AN: A housekeeping note: I've made Lucius Malfoy about two years younger in this story than he is in cannon, so he could be a seventh year when Hermione comes to Hogwarts.
Chapter 10: A Continued Exercise in Unreality
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a voice asked, the tone distinctly sinister. "A little, muggleborn mouse out for an evening stroll all by herself? Don't you know what a dangerous pastime that is little girl? You could be happened upon by a snake."
Hermione quickly scrambled to distance herself for the boy whose chest she had just collided with, raising her eyes in order to assess him as a potential threat. A probable threat, she amended, if his menacing greeting was any indication of their future interactions. The boy she had run into was tall with dark hair, and a Slytherin, judging by the crest on his robes and his rather unoriginal choice in animal metaphors.
"You really ought to watch where you're going," the Slytherin boy informed her nastily, looking down his nose at her, and sounding for all the world like the stereotypical bully out of one of those films about American teenagers which didn't yet exist.
"Aren't you going to apologize for running into your better?" he demanded of her, and Hermione's eyes widened slightly at the implications. She'd dealt with enough snide, bigoted comments from Draco Malfoy and his cronies back in the 1990's to know what this boy was getting at. How little things had changed in 20 years' time.
"You are not my better," she said quietly, but with conviction, staring at the dark haired boy levelly. She had no interest in needlessly antagonizing an ill-mannered Slytherin, but she was also fundamentally unable to let herself be talked to in such a way without comment.
"Aren't I?" he asked, raising a thin, dark eyebrow.
"No," Hermione said, attempting a valiant, and mostly successful, effort to conceal the tremors in her voice. "You're not."
"How dare you!" the Slytherin said furiously, raising his wand, eyes glinting with outrage, "You foul, little creature, I'll-"
"Avery," interrupted a cold voice, stilling the Slytherin completely. "What's this?"
The owner of the cold voice drifted closer, swanning out of the shadows to reveal himself unmistakably as Lucius Malfoy.
Hermione bit her lip nervously. She'd registered the elder Malfoy's disconcerting presence the moment she'd begun her 1973 Hogwart's term, recognizing him at the Welcoming Feast and quickly looking away, not wanting the older Slytherin to catch her eyes lingering on him overly long. Lucius Malfoy was one of the few people from this time that Hermione was positive was a future Death Eater (it was more than mere suspicion, she was certain of his affiliations), and so far she'd managed to avoid an encounter with him. It hadn't been difficult, as she was a third year Gryffindor, and he a seventh year Slytherin. They had no classes together, and they hardly ran in the same circles; he'd been easy to avoid. She'd heard Snape mention him a few times, undercurrents of awe and fear in his voice that led Hermione to believe the younger Slytherin saw Malfoy as some kind of mentor, or would have if Lucius had deigned to pay him any attention.
She wasn't sure how to take his addition to this situation, only hoping that he wouldn't make it more dangerously volatile than it already was. He was a Prefect, Hermione knew, and pragmatic, she could discern, given the way he'd abandoned the Dark Lord's cause (outwardly, at least), claimed imperious and bought his way into the ministry's good books after You Know Who's fall. Perhaps he would exercise a moderating effect here tonight, and reign his fellow Slytherin in. Not for Hermione's sake, of course, but for the sake of practicality and his image. The Malfoy's usually liked to maintain at least the appearance of respectability, as far as she could tell, and standing by and allowing for the torment of a young girl at the hands of one of his fellow housemate's was hardly respectable, at least in most circles of the wizarding world. Though maybe not the ones in which Lucius Malfoy was currently running.
He was a seventh year, old enough where it was quite possible that he was already a Death Eater, or at least being courted by You Know Who and his ilk. Hermione wasn't clear enough on the timeline of the Dark Lord's rise to know if he'd already been actively recruiting among purebloods at Hogwarts in 1973, but it certainly didn't seem entirely out of the realm of possibility. And she herself had personal experience with the fact that Lucius Malfoy had no qualms about hurting young girls. He'd slipped Ginny Riddle's diary purposely, causing irreparable harm to the youngest Weasley and almost killing her, seemingly just for his own amusement. Of course he'd been older then, hardened by the war and whatever terrible things he had done during it in service of You Know Who. The Lucius Malfoy of the 1990's was also safely ensconced in the realms of power in England's magical community; highly influential at the Ministry, on the Board of Governors at Hogwarts, and entirely secure in his position as the scion of one of the most famous pureblood families in wizarding Britain. He wasn't so established now, here in 1973, and perhaps he would be more cautious as a result. But that wasn't something Hermione could depend on.
"Lucius," Avery greeted him. "I was just educating Hogwarts' newest, unexpected resident about how she ought to treat her betters. The insolent little bitch ran right into me, and hasn't even had the decency to apologize, if you can imagine."
"I see," Malfoy said, his voice measured, eyes flicking between Avery and Hermione, assessing. Eventually, after having appraised them for an unsettling, lingering moment, Malfoy settled on an expression of casual interest. A slight quirk of his thin lips betrayed his faint amusement.
"Well do continue, Avery," Malfoy invited his fellow Slytherin, "in your process of elucidation." He gestured at the dark haired boy, his motion vaguely encouraging, before leaning back against the stone wall of the corridor, taking up the position of an observer.
Hermione shifted nervously. It seemed that despite his position as a Prefect, Malfoy was going to do nothing to stop the situation. She'd hardly thought it likely that he'd intercede on her behalf against a fellow Slytherin; Hermione wasn't an idiot. But she supposed she had held out some slim, naïve hope that whatever his personal feelings towards Muggleborns and Gryffindors, Malfoy might, as a Prefect, feel some obligation to intervene. She had been wrong. It seemed he was quite content to let Avery continue on in taunting her, though Malfoy wasn't yet participating in the taunting himself.
"I thought Hogwarts was supposed to a prestigious institution," Avery was saying with a sneer. "There are enough filthy mudbloods running around this school already, and now they're letting them in by transfer as well? It's a travesty," he sneered.
Hermione said nothing in response to this, not wanting to further anger the Slytherin, especially now that Malfoy had established that he was going to be anything but helpful. The Slytherin Prefect seemed more amused than anything, certainly not inclined to put a stop to Avery's hateful monologue any time soon, the content of which was really quite tediously cliché. She'd heard worse and more original insults from a 12 year old Draco Malfoy back in the 1990's. Not that she had any plans on sharing this critique with Avery or Draco's father. Hermione simply clutched tightly at her wand, her knuckles white around the base as she gripped it, for reassurance more than anything else. She didn't actually think Avery was going to attack her in any manner that went beyond unoriginal, verbal invective about how she and her kind were polluting the wizarding race and ruining magic for the real witches and wizards—namely purebloods.
Hermione was now attempting to tune Avery out, focusing on his body for signs of potential movement (potential attack) rather than on the nasty diatribe against Muggleborns which he was currently caught up in. Every time he said that word foul word though—mudblood—it cut vividly across her consciousness, embedding itself harshly in Hermione's psyche and interrupting her process of attempted disassociation.
"Oi!" came the shout of a new voice, further disrupting Hermione and rendering her attempts to distance herself from the situation in mind, if not body, completely and utterly useless once and for all.
"What's going on here?" demanded an indignant and all too familiar voice. Loudly. Sirius Black was always so incredibly loud. It made him irritatingly difficult to ignore.
"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered under her breath, turning to find that, just as she had feared, a rather heated looking Sirius Black had arrived on the scene, materializing seemingly out of nowhere and looking entirely too eager for a fight. If the arrival of Malfoy hadn't exactly helped the situation, the Slytherin Prefect hadn't escalated things either. Judging by the charged look in Sirius' eyes and his already clenched fists, one of which was clamped eagerly around his wand, she doubted she could expect the same lack of escalation from him.
"Well, if it isn't Blood Traitor Black come rushing in to defend the mudblood," Avery lilted, his tone one of sinister sing song. The tall boy dragged his eyes from Hermione, switching his focus from her to Sirius. "You couldn't be more of a disgustingly, Gryffindor cliché if you tried, could you, Black? " he spat unpleasantly, fingering his wand.
"You'd know all about being a disgusting cliché, wouldn't you Avery?" Sirius growled lowly in response, inching subtly forward until he stood slightly in front of Hermione, raising his wand threateningly. "Don't they have you engaged to your first cousin now?" he taunted. "Bit close to home, isn't it? But it looks like you're only too happy to continue the generations of inbreeding which have so irrevocably damaged your brain."
Avery snarled in rage at the insult, raising his own wand. Hermione sucked in a nervous breath, unconsciously reaching out to clutch tightly at Sirius' forearm. A feeling of unease began to twist in her stomach, and Hermione tossed a desperate look at Malfoy, hoping that as a Prefect, even a Slytherin one, he'd do something to stop this confrontation before it went beyond mere insults. But the older boy simply continued to watch the scene unfold impassively, a look of detached interest on his haughty face.
"You're a good little pureblood soldier, aren't you Avery?" Sirius was saying, eying the other boy with tangible hatred as he continued to goad him. "Going to marry whomever Mummy and Daddy pick out for you? Even if it constitutes incest? We can only pray you don't have any children."
"And what children will you have, Black?" Avery asked bitingly, glancing obviously between Sirius and Hermione, his eyes lingering on the place where Hermione grasped the Black heir's forearm. "Nasty, little mudblood whelps; a series of bitches and bastards to further pollute the wizarding race?"
Sirius' jaw tightened, and Hermione dug her nails sharply into his arm, driven by a combination of fear and desire to restrain him from doing anything more rash than he already had.
"You'll want to be careful, Avery," Sirius warned, "If you keep using that word, I might just do the wizarding world a favor and hex your undersized bollocks right off."
"You've got a mouth on you, Black!" Avery hissed, an angry snake; little specks of spittle flying from his pursed mouth as he spewed threats at Sirius. "You'd better be careful what enemies you make with it, before we deem it necessary to shut you up permanently."
Hermione gasped, turning to Lucius Malfoy and appealing to him directly out of sheer desperation. "You're a Prefect," she breathed, aghast at his lack of action despite herself. "You should stop this"
The young form of Lucius Malfoy turned to look at Hermione, his silver eyes, so like his sons would be, icy and filled with disdain.
"Don't deign to speak to me, you filthy, little mudblood chit," he drawled, and Hermione could feel his disgust for her almost like a palpable, physical force, radiating toward her in waves. At his remark Avery burst into unpleasantly loud laughter.
Hermione bristled with rage, that awful word, mudblood, having been hurled at her far too many times for one encounter. Coming from Lucius Malfoy, father of a boy who would, in another life time, taunt Hermione hatefully time and time again with the slur, it was too much. And he was a Prefect! This went beyond bullying; it was a blatant disregard for his oath and his responsibilities to the school! Hermione seethed, her fists curling in anger at the very thought of such negligence and disrespect for his position on the part of the Slytherin Prefect.
With these thoughts swirling chaotically around in her mind, Hermione found herself striding across the corridor and towards Malfoy almost unbidden, propelled as if by something outside herself. Acting without conscious thought or reason for once in her life, Hermione surged forward and in an explosion of pent of up rage and frustration, punched the elder boy squarely on the nose.
A sickening crunch echoed off the stone walls of the corridor, and blood began to gush from Malfoy's wrenched nose.
In the ensuing shocked silence, Hermione edged slowly away from Malfoy, resuming her place next to Sirius, who, like the other two boys, was now staring at her in stunned disbelief. Slowly she raised her hands, one of them now throbbing distinctly, to cover her mouth, which had formed a round, 'o' of shock. She, Hermione Granger, had just punched a Prefect!
Malfoy had begun to wipe delicately at his face, his ever present sneer unimpeded despite the fact that blood now flowed freely from his thin, aristocratic nose. Ever after, much to the general satisfaction of Hermione and the Marauders, said nose would remain slightly crooked.
"The mudblood has resorted to tasteless forms of muggle violence, why am I not surprised?" Malfoy mused softly, staring coldly at Hermione, who remained in a state of shock. His quiet, measured anger was in stark contrast to the aggressive rage of Avery, whom Malfoy had stalled from returning Hermione's violence with simply a raised hand and threatening look. It seemed the seventh year Prefect carried great authority in Slytherin, so easy was it for him to quell Avery, even despite the other boy's great anger.
"Detention, Miss Granger, for your despicable display of violence against a Prefect. You're lucky I don't inform your Head of House."
Sirius, who had been gawping at Hermione in stunned amazement since she had punched Malfoy, was finally shaken from his awe by this statement from the Slytherin.
"That's a crock of shite!" he snarled. "McGonagall would fucking throttle you if she knew what you just called her, and you know it Malfoy!"
With an air of irritation, Malfoy pulled his cold, assessing gaze from Hermione in order to pin it on Sirius.
"Detention for you as well, Black," he pronounced, causing Sirius to gasp in outrage. "And 20 points from Gryffindor for your disrespect. Now get out of my sight, both of you." he said, effectively dismissing them.
"Come, Avery," he snapped, wiping once more at his still bleeding nose, before striding away into the darkness of the corridor, leaving a stunned Hermione and an equally stunned and angry Sirius Black in his wake.
"Fucking tossers," Sirius spat, glaring malevolently at the backs of the two retreating Slytherins.
"You alright?" he asked, turning unsurely to Hermione. He didn't know how Granger would react to anything he might try to do to comfort her, given their short but combative history. And also the fact that she seemed to completely despise him. Not that Sirius knew what to do or say to comfort her anyway. He was utterly shite at dealing with emotional women, you could just ask his cousins. Granger's silence was dragging on, and Sirius was just opening his mouth to inform her that all Slytherin's were gits, when she finally responded to his query about her wellbeing.
"I..I, yes, I'm alright," Hermione said, shakily. She felt a bit dazed, actually. She had just punched a Prefect in the face! She had punched Lucius Malfoy in the face! She couldn't fathom what had come over her. In her own time, Lucius Malfoy had been a very powerful man with undeniable connections to the dark arts and You Know Who's old regime, despite his influence with the Ministry and high placement in the magical community. It was possible she had just made an incredibly dangerous enemy in this time. How could she have been so stupidly impulsive?
If she had been trying to stay under the radar, punching future, possibly current, Death Eaters in the face was certainly not the way to do so. If He Who Must Not Be Named was recruiting at Hogwarts in 1973, Lucius Malfoy would have been a prime and obvious target for him. If Riddle was already active in such a way in 1973, if his influence had grown to the point where he could successfully court members of prominent pureblood families, those of certain political proclivities which suggested they'd be amenable to him and his cause, Lucius Malfoy would have certainly been on his list of recruits. But Hermione simply couldn't remember if the Dark Lord had been active in such a way all the way back in 1973! She'd read extensively about his rise to power, and now, when it mattered more than ever, more than any History of Magic exam she had ever taken, she couldn't remember vital specifics! What was wrong with her?
"Look, are you sure you're alright, Granger?" Sirius was asking, reaching out hesitantly to grip her shoulder. His words felt distant, located somewhere beyond the haze of Hermione's rapidly increasing panic. She barely registered his touch. Her breathing was becoming erratic. In fact, Hermione was practically hyperventilating, much to the alarm of Sirius.
"Why can't I remember?" Hermione wailed desperately, gripping Sirius' hand like a vice.
"Remember what?" Sirius asked bemusedly. "Never mind, you need to calm down. It's alright! You punched Malfoy in the face!" He reminded her, mistakenly thinking, in the way of a clueless teenage boy, that this would have a soothing effect on the girl. "You'll be a legend!"
"Oh, but I don't want to be a legend!" Hermione moaned, tugging at Sirius' hand in her distress. "I just want to be anonymous!"
Even if Lucius Malfoy was not yet a Death Eater, he was going to become one, and a high ranking one at that. She knew that for certain. And Hermione had just given him a very vivid reason to remember her in the form of a broken nose. She moaned once again.
Sirius was becoming increasingly confused and alarmed by the state of the girl before him.
"Are you upset about…what he called you?" he asked awkwardly, thinking of the horrible slur Malfoy had used against Granger.
"I've been called a mudblood before," Hermione said quietly, having trouble fathoming her extreme reaction to a term which she had heard so many times before. "But I suppose it just built up, and he wasn't doing anything to stop you and that other boy fighting! He's a Prefect, he had a duty to intervene! But oh, I shouldn't have punched him!" she cried hysterically. "How could I have punched him?"
"I dunno, but it was fucking awesome, Granger!" Sirius cheered, before deflating abruptly, an expression of righteous anger overtaking his aristocratic face. "Who else has been calling you a-,"he faltered. "That?"
Hermione sighed heavily, tugging once more at Sirius' hand, "Never mind, Black, let's just go back to the common room. It's almost curfew, and the last thing we need is to get caught out by Filch and receive even more detentions."
She began to drag him roughly in the direction of Gryffindor tower.
"Oi!" Sirius protested. "It's only detention, Granger, relax!"
Hermione stopped abruptly, causing Sirius to stumble a bit in her wake, almost crashing into her. She spun around to glare at him. "You don't understand!" she shouted.
"Clearly not," Sirius muttered, mystified. Hermione resumed dragging him down the corridor and he let himself be led. He wasn't going to try to bother reasoning with her anymore when she was acting like such a nutter.
When they finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione snapped the password at the Fat Lady (prompting an aggrieved look from the woman), before scrambling through the portrait hole, pulling Sirius in along with her.
Together, they stumbled into the common room just on the wrong side of curfew, the pair of them looking rather the worse for wear. Hermione was in a frenzied state as a result of their encounter with the Slytherins, fretting anxiously about the possible catastrophic results of her actions. Sirius, for his part, appeared to still be in shock. Heedless of the stares their dramatic entrance had garnered from their fellow Gryffindor's, Hermione barreled single-mindedly across the common room toward girls' dorm, hauling a bewildered Sirius in tow behind her.
It was only when she had reached the stairs leading up to her dormitory that Hermione realized she was still holding Sirius' hand. Horrified, and suddenly conscious of the stares of their housemates, Hermione flung his hand violently away from her. Flushing a graphic shade of red that would have put any of the Weasley's to shame, the witch then stormed up the stairs, leaving Sirius Black and a roomful of gaping Gryffindors behind her
James, who had been in the midst of penning a tedious and almost certainly useless History of Magic essay, was happy to be distracted by the spectacle which had just occurred. Especially since it happened to involve his best mate.
"What the bloody buggering hell was that?" he demanded of Sirius, who still was staring in the direction of the stairs to the girls' dormitory, despite the fact that Hermione had vanished up them already. "Did you…" and here, a rather comical expression of disbelief overtook James' face as the thought occurred to him. "Did you snog Granger?"
"What?" Sirius snapped, spinning around to face his friend. "No!" he denied, at the same time that Remus said, "Surely not."
"Hey," Sirius protested, shooting a petulant look at Remus. "We could have been!"
Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. "Sirius," he said patiently, as though explaining something obvious to a small and rather dense child, "Hermione dislikes you. Profoundly."
"Well," Sirius huffed. "Yeah. But I hardly-"
"If you weren't snogging Granger what were you doing with her?" James interrupted loudly, cutting Sirius off before the conversation devolved into a defense of his mate's prowess with the opposite sex.
"You were supposed to be nicking snacks from the kitchens for us." Peter complained, seemingly put out over Sirius' failure to return with food.
Sirius rolled his eyes theatrically. "I was on my way to the kitchens, when I ran into Granger cornered by a couple of snakes."
James' eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Avery and Malfoy." Sirius relayed darkly. "Avery was insulting her, he had his wand out and everything. He was threatening her, and Malfoy was just standing there like the great git he is letting Avery go at her. Obviously I couldn't just pass by. Two against one is hardly sporting, especially her being a girl and all. Had to go even the odds a bit."
James nodded seriously.
"Avery was being really nasty, calling her a mudblood and shit," Sirius said quietly, looking down.
Peter gasped at the slur, and Remus, normally the calmest of the boys, clenched his fist in anger.
"Yeah, it was pretty bad. When I came over, Avery and I started trading insults, and Malfoy was still just standing there watching it all. I think Granger actually thought he might do something to stop it."
James snorted, while Remus simply shook his head.
"I know," Sirius said, sharing a sober look with his fellow Marauders. "But you know Granger, faith in authority figures and all that. Eventually, she asks Malfoy why, as a Prefect, he's not doing anything to break up the fight. Real indignant and self-righteous about it." He explained, smiling a bit at the recollection. "Malfoy just looks down his nose at her like she's the shit beneath his shoes, and then he called her a mudblood too"
Remus shook his head again. Peter's eyes were wide.
"But then, get this!" Sirius continued, grim demeanor vanishing and excitement overtaking his voice as he neared the climax of his story. "Something about Malfoy calling her a mudblood must have set Granger off, because after he says it she gets this…" Sirius searched for the right word. "Possessed look on her face, and the next thing I know she hauls off and punches Malfoy on the nose!"
"No!" James said loudly, and Peter let out a high pitched gasp of disbelief.
"You're not serious?" Remus asked faintly.
"Dead serious, mate," Sirius affirmed with satisfaction, not even stopping to make the obvious joke. "I think she broke it, there was blood everywhere!"
"Wicked!" James declared, almost giddy. "I can't wait to see him, if we're lucky he'll be permanently deformed!"
"I know!" Sirius agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "Granger got all freaked out about it though," he said with a frown. "I tried to tell her it was worth the detention, but she wouldn't listen to me. Oh, we both have detention now, and we lost house points. Or at least I did," he added as an aside. James shrugged, as though this hardly mattered given the circumstances, which is exactly how Sirius felt about it. If anything was worth a detention and losing some house points, it was punching Malfoy in the face! Even to witness it had been a privilege and thing of beauty.
"Granger was acting like it was the end of the world or something though," Sirius muttered.
"She's probably worried about retaliation from the Slytherins," Remus pointed out practically. "Malfoy won't take a punch in the face lightly, especially not one from a Gryffindor muggleborn three years younger than him."
Sirius snorted. "Yeah, because it's humiliating. Who knew Granger had it in her?" He marveled, shaking his head in admiration. He didn't exactly like the girl, and she certainly didn't like him, but he had to respect anyone who punched a Slytherin in the face. Especially one who was as great a git as Malfoy.
"I bet Malfoy'll keep it hushed up though actually. Wouldn't want to damage his big, bad reputation." Sirius paused here to roll his eyes. "Avery's the only witness in Slytherin, and he's well under Malfoy's thumb if the way he acted tonight is anything to go by."
Remus hummed thoughtfully. "You're probably right Sirius, but Malfoy will still be angry."
"Too right," James agreed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on Granger, make sure Malfoy and the snakes don't try anything with her."
Sirius nodded in grim affirmation. "We should let the Prewitt brother's know as well. They'll look out for her.
Meanwhile, Hermione had just burst into the third year girls' dormitory, startling Lily from her own History of Magic essay.
"What's wrong?" the redhead demanded immediately, concerned by the other girls unusually frazzled manner.
"Oh, Lily," she moaned. "I'm afraid I've done something terribly stupid!"
"Hermione, what?" Lily asked worriedly, sitting up in bed, her essay forgotten for the time being.
"I punched Lucius Malfoy in the face!" Hermione wailed hysterically. "I think I broke his nose!"
"I'm sorry, you what?" Lily asked in astonishment.
"Punched! Lucius Malfoy!" Hermione cried, ululating wildly.
"Hermione, he's a seventh year Prefect!" Lily breathed, aghast.
"I know, I know," Hermione cried, wringing her hands anxiously. "Of course Black thought it was amazing-"
"Sirius Black?" Lily demanded, and Hermione nodded distractedly. "You were with Sirius when you punched Malfoy?" Hermione nodded again, and Lily stared at her, utterly gob smacked at this turn of events. Granted, she had only known Hermione for a short time, but the other girl was usually so level headed! Now she was gallivanting around with Sirius Black, whom, by Lily's estimation, Hermione hated more than she herself hated James Potter, and punching Slytherin Prefects in the face! "Hermione, how did this happen?" Lily asked, totally bewildered.
Hermione settled on the bed next to Lily and began relating the story to her red headed friend. To her surprise she found that it was actually quite helpful to talk about it with Lily. The more of the story that Hermione unloaded, the better she felt, and by the time she was finished telling the other witch what had happened, she was considerably calmer then she had been.
"They really called you a mudblood?" Lily asked softly when Hermione had finished, and the other witch nodded in confirmation. "That's vile," Lily said fiercely, her vibrant green eyes sparkling with anger on behalf of her friend.
Hermione bit her lip. "Even so, I shouldn't have resorted to physical violence. It was incredibly undignified of me, not to mention foolish."
"Maybe so," Lily acknowledged. "But I still think it was badass!"
Hermione smiled weakly at her. "You do?" she asked tentatively.
"Absolutely," Lily said firmly. "Teach anyone else to think twice before the call you a mudblood! And I think Sirius Black thought it was pretty badass too, so I'm not the only one," she observed archly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, and now I've got detention with him," she said with a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest mulishly. "Just what I need."
Lily shot her friend a hesitating glance. "Hermione…can I ask you something?"
"Of course," Hermione said promptly.
"Why do you hate Black so much?"
Hermione stiffened. "Why do you hate Potter so much?" she countered.
It was Lily's turn to roll her eyes now. "Because he's cruel to Severus, he flirts with me incessantly, and he's an all-around giant toe rag. You know this." She moved a strand of hair behind her ear, looking determined to get this out, despite what appeared to be Hermione's lack of receptiveness to hearing it. But Lily was perplexed; Hermione's behavior around Black was downright bizarre, and she simply didn't understand why. It just didn't make sense!
"Black doesn't flirt with you, or at least not anymore. Not since he realized you loathe him, given that you're as about subtle about it as a bludger to the face. Unlike Potter, it seems Black has the ability to take a hint," Lily said wryly. "Granted, he's obviously still a bit of a toe rag, but no more so than Potter, and you don't seem to have a particular problem with him." She sighed. "Look Hermione, I'm hardly the biggest fan of Black or any of the other so called 'marauders', but it sounds like he really stood up for you tonight, even if he was a bit reckless about it."
Hermione was picking fixedly at a loose thread in Lily's duvet, attempting to ground herself. Despite her efforts, she found herself helpless against the cascade of confusing and troubled thoughts which had been lurking in the back of her mind since her and Black's encounter with the Slytherins, unleashed by Lily's uncomfortably blunt observations. Why had Sirius stood up for her? He should have been as disgusted by her as Malfoy and Avery were, Muggleborn that she was. Instead, he had seemed disgusted by the Slytherins, and particularly disturbed by their repeated use of the word 'mudblood'. Thinking back, he hadn't even been able to bring himself to repeat the slur to her, fumbling awkwardly around it despite what must have been his familiarity with the term; his upbringing being what it was. Black had seemed…concerned for her, and genuinely so, despite her behavior towards him since she had arrived in the 1970's, which she herself could admit had been quite harsh up to this point, even if she did feel it was justified given Black's future actions.
But this wasn't the future, this was the past. And Lily was right, Black had stood up for her tonight; put himself between her and the Slytherins. If the behavior hadn't been coming from Sirius Black, she would have said that, objectively, his actions tonight could almost be considered sweet. Quite chivalrous, really, if one were inclined to view the threat of violence on one's behalf in a positive light, which Hermione wasn't sure she was, but still. In the heat of the moment, she had felt aligned with Sirius. She had felt that he was unequivocally on her side. She had felt safe with him. But how could that be? Horrifically, she could now distinctly remember clutching at his forearm in distress. Of all the things! How could she possibly have behaved in such a way toward a future Death Eater and murderer? How could she have reached to him for comfort? Shouldn't she have intuitive, self-preservation instincts that protected against such interactions?
Hermione had seen something unsettling in Sirius' eyes tonight; a dark, dangerous anger equal to or surpassing anything Avery or Malfoy possessed. There was real rage behind his creatively nasty insults. It was undeniably potent for someone his age, at least in Hermione's experience. But that fierce anger of Sirius', which she sensed had the potential to erupt into violence, hadn't been directed at her. It had been directed at Avery and Malfoy. Indeed, it had felt almost protective. Lily was right about one thing, it didn't make sense. Nothing did.
"Nothing makes sense," she said out loud. "I don't know what's real anymore."
Unsure what to make of this rather cryptic response, Lily resolved to chalk it up to the traumatic events of Hermione's evening catching up with her. The red head was unable to fathom any other explanation.
"Let's get you some murtlap essence for that hand," she said finally. "It'll sting like something else come morning if you don't soak it."
Hermione hummed in agreement, and if she was a bit dazed and distant for the rest of the night, Lily supposed that was only to be expected.
Maybe she won't hate me as much now, Sirius mused to himself later that night, after the others had fallen asleep, thinking of the way Granger had clutched at his arm during their confrontation with Avery and Malfoy. The way she'd let him edge in front of her, allowing him to shield her from Avery and Malfoy, accepting his protection against the Slytherin's even if she hadn't been fully conscious of doing it. And then she'd grabbed desperately at his hand, and she hadn't let go of it the whole way back to Gryffindor Tower. Not until she'd realized that she'd tried to drag him upstairs to the girls' dorm with her. Granger had a surprisingly strong grip for such a slight girl.
An: I can't resist parallels, or badass Hermione reviews are love y'all.