Chapter Eleven
Sunday morning, after her rather memorable birthday gift from Sirius, did not go quite as Hermione expected. The owl at the window of Sirius' bedroom so very bright and early was the start of it. She didn't bother with thinking on how it had only been one week since she'd been in her world. How over the course of only six days, she'd managed to become so thoroughly invested in her relationships with men she'd never have even considered in this light back home.
Well . . . maybe Sirius. If he'd not fallen through the Veil and she'd had the chance to grow up a bit while he was still in her life.
She did have the blissful view of Sirius Black climbing out of bed to stroll across the room, bare as the day he was born, and retrieve the message from their visitor.
Kreacher popped in and she scrambled to make sure her own naked form was adequately covered. Not that it seemed to faze the elf at all that his master stood nude at the wide-open window, or that there was a Muggle-born witch in his Master's bed, but then she had to remind herself her 'kind' were treated differently in this world. She was having trouble adjusting to this alternate Kreacher who didn't seem to mind her.
"Oh," she started, yet then fell silent, surprised that he wasn't more . . . abashed, she supposed, but then this was probably not a new scenario for Sirius and, well, at least a version of herself.
Though his grumpiness hadn't changed much, the grizzled creature did nod when she greeted him—notably without spewing any vitriol—before carting a silver tea service over to the bedside and vanishing again. Since it was clear they would not be getting back to sleep any time soon, if the thoughtful humming sound Sirius was making as he read the missive was anything to go by, Hermione scooted toward the service and started fixing her coffee.
"That's not a happy sound," she observed before blowing gently over the rim of her mug and taking a careful sip.
"Not not-happy, little love, simply . . . ." He sighed as he turned on his heel and strode back to the bed, his gaze still on the penned words before him. "Well, a bit bizarre. And perhaps strangely timed. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear they'd both gone as long as they could before they decided—"
Hermione became aware that Sirius' words had simply dropped off. Alarmed, her attention shot to his face. The smirk on his lips was full of mischief and self-congratulation. He'd clearly stopped talking the moment he realized her rapt gaze had been fixed rather far south of his face.
"You managed to remember where my eyes are. Well done!"
Uttering a short, playfully scandalized gasp—which was a very good trick, considering how much they'd gotten up to last night that hadn't scandalized her—she managed to pull herself together in time to answer with some measure of dignity. Her expression sobering, she blinked a few times in rapid succession as she said, "A woman can hardly be faulted for realizing your eyes aren't the only part of you worthy of being gawked at."
He chuckled, a warm, wistful sound, before sighing. "Oh, how I'd love to laze about all day and let you tell me more about myself, but apparently you and I weren't the only ones occupied last night. Only difference is our night sounds like it was much more fun."
Her brow furrowed and she took another sip of coffee and then set down her mug. "What are you talking about?"
Turning where he sat, he lay back and rested his head on her thigh. "Here. Read for yourself." He held up the letter he'd accepted from the owl.
Taking the creased parchment page, she arched a brow. Severus' handwriting—she still never quite grasped how Harry'd never realized that blasted potions book had belonged to Professor Snape, the penmanship hadn't changed. The message was terse, somewhat wearily explanatory, perhaps even a little snide.
Not unlike the man who'd written it.
Clearing her throat, she reread, this time aloud.
"Sirius,
It will be Sunday morning by the time you receive this. I trust you've finished pawing at our witch and have permitted her to get at least some rest. While you were busy being perfectly useless, Lucius and I found something whilst exploring the tunnels in your truthfully peaceful absence. Return to Hogwarts without delay.
Severus."
She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and dropped the letter on the tea service tray. "I suppose it'd be too much to ask for a world in which Sirius Black and Severus Snape actually get along."
Again, he laughed. "This is us getting along. You know, we actually tried to not be nasty to each other once."
Hermione ducked her chin to her chest, meeting his gaze between her breasts. "And how did that go?"
Sirius shrugged. "We made it all of a week before we ended up dueling right in the middle of the Front Hall. Landed both of us in the very disgruntled care of Lucius and Poppy for about two days. Trust me, we've learned from experience. A world wherein Severus and I snipe at each other is the peaceful alternative."
"Okay, well, we should eat and be on our way, then." She made a move to push Sirius into sitting up. He proved reluctant, suddenly pretending he was snoozing deeply. Groaning, she braced her hands under his shoulders and pushed again.
She was caught off-guard then as he shot up and turned. Throwing her back on the bed, he loomed over her, the grin that curved his lips as wicked as it was playful.
"Sirius, we have to get going"
"Oh, I know. Don't plan on taking all day." While he spoke, he parted her legs. Grasping her ankles in firm but gentle fingers, he tugged her along the mattress as he shifted backward on his knees. "I was quite content to bounce up from bed and start getting dressed. Then you mentioned eating, and I thought . . . 'what a splendid idea.'"
Hermione's eyes shot wide, but whatever she might've said next was lost to them both, a sharp, delighted gasp tearing from her lips instead as he bought his mouth to her, teasing and tasting.
Her cheeks were burning—she was certain they must've leapt far beyond red and gone straight to some feverish, sickly shade of purple—as Lucius and Severus greeted them in the otherwise empty front hall. To say they were a bit later than they should've been for merely traveling to Hogwarts from Grimmauld Place was a wild understatement.
"What part of 'without delay' did you fail to comprehend, Sirius?" Severus asked, though he didn't look at the Black heir, his gaze instead traveling over 'their witch,' as though he'd expected her to have sprouted horns and a pointy tail after a night left alone in Sirius' company.
She only sighed and shook her head, aware the commentary so easily read in his tone and expression was actually about his feelings toward Sirius and not to do with her, at all. Still, she was hardly an angel, now was she? Either version of her.
"Sorry, seems I had a bit more perfect uselessness in my system than originally believed."
"Oh, of that I've no doubt." Severus pivoted on his heel in quick, pointed movement and started leading them down the staircase toward the dungeons—and the tunnels below. "I fear if your uselessness ever dried up, there'd be nothing left of you."
She could only gape at the two jet-haired wizards as Sirius fell into step half a pace behind Severus. "Ah, Severus," he said with mock sincerity, "fearing for me? Nonsense! I make an effort to live down to your expectations of me!"
Lucius folded his lips on a snicker as he bent his elbow and offered it to Hermione.
"They really are always like this, aren't they?" she inquired in a hushed voice as she accepted, looping her hand through the crook of his arm.
Nodding, Lucius started walking along side her in Sirius and Severus' snarky, barbed wake. "Oh, right, this is still new to you," he answered, his own words equally low. "Now that we better understand your predicament, it's led me to wonder something entirely new about their dynamic."
Brow furrowing, she looked up into his handsome face—now familiar to her for such a wonderfully and wholly different reason than it had been a week ago. "What's that?"
He ducked closer, murmuring in her ear as they moved along. "If there isn't some far flung universe out there where they might be lovers."
A shocked laugh bubbled out of her, her free hand shooting up to cover her mouth before either of the men walking ahead of them could overhear and ask what she was giggling about.
The tunnels unnerved her. Even with Lucius beside her, and Sirius and Severus leading the way. There was something about this place that made her feel seen, as though gazes from the shadows weighed upon her with every step. The sensation of being visible in so naturally guarded and secret a place was just jarring enough to set one's nerves on edge. While, yes, the idea of hidden, long-forgotten magical artefacts was wildly appealing and curiosity-provoking, she really couldn't imagine that any version of herself in any universe had been fool enough to come down here alone.
It wasn't a matter of cowardice, it was a matter of practicality. The place was dark, and while it seemed stable, she could easily imagine it wouldn't take much for some rocks to shake loose from the ceiling and pose a great danger to anyone in the vicinity. Having someone with you increased the chances of one person being able to get help if a dire situation arose. There was no way that other her had traversed this tunnel on her own as a simple matter of safety.
Unless she felt she hadn't a choice. Were that the case, she hadn't been followed; she'd been running away.
Hermione must've stalled a step when that thought struck, because Lucius paused beside her.
"What's wrong?" He tugged her gently back into pace.
"Hmm? Nothing, sorry. I was just thinking how unlikely it seems that my other self would've come down here alone, is all. I mean, the other me wasn't an idiot, was she?"
Severus' voice echoed back to them. "Not remotely."
She shrugged and nodded. "Exactly."
"She was lured down here, or she wanted to show someone something."
Sirius' observation snagged in her brain. "Would she really have done that without telling any of you?"
All four of them halted, then, Sirius and Severus turning back to face Hermione and Lucius. The three wizards looked around at each other in the collective light of their illuminated wands.
"She would," Severus said without hesitation. Lucius and Sirius both began voicing protests, but the DADA professor shook his head as he continued, his tone just sharp enough to override their words. "If she felt she was protecting that person, then yes. She would—in that circumstance—have keep silent about it."
Well . . . okay, perhaps that part did sound like something any Hermione in any reality would do, at least in this Hermione's opinion. Slightly tragic that she'd been hurt and left down here by the very same person she'd kept quiet to protect. Unless . . . .
"What if they weren't the ones she was trying to protect by not telling any of you?"
With a nod and a lift of his brows, Severus dropped his gaze to the ground a moment as he said, "That's also entirely possible."
The notion sent an icy stone into the pit of Hermione's stomach. These men were powerful wizards, each in their own right. What, or whom, could she have believed she was protecting them from?
Lucius made a short sound of impatience and jutted his chin along the tunnel. "Until we know more, this is all nothing but baseless speculation; we should keep moving. It'll only be a few more hours before everyone else returns from their weekend."
Hermione wondered—silently, to save the trouble of Sirius getting himself in trouble with the other two by laughing as he pondered possibilities—what they could be doing down here that a few hours seemed as though it might not be enough time?
She thought the same question repeatedly in the silence that followed as the resumed walking and moved further along the tunnel.
And then they came to the door in the side wall.
"Does this seem familiar at all?"
Her eyes wide and mystified, she shook her head in answer to Severus' question.
"And so . . . you two just went inside some mysterious room with who knew what could be behind the door and without anyone knowing where you were?"
Lucius pursed his lips and Severus' brows pinched together.
Sirius made a tsking sound and nodded. "Right. And you two treat me like I'm the dumbest out of the three of us."
"Oh, that's still not a point up for debate," the blonde wizard responded, prompting Severus to give a nod of his own, a glimmer that was equal parts knowing and withering showing in his spell-scarred eyes.
"Gentleman," Hermione all but snapped, bringing their collective attention to her. "Can we please get on with this?"
With no further interruption, and no grandiose attempts at presenting their find, Severus opened the door and led the group inside.
Upon entering the small, dungeon-like study room, her heart leapt even as it seemed to ice over. It thudded cold, yet strangely light and happy against her ribcage at the bounty of mysterious tomes lining the shelves in the far wall. How odd to feel joy and trepidation in equal measure from the same source.
"When we found this place last night," Severus murmured, his voice carrying easily through the cramped earthen room as she walked up to give the spines closer inspection, "it was evident someone had been here recently."
"But possibly not for the last week," Lucius tacked on. "We don't know if that's because the person using it was spooked by what happened to you, if they were responsible for what happened to you and did not want to risk getting caught down here, or—"
"Or if it was me," she finished for him, painfully aware they were all thinking it. She didn't even bother emphasizing that she meant the 'other' her. She didn't need to. "What if this was what I was being followed 'to'?"
"Again, speculations for when we have more information." Lucius pulled a small, empty sack from the pocket of his robes. "And as we don't know who was using this room, or what they were doing here, we're going to gather these up and research the bloody hell out of every single one until we find something that might make this all make sense."
Hermione watched as the wizards began delicately removing the ancient books with waves of their wands, shrinking them down, and directing them into the sack. "If . . . if the person who was using this room wasn't me, they might come back. What're they to think if the books are suddenly missing?"
"I wouldn't concern myself with that, were I you, darling," Severus answered, only minimally distracted by the task.
"Yes." Lucius nodded, clearly the only one privy to Sev's plan. "It seems this room is about to be another unfortunate casualty of a cave-in."
"Right after we've gotten every book safely tucked away and made certain we haven't missed any prospective clues that might've been left behind. Dreadful luck, that sort of timing, wouldn't you agree?"
Hermione had to admit it was brilliant. And she did relish just a little the idea that whoever had been using this room—again, supposing she was not the whoever in question—might get a healthy dose of fear in finding their precious research gone in so final, and natural-seeming, a way.
The time and effort to excavate the caved in room in hopes of finding any surviving books would be too extreme. They'd never be able to risk it without their absence being noticed.
Once her wizards—she did secretly adore thinking of these three that way—had finished with the task, and further inspection of the room turned up nothing of value, they filed back out into the tunnel. Her wand's lumos charm was the only thing providing them light now as Sirius, Lucius, and Severus dispelled theirs in preparation.
Again she only observed, feeling a bit disoriented, while the three of them, working carefully so as to not create a real cave-in here in what she was starting to think of as 'the tunnel proper,' dislodged earth and stone from the walls and ceiling to fill the room. Sirius seemed downright gleeful as he handled setting the door askew on its hinges, giving the appearance that it had been rent open forcefully by the debris.
However . . . .
She didn't know if it was the place, or the falling rocks, or that returning eerie feeling of being watched from dark spaces were no one could possibly be. Whatever the source, a sense of what nearly seemed déjà vu settled over her.
"I was further along," she said, the words tumbling from her lips in a numb whisper.
Severus was in front of her in a blink, his long, pale fingers delicate as they grasped her shoulders. "You remember?"
Hermione stared up into his new-yet-familiar eyes. "Only . . . only a little. I think I glimpsed something after your Hermione and I switched places. It might've been what she came down here for."
"The emblem you thought you saw?" Sirius prompted.
She nodded. "But . . . ." Without finishing whatever she'd been about to say, she turned and started along the tunnel, trying to remember as she went.
Their footfalls echoed behind her and she took comfort in not being down here alone. Severus was following so near at her back she could almost feel the warmth of his skin through their clothes.
Her current state, however, kept at bay the sweet shiver that threatened to dance across her skin at his closeness.
Finally, she came to a halt, her movements appearing somewhat mechanical—automatic—as she dug the fingers of her free hand into a crevice in the tunnel wall. They weren't even nearly at the end, or at an intersection, but they were past the place where she'd been found, which could easily mean this is the exact spot she'd been running from. This was all starting to line up in a very unsettling fashion.
Had she been followed down here, or had she been caught leaving?
"I think I was trying to hide something," she said as she felt the cool, smooth metal beneath her fingertips. "Though, I've no idea what it is, or why I would've come all the way down here to hide it."
Gingerly wedging the item free, she looked at it in the light of her wand. "Stuck in the wall," she marveled aloud, recalling how she'd described it to them initially. Only it wasn't something ancient, and it wasn't any sort of emblem.
"A brooch?" Lucius asked, arching a brow.
"I recognize that." Sirius took it from her hand and turned it over.
"A lily?" Hermione's voice left her in a hushed tumble as a sinking feeling overcame her.
"More specifically, a lily that belonged to Lily," Severus said, his tone grave.
And there it was, the reason for that sink. "You're positive?"
Meeting her gaze steadily, Sev held out his hand for the brooch. Sirius surrendered silver pin without question. This was not the time for sentimentality.
Looking at the back, Severus nodded, his lips folded in a pensive frown. "Yes." He turned it in his fingers so an inscription on the back was visible. "Because I'm the one who gave it to her."