Fragments of Fate.
oOo
Severus Snape could always make her feel inadequate with a mere glance - past, or present.
oOo
"Do you want this or not, Granger?" he sneered, holding the locket into the faint light for a moment before sliding it back into his pocket.
She bit her lip as she considered his expression - it was still very likely that he would have found some way to weasel out of their agreement. The sound of faint footfalls made her jump slightly and cram herself closer to the exposed stone wall, even though she knew that passers-by could not see them concealed behind the tapestry. It was long after nightfall and if they were found it would be by a member of staff, or perhaps a fellow prefect.
The rumours that would spring up if Malfoy and herself, of all people, were found in a dark corner way after nightfall would be unbearable. Never mind Harry and Ron's reactions. She didn't want to have to think up a cover story for this.
"Let me see it," she said, holding out her hand expectantly
He eyed her critically, suspicously, for a moment before lowering the tiny locket into her open palm. Malfoy still kept a tight grasp on the chain as she flicked open the catch as stared into the milky depths of the inner sections of the locket. Hermione fought hard to conceal her excitement, her happiness.
"No one knows...?" she trailed off with a questioning tone.
"No one, and I expect that you did the same for me. The last thing I need is Potty and the Weasel pocking their noses into my business," Malfoy snapped, impatiently pulling the locket from her grasping fingers.
She kept her eyes on him - not relinquishing her grip on her wand which she had kept firmly in her hand since they met. Hermione retracted her hand from her pocket and held out a roll of parchment and a tiny, red leather bound book with runes inscribed in peeling gold leaf across the front.
"A perfect translation of the second and fifth chapters, as you asked for."
The runes formed chains used for repairing and connecting - she had no idea what he was trying to fix and didn't want to know. He, in turn, had not asked why she wanted the Fate locket. From the brief conversations they had had she gathered that he had retrieved it from one of his families' oldest vaults, which had lain untouched for almost two centuries - the contents near forgotten. No one would notice its absence.
Some emotion she couldn't quite identify flickered across his face as he took the parchment, book and handed her the locket. It still felt warm from being held in his hand for so long. Malfoy swept past her then, and slid out into the, now deserted corridor without saying anything further.
"You know it's customary to shake hands after a deal has been completed," she said to his retreating back and swishing, green trimmed robed.
He let out a short, bitter sounding laugh and didn't even look back.
---
"Have you decided yet?" Hermione asked, watching the back of Sirius's head closely.
Snape exhaled slowly and looked at her with a slightly bored expression. Holding his gaze proved to be difficult, she watched Sirius's back stiffen and straighten. He had many benefits as an animagus - she had overheard him talking to Harry about it once - and a heightened sense of hearing was one of them. She didn't want him to hear this - her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Well, have you?" her prompt came out sharper and more irritable than she meant.
He would probably drag it out longer because of that. Snape looked away from her again, slouching further into his seat, his legs stuck out beneath the desk. His long, pale fingers with slightly too long nails drummed against the wooden desk. She longed to hex him into speaking, but he couldn't be rushed. She knew that. Part of her felt like pointing out the fact that stubbornness was a Gryffindor trait, but then she might never get an answer.
"His teeth are too sharp, don't you think? A little inhuman, almost wolfish."
She had no idea what he was talking about until she followed the line of his gaze. Remus was smiling, the aforementioned teeth white even in the gloomy classroom. Snape was watching her then, scrutinising her expression. What she felt was a blank look was probably an open book to him. A slight twinge of anger hit her then; at what he was trying to do. Forcing a smile on her face - for the third time since the class started ten minutes earlier - she pulled the chain of her locket meaningfully.
His eyelids lowered slightly as he flashed her a look of open contempt mingled with a sort of pride. Internally, he was probably mocking her "ignorance".
"I have decided,"he said, finally.
Ever talkative. That hadn't changed.
"And..."
"Keep your voice down," he chastised, with a hint of a smirk, "you don't want Black to hear, do you?"
She felt like tearing all of her hair out and strangling him with it. The teacher had finally made an appearance and, as the level of noise dropped in the class, he lent across slightly. Lips barely moving as he spoke. The words were quick which betrayed his excitement. He would never have turned her down.
"I'll help you, and you will help me."
His hand slid into his pocket and he pulled out a tiny vial of clear, blue liquid with a piece of parchment wrapped around it.. Hermione watched as he extended his hand and held the tiny bottle beneath the table, so that she alone could see. With some reluctance she extended her hand and allowed him to place it in the centre of her palm. It was cool and smooth. She slid it into one of the inner pockets of her bag without a word.
"Tomorrow morning, early, you will go and place a drop of that on each of the Maurader's. As long as it touches skin it does not matter where."
"It's not poison..." she trailed off, reaching for a quill to copy down the notes.
"Unfortunately not. Do not tempt me."
"So what does it -"
"You'll find out tomorrow," he hissed, cutting her off.
He refused to speak after that. And it was official; this search for Sirius Black had thoroughly destroyed her morals. She tried not to think about it as a wall of text appeared on the blackboard and the "cause" of all of her misfortunes sent her a look of pure loathing. Class was over quickly - she took her time packing up all of her things to make sure that she wouldn't have to speak to any of the Mauraders.
The thick leather strap of the messenger bag - one of the many supplies Dumbledore had "lent" to her - showed the typical signs of strain. She really hoped this one held up, unlike the many bags she had carried through the years. Hefting it onto her shoulders she maneuvered her way through the pushing masses towards the door. This would have been as good a time as any to start research with Snape, but he had actually wanted to go to this.
She supposed it was because his House was playing. Though she didn't feel obliged, she would attend too. Another hour searching listlessly for information she was sure that she now only imagined existed may have been enough to tear what was left of her sanity away. Or, at the very least a break would perhaps allow her to function better when she did return to the library.
A group of rowdy Hufflepuff boys jostled her into a seat somewhere in the middle of the third stand. The view was good and it was light and breezy. A few whisps of hair escaped the loose bun she had tied at the base of her neck. A half concealed snort of irritation from her right hand side caused her to turn her head a little. Behind her sat Sirius, Remus and a straggly haired Wormtail. Before she could turn back Sirius spoke.
"Fancy meeting you here," he bared his straight, white teeth in an almost predatory smile.
Remus looked as though he wasn't sure what to do. When she looked at him he looked away.
"Yes... Good to... See you, Henrietta," Wormtail muttered, wringing his hands and blushing fiercely.
"Hermione," she snapped, turning back to the pitch where the teams were walking on to a storm of shouting.
"Nobody came with you? No Snivellus."
"Why would it matter to you?"
"It doesn't," he sneered, flicking his hair back.
"Then stop talking to me."
"Why don't you."
"You're so immature," she hissed, turning back around to feign interest in the beginning of the match.
Hermione could hear him muttering quietly behind her. The words were unclear but the malevolent tone behind them made it difficult to relax. She sat rigid, hoping to catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of her eyes so that she could see if they decided to act against her. Sirius could be all charm and friendliness if he wanted to be, but also cruel and vindictive. Now that she had lead him to believe that she was friendly with Snape she doubted he would show her any kindness.
Feeling insecure, she stood and began to weave her way down the stands. There really was no point in staying there, cheers swelled up around her as Gryffindor scored, not when she couldn't stop the niggling feeling that he was going to hex her while her back was turned. Perhaps it was guilt at what she had agreed to do to him - to them. A quick glance confirmed that they were all still in their seats.
Unbidden, her feet began to take her in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. She stopped as soon as she realised this and stared at the small, wooden hut with mounting frustration. Hot angry tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before she could force them back. Little fool. He did not know her now. She stared at the roughly carved wooden logs that made up the exterior before turning on her heel and walking away
The bag strap dug into her shoulder with each step she took away from the castle. She had been in the Forbidden Forest very few times in her life, but felt little fear when venturing into the edges of it as she occasionally did to avoid Ron and Harry completely. Around ten metres down the path the Mauraders' Map no longer showed people on it and she could sit in relative peace for a time - at least until she lost her nerve and left.
It was usually a last resort.
The forest always seemed unchanging, eternally dark and foreboding, if she sat still and closed her eyes it would almost seem like she wasn't stranded in the wrong time and potentially destroying all she heard dear. A frown creased the skin beneath her brows as she thought of that. The shadows seemed to swallow her whole as she stepped beneath the cover of the trees and began to pick her way over the protruding tree roots and rocks.
Something on the ground made her pause and draw out her wand: a pawprint in the mud before her, just the right size for a large sized dog.
Hermione let out a soft sigh and glanced back just as a wave of cheering floated over from the stands. There was a tree stump just to her left that she didn't remember being there. There was really no point in going any further now - with Sirius knowing where she was the entire purpose of going further in search of some peace and quiet was void. Arranging her cloak to lessen the chance of wrinkles she eased her bag to the ground and sat with a sigh.
Perhaps he wouldn't appear.
"You shouldn't be out here. It's the Forbidden Forest, you know, and I would have thought you'd be smart enough to know it was dangerous just from the name."
She should have known better. Hermione couldn't see him, but his voice came from the shadows just in front of her. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Perhaps he was expecting her to be startled; a wry smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. He would have to do better than that to have her run screaming, or show fear. She had experienced war first hand - Sirius jumping out of the shadows when she expected him was no comparison.
"I wasn't going to go far," she said, tone impersonal and aloof.
A shifting and cracking of leaves before he moved into her line of version. His teeth were bared and the dim light made his eyes seem as sunken as they had been the night she met him. For the first time in years Hermione Granger felt more the a twinge of fear when she looked at Sirius Black despite her attempts not to show it.
"There are things out here that could hurt you." Strange; his expression. It was almost like he cared. Guilt twisted her heart in a vice-like grip at that thought.
"Like you...?
Why did he make her feel the need to goad him? She would taunt noone else like this.
"You know that's not what I meant, Hermione."
He rolled his tongue around her name in a way that sent a jolt to the pit of her stomach that she didn't want to investigate. Instead of being angry, as she had expected, he was calm - almost, there was a tenseness in his voice and stance - and quiet. Deadly quiet.
She moved to her feet; aware that staying any longer would invite a conversation that she didn't want to have. He was far too stubborn - like he had already decided that she would be part of his life whether she wanted to or not. That was the Pureblood part of him; domineering and arrogant. He moved far, far too fast and grabbed her arm to stop her leaving and his grip was bruising though she thought he didn't mean it to be.
Grabbing her bag strap with one hand she moved to jab him in the stomach with her wand and fix him with a threatening glare. That would show him that she wasn't one of the many subservient females he was so used to handling.
Her bag split open then; spilling textbooks and sheafs of paper everywhere, but it truly felt like her heart had stopped when the tiny blue vial and the note attached to it rolled to a stop at Sirius's feet. She froze on the spot, heart fluttering like a caged bird, as he noted where her stricken expression was aimed and picked it up. A cold coil of icy fear snaked through her veins as his lips mouthed the words on the parchment.
He repeated the name scrawled at the bottom several time - his long, dark hair and the dim light hiding everything but his mouth and chin. It struck her then that it was strange for Snape to openly show the connection between him and what he had told her to do. He was still young though; very, very young. It struck her that his practised ease in secrecy and covering his tracks probably came from some very unpleasant experiences.
She had seen the scars that littered his arms and hoped, feverishly, that this incident wasn't one of those unpleasant experiences.
"He forced you, didn't he?!"
His grip was now too painful for her to focus on anything else properly. He swatted away the hand holding her wand as though it was an insignificant fly.
"Let go. You're hurting me!"
Sirius's eyes widened slightly as though he hadn't realised that before she pressed her only free hand against his chest and pushed with all her might just as he let her go as though he had been burned. Hermione stumbled backwards until her back hit a tree trunk. He made no move to approach her further. She fingered the forearm that was sure to have a bruise from his strong grip and noted the way he followed the movement of her hand.
She frowned and gripped her wand a little tighter - lifting it until it was pointed directly at his face.
"You don't need to be frightened," he said, finally.
Dammit! He must have seen her traitorous hand shaking though she tried to stop the movement.
"I'm not."
The look on his face was dark and almost vicious - his jaw set in a rigid line and his eyes glittering unpleasantly. Her mind's eye drew up the old wanted poster and coldly pointed out the exact same look - promise - in his dark eyes. She crushed the urge to cry and looked away.
"I'll get him for this."
It was as though her spirit had separated from her body and she watched herself as she stood mute and pliant in his grip.
"I swear..."
The words hung in the air like a knife as he charged away from her with his powerful legs forcing him to speeds she would never be able ; perhaps unaware of her turmoil. Hermione had no idea why he had suddenly left her, when he normally clung as though he had sunk claws into her skin. Revenge perhaps. It always seemed to take centre stage for him. Perhaps he thought "saving" her by ridding her of her "tormentor" was the best thing he could do.
Hermione knew he had seen the wetness in her eyes that signalled tears forming, waiting to be spilled. She saw the uncertainty, worry, that spilled through the mask of anger and watched as his features hardened a second later. He couldn't deal with her like that. He sought to deal with the source of the supposed problem instead. She felt sick to her stomach.
Flicking her brown eyes back to the castle she frowned down at the books as she repaired her bag and stuffed them back inside. She could catch up. Her eyes never left the Castle. She was strong, she was smart, she was capable...
She could fix this.
---
On the Forest floor, blown by the wind into a bush, was a small sheet of plain white paper. It was unremarkable - save for the small, blue, still damp, blotch on it.
---
This is a bit short, but I'm tired and I want to update. Really tired. Urgh, enjoy what little of this ( and the smidgens of plot) there are here to enjoy.
