AN: Hello, FF and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 85

May 16, 1978

James stood down the aisle in handsomely tailored dress robes, his messy hair finally tamed with bottles of Sleekeazy. He fixed his tie for the nth time as he bounced on the balls of his feet, barely containing his excitement.

The guests rose and looked down the decorated aisle as the quartet played the Wedding March in all its romantic glory. Gasps of awe could be heard as Lily appeared, happiness brimming from her face.

Sirius couldn't help but smile as he smacked James's shoulders as if to say, "Mate, this is fucking happening! You're about to marry the love of your fucking life!"

Normally, James was the type to mirror his best friend's enthusiasm, but at that moment, he was struck with admiration, loving tears welling in his eyes. The only response he could manage was to grab Sirius's hand on his shoulder as reassurance to himself that this was all real and truly happening.

Lily was always beautiful, but today, she glowed. The gown whispered of old-world romance, its delicate lace shimmering softly in the light. It was a vision of ivory elegance, clinging gently to her frame. Its high neckline was adorned with intricate floral lace that traced delicate patterns across her collarbone and shoulders. The long, fitted sleeves, sheer with fine lace, extended gracefully to her wrists, where scalloped edges framed her hands like the petals of a blooming flower.

The bodice, carefully sculpted, cinched at the waist before flowing into a full cascading skirt that drifted to the floor in soft elegant folds. The fabric had a gentle sheen, catching the light with every subtle movement as she walked down the aisle. Over her head, a veil of fine tulle edged with the same intricate lace as her gown cascaded down her back, framing her face like a halo. Her red hair was parted on the right to hide some of the scar tissue left behind by the fire, but it was styled well to soften her features, lending her an ethereal air as if she had stepped out of a dream and into reality.

As she stood before James, she passed her bouquet made of white lilies, soft pink Hermione roses, and blue petunias to Mary, her Maid of Honour. With her hands free, the couple reached for each other, their gaze tearfully steady. He took her in, the very essence of timeless beauty—frozen in a perfect moment.

Professor McGonagall's stern eyes were unimaginably soft at the sight of her two students coming together after all these years.

"Good afternoon, everyone." She officiated, her teaching voice easily grabbing the attention of every single guest with ease. "As we gather here today, I am both honoured and somewhat surprised to be officiating the marriage of two individuals who, over the years, in their own way, have kept me on my toes.

James Potter and Lily Evans—today, you stand before me and before those who love you most, not as two separate beings, but as two souls who have, over time, found one another in a way that only true love can bring. I have had the privilege of watching both of you grow, not just as students but as people—people who have chosen to walk through life together. And that, in itself, is quite remarkable.

Lily, you have always been known for your brilliance, your kindness, and your ability to stand up for what is right. James, while you certainly have your fair share of… enthusiasm, it is evident that your heart is as large as your sense of humour, and you've shown great courage in fighting for the things you care about.

You have seen one another at your best and your worst, but in all my years of watching you both, I have never doubted that this is the right choice for both of you. You have chosen to stand here today, bound by love and the commitment to make one another better with every passing day. That is something truly worth celebrating.

And now, in front of your friends, your family, and all of us who have witnessed your journey together, I ask you both to say your vows."

Lily raised her wand to her throat and let out a shaky breath. James squeezed her tight with assurance.

"James," her voice trembling at the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. "I can hardly believe that I'm standing here before you, with our family and friends witnessing this moment, as we commit ourselves to each other through love amidst a world full of chaos and hatred. People have called us crazy, and maybe they're right. I find myself wondering if we are, that the House that we affiliated ourselves with for years confused us with bravery that is actually foolishness."

A few people chuckled in the crowd.

"But the thought of waking up one day and finding you not there, of letting fear steal precious moments from us, terrifies me more than anything else. The idea of letting possibility steal from our reality is far scarier than facing whatever this world throws our way because I know what we share is real. I'm not saying the world beyond us isn't, but with you by my side, I know we can not only survive what comes—we can conquer it."

The crowd full of brave—or foolish—Gryffindors whooped!

"I promise to hold you through every storm, to laugh with you through every joy, and to always remind you that we are not just together by chance, but by choice—every day, every moment.

I vow to never take our time for granted. I will cherish each second because, in your eyes, I see a lifetime of possibility, a future built on love, not fear. I will learn to love you more deeply with each passing day, and even when life feels uncertain, I will remind you that my love for you is a constant. I promise to nurture what we have, to protect it fiercely as we lions do, and to always honour the love that brought us here today.

James, with you, I feel like I can face anything. I will walk beside you, not just through the good, but through the wretched, knowing that together we are stronger. Today, I give you my heart, my soul, and my promise to love with all that I am, for all that I will be."

A soft glow started radiating from Lily as her vows took place.

James let out a soft sob, blubbering from Lily's beautiful vows, "Damn, I really should have gone first."

The crowd chuckled as Sirius dramatically pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it over to his friend.

After taking a moment to find his composure, James cleared his throat.

"Lily, my love, standing here with you today feels like a fever dream, yet I know it is real. I've dreamt of this day from the moment we were 11, when you barged into our compartment on the Hogwarts Express. I was taken by you from the moment I saw you. It was you; it was always going to be you. But despite having imagined all of this since I was a prepubescent little boy with a voice 2 octaves higher, nothing can compare to what this really feels like.

I've spent so many months wondering how I could possibly find the words for these vows, not because of my lack of love for you, but because the depth of my love for you seems beyond what words can express. I wasn't sure if any words in the English language could do it justice, so please excuse me if I fail today, but I promise you that I will use the remainder of our lives to make it up to you.

Lily, I vow to hold you in silence, in laughter, in joy, and in sorrow. I promise to be your rock, your shelter, and your greatest support, no matter where life leads us. I will be your strength when you feel weak, your fire for the coldest nights, and your solace when you feel lost.

I pledge to love you with quiet strength, no longer needing to be that loud, arrogant toe rag from years past because I have found my heart's counterpart. I am no longer shrouded with the desire to prove my worth and my love. Through you, I've come to realize that love isn't about grand gestures like asking you to be my girlfriend in front of the entire school during Quidditch finals; it's about the way your hand feels in mine, the way your eyes look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. It's the quiet and the loud, the simple and the complex. It's you, Lily, exactly as you are, and I vow to love you for every beautiful, complicated, imperfect part of you.

Today, I choose you, not because you are perfect—although you look bloody perfect—but because you are perfect for me. I will choose you every day. I will love you with every breath, in every moment, for all the days of my life."

James glowed with the same soft light as Lily had when she had completed her vows.

The crowd was a torrent of touched tears, with sniffles being heard from every seat.

The couple locked eyes, more in love than either could describe. "It was perfect," Lily mouthed.

McGonagall tried clearing her throat to push the emotions back, which Sirius responded to by dramatically pulling out another handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to their beloved professor.

Everyone let out watery laughs.

"The rings?" McGonagall asked as she snapped the handkerchief out of Sirius's cheeky hands.

Mary stepped up to the altar, careful not to trip over her long, light blue dress, to hand a small velvet box to the couple.

"As you exchange these rings today, you are not merely making a gesture, but rather, a promise. These rings symbolize your love, your commitment, and the unity that you now share."

Lily took out a golden band with intricate swirls and placed it on James's ring finger. James took out the smaller silver band with the same designs. His thumb rubbed her hand, pausing at the scar left behind by the Fiendfyre. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckle before sliding the ring onto Lily's finger.

"James Potter, do you take Lily Evans to be your wife, to love her, to stand by her, through all the challenges life may bring, with the same devotion and loyalty that you have shown time and time again?"

"I do."

"And Lily Evans, do you take James Potter to be your husband, to share in all the joys, the triumphs, and yes, even the messes of life, with the same love and determination that have brought you both here today?

"I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me, not only as a professor but as someone who has seen the strength of your bond, it is my greatest pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. James, you may kiss your bride."

Everyone roared with applause, and the cheers were deafening when the two kissed to finalize their union. Confetti burst at that exact moment, spilling petals into the air. The newlyweds broke apart, gaping as they looked up at the flutter of petals falling romantically. The Marauders nudged each other at a job well done, remembrance for their pranking days. James and Lily smiled with gratitude as they kissed once more in a shower of petals. A flash from a camera captured the beautiful moment for years to come.

…

Sirius stood on the balcony, watching the wedding from a distance, idly blowing rings of smoke into the cool evening air. Below, the celebration raged on—laughter, music, clinking glasses—life trying to carry on past the ruins of the war, at least for tonight.

"You've gotten really good at that."

James clapped him on the back, making Sirius spill ash into his Firewhiskey.

"Oi!"

James grinned unapologetically. "Give me one," he stretched out a hand toward Sirius's pack of cigarettes.

Sirius snorted. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know exactly what you're doing. That ridiculous muggle reverse psychology bullshit. 'Oh, maybe if I pretend I want to try it, he'll feel guilty and quit.'"

James held a hand over his heart. "Come on, I'm serious! I want to try it."

"Prongs, first of all, I'm Sirius, and second—respectfully—fuck off."

James pouted, but his sulking was short-lived as his gaze drifted to the dance floor. Lily twirled, her red hair catching the light, her white dress billowing with every movement. She was radiant, and James's expression softened into something almost reverent.

"Dad would have loved the fact that you guys chose to do this in the Manor, by the lake of all places," Sirius hummed. "He would have drunk all of us under that table and danced all night until Mum dragged him away to bed."

"Well, I certainly hope he likes this since he was the one who suggested it to Lily."

On the dance floor, Lily coaxed Remus to dance with her. Sirius shook his head, amused at how effortlessly she pulled people out of their shells. Peter asked McGonagall to dance, which their Head of House gladly accepted, but he quickly realized he was way out of his depth. McGonagall proved to be a brilliant dancer, nagging at Peter to lift his feet. They chuckled.

"I saw the empty chairs," Sirius spoke quietly, scared that the topic would ruin the mood, but he wanted to know.

"It was Lily's idea," James nodded, his smile turning slightly more sombre. "We agreed that they deserved a seat at the ceremony."

There had been 8 empty reserved seats at the front, 7 on Lily's side and 1 on James's. A silent testament of the weight of their absence and the effects of war.

One was for Lyana, the first amongst them to fall—the death that had told them the war was real, and it was here, right under their noses. Lily and the girls draped her chair with Lyana's school uniform and pinned an overwhelming number of photos, each capturing different pieces of the life she had left behind and all those she left behind with it.

The next three were also uniquely decorated, with two side by side, for Lily's parents. Ivy's was woven with vines and wildflowers, while Rob's had tiny vintage sports cars racing around silently. Petunia's chair was decorated with snippets from fashion magazines and the same blue petunias that were in Lily's bouquet.

The next three chairs were oddly barren compared to the first four.

Severus Snape's chair bore nothing but a single framed photograph of Lily and Severus as children. They were knee-deep in the dirt, playing in the backyard of her childhood home, which had burned to ashes. It was one of Lily's few surviving possessions from the fire, one she had kept hidden away in her school trunk.

The sixth empty chair was placed closest to the aisle. It had no decoration, no pictures, nothing to indicate who it was reserved for, but everyone knew, just like how everyone knew who was supposed to stand as Lily's Maid of Honour and walk down the aisle with Sirius. But those invited to this wedding knew better than to say a single word. Hermione Evans was a ghost in every sense of the word—mentioned nowhere, yet haunting everything.

The last empty seat, next to Mary and Marlene's, was the one reserved seat that everyone had secretly hoped would be occupied, hence the lack of decor. Although Alice Griffins had RSVP'd no, everyone wished she would change her mind and attend.

No one blamed Alice for distancing herself. How could they, when Alice received that letter from the Ministry, they were all there that day. They had seen their sweet and kind friend faint at the news and the horror on Lily's face when she realized who was directly related to the tragedy. Even after Lucas Griffins's death, sweet Alice never spoke a negative word to or about Lily. They had an unspoken agreement to respect the space needed to mourn and cope, but they also knew that 7 years of love and friendship didn't simply disappear. Alice had sent the couple a card, congratulating them and wishing Lily love and a happy life in recompense, but still… Lily had hoped.

"Seven," James whispered. "Seven empty seats and barely 10 guests on her side. You know, when I proposed, I was worried about the guest list? I thought I'd have to invite all of Hogwarts and then some. But after the 3 Days of Messages, people Lily had known for 7 years turned their backs on her, even though she's innocent."

Sirius nodded, understanding. Lily was funny, smart, extroverted, and friendly. If shit hadn't hit the fan last year, this quiet and quaint little wedding would not have sufficed.

"All the people Lily had helped, cared for, and supported during their tough times, not a single one of those bastards fucking cared enough to reciprocate the love she showed them."

"Yeah…" Sirius nodded, remembering how Lily had spent her last year at Hogwarts. It had been a rude awakening on how malleable people could be, how quickly public opinion can change and how greatly it could affect one's life.

"I mean," the volume of James's voice started to rise as he remembered their difficult final year. "She was the bloody Head Girl for fuck's sake, but those damn prefects, never showed up to the meetings if she called them and then had the fucking audacity to petition for her to step down!"

Sirius placed a heavy hand on his best friend's shoulder, urging him to settle down. There was no need to rehash painful memories, today was a happy day. He stared at the cigarette in his hand before offering James a toke.

"Really?" James's brows lifted with surprise. He glared suspiciously but thought it was a gesture of friendship. He reached for the lit cigarette, but just as his fingers were about to wrap around it, Sirius dropped the stick.

"You motherfu…" James watched the cigarette fall to the grassy floor, hidden by a bush at the bottom of his family's gardens. "Sirius!"

"Live a long life, Prongs," Sirius laughed. "Don't pick up bad habits like smoking. Instead, live a long and healthy life because you will be Lily's family. You will be her friend, her confidant, her everything. You alone will need to fill those 7 empty seats, mate. That's one hell of a thing to live up to, but thankfully, you'll have the rest of your life to do it, so live a long and disgustingly sweet life."

James let out a laugh, appeased by his friend's rare show of wisdom. "You mean we."

"Hmm?"

"We will be her family."

"We… Yeah, I guess." Sirius's face turned playful. "I'll help you fill those seats until others come along."

"Others?"

"Of course. You guys are marrying young. Plenty of time and energy to pop out as many little ones as possible."

"Don't get Lily started with that. She wants a whole litter of 'em."

"Well, if she wanted a litter, she picked the wrong Marauder." Sirius wiggled his brows, which earned him a smack.

"I guess you're doing fine if you're cracking jokes like that."

"Were you here to check up on me, Prongsie?" Sirius hugged James and made a kissy face. "Should I warn Lily that she has some Sirius competition?"

"Ugh!" James pushed Sirius away but couldn't hide the laughter in his voice. "I'm going back downstairs to my wife."

"Ah!" Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be wounded by his words.

"Don't stay here alone too long." James patted Sirius's back and rejoined his wife for a dance.

Once James was gone, the smile on Sirius's face slid off. He stayed on the balcony for one more cigarette, watching his two close friends dance, their foreheads touching, love pouring from their eyes as they gave each other Eskimo kisses. They were so goddamn happy… and he was… not. He was disgustingly happy for them, of course, but he wasn't happy.

"A whole litter, huh?" He muttered to himself. "I guess after losing so much, I don't blame her for wanting a big family."

His mind drifted to a time when he dreamt of such things, which led him straight to the forbidden sister, the one no one was allowed to speak about. He still remembered her in that beautiful dark blue gown that she wore, both of them so overdressed for the most hippie wedding he'd ever seen.

His body reacted to the thoughts of Hermione Evans. His heart ached, his hands trembled, and his body burned with love and anger. He wanted to hit something, so instead, he took a long drag from his cigarette.

A brief flutter of images flashed through Sirius's mind of a different redheaded woman in a beautiful white dress, walking down the aisle with one of her rare smiles. She would have chosen a simple and elegant dress. It would have been timeless. Her wavy hair would have been styled down and decorated with a few flowers. He would have given her every goddamn jewellery in the Black coffers, but she would have chosen flowers. His vows would have left him a blubbering happy man with all of its comedic and flowery mess of overwhelming joyful emotions; hers would likely be as beautiful as it was succinct.

While he promised her the world and everything in it, he wondered what promises she would have made him. What promises could a girl who couldn't even promise to open up give him?

You will be safe. That was the only goodbye she had given to her parents.

"What if I want something more than safe, Hermione?" He asked aloud.

Instead of rejoining the party like James had suggested, he walked around the place he had called home since being kicked out by his family from Grimmauld Place. The Potter Estate was decorated for the wedding, but the decorations were humble for a wealthy family like the Potters. Even simple things such as flowers had become a luxury with the war ongoing.

He lit another cigarette.

Deep in thought of a future that never could be, he watched as the smoke rose into the night air, the stars twinkling above them. There was a crescent moon that sat just above the treetops in the distant forest.

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

Just by the tree line, Sirius's Animagus canine eyes detected something hidden in the dark.

…

Lily sat down panting, her feet were starting to ache from all the dancing.

She was thanking one of the elves as she grabbed a flute of champagne off a serving tray and massaged her calves when a figure stood in front of her, causing a long shadow to obstruct her view.

"Miss Evans," Esther Bagnold pushed herself in a wheelchair towards her with a small smile, "Or, I guess it's now Mrs. Potter."

Lily watched the decorated Auror wheel herself next to her with a struggle, but she made no move to help her. The prideful and independent woman's autonomy had been ruined since her rescue. There were whispers of how much the suave and collected Auror had changed since her capture, shrouded in trauma, bitterness, and anger.

If anyone here knew how trauma could change people, it was Lily. She had witnessed for years how Hermione could go from sweet and caring to cold and distant within seconds, the only indicator being the unfocused glazing of her eyes.

Lily greeted her with a weak laugh. "Potter…" she muttered, "That's going to take a while for me to get used to. Thank you for attending; it means a lot to James and his mother."

"Well," Bagnold's smile wavered. "The late Mr. Potter was a good man."

"He really was," Lily nodded.

They fell into an awkward silence, neither able to address the elephant in the room.

Instead, Lily found her eyes dragging across the wheelchair that Bagnold sat in. The residual effects from physical torture caused significant injury to her spine. After intensive magical and medical intervention, she should have regained 80% of her lower body functions but still couldn't walk. James had heard from others that the reason she couldn't walk was psychological.

"I hope…" Bagnold trailed off, "I hope you don't hold any grudges to the Griffins family for not attending."

"No!" Lily jumped to reassure her. "Of course not. I would never." Her smile weakened as she heard the deep sigh of relief from the auror.

Bagnold, still sharp with her instincts from her auror days, noticed the wavering expression.

"Your sister…" Bagnold spoke after a tense silence. She glanced from side to side, her shoulder bunching up from anxiety.

Lily's heart started to race with dread. There was a part of her that didn't want to know how her sister was involved with the horrors of what happened to the woman in front of her and the death of Alice's brother.

"She was not there. Except for the first message, she wasn't there for any of it."

Lily blinked, clutching her chest.

"But don't look so relieved. From what I understand, she was integral to the whole plan." She looked away as she whispered, "I can never forgive her."

"R-Right. I'm so sorry—"

"Don't apologize, I'm not so broken to blame the innocent. I know you're not involved with Hermione Evans, least of all, her plans. You haven't been in your sister's life for the past 3 years."

Lily audibly swallowed, trying to cover the hurt from her sharp observation.

Bagnold looked at her with pity. "You should be glad she ousted you as she did. If the DMLE had any inkling that you were still in contact with your twin sister, you would have been interrogated for information," her eyes narrowed, speaking a silent warning, "by any means necessary."

Lily slowly nodded. "Thank you for telling me all of this, Miss Bagnold."

"Please, call me Esther." However, Lily seemed uncomfortable at the request. Bagnold's eyes softened once more. "You look beautiful today. Congratulations."

…

Sirius started to run towards the treeline but was slower than usual. His dress shoes were stiff, and his dress robes even more so. This time, his human eyes detected a flash of red. Desperate now, Sirius threw off his shoes and tore his jacket.

It was a fox; Sirius was sure of it.

The quick little creature ran through the woods with ease, not once stopping, regardless of whether he tripped or got cut by the trees. He lost sight of the little creature during one of his tumbles.

"HERMIONE!" He shouted into the night, clutching his leg in pain. He felt a warm liquid slowly ebbing down. There must've been a deep gash, but he didn't care. Sirius tore off the rest of his clothes and transformed into his Animagus form. He used his sensitive nose to try and get a whiff of the little fox but smelled nothing.

How could an animal leave no scent trace? How?

"HERMIONE! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! COME OUT!" He spun around, trying to get a glimpse of the red fox fur or those human eyes. "Hermione, please."

Sirius sank to the ground.

"Please."

…

Her beady little eyes watched under the cover of darkness from the treetops.

Sirius looked so small, crouched on the floor. He was clutching his knee in pain; he had landed quite hard on the floor chasing after her. He could have ripped something, maybe broken something.

She could hear his pleas and cries. They were mixed with yearning and anger. He still wanted her, perhaps even believed he needed her, but the sense of betrayal was clear.

She could feel the urge to rush to him, to collect him in her arms, heal him, and beg for his forgiveness, then promise him forever.

Do it, he urged. If you introduce him to me as your pet, I might allow it.

Voldemort's voice was like the devil whispering in her ears, the loudest one that seemed to push everyone else away. Anytime she didn't fully Occlude, he barged into her mind like an uninvited guest. She had been too lax, allowing the emotion of watching her sister's wedding—even from afar—to affect her Occlumency.

Soon, the thick fog of Occlumency clouded her mind like an impenetrable steel wall, separating what she was seeing from her memories and feelings. Hermione could feel herself somewhere beyond the fog, screaming, crying, and kicking herself. Maybe it was her conscience, or maybe her heart? Either way, it would settle down eventually.

A single tear escaped through the impenetrable wall.

Although she knew not to, she glanced back at Sirius, weeping on the forest floor. He was so broken, lying there in the dirt, ruining his handsome face. The screams from beyond the fog grew louder and louder the longer she watched him. She clenched her fists to dig her nails into her palm.

No, no good would come from him seeing her like this; it would only cause more heartache.

The little fox escaped to the outer edge of the Potter property, turning back to her human form when she was sure that no one was around.

She had missed running.

Hermione had forgotten what life felt without pain, how freeing it was, how much easier it was. She forgot that breathing didn't always involve a sharp stabbing pain at her side, or that her chest and abdomen didn't always have to have a consistent deep throbbing ache. She could enjoy food again, savouring rich and indulgent flavours to her heart's content. She forgot what it was like to wake up with no sensation of nausea that required a bucket next to her bed each morning.

Hermione no longer needed a glamour charm every day. Everything about her appearance returned to 'normal' within a few weeks after the ritual. The yellow tinge in her skin had gone, leaving her skin as porcelain as she had been as a child. The bluish tint to her lips and fingernails was now pink and healthy. Even the dark circles she had had her entire life mostly faded to a reasonable amount of discoloration.

The most drastic change, however, was the sleep.

Ever since her body housed Voldemort's soul, the obscurus had calmed and settled. The darkness and corruption within the fraction of his soul were enough to satiate her relentless parasite. She could sleep. Merlin, she could finally just sleep.

The relief was enough to bring her to tears.

It was the first time she had a good rest since dating Sirius. If Sirius's love and warmth had comforted her damaged soul by lulling her to sleep, Voldemort's fragmented soul had filled her cracks.

Of course, she still had nightmares. Just having another soul didn't mean her trauma disappeared. Nightmares would always be the one consistent factor in her life, but at least the worst that happened was waking up in a cold sweat, not in a ruined house. That was enough.

"Where the hell have you been, Evans?" Rabastan Lestrange sat in her chair in the Nott library, waiting for her. "You're missing the party."

Hermione didn't bother to look up as she removed her muddy boots. "You and your friends' depraved little gathering is hardly what I consider a party."

"I even brought male whores for you."

"How generous," she deadpanned.

She could feel his eyes leering, but she didn't react. Sadly, she had gotten used to his perverted gaze.

"You need to learn to get along with everyone. You can't expect to go on missions or lead as our Lord's 2nd-in-command without any friends."

Hermione threw her cloak onto his head, treating him as nothing more than a coat hanger. She snatched her research from his fingers with an annoyed sigh, "Keep your grimy hands out of my business."

She walked out of the Floo corridor, directly entering the 'party'. Women and men in various states of undress sat on Death Eater laps or carried trays of questionable drinks.

Hermione's keen eyes recognized a few faces. She glanced down at their wrists to see them still wearing their security bracelets, but she didn't know who it reported to since she no longer wore her black one. Hopefully, these workers were being safe and cautious around these animals.

"Angel?" A hand tapped her shoulder.

Hermione's expression never changed as she turned around to see Rain. Her old Deepest Desires had cut her long black hair into a fresh short cut; it suited her features and made her look more youthful. Her dark skin glowed in the dim light, accentuating its softness.

"Oh," Rain removed her hand, "I'm sorry, you… You reminded me of someone."

Hermione could feel the eyes of everyone there, some curious, some suspicious, and some ravenous. She had 'serviced' many of the men here tonight: Rosier, Goyle, and Lestrange, just to name a few.

"I… look like someone you know?" She asked, boldly stepping forward to Rain. "Why would someone like me set foot in a place anywhere someone like you is familiar with? I remind you of someone? Why would someone like me associate with someone like you?"

Rain's eyes twitched at her rudeness, but Hermione didn't relent, daring the woman to associate herself with Angel a second time.

"Y-You're right, my lady," Rain immediately ducked her head, unable to withstand Hermione's frightening eyes. "I was mistaken. I'm sorry."

"Don't give her such a hard time, Evans," Rosier threw his arms over both their shoulders, pulling them towards the seats. "Let Rain here, give you a drink as a proper apology."

"I don't—" but she was already pushed to the sofa. If Hermione fought this any harder, she would look suspicious, so she sat, took the empty glass from a dark and handsome stranger. Maybe one of those male sex workers hired on her behalf.

"What would you like, my lady?" Rain asked.

"Wine."

"Oh, come on, Evans," the Death Eaters scoffed. "Drink something harder."

"Wine," Hermione glared. "Or I leave."

There were mutters of displeasure, but soon, Rain had a bottle of wine in her hands and poured it into her glass.

Hermione sipped her wine and watched them enjoying themselves, allowing herself to be a fly on the wall. Every once in a while, one of the male sex workers (even a bold female worker) approached her with a seductive look, but they all ran away with their tails tucked between their legs at her glare. Eventually, everyone settled down and returned to their previous distractions before she appeared.

The Death Eaters were having fun, but no one was as fully relaxed as they allowed themselves to appear. Some were handsy and continued to test the boundaries of the workers, but no one had crossed the line yet. These aristocratic Death Eaters were all like this; behind closed doors, it was a free-for-all, but they needed to save face in front of their peers as fellow members of the gentry class.

Some, like Rabastan Lestrange, were holding back their depravity and cruelty. Others were hiding their true desires, like Goyle, who played with the hair of the girl who sat in his lap, even though Hermione knew he would rather have been the seat itself. Rosier was purposefully taking shots out from the cleavage of a busty girl when she knew he preferred the company of the handsome men in the room.

Then there were men like Dolohov, who never even showed his face in Deepest Desires. He had the one desire that Verma and Hermione were never willing to provide.

He walked towards her with a friendly smile, holding a bottle of wine like it was a peace offering.

"Do you know the Étoile d'Ysée? It's a rare, wizarding wine produced in the Loire Valley. The grapes ripen under the full moon."

He showed her the bottle as he sat down next to her.

"Only 12 bottles per decade and can only be purchased at exclusive wizarding auctions. This pretty bottle was sold to the Notts at 1200 Galleons back in 1934."

"And Nott is going to be fine with you opening this bottle to give to me?"

"Probably," Dolohov popped the cork, "I gave him a Sang du Phénix. Even an ancient and noble House like mine only has 3 bottles of Sang du Phénix in their cellars."

Even a wine-ignorant person like Hermione knew what a Sang du Phénix was. 'This year I want to take a sip of a Sang du Phénix.' was Kingsley's yearly birthday wish.

She let out a low whistle at the hefty and generous gift. She wondered what kind of deal had been passed for Dolohov to pass on such a heirloom.

He chuckled, pouring the wine. It shimmered in the crystal, shifting between a deep sapphire and amethyst.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hermione gestured to the party as she swirled the supposed expensive wine.

"Hmm, no," Dolohov shook his head.

No, Hermione didn't think so either. It was a well-kept secret that Dolohov's tastes ran young, very young. But Verma ran 2/3rds of Knockturn's prostitution rings, and even if she didn't own the remaining 1/3rd, there was no way whispers of underage prostitutes would have slipped by Verma's ears. If Dolohov was being satisfied, it wasn't from service within Knockturn.

Hermione made a mental note to surveil the muggle towns nearest to the Nott and Dolohov Estates, listening for rumours of young girls getting attacked in broad daylight, but not remembering anything from the attack itself.

His eyes travelled to her. They felt disgusting, as usual, but they weren't as alight as they were when they raked over her 15-year-old body, dancing at the Yule ball.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Evans? Is this your type of entertainment?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I think you all have deeply troubling issues that stem from an improper childhood and terrible parents, not to mention a highly likely genetic disposition to madness. I recon, instead of whores, you all need a miracle therapist. Multiple miracle therapists. Maybe even a lobotomy."

Dolohov chuckled into his wine glass.

"Is that what you are to us? Our miracle therapist? Are you actually here to try and save us from ourselves, Mudblood, with your proper childhood and good parents? Make us love impure-blooded people like you and your sister, make us believe your kind are equal to us?"

Hermione swirled the wine before downing the whole glass in one go. She set the empty glass down the sharp clink, tilting her head as she studied Dolohov. Her smile was slow, sharp, and predatory.

"Oh, Antonin," she drawled, her voice laced with amusement. "I don't need to save you lot. I just need to outlive you."

With that, she stood, glancing behind her one more time to ensure everyone was behaving.

Hermione walked to her room. She prepared for bed, the most exciting part of her daily routine because now she could actually sleep. Washing and changing into sleep clothes had become a soothing ritual as the promise of rested bliss inched closer. She lay in comfortable sheets, probably with a thread count she couldn't imagine. She closed her eyes but didn't sleep. Hermione never slept when others were awake. Too scared of the consequences of trusting others too much. Instead, she listened to the sounds of the party fade one by one and even waited for the elves, who tinkered about to clean up after their masters, to finally go to bed.

Only in the early morning, when the house turned silent, did Hermione finally allow unconsciousness to sink in.

The dreams were the same. What had changed was her reactions to them. In the past, she was too busy screaming in terror to really look, too frozen by fear to pay attention, but after accepting Voldemort's soul, she could easily detach herself from the horrors in a way that she knew was abnormal. But once she was able to step back from all the screaming, crying, and her dead friends and family, she was able to notice things from her memories that she had never noticed before.

That day, when she first witnessed possessed-Harry, gods, she could barely see the difference. If the situation had been different, she would have been fooled just like the rest of her friends and family. But once she grew accustomed to the pain of watching her past life with a cool detachment that had never been possible before the soul transfer, Hermione started noticing things about possessed-Harry. He held himself differently. Harry was a type of quiet confidence, never cocky or arrogant. Then there were the eyes. A fast flicker of movement that happened occasionally, so quickly you'd have to stare and watch for quite some time to ever notice.

Her eyes peeled open like clockwork when an elf quietly stepped into the room with her breakfast.

Hermione's morning greeting was cut short when she noticed the elf was not holding her breakfast, but clothes. She was being summoned.

She quickly scourgified her mouth and splashed some water on her face before getting dressed in her dark robes as ordered. She walked to the dining room where most of the Death Eater meetings occurred in Nott Manor to notice how quiet it was. Normally, there was a throng of Death Eaters milling about, walking in and out of the manor as though it was their home, but today, it was unsettlingly quiet.

"Ah, my Flower," Voldemort smiled as he greeted her as she walked in. It appeared as though she was the last to arrive.

"Apologies, my One. I was not made aware of a meeting this morning," she bowed as she rushed to her seat next to him, ignoring all the glares she received as she walked passed some of Voldemort's obsessive devotees.

"I know you have your hands quite full with research and planning, so I wasn't going to tell you, but I had no idea you had connections with our newest recruit."

"Recruit?" She glanced down at the long table. As far as she knew, this was the entire group of Death Eaters during the first war. She didn't see any missing faces.

"Show her," Voldemort ordered. Rosier stood from his seat, looking sickly green from a hangover. He reached down from beneath the table and pulled a cage.

A little brown rat scampered in the cramped cage, squeaking.

"I'm told you know this little rat?"