A/N: The note's at the end again, please remember to read and review - they're adored! Also, I've summarised the timings in this chapter at the end - so if you're confused about what's happening when, take a look at the end note! Thanks everyone who read/reviewed or added me on the last chapter, and an especial thanks go to:
Aly Martin, LotL101, Cribellate, pstibbons, Thread Magic, Amarthiel!
The landscape was bathed in the fading gold of a sunset – a spectacular vista, if not for the fierce wind, that battered Hermione as she ran.
How could she have been so spectacularly stupid? How could she have hoped that nothing would change – and now someone was dead because of her inaction, her refusal to act, to change things and her stupid, stubborn belief that she would return to her own time. Someone who was meant to have lived for at least another twenty years was dead because of her. She'd snatched that from Emmeline, and worse, Hermione thought wildly, sick to the stomach, she had condemned every person whose future was dependent on Emmeline's. Merlin – why, why, had she been so foolish?
She stared sickly at Enid's letter, wishing it was some kind of sick joke, but knowing it wasn't. She'd thought doing nothing was the right thing to do, had known it since the third year 'Nobody's allowed to change time, nobody!', but she'd already changed time unintentionally – putting her in a quandary – every second she remained here, took a breath here, she changed something. It was like one of those figures the media used to bandy about, Hermione thought, that every time you blinked a child died of a particular illness, but in this case, every breath she took, she changed something else. Perhaps she could - no. She squinted again at the letter, the light fading quickly, the forest a stark silhouette. 'Do not blame yourself' it read – how could she not blame herself? It was entirely her fault, whether she chose to face the fact or not.
Miserable, she ran again, slipping along the wet grass, falling over more than once, always springing back to her feet immediately, remembering – she bore responsibility for Emmeline's death. This intermingled with the grief she felt – she'd known and liked Emmeline, had got along well with the stately witch, whose dignity was rarely broached, and for her seventeenth birthday, the month previously, had even sent her a book on rare charms 'Unusual and Uncommon Charms for the Unusual Wizard.'
She'd reached the lakeside, the muddy banks just as slippery as the damp slopes, and a misplaced foot caused Hermione to trip over, landing unceremoniously on her bum, coated in a layer of sticky mud. Hermione rubbed her face with mucky palms, smearing her face with dirt, wishing she might wake up and realise it had all been a dream - a false, delusional hope and one that she shouldn't harbour.
"Hermione!" Dorcas slithered down the bank, robes flapping in the southerly wind that cloaked her approach. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What are you doing here?" Hermione snapped, pushing off one hand onto her feet, crumpling the letter into a ball and thrusting it into a pocket.
"Seeing why you sprinted out of the hall in the middle of dinner!" Dorcas retorted, the beginnings of anger causing tendrils of an angry flush to creep across her face.
"Whilst I appreciate your concern-" Hermione began coolly, barely maintaining her control on her anger – her usual iron control was slipping.
"Don't you dare blow me off!" Dorcas interrupted furiously, her hair whipping around her face. "Don't you dare!"
"Why shouldn't I? BFG!" Hermione retorted, misery and anger giving her retort a spiteful edge.
"Because I'm your friend!" Dorcas burst out, eyes bulging and her face puce. "Because I care!"
"Funny," Hermione fumed, "That you haven't noticed what's going on with Alice then, isn't it?"
Dorcas brandished her wand, her hand trembling. "How dare you?" Her voice shook with anger. "How dare you – you don't know Alice at all – how could you presume-" Her voice faltered, and her wand hand trembled further. "You don't know her, how could you know-"
"Know what?" Hermione's voice was caustic.
"Alice doesn't trust easily!" Dorcas' anger rose to the forefront again, defending her friend with burning ire. "She doesn't let people in past the walls for a long time – d'you know how long it took for her to confide anything in us? Three years, Hermione, three years, before we learnt anything about Alice – you can't expect her to just trust us with a big secret! We're not blind!" Dorcas sucked in a deep breath. "Prying only makes her more determined to hide things Hermione!"
"Well I didn't know that!" Hermione attempted to justify her accusation. "Besides – those letters – what's Alice hiding?"
"I don't know!" Dorcas' dimmed from its crescendo, and she thrust her wand into a pocket. "But she'll tell us when she's ready. Stop trying to change the subject - this isn't about Alice – it's about you!"
"It doesn't matter." Hermione murmured, turning her back to Dorcas. "It's not – I'm not – I can't-"
"Tell me?" Dorcas finished bitterly, "Same as always then."
Hermione bristled at Dorcas' tone – after all that had happened to her, after all she'd suffered - that wasn't fair. "You don't know anything!" She echoed Dorcas' previous words.
"I know that I'm being left out of the loop – as usual." Dorcas said sourly.
Hermione gaped at Dorcas. "What are you talking about?"
"It's nothing."
"Liar."
"Hypocrite." The girls had reached a stalemate, both unwilling to back down and both were determined to pursue the matter further.
Hermione spun on her heel. "This is going nowhere. If you don't mind-" she made a shooing motion with her hand.
"Please." Dorcas snorted. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what's going on."
"Well I can't!" Hermione half-screamed, exasperated. "I can't explain to you my emotions when I don't understand them myself!"
"You can at least tell me what happened!" Dorcas grabbed Hermione's forearm.
"Fine!" Hermione's control snapped, elastic band like, and she shoved the crumpled parchment in Dorcas' face. "A friend of mine is dead. Dead, Dorcas – and it's all my fault! I could've done something – anything – but I didn't act and now she's dead and I can never forgive myself! There - happy?" Hermione snatched her arm from Dorcas' grasp. Dorcas stood, stock-still, the blood draining from her face. Then she laughed, a manic laugh of disbelief.
"That's really funny Hermione!"
"I'm not lying!" Hermione stamped a foot in impatience. "It's all my fault Emmeline's dead! All my fault." She whispered, shoulders slumping as she turned away from Dorcas.
"Hermione. What – what happened?"
"She died-" Hermione's voice trembled, as she sat by the lakeside. "Enid…Enid said she was killed, acting off a tip off of hers."
Dorcas waited silently, not leaping in, as Lily might, to assure Hermione that it wasn't her fault at all – and for that Hermione was grateful. "But it's my fault about the tip off," she continued after an age, flicking a stone into the water. "It's my fault she died.
"You weren't the one holding the wand." Dorcas pointed out. "You didn't kill her."
Hermione understood the meaning of Dorcas' words. "But I might as well have done."
A harsh breeze stirred their cloaks in the wind, almost knocking Dorcas over. "Look," Dorcas began tersely, rubbing her arms with her cloak. "You can blame yourself till the Jarveys come home but it won't bring her back and it won't make you feel any better-"
"But neither will pretending that it wasn't my fault." Hermione interrupted dully.
"And self-pity will get you nowhere!" Dorcas snapped, losing her patience. "If you're just going to sit there and wallow in your own misery, then you're welcome to it! I'm trying to help you, but you've got to help yourself!"
"How exactly?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow, firing off a sarcastic reply. "It's not as if I can raise the dead."
"You could try and fulfil what she would've wanted you to do!" Dorcas retorted. "Do something useful in her memory!"
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, as if she had been struck. What Dorcas said made sense, she thought slowly, but she couldn't, it was against all the rules...but, there were no rules yet, Hermione thought, half-tempted. No rules at all – besides, there were so many lives she could save. Playing God – it would all end in tears, her conscience warned. She'd be doing so much good, Hermione argued, worrying her lip, that surely overruled any 'playing God', didn't it?
Professor McGonagall leaned across the empty Headmaster's chair, lips pursed, embarrassed for her house. "Horace?" she inquired, "What do you propose we do about this?" she waved a hand to encompass the hall – the chattering students, stunned ghosts and teachers eyeing McGonagall speculatively.
Horace glanced up from his meal, gobbets of meat stuck in his moustache – McGonagall winced slightly, but awaited Horace's answer – it had taken her a number of years to become used to addressing her old teacher as an equal. "Is it really necessary at the moment Minerva?" He glanced longingly down at his pie. "Just a little tiff surely? I venture to say there's no need to interfere with the student's dinner, over a minor disagreement between chums!"
"Horace." Minerva's voice was cold, and she frowned at the potion's professor, whose walrus like moustache twitched once.
"Very well Minerva." Slughorn sighed, taking a last mouthful of pie. "If you'll give me a moment."
"A moment then, Horace." Minerva shifted in her seat to face her neighbour, Pomona, who was busily attacking her sprouts with relish. "Pomona?"
"Mhmm Minerva?" Pomona's cheeks bulged outwards, appearing strangely like a chipmunk – Minerva was sure that if Pomona ever became an animagus, her form would be a rodent of some sort. Pomona flushed, looking for all the world a guilty student, caught at the scene of the crime – she was still young, Minerva remembered, in her late twenties perhaps, and prone to occasional acts of mischief in the staff-room.
"I don't suppose," Minerva began, "That you agree with me that something should be done after that display?"
"Well" Pomona said, quickly swallowing her mouthful of sprouts with difficulty. "Minerva, wouldn't it be better to give the girl some time to herself? There's no rule about leaving dinner is there? Otherwise I'dve been in trouble too!"
Minerva half-smiled, recalling the incident, where a fifth year Hufflepuff by the name of Pomona Sprout had thrown a bowl of soup in a Gryffindor boy's face and stormed from the hall, only to be found several hours later, sobbing in Greenhouse 4 amongst the honking daffodils. "That aside," Minerva's smile faded. "You do remember what night tonight is?"
Pomona frowned, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling, clouds scudding across the surface of the sky – still the full moon was, just, visible. "The Whomping Willow'll prevent anything happening Minerva. Besides, they may not even be in the grounds!" She heaped spoonfuls of peas onto her plate, before frowning at Minerva. "If we don't see them return before curfew, we'll look for them, Minerva. I just don't think it's worthwhile worrying the students too much – or drawing attention to the particular danger of the grounds tonight; it's not fair on Lupin." She whispered the last, looking covertly at Minerva.
Minerva heaved a sigh. "I have got Potter in a detention tonight. Let it never be said that Hufflepuffs are without common sense or cunning."
"It's true," Pomona smiled a little. "We Hufflepuffs are often underestimated."
Very true, Minerva thought, a grudging respect for her colleague and ex-pupil growing. "The next match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor should be interesting then!"
"Ready for tonight Prongs?" Sirius nudged James, who scowled into his pudding.
"I can't, remember? Detention 'til half-nine with McGonagall, for jinxing Granger." James replied sourly.
"Mate – attempting to jinx Granger!" Sirius ruffled James' hair, with a grin.
"Same difference." James mock-punched Sirius half-heartedly, before returning to his dinner with a sigh.
"Prongs, mate, I would've done the same - but, you're missing out tonight Jamie," Sirius leant back in his chair, stretching out with a yawn. "That's all I can say."
Peter glanced between the two of them confusedly. "Is there something I've missed here?"
"There is indeed Wormy, not that-" Sirius began with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, before he broke off abruptly to wave a hand in front of James' face.
"Quit that Padfoot." James swatted Sirius' hand impatiently. "Where're Evans and Ormond going?"
"They're probably scuttling off to their little lair in the bookshelves." Sirius grinned, staring after the departing girls. "Merlin Prongs – you're not going to follow them!"
James ruffled his hair, giving the girls one last glance before facing Sirius. "Stalker, I am not."
"Of course you aren't Prongs, I mean, following someone round, constantly pestering them to go on dates with you and doodling L.E. and J.P on their notes isn't obsessive at all!"
"Thanks for that Paddie – postpone that thought, my detention starts in-" James glanced at his watch, giving it a shake absent-mindedly – it had been his grandfather's and although he was fond of it, it wasn't the most accurate of time-pieces. "-three minutes." Bolting down a last piece of cake and a quick swig of pumpkin juice, James sprinted from the hall; with a parting 'See you later!'
"So what were you gunna say Padfoot?" Peter asked curiously.
Sirius stared over Peter's shoulder, smirking slightly in the manner that had endeared him to so many of the girls in the school. Peter gave Sirius a bemused look, following the direction of Sirius' glance, comprehension following instantly.
"You'll see Pete." Sirius lips curved upward once more before he speared a potato. "You'll see."
"You've got to check the towers Alice – you know I don't like heights! I'll check the grounds, alright?"
A dark head bobbed upwards, emerging from a reverie. Severus Snape stared as his onetime friend and would-be love left the hall. Check the grounds, he wondered, for what precisely? He felt a nagging feeling at the back of his mind…
"Merlin, if the Mudblood was any more anal then she'd be married to Binns!" Mulciber drawled, twirling his wand between two fingers. "Who gives a fuck about Meadowes and the other Mudblood?"
"The other Mudbloods?" Severus sneered, his gaze wandering over to the other side of the hall, as Black smirked at him. Severus gripped the wand in his pocket tightly, wishing he could watch Black writhe in pain as he cursed him. Still, he'd get his revenge – he knew what their friend Lupin was and better still, he knew how to get past the Whomping Willow, the knot at the base of the trunk – when he exposed Lupin they would regret what they had done to him. Severus' resolve hardened, more determined to expose Lupin than ever. Maybe, when Lily saw he was right, that he had been right all along, she be his friend again. He contemplated her red hair, her fiery personality with a sigh, trying to shift his mind of her – it hurt to think of Lily.
Severus froze mid mental-headshake. Where was Lily going? The grounds? The blood drained from Severus' face – the grounds! Merlin – how could she be so idiotic? Hadn't he told her his theories? What little doubts Severus had held faded to nothingness, his mind filled with horror – Lily, alone in the grounds.
"Severus – are you listening?" Avery asked him impatiently. "We were talking of the latest developments within the Ministry."
"The developments – of course." Severus nodded to indicate his understanding, resisting the urge to tear from the table like a wild animal – and possibly foaming at the mouth too, he thought wildly. He had to stay, he knew – to run from the table like an impulsive Gryffindor would lose him far too much status in the house – what precious little he had to begin with. Instead Severus cast his mind back - he had to remember how to get into the passageway, he had to stun the thing before it got on the grounds, he couldn't let it hurt Lily! He thought back to the conversation, of sorts, he'd had with Black.
"Snivelly, what a pleasant surprise!" Potter sneered, as Black twirled his wand between his fingers in what appeared to be his signature move.
"Fuck off." Snape flipped the bird at his tormentors, his wand hand plunging into his robes.
"My, my Snivellus, such language." Potter flicked his wand lazily at Snape, which he struggled to avoid, but realised he had failed as a revolting taste swamped his senses.
"Petrificus Totalus!!"
"Prefect." Black nudged Potter, twirling his wand again, as Potter ruffled his hair, walking towards Lily and the approaching Prefect.
Black squatted beside Snape, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. "You know Snivelly; you've been doing a little bit of snooping lately – a little too much snooping. There's a knot at the base of the Whomping Willow – press it and you'll find your answers." Black smirked, flipping his wand and catching it before he stood. "I'd love to stay Snivellus, but your stench is a little overwhelming."
Snape, of course, hadn't believed Black at all – what kind of person would believe his torturers? Still his curiosity had been piqued and after a couple of experiments, away from the prying eyes of teachers (pupils had been banned from approaching the tree after the idiot Hufflepuff, Gudgeon, had nearly lost an eye) and had discovered to his shock, that Black had told the truth.
He had been consumed with desire to oust Lupin all month, burning to reveal Lupin as the beast he was, but his desire was riddled with doubts.
Snape was sure – he would deal with Lupin, revenge himself on 'the Marauders' and redeem himself in Lily's eyes in one fell swoop. Severus smiled, his death grip on his wand loosening somewhat. He would deal with them all.
Shivering as a gust of harsh wind pummelled her; Lily grabbed her cloak more closely round herself, wishing she had taken Alice up on her offer of exploring the grounds together. The grounds were far more menacing by night than they were during the day, the array of stars concealed by the clouds that scuttled across the sky. A full moon, Lily noted, feet slipping on the wet grass as she scrambled down to the lakeside. She tried to distance herself from her fear, mentally spewing random facts – anything to stave off the fear.
Gunhilda of Gorsemoor invented a cure for Dragon Pox, the Isle of Drear in northern Scotland was inhabited by Quintapeds which had a taste for humans, Probity Probes were used in Portkey Ports, Catalonia in Spain was the native region of the Catalonian Fireball Dragon. Lily almost tumbled head first over a stone as she recited, and she pinched herself – she wouldn't let her fear beat her - it was just the grounds, she would be fine.
Lily trotted down the hill, its slopes fading from a sharp incline to a gentle slant, a light frost gathering. No lights burned in Hagrid's hut she noticed, nor could she hear the customary yelps and whines of Fang – still, maybe Hagrid had gone out to Hogsmede, as he often did. Lily shivered – the ground's seemed far less friendly in the absence of the friendly gamekeeper.
Remus glanced at the window from the corner as the sun sank below the horizon, far too quickly for his liking. He drew his knees to his chest, wishing he hadn't insisted his friends weren't there for his transformation - damn pride. He dug his fingers into his palms, creating crescent moons on his palms - the apprehension was killing him. The sun lowered inexorably, no matter how hard Remus wished it would halt. He gnawed his lip, trying to distract himself, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Shutting his eyes, Remus wished, not for the first time and what he knew wouldn't be the last, that history had been different. That he hadn't been bitten. Remus peered at the window again, as the last vestiges of light faded – it would be soon, he knew. Soon he would endure a pain no human should have to undergo, but then, Remus thought sourly, he wasn't a human. He was a werewolf.
Remus shuddered, resigning himself to the situation – the more relaxed he was, the less painful it would be. Marginally so, at least, but over the years, Remus had discovered he preferred the marginal lapse of pain and forcing himself to relax, than fighting the transformation in agony. He used to fight it, every time, pray that he had been miraculously cured – it had never happened. When had he stopped fighting? He wondered, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relax and distract himself from the cold – he never brought nice clothes or his wand with him when he transformed; often, in his moon-driven ire, he shredded everything in sight, and there was only so much a Reparo could do.
He unclenched his fists, remembering the consequences of a transformation whilst clenching his fists – claws and soft skin didn't mix well, and the blood, human blood, had only increased the wolf's rage.
Remus stood, staring through the window, a blurred figure in the Shrieking Shack. Tonight, the villagers would again gather to whisper and speculate about what possibly could hide within there. Remus only hoped they never realised that it was him. They talked of it often enough, sometimes with pride, more often the profit – the Shrieking Shack definitely helped the village's business. Hopefully they believed it really was a 'rough crowd' of ghosts, that he'd heard bandied about, although there were some other wacky theories tossed around that had made him smile – he'd once heard a seventh year Ravenclaw assure some shocked first years that a Wrackspurt lived in the place.
Light trickled through the window as Remus watched, horrified. He forced his muscles to remain loose and limber, though the urge to tense them, to hide away in a corner and pretend that this wasn't happening was particularly strong. His eyes watered, a sharp pain searing through them, the objects of the room brought into focus, lit by an eerie glow – it was beginning.
Hearing heightened, the sounds of the surrounding world drowned him in an ocean of sound, the pain blinding. Remus pawed at his ears, unaware of the feeling of hands shrinking and changing, of claws ripping through soft skin, as he struggled to stay afloat amidst the pain. Falling to all fours, Remus was lost, drowning in the pain, an animal writhing for an escape, an end to the pain. Scrabbling at the floor, his back arched, bones reassembling themselves into a new shape as the mocking moon shone down, jaw stretching, his tongue lolling and his teeth shifting into sharp points, digging into his tongue, drawing blood, which he promptly spat out, splattering the floor with the clotting liquid.
He shook; fur emerging, and his thoughts clouded, becoming less coherent, a blood lust fogging his mind. The wolf tensed as he heard scurrying footsteps and loping pads. The pain was dulling to a dull throb and he struggled to his feet, eyes narrowed, ears yanked back and tail parallel to the floor. The wolf took a cautious step forward, a low growl forming at the back of his throat.
A shaggy, bear-like dog emerged at the top of the stairs, wagging his tail happily, his entrance covering that of a podgy rat, which stared at him with wide eyes. What did these intruders want, the wolf wanted to know. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth in a snarl. The tip of the dog's tail wagged slightly, as he approached the wolf, the rat taking cover behind the dog.
We're friends the dog seemed to say, bowing low, rear high in the air, tail wagging rapidly, in a gesture of play. The dog's scent flooded the wolf's nostrils, which flared at the scent, which seemed to cry pack.
The fog lifted somewhat from Remus' mind, and he remembered who he was, though he bowed to the wolf's impulses. Holding his tail high and wagging it manically, Remus nuzzled Sirius and Peter in greeting, before swiping in play at Sirius who leaped aside, wagging his tail – yes, full moons with friends were far more bearable.
Hermione sat by the lakeside, half wishing that Lily and Dorcas weren't there, whilst the rest of her was appreciative of their company. She flicked a stone into the lake, watching it skim the surface. It was just as well Lily had come, she reflected. Otherwise she and Dorcas might have been at logger heads.
"What are you doing?" Lily screamed, hurrying down the slope with nimble precision, staring at her two friends, who stood wands drawn. "Accio!" she caught the wands that flew towards her, sprinting towards the lakeside.
"Give me my wand back!"
"Keep your mitts off my wand!"
"Not until you tell me exactly why you were about to duel!" Lily shoved the wands into a pocket.
"Give me back my wand!" Hermione felt helpless without her wand, furious with Lily for taking it from her. "How dare you!"
"Lily!" Dorcas squawked, eyes bulging, face scarlet. "I want my wand back!"
Hermione fingered her wand, shivering under her cloak, as she watched another stone skim, once, twice, three times. "We should probably go back in soon." She said wistfully, watching Dorcas hurl a stone into the lake.
"Probably." Dorcas leant back, enjoying the night. "It's beautiful though."
"Alice'll be wondering where we are." Hermione reminded her, looking up at the sky. "It is nice."
Lily sighed, standing. "C'mon were-beanpole, time to go." She yanked Hermione to her feet, beckoning to Dorcas, who hurled a last stone into the lake, watching it sink with a plop.
"Coming." Dorcas grumbled, staring up at the castle, before groaning, "It's too far."
"And you're lazy!" Lily laughed.
Hermione shivered her mind on her warm bed and the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "It's freezing!" She chattered, waving her wand and instantly feeling warmer.
Lily nodded in reply, starting towards the hill, Dorcas murmuring her ascent as she glanced around curiously. "Isn't that Snape?"
Hermione flicked her head in the direction Dorcas indicated, praying that Dorcas was seeing things. A stark figure battled the winds, hurrying towards the Whomping Willow.
"What's he doing out here?" Hermione asked, as they watched Snape duck under a branch.
"Who cares?" Dorcas shrugged, pulling a face, as the wind threw her cloak to one side.
Lily, whey faced, stared at the flailing tree. "Yeah." She nodded weakly. "Who cares?"
Hermione was in turmoil once again. You wanted to act, the voice whispered; she'd wanted to play God, and here she was standing on a precipice, poised to act – could she? Should she?
Snape levitated a stick, throwing it forwards towards the knot. Whipped by the winds, it was off course, missing the small hollow where the knot lay by a scant inch, still Hermione asked herself, should she act? Snape jumped over a gnarled branch that whipped at his knees with sudden violence, levitating another stick with speed, flicking it in a practiced manner towards the hollow. Hermione held her breath, eyes fixed upon Snape – he knew. He knew what was there, it was the time Harry had mentioned – Merlin!
The tree froze, mid-flail, and Snape dashed forward, weaving his way through the branches that strained to tear strips off his skin.
"What he's doing?" Lily's voice came out as a breathy squeak, breaking the tense silence between the trio. "He isn't, he couldn't -" Snape knelt forward and slipped into the hole, vanishing from sight. "We've got to stop him!" Lily darted forward, making Hermione's decision for her. She would have to act quickly, she gripped Dorcas' arm, breaking into a run.
Picking her feet high as she sprinted through the vegetable patch, Hermione gasped for breath – why was she so unfit? Dorcas loped with ease ahead of her but Lily thankfully, wasn't too far ahead of her. The Whomping Willow had settled after Snape's departure and Hermione wondered if she was being incredibly stupid or simply criminally insane.
What had happened originally? Hermione scanned her memory frantically, flipping through various conversations with Sirius and Remus, ignoring the pain it caused her. What had happened? Snape had gone into the passage way and James – what had James done? Hermione strained her mind, desperately trying to recall what had happened. James had, James had...Merlin! James had saved Snape! Where was James? Hermione scanned the area frantically – James should emerge any minute now, where was he?
Hermione glanced round in increasing desperation, where was he? It dawned on her suddenly, flooding into her mind, one horrified thought – James was in detention! He couldn't save Snape. She had to go in, she alone certain of what lay down there. Hermione trembled as Dorcas levitated a stick, missing the knot – they were wasting time, time they couldn't afford to waste.
"Let me." Hermione scrabbled at her robes, hoping her wand hadn't fallen out as she ran. Digging deep into her pockets, she withdrew her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The stick flew into the depths of the thrashing branches, that lashed at it madly, and Hermione held her breath, hoping it would hold out, that she would find the knot. The stick was difficult to hold on course the wind whipping it madly, almost spinning it. Nearly there, Hermione focussed, jabbing her wand forward as the tree shuddered…and froze.
"Quickly! Go!" Hermione gestured with her free hand, keeping her focus on the stick, praying for the tree to remain still whilst they advanced. Lily tore towards the tree, hurling herself into its depths, Dorcas hurrying after her casting an apprehensive look at the hole. "Go!" Hermione almost screamed, jogging forward, wand pointed at the stick which trembled as she struggled to keep her focus. "Now Dorcas!" Dorcas slid into the hole, white as a sheet. Hermione ran forward, nearly at the hole when she tripped and fell, her concentration broke, the branches immediately beating her. Covering her eyes, Hermione scrambled forward, beating the branches back – the hole had to be close. She gritted her teeth feeling the ground ahead of her with her hand, feeling the damp grass fade to closely packed dirt, her hand falling into the dark. Someone grabbed her hand, yanking her into the hole and she tumbled down, scraping her knees and elbows, small cuts stinging as they filled with dirt.
"Ow!" Hermione couldn't suppress the cry of pain, as she fell to the floor of the tunnel. "Next time, could you be a little more gentle?" She snapped at Dorcas, who retained her ghostly pallor.
"Come on Hermione!" Lily dragged Hermione to her feet, trembling but stern faced.
Lily grabbed Dorcas, pulling her along the tunnel, and Hermione followed, nerves growing steadily – what would they do if they met a fully grown werewolf? Hermione shivered, before she realised Lily and Dorcas were further ahead. She ran after them, sprinting up the tunnel, the dark cloistering and unbearable.
Swinging round a corner – how far had she gone now? – Hermione panted with the exertion, as Dorcas, Lily and Snape swung into focus. Hermione almost crashed into Dorcas' back, but slipped past her to hear what Lily was saying.
"Severus – please – don't be stupid! We have to get out of here! It's not safe."
Snape's eyes gleamed manically, and he yanked his wrist out of Lily's grasp. "It's Lupin alright Lily, just like I told you! I'm going to show that beast to everyone!"
"In hell you are!" Someone interrupted fiercely and Hermione realised with a start that she had interrupted, her wand withdrawn. "Don't you dare do anything!"
"Does Granger love the beast? Beauty and the Beast indeed." Snape sneered, lips curling. "Only less of the Beauty and more of the Beast."
"Listen to me," Hermione's wand flew to Snape's throat and she backed him into a wall, face contorted in fury. "Listen to me, you stupid, ignorant, bigoted idiot! How dare you attempt something underhanded and sneaky like this? How dare you risk your life and ours by doing something this stupid and cruel? How could you-" a low growl cut off the rest of Hermione's shrieked sentence. Hermione blanched, spinning to look down the corridor, to the source of the growl, as Lily held up her wand shakily, shedding wand light down the corridor.
Tufted tail bolt out straight, feral eyes gleaming in the dark, pupils mere slits and a square snout and lips curled in a parody of a smile – it was Remus. Hermione drew in a sharp breath, wand falling limply to her side, fear overpowering her common sense.
"Run!" Snape grabbed Lily's arm, dragging her away, sprinting as the wolf sprang forward, tearing towards them. Hermione turned on her heel, grabbing Dorcas' wrist, running faster than she'd thought possible, faster than she'd ever run before, adrenaline pumping, but knowing that it wouldn't be long before the wolf caught up – if she could just make it out of the tunnel!
Her mind was blank, as it had been at Diagon Alley, numb with fear. She forced it back – there was no Harry here, no Remus – or at least, no human Remus to help her. She had to think! What did she know about werewolves? All those long hours, researching wolves and werewolves, surely she'd learned something? Hermione skidded round a corner, Dorcas sprinting after her, the wolf not far behind…there had to be something! Her heart thudded in her ears and her legs burned with the exertion, but Hermione kept running, not glancing over her shoulder, knowing that the wolf would be gaining on them.
Light lay ahead – Merlin, light! – and the determination gave her a burst of adrenaline, and Hermione shot forward, scrambling towards the hole, crawling up the slope with fervour – she was so close! Rolling outwards, the branches of the Whomping Willow striking her, she jumped to her feet, hauling Dorcas through the roots, hearing Remus close behind. The tree thrashed manically, straining to pummel Hermione and Dorcas, and she could hear the wolf's scrabbling at the slope, desperate to capture it's prey.
The werewolf was scant yards behind them; Hermione could almost feel its hot breath closing in on her neck, tearing into her flesh. A large branch crashed into her arm, severing her connection with Dorcas. "Dorcas!" Hermione screamed, reaching back for Dorcas as a large, hulking silhouette leapt towards her, knocking her to the ground. Hermione rolled and pushed the animal, attempting to throw the thing off, expecting teeth to close round her neck at any second, but it had already rolled off, nudging her up.
"Thank God!" It was Sirius, Hermione realised, with a sigh of relief, jumping to her feet, withdrawing her wand, remembering that a wolf, even a werewolf, was less likely to attack prey that defended itself. Hermione prayed it was true – if it wasn't she was done for. Back paddling, out of the range of the willow, Hermione scanned the area frantically for Dorcas, desperately calling out her name – where was she?
"Let go of me!" Lily twisted, trying to get out of Severus' grip. "Let go Snape! Sev!"
Severus didn't reply, but continued to sprint away, dragging Lily further and further from her friends. "Sev – please!" Severus' answer was merely to tighten his grip on Lily's arm.
"Sev!" Lily tore her arm out of Severus' grasp, turning, withdrawing her wand – she had to help her friends!
"Lily, please!" Severus grabbed her, "Lily, don't be stupid – that beast'll kill you. You can't, I – I forbid you!"
"You forbid me?" Lily laughed madly, incredulously, yanking herself once more from his grip. "Get off me!" she ordered.
"Lily, I-" A series of screams cut off Severus' words, Lily's face paling, before she cupped her hands round her mouth and howled.
"Lily what are you doing?" Severus hissed, clapping his hands over her mouth, but it was too late – a large figure bounded away from the writhing tree – the werewolf. "Shit."
The bear-like dog that was Sirius disappeared into the flailing tree, snarling and snapping sounds emerging from the cloud of thrashing branches. The werewolf, emerged, several bloody gashes on his muzzle, advancing on Hermione and she could see no shred of humanity in his eyes, no hint of the kindly Remus Lupin – all she saw was blood lust and rage. Why had she done this? Why? Hermione's wand hand shook, the werewolf commanding all her attention, and she hoped to whatever entity existed that the book was right. How could she curse Remus? He wasn't himself, he wasn't –
The wolf launched itself at her, and she screamed, swerving to one side, feeling it's claws rake her side, penetrate her skin and there was blood and screams – her screams. It would be her throat next if she wasn't careful. Hermione whirled round, wand outstretched, ready for another attack, when – something howled. The wolf spun, before bounding off to the source of the howling.
Hermione almost collapsed in relief, but remembered something – "Dorcas – oh Merlin!" she raced towards the willow, the tree's wounds nothing compared to the lacerations on her side. Something grabbed her robe and Hermione swallowed a scream, as Sirius pulled her over to a prone body.
Crimson blood was spattered all over Dorcas, her leg bleeding particularly heavily, it almost looked as though a chunk had been taken out of it…Hermione's stomach heaved, rolling with nausea at the sight of her bloodied and battered friend – but she had to act quickly – who knew how long it would be before the werewolf came back –
Hermione ripped off her robe, wrapping it around Dorcas' leg, as a make-shift bandage – it would have to do for the present, before she heaved her friend to her feet, shaking with exhaustion – Hermione wasn't sure if she was in a fit state to turn a matchstick into a needle now, let alone perform advanced healing spells or levitation. Dorcas moaned, her face white, as Hermione heaved her along the path. "Stay awake Dorcas," She whispered desperately, "Just stay awake!"
Sirius pranced backwards and forwards in front of her, a sentry of sorts. "Go!" Hermione nudged him sideways with a leg – he needed to distract Remus before he ripped Lily and Snape to shreds. "Go!"
In her years at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey had seen her share of strange injuries at Hogwarts, but none so serious or as unusual as this. Four students stumbled into her office, sodden in mud, blood and water, with varying injuries.
Forcing the four of them into beds, she was forced to extract the threads of a robe that Dorcas was clasping to her thigh from her wound, before binding it tightly – nothing would close the wound – and pouring a blood replenishing potion down each of their throats. Where was the Headmaster when you needed him? Certain, that for the moment, her patients could be left for a few seconds, Poppy sprinted to her fireplace – she had to call McGonagall.
"Minerva!" Poppy squawked.
"Poppy?" McGonagall's face appeared in the flames, puzzled and irritated. "Yes?"
"You need to come to the hospital wing – immediately!"
"Why?" McGongall was pale. "What happened?"
Poppy's face was solemn. "It's our worst fears – that's what's happened!"
A/N: This is, quite easily, the longest chapter I've written, thus far! Concrit on how well the scenes/emotions have been done would really be appreciated, but thanks for reading anyway!
Times
Hermione leaves dinner, pursued by Dorcas, leaving shocked Lily and Alice.
10 mins later, Lily and Alice leave, Alice goes to tower, Lily to the grounds – SUN STILL NOT SET – James leaves a few seconds later. Hermione and Dorcas arguing.
5 mins after dinner ends, and Sirius and Peter leave – FULL MOON STILL NOT OUT.
½ an hour later, Snape leaves, girls still outside, Remus, Peter and Sirius still in the shack (have decided to wait for James). Wind blowing from the south cloaking all sounds NORTH of the girls.
Turning to go back to the castle, Dorcas spots Snape. Lily and Hermione worried (both know/have an idea of what's down there). Hermione hesitates, but is persuaded by Lily to stop him and they drag Dorcas along.
Hopefully this all makes sense, please read and review, and thanks for reading!
