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Chapter Text

Remus looked up at the sky. Dusk was settling in, and soon the transformation would take place. His mind was on Hermione, hoping she was okay. It wasn’t safe to be near her tonight for many reasons. 

First, and foremost, she was his mate. The call to claim her was worse during the full moon. He avoided her several days before the full moon because her scent, voice, and laugh called to him and drew him in. It drew him in every day, but during the full moon, it was so much worse to the point his skin itched, and his teeth hurt; he wanted her so badly. 

He would never tell her that she was his mate. He was a broken old man, even though James and Sirius said he was mental for not telling her. She was made for him. 

No. 

If he had met her while they were at Hogwarts, or closer to the same age, he might consider it. But, as the Moon Goddess was a fickle bitch, she gave him the perfect mate that was twenty years his junior. 

“I can hear you thinking, mate,” James said with a sigh. “You just need to tell her.” 

He growled low in his chest, and James raised his hands in supplication. 

“Suit yourself,” James said. “But, I think Hermione would be perfect for you. She’s intelligent and beautiful inside and out. Look what she’s done for us. She makes your Wolfsbane for you each month for free. She comes over and spends time with us, cooks for us. Hell, if you don’t want her, I’ll have a go at her.” 

Remus was on him the moment the words left his mouth. Remus was never a violent man; he preferred to use his wit instead of his fists, but the image of James with Hermione made his hackles rise. His nails dug into James’ neck, and he squeezed. He could see James’ eyes widen as he clawed at his hand ineffectually. 

“Knock it off!” Sirius yanked him off James and tossed him to the side. “If you want to fight him, wait until you’re not all wolfy. But James is right. Hermione is a catch. The bird is practically perfect.” 

Remus took a deep breath through his nose, and the air rushed out of his mouth. He was trying to control his temper. Intellectually, he knew that Hermione would meet that one bloke who would turn her world around, and she would fall in love. Of course, he would have to stand there and watch and support her, but on the inside, it would kill him. 

He was so in tune with her emotions. He knew when she needed a hot chocolate when she came home from work and had that look and feel about her. He would make her cocoa and sit in silence with her until she spoke. 

She was an unspeakable in the time department. Not many knew that; they were not even supposed to know that, but Kingsley had come to her when she was at Potter Manor, and with their excellent hearing, they had heard the conversation. 

They sat there in silence. Whiskey and beer bottles were scattered around them. Chocolate wrappers were stuck in his coat pocket, and he rubbed them as he stuffed his hands in there to calm himself. Maybe he had too much to drink tonight, but he was trying to numb the yearning he had for her. It was all-consuming, and he was trying to shake off the feeling. 

He wanted to shift, to change, and run to her. But, thankfully, here at Potter Manor, the wards were secure. No one could come in and out.  She would be safe from him tonight. 

He stood and looked down at James. “Sorry,” he said. “Touchy subject.” 

“I was out of line. I just wish you’d see how happy she would make you. She was made for you, Remus. She’s your mate!” 

“She deserves better.” 

“She deserves you . You don’t see the way she watches you, or the way she lights up when you walk into a room. She asks about you when you’re not here. She fucking loves you, Remus, and you’re being cruel by denying her.” 

He ignored him. Maybe he was being cruel, but it was for her own good. He couldn’t offer her anything. He could hardly hold a job because of the laws in place. How would he support her, or Godric forbid, any pups they may have? He wrote books and hardly made a living from them. It was enough to survive, but not enough to support anyone. 

No, it was for the best that he kept some sort of distance. He was content to watch over her from a distance and ensure she was safe. 

She was at Potter Manor tonight with Harry so that she would be safe. There were blood wards here, and they would be protected while he shifted and changed. How much trouble could they get into?

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Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed. It was a tiring day, and now she was worried about Remus. She knew the shift was hard on him. She just wished she could be an Animagus and shift with him. She could run with them and comfort him. But the moment she suggested it, Remus paled and almost screamed at her that it wasn’t safe. 

It cheesed her off. She was considered pack, and she knew this. He would never hurt her or Harry if they changed with them. They were marked as his. He would touch their arm, hair, and back to mark them with his scent so that he would know. So, why not change with him? 

Harry was quiet. He knew her well enough to know that her mind was working hard and needed to sort things out. What she needed to do was stay busy so she wouldn’t spiral. What if Remus got hurt? What if James and Sirius did? James was Harry’s only parent, and even though Harry was a grown man of 27, he still needed his father. 

“Let’s do something,” she said, sitting up. “Let’s start working on Remus’ Wolfsbane for next month.” 

“You want to work?” Harry laughed. “You just got home from work.” 

“I enjoy working in the lab, thank you very much,” she said with a sniff. “It calms me, the order of things.” 

He grunted as he stood and reached out a hand to her. She grabbed it, and together they made their way down to the lab. 

The Potter lab was a dream. It had been Harry’s grandparents’ house before they passed, and when Harry’s mother died protecting him, he and James moved here. Too many bad memories at Godric’s Hallow, James had told her. 

Hermione shucked her Unspeakable robes and tossed them onto the chair, and rolled her shoulders. She got everything ready that she would need, going to the ingredients that lined the wall. James had been kind enough to let her grow what she needed for Remus in his greenhouse. He thought it was a grand idea and would help tend to them, too, when some of the plants required a delicate touch. 

“What’s that?” Harry asked from across the workbench. He had a knife in his hand, the sharp tip pointing at her chest. 

She looked down and grasped the time-turner around her neck. “You know I work in the time room, Harry.” 

“Yeah, but, you’re like, using that, are you?” 

She chuckled and released it. The time-turner swung lightly against her sternum before it still. “No, I’m not. This is one of the ones I destroyed in our fifth year, remember? Crocker gave it to me to study. There is hardly any sand in it. It won’t work. If it did, I’d probably go back two seconds or so.” 

Harry stared at her for a long moment before he chuckled, too. Then several things happened at once. Harry flung his hands out and yelled, “Would it be like—Surprise!”, and the knife left his hand and slammed into the bubbling cauldron. 

Hermione let out a sharp yell when it tipped over towards her, and she tried to move out of the way, but slipped and fell. She raised her hands over her head to protect herself. 

The contents splashed against her chest, and she let out a scream of pain. She felt as if she were being tugged in several directions at once as the pain subsided, and the room twisted and blurred out of the way. 

She felt like she was shrinking. Her shoes slipped off her feet, and her arms fell to the inside of her jumper. The room kept spinning, and Hermione tried to twist her body, but all she could manage was a scream of fear and surprise. 

She was going to skin Harry when the room stopped, and she could get her bearings again. 

Then the world stopped. 

She panted out a breath and coughed. She reached up to her chest, and the time-turner that lay against her chest crumbled in her tiny hand. 

“What do we have here?” a deep voice said. “Where did you come from, little one?” 

Hermione blinked and opened her mouth to speak. Her clothes were falling off her, and her body felt too small, and she was trying to understand what had happened. She looked up at the man who was crouched in front of her, and all the words died in her mouth. 

Crouching before her was James’ father, Fleamont Potter. 

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Euphemia put her book down when she heard her husband come up from the lab. She blinked in surprise when he was carrying a little girl in his arms, wrapped in his work robes. 

“What is this?” she asked as she stood and crossed the room. 

“She appeared at my feet, just popped into existence.” 

“How odd,” she said. “Did she accidentally Apparate into your lab?” 

“There was no sound, and she’s not splinched. She just appeared without a sound. I brought her here to you, so we can figure out who she belongs to.” 

Euphemia raised her hand and swiped at the curls on the little girl’s face. She was crying silently and clutched to Fleamont like he was her lifeline. She must be awfully confused. 

With a sigh, she dropped her hand. “Let’s go to the office and do a legitimacy test, which should tell us who her parents are. I’m sure they must be worried sick about her.” 

“Good idea.” 

Fleamont tried to put the little girl down, but she shook her head and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, little one, we’re not going anywhere. Come, let’s get you sorted and back to where you belong.” 

The little girl let out a small sound of discomfort as they walked to the office. 

“Can you sit her for a moment while I get something to help you?” Fleamont asked as he tried to sit the little girl on the settee. 

“Yes, sir,” she croaked. 

She had a sweet little voice and manners, too. She was a darling little thing, but she was trembling as she sat there, looking down. Euphemia’s heart went out to her and moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her tiny frame and tucked her against her side. 

James walked in then, an apple in his hand. He took a bite and cocked his head to the side. “Who’s that?” 

“We don’t know,” she said. “She appeared in your father’s lab.” 

“Are we going to keep her?” 

“No, darling, I’m sure she has parents who are worried about her.” 

“Huh,” he said as he moved to the couch across from them. He stared at the little girl and smiled. “It’s too bad, I always wanted a little sister.” 

Euphemia’s stomach lurched. She had wanted a daughter, too, but the Gods wouldn’t grant their wish. They were older when they had James and had never fallen pregnant again. After awile, they stopped trying because it was just too much for her to bear. 

“Here we go,” Fleamont said. “I need a little bit of your blood for this special parchment. It’ll show us where  you come from, and who your parents are.” 

The little girl hesitated for a moment before she pulled back the long sleeves of the robes and gave Fleamont her hand. 

“Good girl,” he said. “This won’t hurt too bad. Just a little knick on your finger.” 

With gentle care, Fleamont took out his wand and pressed it against the girl's finger. She could feel the little girl tremble harder in her hold as the blood plinked against the parchment. 

Fleamont stayed crouched in front of them as the parchment flared to life. James, always being curious, stood beside his father and looked down. 

It was odd. When the paper flared to life, and it should have shown all the lineage that this girl carried in her, but all that appeared was a single name and a date of birth. 

Hermione ~ 19 September 1959. 

“How queer,” Fleamont said. 

“Do you think the parchment is defective?” Euphemia asked. 

“It shouldn’t be. I prepared these and tested one out myself. It worked fine.” 

“Can we keep her now?” James asked. 

The little girl snatched the paper and looked down. She let out a tiny gasp, and the parchment fluttered to the floor. 

“It’s okay, little one. We will take you to the Ministry, and they will get you sorted.” 

“It’s okay, dearest,” Euphemia said. “Let’s get you dressed and ready, and we’ll go to the Ministry. I’m sure they’ll figure out how to get you back home.” 

The girl sniffed and nodded. She still hadn’t hardly spoken, but she was likely in shock. 

Transforming the lab robes into something appropriate for her, Euphemia grabbed her hand, and together, as a family, they went to the Ministry to figure out who their mystery guest was.

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Hermione did her best not to panic. Why did the parchment show that she only had a first name, and her date of birth had changed? She never encountered such a thing while working in the time room. If she ever got back, which is very unlikely, Crocker was going to kill her. 

The Ministry was vastly different from her time. Everything gleamed and sparkled. The statue in the middle was the one she remembered from before. Not the grotesque statue of Muggleborns and creatures being crushed under the weight of the Pureblood society. 

She felt safe with the Potters. She knew they were good people. She had spoken to their portraits several times while at Potter Manor, and they had told her they considered her family for taking care of James and Harry. They even said to her that they wished she would marry Harry or James several times. 

Harry was like a brother, and so was James. She loved them dearly, but she didn’t feel the spark with them. The one person she did was Remus since her third year at Hogwarts. Over the years, the pull to be near him was almost painful. She wanted to be with him, to be his. But he never gave any indication that he felt anything towards her, other than friendship. It was frustrating. 

That is why she spent so much time at Potter Manor. She had a tiny flat in London, Muggle side, but James said he would feel better if she spent as much time as she could at the Manor and even invited her to move in, which she had been considering. 

James, Harry, and Sirius were Aurors, and she saw them frequently at the Ministry, although she couldn’t stop and speak to them, being an Unspeakable. But, they knew it was her by her build. They would smile and wave, and she would wave back.  Remus stayed home and became a writer. He had published a few books and was making a name for himself. She had read one of his books, a science fiction novel and enjoyed it. She should have known it would be science fiction as much as the grown men talked about Star Wars. 

She was proud of Remus and would often read silently with him in the library, discussing everything from politics to mundane things. Those were the best moments that she lived for. 

She felt tears sting her eyes as she moved through the Ministry holding Euphemia’s hand. She felt comforted in the fact that she hadn’t let go of her hand once, and would often give a gentle squeeze when Hermione seemed to freeze. 

Would she ever go home again and see Harry and the others? She doubted it. From what she knew of time travel, you had to get back the long way. There was one that managed to go back, but she died soon after because the ageing caught up with her, and Hermione didn’t wish to die. 

She was going to kick Harry James Potter’s arse if she ever got home. 

“Here we go,” Fleamont said, striding towards a desk. 

She shifted from foot to foot as Feamont explained that Hermione had just appeared at their Manor and handed the young witch the parchment that she had bled on. She sucked in a sharp breath as the witch studied her and motioned for them to follow her. 

When they arrived at the waiting area for the Unspeakable department, Hermione tried to relax and remember all her training. She couldn’t let them know she was from twenty years in the future. She did want to go home, but she knew what would happen to her. She would be studied and have no life of her own, or be given the Kiss because it was a “danger” to have someone here out of their time. 

She thought it was a bunch of rubbish. She knew that this was a completely different timeline. Things would progress the same; the fucking war would still happen, but if she were to marry James and have children, the world wouldn’t explode. Not that she would ever do that. She did love James as a brother. But the point stands. 

Different timeline. 

At least she had the knowledge of the First Wizarding War in her mind and could change things and make a difference. She would have to hunt down the fucking Horcruxes and destroy them. She would also have to protect James and Lily so Harry would have both his parents this time around. 

She wanted to laugh because she doubted she would meet anyone she would like, other than Remus, and she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t fancy her. He didn’t in the other timeline, so why would this one be different? She may as well start collecting cats. 

They entered the small windowless waiting room, and Euphemia sat her next to her at the large round table in the room. This was the room where they interviewed people at the Unspeakable department. Being surrounded by the fresh lemon scent and the polished table relaxed her. She knew what to expect. 

They would try to read her thoughts, but she had mastered Occlumency, and she also had to learn to tolerate Veritaserum. She was small now, maybe five or six, but she still held all the knowledge in her head. She just needed to be smart and play this game carefully. 

She almost fell out of her fucking chair when Crocker and Moody stepped into the room holding the piece of parchment in their hand. 

“Fleamont, Euphemia,” Moody grunted. 

He stood taller. Both his eyes were trained on her. He had no cane that he leaned on, for he had both of his legs. 

Holding perfectly still, she listened while the others spoke for her. She tried to keep herself scared, which was easy to do, and held onto Euphemia’s hand, gripping it tight. 

It was Crocker who addressed her. He looked down at the parchment and then back at her. “Hermione, is it?” he asked. “How did you get here?” 

She cleared her throat, and her small voice rang around the room. “I don’t know,” she said. “The first thing I remember was seeing this man, and he took care of me. I don’t know where I come from, or who my parents are,” she said. 

“Hmm,” Crocker looked at Moody. “Vertiserum?” 

“I think so. I’ll get it. Do you want to try to read her mind? Maybe something is blocked in there.” 

“I can try that.” 

“She’s just a girl and you’re treating her like a criminal!” Euphemia said. “Why?” 

Moody’s features softened. “Euphemia, we are simply trying to figure out where the little lass comes from so we can find her parents. The parchment tells us nothing. I promise we’ll be gentle with her.” 

Euphemia hurrumped and looked down at her. 

“I won’t let them hurt you, dearest.” 

James reached for her hand and took hold of it. “I won’t either,” he said. 

She thought it was sweet, but in character with James. He was always caring when it came to who he deemed friends. Which apparently he considered her a friend, because he wouldn’t stop looking at her or touching her. He wanted to keep her.

She didn’t know what she would do. She was far too young to get a job or a flat of her own. How she de-aged, she didn’t know. It must have been something with the time-turner and the potions combined, but it was just the base of Wolfsbane. 

Wolfsbane. 

Shite. It hasn’t been invented yet. She pressed her lips together, thinking of all the things she would have to do. Because when she meets Remus again, she would have fucking Wolfsbane for him. He shouldn’t have to suffer for years because it hasn’t been invented yet. She just wished she had her beaded bag with her with all her galleons and library. 

She was moved to face Crocker, and she pulled her shields around her and shoved the memories of the Potters and her arrival, the first time seeing Fleamont, to the forefront of her mind. Crocker was gentle with her, and she held perfectly still. He didn’t see her shield, thank fuck. She had been trained well and by Crocker himself. 

“How odd,” he said, pulling out of her mind. “The first memories, the only memories she has, are when she saw you for the first time. There is nothing before that.” 

Euphemia sucked in a sharp breath. 

Thank fuck she had been an Unspeakable. She wasn’t sure she would be able to trick Crocker and have the endurance to tolerate Vertiserum. 

Moody was the one who administered one drop of Veriserum. She sat there for several minutes and felt it take hold, but she was able to work through it. She could lie with this. She knew she could. 

“What’s your full name, lass?” Moody asked. 

“Hermione,” she said. “I don’t have any other name.” 

They all looked at each other. 

“Where did you come from?” 

“I don’t know. I only remember the nice man who helped me,” she said. 

The questions were simple, and she was able to answer them to suit her needs. 

Moody leaned back and crossed his arms as he looked at her. He looked sad as he watched her squirm under his scrutiny. 

“The only thing I can suggest is to send her to Wools, or a Wizarding Orphanage. We have no idea where she comes from.” 

“No!” Euphemia snapped as she shoved her chair back. “Fleamont and I will take her home with us. She shouldn’t be sent to an orphanage where she’ll be mistreated or abused. She has already been through so much.” 

“What?” Moody barked a laugh. “Are you going to adopt her?” 

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. You said it yourself several times. Constant Vigilance. What better way to keep an eye on her? What if she remembers something? Do you think the orphanage will listen to her?” 

“I see your point,” Moody said with a sigh. “Fine, she can go home with you and Fleamont, but if she remembers something, tell us immediately.” 

“How do we go about adopting her?” Fleamont asked. “We want to protect her.” 

“We can do that,” Crocker said. “We can do a blood adoption so she’ll be considered yours, if that is what you wish.” 

“Yes,” Euphemia said. “No one will take Hermione from us,” she said. “She is scared and needs stability. We agree to tell you if she remembers anything.” 

“Then so be it.” 

That is how Hermione became Hermione Euphemia Potter of the House of Potter. 

Chapter Text

“Papa?” Hermione was working in the lab with her father. Even though she was eleven years old, her father allowed her to work with him. He had been impressed with her knowledge, and she had to be careful not to show too much because she was technically still a child. She would be starting Hogwarts in a few short weeks and wanted to get the Wolfbane perfected for Remus. 

She was frustrated that she was still small and couldn’t be on her own, but she also felt childlike. Her hormones were starting to change as she grew into a pre-teen once again. 

“What is it, love?” he asked with a smile. 

“I’m working on something I’d like to call Wolfsbane, but I don’t know if it’ll work,” she said. “Do you know any wolves?” 

He raised a brow at her. “That’s a heavy endeavour,” he said. “First, we need to make sure it’s safe,” he said. “What is your process?” 

Her father had been wonderful about her experimenting in the lab, giving her all the ingredients she would need. The ones she could grow, he acquired the seeds for her, but the others, they had to buy, like Dragon’s blood. 

“I wrote it all down,” she said. 

She slipped the piece of paper across the workbench towards him and smiled. 

“Why don’t you go to your mother and practice your piano? It’s time for that, isn’t it? 

She looked up at the Muggle clock in the lab and frowned. She often lost track of time when working with her father. 

“I’ll take a look at your process, and we’ll discuss it at supper,” he said. 

“Mum said no business at the dinner table,” she said with a laugh. 

“Oh, I know, little dove, but just this once, I don’t think she’ll mind. She’ll want to know what you’ve been up to.” 

Hermione removed her gloves and lab coat and put them away as her father watched her. She toed off her dragonhide boots and slipped on her shoes. The one thing she wasn’t used to was dressing as a proper pureblood. 

Her new parents were amazing. Of course, she missed her parents, but the memory of them faded with each day that passed. She didn’t know if it was because she was a child again and her mind worked differently, or if it was due to her long absence from them. If she were in her original time, they would still be lost to her. 

She missed Harry the most, besides Remus. But James made it easier. He looked a lot like Harry, except for the eyes. The hazel eyes were beautiful, but it was off-putting. They were supposed to be emerald. 

She trekked up from the basement to the first floor and went into the music room. Her mother was waiting for her with James, who was trying his best to learn how to play. He didn’t have a knack for it, like Hermione did. But, to be fair, Hermione played the piano before and had to be sure not to be too good. 

Her mother was one to ensure her children were well-rounded. They had to learn a musical instrument, a foreign language, and also learn defensive spells. It made sense to Hermione; she was raising the next generation of Purebloods. However, her parents didn’t have the typical feelings about Muggles and Muggleborns. In fact, her father had several businesses with Muggles. 

Euphemia stopped her lesson with James and came up to her and placed her hands on her thin shoulders. “Hermione, love, you’re a little late.” 

“I’m sorry, Mum,” she said. “I was talking to Papa about my latest project,” she said. 

Her mum smiled indulgently at her and guided her to the piano. “Now, let’s see how you do today. James, would you mind giving your sister some room?” 

“I want to stay and listen,” he said. 

“Mum, why doesn’t James learn to play the guitar or violin since he doesn’t like the piano?” 

Her mother chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t know of any Purebloods that play the guitar.” 

“Muggles do,” Hermione said. “I saw a shop in the town we went to with Papa on his business trip. You can sign him up there,” she said. 

“Yeah, I like that idea. I hate the piano. Piano is for girls,” he said, scrunching his nose. 

“Darling,” she said as she smoothed out his unruly hair. 

“Please, Mum,” James said as he twisted on the piano bench. “Hermione and I can learn to play songs together.” 

Hermione snorted a laugh as their mum looked down at them. “Alright, I’ll speak to your father about it, but if we do this, you’ll need to practice at Hogwarts.” 

“I will! I promise!” 

Hermione grinned at James as she placed her hands on the piano and began to play. 

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James held Hermione’s hand as they walked down Diagon Alley, following their mother to get their school supplies. 

He didn’t mind holding his sister’s hand. They were the same age now, but she was so small he was worried that she would be lost in the crowd. 

“Time for robes, I think,” their mother said with a nod of her head. She was checking her list and made a note of all the shops they would have to visit. 

“Euphemia!” Their grandfather, Henry Potter, stepped into their path and gave a jovial laugh. “What a pleasant surprise.” 

“Dad, what are you doing here?” she asked. 

“I’m on the way to Gringotts,” he said with a wink at James and Hermione. “I might get extra to take these young ones out for some ice cream, if they’re up to it after all their shopping.” 

James bounced on the balls of his feet as Hermione giggled. 

“Well, we were going to get their robes measured right now. How about we meet you there at Florean Fortescue's after we’re done.” 

“That sounds splendid,” he said. He ruffled James’s hair and smiled as he passed them. He was excited about spending time with his grandfather, who was one of his favourite people, along with his Grandmother, Sophia. 

They made their way to the robe shop, and James was pleased there wasn’t a queue to get measured. There were just a couple of students milling about, looking at the robes and quietly talking to their parents. 

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed a young girl with hair the colour of fire. His heart skipped a beat, and he cocked his head to the side and watched her as she giggled at something her father had said. 

She nodded to the seamstress, his hand slipping from Hermione’s as he watched her. He didn’t notice until it was too late that she was stepping on the pedestal next to Hermione as they each got their measurements. If James had been paying attention, he would have gone in Hermione’s place and asked her her name. 

She was pretty. Her hair was long with a slight curl. Not curly like Hermione’s. She had a button nose and her eyes. They were like sparkling emeralds, jewels that men coveted. 

He folded his arms across his chest and frowned as he was guided across the room to the other side to get his measurements. He kept craning his neck trying to catch a glimpse of her. She and Hermione were chatting and laughing together. He wasn’t all that surprised that Hermione hugged the girl when they parted as if they were old friends. 

Curiosity burned in his gut as Hermione stood next to the door, waiting patiently for his turn to end. She gave him a broad smile when his eyes would flick to the girl, and then back to Hermione. It was as if she knew that he noticed the girl. 

James was eleven. Of course, he noticed girls. But the only girl he really knew was his sister. They did everything together, and he could honestly say that Hermione was his best friend. The day she appeared at their estate was the best day of his life. He had always wanted a little sister. She was several months older than he, but where she was so tiny, he could pretend that he was older. 

“Who was that?” he whispered to her as they left the shop. Again, he was craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the girl, but when the door firmly shut, she disappeared. 

Hermione threaded her fingers with his and bent her head close to his ear. “That was Lily Evans. First year like us. She’s a Muggleborn and is awfully excited to be going to Hogwarts.” 

“Muggleborn, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Hermione said in a clipped tone. “Do you have an issue with that?” 

“Not at all, I know I would have remembered her from all those boring parties we have attended in the past. She is kinda unforgettable.” 

“Yes,” Hermione said with a smile. “She’s nice, and I love her hair. It’s an unusual colour, isn’t it?” 

“Not if you met any of the Weasleys,” James mumbled. “They all have red hair.” 

“Oh, yes, them, too, but Lily’s is darker and prettier, I think.” 

“I think so, too,” James said with a nod. “Did you talk about me?” 

“I told her I had a brother who was attending Hogwarts, too. She asked if we were twins, and I told her I was seven months older than you, that I was adopted.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t tell people that,” he pouted. 

“Why? Does it embarrass you?” Hurt crossed her face, and he tugged her to a stop. 

“Now, listen here, Hermione. You are my sister, in blood. You are blood adopted. The same blood flows through me as it does you. Remember that.” 

Her bottom lip trembled, and he felt like a cad. He all but yelled at her, but it cheesed him off whenever she told anyone she was adopted. She was his. His sister, his best friend. He didn’t need anyone to give her the side eye because she was adopted. 

Since she came to live with them, her auburn hair had turned darker, almost the same colour as his. But her eyes would always be amber. He thought they were pretty, but he would never tell her that. She would never let him live that down. 

They started walking again and caught up with their mother just in time for her to wave down their grandfather and enter the ice cream parlour. He just wished Hermione would finally understand how much he loved her in the ways that mattered. He would always be her big brother, no matter what. It was a promise he made to her, and a promise he didn’t plan on breaking—ever. 

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Hermione sat back and enjoyed watching the few families stroll down Diagon Alley while she enjoyed her ice cream. She hardly had any in her past timeline because her parents didn’t believe in sweets. Thank Godric, her mum and Papa were not like that. 

Her grandfather sat across from them and talked to their mum about their upcoming trip to Hogwarts. He pulled two velvet pouches from his vest pocket and slid them across the table to her and James. 

“What is this for, Dad?” her mum asked. 

“It’s just a little pocket change for the children. They may need it while they’re there.” 

“They won’t be able to go to Hogsmeade yet,” she said. 

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wink. “There are catalogues they can order from, especially the Quidditch ones.” 

“They can’t play this year,” she said with a frown. 

“That may be true, but they can certainly fly when they get home, can’t they?” 

“You’re impossible,” their mother laughed. 

“Treats from the trolley then? They can do that, can’t they?” 

Their mother laughed, and Hermione turned her head to hide her giggle. Her heart stopped in her chest when she saw a small, sandy blond-haired boy walking beside a beautiful woman and a cranky-looking man. The boy's head was down, and he looked so sad. Hermione was sure it was Remus, but she couldn’t quite see his face. 

She was determined more than ever to make this timeline a better one for Remus and the others. 

Her attention was brought back to her grandfather when he stood. “Are you finished with your shopping for school?” 

“Yes, we were about to head home. Would you and Mother like to join us for dinner tonight? The children leave in three days.” 

“I think we could do that. I’ll just pop home and let Sophia know. But, first, I want you two to come with me.” 

Her mum raised a brow, and Hermione went to her grandfather and grabbed his hand. She knew where they were going, and she felt butterflies assault her stomach with excitement. 

The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and James took off like a rocket to the newest brooms, and Hermione stood there and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scents of broom polish and everything Quidditch. It was odd for her. In her past life, she hated flying and was terrified of heights, but now, she fucking loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it. She was no longer afraid of heights. In fact, she was excited to try out for the Quidditch team. It would bring her closer to Harry and Ron in a way. She still missed them dearly. 

“Would you like a new broom to celebrate?” her grandfather asked. 

She looked up at him and grinned. “I can’t take it with me,” she said. 

“That’s okay, you can use it when you get back. How else are you going to make the Quidditch team?” 

“How—I don’t think I’m good enough for that, grandfather,” she said. 

He laughed and bopped her on the nose. “I think you have what it takes, little dove. I’ve never seen anyone as fearless as you when flying. Why do you think we call you little dove? You’re like a bird in flight when you fly.” 

She could feel the heat on her cheeks. It was true, she was fearless. She would fall off and get right back up. It didn’t matter. She guessed that when you flew on the back of a dragon and jumped off, that fear melted away. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a peek, shall we?” 

The Nimbus 1700 was beautiful, Hermione had to admit. Her fingers stroked the lines of the broom and smiled. It was the newest model, having just arrived in stores a few weeks ago. James had begged their parents to buy him one for Christmas. 

When they left the store, they each had a new broom, all the polish they would need, and flying gear. Their mother tried to protest, but their grandfather just waved them off. It was impossible to argue with Henry Potter when he was a man on a mission, or when it came to his grandchildren. He always got his way. 

As soon as they got home, their mother called them. “I’ll let you fly for an hour, then you need to go pack your trunks and make sure you have everything,” she said. 

James was already out the door before she stopped speaking. She shook her head and brushed her fingers through Hermione’s curls. “Make sure you wear your safety gear, you know how your brother gets.” 

“I know, Mum, I will,” she said. 

“Don’t forget, one hour.” 

Hermione changed quickly into her gear and met James outside. She had her new wand on her, the same wand she had when she was at Hogwarts in the 90s. She guessed it was true what Ollivander said, the wand chooses the Wizard. Her wand chose her again this time, too. 

She carefully set the alarm without anyone seeing and placed it on her hip to let her know when the hour was up, and then she was up in the air, chasing James around the fields. 

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Remus tried to sink into the plush seats of the compartment of the Express. He eyed all the parents outside of the train and ducked his head down. He tried not to recall what his father had said to him last night. 

“You know you’re not a real boy, but a beast,” he said. “You must stay away from the other children in case you infect them.” 

His father walked away mumbling something about Dumbledore being a fool for letting Remus attend Hogwarts; in a way, Remus agreed. What if he did infect someone else? He wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone. His mother was the only one who treated him like a boy, like her precious son, but his father could barely stand being in the same room with him. 

Each month, they locked him up in the basement, his mother at the top of the stairs, crying softly, staying as close as she could to him. His father wouldn’t allow her past the top step in the off chance that Remus broke loose and killed her. 

He would never hurt his mother, not even in his wolf form. It was as if he knew that she was his mother, and even when he was changing, he could sense that. 

The door to the compartment rattled, and Remus lifted his book higher to hide his face.


“Hey, mate, can we sit here? All the other places are full,” someone said. 

Remus nodded his head and continued to look at his book. 

“Hello,” a sweet voice said. He took a tentative sniff, scenting the air. He could always tell if someone was good, bad, lying, or being truthful by their scent alone, but this scent was different. It scented of chocolate, marshmallows, the deep earth, everything he loved. 

It scented of home. 

How odd. 

His body relaxed, and he lowered his book. Amber eyes met Hazel, and he blinked. 

“My name is Hermione Potter, and this is my brother James. These are Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew,” she said, nodding to each in turn. “We’re sorry for barging in on you, but the compartments were full,” she said with a slight frown. 

Her top lip was slightly bigger than her lower, but he still thought she was pretty. Especially the way her curls surrounded her head. 

“What’s your name?” she asked with a smile. 

He took a deep breath, savouring the scent before he spoke. “I’m Remus Lupin,” he said. 

She stood and moved to sit next to him, and he held his breath and scooted closer to the corner. It wasn’t safe for her to be near him, didn’t she know that?


“What are you reading?” Hermione asked. 

“Um, Hogwarts a History,” he said with a grimace, trying to smile. 

“Oh!” she sat up straighter, dug into her satchel, and pulled out a copy of the same book. “It’s my favourite book so far,” she said with a small laugh. “I think I’ve read it cover to cover like a hundred times.” 

So had he. But he read it to prepare himself. 

Soon, the others tried to engage him in conversation, but Hermione just sat quietly next to him, their arms brushing against one another as she read. She didn’t seem bothered that she was seated next to a terrible beast, but of course, she didn’t know.


He felt a light weight fall onto his shoulder and was momentarily blinded by dark curls. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to shove her away; that would be rude, but he also wanted her to stay there. It was comforting to have someone touch him without fear or disdain. 

“Is she really your sister? You’re not twins, are you?” Sirius asked. 

“Yes, she really is my sister,” James hissed. 

“But she said—.” 

“I know she said we weren’t twins. She’s seven months older than me, but—well, she was adopted when she was six. Blood adopted, so she’s really my sister where it counts, okay?” 

Peter let out a low whistle. “Where did you find her? The Orphanage?" 

James chewed his bottom lip and rolled his shoulders. “I guess it’s not a secret, but don’t tell anyone, but she just appeared in my Papa’s lab. They did a legitimacy test, and it didn’t show anything—just a first name and date of birth. My parents wanted to protect her and adopted her. No one is missing a kid, and no one has asked about her. Crocker and Moody keep talking to her over the years, but she remembers nothing before she came to us.” 

“How strange,” Remus murmured and looked down at Hermione. He felt bad for her, not knowing where she came from. But, James was right about one thing: if she was blood adopted, she was his sister. She would now be listed as a blood relative. 

“I want to protect her, and I hope you lot can help me with that,” he said. “As you know, we don’t know anyone before Hogwarts, but she’s not a typical girl. She loves to fly and play Quidditch, and is my best friend.” 

“Yeah, we can help with that,” Remus said, and the others agreed. He felt oddly attached to her, but he would think about that later. Right now, he had to prepare for the sorting. His next nightmare. He hoped the hat didn’t out him as a werewolf. He liked these new friends and wanted to stay by their sides. 

Chapter Text

Hermione shuffled forward into Hogwarts’ Great Hall with the other first-year students.  Memories of her first year here were fuzzy at best, but she did her best to remain calm as she looked up and saw the floating candles that bobbed up and down, casting a warm light around the room. The shadows from the candles shifted and danced, casting shadows in the room's corners. She swallowed her nervousness and looked around with interest.

Hearing the others’ excited whispers, she leaned closer to James, trying to ignore the feeling of unease.  

“It’s an enchanted ceiling; it’s not real,” she said, trying to remind herself. 

Her brother James grabbed her hand and looked down at her with a smile. They accidentally crashed into the two girls ahead of them as the group stopped. Hermione swallowed nervously, muttering an apology, catching in her throat. Her eyes drifted upward from the girls, toward the front of the Great Hall, the old hat sitting on a stool. 

Anxiety took over. 

This was the Sorting Hat, and Hermione and the other first-years were about to be sent to their respective houses. There was no reason to be afraid. This was hardly the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She just didn’t wish to have the hat delve into her mind and get her secrets and tell Dumbledore. She still didn’t trust the fool and rightly so. 

She looked up at the high table and looked away quickly when her eyes landed on him, and he was staring at her. She could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her head and shifted closer to James. 

“It’s okay,” James said. “It’s just the sorting hat.” 

Her past was becoming muddy and faint. She couldn’t recall her original childhood clearly. All she remembered was that she had been a Muggleborn witch. She remembered the end of the war most clearly, of course—Harry, Ron, James, Sirius, and, of course, Remus. 

Her eyes found Remus, who was wiping his hands on his trousers as his name was called and sat on the rickety old stool. The brim of the hat dipped low, and Hermione couldn’t hear what the old hat was saying. Remus was stiff as the hat shifted on his head, and the words that everyone waited to hear were loud and clear. 

“Best be Gryffindor!” 

Her new friends Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter were all placed in Gryffindor. Hermione wasn’t worried about where she would be placed. She was a Gryffindor through and through. She recollected all the times she sat in their little common room with Harry and Ron and worked on their homework—well, she worked on hers, while the other two decidedly didn’t. 

She missed those times. 

It was Professor McGonagall’s voice that pulled her back to the Great Hall. Her thick Scottish accent echoed off the walls and reverberated among the glowing candles. The woman’s eyes peered over her glasses, and she raised a brow. “Miss Potter, if you’d be so kind.” 

A moment of panic crept inside her chest. She took a deep breath as someone urged her forward, and a warm, comfortable feeling filled her chest. James was trying to comfort her the only way he knew how. She turned and looked at him and tried to smile.

He looked back at her and gave an encouraging nod. “You can do this,” he said. 

It was only the clearing of the throat behind her from Professor McGonagall that made her move.

She turned away and took a tentative step forward. Her legs felt heavy as she took the first step and then another, onto the raised platform.

‘You can do this, Hermione. You know you can do this.’

Hermione climbed up on the stool, turned to face the mass of students, and closed her eyes. She knew how this worked. She had read Hogwarts: A History from cover to cover several times over the summer since she received her copy. It had become so well-loved that the spine had creased, and now the book opened with ease. She had notes scrawled in the margins of her favourite parts.

‘Well, who do we have here?' A raspy voice mumbled in her head. 

‘Hermione Euphemia Potter—Pureblood.’ She answered back primly. 

The hat rumbled a laugh and shifted on her head, blocking her view as she opened her eyes. The tickling sensation caused her to shiver, and she adjusted herself on the seat. She felt small tendrils of magic shifting delicately through her thoughts and feelings. Something moved inside her, but it was over before she could understand it. 

‘I see, I see.’ The hat let out a guffaw. ‘Difficult... It is very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So, where shall I put you?

She furrowed her brows as the magic threaded through her again. Someone had yelled "Hat stall!” and Hermione’s stomach twisted in knots.

"Yes, yes, I can see everything clearly now, you have a mission to complete," the hat rumbled. 'I know right where to place you.'

‘Gryffindor?’ Hope shone through her thoughts. She wanted to be in the same house as the others. She was sure James would be in Gryffindor, too. 

Hermione sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for his words. The words that would define her future at Hogwarts.

She shuddered.  

‘No, little one. Although you’d do well in all houses, I think you’d be best suited for…’ 

Hermione continued to hold her breath, expecting the hat to bellow out Ravenclaw, but that’s not what happened. She felt a shiver race down her spine, and the acrid taste of fear coated her tongue when the hat bellowed, “BEST BE... SLYTHERIN!” 

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James looked over at Hermione, who had her head down and shuffled with her new housemates to the dungeons from the Great Hall. He was cheesed off that she got Slytherin and not Gryffindor like they all did. 

It made sense to him that she did. Their mother had been Slytherin. Their father was a Gryffindor. It would be alright. She was still his sister and best friend. Their mother survived, and so would she. 

“It doesn’t change a thing,” he murmured. 

Sirius wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him up the steps. “I’m sure your sister will be fine, mate,” he said. 

Remus didn’t look convinced. He kept looking down over the railings as he was doing so to try to catch a glimpse of Hermione. 

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. He shrugged Sirius off, not wanting the comfort. His best friend was now in the dungeons with them. He heard stories of the dungeons from his mother. How she maintained her sanity, he didn’t know. It was all about aligning yourself with certain families and making connections that would suit your family in the future. The Potters didn’t believe in that rubbish. Their parents just wanted them to be happy. 

‘BEST BE… SLYTHERIN!’  The words echoed hollowly in his ears. 

He caught sight of Lily, and his mood wasn’t in it. He would have, if Hermione had been by his side, gone up to her and introduced himself. But Lily was several students ahead of them, chatting with a group of girls, her tinkling laugh echoing off the walls. 

That should be Hermione up there chatting with her and laughing. 

“Maybe I should go to the dungeons and check on Hermione,” he said. 

“You can’t,” Peter said. “You have to go to your own house. B-But, we can see her at breakfast. There are no rules about her eating with us. Only during special events.” 

That cheered James up. All he had to do was make it through the night, and he would see Hermione again. She would be fine. She was smart and didn’t take shite from anyone—even him. 

Yes, Hermione would be just fine. When he got to his chambers, he was going to write to his parents immediately and let them know. 

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Fleamont had been surprised when two letters arrived for him and Euphemia. He shouldn’t have been; their children hadn’t even been gone for two days. 

He picked up one of the letters, broke the seal and snapped it open. 

Dear Mum and Dad,

We made it to Hogwarts safely. Hermione and I have been sorted, but I’m worried about Hermione. While I got sorted into Gryffindor, the house I wanted, Hermione was sorted into Slytherin. I just worry about her being in the dungeons alone. I know Mum would say it is safe, and Hermione will be fine, but I would just feel better if she were near me, where I can keep an eye on her. 

Slytherin is about aligning yourself politically and what’s best for your family. We are not like that, and what is people pressure her into being someone she’s not. 

Can you write to Dumbledore and ask for Hermione to be resorted? 

Love,

James

Fleamont looked across the table at his wife, who had a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. She looked pleased, and it must be a letter from Hermione with the Potter seal. 

“Everything alright, dearest?” he asked. 

She handed him the letter, and she took the one from his hand, scanning the contents. He looked down and saw Hermione’s beautiful penmanship and began to read. 

Dear Mum and Papa,

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful, although we did meet a few people that James seemed content with, which makes me happy. Their names are Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin. They are all lovely and treated James and me well. 

I didn’t get to see Lily yet, but I hope to find her and get to know her. She has been sorted into Gryffindor, and I am in Slytherin, Mum’s house. I hope Lily will still be friends with me even though I’m not in her house. 

I don’t know my bunkmates yet, but I’m sure that will take time. It’s cold down here in the dungeons, something I’m not used to, but I’m sure in time, I will acclimate to the different temperature soon enough. 

Tomorrow is Saturday, so we have time to get to know our way around the castle, and then on Monday we start classes. I might find the library and get a head start on my studies. 

Everything here is green. I suppose I need to learn to charm some of my clothes to match the colour of my house. I had bought a lot of red in hopes of going into Gryffindor with James. He was so sure that was the house he was going into that I thought I would be, too.

I’ll be sure to write more later. I’m going to unpack my trunk for tomorrow and get my books ready. I hope you are doing well. 

I love you. 

Hermione Euphemia Potter of the House of Potter 

Fleamont placed the letter on the table and raised a brow at his wife. “Well?” he said. 

“James wants us to talk to Albus?” she asked with a giggle. 

“It appears so,” he said. 

“I think it will be good for them to make new paths. Hermione will be just fine in Slytherin. It is my house, and I turned out just fine.” 

Fleamont reached for her, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “That you did, love.” 

“We need to get them blankets for their respective houses, but for Hermione, I want to do warming charms for her. She’s right, it is cold down there.” 

“You’re the best with charms,” Fleamont said with a wink. “We’ll go and get them today and send them off to them tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, dearest. I do worry about them. It’s odd having the Manor to ourselves.” 

“I know I miss Hermione working in the lab with me. Speaking of which, I heard back from Crocker about the Wolfsbane potion that Hermione made. They are going to get some wolves to try it out soon. So far, everything looks good.” 

“She’s a brilliant child,” his wife said. 

“Just like her mother,” he said. 

She stood and held onto his hand. “Come, let’s go to Diagon Alley and get the things we need for our children. It’ll be a nice surprise for them.” 

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Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to be near Hermione. She felt like home and didn’t understand it. It had been a month since he met her, and the feeling still wouldn’t go away.

He was lucky that he was friends with James, who seemed to want to follow his sister everywhere. They had classes together, and he would always sit next to her. It was an odd arrangement, sure. Most of the time, students sat with their house, but Remus didn’t like Hermione being alone with someone they didn’t know. 

Her scent enveloped him, and he sank deeper into his seat. Tomorrow would be the full moon, and his skin itched, and he was cranky, but being near Hermione seemed to coax his beast into submission. 

Hermione looked over at him and smiled. She dug into her robes, pulled out a few pieces of candy and slid them over to him. 

“It’s chocolate,” she said. “Eat, you’ll feel better.” 

He looked down at the chocolate and wanted to cry. He was never allowed to have chocolate at home when his father was there. He told him it was bad for dogs and would kill him. The only person in his life who treated him as a human, as the boy he was, was his mum, Hope. 

His fingers trembled as he snatched up the chocolate, unwrapped a piece and popped it into his mouth. He stuffed the others into his robe and smiled at her. “Thanks, Hermione,” he said. 

She nodded at him and then turned her attention back to class. Slughorn was droning on and on about safety and how to use their equipment. Sure, potions could be dangerous, but what they were learning shouldn’t be. They were first-years for Godric’s sake. 

His beast was very aware of Hermione, and so was he. Every shift in her position, the scratch of the quill against her parchment, he knew. 

Why? That was the question. His beast seemed to hum under his skin as he took greedy breaths of her scent. He hoped he wasn’t too obvious about it. He didn’t want to scare her off. He liked her. She was smart, and they would all study together in the library. For once, he found someone who could keep up with him. What else could he do when he was at home other than read? 

She was quickly becoming his best friend. He thought it odd that he was best friends with a girl, but with Hermione, it was easy. She treated everyone the same and didn’t look down on anyone. He liked that about her. 

He rolled the chocolate around on his tongue and sighed. He was feeling better with that small boost of sugar. How did she know? It didn’t matter; he would have to save his money so he could get more chocolate for the full moons. He would eat the others after tomorrow and see if it was some fluke. 

When class ended, Professor Slughorn asked Hermione to wait for a moment. She looked over at him with a smile. “I’ll catch up to you,” she said. 

“We’ll wait for you,” James said, coming to her side. James bent down, grabbed her bag, and shouldered it. “Don’t be too long.” 

Remus shuffled with the others to the door as Hermione stood in front of Slughorn, her back ramrod straight. 

He knew he shouldn’t be listening in on the conversation. He told himself he wanted to make sure she was okay. 

“Ah, yes, Miss Potter. I had to floo call your father about the order you placed. The Basklisk venom is a hazardous potion ingredient.” 

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said, with her head down. 

“But, he tells me that you can be trusted with it. He also told me about the potion you made—Wolfsbane, that it’s in the testing phase at the Ministry.” 

Hermione looked up at Remus’ stomach, which lurched at the information. Wolfsbane, what would that be used for? Did she have a cure?

“Yes,” Hermione said as she lowered her voice. Remus had to strain to hear. “It’s a potion for werewolves for their monthly change. It helps keep control of their wolves, and they won’t hurt anyone or themselves.” 

“My my,” Slughorn said, and he looked at Slughorn beamed down at her. “I don’t usually ask someone so young to my parties, but your father tells me you’re brilliant with potions. It’s called the Slugclub. We meet once a month. The first meeting is on Oct 1st. I would love for you to be there.” 

Hermione paused for a moment and then nodded her head. “It would be an honour, sir,” she said. 

“Your father has promised to keep me updated on your potion patent. Imagine someone so young having a patent. Maybe you could teach the class,” he said with a jovial laugh. 

He leaned back and snatched a vial from his desk. “Now, be careful with this,” he said. 

“Yes, sir, I promise. It’s not for anything nefarious, I promise.” 

“If you need any assistance with your brewing, I can invite you to brew here when I have no class in the evenings.” 

“Thank you, Professor, truly.” 

She grabbed the vial and stuffed it into her robes, and with a small bow of her head, she turned on her heel and made her way to them. 

He watched her with a furrowed brow. She was much more intelligent than she let on. She hardly raised her hand in class, but always took notes. When any Professor would call on her, trying to catch her off guard, she always had the answer. 

“There you are,” James said, handing Hermione her bag back. “What was that all about?” 

She shrugged. “He just had something for me, it’s a project I’m working on.” 

James rolled his eyes. “Of course, it is. Come on, we’ll be late for Charms.” 

Remus walked next to Hermione, so close he could feel her body heat. She looked over at him and smiled again. Was he caught staring? He couldn’t help it. She was an enigma, one he was determined to figure out.

Chapter Text

The library was Hermione’s sanctuary. She was able to get things organised on paper of what she needed to do to find the Horcruxes. She surmised that the only real issue would be the locket and the diary. But she would worry about that later. 

Now that she was at Hogwarts, she could find the tiara. Although it was interesting to note, when she went to the Room of Hidden Things, Bellatrix would sometimes be there, mumbling about a cup and hated that she couldn’t enter the room. 

Hermione had an idea that the cup might be in there and would look for it, too. 

But today, she had a potions essay to complete, so she went to the library. 

She hadn’t been there long when Lily and Snape approached her. “Hermione!” Lily gushed. “Can we sit with you?” 

She looked up from her potion book and smiled. “Of course. Snape,” she said, as Lily and Snape slid into their seats. 

Hermione went back to annotating her book. She remembered that Harry had a book like that, and it had been Snape’s. She thought it was a brilliant idea and began making her adjustments. After all, she had learned a lot from her Papa, who was teaching her Master's in potions. 

“What are you doing?” Snape hissed. 

She looked up and blinked at him. “Annotating my book, why?” 

“You’re writing in your book?” Snape seemed like this was a scandal, and Hermione had to chuckle before she answered him. 

She leaned forward and crossed her arms, her quill tapping against the corner of her book. “Don’t you ever think outside the box, Snape. Think about it. When they say we need the juice of something, they have us grind it, but wouldn’t it be better to be gentle with it and crush it with something, say a spoon? You would get more juice from it, don’t you think?” 

He blinked at her while Lily giggled. “That’s smart thinking,” Lily said. “Can I borrow your book and see what you have so far?” 

“Sure,” Hermione said with a smile, and made sure to slide it between the pair. “I don’t need it right now. I think I have a grasp on the subject.” 

Lily snorted. 

“I’ll be right back. I need to get some books on the subject for us,” she said. 

As Hermione gathered the books with a simple flick of her wand, she stacked them neatly on the counter. She looked both ways before she used that spell, because she wasn’t supposed to know it yet. They would be getting into that next week in charms. 

She froze when someone placed a hand on her shoulder, and the book she had been levitating came down with a bang. She whirled around and pressed her wand under the chin of whoever was behind her. 

Her heart thumped in her chest as she had to remind herself that she was in the 70s and that they were not at war—yet. 

“Potter, where did you learn that spell?” Evan Rosier asked as he stepped into her personal space. 

Avery, Mulciber, and Wilkes were right behind him, and she had to swallow the bile in her throat. Gathering her Potter courage, she sniffed and turned back around to collect her books. “I read ahead, Rosier, something I suggest that you lot might do.” 

He blocked her path as she tried to leave. He reached out, and Hermione stilled as he played with one of her curls. His blond hair was slicked back, much like Malfoy’s had been, but his eyes were not grey like Malfoy's, no, they were steel blue and cut through Hermione. 

“I think you need to not hang out with those Lions, some of them are not for us,” he said. 

“My brother is a lion,” Hermione ground through her teeth. 

He waved his hand to dismiss her words. “He’s not the one I’m talking about,” he said. “You’re smart, you can figure out who is worthy of our time,” he said. “Your magic is beyond where it should be. We’ve been watching you,” he said. “You know you can make better friends in your own house.” 

“Fuck off,” she said, and brushed past him. 

The others chortled, and she could hear Evan snicker from behind her. She swallowed nervously as she rounded the shelves to get back to her table, where she felt safe. She knew that there were Death Eaters in the pit, but so far, they had left her alone. 

Most of the time, they would hang out with Lucius Malfoy as he conducted court, and she wanted to gag. She was always on the outside of their group, trying to be inconspicuous and do her homework while trying to listen to what was being said. 

But they had noticed her, and that worried her. They were collecting Purebloods, and that was what she was.

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James frowned as he entered the library and expected to see his sister's curls taking up half the table across the room. But all he saw was Snape and Lily with their heads bent, looking at a book that sat between them. 

He saw Hermione’s bag and quill. He knew it was her quill because she had a habit of chewing the ends of hers all the time. 

He nodded to the others, moving towards the table and sitting in the chair next to Hermione’s. Remus took the other side, but that didn’t bother him. Remus took guarding his sister seriously, and he appreciated that. 

Sirius took the end of the table and leaned back in the chair. Peter took the seat next to James. 

“Evans,” James greeted, “Snape.” 

“Potter, what are you doing here?” Lily hissed. Looking around the table. “We are trying to study.” 

“I was looking for Hermione, she said she would help us with our potion essay,” he said with ease. 

“Fuck off!”

He heard Hermione’s voice, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Remus was up and out of his seat, stomping towards her voice. He stood, too, but Remus had met Hermione when she rounded the corner, and took the books from her and walked with her back to the table. 

She dropped into her chair, her face flushed. He looked back from where she came. Avery, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Rosier strolled out from where she was. He narrowed his eyes at them when they smirked in their direction. 

Fuckers. 

“Were they bothering you?” James asked. 

His eyes searched her face as she let out a gust of air. “No, they didn’t bother me,” she said. “They just asked me to sit with them.” 

She was lying. She had always been a horrible liar, but he let that go. He would get her alone soon enough to ask her what happened. 

Remus cleared his throat, “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine, Remus, thank you,” she said with a bright smile, which made James relax. 

He rolled his shoulders and nudged his sister. “We need help with this essay,” he said. 

“I figured as much. I know Remus and Peter could help you,” she said. “They are both top of the class, too.” 

“I know, but you know, you and Dad—he’s teaching you Mastery in Potions,” he said. 

Snape dropped his quill, his mouth parted in shock. “How is that possible, you’re only twelve!” 

James leaned back in his chair. “She just got her first patent from the Ministry,” he said with pride. 

“James!” Hermione hissed. 

“What?” he said. “You’re brilliant and everyone should know.” 

“Why are you at Hogwarts?” Snape muttered. 

Hermione let out a soft sigh and said. “I need to learn other subjects, Snape. Potioneers need to know Charms and Transfiguration, too. I need a grasp of all subject matters. My Papa said it would make me well-rounded. Besides, it’s difficult to continue my Master's when I’m here. We’ll continue during the summer.” 

Lily just shook her head. “I never knew you could get your Master's so young, Hermione,” she said. 

“You usually can’t,” James said. “Hermione got permission from the Ministry. They love Hermione.” 

Hermione huffed. “Let’s get back to work. These books will have the answers you need, and also your potion book.” 

“Where’s yours?” Remus asked. 

She nodded towards Lily and Snape. “They are looking at the notes I have in mine, but that’s okay.” 

“You can share, mine, Hermione. You and I have the same notes,” he said. 

“Only because you sit next to her,” Sirius snorted. 

“Y-you need to pay attention, Sirius,” Peter mumbled. 

Poor Peter. He always tried to stand up to Sirius, but he always ignored him. Like he did now. James patted Peter on the back and smirked. “He won’t ever listen,” he said. “There’s no use trying.” 

“I have Hermione to help me, so why should I pay attention?” Sirius said as he put his feet up on the table and rocked his chair back. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and her face twitched, and Sirius was knocked back. James knew that Hermione could do wandless magic, and it was a secret. He didn’t mind keeping it because she was teaching him how to do it, too. 

The table erupted in laughter, and Sirius stood, straightened his robes and slammed his arse back into the chair with a grunt. 

Godric, he loved his sister. 

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Remus ignored the others as he and Hermione shared a book. Her scent of home surrounded him, and he relaxed. 

“How are you feeling, Remus?” Hermione whispered as she paused her writing and looked at him. She searched his face, and he wanted to hide. He knew he looked pale, and he had a new scratch transecting his face from his change. Most of the time, it was his back, but this shift had been different. 

It was fucking violent. 

She stuffed her hand in her robes and slid some chocolate his way. She fed him so much chocolate that he was worried that he might get sick, but he loved it. 

He took one and popped it in his mouth, instantly feeling better. 

“Oi, what about us?” Sirius called. “I like chocolate,” he said. 

“With a sigh, Hermione took a huge handful of chocolates and put them in the middle of the table. “There,” she said. “You lot can have some.” 

“H-how do you keep it from melting?” Peter asked.

He had wondered that, too. 

“I charm them not to,” she said with a shrug. 

There were days when Remus tried hard to figure Hermione out. He thought he got close a few times, and then she would say something offhand like that. She shouldn’t know half the spells she did. 

James said she just appeared in the Potter lab. When they did a legitimacy test, it only showed her first name and date of birth. No parents, no last name. 

Did James’ father accidentally create her? Did one of the gods send her here? He didn’t know, but sometimes he would have a frisson of unease when he thought of her turning on them. 

That wouldn’t happen, of course, Hermione loved them all, even fucking Sirius, who didn’t give one fig. But, he could tell that Sirius did care about Hermione. He would watch her, too, which made his hackles rise. 

“Do you mind if I add something to your book?” Hermione asked. “I think you missed one of my notes,” she said. 

“Go right ahead,” Remus said. 

” I-I would like to look at your book, too, Hermione,” Peter said. “If that’s alright with you.” 

“Of course, Pete, help yourself,” she smiled. 

She moved Remus’ book and chewed the end of her quill for a moment before she mumbled something to herself and then, with precise ease, jotted down notes. She would usually leave her books to her right, where Remus sat, so he could see her notes and add them to his books, but she was right, he had missed one. 

It was difficult some days sitting so close to her. She made him relax, and he would be happy just to stare at her, trying to figure her out. His wolf would almost go mad when she was away from them, and he didn’t understand. 

He could hear his wolf on occasion, but it was faint, and he couldn’t make out the words. Something about mine and ours kept repeating in his head. He needed to figure it out soon, because it was driving him spar. He didn’t know why she was so important to him. 

But, she was. They all were, but Hermione was special. 

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Hermione arrived late in the Slytherin common room. Helping her brother and others had been a task. She didn’t mind, but her brother and Sirius took up most of her time. She had just finished her essay in time for curfew. 

She stopped in her tracks when Lucius Malfoy appeared in front of her. Of course, Rosier and his goons were there, too. 

“Hello, pet,” Malfoy cooed at her and stepped closer. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” 

“Something interesting that I recently learned about you. I thought it may be a farce, but the more I watch you, I’m not so sure,” he said. 

“And what would that be?” Hermione asked. As she did, she saw Snape sneak into the room and dither near the steps to the boys' dormitories. 

At least she had witnesses. 

Malfoy came closer and wrapped a hand around her waist, and she slapped his hand away. He chuckled and then smirked down at her. “Well, let’s see. No one knows who your parents are. That you just appeared one day at the Potter’s Manor. They also adopted you. So, where did you come from, Hermione?” 

“I never permitted you to use my first name, Malfoy. Besides, you can’t believe everything you hear.” 

“Oh, I just didn’t hear it. My father told me, and he had proof. We all find it very interesting. I wonder, if I do a legitimacy test on you now, what would it show, hmm?” 

Rosier and Avery moved as quickly as a snake as they grabbed her arms. She kicked out and hit Malfoy in the shins, but he just grunted as he grabbed her wrist and, with a flick of his wand, sliced her. 

She struggled harder as she bled on the paper. She knew what it was. What if it showed that she was from the future? Tears pooled in her eyes as Malfoy looked down and then raised an eyebrow and looked at her. 

“Very interesting indeed,” he said and cupped her cheek, moving her face to the left and to the right. “That is all, Hermione, you may go, but I’m keeping an eye on you, pet.” 

“Fuck off, Malfoy and leave me alone,” she snarled and kicked him in the shin once again as she left. 

He chortled at her back as she stomped up the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. Snape reached out for her, but she shook her head and took the steps two at a time. 

She saw the parchment. It showed that the Potters had adopted her, that she had no history before them. She didn’t need them to know that. How they found out, she didn’t know, but she did know that she needed to keep her guard up. She didn’t need the Dark Fucking Lord being interested in her. 

Slamming the door open, her bunkmates jumped. Delores Umbridge giggled, and Hermione wanted to hex the fucking toad. Oh, she remembered Umbridge from before, and she was just as much of a nightmare as before. 

“Running late, are we?” Umbridge said, putting her book down. 

“What’s it to you?” Hermione asked, going to her trunk. “Some of us do our homework, Umbridge.” 

“I’ll have you know—,” she started. 

“I don’t care,” Hermione ground out between her lips. “Whatever.” 

She looked at the others, daring them to say anything. Tracey Davis just shrugged, and Lucinda Talkalot just rolled over in her bed. 

Good. 

Hermione snatched her toiletry bag from her trunk along with her clothes and slammed her trunk shut. She had it charmed so no one could open it. She knew someone had tried, and it had probably been Umbridge. She was always sneaking around, which annoyed Hermione to no end. 

As Hermione showered, she stretched her back. It had been hurting for several days, and her body was tender. When she washed herself, she saw blood and groaned. 

Fucking perfect. She started her period. No wonder she had been in a foul mood. She wasn’t looking forward to maintaining her hormones and mood swings a second time. She could go to the infirmary and ask Madame Pompfrey for something, but it was late, and Malfoy and his goons might still be done there. 

It took her a moment to get everything settled and get a Lil-Lets from her trunk. Once she was in bed, she thought about her task at hand. The next thing she needed to do was work on her extension charm for her bag so she could have her silver basilisk blade with her at all times. 

Yes, it was still illegal, but she didn’t fucking care. Moody and Crocker had a soft spot for her if she were caught, and she could explain she had been experimenting and didn’t know. 

As he closed her eyes, she knew what she had to do. It was time to use the Room of Requirement. 

Chapter Text

It was Saturday, and James was bored. Hermione was busy for the day and didn’t have time to spend any time with him or their friends. 

She had been secretive of late, and it bothered him. She was his best friend and usually confided in him about everything. 

He grabbed his guitar and went to the common room where his mates were waiting for him. Settling in a chair, his mind whirled as he strummed the strings, playing the cords from memory. It was only because of Hermione that he was allowed to play the guitar instead of getting piano lessons from his mother. 

There were times he saw Hermione in an old music room that had long since been abandoned, playing the piano. A sad song, and she looked so forlorn that he wished there was something he could do for her. 

That was a problem for another day. 

Sirius plopped next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You going home for Christmas hols?” 

“Of course,” James said. “Why?” 

“Can I come over?” 

James furrowed his brows. “Why wouldn’t you want to spend it with your family?” 

Admittedly, James knew very little of Sirius’ or the others' home life. It was something they didn’t talk about. 

“Wouldn’t your family mind?” 

Sirius snorted and moved away from him. “No, old Walburga would probably celebrate that I’m not home. It’s either your house or Hogwarts. They’re not pleased that I’m in Gryffindor. 

“I can send a letter to my parents and ask.” He looked at the others who had been watching the pair. “Is there anyone else who wants to come to my Manor for the holidays?” 

Remus opened his mouth and then closed it. “I would like to come over, if that’s okay and see you and Hermione.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“Where is your sister?” Peter asked, reading an old Quidditch magazine.

“She said she was busy today,” he said with a shrug. 

“Why don’t we go find her? She can’t be too busy for her best friends,” Pete said. “I—I would like to see her. It’s too bad she’s with the snakes.”

James leaned his guitar against one of the side tables and stood up to stretch. “Alright, you lot, let’s go.” 

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Remus could follow Hermione’s scent, not that he would tell them about that. They came to a wall and looked around. Her scent ended here, then stopped. 

“Let’s keep going,” James said. 

“Wait,” Sirius said and grabbed his arm. 

There was a small door that appeared, and then Hermione stepped through, looking tired. Her scent hit him like a wrecking ball. It felt like home, but something more was underlying it. He couldn’t figure out the scent. It made her natural scent stronger, and quietly, Remus turned his head and took a deep breath. 

No, he wasn’t creepy, he was just trying to see if his best friend was sick. 

“Hermione!” James yelped. “Where did you come from?” 

Hermione stilled and gripped her small bag that was over her shoulder, looking guilty. 

“Well—can you keep a secret?” she asked. 

James snorted and walked up to his sister. “Pinky promise,” he said and offered his pinky. 

They shook, and then her frame relaxed. “I found this a few weeks ago,” she said. “I call it the Room of Requirement.” 

“What the fuck is that?” Sirius said. 

Hermione let out a quiet sigh and shooed them a few steps back. “Look, this blank wall seemed out of place, does it not?”  

“Yeah,” Pete said. “Why is that?” 

“Because it’s a secret room. James, come here,” she said as she reached out to him. 

He stood in front of his sister and looked at the massive stone wall. No portraits or sigils hung from it. It was strange, but he was curious about why, too. 

“Think of a place you want to be,” Hermione said, grasping James’ shoulders. “Do you have a place in mind?” 

“What kind of place?” he asked and squinted at her. 

“Any place, James. Your room, the common room, the lab, anything,” she said. 

James closed his eyes, and he nodded. “Okay, got it.” 

She stepped closer to them, stepping in front of Remus. He could feel her body heat; she was standing so close to him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but didn’t. Instead, he clenched his fist and waited. 

“Now, walk in front of this wall three times, keep that place firmly in your mind,” she said. 

“This is silly,” James muttered as he did what Hermione instructed. 

An ornate double door appeared, featuring a lion and snake intertwined as its knocker. 

“What the hell!” James yelled. “That’s our front door!

Hermione giggled and stepped next to her brother.  “Open it,” she said. 

James hesitated for a moment before he grasped the handle and twisted the knob. 

“Hermione—what is this?” James asked as he took a step in and looked over his shoulder at his sister. 

“Just go in so the others can see.” 

Remus hesitated, too, as he stepped through the door. He didn’t wish for the room to swallow him up. 

Pete was the last one to enter, and he turned, and the door disappeared. A frisson of fear skittered up his spine, but Hermione was right there. 

“It will appear again when you’re ready to leave,” she said. 

He relaxed. Obviously, it would; she just came out of here. He looked around and his mouth parted in shock. 

There was a vast field in front of them. Apple trees were in the distance, and apples hung from their branches, making them hang low. 

The high grass swayed in the breeze, and spring flowers dotted the landscape. A cool breeze brushed against his face, and he could scent the apples, the damp earth and the scent of spring in the air. 

James and Sirius were jumping up and down, clasping each other’s arms. He snorted when he saw a line of brooms leaning carefully against a stand. There were five of them. 

“What is this place?” 

“Home,” Hermione said with such reverence that Remus looked around, eager to take a peek at where Hermione lives. 

“Can we fly in here?” Pete asked, heading towards the brooms. 

“Of course, nothing in here will hurt you,” she said with confidence. 

“Hermione—this is amazing,” James said, coming up to her. “It looks and smells just like home. How does this work?” 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Magic, you idiot.” She hugged her brother. “Now, you lot go fly. I have a meeting with McGonagall.” 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need, you can think of something different next time if you want. Look, I need to go.” 

“Come on, kitten, let’s fly,” Sirius said with two brooms in his hands. “I want to see if you're talented with flying, too.” 

James snorted and took the broom from Sirus and mounted it. 

“I can’t, maybe next time,” she said. 

“I—I can teach you to fly, Hermione, if you don’t know how,” Pete said. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Hermione said with a smile. “Maybe next time,” she said, a smile twitching her lip. 

Her hand brushed against his as she walked to the door that appeared. She turned and dug into her robes, stepping back towards him. She grabbed his hand and then placed a handful of chocolates there. 

“For later,” she said. “You can share with the others, or not,” she said with a shrug. “You look a little pale. Eat, you’ll feel better.” 

As she left, he thought of Hermione’s ability to know when it was close to the full moon and when he needed the chocolate the most, because it did make him feel better. 

She was an enigma, one that he wanted to figure out. 

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Hermione rushed down the corridor, wrapping her cloak around her tightly as she made her way to McGonagall’s office. The cold wind rushed through the open slits of the castle wall, and Hermione cursed herself for not wearing her scarf. 

She didn’t want to cast a warming charm, knowing that was beyond her level. She had to be careful now because fucking Malfoy and his goons were watching her. 

She paused her step and straightened out her robes as she tentatively knocked on the door. Professor McGonagall had always been her favourite professor in her previous life and in this one. 

She still didn’t trust Dumbledore. He was still on her shite list from before. They had just got lucky the last time. 

This time would be different. 

“Come in, Miss Potter,” McGonagall’s voice said, and the door popped open. 

Professor McGonagall’s office had always been comfortable. Hermione loosened her robe as she came in, and McGonagall guided her to an overstuffed wingback chair that sat on the opposite side of its mate. 

A low table sat between them, and there was a steaming pot of what smelled of lavender tea. Biscuits were provided on a small silver dish.  

The fire blazed in the hearth, and Hermione was grateful for the heat; it warmed her chilled bones. 

McGonagall took the seat across from her and poured them tea, and then she spoke. “I must admit, Miss Potter, I was surprised to get a letter from your parents about this,” she said. 

“I wanted to ask permission first. I tell my parents everything.” 

Lies. 

“I had to contact the Ministry, of course, about your request to become an Animagus, and someone named Crocker has agreed and wants updates on your progress. Your father seemed especially excited about you doing this. He said he was confident in your ability.” 

Hermione remained silent and sipped her tea as McGonagall studied her. 

“You're the top of my class,” she said with a sniff. “You follow directions well. I’m sure we can work something out.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” she said with a smile, feeling the warmth fill her body. She could have tried to become an Animagus on her own, as James and the others would in a few years, but she didn’t wish to be stuck as a half-animal, half-human hybrid. She had already been a cat and didn’t want to repeat that experience. 

Hermione sipped her tea as McGonagall moved around the room, pulling out books from her shelves. She waited quietly as McGonagall floated the books her way and put them next to Hermione on the floor. 

“I assume your father will get the ingredients you’ll need?” McGonagall asked. 

“Yes, Professor. I’ll get them when I go home for Winter Hols.” 

“Good, this will give you time to read up on what this entails. This is not an easy task, Miss Potter. But, I believe you can do it.” 

“Thank you for your faith in me,” she said with a smile. 

Hermione set her tea cup down and grabbed the books that her Professor had let her borrow. She sifted through the titles and made a mental note to order her own copies. 

“I’ll return these soon,” she said as she held the books parcarulously in her arms and grabbed her bag. “Thank you for helping me with this.” 

“I must admit, I’m curious if you’ll be able to accomplish this the first time. I have faith you can do it eventually.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said as she turned. McGonagall waved her wand, and the door opened, and Hermione slipped through and left. 

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“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Euphemia asked Fleamont as they strolled along Diagon Alley. 

They were going shopping for a care package for their children, something they did each month for them. Euphemia insisted on it. 

Fleamont looked down at her, a smile curving his lips. “Of course, Love,” he said as he tightened his hand. “Hermione will be just fine,” he said. “Look at how she had taken to potions. I’m already teaching her Mastery in that subject. She wants to expand her knowledge.” 

“I know, but—,” she started to say. 

“What if James wanted to try?” 

She pursed her lips. “That would be different,” she said. “He’s a boy.” 

“Euphemia Potter,” Fleamont said and tugged her hand to stop. “Don’t tell me you’re sexist.” 

“No, of course not, I know Hermione could do anything James can do, maybe even better. It’s just—I wanted a daughter for so long. To have someone to share things with. She’s closer to you.” She knew she was pouting, but she missed James and Hermione fiercely. She was worried about Hermione being with the snakes, but she just wouldn’t admit it. 

Hermione was so small, but she was fierce. However, she wished that Hermione would depend on her more. She always went to her father. 

“Oh,” Fleamont said as they started walking again. “Dad asked to take the children to France for a few days during their winter hols.” 

“Why would Harry want to do that?” 

“He and Mum want to see Dad’s brother and introduce Hermione to them. Besides, James hasn’t been to France in years. It’s about time we visit family over there.” 

“Well, I won’t be seeing my family, I assure you.” 

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll make sure we’re back in time for Christmas.” 

“Do we really need to go to Knockturn Alley?” Euphemia asked, looking around. 

“Yes, it’s the only place that carries what we need. I’ll order extra in case she needs it. We’ll be fine. It’s right near the entrance, and you know I come here all the time, even Hermione has come with me.” 

Euphemia shrieked and grabbed his arm. “You’ll never bring my daughter there again!” 

Fleamont snickered and kept walking, bringing Euphemia with him. “Of course, not.” 

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James’ hair was windswept by the time they were all done flying for the afternoon. He wished that Hermione had joined them. It found it amusing that Sirius just assumed Hermione couldn’t fly. 

She flew better than he did, not that he would tell her that. 

“That was fun!” Peter cheered as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I wonder how Hermione found that room. I know we’ll make great use of it.” 

“You know the kitten, she is just mysterious and wouldn’t tell us how she found it, anyway, so there’s no need to ask,” Sirius said. 

He had a point. Hermione would laugh and change the subject on them.

“Didn’t you have fun, Remus?” James asked as he nudged Remus with his arm. 

“Hmm? Oh, yes, very. It’s just that I was wondering where Hermione went off to. She should have come back before now.” 

“She was meeting with McGonagall, wasn’t she?” 

“Yeah, but for two hours?” 

“You never know with Hermione, she loves McGonagall. She’s probably still there.” 

That was total bullshite, and Remus knew it, but the way he gave him the side-eye. James was totally lying about that. Remus had a point; Hermione should have come back and joined them. She was probably in the library or her dorm, studying. She did promise to spend the day with them tomorrow, but what was so bloody important that she couldn’t today? 

He fucking missed her. He was so used to having her by his side every day since the day they found her that it felt as if he were missing a limb when she was gone. 

“Come on,” he said. “We can check the library on the way back to the dorm.” 

Remus stiffened as they neared the library and then took off. He wondered why, until her heard his sister's voice. 

“Fuck off, Malfoy, and leave me alone!” 

Fucking hell. 

He rushed forward, and the others, hearing her, too, joined him. Hermione was standing a few feet from the library doors, her back pressed against the wall, her wand out. 

Remus shoved one of the Slytherins who had her blocked and stood in front of Hermione, his arms wide. 

“Is there a problem here?” he growled. 

James’ hair stood on the back of his neck. He had never heard Remus sound menacing. He was always quiet and the brains of the group. 

James joined him, and soon Peter and Sirius were next to him, blocking Hermione from view. 

He looked at Malfoy and narrowed his eyes. “Is there a problem, Malfoy?” 

Malfoy tossed his long blond hair over his shoulder dramatically and grinned. “There’s no problem,” he looked around them and looked directly at Hermione, “Right, pet?” 

Remus hissed, and Hermione reached out and grabbed Remus’ robes to keep him in place. 

“There’s no problem, they were just leaving.” 

“That’s right,” Malfoy said. “Remember what I said, pet.” 

Then they sauntered away, laughing. 

James waited a beat and turned to look at his sister to check for injuries, but Remus had her in his arms and hugged her tightly. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he said as she stared over his arm and locked eyes with James. “They won’t hurt you, we’ll make sure of it.” 

James tugged at Hermione, and Remus let her go, but kept a hand on her back as James held his sister. His heart was hammering in his chest. The mere thought of something happening to her made his hackles rise. She was so fucking small. Yes, she was fierce, but Malfoy and his goons outnumbered and outweighed her, too. 

What the fuck did they want with her?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled. “Thank you for showing up,” she said. 

“We’ll be with you at all times,” he said. 

Sirius and Peter petted her hair, and Remus narrowed his eyes at them. 

Hermione snorted and pulled back. She wasn’t crying, but she looked cheesed off. “There’s no need for that. You can’t follow me to my dorms, or the loo,” she said. 

Sirius snorted. “I’m sure we could find a way,” he said. 

“Fuck off, Sirius, you won’t even try. I’m fine, Malfoy is just full of himself.” 

“We a—all know that,” Pete said. “B—but, we will protect you, Hermione. You’re one of us!” 

“Thanks, Pete, but it’s fine, honestly. He won’t bother me again.” 

“Are you sure?” James asked. 

“Not unless he wants me to hex his bullocks off,” she said with a giggle. 

His frame relaxed, and he dropped his arms, letting Hermione go. “Let us walk you to your common room.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he just wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and Remus grabbed her bag, and they did just that.