes for N.E.W.T.s revision."
Lily sighed, setting down her books. With a flick of her wand, she produced a copy of her own schedule and modified it deftly with a few more charms, crossing out slots for subjects Sirius didn't take. She handed it over with a flourish.
"There. Problem solved."
The room fell silent as everyone stared at her, wide-eyed.
"What?" Lily said defensively. "Hermione isn't the only person who prepares colour-coded study schedules for themselves."
The common room dissolved into laughter, and Hermione shook her head fondly as Sirius examined his newly gifted schedule with exaggerated seriousness.
"You lot are unbelievable," Hermione muttered, though the warmth in her tone betrayed her amusement.
