A/N: Thank you all for your company this week. :) My most graceful curtsy to those who have taken time to send me notes. And to Katmom, who keeps me on the straight and narrow, many effusions of gratitude. :)

You will not be getting all the answers, here, as I'm not Agatha Christie and this is not a novel. Alas. But the mystery of the Runic Letters is solved herein, as to author and intent, which is what I was going for. And we're back with Hermione Jean!

Part the Fourth, 3 September 1985

"Thank you for dinner," Jean Dagworth said after Harry had been given hot chocolate (dosed lightly with Sleeping Draught) and sent to bed. "I know you have questions for me, and I appreciate that you held them until now."

Remus couldn't help but smile at her, even though he and Sirius still harbored suspicions about her role. "We appreciate that you're willing to talk to us, rather than just send us cryptic messages." At her blush, he almost reached across the table to touch her loosely clenched fist, but he refrained and hoped that, when they were done with this very important discussion, he might be able to escort her home. All evening, he'd found himself getting distracted by her. The long, soft curls of her hair, which she'd worn loose, caught the lamp light with golden accents. The way her Muggle skirt and blouse flattered her feminine curves. The animation in her gaze when talking to Harry about something he'd learned that day. She'd been well-spoken all evening. Guarded, yes, but that was to be expected. Still, she'd proven well-read and open to conversation.

Sirius cleared his throat and laid his wand in plain view atop the table, next to his wineglass. "We didn't dose your wine or anything, Miss Dagworth, and I'm hoping we don't have to." His tone was implacable as he continued. "Harry had a good day at your school today and I'd hate to withdraw him."

"I'd prefer that he stay as a student as well, Mister Black. Here, let me put my wand on the table as well, if that will ease your mind." She did so, then placed her hands on the table as she had before. "All right, then. Where shall we begin?"

After exchanging a quick look with his friend, Remus leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "I suppose we could begin at the beginning."

She flashed a quick, wry smile. "Whose beginning? Yours or mine?"

Sirius barked a sharp laugh that had little humor, but still an appreciation for the awkwardness of the question. "There's more than one, then?" With a shrug, Miss Dagworth indicated there was. Sirius nodded and leaned back in his chair, his legs stretching out under the table. "Fine. Ours, then. Remus said he got a note." He grimaced and Remus could see that his best mate was having a hard time referring to that Hallowe'en night."

"Ah. Yes. Well. All right." Jean Dagworth nodded slowly. "First thing, then. I'm known here as Jean Dagworth, but that's not the name I was born with. I was born Hermione Jean Granger, with ties going back to Hector Dagworth-Granger, the Potioneer. When I knew I'd be coming here, I felt it would be best to take on a new identity to keep things from getting complicated in the future."

"Hermione Granger," Remus repeated aloud, feeling the name scratching in his memory. "I've seen that name before. Just a moment."

He pushed himself back from the table and ran at half a jog up the stairs to his bedroom, where he'd kept the Runic documents from years ago, as well as the Potters' will. Sirius had tasked him with keeping them, as his wards were more complicated than Sirius usually used. With a few passes of his wand—he'd not left his on the table—he opened the small box made of Australian curly jarrah wood. It had a reddish cast and reflected the light beautifully in minute swirls in the wood grain. The Muggle paper and the parchments they'd received from Miss Dagworth-Granger were intact and rustled pleasantly in his hand as he returned to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the table, he tossed one of the parchments in front of their guest. "You signed the will, James's and Lily's will!"

"I did, yes."

Sirius leapt to his feet, his wand in his hand once more, though it wasn't quite pointing at Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger. "How did you know . . . ?"

She put her hands up as if in surrender and met Sirius's narrowed eyes before locking gazes with Remus himself. "This is the hard part. I was born in 1979. Harry Potter is—was—my best friend in the entire world. And, after everything he had to do, after all he'd lost, he was . . . empty, there at the end. All of Wizarding Britain was thrilled but my Harry . . . he had nothing left. Nothing." All the while, she'd never released Remus from her gaze and he found that he believed her entirely. His heart actually clenched at the pain and loss she conveyed in her whispered explanation.

Sirius wasn't immune, either. He collapsed heavily on his chair and coughed a little. "What happened?"

She turned, then, and Remus settled himself on his own chair once more as she spoke. "Remus wasn't there. Pettigrew had been named Secret Keeper, but everyone thought it was you, Mister Black. And when Hagrid was told by Dumbledore to get Harry, you were very angry and went off to get Pettigrew."

"I would have killed him if I'd seen him," Sirius said between clenched jaws. "And it's Sirius. Please."

"And I'm Hermione. Or Jean, if you prefer. That's who I am, now. Somewhere, Hermione Jean Granger is living in London with her parents…but I'm not her. Not anymore."

. . . .

Remus listened carefully to everything she said, but focusing on her words became increasingly difficult as the evening went on. What she had seen, what she knew, what she had sacrificed, all of that combined with how she spoke, the way she moistened her lips with her tongue, the feminine gestures, the way her gaze rested on him for perhaps a second or two longer than it did on Sirius. Her eyes would dilate, and after a while, he could sense . . . something else on her. Something wild and consuming.

It was a distraction.

"Harry was my family," she was saying, slumping against the straight back of her chair. "The only family I had left, after the war." She'd told them how Voldemort returned in her time, and how she was determined to give her best friend a happy life, as it hadn't been, in her time. "He deserved to have better. Deserved to live with people who loved him. I knew you would, Remus, Sirius. I knew you'd love him. I tried to save the Potters, though. I did. But I didn't know what kind of wards they had up then and—the location was Kept, of course, so . . ."

Remus felt tears burn in his own eyes, too. "Yeah. We know."

They learned of the horcruxes, and Sirius almost threw up at the idea of one being stuck in Harry's head, even now. "We'll figure out how to fix that," Remus assured him, gripping his hand across the table.

Their guest's brows flew up momentarily and she blushed before looking to her wineglass and finishing its contents in one swallow. "I've been researching that for years. We'll find something. I'm sure of it."

Sirius pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to look in on him."

"I understand," Jean—Hermione—said, rising as well. "I'll just be going, then. I know this has all been a shock for you two."

"I'll walk you home," Remus said immediately.

"You don't have to, honestly," their guest retorted.

Sirius smiled for the first time all evening. "Oh, he really does. Thank you for coming, Miss Dagworth. Seriously. We'll keep your secrets, of course. And I hope we can talk about all of this again when I'm not ready to be sick everywhere."

The night air was quite cool, so Remus cast a warming charm about them as they reached the road and turned right. He offered her his arm and she took it, her hand a firm pressure against him. "So, you know about, about me and my, er, furry little problem?"

Looking about, she nodded. "Lycanthropy? Yes, I know. I knew then, too. It never mattered to me. I mean, I felt—and feel—dreadfully that you have to suffer with it, but it isn't all that you are, Remus. It never has been."

Heat flowed over him all at once, as if he'd been hit with the most comforting warming charm in wizarding history, but it pooled in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe as they continued walking slowly on the path. "Thank you, Hermione. That's very kind of you to say."

"You were one of our professors, Harry's and mine, you know." She smiled up at him for a moment. "Best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we ever had."

He had to chuckle at that, reaching to cover her hand with his own. She didn't pull away. "Well, I guess I must have done all right, eh? You've got a Mastery in the subject."

She tilted her head a little and said in a saucy tone, "Oh, Harry had a lot to do with that, as well."

They reached her home—the Magical Day School—all too soon. At the gate, he made bold enough to take both her hands in his. "Might I call on you again?" She might have been a Muggle-born and he was only half-blood himself, but the Potters had taught him, Sirius, and James all the proper forms.

"So formal, Mister Lupin?"

"Remus," he reminded her. "You've always called me Remus. Why?"

Her lips parted; he could see them by the lights that shone from some of the school windows. "You, you asked us to, once. But now, that's all going to be changed, and I wonder—I wonder if Hermione Granger will ever get to know you and what that might mean for me."

"Or for Harry." Or me, he added silently.

"Harry's happy and he's loved," Hermione stated with conviction. "That's what was most important." She squeezed his hands lightly. "I should be getting in."

He didn't let her go just yet. "You didn't answer my question, you know."

"Oh. Yes, yes of course you may, Remus. I, I would like that. Very much."

. . . .

8 July 1986

"Horcruxes?" Albus Dumbledore dropped his teacup, breaking the handle off on the edge of his ancient desk.

Remus performed a simple, silent Reparo as the Headmaster collected himself. "That's what we were told, Professor," he said, reaching for Hermione's hand and lacing his fingers with hers. They'd been dating for almost a year now. She'd helped him after two full moons, as her teaching schedule had allowed, and she still let him touch her. He was amazed by his own good fortune; his father had said he'd never have that.

"I'm glad Mister Black is out giving Harry a tour of the school. The boy does not need to know of these things," Dumbledore stated, irritation practically flaring from him in visible waves.

Hermione leaned forward, but she kept holding Remus's hand. "Perhaps not today, but we need to get rid of them. As soon as possible, Professor. So that no one needs to deal with them. I have a list of what they are and where they were in my time as well as where they might be now, in yours. Some careful investigations will lead us to them, I'm sure, and a wizard of your power will certainly be able to destroy them before Voldemort seeks to return to the world."

"No. I cannot condone exposing anyone to such dark magic, Miss Dagworth." Dumbledore had only been told her current name, so that he would not be prejudiced against her before even sending her her Hogwarts letter, she'd said.

Remus was not inclined to argue with her; she'd improved lives and was determined to save who knew how many hundreds more. "Sir," he said, trying to keep his tone polite and even. "What reason could there be not to do this?"

Dumbledore glared at him, no twinkle in his eyes. "The prophecy," he said, his voice quiet but still filling the office. From the corner of his eye, Remus saw many of the portraits move in obvious discomfort.

"Bugger the prophecy!" Hermione blushed immediately after her outburst. "Sorry, Headmaster. Sorry, Remus. Truly. Sir. If we can circumvent the prophecy, that will negate it, making the future better. I'm sure of it."

"Miss Dagworth," Dumbledore began.

She held up a hand and, surprisingly, the Headmaster closed his mouth. "Remus? Would you leave Headmaster Dumbledore and I alone for a moment? I may have a way to convince him, but I don't want you to have to hear it." She turned and smiled at him in a way that felt intimate, to Remus, but also careful. "Truly. It's all right. I just—I don't, I—"

He lifted her hand that he still held to his lips to kiss her palm. She sighed softly and he didn't even try to restrain his grin. "Professor. I'll see if I can track down Sirius and Harry."

When he returned half an hour later, with Harry going on about all the wonders he'd seen, Hermione was calmly drinking a cup of what smelled like Earl Grey tea, chatting with Dumbledore.

"Miss Dagworth!" Harry called, "I saw so many things! Did you know that there are house-elves here? And that they have big ears and—"

"I do indeed, Harry. So glad you got to meet some. They're wonderful people." She then encouraged Harry to stand right next to her and tell her, in his "inside voice", what other wonders he'd seen that day. This served to keep the boy's attention and Remus had to commend her delicacy.

Sirius leaned back against the office door. "So? Professor?"

Dumbledore exchanged a quick look with Hermione—who apparently missed nothing—and smoothed down his beard. "Miss Dagworth has given me a list; I'll be collecting the items for disposal. I'll be in touch before the school year starts, Mister Black."

Later, on their way out of Hogwarts Castle to Apparate to Hogsmead and, from there, to take a Floo back to Hermione's school, Remus felt he had to ask. "How'd you get him to go along with you?" No one else heard, as Sirius and Harry were having a footrace to the edges of the school's wards.

Hermione blew out a breath, her cheeks quite pink, and she shook out her hair. "I told him something I knew from before," she said at last, sounding terribly uncomfortable. "Something he would not want anyone to know. I told him if he refused to hunt for the horcruxes as soon as he could, I'd make that information known to, to certain people who would be very unhappy about it."

Remus felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. "Hermione! You blackmailed the Headmaster?" He still held her hand, but his fingers went cold.

She tugged her hand out of his. "Yes. I did. And I'd do it again if it meant keeping that dark bastard from getting a new body to house a piece of his soul!"

He couldn't argue with her reason, but he felt uncomfortable about it. Still, when she invited him for supper that night, he went.

He didn't return home until morning.

Sirius didn't stop teasing him about the smile on his face for a week.

. . . .

27 July 1991

"Mmm. How's that?"

Remus rumbled contentedly as his wife massaged his upper back on the afternoon after the latest full moon. "Perfect, love. Just perfect. Oh, right there. Thank you."

She grunted a bit and shifted so that she was straddling his bum. "Ooh, you've got a knot, here."

"Yeah. Careful, now."

Her chuckle was warm, her touch direct as she worked the knot out with a combination of her fingers and a quietly whispered spell. "There. Better?"

"All kinds of better, thank you." He rolled under her and slid his hands up her bare arms, shifting his body to align with hers. "And that's even better."

"Remus . . ."

"What? The kids won't be back from Padfoot's for at least another hour."

"That's because he wants to make sure you can rest, sweetheart." She slid to one side and nestled against his shoulder. "So rest."

"I will. As soon as I make you scream, wife."

"Honestly!"

Making Hermione call his name at the height of passion was only one of the things that made Remus's life idyllic, he decided as he woke up some time later. She was still dozing, so he slid from their bed, tugged up the lavender-scented sheet, and kissed her forehead before getting dressed. His keen hearing had detected Harry's voice, along with his own children's.

So he hurried down the stairs to meet them in the parlor. "Shhh, Jean's asleep," he told the green-eyed boy with the black hair.

"Oh, okay. Hear that? Shush," Harry told the green-eyed boy with the brown hair.

It was something Remus chuckled about with Sirius and Hermione: all of the kids had green eyes. Harry's were that bright green that had so characterized Lily Evans, back in the day. Remus's son and daughter had green eyes as well, just as he did. Llew, his firstborn, was named after the lions of Gryffindor and he did indeed have the Gryffindor temperament. His daughter, Gwylan, had eyes of a darker green, more like moss than anything else. Her name meant seagull, in the tongue of traditional Pwllheli, and Hermione (who had of course learnt as much Welsh as she could over the past several years) had seen a seagull at the very moment she began to labor with their little girl, so that was the name she received.

Llew, at the grand age of three, nodded gravely and held tight to his little sister's hand. She was barely a year younger—something Sirius still found profoundly amusing—but didn't have to be told to be quiet; she rarely spoke. Her big brother did all the talking.

"Thanks, Harry, for bringing them home," Remus said. "Want something to drink? A snack? How's Pads?"

"Oh, he actually asked if I could stay here for a bit, Uncle Moony." Harry grinned and Remus's heart ached just a bit, as it always did when he could see James peeking out of the boy's face. "Dad's going to Floo to Diagon Alley and talk with the Goblins." He screwed his face up into some odd expression. "Something about my birthday and a ritual or something? Is it a big deal to turn eleven?"

Hiding his concern and edgy hope, Remus ruffled Harry's hair. "You know it is. That's when you get to go to Hogwarts. You'll make friendships that will last your whole life, there." He picked up Gwylan and held her in his right arm while Llew bolted to the kitchen to rummage in the child-approved snack shelves.

"Like you and Dad, yeah?"

"Yeah. And your father, James. And your mum."

"What about Jean? You know, I'll miss Day School."

He nuzzled Gwylan's curly blond hair. "We'll miss you as well, you know." Remus had joined the staff of the Magical Day School. "But we expect you to owl us, at least once in a while, right?"

"Right. Of course." Harry's smile was a bit droopy but it served well enough. "So can I stay?"

"Sure. I'll send a message to your dad."

. . . .

31 July 1991

"Ice cream right after, I promise," Sirius whispered to Harry as they entered Gringotts on Diagon Alley. Remus was with them, of course, and had promised to use the enchanted mirror to get in touch with his wife should they need a quick third opinion.

She was really unhappy that she couldn't go. "I started this, I want to be there when it's finished," she'd complained.

Remus had rubbed her feet, being gentle with swollen ankles and her hormonal temper. "I know, love. But it's not safe to be near that kind of dark magic when you're pregnant."

"I know that. I'm just not happy about it."

That afternoon, Remus was nervous, sweating and everything, in anticipation of what was going to happen. After years of research, of unconventional experimentation that he wasn't sure he wanted to know about, but that Sirius had worked on with Dumbledore and some Unspeakables from the Ministry, a solution had been found.

They could remove a piece of a soul from a live host, thereby destroying the horcrux while preserving the life of the host. Sirius had come home pale, on occasion, over the past couple of years, but a hug from his son was all he needed to recover, it seemed.

"I want lots of chocolate sauce," Harry said, looking a bit pale himself. He clutched Sirius's hand, though he had called that kind of behavior "for babies" not long after Llew had been born. "And can I have an owl?"

Sirius laughed. "Well, I have it on good authority that you're getting an owl, so . . ."

"Excellent!"

A Goblin approached them at that moment, his suit pressed and his words enunciated so clearly that he might have been a Muggle machine. "Mister Black? Mister Potter? I'm Ragnok, experienced Curse-breaker and Goblin in good standing. We've prepared a ritual space in one of the older vaults. They're deeper, you understand, and better shielded."

Harry nodded and extended his hand to shake Ragnok's which clearly startled the Goblin. "Mister Ragnok. I'm Harry Potter. Thank you for, for this. My dad said it's dangerous, so I appreciate what you're offering us."

Ragnok cocked his head. "Yes. Well. It will be good for business. And that's good for Gringotts. Come."

Remus, who still had gone unintroduced, merely followed the others as they strode through the bank, to the carts in a stone passage. He'd been here often, over the years, and Sirius had made sure Harry was familiar with the Potter vault as well as the Black. The Lupin vault wasn't nearly as impressive, but Remus liked to think he was doing his part to see to the future.

As always, the ride to the lower vaults was wild enough to make a man lose his lunch, which was why Remus hadn't done so before coming to Diagon Alley that day.

"Dad! This is mad! Awesome, but mad!" Harry laughed, all worries seemingly left behind in the marble halls above.

Still, when the cart came to a halt, the boy blew out a breath and had to be lifted bodily from the cart. Then, Sirius's hand on his shoulder, he entered the vault with Ragnok, to be met by two other Goblins and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy. So good to see you. Happy birthday, lad."

The mirror in Remus's pocket vibrated and he slid it from his robes, turning to give himself some bit of privacy. "Hello, love."

Hermione's precious face peered at him from the glass. "How is he? How's Harry?"

"They're about ready to get started. I'll get in touch as soon as it's done. I love you."

"You, too. Give him my best, will you? Please?"

"Of course."

"Mum! Mum, Gwyl's gone and dumped the snack shelf!" Llew's vibrant voice reached Remus's ear without any aid.

He smiled. "Go on. I'll be back soon. Want me to bring you some ice cream from Fortescue's?"

"Strawberry."

Sirius poked his head out of the vault, his eyes wide and a bit wild. "Remus? You coming or are you going to stay out there all day?"

He said a quick goodbye to his wife and joined the others in the vault. Runes had been etched into Goblin gold and arranged carefully about the shielded space. Harry, who had grown into a tall young man for his age, stood in the middle of the space, his feet carefully within the center of a pentagram that had been carved into the stone floor. "Uncle Moony?"

"I'm right here, lad. And your Aunt Jean sends you her love."

"All right, now. We're going to immobilize him, Mister Black," Ragnok said, his tone businesslike—of course—and matter-of-fact. "Mister Potter, this will hurt, but it will also work. And when we're done, we've got pain potions for you, all right? You look to be a fine lad; you should do well."

"Y-yes, sir, Mister Ragnok."

"If you have to cry, Harry, it's all right," Sirius murmured unable to reach the boy he'd raised as his own since Harry was still in nappies. Remus could see that was killing him, but if this meant the very end of Voldemort, the end of the monster that had killed James and Lily and so many others, it was worth it.

Hermione had told him, more than once through the years, what her Harry had had to live through. The confrontations with Voldemort at Hogwarts, of all places. The dangers of a Triwizard Tournament where Harry was Portkeyed and tortured and almost killed far from all who loved him. The trap at the Ministry where Sirius had been killed in that order of events. The hunt for the horcruxes, made on their own and largely without aid. The final battle where he, Remus, had been killed while defending Hermione herself . . .

Harry didn't know all of it, but he knew the basics. He knew about Voldemort. He knew how his parents had died. He knew he had the last piece of the darkest wizard of the age lodged within him. Of course he had only found that out this past week, but it was timely enough that—after a loud shouting match with Sirius—he had been able to accept it and prepare to get it out of his head.

"Merlin, help us all," Remus muttered as Dumbledore etched some Runes into the air around Harry and the boy froze, eyes pushed widely open in clear distress. That distress turned to pain, so much pain that Harry's skin went white, then red as the scar in his forehead ripped open to release a blood-red, ugly coagulant mass into the air in front of his face. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head at that, but he remained standing upright.

Dumbledore caught the mass in a Goblin-wrought chalice and held it while two other Goblins pierced the chalice with gleaming daggers of unknown origin. Ragnok kept Harry on his feet, his focus never wavering from the boy.

At last, with an eerie, high-pitched scream, the chalice seemed to explode within a carefully contained field controlled by Dumbledore. And suddenly, even the air in the vault seemed lighter.

Sirius laughed through his tears, wordlessly begging Ragnok to release Harry from stasis. When that happened, Sirius scooped his son into his arms and fell to the floor, where he continued to laugh and weep.

Remus's chest was tight, but he merely wiped at his eyes and reached for his mirror.

"It's all done, love," he murmured to Hermione, showing her Sirius and Harry on the floor of the vault. "You were amazing."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, and he could see her hand, as if she'd touch the boy from afar. "It's really gone, Remus?"

"It's really gone."

. . . .

1 September 1991

As it was Sunday, Hermione was determined to see Harry to King's Cross Station. "We're all set for tomorrow, so we might as well do this. I—I need to do this, Remus."

Hermione had Llew by the hand whilst Remus held Gwylan as they emerged from the Floo at King's Cross Station on the magical side. Nostalgia flooded Remus's thoughts and he met Sirius's gaze for just a moment before his friend was entirely occupied with getting Harry situated on the Express.

"Oh, look," Hermione whispered, tugging on Remus's free hand with her own as their children were fully occupied in watching the mad throng of people. "There I am. Or she is. Or something." A girl with a scary amount of thick, brown hair was navigating the platform all alone, a determined glint in her eye as she reached one of the lines to get on board the train at the same time as Sirius and Harry.

"Well, look at that," Remus commented. "He is a gentleman after all."

Sirius helped Harry—who had a beautiful snowy owl with him—and Hermione aboard the Hogwarts Express that Sunday morning, and the children could be seen talking awkwardly with one another while Sirius was clearly playing the Lord Black card up in a big way.

Remus wrapped one arm about his wife. "Thank you, Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger Lupin," he whispered into his wife's ear. "Thank you."

She smiled into his eyes, her own filled with happy tears. And all was well.

The End

End Note: If you'd like, I am prepared to share how Hermione blackmailed Dumbledore. Let me know in a review or PM, and I'll send that hidden moment if you are accepting PMs on your end.

Still working on a longer multi-chapter story for the HP fandom. I'll post it when it's done. :) Thank you all so much for reading! ~ LJ Summers