Fragments of Fate.
oOo
In his best moments, Wormtail reminded her of Neville Longbottom at his worst.
oOo
"I said," he sneered, "did you find who you were looking for?"
"..."
"Beauxbatons witch, are you deaf, or just as idiotic as you look?"
"My name is Hermione."
"And, yes, I did see them."
"Your seeing them is a given when such an instrument is used correctly. I asked if you found them."
"It is," she snapped irritably, turning back to the chapter they were told to read, "the same thing."
"If it was the same thing... Then you wouldn't be sitting here telling me it was."
oOo
Violet looked at her blankly when she came into the Dorm Room; completely exhausted both physically and mentally. She ran her fingers through her sleek, dark hair in a practised, habitual move before sliding over to perch on the edge of Hermione's bed. Close up it became apparent that her hair was dyed - when the light caught it a certain way it shimmered a deep purple.
"I'd like to do your hair, Hermione," she said softly, smoothing down a tiny crease on the duvet.
"I'm fine, honestly. We have two rolls of parchment to write on on protective charms and -"
"It will not take long and it's been bothering me since we were introduced," she replied, a small crease showed between her heavy lidded eyes as she furrowed her brow and looked Hermione up and down.
She wasn't sure whether she should feel insulted or not, but at least Violet - unlike a certain blond Slytherin - possessed some tact. It seemed she wouldn't take no for an answer anyway because she slid up to kneel behind her on the bed and began running a charmed comb through her hair without waiting for an answer. Eve appeared shortly afterwards, shot a vague smile in her direction and began to sheaf through her 'Witch Weekly' pile to find a charm for something or other.
It became impossible to concentrate on the essay before her with Violet tapping her long, perfectly filed nails against her comb and pulling away at her hair. Eve had appeared by her side as well shaking her cute, mousy bob and brandishing pages on "Taming the Untameable", and "Tips for Those with Banshee Hair".
This was one of those times when Hermione felt like screaming and running out to the Quidditch pitch to dive into some mud and throw a ball about (despite the fact that she couldn't throw or catch a ball to save her life, never mind on a broomstick). At least the inevitable, "Who do you fancy?", question hadn't been thrown at her yet. Eve started to curl her eyelashes, much to her distress, and nearly jabbed her in the eye when Hermione moved back.
Eyebrow plucking spell - it now looked like she was permanent state of shock. Foundation (to cover those "pesky" freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose), mascara, blusher, lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, eyebrow pencil, concealer (the freckles wouldn't go down without a fight, much like her hair which had proceeded to snap two of Violet's combs), lip pencil, bronzer, highlighter...
She had the audacity to ask what the occasion was - Violet replied with a sort of say-that-again-and-I'll-move-on-to-body-waxing look before replying that this was just day to day make-up.
Needless to say Hermione escaped to the Boys' section of the Dorms the first chance she got. Violet and Eve may have been quieter than Lavender and the others, but they were twice as forceful. Lucy had not appeared throughout her make-over (torture session) and she had been told that she was out seeing some Hufflepuff who "wasn't good enough for her".
She banged on the door that she hoped belonged to Sirius, Remus and James after creeping up the Boys' stairs.
"Well...," a low whistle, "I knew you couldn't resist my charm, but really Hermione, you should wait until lights' out."
"I'm not here for you."
That was half true; the longing to see Harry, and even Ron, was overwhelming. Sirius grinned at her before reaching out and grasping her wrist to tug her inside. She hadn't remembered the Sirius of her time being so desperate for contact. This one seemed to use every opportunity to touch her - be it a light brush of arms, a hand on her shoulder or back or his arm around her neck. It was strangely -
"Moony, Hermione's here to see you."
The way that he said see implied anything but that.
"Stuff it, Padfoot. What's the matter? Are you stuck on the essay?"
Her pride stung a little at that remark, but she curbed the urge to correct him sharply. He was, after all, just trying to be friendly.
"No, I just needed to get out of my room. They're being..."
She trailed off at that to start pulling the curby grips from her hair which then vainly tried to reform into its original shape. Violet had attempted silky ringlets. Her hair had sort of curled more than it normally did, but it now stuck out at 90 degree angles so that it looked half-way between a poodle, and corkscrews growing out of her head. Attractive. The skin around her eyebrows felt strangely tight and the rest of her face felt heavy.
It was official - she hated make-overs. Remus gave her a sort of half smile and gestured for her to come and sit in the space beside him - amidst a sea of parchment. She scrolled down her own sheets and began scratching away with her quill. Sirius gave a quiet snort and muttered under his breath about - "urgh, study freaks". She knew he was intelligent, but apparently he was just one of those infuriating people that didn't need to work hard to do well.
Hermione would be lying if she said she had expected him to be the studying type.
"Your face looks a lot better today," she said quietly as she paused to dip her quill in the ink well.
The thick scabs had disappeared leaving the slightly shiny pink skin of almost healed scar tissue in their wake. He made a soft - mhmm - noise under his breath and shook his head a little until his sandy hair fell in front of his eyes. If she had been more... Knowledgeable in that particular area of life she might have noticed the red tinge that appeared on his slightly tanned cheeks.
Sirius saw. He shook his disheveled black hair back to its proper place in the manner that a soaked dog shook to remove unwanted moisture from its fur. The door opened a moment later to allow a invisibility cloak clad James and Wormtail to slip inside. They pulled the silvery, shimmering material over their heads and dumped the food that filled their arms onto the nearest bed.
Hermione gave a soft sniff and pressed her lips into a thin disapproving line.
"So that's your 'high level charm'. An invisibility cloak."
"Well," James began, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and exchanging gleeful looks with Sirius over the top of her head, "Yeah, I guess."
He threw her an apple and a small, sweet cake as though to pacify her - the air around her was practically shimmering with heat - and began to spread their haul out on the bed. Against her will a smile began to tug at the corner of her lips as they bickered over the sweets and threw insults the petulant five year olds not getting their own way.
It was pleasant if she forgot, or ignored - really, the time when she belonged. And all that happened to them between now and then.
oOo
"Why, are you sitting on me?"
"I'm not."
"Oh yes, well... What would you call this then?"
"I'm crouching over you so that I can see your answers, love."
"Go crouch elsewhere before I hex you."
"Nearly done."
Bang.
"Now that wasn't fair at all. Hexing poor Pete and making his hair... Fall out."
"I'll be making something else fall off if you don't move."
"I love it when you talk dirty."
"What!!"
"Finished, much appreciated. Doll."
oOo
This wasn't the first time she had wished she could just move into the Boys' Dorm and stay there forever. Sprawled out in front of the - against the rules, conjured - fire she felt relaxed for the first time since she had arrived. Homework finished, boys half-asleep, full stomach, warm, lying on a mountain of pillows. It felt good. She rubbed her face against the soft navy of the pillow her head was propped up on and sighed.
It smelled good - like the cinnamon buns her Mum would bake on the coldest days of winter. The ones Hermione had burnt every time she attempted to bake; the culinary arts just weren't her forte.
"What was it like?"
The question brought her out of her reverie and she looked up - a mess of tousled curls and semi-smudged eyeliner - to the speaker, James. As far as she was aware they had been discussing the upcoming match of Slytherin versus Gryffindor.
"What was what like?" She answered, burrowing her face into the heavenly smelling pillow and watching him out of one brown eye.
"Beaux."
Her mind fumbled quickly for an answer, and she really hoped the jolt of panic she felt didn't show on her features.
"Prettier than here, I guess. Ice sculptures instead of suits of armour. Hideously revealing blue, and grey silk uniforms..."
She didn't know any more than that and they were staring. Scraping her brain for any information Fleur may have spewed the few times she spoke to the stunning, blond girl. Coming up empty-handed she chose to lie. Not lie, she told herself, make educated guesses.
"The customs of the school are a bit different - like the normal French education system. Longer lunches, Wednesday off, half day on Saturday... Always stand up when a teacher enters the room. It's not that different," she said, trailing off.
Sirius was staring at her, again. She looked at him pointedly.
"Sorry," he said, giving her a blinding, dazzling grin,"You lost me after revealing silk uniforms..."
She laughed then, actually laughed, and threw one of the red pillows in his almost too pretty face. Without the hardness of his jaw and the square set of his shoulders he would be too pretty, she decided. But right now, he wasn't half bad. Better when he grew up a bit and no softness was left in his features. She shook her hair out and ducked one of the pillows thrown at her, still laughing.
One hit her square in the face.
"You're dead, Black."
She hit the next pillow thrown with a multiply spell, but the pile of pillows conjured hit the other three boys more than anything else.
"Really," he sauntered forward, nimbly dodging another feather missile launched at his head,"because I feel very much alive."
He was too close suddenly. Overbearing, towering over her like some malevolent being. She was relatively small and felt quite threatened by his proximity and the way he hung his much larger - though not particularly broad - frame over her. Blocking escape. This was not the same as all those times he had forcibly thrown his arm around her neck in a bone crushing hug. His posture was domineering and she reacted badly to that because it reminded her far too much of the way the Death Eaters held themselves.
Arrogant, over-bearing.
Hermione made to take a step back; away from him and the charged atmosphere. All the laughter had slid from her face. Her hand instinctively to her wand and she had to restrain herself from hexing him. He seemed to notice that she had been startled and backed away, holding up the pillow he had been hiding behind his back in a placating gesture. There was a questioning look in his eyes that she just didn't want to deal with.
Muttering an excuse, she slipped from the room as quickly as she could. Still unthinkingly clutching the small navy pillow in one of her tight fists.
They stared after her for a moment, but when no bushy head appeared from behind the ajar door they shared a what's-her-problem? look. Remus went back to reading the large tome that had been knocked out of his hands during their 'war'. Peter sat beside him stuffing his face and vainly tried to complete the Transfiguration essay that should have been handed in several days previously. Sirius and James remained standing in the middle of the room - faces flushed and hands still clutching pillows as small feathers drifted to the floor around them.
"That was your pillow she took, wasn't it Pad?" James waggled his eyes brows suggestively.
"Shut it Prongs."
"Ohhh, you should have asked her to share," he pressed his lips into a pouty, kissy face and batted his eyelashes.
Peter laughed and Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius launched himself at James with a strangled yell.
oOo
She avoided him - them - after that. Two weeks passed easily. Going to breakfast early, leaving class as soon as the bell rang, spending breaks and most of lunches in the darkest corners of the library, only returning to the Common Room ridiculously late at night, or else remaining shut up in the Girls' Dorm. Hermione knew they were irritated by her sudden distant attitude and how she avoided them.
If they asked she would just say she was busy, which was true. She wouldn't give them a chance to ask.
Fumbling with one of the chains that kept the Forbidden books firmly in the Forbidden section, she let out a loud sigh. The soft scuffling of feet could be heard so she slid the book - Tomorrow, Today and the Day Before Yesterday- back into its place and groped in her pockets for the slip Dumbledore had given her, the one that granted access to any and all books in the library.
The virtual Holy Grail of any and all permission slips, in her opinion.
Ms Pince liked to check the slip every few hours - as though she expected it to suddenly disappear or change. Letting out a soft snort Hermione turned and came face to face, or rather face to chest, with someone who was definitely not the irritable librarian. Out of instinct she jumped back, and whipped out her wand only to have it yanked from her hand. A large, warm hand clamped across her mouth when she took a deep, lung filling breath.
"Jumpy, aren't you?" It could have been a teasing statement, but it sounded distinctly bitter.
She bit him. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do, but he removed his hand the moment he felt her teeth scraping off of his skin. He tastes, she noted, vaguely salty. All fear had evaporated the moment she realised who it was. The rich, spicy smell of his cologne coupled with the familiar voice took away the panic that edged into her mind.
"Only when people leap out at me from shadowed corners."
She ripped the book back from the shelf ignoring its shriek and the jarring sound the chain made because she pulled it so hard. Maybe she shouldn't have answered at all, maybe she should have just brushed past and disappeared amongst the towering shelves. It was too late for that. She turned back to the dog-eared pages and pointedly ignored the way he pawed through her book-bag looking from cover to cover.
There had been nothing to reward her desperate searching - even in the previously off-limits Forbidden Section, as one might expect. She had looked long and hard after she came into possession of it, but she had naively thought that perhaps the fact that her entire life - the one she had with her family and friends - depended on her finding answers might spur her on. Coming up empty handed wasn't something she was used to.
It just dangled there; battered and more broken than it had been when she first came into possession of it. The locket. The source of her problems. It almost made her sick when she thought about what she had done to get it, what boundaries she had crossed. And, him, standing there watching her with smouldering eyes. The anger rose unbidden because she could make this his fault if she put her mind to it.
If she acted petty and petulant and all manner of things she wasn't.
"Never took you for a witch who would find Divination interesting," his said, lip curling in a sneer worthy of her former Potions Professor.
Wait. Her former Potions Professor. He knew what it was, and he made it out to seem that he knew more than she did. Books were not giving her answers - or, rather, she could not find the books that would give her the answers she needed on her own. Snape wouldn't give her his help for free, but he was a Slytherin after all. She could deal with their slippery, self-serving ways if she got the information she needed.
She would be a bit Slytherin in that way. Self-serving, but the Gryffindor part of her would make sure she was honest and keep her side of the bargin. She just hoped that Snape would have the same warped sense of honour that the last Slytherin she made a deal with had.
"Never judge a book by its cover," she said quietly, aware that a significant pause had occurred in their so called conversation.
"Sounds like something Moony would say. Not that you would know."
The last comment was meant to rile her. To simultaneously make her feel like an unwelcome outsider while also showing just what he thought of her absences. It stung more than it should - she was supposed to be somewhat used to feeling like an outsider.
"You're right, I wouldn't."
His jaw tensed, she noticed that it was smooth. Free of those irritating patches of stubble. Some irrational, female, part of her wondered if he had done that for her. Sirius Black, womaniser extraordinaire. Hermione almost laughed at her own foolishness. He grabbed her wrist, engulfing it with his ridiculously large hand, and tearing her clutching fingers away from the ochre tinted pages.
There was something of a desperation in his eyes. Something of anger. She wanted to hex him until he was just a blubbering mass for daring to use his physical advantage against her, for daring to be angry and hurt at her avoidance, for daring to notice her in the first place. Making an impression was something she had wanted to avoid. She had failed miserably.
"Why are you running?!" his voice was angry and deep in the silence.
She refused to look at him, instead staring at the stone floor.
"I wasn't aware that my feet were moving."
"Bloody know-it-all! Stop avoiding us, stop avoiding everything."
"I'm not."
Hermione finally looked up at him, the picture of rage. His teeth were bared, the muscles in his jaw tight, eyes blazing anger. She remained cool, quiet and collected. Avoiding was one thing, but if she pushed him away it would make things so much simpler. No strings. She lifted her hand up to the one that rested on her wrist and slid her cool fingers across his heated knuckles.
At the first sign of limpness she prized his fingers off and swept past.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, storming after her.
"One minute your nice, friendly, acting like you want nothing more than to move into the Boys' Dorm and always hang out with us. The next.."
He grabbed the sleeve of her robes as she made to disappear around the corner. She considered breaking into a sprint, but dismissed it. Pince would pounce on her if she dared hex him, and he was a good duelist to boot. The fact that he was bigger, stronger and had much longer legs meant that she couldn't outrun him. The heavy book-bag made things more difficult as well.
"The next you're acting like you've barely ever spoken to us, like you don't know us. Like you don't want to know us."
"I'm homesick," she said, looking at him directly and holding his gaze.
A bellow the belt move would seal this.
"I miss my friends. You know, the people I actually like..."
His jaw clenched even more and his hand curled into a fist at his side. For a moment she thought he might actually hit her. This was what she wanted, she told herself, as a pang of sadness hit her at his hurt expression - no strings. No attachments. No anything. His hand tightened to the point that she thought he might actually rip the material, but the moment passed and he released her.
Without a word he moved by, knocking her with his shoulder as he passed. She scowled at his retreating back and felt oddly irritated for someone who had just accomplished something she wanted to do.
"It's almost nice to see a girl that can pass up Black," a silky voice said, from somewhere behind her.
Steeling herself, Hermione turned around slowly instead of whipping around like she wanted to. There he was, all lank, greasy hair and long, gangly limbs, she forced a smile onto her face. He seemed vaguely repulsed by her attempts at being friendly. So, she wasn't the most socially adept person on the planet, but he could hardly judge her.
"Severus, I didn't see you there."
"And why would you? I'm surprised you can see at all with that bush you call hair in the way."
Hexing him seemed like a pleasant option right now. She forced the smile on her face to stay firmly in place.
"I was just going to look for you," he raised a dark eyebrow,"I need your help."
The words left a sour taste in her mouth. In the corner of her eye she noticed Sirius pause at the door of the library. His grey eyes were narrowed and he watched them unflinchingly. To say his gaze was murderous would be the understatement of the century. If eyes could Avada Kedavra... Snape seemed to be considering her words. She supposed she was lucky he didn't dismiss her outright.
"What do you want?"
It was her turn to look incredulous. He was almost being sincere.
"Information."
His dark eyes flickered to a place that would be highly inappropriate had she not known what he was looking at.
"I can guess what on."
Something like a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth she let it widen into a fully blown one. If what she had said hadn't already made him hate her, then this certainly would. As if on cue, his frown deepened.
"I'm sure you can," she replied smoothly.
"Then, I'm sure you're aware that I'll expect something in return."
"You're a Slytherin for a reason."
He smirked at that. She just hoped he would accept and didn't ask her to do anything too ridiculous as payment. You could never be sure what you were dealing with when you put yourself in debt of Severus Snape. Something like stealing a rare potion ingredient was what she expected. Perhaps giving him information on the Mauraders in return, or hexing them in their sleep.
She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder - a gesture, she admitted to herself, that was purely for Sirius's sake. He was still watching, and his wand looked as though it might snap in half if he placed any more pressure on it.
"Anything that's within my limits."
She didn't think he would respect any limits.
"I'll think about it," he answered finally as she let her hand slip from his shoulder.
"Thank you."
When she looked back Sirius had gone. The tiny amount of vindictive pleasure she had felt disappeared with him.
oOo
He kicked his bed as he passed, but that only intensified his feelings of anger when his toe gave a vicious throb. James polished his glasses on one of the shirts he had stolen from Lily and looked up at him expectantly. The others were watching. He still hadn't told them what had gotten him so riled up.
"She said she was homesick and that she had no bloody idea that she was avoiding us -"
"I'm sure the move this far on is stressful -"
"Then she said she missed the people she actually liked. As if she doesn't like us! We shouldn't have bothered being so bloody nice -"
"I'm sure there's a bit of culture shock involved, I mean -"
"And to cap it, you haven't even heard the best bit, she was getting all touch-y feel-y with Snivellus when I was leaving. Touching his arm, and smiling at him. Makes me sick to my fucking stomach."
James sat bolt upright in the bed he had previously been lounging all over. His expression was incredulous. Remus just kept babbling on about how things must have been difficult for her, and how hard it would be to adjust. The faint flush on his cheeks as he spoke of Hermione sent another jolt of what must have been jealousy right into the pit of his stomach. He looked at James who's hazel eyes were screwed up in a familiar, let's-plan-mayhem expression.
"What girl could stomach looking at Sniv, never mind touching him?!" James half-yelled, an expression of disgust on his features. They all knew he was thinking of Lily as he said that.
"Yeah, obviously Hermione can."
"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it, Padfoot, just let her sort out her thoughts and she'll go back to normal," muttered Remus, ever the voice of reason.
"Are you angry, Moony? Angry that I insulted your precious little girlfriend?!"
Remus's face flushed a deep crimson, forcing more bitter resentment into Sirius's system. He didn't even try to deny it, only turned back to his book. James gave a deep yawn, blissfully unaware of the irritated looks flashing between the two.
"Let's hit the sack. We'll just hex Snivellus more than normal tomorrow and see if what Moony says is true."
"I'll do more than bloody hex him," Sirius muttered darkly, as the lights turned off.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Sorry about the wait, I've been really busy lately. What with exams and whatnot. I feel that I should add more to the chapter, but I'm tired and can't think of anything other than heading into the Snape-Deal phase which should take more than a few hundred words. So, more jealousy to come, more about this weird locket thing and probably that Slytherin versus Gryffindor match I mentioned earlier. (Great place to snuggle up, methinks. What with everyone looking up to the sky...)
Thanks for reading.
Silver xxx.