Chapter Twelve

Too Clever, Really

November, 1975

Back in the Slytherin common room, Judith was more than a little cross that Hermione had abandoned her minutes before the match. But her mild temperament prevailed, and Hermione was able to placate her friend with a flimsy explanation — an owl from Abraxas had requested that she immediately floo call him regarding an urgent family matter — and the suggestion that they visit Regulus in the hospital wing. The boy, contrary to Rabastan's promises, had been injured during the match; he'd been hit in the arm with a bludger while diving for the snitch, which had allowed the Gryffindor seeker to capture it unopposed and end the game.

"Will he have to take skele-grow?" Judith fretted, as the two girls ascended the staircase leading to the hospital wing.

The castle was still buzzing in the wake of the match, and students wearing either red or green — more of the latter than the former, as Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tended to side with the Gryffindor team — milled excitedly all throughout the corridors. Hermione was discreetly scanning each group of students they passed, hoping to catch sight of Remus, but it was to no avail.

In the wake of the board meeting and Lucius's revelation that he now possessed what could only be Voldemort's diary, Hermione found her head spinning. The only person who could have possibly tipped off the governors was Severus, but that made little sense for several reasons, foremost among them the fact that he was a penniless and woefully unconnected halfblood; none of the prominent members of the board would be likely to pay heed to anything he had to say, and Severus was wily enough to know this. If he had really wanted this to get out, he would have tipped of the Prophet or gone directly to the Ministry to file a report. And besides all that, there was a very large part of Hermione that wanted to trust her friend and believe that he cared for her enough to abide by her wishes. But she couldn't ignore that he was, to her knowledge, the only other person who knew about Remus's condition outside of the Marauders. From Old Hermione's memories, she had no knowledge of something like this having ever happened to the Remus in her world. Old Hermione seemed quite sure that no one had ever discovered Remus's secret during his school days; this was an aberration, made dangerous and confusing because Hermione could not pinpoint its cause. Had she done this to Remus merely by existing?

She was beginning to realize just how dangerous it could be to assume that the events of this world would mirror those in Old Hermione's. Ursula and Old Hermione herself had warned her time and again about this assumption, but she couldn't help it. She already had overwhelming evidence of the differences; her family was not truly aligned with Voldemort, for one thing, and all the ripple effects that alone had produced were likely enough to make her world unrecognizable in comparison to her counterpart's. What if her assumption that Lucius had been given the diary was wrong? What if Voldemort didn't even have horcruxes, or if they were somehow different from the ones in Old Hermione's world? In that moment Hermione, despite her knowledge of an entire other lifetime, felt very much like a child.

Calm down. It's no use fretting over things you can't possibly know. Your problem — our problem, really, as god knows I made this mistake often enough — is thinking you know everything, or that if you don't, you can learn the things you don't know. Be wary of making assumptions of any sort; don't assume facts of my world predict facts of yours, but don't assume that they do not. Work off what you can verify; see what Narcissa finds when she goes looking. And relax, for goodness's sake, you're stiff as a board.

As she and Judith approached the hospital wing, she forcibly unclenched her hands and tried not to allow the terrible doubt and conflict she felt gnawing away at her show on her face.

Regulus was propped up by several stiffly-starched pillows on one of the cots closest to the door. His arm was already in a sling, and he appeared to be listening, with evident distaste, to Madame Pomfrey as she bustled about the cot listing off the potions she would be prescribing. Rabastan was seated in a chair next to the bedside, smirking slightly at his teammate's expression, but upon noting the two girls' entrance, he stood.

"And you'll have to take skele-grow for that arm, of course," The matron was saying.

Glancing up at the girls, she gave them a mildly pursed lip and said,

"Visitors for the next hour only, then he needs his rest."

She gathered up her skirts and strode off to the potions cupboard, with a last stern look over her shoulder. Rabastan smiled ruefully, reaching up to ruffle his hair in what struck Hermione as an uncharacteristically boyish gesture.

"I am afraid I owe you an apology, Miss Malfoy, for I have failed to deliver you my seeker unscathed."

"I'm not a bloody package, Lestrange." Regulus grumped, reaching over to his bedside table to grab a glimmering foil bag of chocolates.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"The adoring fans have already stopped by to pay their sympathies?"

"Black has quite the following these days." Lestrange confirmed, even as Regulus tore open the bag and continued to grumble about 'flirting with my friends' and 'talking like I'm not here.'

"Well, Mr. Lestrange, if I recall, our agreement was that you would return him to me without any head injuries; his head seems fine, apart from the usual issues."

"Oh, so I'm the one with head issues, now? What do you call that hair?"

Hermione smiled slightly, and swept her robes to one side so she could take a seat at the foot of the bed.

"I'd watch out for those chocolates, if I were you. I overheard Cedrella Greengrass talking the other day about a coupon in Witch Weekly for two-for-one love potions."

"You're making that up." He replied, although there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he glanced down at the fizzing fudge bar he had just taken a bite from.

She shrugged offhandedly, and then suppressed a giggle as he nudged her none-too-delicately with his foot.

"How's your arm feeling?" Judith murmured, unmasked concern shining from her dark eyes.

"Not bad," He replied, shifting the aforementioned limb slightly in its cotton sling. "You heard Pomfrey; it's broken, but with skele-grow I should be healed in a day or two."

"Let's hope so. We have our match against Hufflepuff next month, and I don't want to run too many practices without you." Rabastan said.

Regulus nodded in eager agreement, but Judith, usually so painfully mild, shot the older Slytherin a perturbed look.

"He's broken his arm, for Circe's sake, and here you are going on about quidditch." She said.

"How did it happen, anyway?" Hermione asked, eager to intercede before Judith - who she could see flushing with indignation - could start a row with Rabastan.

Judith might be meek as a mouse the majority of the time, but she could bristle quite impressively when she felt it was on behalf of her friends. And wherever Regulus was concerned, Hermione knew everything was amplified for the besotted girl.

"You didn't see? My bloody brother got me with a bludger right as I was going in for the snitch. I was a broom length ahead of Thomas; the match would have been ours."

His face grew stormy as he spoke, and by the end he looked ready to punch a wall. Regulus had a temper to rival his brother's - and nothing sparked it like brotherly rivalry. After the stress of the afternoon, she had no desire to be sniped at by the moody boy, and so thought it might be approaching time to excuse herself. But Rabastan spoke before she could.

"I think that's perhaps my cue. Glad you came through it with your limbs mostly attached, Black. I'll see you at practice; we'll make up for today with the Hufflepuffs."

He clapped his teammate on the shoulder attached to his uninjured arm. With a polite nod to both his female housemates, he quietly left the hospital wing. As soon as he was gone, Regulus fixed Hermione with a beady eye.

"Your father wouldn't approve." He declared loftily. "The Lestranges are far too radical."

"I can't say I know what Lestrange's intentions are, but I doubt they're anything approaching serious; there have been rumors floating around about an engagement between him and that Avery girl for years."

"Why bother with him, then?" He grunted, taking a surly bite of fudge.

Hermione frowned at him. Regulus was argumentative by nature, frequently taking pleasure in playing the devil's advocate and not above starting a row for debate's sake. But she hated when he got in these sulky, contrary moods, where his snark was more bitter than playful.

"I think the better question is why am I bothering with you when you're clearly just looking for someone's head to bite off?" She said crossly, rising from her seat at the foot of his bed. "I've had a long day, I'm heading back to the Common Room."

"I think I'll stay a bit longer." Judith said quietly.

Regulus, who had puffed up with indignation, seemed to deflate at this. Whatever blistering retort he had been about to deliver clearly died on his tongue, and Hermione felt herself softening a bit.

"I'll see you at dinner then, Judy. Do as Madame Pomfrey tells you, Reg." She added sternly, and Regulus rolled his eyes.

The real irritation seemed to have drained out of him, however, and as Hermione glanced over her shoulder on the way out of the infirmary, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Judith perched awkwardly on a chair at his bedside while the two spoke softly.

She was approaching the dungeons, and the crowds of excitable students had gradually thinned on each floor until she found herself padding through completely silent corridors. She was preoccupied with anxious thoughts of Remus, her brother, and her upcoming conversation with Narcissa that evening, and so was slower than she ordinarily would have been to notice the nearby sounds of an altercation. It was quite a nasty shock, then, when the witch rounded the corner to find Sirius with his forearm jammed against Severus's windpipe as he held the much smaller boy up against a wall.

Sirius was still in his quidditch robes, his long hair knotty with sweat, and Severus looked quite bedraggled as well; it was obvious they had already been tussling for several minutes, and by the looks of things, Sirius firmly had the upper hand.

"Who else have you told?" He growled.

Severus snarled in defiance, the sound coming out as a choked gurgle owing to the pressure Sirius was putting on his windpipe. Before Sirius could jam the tip of his wand into Severus's stomach, as it appeared was his intention, Hermione cried out,

"Sirius! Let him go!"

The boys' heads both snapped around, an expression of narrow-eyed fury on Severus's face while Sirius looked more startled than anything else. The surprise quickly drained from his features, however, replaced by an expression of furious contempt.

"This miserable twat deserves far worse than a bruised windpipe for what he's done to Remus." He snarled.

"We don't know it was him that tipped off the board." Hermione said, trying to keep her tone even and reasonable.

Sirius Black, for all his mischief and careless insolence, was not to be underestimated when angered; he radiated a dangerous heat, the weight of his barely-contained magic a physical presence in the air. Hermione would never admit it, but she was a little frightened; it was easy to see, in this incensed schoolboy, what would one day quite soon become a fearsome auror.

"Who else could it have been? You said your bloody self that the git had figured it out."

"But I also said that I trusted him! Please, Sirius, let him go."

Hermione was not one to beg; she was a negotiator, a fighter, but rarely a supplicant. But that was precisely what she was doing, her eyes filled with every ounce of pleading she could muster. Sirius stared back at her for a long moment, the anger in his eyes cooling fractionally until it was no longer quite the raging blaze it had been minutes previously. His brow tightened slightly, and then he was loosening the pressure on Severus's neck.

This marginal relief was clearly all the Slytherin needed, for he immediately lunged to the ground and scooped up his wand. Before either Hermione or Sirius could react, he had aimed a cutting hex at Sirius's face and crimson bloomed on the other boy's cheekbone.

"You fucking wanker!" Sirius snarled, leveling his own wand at Severus.

Before things could escalate further, Hermione threw up a shield charm between the two of them.

"Enough! Severus, that's enough!"

Her friend turned to her, his features twisted into ugliness by rage.

"So this is it, then. I knew all along you'd take his side when it came down to it."

"Severus, did you tell anyone?" She said, urgency making her voice tight. "Anyone at all?"

"And what if I did? Are you going to help Black beat me into submission as penance for stepping on the family dog's tail?"

Hermione had to physically step forward and clamp a restraining hand around Sirius's wrist to stop him from lunging forward. They both knew he could easily push her aside, but as he glanced down at her hand it seemed to have a steadying effect. He didn't break her grip.

"I would never raise a hand against a friend, Severus." She said, and he laughed chillingly.

There was a glimmer of something beyond anger, beyond any rational or worldly emotion in his eyes, and Hermione felt, for the second time in minutes, real fear thrum through her.

"Is that what I am, now? Since when? Never fear, Miss Malfoy, I understand perfectly; you're meant for more suitable company than me." He sneered, a terrible coldness having overtaken his expression, and swept off down the corridor, quickly disappearing down a secret passage behind a tapestry.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot for several long moments, struggling to grasp what had just happened. It was only the sudden noise of liquid hitting flagstone that jolted her out of her petrified state; the cut on Sirius's cheek was flowing freely, and it was the sound of his blood dripping to the floor that she had heard.

"You really ought to go to the hospital wing." She said, her eyebrows knitting together with concern.

Sirius reached up to wipe at the gathering blood, wincing slightly.

"No, my brother is there and I can't imagine he's particularly pleased with me just now." He grinned slightly, and Hermione couldn't help but think the he looked rather mad standing there smirking with blood coursing down his cheek. "Shame you missed the game, I was magnificent."

She released a long, pent-up breath, some of the tension leaving her body even as she fixed him with an exasperated look.

"I'm sure you were. Meanwhile, I was negotiating on behalf of Remus's life and livelihood."

All humor disappeared from Sirius's expression.

"And? What did the board say?"

"My brother and I were able to call in a favor or two and keep him from being expelled—"

She was not even able to finish, detailing the disastrous condition imposed by Marius Abbot, before all the breath was suddenly knocked from her lungs. Sirius had pulled her into a crushing hug, the earthy, musky smell of sweat and broom polish enveloping her. She could also swear there was just the subtlest whiff of wet dog present, but dismissed it as her imagination being fanciful.

Pulling back slightly so he could look her in the face, he smiled broadly There was no hint of smugness or sardonic amusement in the look, as there usually was, and Hermione felt her cheeks and nose grow hot; smiling completely unabashedly, it was harder than ever to deny how utterly beautiful Sirius was. Seemingly thoughtlessly, he tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, and she felt her cheeks grow even hotter.

"Brilliant. You're brilliant. I refuse to say your brother is brilliant, but I despise him a minute amount less."

She smiled slightly, and was about to muster a response—in defiance of her racing heart and jangled nerves—when there was the sudden sound of a sharp intake of breath from down the corridor. Hermione's head whipped around, and her eyes narrowed at the sight of Dahlia Parkinson, a silver and green scarf wound around her neck.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt." The girl simpered.

Hermione glanced up at Sirius, who had dropped his hands away from her but still stood close enough for her to feel his body heat. He met her gaze and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, a disdainful curl twisting his lip.

"You're not interrupting anything, Miss Parkinson." Hermione said coolly, taking a nearly imperceptible step back from Sirius.

Dahlia smirked, her mean little eyes glittering with delight.

"Oh, no need to be coy, Hermione. It wouldn't be the first secret of yours I've stumbled upon."

Ordinarily, Hermione would have dismissed Dahlia's words as her usual amateurish mind games. But she knew the girl wasn't an accomplished enough actress to feign the very real light of triumph in her expression. She felt a cool stone of panic harden in her stomach; had Dahlia discovered the papers hidden in her chest? She would have thought that impossible, what with all her concealment and security charms, but perhaps she had been foolishly overconfident. Unlike the other girl, however, Hermione was an accomplished actress, and was not about to let her unease show. She raised an eyebrow, displaying every ounce of unimpressed scorn she could muster.

"I'm sure you stumble upon a great many things, Miss Parkinson, given your distinct lack of coordination." She said coldly.

Sirius snorted inelegantly, and Dahlia's smug look slipped slightly. She seemed to recover quickly, however, treating her adversary to a razor-thin smile.

"Always so clever, Hermione. Too clever, really. My mother always says that wizards don't like witches who get smart with them. Although your Gryffindor halfbreeds and mudbloods don't seem to mind so much, I suppose."

With that, Dahlia turned on her heel and flounced off towards the common room. Hermione allowed herself to frown, sinking deep into thought, while Sirius swore explosively.

"What a cu—" At the warning look she gave him, he rapidly switched directions. "Curmudgeon. Never met such a crotchety and disagreeable bird."

Hermione smiled reluctantly, her thoughts elsewhere. Dahlia being snide was hardly a new development, but it had been always been veiled by subtlety, as was a pureblood lady's way; an insinuating remark here, a barbed joke there. She had never been so boldly obvious with her dislike for Hermione, and the girl guessed it had to do with whatever incriminating information or other advantage she had (or believed she had) on Hermione.

"Listen, Sirius, I have to go. Dahlia's up to something…" She trailed off, her eyes narrowed, and Sirius sighed theatrically.

"Yes, yes, back to your political machinations, Princess. Duty calls."

She began to move away, before a sudden thought struck her.

"Oh, and don't mention to Remus that I had anything to do with this. He doesn't know that I know, and I want him to tell me on his own terms. Marius Abbott, one of the board members, insisted that parents be informed of his presence at the school, although Dumbledore managed to convince him that Remus ought to remain anonymous. So things will shortly be getting trickier for him, I think. He'll be needing friends he can trust more than ever."

Sirius nodded slowly, clearly processing the implications; once parents and students found out, everyone would be clamoring to identify the werewolf amongst them. Remus would have a nearly impossible task before him in concealing his identity—which was, no doubt, precisely what Abbott intended with his imposition of the condition. But what Abbott hadn't calculated for was the werewolf having three very clever, very inventive friends who were not above breaking school rules—or even international wizarding law, for that matter—to protect him. Hermione was confident the Marauders would be able to continue concealing Remus's identity in some ingenious fashion, despite the outcome of the board meeting. Sirius seemed to think so too, as he nodded again after a moment of thought, his expression having cleared considerably.

"We'll think of something."

"I don't doubt it. Just try not to let whatever insane idea comes to mind get you all arrested."

As they moved off in opposite directions, him towards Gryffindor tower to celebrate his team's victory, and her towards the dungeons to investigate Dahlia's suspicious behavior, she momentarily slowed as he threw over his shoulder,

"Parkinson was full of shite, you know. You can get smart with me whenever you like."

She didn't respond and resumed walking, mostly to conceal the blush which had once again made an appearance on her cheeks.

The Slytherin common room was completely deserted, aside from a weedy-looking first year shoved into a corner scribbling away frantically at an essay. Hermione felt herself releasing a sigh of a relief; she had been afraid she might come across Severus. Another disastrous problem requiring her attention, she thought to herself with some exasperation as she silently padded up the spiral stairs to the girls' dormitories. It seemed as though the world was falling in on itself, and all her careful planning—and even the presence of a trans-dimensional war hero with moderate omniscience inside her head—did nothing to prevent it from doing so.

What can I say, you and I were never destined to live quiet or peaceful lives. Old Hermione said wryly, and Hermione wrinkled her nose in irritation.

As she approached the fifth-years' dorm, she slowed her pace and moved with even more careful deliberation. The door was partially ajar, and a brief glance inside revealed Dahlia seated on the edge of her bed rifling through what appeared to be a stationary kit. Drawing back, Hermione pulled the Potters' invisibility cloak from her bag and draped it over herself. She felt a twinge of guilt in doing so, knowing she should have taken the opportunity to give it back to Sirius earlier. But now she was glad she had forgotten to do so, for it would make her task now far easier.

Gently pushing on the dormitory door, Hermione slipped through the consequently larger crack, even as Dahlia's head snapped up at the sound of the hinges creaking. Hermione folded herself against the wall and held her breath, even as the other girl strode over to the partially-ajar door and stuck her head out into the hallway, glancing about suspiciously. Upon seeing nothing, Dahlia frowned and closed the door completely. Hermione ghosted after the other girl as she made her way back to her bed, and came up on the other side of the four poster so she could peer over Dahlia's shoulder as she returned to her stationary set.

The cream-colored parchment had an ostentatious 'DP' written in cursive at the top, with a delicate dahlia flower painted below it. A rather overpowering floral scent emanated from the parchment, and Hermione wrinkled her nose; it must be spelled to smell like dahlias, which she personally thought was rather tasteless. Seeming to sense the negative attention being directed at her, Dahlia glanced over her shoulder, frowning. But upon, once again, seeing nothing, she dipped her quill in the inkwell on her nightstand, and began penning a letter.

Dear Grandmama,

Hermione frowned. Who was Dahlia's grandmother? Lillian Parkinson, on her father's side, but what family had her mother come from? Unlike a great many pureblood children, Hermione had not spent much time studying genealogy as a child. She had glossed over her own relations and some of the more prominent families with her tutors, but had hardly committed herself to memorizing Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, as some young scions did. As Dahlia continued her letter, however, Hermione felt a flash of sudden, clear realization.

I must know how the meeting this morning went. You know how concerned I am with the welfare of my fellow students, and this is, naturally, an issue about which I find myself overcome with passion.

Ophelia Selwyn. Ophelia Selwyn was Dahlia's maternal grandmother. And if Dahlia already knew about the board meeting, then it logically followed that she had been the anonymous tip from within Hogwarts that had nearly lead to Remus's ruin. How she had acquired this information, Hermione couldn't be sure, but she had a strong suspicion that the girl had neglected to respect the sanctity of the goblin statue alcove; it was not unimaginable that she had somehow managed to eavesdrop on her Hermione and Severus as they had spoken several days previously. Hermione drew back and retreated to a corner of the dormitory, resolving to wait until Dahlia left the room to make her escape.

This meant, of course, that Severus was innocent. Although she had not directly accused him, attempting to give him the opportunity to explain himself earlier after his fight with Sirius, Hermione knew that she had not aptly concealed the fact that she strongly suspected it had been him. Severus was one of the most intelligent people she knew; he not only had a razor-sharp intellect, but also tended to be intuitive and see beyond what people said. It would have been obvious to him that she did not entirely trust him, which was perhaps why he had attacked her so explosively.

Under the cover of James Potter's invisibility cloak, where no one could ever possibly catch her in the treasonous act of displaying weakness, Hermione allowed her head to fall into her hands.

AN: Sorry guys! I thought that, with school out, I would have more free time but I've been really busy with an internship and also with working on non-fanfiction creative writing! But don't worry, still chuggin' along. Rest assured, you will be notified if I need to put this story on hold for more than a couple months!