A/N: Hello! Welcome to chapter thirty-three! This isn't the chapter I had planned but then with me getting all excited over the new plot bunny this came up instead. Enjoy!
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-Three
Monday 20th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Abandoned Classroom
She came around to the sound of sniggering. Male sniggering, probably two of them. Maybe three. She recognised Regulus's low tone – it was still unfamiliar, his voice only having cracked the year before, but undeniably Reg in that it held ounces more class than the other. She frowned at them without opening her eyes, using the time to stretch her aching legs.
"What's so funny?" She snapped when they just kept laughing.
Fabric shifted nearby and she recognised a presence as it came into her personal space and tugged at a lock of her hair. "Nothing," Regulus said innocently. "Nothing's funny."
"Then why are you laughing?" she crossed her arms petulantly, her eyes snapping open. Regulus was knelt in front of her, a soft expression on his face as he fiddled with something on the top of her head. Behind him, Clarence was sprawled across his mat, watching them with amusement. He caught her eye and smiled mischievously.
"He's telling the truth, it's not funny." He smirked. "It's actually quite sexy." Regulus half-turned to scowl at Clarence, who hooted out another laugh. "You see? We laugh so we don't have stare, and end up provoking your fearsome protector." He gave a dramatic shiver, winking.
"Orange is a good look on you," Xavier said, and Hermione's head whipped around to see him leering playfully – or maybe playfully, you never could tell with Xavier. "I always did have a thing for gingers. Tell me, do you think the carpet- oi!"
Regulus had lunged at him, cutting off the question as they rolled around on the floor. That provoked another snort of laughter from Clarence, who watched avidly, his eyes sparkling. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
The lack of any other feminine presence in the room was palpable in that the two boys didn't bother to be civilised about it – Xavier elbowed Regulus in the stomach, yanking viciously on his lovely hair and attempting to bite his ear. In return, Regulus managed to burrow one of his long-fingered hands in the material at the back of his shirt, twisting and dragging it upwards to strangle the other boy. Praying desperately for some sort of salvation from their ridiculous games, she reached upwards to see what had them all so fascinated, yelping when her fingers made contact with something soft and twitchy.
Ears. Frantically, she dug beneath her hair for her human ones and found they were missing, having moved a few inches upwards to balance on the top of her head, half buried in her mane of hair. When it fell forward, she realised with no small amount of shock that her hair too had changed – become heavier, more bristled and a bright, fire-engine red. She yelped again, some long-buried fear triggering a fight-or-flight response in her gut that had her scrambling to her feet.
Through her haze, she saw Clarence come to stand before her, smiling lazily. "Don't worry," he drawled, curling a strand around his finger and staring at it, fascinated. "It won't last too long. You'll be back to normal before you know it." He sighed. "Red really is your colour."
She was relieved to note that her hands remained the same, even though the downy hairs on her arms had thickened and bronzed, too. "What in Hell is going on?!" she demanded, staring at Clarence.
"It's a partial change. Looks like you were further along than you thought." He shrugged languorously. "It'll be troublesome until you make the full one – trust me, I know. I woke up yesterday with a tiny black nose and a tail." Suddenly, he grinned proudly. "It was really long and fluffy, I'm quite pleased."
"Good for you," she muttered, subconsciously touching her nose. Perfectly fine, entirely human. She gave a deep sigh of relief, then drooped. Clarence caught her as she flopped, her bones suddenly feeling twice as heavy as before.
"C'mon – I'll get you back to your dorm. Those two won't be finished for a while." He shot her a wry look, tapping her head with the tip of his wand. She felt his magic spill over her; a simple glamour to disguise her changes. She was too weary to do much more than smile. "Really, you've got a hell of a guardian in Regulus. How'd you manage that?"
She shrugged, then discounted that as a bad idea when her legs went all wobbly again. "Only the Gods know," she burbled.
They managed to stagger back to Gryffindor tower just in time to catch James and his friends as they left. Remus, she noted, was not among them. James's eyes widened at the sight of her draped across Clarence, and he was none too gentle dragging her away. "What happened to her?" he demanded fiercely, clutching her to his chest hard enough that she moaned.
Clarence, a con-man at heart and therefore no stranger to getting himself out of (and into) sticky situations, threw his hands up at the first sign of a wand. "We were practising Transfiguration," he said boredly. "She overexerted herself. Nothing on me, mate."
"I'll be the judge of that," he hissed, gesturing to Sirius. "Get a wand on him. I'm taking Hermione inside."
Without waiting for a reply he hoisted Hermione into his arms and through the portrait hole, scaring two tiny first years away so that he could prop Hermione up on the settee. He covered her with a blanket and stood to go. "No," she muttered, using the last of her strength to grab his wrist.
He glanced at her in surprise – perhaps that she'd willingly touch him, or maybe that she was still awake. "You alright, 'Mi?"
"Don't you hurt him," she said, sounding as threatening as she could while being as weak as a kitten.
"Did he hurt you?" James asked, his voice hard. "Because if he did…"
"Clarence? Pfft," she scoffed derisively. "As if he could."
James's face contorted with frustration and he stroked a gentle hand over her head. A bewildered look told her that he'd felt her ears, but shook it off for later. "I don't like this," he said firmly. "All these secret classes, dodgy mates. Marlene swaggering about with cuts and bruises all over the place. Don't think I don't know you're involved in something big, Hermione."
Ice settled in her chest, stiffening her spine. "What are you going to do, James?" She was panicky now, clutching his hand to her. "Don't – don't -"
Conflicted, he winced. "Aw, 'Mi, don't look at me like that. You know if I was any sort of brother I'd tell Mum, and she'd put a stop to it."
"No," she whispered.
He paused, his head flipping to look at the door. Outside, the sky was growing dark, the full moon preparing to rise. Hermione spotted the anxiety in his face and released his hand. Biting his lip, he nodded once. "We'll talk about this in the morning," he promised. Glancing around, he nodded at a girl close-by. "Mary! Will you help 'Mi upstairs, she's suffering magical depletion. No, I don't know why. Do you need Madam Pomfrey, love? No? Okay – you get some sleep." He kissed her forehead gently and glowered at Mary – a silent threat. The older girl rolled her eyes but manhandled Hermione up the stairs anyway, with such alacrity that Hermione didn't even see James leave.
Tuesday 21st October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Transfiguration
"Your brother is terrifying," Clarence told her the next day as they attempted to transform a piglet into a guinea pig.
"Not as terrifying as I am," she replied without missing a beat, leaning over to correct Marlene's wand movements before she accidentally cast bombarda and slaughtered the poor animal. This was the problem when you were so advanced at such a young age – the easier spells became second nature to cast, and that led to accidents while you learned the harder ones. Marlene grimaced, shooting her a thumbs-up. Hermione twisted in her seat to look behind her, where Clarence sat with a Hufflepuff girl Hermione only knew vaguely. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Hermione, he was about two seconds from setting his vicious little pal on me. What do you think?"
She groaned, facing forward once again to pout at her newly rodent-ified friend. Clarence subscribed to a very particular code, in which loyalty came before all things, except perhaps his own continued existence. "He wouldn't have killed you," she said, quietly, uncertainly. Clarence scoffed.
"James wouldn't have, no. He's too honourable." He snickered at that word, as if the very idea was ludicrous. "His little friend? I take no chances."
"Sirius wouldn't hurt a fly," Hermione sniffed.
"I wasn't talking about Sirius," Clarence murmured. There was a pop and a flash of light, and when Hermione glanced across Marlene had successfully turned her pig into a stuffed toy. She stared at the results of her labours in complete bemusement.
Professor McGonagall swooped down from the front to glare. "Miss McKinnon! How on earth-"
"I have no idea," Marlene said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I just – I have no idea."
Wednesday 22nd October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Hall
"Hermione. Hermione. Hermione."
Hermione ignored her brother as he tried desperately to get her attention, folding a sandwich up in a napkin and stashing it in her bag. She grabbed an apple and stowed it away, too, before dropping a handful of nuts in her pocket. James's voice got gradually more frustrated, but she ignored him, turning and sweeping out of the hall. She couldn't avoid him forever, she knew, but she could bloody well try.
Friday 24th October 1975
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Abandoned Classroom
"Ha!" Dorcas hooted a laugh as she tripped Rue to the floor, doing a victory dance around the transfigured ring. "I did it!"
"Well done!" Kingsley beamed, applauding. "We'll make a brawler of you yet."
"Oh – oh, no, I don't want – argh!"
Rue hooked an arm around the other girl's neck and dragged her to the floor, flipping her onto her back and straddling her bottom. A rictus grin swept across her face as she smashed Dorcas's face into the padding, holding her head down. With the other, she counted the seconds on her fingers; one… two… three.
She leapt off, offering a hand up. Dorcas took it warily, a thin trickle of blood dripping from her mouth.
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "I suppose that round goes to Rue," he said in a wry voice. "For sheer brutality."
"For Merlin's sake, Dorcas! You grew up in Glasgow – how can you be a bloody pacifist!" Marlene ranted, taking Dorcas from Rue with a vicious hiss at the other girl, carrying her to the bench where they'd all left their wands. She picked one up at random and cast a hasty Episkey on whatever was broken, not halting her rant. Kingsley watched them with a fond smile before shaking his head and turning back to the ring.
"Alright," he said, his deep voice rumbling through the room, rich with authority. "Next up we have… Regulus and Hermione."
Regulus, settled next to her on the bench, winced. Hermione sighed. "Really?" she said, propping her chin on her fist. "Must we? I mean, I love you, Reg, I really do, but… well you're not really a challenge."
Regulus scowled, folding his arms. Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Not a challenge? Regulus can beat Clarence and Xavier any day."
"Yes, but not me." Hermione bit her lip, unsure if she should press her complaint further. It wasn't that Regulus wasn't an excellent fighter – he was. His movements were quick and lithe, his punches well calculated to always do the most damage in one blow. However… "Can't I fight Rida?" she asked desperately. At the other end of the room, Rida's head flicked up from her book and she gave a sly smirk.
"I would be happy with that," she said, batting her eyelashes.
Kingsley looked like he wanted to argue, but gave it up, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine," he stepped back, gesturing to the ring with a flourish. "Give it all you've got."
The fight lasted twenty-five minutes before Kingsley called a halt to their sparring, with Rida limping, a chunk of Hermione's hair caught in her rings. Hermione's ears were ringing from having Rida smack both at once, and her tailbone ached from falling one too many times. They were pretty evenly matched; Rida was taller and stronger, but loathe to get too dirty, whereas Hermione was a scrapper. They shook hands amicably, Rida still smirking whenever Hermione winced.
The rest of the group had packed up and were preparing to leave, so Hermione wandered slowly over to her corner, careful not to jolt herself. Regulus stood there, his arms folded and jaw clenched. He was quiet as she drew on her robe and tossed her bag over her shoulder, but when she went to walk past him he jerked out of whatever mood he'd been in.
"What was that about?" Regulus demanded, grabbing her arm to stall her forward progress. "You don't want to fight me, now?"
Hermione sighed and glanced around. The room was emptying, Kingsley the last one through the door. He raised an eyebrow in question and she nodded. He left, closing the door behind him. "Look – Regulus…"
"I'm not a bad fighter," he said, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly. "I'm not."
"You're a great fighter, Reg," she assured him quickly, but his eyes still narrowed.
"I've beaten you before."
"On off days." She shook her head. "Look – it's nothing to do with skill. It's about… well…" Desperately, she looked around for help, but there was nothing available. Just her and Reg. It wasn't an unusual occurrence – far from it; most of her time at Hogwarts had been spent in his company. This time, however? There was a weird current in the air, some tension she couldn't identify, and it made her uncomfortable. Looking at Regulus, she realised that most of it came from him. He was practically shivering, his every limb tightly controlled, his eyes dark. She bit her lip, and his eyes flew to it, his own pursing.
Imagination. That was simply her imagination playing tricks on her, because Regulus was her best friend and they didn't think of each other like that. Objectively, she knew that he was an attractive bloke; long, black hair, grey eyes, a lovely refined jawline and cheekbones you could use as a knife. But they just weren't like that. She'd never even considered it.
Shaking those thoughts away, she ruthlessly dragged her mind back to the subject at hand. "You're too nice," she said, finally. His eyes flared in surprise and she stifled a laugh – he couldn't really be that ignorant, could he? Or, did he just not think she'd noticed? "You pull your punches," she informed him, checking the points off on her fingers. "You kick too softly. You never put your full weight into your tackles. You're a big bloke, Reg – you could do some real damage if you wanted to."
"I don't want to," he replied, confirming her suspicion that he'd known all along. "I could hurt you."
She blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm a big girl, Regulus. We all are. You can't dance around our delicate feminine sensibilities." Hermione laughed without humour. "I don't think any of us, bar Dor, even have feminine sensibilities."
He opened his mouth to reply then abruptly shut it again, squeezing his eyes closed. "It's not about them," he said with exaggerated patience. "It's about you."
For some reason this hit her like a punch in the gut, and she was inexplicably offended. "What?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice level, "do you think I'm not strong enough?"
"Of course not!" He snapped, the leash on his temper flying off. "You're too bloody strong, always doing something or fighting someone. You're constantly covered in bruises – don't think I don't notice when you're stiff, just because you don't show it off like McKinnon doesn't mean they don't exist! You're always tutoring, or learning, or sneaking off to watch Meadowes learn to Heal so that you can learn too. Salazar, Hermione – you collapsed of Magical Core depletion on Monday night and the next day you were back in lessons! I don't want to add to that! I just can't!"
Hermione gaped stupidly, unable to think of a reply. He bore this for a few seconds then growled in the back of his throat, shoving past to leave. Even then, it wasn't a hard shove – barely a push, and for some reason that irritated her more. That in his anger he still treated her like glass.
"Oi!" She barked, darting in front of him to block the door. "You can't say something like that and just walk off."
He looked at her with an empty expression. "Why not? It's not like anything I say will stop you, is it?"
She huffed, crossing her own arms. "It's not like I have a choice," she retorted, miffed. "We're forced into these classes, and then there's the homework, and our everyday courses – what, do you think I should just stop? Because you don't like me working too much?"
"Nobody else works this hard," he said sharply, moving forward to reach for the doorhandle. He snarled as she inserted herself between him and the door again. "Move."
"No!" she leaned back against the door in a parody of relaxed insouciance. "Make me, idiot."
His eyes flashed, and the next thing she knew he had his hands wrapped around her shoulders and had deposited her out of his way. She tried not to betray her surprise – Gods, but she forgot he could do that. He was so perfectly polite, entirely noble, with his pressed robes and careful speech. It made one forget that he shared his brother's wide figure, a body that could be considered oafish on anybody else.
She blinked up at him dazedly. Her head still span a little from knocking her head on the floor, but unless she'd managed to slip outside the timestream – and it wouldn't be the first time, sadly – he'd not moved. His fingers flexed on her arms, his expression troubled, but he didn't move. She was loathe to say something and break his concentration. It seemed inappropriate.
After a long moment, he sucked a breath in through his teeth. She opened her mouth to speak – ask what he was doing, perhaps, or chastise him for lugging her about like furniture – when his mouth came down on hers and whatever she might have said was lost in a wordless moan.
He wasn't sweet, not how she'd have expected. His lips were soft but unyielding, pressing against hers, pushing them apart. He licked a line across her bottom lip that had her shivering, opening to him entirely on instinct, allowing his entry. His tongue swept in to prod at hers, once, twice, then retreating, his lips returning to press demanding demi-kisses along hers.
She wasn't his first kiss, she knew that. He'd had a brief relationship with an older girl the year before, but it hadn't lasted. She'd sat with him as he gushed about her, then later about their dates, about the magic of her kiss and then the disconnected apathy once they'd broken up. But Hermione… no boy came near her, not with the threat of James hanging over their heads. And to the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, who couldn't care less about James, there was Regulus – her constant and fiercely protective companion.
It felt right that her first kiss should be his.
Tentatively, she pressed forward against his counterweight, her first active encouragement. His hands flexed again on her arms, smoothing down to her hands and then back upwards, one wrapping around her neck to bring her closer while the other sat on her hip. Again, he swept his tongue into her mouth and she closed her eyes at the sensation, unable to do much else but suck lightly, pressing closer with her own, dragging a ragged groan from his throat. Something pleasurable and warm pooled in her stomach at the noise, wrenching a pitiful half-moan from her own throat. Of their own accord, her hands flew up to clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.
One minute they were there, drifting in a haze of building desire, and the next he'd wrenched himself back. His eyes were wild when they locked on hers, panic flitting through. Carefully, he reached up to clasp her hands in his, and pulled them back down to her sides. "I…" he stopped, swallowing thickly. A bright pink flush flooded his face and he stepped back. "Yes. I'm – sorry."
Before she even had a chance to articulate the confused "why?", he was gone, disappearing out of the door she was no longer blocking.