September 23rd, 1979 - Puddlemere - 08:00
The first day of fall brought many things to the Wizarding and Muggle world alike. It meant women typically forwent their skirts and shorts in favor of tight fitting trousers and jeans. It meant scarves and mittens were pulled from the depths of trunks and closets. It meant at Hogwarts the kitchen was preparing pastries with pumpkin and harvest grains that would stay present until spring. It also meant that the Pureblood Society's traditional Mabon festival was being held that very evening at Chateau Malfoy. Luckily for the trio who were trying to figure out a way into the very same manor, this archaic celebration was the perfect opportunity.
Sirius had been awake for nearly an hour, unable to sleep with the impending reunion with a part of his past he wished he could move past. He could hear the clock on his dresser tick idly by, something that would have normally helped lull him to sleep but now just seemed like a loud reminder they were hours away from returning to a place that held more than his fair share of awful memories.
His hands lifted from his stomach and he pressed his palms against his eyes, wishing the anxiety away, and just as stars began to form in the darkness he pulled his hands away with a heavy sigh before rolling on his side to face his sleeping girlfriend.
As he blinked the self-induced bluriness away, the image of his sleeping beauty came into view. Her full lips parted just slightly in her dream state, her wild curls a crown around her head and her pert breasts begging to be released from the confines of her white camisole and worshipped properly. Her physical beauty aside, Sirius' infatuation with his witch ran deeper than he ever thought possible. When James spoke about 'just knowing' Lily was for him, he thought it was all bullshit. Hell, he even thought at one point what he had with Moony might have been love, but it was almost foolish how wrong he had been. Because had sixteen-year-old Sirius known this consuming emotion would be what love actually felt like, he might have started searching for her earlier (although it would not have done much good, would it?).
Reaching out, the rough pads of his fingertips ran along the creamy skin of her stomach, where her camisole rode up. When she stirred due to his touch he chuckled under his breath. When they first started sleeping next to one another (before their first time shagging in Romania) she would wake up at the slightest noise and rustle outside, like a tightly wound top, ready to burst at any moment. But now she seemed at ease. It had been a long time since she had woken up from a nightmare when she was with him.
Hermione let out a soft noise in her twilight-sleep, reaching down to scratch at the tickle across her stomach, and when her hand tangled with Sirius' she let out a soft breath as her nose twitched. "It's too early, Sirius." Rolling onto her side so her back faced the wizard she blindly reached across the bed to grab the extra pillow she kept at the edge of the mattress to tuck into her arms.
"Says the witch who used to wake me up at six in the morning," he snickered, sliding across the mattress so he could drape his arm around her middle to ease her back against him. His nose nuzzled against the curls on the back of her head, nudging his way through the wild ringlets until he reached the back of her neck so he could press soft kisses against her skin. "Couldn't...sleep," he whispered through his kisses.
Hermione hummed with approval as his mouth worked its way across the sensitive skin of her neck, pausing to occasionally sample her as he worked his way across her skin. "So now I have to wake up?" she questioned, biting her bottom lip as he pressed his lips just beneath her ear.
His nose brushed against the skin behind her ear before his mouth hovered over the shell. "Yes, but I promise I'll make it worthwhile." As his warm breath caressed her, he felt her shiver involuntarily in his embrace before she purposefully arched her lower back against him so her arse ground against his pelvis.
As Sirius gasped at the brazen move, his fingers curled against her abdomen, clutching the thin camisole for a heartbeat before he slid his hand lower and lower. His fingertips dipped beneath the elastic band of her knickers, brushing through her shortly cropped curls to slip between her folds.
Hermione's eyes snapped open as she felt his fingertip rub against her clit, and when an involuntary moan left her throat before her sleepy mind could catch up to what her boyfriend was doing, her fingers curled into the plush pillow she was holding. He wanted her awake? Well this was certainly one way to wake her up! Hermione's thighs parted, allowing his hand at the apex of her thighs more room to move as she leaned back against him further. His name tumbled from her tongue, unable to help herself from praising him.
Sirius smirked against her skin, his teeth grazing the scarred skin on the cap of her shoulder as he worked his index and middle finger in deliberate circles over her clit, his hand moving in time with her rocking hips. His arm, underneath the pillow that was currently supporting both of their heads, moved under Hermione's torso, twisting ever so slightly until he could slip his hand underneath her to cup her breast through her thin top, his fingers beginning to pluck and brush against her nipple.
Hermione let go of the pillow with one hand. Reaching back she sunk her fingers into Sirius' soft hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as she vibrated beneath his hands, her body beginning to wind up. Each sweep of his fingers against her clit caused the fire burning in her belly to creep higher and higher. "Sirius," she gasped when she felt his two fingers sweep lower, pushing against her core to feel just how wet he had made her.
Campfire smoke eyes closed as he brushed his fingers against her entrance, his teeth nipping at her shoulder to prevent a hiss in pleasure when he felt how wet she had become. She was practically dripping, and when he eased his two fingers inside her, his cock throbbed in response to the way her pussy clung to his digits. "Fuck, Hermione," he groaned against her skin as he pressed his cock against her arse, grinding in time with her hips as he worked a steady rhythm into her dripping core.
Hermione's grip tightened on his hair, her toes curling against the sheets as she tried to plant her feet against the sheet the best she could from this angle so she could get more friction from his palm against her clit. "Sirius, please," she begged, her teeth biting her bottom lip to stifle a loud moan as he pressed his palm against her skin, stilling his pumping fingers to work her bundle of nerves in deliberate circles until her pleas for more spilled from her lips.
Sirius withdrew his fingers from her core, and his hand on her breast dropped to join his other in pushing her knickers down her hips quickly, before his boxers followed suit. When her camisole hit the floor and she began to turned toward him, he reached out. "No," he breathed, his fingers sliding across her shoulder blade, over her shoulder and up the side of her neck until he turned her jaw over her shoulder to he could steal a demanding kiss as he eased the back of her body against his front.
His hand ran the length of her body, sending a trail of goosebumps that followed his touch until he reached her thigh and he hooked her thigh up over his own. Carefully he lifted his own leg, which caused her own to rise until she was bared to the world on her side, her damp curls glistening in the soft morning light. The soft pink of her pussy peeked through her folds, taunting him to continue his plan.
Reaching between her body and his, Sirius grasped the base of his cock and helped sweep himself through her folds, rubbing her desire for him across his cock before he lined himself up at her entrance. As he sheathed himself inside her pussy, his lips parted from hers so he could let out a deep moan.
Hermione's cheek pressed against his chin as she rolled onto her side more, trying to provide more access for him to work his cock inside her aching core. As he began a steady rhythm, she felt herself teetering dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm. Her fingers curled, one hand into the sheet and the other against his skin as her head lulled back pleasure.
"Touch yourself," Sirius breathed against her ear, but this was not a request. No, it was a demand from a wizard intent on making sure his witch found her release before his own. He knew she was close, he could feel her pussy flutter around his cock, a telltale sign she was just a little bit away from finding her own bliss. A bliss that only he could give her.
Her head nodded, and the hand curling against the back of his neck unhooked from around his shoulders to slide down her body, her fingertips grazing over her sweat-slick skin until she reached her pussy. She brushed them across her clit, causing her moan to stutter in her throat before she dared drop them lower to feel his hard cock slide in and out of her. She nearly came undone at the feeling, so when her desire-blown eyes opened and she looked down to watch him move deep inside her, in a position where it seemed he was able to grind the head of his cock against every single spot inside her body, that made her voice hit several octaves higher than normal. "Oh Gods."
Sirius bit his bottom lip, campfire smoke eyes fixed on her face, watching her cheeks flush deeper, but her eyes couldn't deny the desire that seemed to blaze brighter when she watched him sink deep inside her petite frame. Her reaction only succeeded in making his hips snap harder against her; the hand holding her thigh up tightened its hold, his fingertips pressing bruisingly against the soft supple skin as he worked himself faster and harder inside her. Just how he knew she liked.
Hermione's head tipped back against his shoulder, no longer able to keep it lifted through the waves of pleasure as her fingers traveled back up to her clit at his instance, and as she began to rub the hardened bundle of nerves in quick tiny circles, she allowed her pleasure to consume her.
His name was a prayer on her lips, her body basking in his worship like a deity drunk on his devotion. Sirius was many things to Hermione, her boyfriend, her best friend's Godfather, and presently, the soul source of her bliss. As she rode the waves of her orgasm, she felt his own desire for her come to a head.
His pace stumbled as he followed her over the edge, his teeth biting down on her shoulder just as he spilled his seed inside her welcoming body, but his thrusting did not stop. Instead the pace moved slower and slower until he finally pushed himself inside her for a final time. His hips were tight against her arse as he pulled her body back into his. His softening cock was still buried to the hilt in her, not ready yet to give up the feeling of her silken heat fluttering around him as she came down from her high.
As his tongue and lips lavished her newly-acquired bite on her shoulder, the hand on her stomach splayed out wide, holding her tight to him as his other hand lifted to knead gently at her breast, massaging the supple breast to feel her rapid heartbeat against his fingertips. "You're…amazing," he murmured against her skin through his heavy breaths.
"Mmm..," she hummed back, not quite yet ready to form coherent words. Her hands moved down to the one one her stomach and slowly she peeled his palm away, her hips lifting forward and his softening cock slipped from inside her as she carefully rolled on the bed, twisting until they were lying stomach to stomach.
Chocolate brown eyes danced across his flushed cheeks and sweaty brow as she took in the image of his post-orgasm bliss. Moments like these she wanted to capture forever, burn them into her memory so she could never forget the way he looked, smelt and felt. And the way he made her feel. Like she was the most important thing on the planet to him. Even when she was in deep with her relationship with Ron, he'd never looked at her the way Sirius did. Like she was his everything.
Reaching up, her fingertips pushed the sweaty fringe of black back from his forehead before she trailed her index finger across a small scar just above his left eyebrow. "I love you, Sirius."
He laid still, letting her examine him like one would a precious object, his arms, having wound around her waist when she rolled to face him, stroked softly up and down the length of her spine. When her words broke his fleeting thoughts of their future, he returned the shy grin that spread across her lips. "Say it again," he requested, for he was not sure he could ever grow tired of hearing those three little words.
"I love you," she began, her voice holding a little more assertion than it had moments ago. Leaning forward, her lips pressed into his in soft sweet kiss, the promise of so much more (though frankly, this she could not promise) lingering between them. "I love you, Sirius Orion Black. With all my heart."
"I love you too, Hermione," he returned. His nose brushed against her, her words of devotion dancing across his lips, sending a feeling far better than words could describe running from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. She loved him; this was not just some hook up, some moment in time for them to spend together before they parted ways at the end of this time travel mess. She loved him, and Sirius knew in that moment that he truly, without a doubt, unequivocally loved Hermione Jean Granger. Despite the obvious complications, despite the fact that she was (at times) a walking contradiction that would drive him madder than a box of chocolate frogs. Despite all of the cards stacked against them, he loved her. And he would do whatever it took to make sure that at the end of this year, when she finally went back to 1999, that he would be waiting for her. Ready to spend the rest of their lives together. Preferably with his friends by their sides.
September 23rd, 1979 - Godric's Hollow- 19:00
Hermione pulled the rust-colored crushed-velvet cloak tighter around her shoulders. The gown Sirius had helped her purchase for this did little to combat the creeping cold of autumn settling in across West Country. Her own unease she felt about returning to Malfoy Manor grew throughout the day, and in its present state she was stuck somewhere between feeling like she might throw up her lunch or scream to release the pressure that had built up, like a kettle that had sat over a flame.
But despite her own reservations, she knew Sirius was absolutely dreading this return. The wizard had a habit of using sex as a means to distract himself from his problems, and had taken her twice since their early morning shag. Once against the shower wall while they tried to get ready for the day, and just before they Apparated to Godric's Hollow to pick up their friend. She knew he was trying to combat his rising nerves the only way he knew how, and as much as she was willing to oblige, she knew her year-long Contraceptive Potion was coming up on its renewal date and she would need to sort that out before much more could occur between them in that capacity. Besides, she could not find herself easing his fears while in the Manor because she had her own demons to confront that evening.
Which is exactly why Remus was 'Lily-sitting' tonight and James was accompanying the pair to Malfoy Manor. James had a magnetism around him that, for Sirius, exuded calm. James had been his safe space for over eight years, his first true friend, not some person his parents forced him to spend time with. He had the ability to rile Sirius up, and take him down several notches in the same hand. James was perfect for this mission as well, because for Hermione, it almost felt like old times with Harry. Short of subtle differences between the men (not just eye color, but the way James' eyes crinkled in smile, while Harry's grew larger, or the way James' nose sloped just slightly to the left from an old Quidditch injury while Harry's sloped to the right from his altercation with Draco during their sixth year; they were nearly identical, but on the same hand entirely different men), she could almost pretend it was her best friend accompanying her to a place that had plagued her dreams for the past year.
"Where the bloody fuck is he?" Sirius grumbled, his agitation growing more by the minute. He reached out, adjusting the ebony gloves on his hands, his fingers flexing against the soft fabric before he began to pace. The moment he slipped on the Pureblood-in-a-box costume special, Sirius felt near typhoon levels of dread; the creeping panic he had kept at bay took over, and he'd nearly decided to consume the remainder of his Ogden's Finest, if it weren't for the fact that Hermione would likely have made him stay back, and he was not going to allow her to walk into that Snake den without him at her side.
"He'll be here soon." Hermione glanced over her shoulder, watching as her boyfriend adjusted his black and silver cloak for what felt like the thousandth time. "...Sirius," she said softly, trying to gain his attention as he seemed to disappear further into himself.
"He's always fucking late. I told him to be on time. We can't risk being in that house past ten-"
"Sirius," her voice grew louder.
His gloved hands rose to smooth down the hair on top of his head. He had pulled back his growing locks, tying them at the base of his neck with a burgundy ribbon that Hermione had magicked to match his button-down perfectly. He was completely oblivious to the witch's attempts to gain his attention. "-That's when demasking begins and I swear to fucking Merlin, if Prongs-"
"SIRIUS!" she shouted.
Sirius, snapped out of his tirade on the various ways he was going to jinx his friend, and looked over to Hermione with raised brows. "What?!"
"Come here." Her hand was extended to him, the billowing sleeve of her cloak sliding up her forearm to rest in the crook of her elbow. When he crossed the small dirt path to slip his hand into hers, she pulled him to her body. Her arms wound around his waist in a tight hug, her head resting against his chest, just underneath chin. "Are you going to be able to pull it together? I didn't realise how much this would affect you."
Sirius stiffened under her hug for half a second, his walls already so high that her affection confused him, but as her familiar scent washed through his senses, his arms moved around her. His fingers curled against her cloak as he pulled her tight, leaning down so he could brush his nose against the crown of her head. She had straightened her curls with some potion Lily had picked up from the Alley, and although he didn't mind the pin-straight hair, it definitely was not the same as the wild mane he had grown so fond of. "Yeah...just… not really looking forward to this."
That was the understatement of the century, based on his behavior leading up to this evening. Leaning up on the tips of her toes, she pressed her rouged lips against his in a chaste, yet sweet, kiss. "I don't think anyone is actually excited to go…aside from the actual attendees."
"Oh I don't know about that," came the familiar drawl of James Potter from behind the embracing couple. The crunching sound of his approach was muffled by a richly colored orange cloak. Pushing the cloak from his shoulders, he revealed an outfit that Hermione could only describe as a mix between 1700's Muggle and Wizarding French aristocracy. He wore cropped brown trousers with long silken socks pulled up to the knee with loafers with a slight heel. His cream colored shirt came adorned with more ruffles billowing from the center than any dress she had seen at the Yule Ball. Around his neck he wore a brown and orange silk scarf and his black unruly hair had been left wild. Nothing could tame the legend that was the Potter head, but in the middle of the untamable locks were two large antlers sprouting up tall and proud. Each set held strings of harvest flowers and red and orange colored leafs. "I look pretty fucking fantastic. I am real keen to show this off."
"Oh dear lord," Hermione gulped as she absorbed James' outfit. Parting from Sirius' hold, her hand went to her lips as James did a little spin to show off the complete ensemble for his friends.
Sirius' eyes went wide with shock at first, seemingly unable to process the spectacle before him, and slowly, the shock began to shift to almost rage. His nostrils flared as he lifted his hand to rub his fingers against his brow in astonishment. "Prongs, what the bloody fuck do you think you're wearing?"
"Uh… an amazing outfit," he responded, although his pragmatic tone was obviously lost on both Hermione and Sirius' senses of fashion.
"Oh James, no," Hermione laughed, trying her best to keep the laughter light in her voice. She knew Sirius was already having issues with the evening. He did not need to deal with his friend's inability to remain practical about their dress code for this mission.
"We are supposed to be low-key, Prongs! Remember, in and out without being noticed. Hence the fucking masks!" Sirius snapped, lifting the grim mask that had been tucked in the inside of his cloak to wave it towards his friend.
"What on earth are you talking about, Padfoot? I'll blend in," James scoffed, dramatically tossing his cloak back over his shoulder. "I've seen your family members wear far more extravi-"
"The bloody fuck you will! How many times have you seen Purebloods sprout fucking antlers at parties?" Sirius interrupted, campfire smoke eyes shooting daggers at Hermione who was falling into a fit of obvious laughter at the pair's row. "Take them off. Take them off immediately or I will."
James' smile split across his face, as if unable to contain his excitement any longer. "Take them off? They aren't a prop, Sirius. I used Anteoculatia on myself. They'll be here for at least several hours, if not days."
Sirius lifted his eyes from the ground, his jaw setting as he gulped down his rising urge to lunge across the path and force some sense into his friend with his fist. "Hermione, you brought your purse right?" he questioned, his voice oddly level for the amount of anxiety running through his veins.
"Yeah?" the witch responded, lifting her left hand to expose the small beaded bag that was attached to the inside of her cloak.
"Good. You've got a file in there? I need to de-horn James. Mind holding him down?"
Sirius began to advance towards James, his knuckles cracking in a way that made him look more menacing than on the verge of a breakdown. Hermione's hand moved to the wand pocket in her robes, withdrawing her vinewood, and she quickly leveled it at the twin antler sprouting from James' head. "Evanesco."
A swirl of purple smoke erupted from the tip of her wand and shot across the space between her and James. It whirled around the antlers, traveling from the tips to base, and as the smoke trailed down the antlers they began to disappear, until the foliage and flowers that had been draped across them fell to the ground, scattering around the wizard's feet.
James' hand went up, patting the top of his head as the purple smoke drifted into the soft autumn breeze and his brow furrowed. "Aw, come on Hermione!" he whined.
"You should be thanking me, James," she returned as she stuffed her wand back into its pocket. "Sirius might have actually killed you had I not stepped in."
When Sirius, who visibly relaxed with the antlers vanished from the top of his friends head, made no move to correct her accusation, James lifted his hand to his chest in mock shock. "Ouch...okay, okay! I see how it is, Padfoot. I'll keep this in mind for next time."
"Next time what?" Sirius grumbled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his trousers as he lifted a single brow at his friend quizzically.
"Next time you need my help, obviously," James explained.
"Alright, that's enough!" Hermione interrupted before Sirius could travel down a path she was certain James was not prepared to deal with tonight. Reaching out, Hermione's right hand curled around Sirius' forearm and she held out her left to James. "We can discuss when it is appropriate to wear antlers to formal gatherings, and when it is absurd, later. Perhaps over a celebratory drink once we leave the Malfoys' with diary in tow, sound good?" Glancing between the men, she did not wait for a reply before continuing. "Great! Now, Sirius, would you do the honors of Side-Alonging us to the Manor or would you like me to?"
"You've been there before?" James questioned, surprised by her candid revelation. Apparition only works if you have traveled there before; this was one of the first rules that the trainers pressed when you studied for the exam during 7th year.
"Later, James… We can discuss all the nuances of my past later," she quipped, glancing to the wizard before she looked down at the toes of her boots. And of course by later, she meant much later. Like possibly twenty years in the future. Explaining why a Muggleborn was familiar enough with one of the most prominent Pureblood supremacist families in Wizarding England to Apparate there was not something that could easily be explained without divulging details of her past that could ruin everything. "You know what, I'll do it. Yeah? Great. Hold on."
Before Sirius could voice his own curiosity regarding why she knew the location of the Malfoy Estate, she tightened her grip on each wizard, pulling them closer until the world went black. Apparition was not her favorite method of transportation, but it was the most convenient, and certainly the quickest. She felt the three of them travel through the space between Godric's Hollow and Wiltshire. With both homesteads residing in West End, it only took them mere seconds to land outside the gates of Malfoy Manor.
She had purposefully chosen to land them down the street, providing plenty of space to don their masks and prepare themselves to walk down the Manor walkway. Most partygoers would not appear this far from the gates, for it was far too inconvenient to walk on the gravel in heels and in nice loafers, which meant their privacy could almost be insured.
The thoughts of questioning why Hermione would know the location of his cousin's house slipped from his mind the moment they landed. The looming manor in the distance instantly dried his mouth and caused his stomach to clench. He'd spent many nights forced to endure the presence of proper Pureblood society in his youth, tormented by a cousin six years his elder and his pack of cronies who thought it great sport to practice magic on Sirius and Regulus both. He'd ran through the halls in fear, hiding from his drunken parents, who were never pleased with him, so he would not have to face their wrath when other relatives spoke of how their eldest son was such a disappointment to their Pureblood society. The Manor, albeit a beautiful home, was quite possibly the ugliest thing in existence. Even Grimmauld Place held a few memories of happier times, while this estate, this foreboding Manor that loomed across the fields around it, did little to stir anything inside him beyond a crushing vortex.
Hermione wasted no time in placing her mask on her face, using the intricate details of the autumn flowers that were covering the half-face mask to hide the rising dread she too felt. Her nimble fingers tied the ribbon of the mask behind her head, careful to activate the enchantment on the mask that made a matching crown of autumn flowers, twigs and leaves circle her head. Glancing over to Sirius, who had yet to move to put his own mask in place, she reached out. Sliding her hand into his cloak, she unhooked the mask he had chosen and carefully placed it on his face, pulling the wizard's attention away from the manor. "In and out, right?" she repeated the promise they made to one another earlier as she carefully tied the ribbon behind his head.
"Right," he repeated, campfire smoke eyes dancing across what little he could see of her face. She looked entirely different; the straight hair, the red lips and of course, the mask. But her eyes remained unchanged, and in this moment he was eternally thankful to have those big beautiful brown eyes looking back at him. Lifting his hand, he ran his fingers across the petals of a small sunflower and a soft smile began to appear. "You look beautiful."
Hermione smirked, playfully tapping the snout of his grim mask before she stepped back from him, straightening her cloak. "You don't look so bad yourself."
"And I look fucking brilliant," James commented from behind the pair. He had chosen the mask of a stag, except without his antlers he looked more like a doe. The dark browns and amber fur made the hazel in his eyes shine beautifully, and thankfully the elongated snout helped mask the trademark Potter smile that would have given away who he was nearly instantly.
Sirius laughed at James as he did a flamboyant twirl to show off his choice of attire. "You're supposed to be the modest one, Prongs. You are married."
"I'm married, not dead! I can't help it if my appeal cannot be contained," James defended, reaching out to hook his arm through Sirius' as the wizard approached.
The trio, once fully masked, began the small journey towards the Manor gates. The closer they got to the Manor, the sound of music and conversation grew louder. Lining the path from the gates to the front door of the Malfoy family home were torches, the soft glow of their flames illuminating the walkway, and nestled between each set were bushels of harvest goods: apples so vibrantly red they almost looked faked, green pears, pomegranates nearly bursting with their juices, pumpkins, squash, corn and grains of nearly all varieties. There was enough produce to feed an army, but it was clear that this food was not intended to be consumed.
It was a show of wealth, a display of just how much better the Malfoy family was than everyone else. How they could afford to purchase and inevitably waste bushels and bushels of food. The thought made Hermione's skin crawl as made her way down the paved walkway, following behind a couple who had Apparated before them just before the gates.
The front door was held open by a House Elf, who did their best to appear as regal as possible in what appeared to be flour sack. Upon entering the home, they were directed towards the ballroom, their path lined with plush emerald-colored carpet. Sirius and James walked in front of Hermione, all silent as the grave as they took in the atmosphere of the celebration at hand.
The were more people than Hermione could count, but if she had to guess at least one hundred already congregated in the decorated ballroom, and there seemed to be no sign of attendees to the welcoming of Harvest stopping. The ballroom was positively dripping with fall decor. Amber, red and forest green tones were draped along the tables that line the walls for guests to use. The string quartet played a melancholy tune but it seemed none of the guests noticed.
Although James' antlers would have stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of people, the extravagance of his costume seemed right up the alley of several wizards who wandered the room. Hermione stayed two steps behind Sirius and James, letting them take the lead of guiding them into the thick of the party.
James, seemingly not at all bothered to be surrounded by people who were almost certainly Death Eaters, or at the very least associated with them, took the small bites off trays of passing house elvess, happy to snack his way across the room. "Oh Blimey, try this Pads. Fig and goat cheese," he mumbled around a mouthful of the sticky fruit concoction before snatching three more off of the tray to dish out to his friends.
"No thanks," Sirius grumbled, lifting his hand to wave off the offering of the snack. Although he had not eaten a lot today, he felt far from hungry. He couldn't be certain, but this home, brimming with old world ideology and hate, seemed to kill any sort of emotion beyond dread inside him. It was as if he was in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors sucking all thoughts of happiness from the room.
James nodded, glancing over his shoulder to Hermione as he lifted his hand clutching the figs in a silent offering, and when she shook her head no he began to pop them into his mouth, one by one. As a house elf balancing a tray in each hand holding chalices full of wine began to make his way across their path, James reached out and plucked three of the heavy stemware from the tray. He pressed one into Sirius' hand before turning to do the same to Hermione, not taking no for an answer. If they did not start looking like they were at least pretending to enjoy the party, then they would surely stand out amongst the crowd. Besides, if he got a free meal on Malfoy's dime AND found whatever this horcrux thing was, well then that certainly would not have been a bad night.
Hermione allowed James to tug her forward until she slipped between Sirius and him, falling into place between them as the group settled against the far wall of the ballroom, just beyond the string quartet. Their vantage point of the room allowed them to see all incoming guests and the rest of the party mingling around the room. They were also closest to the only other exit from the room, the one that the house elves were using to access the back hall towards the kitchens.
"Do you see him?" Hermione spoke up, lifting her glass to take a drink of the crimson wine James had procured from the tray. She had to admit, it was absolutely divine. Not elven, no this was similar to a Muggle reserve, rich, bold and almost smokey. Something from Malfoy's private reserve if she had to guess, something else he could show off to his guests.
"The Peacock Prince?" James confirmed and when Hermione snorted into her chalice in response, his wicked smile grew. He only needed the slightest bit of encouragement to continue, as seemed to be a Marauder trait. "I have not, but it shouldn't be too hard to find him. Just look for a blonde spec in the sea of fall colors and you'll likely find him."
"He's probably floating around showing off Cissy," Sirius shrugged, lifting his own glass to drain the contents before setting it on the table next to them with a louder thud than intended.
"Showing off?" Hermione glanced to Sirius out of the corner of her eyes, watching him adjust his mask on his face nervously as he surveyed the room.
"It's what Lucius does best. Dress up his arm candy and show off his prize to his supposed friends," James explained, leaning back against the table and crossing his legs at the ankles. "He did it with Phaedra Avery before his engagement to Narcissa. It was bloody awful, the way he dragged her around the school on his arm, eager to show off his prize like a spoilt little boy."
"Well that's exactly what he is," Sirius scoffed, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he surveyed the room. "No one's ever had the backbone to tell him no with the exception of Papa Abraxas, but now that the old bastard's croaked-"
"May the fire-breathing bastard enjoy his stint in hell." James lifted his chalice in a mock toast to the recently deceased Malfoy patriarch.
"-There is nothing to keep Lucius from acting like a pompous arse full-time," Sirius explained, glancing over to Hermione who was surveying the crowd, waiting for the perfect moment for the three of them to slip away unnoticed. When her eyes widened with the unmistakable quiver of fear, before her attention was purposefully diverted across the ballroom, Sirius frowned. Straightening his spine, he looked towards the side of the room she had just been looking at and his mouth almost instantly went dry.
Across the room, to the right of the quartet, stood a group of people he was all too familiar with. Even dressed in costume he would recognize the high Victorian collar of his mother's dress anywhere. Next to her stood an aging wizard, his father, who looked as if he had aged ten plus years since the last time he had laid eyes on him. He clutched a cane in his left hand, leaning heavily upon the golden staff as if without it he would simply crumble to the floor. His once thick, lustrous black hair (the very same both of his sons inherited) was more gray than black now, and even behind the raven mask Sirius could see he had far more wrinkles than a man of his age should possess.
Beside his father stood his brother. He had only been fourteen when Sirius had left home, and fifteen when he had seen his brother last. He stood at least two heads taller than he remembered, which should be expected as he was now seventeen and a 'man' in wizarding society, but it still shocked to see him look so grown. The youngest Black donned a black velvet domino mask, making it quite easy to distinguish who was behind it, even if it weren't for piercing silver eyes that he had inherited from their mother. As young children they often said the two Black boys looked similar, but now, on the cusp of true adulthood, the boys could not look more different.
Sirius watched as Walburga and Orion spoke in hushed tones over the soft string music, gesturing proudly to Regulus who had yet to open his mouth to add to whatever conversation his family was having with the young Lestrange couple. Bellatrix, whose wild curls seemed less elegant than his girlfriend's and more 'crazy banshee', wore no mask, nor did her husband. Never the pair to play by the rules, the newlyweds sipped on glasses of what Sirius assumed was Firewhiskey, as Bellatrix had never had a taste for wine.
Bellatrix and Rodolphus both seemed to hang on Walburga's word, and when the Black maritarch nudged her youngest son and gestured to his left arm,Regulus pulled up the sleeve of his button-down to reveal a black brand that literally stole the air from Sirius' lungs. The Dark Mark. His brother had taken the Dark Mark. And his parents, instead of looking horrified at the idea their son had joined something that almost certainly guaranteed their youngest was facing danger, beamed with pride; which only seemed to brighten when Bellatrix and Rodolphus lifted the sleeves on their own attire to expose a matching set.
"I'm going to fucking kill him," Sirius growled, his fists clenching at his sides so tight his knuckles were beginning to whiten. His eyes narrowed on his family, feeling no sense of loyalty to the people who shared his last name as he watched them across the ballroom. Rage, revulsion, and loathing. He hated his parents, for more than just his upbringing. He hated them for their blood prejudice. For knowing they would dismiss someone as kind and beautiful as Hermione just because her parents were Muggles. They would discount her cleverness, and accuse her of stealing magic. He hated them for doting upon Regulus, turning the once wide-eyed little boy, so full of innocence and kindness, into some sort of monster. He hated them all. "He took the fucking Mark!"
James looked up from where he had managed to gather a small plate of hors d'oeuvres from the house elves as they made their way through the swinging double doors their table was beside. Just as Sirius' words began to process, his brow knitted quizzically until he looked across the ballroom to where Sirius' gaze was fixed. "Oh shit."
James lunged forward, his fingers curling around the collar of Sirius' button-down as the wizard began to advance, yanking him back as his other hand went to his friend's shoulder. "Hermione, it doesn't matter where Malfoy is, we need to leave the room," he told the witch as he began to haul a struggling Sirius back. "Now!"
Hermione followed slowly behind the pair, her cloak billowing behind her with each hurried step as James and her both ushered the struggling wizard from the ballroom, and just as James and Sirius made it through the swinging door she allowed herself to glanced over her shoulder towards where she knew Bellatrix and his family stood. The commotion had not gone unnoticed by attendees of the Malfoys' Mabon party, most of whom were whispering over their drinks, and when her eyes met the cruel gaze of the woman who had tormented her dreams for the past twelve months, her skin began to crawl. Hermione had to remind herself that the witch was not yet familiar with her and physically fight the urge to run from the room in terror.
Gulping down the nausea that was beginning to rise, Hermione looked past the vengeful witch's shoulder to see Regulus hastily tug the cuff of his sleeve down to hide his Mark, his hand curling over the spot she knew Voldemort branded his followers, and a look she could only describe as regret was washed so plainly over his face that if one was truly looking they would have been able to recognise it instantly. Unfortunately, now was not the time to try and decipher the youngest Black's feelings regarding his Death Eater status.
As she fled the room, out of the corner of her eye she could see a couple enter from the main entrance to the ballroom. They were dressed from head to toe in brilliant white and silver clothing, looking to find who had caused their guests to begin whispering discontent.
Author's Note:
Beginning next week I will be updating this fic ever Wednesday for the foreseeable future. Thank you for sticking with me this far and let me know what you think! I cherish every one of your reviews.
A couple people have asked why Hermione won't just break the Time Turner and never go back, and the simple answer is that it would completely and utterly fuck up her past. Without going into great detail (which I could ramble on this subject for a while, just ask my alpha and beta), that is the most simple answer I can give you. She is already risking a lot with staying 1 year in the past.
As a quick disclaim for anyone out there reading this who might be Pagan (or who is genuinely curious) please know that the Malfoy's celebration of Mabon (or Autumnal equinox) intends zero disrespect. I am seeing their celebration of the holiday similar to how many non-Christian's celebrate Christmas in December. For them is is entirely a power play to up their family status among the pureblood society. The "old Gods" are still followed loosely by Pureblood's in my head, and this, Pagan celebrations are 100% present in the Wizarding World. I have tried to keep the honor of the harvest present during this scene. Hopfully no one is offended. :)