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Deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, on the lowest level, the ninth floor below the main Atrium, down the darkened oak corridor and firmly ensconced behind some of the most impenetrable magic of the Wizarding World was the Department of Mysteries.  Hermione was standing next to George Weasley, one of the newest employees in the DOM in his new office, her arms crossed, hip pressed lazily against the think hewn wooden table that was his ‘testing zone’ as he affectionately labeled it, where they were both looking at a large wooden box set squarely in the middle of the table.  “We’re ready to do a trial test.”

Hermione nodded, her expression solemn, she had been in on the very beginning of the conceptual idea for the experiment, and as such she had been pulled in as one of the chief advisors on overseeing the entire project.   Project “M” was a radical idea bounced around between George, Hermione, Harry and Gilbert Wimple, the new head of the DOM over a year ago.  It had started in a frustrated conversation between Harry, Hermione and George about his inability to pursue and accurately prosecute some wizards because they had simply ‘removed’ their memories; thereby making it nearly impossible to put them in prison for a crime they simply, staunchly and truthfully had no memory of committing.  It was rather ingenious, because without the proof or a witness or the evidence of the bottled memory strain they were unable to convict. 

Harry had offhandedly mentioned something about wishing he could just go into a Pensive and not only see the memory within, but be able to also interact within it.  Instead of simply walking amid a three dimensional recollection, what if you were able to interact within it?  What if you were able to speak to the participants?  Converse; learn more about the events surrounding the crime or incident that was taking place?  George smiled and said, “What if you could?”  He announced he’d been working on something similar, but not quite as complex for his expanded ‘Dream Line’ romance section for the store.  Interactive dreams.  Why not make the memories interactive too?

They’d all sat and looked at each other for long, silent moments.  George and Harry had looked at Hermione in question.  She was the one they came to, to solidify or shoot down ideas.  Hermione had looked at the two men and shook her head in amazement.  She couldn’t see one reason not to.   “What if we could?” had been her softly spoken but very enunciated reply.

They took the idea to Gilbert or Gil, as he was referred to for vetting.  Gil was a softly spoken but commanding man.  He entered a room and it was as though all eyes were drawn to him against their will.  He was an average looking man, average height, average brown hair, average build – but when he spoke, you listened and when he wanted something, he got it.  Some people called it being charismatic, Hermione said he had some kind of enchantment about him, but no matter – he was powerful and respected and a brilliant strategist.  And when he green-lighted a project it had long-standing merit to it.

George, Hermione and Harry had presented the idea to Gil and George had found himself the newest member of the Ministry of Magic.  The joke shop had been placed in the care of Ron and Angelina and George had been on this project since.

Hours and days and months of trials and failures and sometimes dangerous tests in memories that no one wanted to go through had finally lead them to today.   Project “M” was officially active.   The final testing phases had begun and once these were completed “M” was set to go ‘live’ within the month.

Hermione had had her misgivings about sending in Aurors or Unspeakables into dangerous memories, there were reasons after all that they had been removed from people’s minds, she’d argued.  But now George had what he’d called a ‘foolproof’ way to test the project.  He’d been practically bouncing off the walls to get Hermione down to his office to show her.

“Alright, Georgie,” Hermione announced, “You’ve got your desired captive audience.  Show me how we’re going to do this safely and without altering the original memory.”  

George waved his hand dismissively.  “Everything reverts the moment you leave as if you were never there.  Because, well… you were never there.”  

“How long can you stay in safely?”  

George shrugged in reply. “Technically, you can stay as long as you like.  The memory will eventually lose some of its strength near the end, but if you’re engaging the participants, there’s no reason to think you would be pulled out before you wanted to leave. For dangerous situations there is a fail-safe word that acts like a verbal Portkey and pulls you out immediately.  Everything is recorded on the Port-O-Ear,” George pointed to a tiny flesh-colored earbud that was placed in the ‘M.O.’ or Memory Operator to record what was being said for analysis, and to add to testimony or evidence if necessary.

Hermione let out a long breath and flashed George a genuinely awed smile.  “You’re brilliant, Weasley.  I have to hand it to you.”

 “You’re just now figuring this out?”  George grinned toothily at her and chucked her chin lightly.

Hermione laughed and nodded her chin at the box. “What’s in the box?”

George’s smile faded a bit, but he turned the front to face her and to her surprise she read the name etched in simple script across the front and just above the latch:  Remus J Lupin.  Her own eyes widened as they read the name, an inscrutable expression flitting across her face before she reached out and pulled the chest to her.  One long finger ran along the etched name as she stared at it and then up at George.  “Explain,” was all she said.  George had learned over the years since Hermione had been in the Ministry and had been in charge of her own department, that when she was in ‘work-mode’ you didn’t question or tease, you obeyed.  Right now was one of those moments.  Her tone left no room for doubt.

“We’re not sure how it began.  Not really anyway, but it looks like Remus had been taking out moments, fragments, bits and pieces of his life and storing those memories for years.  Since his school years, up until just before his death.”  George’s voice dropped several octaves and Hermione’s eyes shot to his.  After nearly ten years he was still deeply affected by the loss of his brother and any mention of the day of his death always left him and everyone around him a bit winded and teary-eyed.  This was no exception. Hermione reached out a hand to squeeze his arm consolingly and he nodded, coughed and scratched his eye but continued.  “His life is laid out before us.  It looks like he may have had some memory loss when he transformed, so he took out moments to remember, little things, simple times, happy times, across the board, really.”  

George flipped up the latch and pulled the box open and there before Hermione were hundreds of memories in tiny vials, swirling a beautiful iridescent golden color, neatly labeled via month, year and event.  They were all written in the same familiar cursive and Hermione’s heart lurched in her chest.  Her hand fluttered over her mouth and she closed her eyes to compose herself.  Finally she was able to look closely at the chest, picking up a few stopped vials and reading them.  They said things like, Solace or Peaceful or Humorous or Spring Day.  Along with darker themed labels that she would rather not think to view.

All these memories, pieces of Remus’ life were here exposed, to be seen and interacted with by any one of the team members under George’s care. Hermione frowned, she felt a sudden, fierce need to protect these memories, precious facets of Remus’ life and keep them private.  “Aw now, Hermione.  I know what you’re thinking,” George interrupted her thoughts.  “I’ve already spoken to Teddy about this and he’s okay with us looking at them.  He only asked that if we’re able to do this successfully that he can one day visit with his father and have a conversation with him.”  

Hermione’s eyes slid closed briefly as she nodded, swallowing hard. When she spoke her voice was shaky, but she agreed, “Of course.  How did you even know about these?”  She was running fingers over the tiny jars, Majesty had stood out and she picked up the vial, its memories within twinkling and winking at her.  Her eyes flicked up to George once more.

“Teddy said he had a bunch of things of his father’s that he didn’t know what to do with.  He hadn’t looked at many of the memories, just a few…” George’s voice trailed off, “too much to deal with, you know?”  

Hermione set the vial down carefully and took George’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, I know.   Who do you have planned to do this?”  She was back inspecting the labels, trying to be discreet as she let George scrub a palm across his eyes.

“I was thinking I would. Just because I know, knew him.  And I didn’t want to be, er, disrespectful in having someone else see his life.”  Hermione’s eyes were locked on George’s, her brows furrowed in contemplation.  Letting George go should be the natural culmination.  He’d put a year of his life into this work, but Hermione also worried that it might be a bit too close to home for him as well. 

“I would be honored, George if you would let me do it?  At least with Remus’ memories, at least at first?”  The implication hung heavy in the air between them.  George wasn’t ready for something like this. It didn’t matter if it was Remus. It was everything that swirled around him.  Around Remus’ death.  Around Fred’s death. Remus, Tonks, Lavender even Bellatrix, Snape, they were all tied together, forever linked to the one person that he loved more dearly than anyone in the world.  And it mattered to him.  George knew what she was doing and he forced a far more cheerful smile than either felt and agreed.

Hermione and George decided that she should steer clear of anything that sounded remotely dark and finally decided upon the bottle that had caught her attention at first: Majesty.   

The process was complicated and the potion added to the memory strain had to be brewed and ready to pour into the Pensive at precisely one minute before the memory was added.  Hermione added the Port-O-Ear to record the event and with a quick, nervous smile at George poured a drop of the memory in and dunked her head into the Pensive.

--- * ---

The process was much the same; the swirling, falling sensation seemed heightened as she plunged into Remus Lupin’s memory.  The year marker had been 1986, Remus would have been twenty-six, just one year younger than she was presently.  It hadn’t really occurred to her until she landed in an unceremonious lump upon a sandy beach that she was going to be meeting a young Remus.  Logically she knew it, but now as Hermione pulled herself upright, brushing off sand from her bottom and jeans as she gazed around at her surroundings, did the reality hit her.  

Her breath caught when her gaze fell upon a staggeringly tall tower set right at the base of a massive cliff, the foamy waves of the sea crashing against its stone foundation.  Hermione forgot for just a moment that she was in a memory when the waves licked at her feet and soaked her shoes and the cuffs of her jeans in icy water.  She squealed, jumped back and turned to face the ocean and what had to be the most glorious sunset she’d ever seen.   

Every nerve ending tingled as she feasted upon the grey clouds, backlit from within the setting sun’s pink, gold and rose colors.  It was magnificent. She wrapped her arms around her and turned to take in the beauty of the moment, a broad smile lighting her face as she nodded in wordless agreement.  This was truly majesty at its finest display.

She’d not even heard him approach, not even been contemplating how or where to find him, but she turned her head and there he was, a solitary figure along the beach, a well-worn, but think wool jumper pulled tightly closed and approaching her as if he’d just materialized out of the fog rolling in from the ocean.   Hermione swallowed in a nervous gulp of air, pulled her own jumper a bit more snugly around her middle and smiled at the man as he stopped before her.   Her voice was quiet amid the crashing of the waves, but it was warm and welcoming, as was her smile.  “Hello,” she said nearly forgetting that this Remus had no idea who she was, wouldn’t meet her for years and even then never knowing her as an adult, but the urge to fling her arms around him and hug that kind man she’d known so long ago remained strong inside.  Instead she turned her eyes back out to sea and drank in the giant sun as it began its decent into the ocean.  “One of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.”  Hermione slid a sideways glance at the taller man standing beside her, “Wouldn’t you agree?  Simply breathtaking.”

So there she stood, sharing a sunset with an old friend and yet, she was about to meet Remus Lupin it would seem, for the very first time on equal ground and quite honestly, Hermione Granger couldn't have been happier about it.