FicWad

They stayed there for an hour.
Hermione was sat on the desk in the corner, leaning into the stone wall, with her legs tucked up under her chin. She watched Remus with tired eyes.
He was sat, cross-legged, on the floor, fixing a part of the miniature Hogwarts that had fallen down. He looked so transfixed, deep in thought and a small frown drew his eyebrows loosely together. Hermione let her eyes rake over his pale skin, which looked even paler in the soft glow of the fairy lights above them. The golden parts of his hair seemed to shine, and his almost invisible scars could be seen only by the shadows they cast.
He was beautiful, she concluded, in a way that the stars were beautiful, if only for the way they shone against the darkness.
Seemingly sensing his eyes on her, Remus looked up, his own eyes wide and startled. He smiled at her, his wonky smile sleepy and soft. She let herself smile back.
It was a dangerous game, Hermione realised; this meddling with the past. She could feel herself growing ever fonder of the four boys, the Marauders. She could feel her heart slowly but surely opening up for them, enveloping them all. She knew that they had affected her more profoundly then she would ever have deemed possible. But she didn’t know why. Even now, her head ached, just thinking about it.
“Hermione.”
But it wasn’t like she asked to be thrown back in time. Hurtled, would be a more effective word. She didn’t ask for any of this! She didn’t ask to be here, to be alive and breathing when the people who deserved it more than anything, were dead. They weren’t even six feet underground; they were just a number, one more to the perpetually growing body count; they were just a collection of mangled limbs and dust and bones, shrouded on the battlefield, tangled in with the despair of loss.
“Hermione.”
She jolted out of her thoughts. “Oh.”
Remus frowned at her, lips quirked upwards, tilting his head to the side. He asked, “Where do you go?”
Hermione licked her lips, feeling shaky. “Nowhere extraordinary.”
“Well, I refuse to believe that the inside of your mind is anything short of extraordinary.”
The simplicity with which he said it had her stomach erupting in butterflies. She closed her eyes, swallowing and the air scratched her throat.
“Don’t,” she said lowly.
Remus looked shocked. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like you know me,” she opened her eyes, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. There was silence, and she added, in a voice that was almost desperate, “Please.”
He didn’t reply. He didn’t even speak. When Hermione chanced a glance at him, he was staring at his hands, which were folded in his lap. She felt heavy, and tears threatened to flood her eyes but she blinked them away.
Eventually, she dragged her attention away and said, “We should be going back.”
Remus just nodded.
They both got to their feet, and made their way out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he waved his wand and the fairy lights detangled themselves from the stonework, quickly retracting into nonexistence. The room became inundated with darkness once more and Hermione watched the model drown before the door closed.
Walking in silence, the early morning sun swarmed in warm streams through the high windows. It was such a different castle to the one they had walked through just over an hour previous; this side of the castle was comforting and alive, almost breathing. Hermione wished she could absorb its serenity.
Without a word, they reached the Common Room and Remus pushed open the sleeping portrait, holding it for her to walk through. She almost laughed bitterly at his ability to still be a perfect gentlemen, despite her rudeness. But she didn’t. She couldn’t over the sinking feeling in her gut.
They both stopped once they were inside, awkwardly avoiding the other’s eye, looking at everything else. Remus had shoved his hands in his pockets. Hermione inhaled deeply.
“I’ll just go get dressed,” he said suddenly, breaking the quietness. She nodded, and he walked over to his dormitory, before he hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He turned to look at her, something dying on his lips, before Remus closed his mouth, turned back around and disappeared through the door.
Hermione twisted her fingers in her hair, moving to collapse on the sofa. She felt her shoulders rise and drop, and a sob made its way up her throat.
“Are you alright?”
She lifted her head quickly, and through her blurred vision, saw a flash of red before the tears fell. A shuddering gasp escaped her mouth. The other girl rushed forward, sitting beside her, and pulling her close.
Hermione collapsed. She sobbed on the girl’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her.
“It’s okay,” Lily said, murmuring the words in her ear, clutching her tighter. “It’s okay. Get it all out. It’s okay.”
Hermione recognised her voice, recognised the flaming hair and soft embrace. Lily. And so, Hermione wept. She wept for Harry, with his green eyes and dark hair and bright grin. She wept for Ron, God, Ron! With his freckles and jokes and lopsided smiling eyes. She wept for Draco, the boy with no choice at all.
Lily was shocked. Well, that was an understatement. She had no idea why the new girl was crying, least of all why she was crying in her arms, when they’d perhaps spoken a total of five words to one another. But she didn’t mind. Hermione (yes, that was her name) had broken down, and Lily was simply glad she could be the comfort craved.
She wasn’t usually up this early, but this wasn’t a usual day. It was Petunia’s birthday, which explained why she couldn’t sleep or even stay in bed another minute. She remembered, years ago, when they had been two little girls, blinded by their love, and she woke up extra early, more excited than her sister. Tuney never minded. She found it sweet, and secretly felt overjoyed at the fact that her little sister liked celebrating her birthday.
Lily bit her lip, dropping her head into the crook of Hermione’s neck.
But that was the past. Before she received her Hogwarts letter, before she met Severus, before Petunia hated her.
Finally, Hermione sniffed, extracting herself from Lily’s arms. She smiled shakily, her eyes red and wet.
“Hermione,” Lily began softly, her thumb rubbing circles on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Through her tears, the muggeborn witch, with her long red hair and bright eyes, resembled Ginny with such a vivid starkness that Hermione felt empty all over again. This wasn’t the way it should be. This wasn’t the way it should have ended.
She wanted to tell Lily everything. Although that was completely out of the question, she wanted to hold Lily’s hand and tell her that the world had ended, that the world was going to end in just two years. Hermione wanted to tell her that she needed to fall in love with James now, and that she was going to give birth to the most beautiful, loving boy she would ever know.
But instead, she said, and her voice shattered as it left her lips, “I just want to go home…”
Lily’s heart broke, then. Without saying anything, she encircled her arms around Hermione. One arm wrapped across her shoulders, clutching her close and securely; the other held the back of her head. She remembered her wonderings of the girl who fell from the ceiling; there were so many questions that surrounded her! But all of that was wiped from Lily’s mind and it was replaced by the pity that choked her, for a girl who was lost, perhaps from even herself.


As soon as the door closed behind him, Remus leaned against it. He exhaled deeply, eyes lifted to the ceiling.
He had no idea what he had done. In all honesty, he had no idea why he cared at all. It wasn’t as though he liked Hermione, not like that. He thought she was pretty, yes, but that didn’t mean he liked her. She just had nice eyes, and nice hair. And he supposed she smelt nice too.
Oh Merlin, what was happening to him? He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Remy?” Sirius’ voice called grudgingly from the darkness of the room.
Remus swallowed. “Hey Sirius.”
There was silence. Despite the sun rising outside, the curtains had been charmed years ago to block out the light. Only James was a morning person. Then, he said, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Remus licked his lips, messing up his hair. “Something like that.”
There was a sigh, and the sound of someone throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. He let his head fall back against the door again.
Sirius knew everything about him. Although they clashed, argued more often than not, there was perhaps no one else who understood Remus Lupin as much as Sirius Black did.
“Shit. 6am? We’ve still got another hour!”
And yet, despite the animosity to his words, his voice was gentle. Through the darkness, Remus could make out his friend sitting on the edge of his bed. Sirius looked tired, and sad.
“C’mere.”
His voice was quiet, and Remus stared at him, unmoving, before he dejectedly made his way to sit beside him.
The two sat in content silence, just lost souls drowning in the sea of insomnia.
Sirius reached out, taking Remus’ hand and threaded his fingers through his hair. Remus made an exasperated sound, pulling away. “Sirius-”
He sighed, grabbing his wrist to keep it in place. “It calms you just as much as it calms me.”
“I’m not petting you.” Contradicting this, Remus allowed Sirius to place his hand back in his hair, and he slowly started running his fingers through it.
“Why were you awake?” Remus mumbled, as Sirius curled up, resting his head in his lap.
“Nightmare.”
He felt his throat block up.
“Hermione didn’t come back last night,” Sirius went on, his voice barely above a murmur. His eyes were closed, eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones.
“She-” Remus swallowed. “She was with me.”
Sirius frowned.
“We went on a walk.”
He didn’t speak.
“We-”
“She’s hiding something from us,” he finally said, although he didn’t seem overly concerned. “I don’t know what. I was half-asleep when I heard them talking.”
Remus froze. His hand halting in his ministrations. Sirius whined slightly, nuzzling his head.
“Them?”
Almost asleep, he mumbled, “Dumbledore. They were… talking about time.”
Time? Now, he definitely felt sick.
“What do you mean?” Remus whispered.
Sirius’ tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “He was warning her. Dumbledore.” He didn’t say anything else on the matter, but said again, “She’s hiding something.”
Remus grappled for rational explanations. “She was in a war. Of course she’s hiding something.”
He shook his head, humming. “Something… big.”
His heart honestly stopped beating, and Remus cleared his throat, focusing on the path of his hands and said, “What was your nightmare about?”
Sirius’ Adam apple bobbed against Remus’ knee. “My mum found me.”
He didn’t even need to explain. That sentence was enough. Those four words were enough.
He felt Sirius’ breathing level out, heard his deep, reverberating inhalations. Remus threaded his fingers through his hair carefully and murmured, “You’re safe here. Get some sleep.”
And even though he thought his friend had already been taken by the clutches of a deep, long-awaited slumber, Sirius heard and felt again that feeling of complete and total belonging.
oOoOo
James woke himself up, with a loud snore that came from his own mouth. He blinked, dazed, throwing his arm off of his head and was quick to jump into action.
He got out of bed, collecting a fresh set of uniform from his drawers. About to get dressed, he paused.
A soft smile curled his lips, and James felt a sudden surge of affection. Draped across the bottom of Sirius’ bed was Remus, laid back, head almost dangling off the other side. His mouth was open, and black bags framed his sleep-deprived eyes. One hand was across his chest, the other tanged in Sirius’ hair. Sirius was curled in a ball, cuddling Remus’ leg.
It was weird to James. Before Hogwarts, he’d never experienced this; never even known that life could be harsh as well as generous. And then he’d met eleven year old Sirius Black, with bruises in places you wouldn’t ever see, and nightmares that had him screaming in the middle of the night. And Remus Lupin, who was quiet and mumbling, and couldn’t bear to open himself up in fear of rejection. And Peter Pettigrew, with a stutter and shake and a crippling social anxiety that had him heaving at the thought of people.
Glancing at his third friend, he saw Peter tucked up, arms wrapped around himself, looking, in sleep, like a child.
James shook these feelings from his head, instead getting changed swiftly and making his way into the bathroom to wash his face.
When he came back out, Peter was awake, drowsily trying to tie his tie, but his fingers kept slipping and he couldn’t seem to get it right. James sighed, moving over to stand in front of him. He pushed his fumbling fingers out of the way, and proceeded to do it for him.
James stepped back, messing his hair up before going to pick up his bag.
Peter looked over at him, curiosity pulling his eyebrows into a frown.
James stared back, slightly perplexed. He whipped around to see if there was anyone or anything behind him before, realising that Peter was in fact talking to him, said dubiously, “What?”
The mousy boy shook his head slightly, clearing it. “Nothing.”
James raised an eyebrow.
Peter gave in, and continued, “It’s just- Okay, you know after you left with Sirius in Defence?”
James’ jaw clenched and he gave one curt nod.
“Okay, well you missed Hermione’s boggart. It was creepy, man! You should’ve seen it! You-Know-Who! But anyway, before that… it was this boy and he- he looked like you.”
Frowning, James stopped. He looked at Peter. “Beg pardon?”
Pete sighed, running a hand over his cheek, dragging the skin down. It seemed like he was always perpetually despaired when someone actually listened to him. “It’s stupid, I know. But- I mean, same hair, same face, just different eyes. It was weird.”
And, as if what he had said was nothing, he leaned down to pick up his bag and left the dormitory, leaving a bewildered James behind.
He glanced at the two still sleeping forms on the bed, and deliberated whether or not he should wake them. On one hand, they were obviously shattered from a sleepless night, but it was school. But he could easily cover for them. They’d done it before.
He followed Peter out of the dorm.
The first thing he saw was the back of Lily’s head. She was sat on the sofa next to Hermione, chatting away and James cocked his head, as their conversation reached his ears.
“-I love them! They’re literal geniuses!”
“Oh! God! You’ve no idea how nice it is to speak to someone about this!” Lily exclaimed. “There aren’t many Muggleborns here that I can talk to about music, but I miss The Beatles so much!”
James, baffled, said, “What?”
Both their heads shot to look at him. Hermione’s eyes were soft and she smiled wearily at him, reminding him of Remus after the nights he couldn’t sleep. Lily’s eyes were bright and he had never seen her happier to see him.
“The Beatles,” she repeated, beaming at him. His heart jumped, thumping in his throat.
He blinked. “Are you meaning to tell me that Muggles worship beetles? Beetles? Like, black scuttery beetles?”
The two girls exchanged a look, before bursting into laughter. Their mirth echoed around the tower, and James felt both simultaneously pleased and offended. Peter bounded over to them, with a coffee-skinned girl in his wake. She had black hair, and almost black eyes and a round face.
“Mary!” Lily cried, dragging her friend to sit beside her. “This is Hermione!”
Mary’s eyes widened and she smiled toothily and said, “Mary MacDonald! It’s so nice to meet you.” Then, she turned to Lily and said, “Where’s Marlene?”
“Probably dead to the world.”
Her eyes bugged out of her head at this. “It’s 7!”
Lily, mimicking her horrified voice, said, “It’s Marlene!”
Hermione smiled, turning to look at the two boys. James was pleasantly engaged in the conversation, although she doubted he really cared. He was a surprising gentlemen, forever polite and civil in front of Lily. Peter was in a similar state, though he was much less adapt at hiding it. His cheeks were a bright pink and his eyes followed Mary’s every movement with a sort of avid fascination.
She yawned quietly, and three sets of eyes shot to her. Apologetically, and quite overwhelmed by this concern, Hermione said, “I didn’t sleep last night.”
Lily smiled gently at her, rubbing her hand. Peter looked worried beyond belief. James licked his lips, eyes trying to bore into her, silently asking if she was okay, if she needed anything, if she needed him.
“Why don’t we go to breakfast?” Lily announced, clapping her hands and jumping to her feet.
Mary got up too, stretching. Her large eyes settled on Peter. “Are you coming?”
Suddenly flushed, he said, “I-I’m not really hungry.” But the growl of his stomach gave him away and he cringed, his face going even redder.
“Really, Pettigrew?” She asked, eyebrow raised, but she was grinning.
With James, Mary and Peter leading the way, the five of them left the Common Room. Lily slowed her pace to walk beside Hermione.
She let her fingertips ghost her arm, and when the other girl looked at her, Lily smiled gently. She said, “I know it’s not the same. I know it’s not even remotely the same, but if you want, you can join our family. We can make this your home.”
And Hermione had to bite her lip to contain her sob, because in Lily’s emerald eyes, earnest and kind, she saw Harry.