This was written for the Once Upon a Lifetime fest, hosted by The Restricted Section on Facebook. All the hugs to mcal and Frumpologist, who looked this over for me and reassured me!

My prompt was Hogsmeade Date, and my chosen triad is James Potter/Hermione Granger/Sirius Black. Please mind that it's an alternate universe where they are all in Hogwarts at the same time.

From the tender age of eleven, Hermione Granger knew two things. One was that she intended to do some good in the world after graduation—even if that event would be seven years in the making. Second was that James Potter and Sirius Black were trouble.

The latter had a way of driving itself home over the years.

There was something to be said about growing up with a class of over a hundred students, plus the years above and below them. She hadn't forgotten the fact that both of them hadn't always been the attractive wizards they'd grown into—broad shouldered, and no—but it seemed the rest of the world had swept that memory under the ancient rug in their common room the moment puberty hit.

And to be perfectly fair, which Hermione hated to be in this regard, puberty had run over those two like the bloody Hogwarts Express. It wasn't fair, she'd thought as puberty cleared their complexions, and her teeth remained, well, crooked. Up until a stray spell from Severus Snape that had gone awry, and Madam Pomfrey had fixed her teeth. Left her with a perfect smile to boot so at least she had something to be bloody confident about.

There was a story there about how James had stormed right to her defence, throwing Snape into the air, trussed up by one pale ankle until Professor McGonagall had broken it up, but she didn't linger on it.

Swallowing, Hermione returned to the point she had made several times over in her head. Sure, the pair of them were fit. More than that, really. They both played quidditch, and where she would have expected for that to lead to a more lanky physique, it hadn't.

A knee bumped against hers under the table, and Hermione blinked.

"Hermione, you're staring into space again." James stared down at her curiously, the corner of his mouth twitching. "What were you thinking about, love?"

Try as she might, his little terms of endearment were impossible to ignore, though she did right by herself, and didn't give a visible reaction. Somehow, she thought, the slow shiver that twisted down the length of her spine was even worse. "Nothing."

His knee bumped hers again.

"Stop that."

"Can't help it. The tables are always crowded."

"You have room to scoot down." True enough, there was a space between James and Peter Pettigrew, who slightly lifted his eyes. "Peter, you don't mind if James scoots down, do you?"

Peter ducked his head down.

"I'm saving this seat." James leaned forward, still too much taller than her, and lifted his hand. He curled a finger under her chin, and she jerked backward. If she wasn't mistaken, there had been a tiny flash of hurt across his face, and guilt pooled in her stomach.

Before she could open her mouth to apologize, owls swept into the Great Hall, dropping parcels as they crossed the room in an arc, and a box landed just in front of her. Luckily, she'd already eaten her breakfast lest her mail end up in it. "James," Hermione spoke through gritted teeth. "What is this?"

He smirked. "Padfoot had the honors of choosing this time." Not one to be deterred, James reached over, tugged the ribbon, and the sides of the box fell open.

It was a book, well, two technically since it was an first edition. Hermione dragged her fingers across the cover. Pride and Prejudice stared back at her, and her mouth dried. A hush had fallen over the Gryffindor table.

A foot kicked her lightly under the table, and she glanced up to see Sirius grinning at her, same as always. "How about Hogsmeade this weekend, kitten?"

There was that same shiver again, weaving a slow, intimate path down her spine.

Hermione glared at him, and stood without an answer, which she figured was answer enough.

It was no secret that James and Sirius were together. Everyone knew, but Hermione could hazard a guess that she'd known it was coming a touch before anyone else did. Realistically, it hadn't been a guess at all. In fifth year while on patrol as a prefect, Hermione had stumbled onto something she wasn't meant to see.

And she hadn't meant to stare, but for several long moments, she had.

In a stolen alcove, she'd seen James with his back to the wall, caged between it and Sirius, but it hadn't appeared that he'd had any mind to get out of there. They'd been kissing, and once she was certain that clothing was about to become optional, Hermione had hurried back toward the way Remus had gone, not willing to take points for being out after curfew.

It had been eye opening. The summer after fifth year, the two had come back to term, fingers threaded together, and not a single student had batted an eye. Except for Hermione, who had seemingly grown flustered by them overnight, and it would have been merciful for them not to notice.

Of course, she didn't have that sort of luck.

Through sixth year, neither of them had commented on it.

It was no secret that James and Sirius were together, just like it was no secret that they had made a show of dating witches together. Lily Evans had been the first, and the longest relationship. For reasons unknown to Hermione, it hadn't lasted, but considering all of them were still friends, it couldn't have been that bad.

Then there was Marlene McKinnon, which had been bad.

Then...Hermione had done her best not to pay attention to it. The Hogwarts rumor mill was always terribly vicious, and it wouldn't do her any favors to be swept up in it. She avoided any parts of the castle that the two boys could possibly sneak off to for a quick—or slow, it seemed—snog. Hermione orbited their friend circle, spending time with Remus on Saturdays to study, and going to quidditch matches to cheer for their house because it was what she was supposed to do.

Which would have been fine.

It really would have been if it weren't for the fact that suddenly, James was picked for head boy instead of Remus. She knew it was due to Remus' problem that presented itself every month, knew that while he was willing to be a prefect every year, the added stress of head boy would have added too much. James Potter was the next logical option, Professor McGonagall assured her when Hermione's fingers had trembled in her office at the start of term.

Determined to maintain some shred of personal dignity, Hermione aimed not to spend much time alone with James. It wasn't that he was cruel. He was pleasant, funny, terribly good looking, and for all his mischief, he actually was a good head boy. The fact remained that he was too observant for her comfort.

It had started as anything did, as nothing.

On a Saturday afternoon spent studying with Remus, his two best friends had popped up, and they hadn't left. Hermione couldn't recall exactly how the subject of flowers, of all things, had come up, but she knew now that it had been a ploy to get her talking. That Monday, flowers had been delivered to her at breakfast.

James had asked her to Hogsmeade on the spot with a smile that made her understand in a single bloody moment why witches had the ridiculous habit of swooning. She'd said no. Sirius had cocked his head to the side like the mutt she knew him to be, flashing his teeth when he smiled.

It had been nonstop ever since.

There were gifts delivered all the time, and just when she'd thought they were going to let up, Hermione was blindsided by the fact that she was wrong. Books appeared—usually rare editions that were too expensive for her to even look at, much less touch—and more flowers. Sweets from Honeydukes. Fancy quills with custom jars of ink.

What she had thought would be a passing fancy had turned into a complete infatuation.

Hermione wished that she hated it as much as she said she did.

With her hands tucked into the pockets of her robes, Hermione made her way down the corridor. It was only a matter of time before James caught up with her, but if she just kept moving, it'd take him that much longer.

That morning, Sirius had summoned flowers in the middle of Defence, and asked her to Hogsmeade. She could only imagine his counterpart would pick up right where Sirius had left off, and as terrible as it sounded, it was exhausting to continually turn them down.

Why don't you just give them a chance? While she'd wondered exactly that more than a handful of times since it had begun, it had been Lily to voice that question during Charms. They're not bad, Hermione. She knew that already. Hermione liked both of them, even if they shared a penchant for trouble.

James probably held the record for the head boy that had the most detention, honestly.

When Sirius had asked her, she'd nearly said yes. To wish that he hadn't noticed would have been too much to wish for, as Hermione knew quite well how he'd been watching her when her teeth dipped into the plush of her lower lip.

It wasn't just because Valentine's Day was nearing, she swore. Still, her words sounded hollow.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor behind her, and Hermione pivoted, prepared to tell James that he really shouldn't run in the corridors.

Except it wasn't James.

Hermione blinked, and her shoulders fell. "You shouldn't be out after curfew." Her voice softened, however, when Amos looked embarrassed. "If you go back to your common room right now, I won't dock points."

There were a handful of repeat offenders when it came to breaking curfew, and she was acquainted with all of them. Sirius was near the top of the list. Amos Diggory had never stepped a toe out of line though as far as she knew.

He rubbed the back of his neck, but then he pulled at his tie, loosening the knot at his throat. "Actually, I was hoping to catch you. It's just that you're always so busy during the day."

Unsure of what to say, Hermione didn't reply at all.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend, erm, this weekend." Amos' voice strengthened, and he straightened.

She nodded. "I'm aware."

"Right, of course you are." He raked his fingers through dark hair, tousling it, and the image struck her. "Are you looking after the students this time?"

Hermione shook her head. Her voice was somewhere trapped in her throat because what she thought was happening couldn't possibly be what was happening.

"Would you like to go with me?" Amos asked. He looked at her curiously, as if he were nervous.

She was certain her chest might burst. "I'd like that." Hermione breathed. "Really though," she rushed as James entered her vision at the end of the hall, and his footsteps quickened. "You should go back to your common room."

Grinning, Amos looked like he wanted to step forward, but he turned instead.

James caught up to her finally, not that she'd tried to move ahead of them as she was rooted to the spot. "What was that?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "I told him to go back to his common room and I wouldn't dock points. He's never broken curfew before."

He looked from her to Diggory's back, his mouth set into a grim line. "Why are you smiling like that than? Why is he?"

Bristling under the question, she almost told him it was none of his business.

"He asked me to Hogsmeade." Hermione said all at once, her head swimming when his brows drew together. "I said yes."

Eyes narrowing, and growing impossibly dark, James turned away from her, and took long strides in the opposite direction.

"We still need to finish rounds!" Hermione cried. "I know you're upset for whatever reason, but we still need to work together."

He shot a look at her, not quite a glare, but honestly she couldn't unravel it if she tried. "I am doing rounds, which is more than I can say for you."

Her heart gave a pang. "I know you're jealous—" that's what it was, wasn't it "—but you don't need to be cruel to me. I'm allowed to go to Hogsmeade with whoever I want." As her lips shaped the word cruel, his face softened, and she thought that would be enough to stop him.

But then his voice cracked through the air, rough and all authority. "Diggory! Thirty points for being out after curfew!"

"Thirty?" Hermione gaped. "It was only once, and you're only doing it because you're—" She swallowed. "Sod off."

James called out for her to just bloody wait, that it wasn't what she thought, and it wasn't only because he was a jealous bastard, though he was.

Thinking she'd heard enough, Hermione continued toward Gryffindor tower without stopping.

Eventually, he stopped calling for her and she wasn't sure why that upset her even more.

Remus sought her out first.

Well, that was a lie. She'd threatened to hex Sirius' more fragile bits when he'd tried, and she assumed Remus had been sent for damage control. He dropped into the seat across from her at their regular table in the library, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"For what it's worth, they're both sorry for their behavior."

Hermione snorted. "I don't believe that."

"I know."

His tone made her lift her head. "You believe them, don't you?"

He didn't open his bag, didn't pull his course load out, and Hermione realized he didn't intend to stay in the library with her. "I don't think I should get involved, Hermione. It's your business."

Exactly, it's my business.

"The only time I've ever been asked to Hogsmeade was the other night. It made me happy, but they've gone, and what now?"

He sighed. "Sirius and James have asked you to Hogsmeade several times. They've asked me if you truly want them to stop, you know. I've asked you if you wanted that. Do you remember what you told me?"

Lead formed in her stomach. Remus was her closest friend in Hogwarts, which made him the only one to know that she did enjoy the attention, even if it made her a horrible person to do so.

"Forgive me, but I think it's unfair to say that you've only been asked once, Hermione."

"They just like the chase." Hermione picked at her nails. "They don't want to take me to Hogsmeade."

Remus stood. "This is between you and them. I'm not going to get in the middle of it, but I think you should think about this. I know they don't have a good record with witches, believe me," he laughed under his breath. "But you've always been different to them."

"Do you think going to Hogsmeade with Amos is a bad idea?"

He exhaled through his nose. "I trust Amos Diggory about as far as I can throw him."

"Will you talk to us?" Sirius stopped her in the common room, catching her at the elbow just to draw her attention before letting go. "We acted like arses, we know."

James leaned against the armrest of the sofa, arms folded over his chest while he took a moment to look her up and down—twice. "You look beautiful."

Her stomach tightened. "Thank you. We can talk later if you like. I'm going to be late."

"Please don't go to Hogsmeade with him." Sirius blurted, and a few of their housemates slowed their steps. "It's not just that we want to take you, Hermione, please."

She'd already turned away from them. "Unless you can give me a reason, and a good one, not to go, I'll be on my way."

They looked at each other. "He's not very pleasant, and the talk that goes on in the quidditch showers gets around." James said quietly.

"Hermione!" Lily called from the portrait. "Amos is waiting for you! Should I tell him you'll meet him there?"

The boys in front of her looked more apologetic than she'd ever seen, and she very nearly stayed to hear them out.

"I'll take care of myself." She whispered. "I hope you two have a good night."

James' nostrils flared as she turned and fled the room.

It seemed she was doing a lot of that where he was involved.

As far as dates went, Hermione wasn't entirely sure it was a good one. It wasn't like, Merlin help her. It wasn't like when she received impromptu gifts from Sirius and James. Her stomach didn't flutter when Amos smiled at her, even though he was cute, or when he held her hand over the table.

Comparisons between him and her two boys bloomed at the front of her mind, which made it all the worse. It wasn't fair to compare them.

As Amos rambled about quidditch after she'd asked a question—and that was only so she wouldn't have to talk—Hermione thought it might be time to cut the date short. She didn't see it going anywhere, and it would be better not to waste his time.

The door slammed open, the bell dinging loudly, and Amos' face drained of color. It could only mean one thing, Hermione thought, and she looked over her shoulder. Both of them slid into their booth.

James' knee knocked against hers, and an arm slid around her, resting on the edge of the seat rather than her shoulders.

Sirius sat next to Amos, and rested his cheek on his knuckles. "You've got a lot of nerve." He drawled.

"The two of you might be after her, but that doesn't mean you own her." Amos spat.

Honestly, Hermione had to agree.

James twisted a curl around his finger, and there came the butterflies. "No, it definitely doesn't. We don't think we're entitled to any part of her, or her affections." There was something so off about his voice. "However, it does mean that we're looking out for her, always."

"Why would you wanna do a stupid thing like this?" Sirius's hand curled into a fist. "Would you like to tell her, or shall I?"

By that point, they had commandeered the attention of every student in the Three Broomsticks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There's a bet going around for whoever can get into your knickers first before graduation." James said too easily, and she ripped away from him.

Her eyes stung. In any direction she looked, someone would be staring at her, and the feel of their eyes on her made her stomach churn. "Are you so upset that I went to Hogsmeade with someone that you'd make up a ridiculous lie? What is it with the two of you? You just assumed that no one else would ever ask me if it weren't for a bet?"

She stood in her seat, nevermind how uncouth it was, and stepped over James' lap before leaving altogether. Still, there was a cluster of snickers that came from the corner, and it made hot tears slip down her cheeks.

Hermione didn't leave her dorm for the rest of the weekend, content to lay in bed and eat the food Lily brought her for dinner, but she'd brought bad news with her.

On some level, Hermione had believed neither James nor Sirius would lie about something as terrible as this. Much as she wanted to blame them—and much as she'd done exactly that—they had never been cruel to her.

Lily confirmed the rumor, and there was a wicked curve to her mouth.

She decided that she didn't need to know how her roommate had come to the conclusion. When Monday arrived, Hermione floated through her classes, following the mapped out movements that had been in place all year.

There were whispers about the scene in the Three Broomsticks, and she did her best not to listen to them at all. If only it were so easy.

She bumped into James between Defence and Charms, but Hermione had kept her head down even when he called out her name. There would be a time where she would have to talk to them, considering she wanted to apologize to them, but not today.

Valentine's Day crept up on her over the next week without her noticing until she overheard someone whisper about how sad it was that she was alone now for the holiday after the incident.

The onset of tears returned, and Hermione didn't go to Defence. She went to the other side of the castle, and sat on the lowest step on the stairs where she'd hidden during the Yule Ball years earlier.

She'd barely dropped her head to her crossed arms before she began to cry. Sniffling, Hermione didn't notice footsteps nearing her.

James sat beside her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Without thinking, she turned into him, and buried her face in his shoulder. "That's it, let it out, love. We'll be right here."

Sirius sat on the other side of her, and gathered her hands in his. "Shite, your hands are freezing."

She choked on a laugh as his hands dwarfed hers. "It's a cold castle." Hermione didn't have to look to know he was peppering kisses across her knuckles. Her stomach twisted.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Something brushed the top of her hair, and she thought it might have been James' lips. "Will you talk to us?"

"It's Valentine's Day, and no one likes me." She whispered. "Normally, it doesn't bother me, but now with that stupid bet…" Warmth spread across her hands, and Sirius pressed his lips to her pulse while running his thumb over the opposite wrist.

It calmed her down to where she could take a breath.

"The two of you don't like me either, you know." She ignored the offended choking sound that came from either of her sides. "You like the chase. I guess that's why I never let you catch up. I liked the attention, and I...I didn't want it to stop once you realized that like I did."

James curled his finger under her chin and lifted her head. "You should have let us catch up then because we're both fucking mental about you. I promise you, this has never been about the chase."

It must have shown on her face that she didn't believe them.

Sirius cleared his throat and spoke. "You have seven smiles. It's the most endearing thing I've ever seen. The way you smile when you learn something, when you help one of the first years. Sometimes when you look at us, you give us a different smile than you do everyone else, and it feels like a bloody prize."

"You have different laughs, and if anyone paid attention, they would know that you actually have a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Whenever you're truly happy, your cheeks dimple, and if it's not the cutest thing I've ever seen, I don't know what is."

Sirius knelt down in front of her, still gripping her hands in his. "You've got a thing for sugar quills, which I think might turn into an effort to kill me if you ever notice the effect it has on me. You only like the white ones because they're untainted by artificial dyes. You like custom order quills, but you never buy them."

"So, we do." James whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "You like a specific tip and grip."

"Let's explore that some time." Sirius grinned wickedly.

She burst into laughter. "The right quill is just as vital as having quality parchment for note taking, and—"

"We know." Sirius smiled. "We know everything about you, and I'll tell you that it's not just because we like the chase."

"Which we do enjoy it, but only because it's a bloody good time watching you blush and try to ignore us," James interjected. "But Hermione, even if you choose us, this, that doesn't mean the chase is over."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, if anything we'll be worse."

"We just want to make you happy."

"And we never meant to upset you."

"I admit that I let my jealousy get the better of me." James nuzzled his nose into her hair. "We shouldn't have confronted Diggory in public."

Hermione wiped her eyes. "I forgive you."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "You might have to make it up to me though."

James' grin was dazzling. "Oh, that will be no problem at all, will it, Padfoot?"

Their first date was to the Three Broomsticks, where there were whispers, but for a completely different reason this time. James wiped butterbeer from her upper lip, grinning when her cheeks heated.

She leaned into his side as Sirius bickered that he wanted to sit beside her because James always sat beside her.

"You're just slow." James drawled.

Laughing still, Hermione pulled them both from the booth and followed them around the village.

"We've been meaning to ask you something." Sirius traced the inside of her wrist, his thumb running across her pulse, and she wondered if he could feel it quicken. "Who is the better snogger, James or me?"

A strangled sound welled up, and Hermione shook her head. "I can't choose. You can't ask me to either."

They shared a secret smile. "You can't choose because you're not sure?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I would need to be reminded. For research, of course."

Sirius smirked. "For research."

"It might take a long time to come to a conclusion," Hermione said breathlessly. "There are so many variables."

James pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth as he walked them backwards. "Oh, I like the sound of that."

Sirius slanted his lips over hers in the middle of Hogsmeade where anyone could see and kissed her until she could barely breathe. "Need more time to decide?"

Hermione nodded. "Maybe we could go somewhere else? I don't fancy snogging where anyone can see."

It was a trick on her part.

She liked their competitive streak, and it only made snogging sessions that much better.

After all, it really would be impossible to choose.

I think it goes without saying, but I'd love to hear what you thought of this little thing!