A/N: Hello! Welcome to chapter thirty-two! I've been reading a lot of Remus fanfiction this week (all weeks, but especially this week) and it gave me some of the inspiration I'd been lacking to bring in more Marauders.
Love Always,
Eli x
Disclaimer: I do not own the works herein, all characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling, and all characters, storylines, situations, plots and the like do not belong to me. I make no money from this work.
Warnings: Rated M for situations, swearing, violence, sexual scenes... The whole lot, basically. Dumbledore Bashing, too. Severus doesn't have the best time, bless him.
The Ghost of Grimmauld Place
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tuesday 14th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Library
Severus had already turned to face his new opponents, delight and ire intermingled in his eyes. Christmas had obviously come early for him; idiot macho men.
And that, sadly, included her brother. James and Sirius stood, silhouetted between the bookshelves, a primal light in their eyes as they faced off against the two Slytherins. "James!" Hermione snapped. "What are you doing?"
"Don't get involved, 'Mi," Sirius murmured, gleefully tracking the rhythmic clenching of Severus's fists. "You stay over there."
Regulus shot her a smirk which made her want to punch him. Instead, she danced in front of Severus too quickly for him to respond, and threw out her arms. "No fighting in my library!"
"C'mon, 'Mi!" James groaned, twisting his wrist to aim around her. "He offended you. It's my right to duel him on it!"
She stamped her foot in frustration. "This isn't a duel, James, it's a recipe for a bloodbath. Back off!"
Behind her, Severus grunted. "I don't mind," he muttered maliciously. "Get out of the way, Potter."
She turned her head, careful to keep her body directly in the other boys' line of sight. "You shut up, Snape," she spat. "I'm still mad at you."
"Ha!" James hooted delightedly. "Hear that, Snivellus?"
"Shut up, James! What is wrong with you?"
"I saw him, 'Mi," James sang, edging closer, fierce eyes fixed above Hermione's head. "With his greasy nose in your face." Suddenly, his happy-go-lucky face failed and he flicked haunted eyes to her. "You looked scared."
"Of course I looked scared," Hermione sighed. "He's twice my size. That doesn't mean you have to kill him!"
"I'm not going to kill him," James said, at the same time as Sirius said, 'no, but it's a bloody good excuse'. "I might break a limb or two…"
"I'd like to see you try," Severus sneered. Hermione brought her foot down on the instep of his shoes with as much strength as she could muster. He didn't flinch – bloody dragonhide.
"This is ridiculous," she huffed, then swivelled on the balls of her feet to bring the sharp point of her elbow driving down into Severus's right wrist. He shouted in pain, automatically cradling his injured arm closer, loosening his grip on his wand. Hermione yanked that out of his hand and tucked it into her pocket, finishing the turn gracefully to face her brother. "See?" she snapped, ignoring Regulus' snort of amusement. "It's very sweet of you to defend me, dear brother, but I can look after myself."
If anything, this only served to make James' face scrunch further in displeasure. "But you don't have to," he said stubbornly, not lowering his wand, despite his 'opponent' now being both incapacitated and unarmed. "That's what I'm here for."
Miraculously, Hermione was able to keep from rolling her eyes. "No it is not," she sniffed. "You're my big brother. You're supposed to support me and love me and be embarrassed by my feminine antics."
"And kill anyone who threatens you," James added. "Dad told me that one. You're not going to argue with Dad, are you?"
"He did not say that," Hermione denied, if a bit dubiously. It did rather sound like something Charlus would say, actually, but then he was as reckless and protective as the next man, and quite senseless when it came to the people he loved. "Besides, Severus is my friend."
Severus, still cradling his wrist while he glowered at where his wand poked perkily out of Hermione's pocket, let out a grunt of disagreement. Regulus, much closer to him than Hermione, solved this problem by pinching closed the nostrils of Severus' prodigious nose. He avoided losing that limb only by the grace of being Severus's best friend, though Hermione thought it had been an uncomfortably close call.
James's lips crimped around the corners, his eyes growing stormy. "Your… friend?" he coughed out, as though he'd never heard the word before. "What do you mean, friend?"
"Well what do you think I mean?" she snapped, propping her hands on her hips and glaring at him. "We study together, we have conversations, occasionally he smiles and he once told me that I'm 'not entirely disagreeable company'. How else would you classify that?"
"Far too close to my sister, is how I'd classify that! I forbid you to be friends with these… these… Slytherins!" He marched over to where his sister stood, quite in shock, and wrapped his arm around hers. Together, he and Sirius lifted her up and carried her out, ignoring how she flailed and shouted with the helpful addition of a Silencing Charm. To Regulus and Severus, as a parting shot, he shouted "You stay away from my sister!"
Friday 17th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Common Room
"You're still mad."
"Yep." Hermione flipped the page in her Transfiguration book and pointedly ignored Sirius's puppy-dog eyes. The boy was ridiculously proficient at them and she knew that if she looked she'd fall victim to his sheer adorability. Hence why James was using Sirius as an ambassador rather than himself or Peter (he'd tried Remus on the first day, but thought better of that after she returned him to his dorm Confunded and sprouting a tail. The prevailing logic appeared to be that if she was willing to hex Remus then she'd have no qualms doing worse if her brother showed his face. An accurate assessment).
"He's sorry," Sirius told her, for the fourteenth time that week. He placed his hands on her knees and leaned forward, staring beseechingly up towards her eyebrows (her eyes were hidden by the book). "He's really, really sorry."
"As well he should be." Another page turn. She wasn't reading anymore but it wouldn't do to let Sirius think he'd gotten her attention. All across the common room people were surreptitiously watching the exchange; everybody knew and suffered when James was in a bad mood, so they were all rooting for him. Alice, Lily, Dor, Marley, and some of the other girls were on Hermione's side, though they as much as anyone would like Hurricane James to settle down.
Sirius Black on his knees before a woman was a rare sight, too. Hermione thought she could see Rue settled in the windowseat she'd adopted as her own (complete with name stitched into the cushion) frantically sketching the occurrence. "I'm not sorry," Sirius reminded her, as he always did. She pulled the book down a few inches to raise an eyebrow, then covered her face again before the full impact of his lovely brown eyes could hit –
Wait, brown?
She dropped the book into her lap and grabbed his chin, pulling his face closer. Yes – his eyes were brown. A rich chocolate colour, the iris taking over almost the whole whites while his pupils dilated. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she pulled back.
"What, no kiss?" Sirius pouted, rubbing his chin where her fingers had left red indents.
"What have you lot done?" She hissed in return, gesturing to his eyes. A flicker of surprise, then trepidation crossed his face, and he blinked frantically before turning his – now grey – eyes back on her.
"I don't know what you mean," he replied guardedly. She scoffed in frustration.
"Do you think I don't know what a partial Animagus transformation looks like, Sirius Black?" she whispered, leaning down so that her words couldn't be heard by anyone else. "I'm not thick."
"How would you know?" he whispered back, face fierce. "Maybe it's just a family thing."
An explanation that might have worked had she not spent the last four years by Regulus's side. His eyes had been solidly grey that whole time, except for a few blips during his Animagus training. "Take me to my brother," she commanded him. If Sirius had become an Animagus, then so had James, and likely Peter, too. She'd like to think that Remus had more sense than that but that point would be moot, too; he was too easily led for her to think anything different.
Sirius pulled himself reluctantly to his feet and offered his arm. "It's not what you think," he muttered as he pulled her in the direction of the boy's dormitory.
"So you haven't all risked your lives by becoming Animagus? That's a load off my mind," she snarked, tightening her grip on his forearm until he winced. "Honestly, what on earth possessed you to do something so idiotic?"
Something akin to pain flashed in his eyes. "It's not my place to say," he murmured.
"How convenient." They reached the door and he knocked loudly. It swung inwards under his fist, and Hermione crossed the threshold to see Remus dangling off the end of his bed, head on the floor, feet tangled in the curtains. A book hovered two inches above his face, and he used a quill to annotate parchment on the floor close-by. Hermione couldn't resist a chuckle at this, which had the unfortunate side-effect of breaking his concentration.
"Hermio-ah!" Remus yelped as he smacked into the floor, one foot swinging free while the other stayed locked in place by the scarlet upholstery. The book dropped onto his face, muffling another groan of pain, leaving his spread-eagle with his lower body hung in the air. Hermione snorted a laugh, Sirius shaking in silent agreement.
"Comfortable, mate?" he asked jovially, leaning over to lift the book. Remus made an incoherent sound that Sirius took to be an affirmative, because he let the book fall again and straightened up. "He's fine," he assured Hermione, who was sceptical. "Happens all the time. He's like a cat – we once found him suspended between the beams; he couldn't even remember how he got there, never mind how to get down."
"He's exaggerating," Remus scowled. Having managed to remove the book he was now stabbing his wand at the curtains in a hapless attempt to release himself from their confines. "It was James's curtain rails."
"Would that be your Animagus form, then?" Hermione asked politely. "A cat, like McGonagall?" Something about this triggered a bell in Hermione's mind, but she ignored it – they were too frequent to do anything else.
"Ah!" Remus's foot came suddenly free and he flopped onto his back, winded. His eyes sought out Sirius's, wide with fear. "Padfoot..?"
"She doesn't know, Moony," he soothed his friend.
"Doesn't know what?" Hermione repeated, more than a little petulantly. "Will someone perhaps fill me in?" She glanced around and let out a gusty sigh. "And where is my no-good brother?!"
"In the bathroom, thinking about Lily," Peter squeaked. Hermione's head whipped around to spot him half-hidden behind his own drapes, only one eye visible and a thatch of blonde, fly-away hair. He gave a smarmy wink, and Hermione shuddered.
"Pete!" Sirius snarled, tossing a pillow to smack him in the face. "You can't say shit like that in front of Hermione! She's his sister."
"Yes, and getting very impatient." She rolled her sleeves up. "If you'll not fetch him, then I will." With that, she marched toward the door set into the only flat section of the circular room's walls, and flung it open.
It was warm, steamy – she could hardly see two inches in front of her face, which was just as well; she had no wish to see James naked. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and bellowed "James Charlus Potter!" as loudly as she could.
"Shit!" A voice came from unnervingly closeby, and the sound of rushing water cut off. "Hermione? What are you doing in here?"
She stamped her foot mulishly, peering into the fog. "Waiting for an explanation, brother mine."
"Look-" his face came swimming out of the steam, hair slicked back. He'd wrapped himself in a ludicrously large towel the feminine way, the cloth tucked demurely inwards just below his shoulder. "-I know you're mad, but it's for the best. Snape is not the sort of bloke you want to be hanging around with, trust me. Lily says he's into all sorts of dodgy dark magic; creating some of his own, too!" He took her elbow and steered her back into the main dormitory. In the sunlight, she could see that he was wearing his unbearable 'brother knows best' face, and her palms itched to slap it. "He's a Death Eater-in-training, 'Mi," he explained slowly, his tone more than a little patronising. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted Sirius desperately making slicing motions across his neck, but James only spared him an irritated glance before going back to Hermione.
"You don't want to be involved with this stuff. Trust me."
She ripped her arm from his grasp and stepped back. "Do I not?" she asked sweetly, brushing off her robes. "Because creating the odd spell-"
"It's more than the odd spell, Hermione. Lily's shown us some of his notes – they can get really nasty."
"-doesn't mean… wait." She blinked in surprise. "Lily showed you these?"
James suddenly looked awkward, itching his shoulder nervously. "Well, not show exactly… more like… she left them in the open?"
"And you just happened to walk by, slip, and accidentally read all of it?" Disgusted, Hermione shook her head. "It's unhealthy how obsessed you are with Severus, James," she told him tiredly. "Don't you have enough to do – you know: annoying teachers, pranking Slytherins, becoming illegal animagi, being a general bloody nuisance to have around – without adding a pointless, useless waste-of-time vendetta to the list? How will you pass your OWLs when you've got such a full schedule?"
James lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Do you know, I've never thought of it that way. Don't worry, love. I make time for Snivellus."
With a cry of impotent rage, she kicked him in the shin, hard. "Back off, James! Just stop! I don't have time for your stupid games!"
"Wait," Peter said from his bed, "did she say 'becoming illegal animaguses'?"
"Yes, she did," Sirius said – in a voice so small Hermione thought he might be hoping she didn't realise he was still there.
James gathered himself at that and turned a narrow-eyed look on his friends. "What? Who told her?"
"Nobody told me, James," she spat. "I do have a brain of my own, you know. I'm not just an extension of your sodding hero complex."
"'Mi…" James winced; she was maliciously glad to have landed a hit.
"No. Sod it. I'm off." She sniffed, flouncing to the door. At the last minute, she turned back and looked James directly in the eye. "Count yourself lucky I'm not a more vindictive person, because otherwise I'd be going directly to McGonagall."
"Hermione!" Sirius gaped. Remus just whimpered; not having moved from the spot he'd fell into when she first entered the room.
She wasn't particularly proud of that parting shot, but it certainly helped vent some anger.
Monday 20th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Defence Against The Dark Arts Classroom
It was during DADA that everything fell into place for Hermione.
She'd been listening to the lecture, making notes as they drifted across the room to her from Professor Dim's mouth (Marlene had stopped learning their names after Professor Norton, heart-stoppingly handsome and unforgivably dull, second year, had broken her heart by rebuffing her advances. Holding this offence against all Defence teachers – and all men, too – she instead referred to them all as 'Professor Dim' for 'Does It Matter?', and it'd caught on), following along in her mind. It was a lecture on Dark Creatures, in which Dim briefly summarised a creature, proceeded to then forget where he'd gotten up to, and start the same section all over again. They were now stalled on Vampires, and Hermione was reading ahead.
Next up: Werewolves.
The bell that had jingled in her mind during the confrontation in her brother's bedroom had let up, but now it rang louder than ever, yet she could not decipher the puzzle. How did that – her brother's ridiculous decision to lead his friends into a dangerous, often deadly transformation – have anything to do with her Defence class?
It must, though, because she trusted her mind. Most of the time.
She knew about werewolves. There was a whole section of her mind devoted to werewolves; their habits, their packs, the poison in their bites and the long-term affects of their affliction. It was all tied up with a pretty bow – 'Outstanding' standard work, she was sure. But why..?
She turned the page and her eyes caught an image of a werewolf mid-transformation, all jerking muscles and tearing flesh. It seemed too graphic for its environs, but Hermione was mesmerised. There was something there… something…
The blackness at the back of her head lurched with a suddenness that stole her breath, absorbing her consciousness until she was in the dark entirely, white flecks in her eyes the only sign of light, and when it cleared, when her vision returned…
Well, she knew.
Monday 20th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Common Room
It followed her through the castle, a vision of blood and snarls and earth-shattering howls, so that when she finally stumbled into the common room her mind wasn't quite what it should be. The images were awful, the accompanying emotion bewildering – fear and adrenalin and trust…
Remus was settled in an armchair, looking so blissfully normal she almost wept. Her eyes lingered on the scars that criss-crossed his cheeks, the lump where his lip had healed oddly from some unknown attack – except it wasn't unknown, not anymore. She remembered him telling her he'd gotten it at school, during his first ever transformation, when he'd been in the shack. The wolf had been so scared, so confused and alone, that he'd spent the whole night beating himself against the wall; running headfirst with the hopes of escape. The change at dawn had fixed his broken nose and eye-socket but ripped the lip even further.
These memories; the ones she'd thought she'd lost forever, but it turns out had only been stored away. Safe. If they were all like this one – the terrifying, life-threatening encounter with a werewolf who had once been a teacher and trusted ally – she wasn't sure she wanted them back.
He didn't realise she was there until she knocked the book out of his hand and onto the (thankfully, empty) hearth and bundled herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling into his shoulder. He let out a little cry of surprise, but hugged her gently all the same.
"What's this for?" he asked with a thread of amusement, shifting slightly as the sensation of her tears wetting his shirt registered. "Hermione?"
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I won't tell McGonagall – I never would, I swear."
He grew rigid, his hands pausing on her back. "…what?"
"I promise," she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. There was a lot in the murky green depths – fear, hope, loneliness, trepidation. She forced a smile. "You might want to ask them to be more subtle, though. It's hard not to notice when a bloke's eyes change shape while you're looking at him. And God know what James turned into; I'm betting it's not something compact and easily explained, though. Not for James."
Realising she was still draped across his lap, she stood hurriedly. To mask her blush, she continued to blather on; "and Moony, really? It's like they're asking for trouble."
"That was Pete," Remus said blurrily, watching her with a furrowed brow. "Erm, Hermione?"
"I'd better go," she mumbled, making a show of checking her watch. "I'm meant to meet Dor in the library…" She flashed him a grin. "I skipped out of Defence to come here."
"Your brother will be so proud," Remus nodded, relaxing as he seemed to get the message that she wasn't going to press him on it. There was a glimmer of relief in his eyes that she revelled in. "Alright. I'll tell James…"
"Tell him I still think he's a git," she sniffed. "A good friend," she smiled wistfully, "but still a git."
And a git who became an Animagus before me! She shrieked on the inside as she traversed the corridors towards the library. That would not do. She changed direction at the last minute and barged into the old classroom her group had commandeered for their lessons. Clarence was in the centre of the floor, cross-legged on a mat as he did his meditations (unsupervised – silly boy). Hermione noted with envy that his hair had turned black, with a startling silver streak down the fringe.
This sight only bolstered her motivations, and she flopped down on another mat, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes.
"One…" she counted, letting herself fall into the rhythm of her breathing. "Two… Three…"
She was gone.