Tell me you didn't teach Potter that spell, Lupin!
A scrawny white ankle peaked above the bookshelf in the distance and a familiar voice whimpered. Severus thought about his own experience with that spell, he could only hope Potter wasn't so cruel as to expose Malfoy's private parts to his little friends. Malfoy could be a prat, but he didn't deserve humiliation on that scale...dangling him by the ankle, helpless to however many on lookers jeered at him, and exposing his pants were already crossing a line.
Of course Potter inherited his father's cruelty...
The voice taunting Malfoy wasn't Potter's. It was his daughter's. What it lacked in gleeful cruelty, it made up in a cold anger that he hadn't thought her capable of. She laughed, but it rang hollow. Hermione was all cold rage and vengeance, and it frightened him.
"Still like looking down on us, Malfoy?" she asked. "Are we ants that in our rightful place? Do we 'know what we are'?"
Malfoy whimpered and begged while Hermione continued her disgust-fuelled speech. Severus couldn't condone it, shock and anger propelled him forward, but with every word he got the idea that whatever Malfoy did to prompt this, it was simply the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. He wondered if all that venom and spite was even directed at the boy in its entirety.
By the time he reached them, what he saw wasn't the scene that unfolded sixteen years ago. Potter and company didn't look pleased, they all stared at Hermione in disbelief. It seemed Severus wasn't the only one that underestimated the girl.
Hermione stood, drawn up to her full height, her bushy hair seemed to stand on end as if filled with electricity, her skin blanched and-she was shaking. It didn't affect her voice, and he doubted the others saw that she was as shocked as the rest of them.
She let Malfoy down gently, ensuring he landed on his feet. The boy stared at the tiny girl in terror, tears pouring from his pale eyes.
"Run," Hermione hissed.
Malfoy and Parkinson tore off in the opposite direction through the stacks and Hermione dropped to her knees, covering her mouth. As Hermione began to sob the others all simply stared at her, unsure what to do.
"What have I done?" she asked the floor, perhaps more loudly than she wished.
"That is precisely what I'd like to know, Hermione Elizabeth," he folded his arms, eyes not leaving his daughter.
"It wasn't her fault, Professor," Delaney said in a small voice, wiping her own eyes. "She was defending me."
"Pl-" Hermione whispered.
"An undersized girl two years your junior needed to defend you from a younger boy?" he seethed. "Pathetic."
"You don't understand!" Potter snapped. "Malfoy brought it on himself! If Hermione hadn't shut him up I would have!"
"Harry," Hermione choked. "Don't de-"
"If I wanted your input, Potter-"
"But Malfoy started it!" Weasley insisted.
"Are you five, Weasley?" he snapped. "That's the only way that defence is even worth the words."
"SHE DID THE WHOLE BLOODY SCHOOL A FAVOUR TAKING THAT PRAT DOWN A NOTCH!" Weasley yelled. "I WISH I HAD DONE IT!"
"STOP DEFENDING ME!" Hermione cried, her hands locked around her head as she stared at the ground before whispering. "I don't deserve it."
"Anyone who doesn't have the last name Snape should leave," Severus said coldly, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "Now!"
They left without a word, some casting a lingering glance to Hermione before they left. Hermione stopped sobbing, at least audibly, but she still sat on her knees, staring at the floor in profound shame. He stared at her contemplating how to handle the situation. She clearly felt guilty about what she'd done to Malfoy, but she still used dark magic on another student, and not in self-defence. She did it to make a point. And where had she learned Levi Corpus? He had no intention of teaching her the spell used so frequently to torment him, and it wasn't exactly in the Standard Book of Spells. Lupiin might have taught it to Potter, but he wouldn't to Hermione. Not with their history.
He walked over to her books and found no answers. Not unless she was planning to reveal Malfoy as an Animagus. Though given that it was a spell to revert an animal to their true human form, he doubted the books, notes and registry had anything to do with Hermione's behaviour.
"Get up."
Hermione slowly rose to her feet and turned to face him, but her eyes never left the floor. She clasped her hands together tightly and steadied her breath.
"Where to start?" he said. "You told me hours ago you make a habit of doing favours for those who delight in tormenting you and then I find you practising dark magic on a boy I told you to leave alone? I think I shall start with why?"
"Does it matter?" she asked.
"I believe I told you to explain yourself," he said. "I won't say it again, Hermione Elizabeth."
Hermione squeezed her hands tighter together before steadying her breath again. "I should start by saying we've been mutually antagonistic since first year. It started with our usual banter. I'm such a disappointment I wasn't an hour old before my mother ditched us, he's a spoiled brat that his parents pay to keep away from them. It escalated from there. Deirdre tried to broker a peace between us. That's when Malfoy insulted her. She was in tears, Dad. All she did was-"
"I believe this is the part where I tell you I don't care," he sighed. "The boy insulted her and your response was to humiliate him."
"I-I-erm-I guess I just wanted him to feel as helpless as the rest of us are," she sighed. "He's constantly looking down at us-"
"Like 'ants who should know their rightful place'?"
Hermione sighed and looked away again. "How much did you hear?"
"I didn't get the whole of your little sanctimonious speech, but I caught enough to get the highlights," he folded his arms over his chest. "Thought there was some poetry to your little attack, did you?"
"I thought he liked looking down on us so much I'd give him a hand with it," Hermione scoffed, her voice hollow.
"Didn't go down as easy as you thought, did it?" he asked. "Thought you'd feel vindicated, didn't you?"
"I did," she admitted. "For a whole two seconds I felt a sick satisfaction...but-erm-then I-erm-I-I saw his face, actually heard his voice. He just so-ugh-and I-but-" she sighed. "It doesn't matter. I-erm-I think I crossed a line. He looked terrified."
"You did,"he sat on the table before averting his own gaze. "And he was. That boy didn't know if you were going to stop at humiliating him. For all he knew, it was just a sadistic prelude to something even more sinister. Malfoy had no idea what condition he was walking out of this library in, if at all."
"You think he really thought that?" she asked in a small, broken voice.
"I can promise you he did," he stated plainly. "Where the hell did you learn that spell? Lupin?"
"No, sir," she said. "I-erm-I don't quite remember. I think I-erm-I think I read it somewhere. Maybe-maybe scrawled in the margins of one of the older books while I was reordering the library last year..." her voice trailed off. She bit her lip, and unfortunately, it was clear the girl was trying to remember. Meaning it could have been from a number of sources.
"You clearly knew what it did, given your speech," he returned his gaze to his shrinking daughter.
"Levi Corpus, elevate body," she clasped her hands tighter. "What else could it have been?"
"You used a handwritten spell you could have come across from anywhere and your only idea of what it might possibly do was based on your knowledge of proto-Latin?!" he snapped getting to his feet. "It seems I should have saved the terms 'shocked' and 'disgusted' for this little occasion!"
"I know," she whispered.
"I can't believe this," he spat. "You could have seriously injured that boy or worse! It was bad enough when your retaliation for an insult was to humiliate him on that scale, but to use a spell based on such a flimsy understanding! How could you? You stupid little girl!"
Hermione said nothing for a moment, but shrank. She nervously clawed at her hands and chewed her lip. Shame and guilt emanated from her, as if the gravity of what she could have done caught up with the gravity of what she'd done. He waited for the apology, if she could get the words out. Though it wasn't his, frankly profound, disappointment she should have been apologising for. Though he doubted she'd be able to look Malfoy in the eye for a while. He could tell by her shrinking, the tightness of her clasped hands and her down-turned face that she was doing everything to simply stay the sobs from returning.
"I won't lie," he steadied his voice. "I'm profoundly disappointed in you and appalled by your behaviour. I don't know what Malfoy said to Delaney to make you act so rashly-"
"He said-"
"Don't interrupt me! " he lifted her face.
Given her behaviour, he hadn't expected to feel pity. However, the blanched face, and the tears caught in her long eye-lashes along with something hollow and broken lurking in her large brown eyes. Severus wasn't the only one appalled by her behaviour, he knew that, but he hadn't fully appreciated how much she was disturbed by her own behaviour until he saw her little face.
How could he not? She joined a non-human rights commission, she couldn't bring herself to eat meat or dairy (he once overheard the Delaney girl describe Hermione and herself as vegan), hell, when she was four she cried when a student kicked Mrs Norris. Cruelty wasn't something she delighted in. She wasn't Potter performing cruel acts for the sheer fun of it, and she wasn't him either, she wouldn't be lost in a quest for vengeance.
"As I was saying," he continued. "I don't know what Malfoy did and I don't care. Nothing he could have said would warrant you practising dark magic. I should recommend your suspension, I should pull you out of the Japanese program, perhaps pull you out of classes altogether. Yet, I doubt there's anything I could that could compare to what you're doing to yourself. That horrified face will stay with you for years. I strongly suggest you remember that next time you feel so inclined to terrorize your peers out of a desire for vengeance. Nothing good will come of it and a little piece of you dies when you give in to it."
"And here I thought you wanted me to stand for myself," Hermione scoffed weakly.
"I imagine there are ways for you to do so that don't invoke dark forces," he sighed placing a hand on her head. "Regardless of whether or not you're punishing yourself, I can't let this behaviour go unaddressed. You mentioned you weren't getting enough sleep. Collect your things and go to your dormitory. We'll discuss this further in the morning."
"Yes, sir."
"Forum Vero Revelare!" Hermione whispered, tapping Crookshanks with her wand.
The giant ginger cat purred, head-butting her cheek. He knew she was distressed and tried to comfort her, while assuring her that it wasn't his true form that was hidden from Hermione. She sighed wondering what else the dream meant if not that Crookshanks, who was clever and long-lived. He didn't even communicate using words, and he was still cryptic, which was less comforting.
"Some sick part of me enjoyed seeing Malfoy so desperate," Hermione confessed wiping her eyes. "Do you think I'm a monster, Crookshanks?"
Crookshanks slowly blinked his yellow eyes before he stood on her lap and placed his two massive front paws on either of her shoulders, bringing his squashed face into hers. He didn't think she was a monster, he thought she was good...she provided him with food and cuddles. At least he found her useful.
Hermione flipped through her volume on metamagics to see if she could find something she could use. She promised Harry she was on the case, and she spent weeks doing homework and recovering emotionally from her father's outburst. Harry and Ron deserved better, she should have taken that drive to terrorize Malfoy and put it toward something useful. If she wasn't Harry's useful sidekick, she didn't know what she was, but she dreaded becoming the villain of the piece. That part of her that still felt vindicated was proof of that.
She came upon a potion to be used as eyedrops that could allow the user to see active spells and other magical effects. She wondered if that would allow her to find out what was wrong with Scabbers and his connection to Black. She knew her father could use a spell to look through Archimedes's eyes. If he could look through an owl's eyes, Black could look through a rat's...or a cat's.
"You'd tell me if you were spying for Sirius Black, wouldn't you?" she whispered scratching behind his ears.
In response Crookshanks curled up in her lap, kneading the fabric of her nightdress while wondered if the purring had more to do with comforting her than expressing his contentment. She sighed and wondered if her father had lunar dust and cornea fluid from an angler dragon. Something she'd likely have to steal, which would prove difficult. Though reader further, her stomach churned, it also called for the ocular nerve of an owl, a whole wolfspider, claws of a cat, tooth of a wolf and blood of a vampire. She doubted her father carried vampire blood in his private stores.
Damn, I wish there were plant and rock based alternatives in sympathetic magic, she thought glancing at her bedside clock. It was nearly nine. The feast and celebrations would be over in an hour. Her father told her that back in the old days they celebrated until sunrise, until they realised how dangerous it was to ask sleep-deprived children to perform magic.
"I think I'd use the term disastrous," he mused.
"What kind of disasters?" asked an inquisitive eight-year-old Hermione. "Did you do anything really bad?"
"I'm not that old, Hermione Elizabeth!" he teased mussing her hair.
"And I bet still walked to school up hill both ways, despite attending a boarding school."
"Through at least a metre of snow, both ways," he smirked.
Things were just starting to become good between the two of them again, and Hermione blew it. She reached for the closest comfort to her, one of Hiro's letters. She traced the kanji with her fingers as she re-read it. She kept the letter where he described the sea witch and the samurai being connected by the red string of fate under her pillow. She'd been reading it a lot recently. Between the constant ups and downs with her loved ones, the stress of preparing for OWLs, her impossible schedule with the time-turner, keeping said time-turner a secret from said loved ones, and trying to seek out an enemy she'd already identified on a subconscious level, comfort was hard to come by.
Hermione woke up every morning doubting Hiro was real, doubting he was actual hers. It seemed impossible that someone could find Hermione desirable. That someone might want her in any capacity. For years she'd been told how stupid, rash, ugly and horrible she was. She knew it was true. A mercy would be to let Hiro go before he came to his senses. A mercy for both of them. She didn't deserve such a sweet and loving boy. But she was too selfish, all she could do was prepare herself for when he did come to his senses and abandon her.
Hermione's, admittedly pathetic, self-pity party was interupted by the sound of a scream from below her. Crookshanks yowled before dashing underneath the bed. Hermione sprang to her feet as well, but instead of diving under cover, she grabbed her wand and dressing gown before rushing down the stairs. Hermione looked around the empty common room and decided that the scream must have come from outside.
Sirius Black, she steadied her breath as her blood ran cold. Hermione couldn't just ignore the helpless woman screaming on the other side of the door, but she was no match for a mass murderer. As much as she mused about hating herself, as much as she hated so much of her life, she didn't want to die. Could she face him?
Move, damn it! she commanded herself, to no avail, her feet froze to the floor beneath her. Moving her feet from the scarlet carpet was like moving cinder blocks through deep water. Unsure when her limbs got so heavy, or chest so tight, she urged herself forward, at last taking that first step.
That first step was all she needed to build momentum. Once one foot was placed in front of the other, she sprang into action like a cat stalking her prey, emerging from the portrait hole.
"Expellia-" Hermione trailed off into a pained and horrified shriek.
The assailant was prepared for this, the man from the shadows slashed with a blade, shining in the filtered moon light as the portrait opened. Something caused the tall, cloaked figure to hesitate as she crashed into him, causing the knife to scrape across her wand arm as she landed on him. He threw her off of him with ease, and Hermione slid into a wall, clutching her wand tightly.
The man scampered off, she thought he succeeded in grabbing his knife. If that was Sirius Black...Hermione was just a little girl, why'd he let her live? Pain clouded her mind and she grabbed her hurt arm, tears springing to her eyes. It had to be her wand-arm he collided with. She remembered the spell her father taught her to stay bleeding wounds, the cut on her arm wasn't terribly deep, it hurt like hell, but she knew even in her shock that it wasn't serious. What was serious was if he found his intended target with the knife.
She closed the wound, sloppily with her off hand, and gathered her courage to pursue before sobbing echoed from behind her.
The woman who screamed. she turned around. "I'm here to hel-Fat Lady?"
"Don't look at me!" she wailed.
Hermione could see why, she was attacked. Tears welled in her dark eyes and her dark hair, normally done up in intricate Hellenistic plaits escaped at every angle, her make up ran, which Hermione wasn't sure could happen with a painting, and from shoulder to hip the poor painting woman had been slashed with a sharp. She couldn't help but stare at the battered Fat Lady, completely dumbfounded.
"Stop staring!"
"I'm not looking," she announced, keeping her head down. "Is there some kind of restoration you need? Will you bleed out?"
"How insensitive!" she shrieked. "Of course I can't bleed out! No blood. But I'm hideous! All to defend you miserable lot!"
"Thank you, Fat Lady," Hermione sighed, trying to sound sincere rather than annoyed.
In truth, she was relieved that the Fat Lady's concern was her own vanity rather than something more dire. The proud noble witch being literally cut down must have been hard. Hermione had to remind herself not to judge. Regardless of the Fat Lady's priorities, she was just attacked, and severely. Hermione wasn't sure, but she imagined she faced death.
"'Tis my proud duty," she sniffed with some colour returning to her voice.
"Who did this to you?"
"That monster Sirius Black!" she cried. "I used to protect the boy, let him in after hours, forgo asking questions when he and his lot traipsed around late into the night! And this is how he repays me!"
So it was him! Hermione didn't know who else it could possibly be, but she hoped. If he tore off-no if he attacked the tower, he must have lost track of the days. Maybe he was leaving to regroup. Hermione could only hope. She thought he headed in the right direction for a quick escape.
She wished she had that damn map of Fred and George's. She was certain that it was the reason they had a more intimate knowledge of secret passages than both Filch, who's job was to know, and Hermione, who learned a number of them sneaking out of her rooms to meet with other children before she started school. If it wasn't in the dungeon, she was less likely to know it, but she had known of one nearby that led to a secret staircase to the grounds. She could track the grounds and to his hiding spot.
And then what? Bore him to death with useless trivium? You're no match magically, you stupid little girl! She hadn't time to entertain the thoughts. By time she got to Dumbledore or her father in the Great Hall, he would be long gone. She had to hide, stay well hidden and immobilize him from her hiding spot. Once he was down, she could get help.
Or simply stake out his hide-away and report it. Recon is safer for everyone involved.
Hermione moved behind a Greco-Roman statue of a rearing lion battling a giant serpent in a tucked away alcove. From there, an ill-used tight spiral staircase filled with cobwebs faced her. She was thankful for the ill-use when she found a trail of disturbed dust leading down. At first the trail indicated a clumsy gate, there were no clear footprints, but the path was all over the place. He seemed to gain control of his movement as she saw large foot prints indicative of a tall man. Suddenly, she wished she were part cat again, or had at least applied a potion of owl sight. The light from her wand bounced off the tight walls, alerting him that she gained. She imagined at least, but she couldn't go in blind.
As she gained, she could finally hear footsteps. This was it, she held back a moment. He was fleeing from the light, but she doubted that would keep if he noticed his pursuer was a small, thirteen-year-old girl rather than a professor. She wanted to stop him, but she had to be smart. She didn't have faith she could resist torture if he tried that to get her to mention Harry's whereabouts and routine. And she doubted she had the strength to do what was necessary before the information poured out of her.
Hermione heard the grinding of stone on stone and followed, bounding toward him at top speed. Barefoot and small, along with years of creeping about, Hermione knew how to move fast and silent. Once in the light of the near full moon, she could nox her light and move more freely on the grounds. Thank god for shrubbery and brown hair and medium olive skin.
My dressing gown is pink, that'll be a beacon. She shed her dressing gown, happy for her father's penchant for dressing her in navy before she started school. Like a ninja, she should blend into the shadows in the night. That give her an edge for ambushing the mass murderer.
I'm tailing a mass murderer... she inhaled cold air into her tight lungs. A sadistic one. Just needed to let that reality sink in. She squeezed out of the small opening Black carelessly left open and stole into the night.
Hermione's probably in bed, safe and clueless, Severus thought as he examined the Fat Lady's empty canvas. Blasted witch probably just traipsed off to the vineyard painting with Lady Violet and lost track of time.
That optimism faded when he, Dumbledore and McGonagall finally found what they were searching for. A sobbing Fat Lady who had been slashed from shoulder to hip, in distraught fits of sobs.
"Don't look at me!" she cried.
"Could you tell us what happened?" Dumbledore asked softly.
The Fat Lady wheezed between sobs, bringing her knees to her chest she made a statement that ended any hope of a sadistic Hallowe'en prank.
"It was Sirius Black!" she wailed. "With a knife! He tried to enter the portal and when I wouldn't let him in, he did this to me!"
"Shit," Severus breathed. She's fine, I told her to go to her dormitory...because she's never disobeyed you before?
Gryffindors shouted or whispered in panic, the cacophony of scared children drown out the Fat Lady's sobs. He feared for a moment there might be even more vulnerable kids running about the school while Black roamed the school. He was a sadistic bastard before the imprisonment and dementors. He opted for a knife rather than a stolen wand. That couldn't mean anything good, and he was willing to bet that they all knew it too.
Hermione, please for once in your life have listened to me.
"Gryffindors!" Dumbledore shouted to the panicked crowd. "Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout will lead you to the Great Hall. You will sleep there tonight, under our guard. You are all perfectly safe," he turned to Severus and McGonagall. "I want a perimeter check."
"Understood," McGonagall nodded shifting into cat form.
He suddenly wished he could turn into a bat like colleagues and students often accused him. A way to pursue without alerting him to his presence. Though he did have a way to get a bird's eye view. Something he would take advantage of once he had a few questions answered.
"My daughter," he asked once the students were shepherded away. "She's a little girl this tall with curly brown hair and eyes, incredibly poor taste in friends including Potter."
"I know who the students I protect are," she said indignantly. "Or try to protect, anyway. She-I tried to stop her."
"She pursued him?!" he said, horror clutching at his chest.
The Fat Lady nodded solemnly.
"Why the hell didn't you start with that?!" he cried.
"Severus," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "If she said that with all the students looking on Harry Potter and the Weasleys would have broke off from the group to look for her. I'll have every professor searching for both of them. We'll find your daughter."
"Not every professor," he said slowly.
Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses with an accusatory flame in his blue eyes. "We've talked about your suspicions before he started."
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then?"
Archimedes flew over the forest, no trace of Hermione or Black. Severus wound through the corridors to Lupin's office covering his left eye with one hand and clutching a knitted pink blanket in the other.
"Lupin!" he shouted walking into his office.
"S-Severus?" Lupin looked up from his book, looking ready to turn in judging by the tattered nightshirt. "What's going on?"
The potion makes him drowsy. Hopefully he's useful.
"It's the fullmoon tomorrow, correct?" he asked.
"Y-yes," Lupin knit his eyebrows and rose to his bare feet. "That's why I'm staying here tonight."
"Change of plans," he said. "Your old schoolmate broke into the castle and attacked the Fat Lady, perhaps an hour ago. My idiot daughter took off after him...I'll kill that girl once I save her."
"Shit," Lupin breathed. "I'll start search-what happened to your eye?"
"Using it to connect to my owl's," he explained. "He's got a literal bird's eye view. Nothing yet."
Lupin through on an equally tattered dressing gown and slippers. "I'll-"
Severus tossed Hermione's baby blanket on his desk. "It's the fullmoon tomorrow, you should be able to tap into your more wolfish abilities, yes?"
Lupin turned his pale green eyes to the blanket and his thin face turned white in terror, his frail frame shook, staring at the blanket as it were a writhing serpent waiting to strike. "Severus," he whispered, his voice catching. "I've never, the wolf-what if it takes over once I-I-I can't-"
"You can and you will!" he shouted. "My daughter is in danger. For all I know- I don't have time for your moralistic absolutions, Lupin! For once in your goddamn miserable life use this curse for something good!"
"You don't know what you're asking, Severus," he trembled. "I-If I lose control-"
"Then I'll kill you myself!" he snarled. "You once told me you gave a damn about Hermione, this is your chance to prove it!"
Lupin sighed, gingerly pinching the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger, still staring at the thing with horror. He slowly scooped it up with both hands and brought it up to his face. Severus wasn't prepared for how unsettling the image of a grown man sniffing his daughter's baby blanket was. He turned his exposed eye away.
"The only scent on this is yours," he sighed. "The other, I assume hers, is too faint for me to get anything. Is this a baby blanket?"
Severus nodded stiffly.
"Do you have anything more recent? A hairbrush she left behind? Clothing? A more recent blanket?"
"She took everything with her," he explained, panic gripping his mind before he gripped his wand. "I-oh, for the love of-"
"He attacked the Fat Lady?" Lupin asked, realisation crossing his pale face.
"You listen as well as you did when we were boys," he sighed.
"I think I know where to start," he said. "Follow me."
Severus followed Lupin, keeping pace as best he could with his focus split between Lupin and his owl's fruitless search. They walked the winding corridors back toward Gryffindor tower. Hermione was a smart girl, he assumed she'd be smart enough to keep a distance in her pursuit, but the part of him that rationalised that also would have assumed she would keep herself safe, maybe find him or the headmaster-hell, even the werewolf leading him-for help. And if Black found her? He was never so happy Hermione bore no resemblance to him, that might spare her if Black would ignore everyone but his child.
"There's this secret passage in the corridor where the Fat Lady is," Lupin explained. "Staircase leads directly to the grounds. We used to take it as boys when we-when I-"
"Wolfmoon nights?" he asked.
Lupin lowered his head in shame. It almost hurt to see how much any reminder of his condition disturbed him. The man, his age, close to his height, and imbued temporarily with inhuman abilities as well as an accomplished magician in his own right, shrank like a little boy. He recognised the shame, the self-loathing, he could see it when he demanded Lupin use his abilities to track Hermione. The way he regarded that blanket, it was the same way Severus felt about dark magic. Like he'd be seduced and lose himself to the addictive and all-encompassing power. Maybe he and Lupin had something in common after all.
"Yeah," he said. "Listen, Severus. I don't-I haven't been in contact with Sirius since-I-" he sighed. "I don't believe he would hurt a child."
"We're on this damn goose-chase in the first place because he came here to harm a child!" Severus hissed.
Lupin didn't have a response to this. He stopped, shining his light on a Greco-Roman statue of a rearing Lion battling a large serpent. "We're here. We'll find her."
Lupin pulled on the lion's left canine, and the sound of stone-on-stone grinding echoed through the silent corridor. The wall opened to reveal a well-neglected, very narrow spiral staircase succumb to dust and cobwebs. Which gave the two men great insight into the first traffic it'd seen in ages. They pursued, Lupin once again leading the way while Severus followed on his heels.
Lupin stopped abruptly, and Severus collided into the man's back sending him forward a stair or two before he stopped himself by gripping the tight walls. Severus stopped himself from falling by doing the same, causing him to lose his link to Archimedes and the only eyes in the forest he had.
"Jesus, Lupin!" he hissed. "Why'd you-"
He suddenly understood why Lupin stopped as something pink caught his eye. Oh, god, he thought bending over to examine the wrinkled and torn dressing gown small enough to-it was Hermione's. There was...on the arm, there was blood. His throat tightened and his stomach churned. He didn't want to think about why it was there. Bile rose to his throat at the intrusive thoughts.
"That should be plenty recent," he spat tossing the dressing gown to Lupin.
"It is," he nodded, taking in the scent. "Yeah, I can track her easily with this."
"Good," Severus said. "I'll kill him."
Hermione lost him. Perhaps she moved too slowly. She emerged from behind a large maple nearby hoping her eyes would adjust to the moonlight soon. A chilled wind howled across the grass and bare tree branches moving mists around her. A shiver ran down her spine, either from the cold, the eerie atmosphere or the fact she was tracking an infamous killer...it was that last one, she was sure, that froze her blood.
A ghostly wail accompanied the cold wind that time. Hermione grew up with ghosts, and knew the ghostly shenanigans they got up to on Hallowe'en, but that wasn't enough to prepare her for the silver mass tearing across the sky. Headless forms on phantom steeds with baying ghost wolfhounds and greyhounds dashing before them, baying coldly into the night. Hermione couldn't help but remember old stories about the Great Hunt as the train of apparitions rode the mists like a ship on the water. Story was, if you stumbled across the Great Hunt you became fair game. Hallowe'en was a night to either batten down the hatches or gather to honour the dead, but only in large groups. Hermione might have been too old to be frightened off by fairy tales, but as a witch, she was also intimately aware that every fairy tale had a kernel of truth.
Black, I have to get Black. She shuddered and pushed herself forward watching the puffs of air leave her body and join the mist. Creeping from tree to tree, she couldn't help but sigh in relief when she was either unnoticed or unimportant to the Headless Hunt. Perhaps the Great Hunt was just a story after all. Hermione pressed forward tracking the disturbed grass, ignoring the growing distant baying hounds and hunting horns.
She spied something through the mists when she took cover beneath yet another barren tree. Big and black, approaching her. Was it the Grim? No, too small, standing at about sixty-one centimetres tall, the black form was probaby-no, it moved like a cat. A yowl told her the fury black form approaching was indeed some kind of large cat.
Can't be a highland tiger, their colouring is wrong...Fairy tales occupied Hermione's mind once more as she recalled reading about the Cait Sith, a cat fairy that Hermione was certain didn't exist, despite having looked like their hybrid form for half a year. It came closer and Hermione could make out details of the creature now, the obscuring, ominous mist lifting to reveal the large black cat with stunning cobalt eyes carrying a large black bat (of all things!) in her mouth.
"Hey," she whispered.
The cat drew closer. She was a Kellas cat, a mix between a domestic and wild cat. There was something more intelligent lingering behind her eyes than other cats, their might have been some kneazle in her too. Hermione felt she could communicate with cats, knew she could communicate with Crookshanks, so she thought she'd try it here.
"Are you okay?"
My kittens, she stalked around Hermione in a semi-circle. Hermione turned to the trees massive root system to see a knot above the soil. There three little Kellas kittens stared up at her, all girls, unlike their mother, they had long hair and bottle brush tails, two of them had their mother's stunning blue eyes, one with single cobalt and single silver eye.
"I'm not going to hurt them," Hermione promised. "I'm looking for someone, a tall human, male, grown."
Intruder, sharp tool...she went into the kittens hidey-hole, but kept staring at her.
"Yes," Hermione whispered.
Hermione's hope that the kneazle blood in her would make communicating easier than with Crookshanks (who Hermione was convinced had trace amounts of kneazle blood himself) were dashed when she picked up the next bit, as it made no bloody sense.
Yes, headed left building through stone, a man with sharp tool, a dog. The intruder went to the violent tree. Dangerous.
At least Hermione knew what she meant by violent tree.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Hermione made a break for the Whomping Willow, not affording to lose more time. She didn't know what she'd do once she got there, but she'd have to think on her feet. Her very cold, blueing feet. An owl screeched overhead ducking low to clip her. Hermione ducked covering her head and running full tilt toward her target.
She nearly got to her mark when yet another black form appeared through the mists, this one, much, much larger. Definitely not another Kellas cat. This thing was a dog with long, shaggy black fur, pointed ears and a wolf-like snout containing sharp teeth snarling at her. Terror clutched at Hermione's heart as once again fairy tales invaded her mind. This ominous black dog...could it be the Grim? Maybe Harry had seen something more than a stray.
Mist, nearly full moon, ghostly parade, black cats, dead bats, a dive-bombing owl, and now the Grim? All while tracking a murderer I'm not qualified to handle. All I'm missing is the cemetery and a werewolf and I'll have the perfect cliched Hallowe'en death. Eat your heart out, Stephen King...Hermione's sardonic thoughts aside, terror did work it's way through her frozen body. She thought about everything she did wrong up to this point, knowing her death would be in vain. She shut her eyes and inhaled sharply, hoping it'd be quick when, it didn't attack.
She opened her eyes to see the thing turn around and continue making their way to the Whomping Willow when she remembered something the Kellas cat told her. A man with a sharp tool, a dog...are they one in the same?
"Forum Vero Revelare!" she waved her wand at the creature.
Sirius Black stood in the shaggy dog's place, long black hair pointed every direction along with his beard and mustache, his dark eyes conveying legitimate shock for a moment. Shock changed to an emotion Hermione couldn't interpret. It was a mix, frustration, anger, and...sadness? Fear?
Get him! Get him now while he's still surprised! But Hermione stood frozen in fear. She couldn't will herself to move. Even with her wand at the ready, even with the many occasions tonight she did move herself forward.
"You couldn't have done that sooner?!" Ron had told her back in first year when they all nearly died because of her. "It was the troll all over again. Promise me you're not going to freeze up like that again! It could kill us!"
Why did she always freeze, she should immobilise him and get help. She knew how to do it, but her body and brain weren't on speaking terms at the moment. She wanted to, she knew how. But nothing. She stared a mass murderer she tracked in the eye and was made aware that she was a helpless thirteen-year-old girl.
At least she wouldn't get her friends killed. She just hoped he'd kill her quick.
Sirius Black wasn't wandless. Hermione thought he was because of the knife, but he took a wand from his robes and stared her down, pointing it at her.
Disarm him, you stupid piece of shit!
"I-" his voice sounded hoarse, as if it'd been years since he spoke. "I can't have you going around telling everyone my secret, but I do have a message for Harry Potter."
"HERMIONE!" Lupin bellowed into the night.
The two men combed the misty grounds, checking behind each tree and bush for some sign of either Hermione or Black. Or both. Severus followed Lupin, cursing the noise and additional chill created by the Headless Hunt. Just following a werewolf to find my missing daughter on a near full moon through misty castle grounds accompanied by the Headless Hunt. Black cats anywhere?
"If Hermione was taken she's not going to respond!" Severus hissed. "You'll just alert him. God, I should have never left her! 'go to your dormitory', what the hell was I thinking? Something terrible always happens to her on Hallowe'en!"
"You had no idea she'd leave her dorm," Lupin sighed. "You can't know everything that goes through her mind."
"It's-" he sighed. "She has this hero complex. I should have known if she were alone and someone attacked that she'd go after them to try and save her friends. Especially to relieve her guilt after tonight."
"Guilt? Her? What'd she do?" Lupin asked. "Accidentally eat a sweet with gelatin at the feast?"
"Do you remember dangling helpless students in the air by their ankles?" he asked sharply.
"Listen," Lupin said. "I-erm-I know an apology isn't enough. But I truly am sorry."
"That's not what I-" Severus let out an exasperated sigh. "She stumbled across the spell at some point and terrorised the Malfoy boy with it after he insulted her friend."
"I see," he said sniffing the air. "This way. We're getting closer. H-"
"You think I don't want to be calling out to her?" he snapped. "I want nothing more than to hear her respond. But alerting Black to our presence might get her killed!"
"Sirius wouldn't-"
"It's not tomato sauce on her dressing gown!" he hissed. "One of your best friends is responsible for deaths of the other three. I'm not relying on your judge of character."
Something moved by a nearby tree. It kept low, it might have been too small, but if Hermione kept to the ground, maybe...
"It's not h-" Lupin started.
It certainly was not. Something that would have been obvious had it not been for his blind desperation. A Kellas cat and her kittens had made her den in the massive roots of the dead oak. The mother hissed at him and swiped and his wand hand causing him to grunt in pain and drop his wand.
I guess I found the black cat, he thought bitterly picking up his wand. "Damn."
"Severus?" Lupin shone his light on him. "Are you okay?"
"I saw movement," he explained rising. "I thought she was hiding. When she was little she used to-I'll be fine if we find her."
"We will," Lupin assured him. "You'll have your little girl alive and well and in your arms before the sunrise."
God, I hope your right, he thought, his heart beat hadn't slowed since they found her bloodied dressing gown. "I'm not so sure about that last part," he sighed, mouth moving before his mind could shut it. "I'm not exactly her favourite person right now."
"Harsh when you caught her using the spell on Malfoy?" he asked.
"I couldn't let it slide," Severus said. "But I may have said somethings I regret then...and before."
"I get it," Lupin sighed. "Not all of it. But I've certainly my share of regrets in the role model department. As soon as I heard about James and Lily I wanted to take Harry in myself. But I couldn't, not with my condition. It was too dangerous-I was too dangerous. I just wanted to care for Harry, and more importantly let him know that he was cared for. Loved and wanted. Yet I waited till he was thirteen to let him do the right thing."
"Trust me, Lupin," he rolled his eyes. "That boy knows people care about him. Even if you discount those who clamour over him because of his fame, Dumbledore would rewrite the stars for the boy, there isn't a soul who doesn't know. The Weasley would adopt him if they could, and he has friends who will foolishly put their lives on the line for him. Even before when he was living with that awful woman I'm certain your letters kept morale up. You did the right thing keeping your distance until your condition could be controlled."
"Erm," Lupin inhaled deeply. "I never wrote him. The train was my first contact with Harry."
Severus pressed forward but stared at the man. The man fancied himself a surrogate father for the boy, admitted he wanted nothing more. If it were suddenly dangerous for Severus to be near Hermione , he would still write the girl. "You never wrote him? The entire time you knew where he was and not once?"
"It was too hard," Lupin confessed. "I threw out so many letters. I'd steal myself and realise-erm-that maybe he was better he was better off if I just let him be."
"You're an idiot," he sighed. "It might have been easier for you to let yourself feel guilty than to maintain a distanced relationship with the child, but Potter would have been better off receiving letters these past twelve years than nothing until you were ready. Being raised by that vile woman and not one conmection with someone who gave a damn? I suppose I can stop blaming his father for his behaviour."
"Excuse me?" Lupin scoffed. "It wasn't Harry that ran off after a mass murderer. That would be your daughter! And I don't think I need parenting advice from the man who publicly demeans his daughter because she has the audacity to point out werewolves are human! I should-" Lupin stopped, sniffing the once more. "She's very close. Let's go. HERMIONE!"
"Perhaps we should search in silence?" he hissed. "HERMIONE!" Severus shouted (not two seconds after he demanded silence) at the sight of a lone prone girl in the grass.
Perhaps two metres away-if that- from the Whomping Willow they found her. Hermione lay alone in the dewy grass, shrouded in mist, unmoving. Severus's heart beat in his throat and ice filled his veins. He rushed over to his daughter shouting her name. He slid on his knees and gathered the tiny girl close to him. He wasn't sure what caused her to go unconscious, but she was breathing. Relief washed over him. She seemed...fine. The blood was from a cut on her arm, and it wasn't particularly deep. She was just unconscious and cold. Very cold.
"Is she alright?" Lupin asked, kneeling by her other side.
"I-I think so," he hoped, wrapping his cloak around the girl like a blanket. "Alive in any case. I can't believe neither of us thought to come here first."
"He must be using our old hide-away," Lupin said, staring at the tree. "I'll go after him. You should take care of your daughter."
Severus didn't need to be told, his desire for retribution-or at least of the immediate variety-was overtaken by his need to care for Hermione. He had to get her to the hospital wing, and he needed to be there for her when she woke. He didn't know what happened, or what state she'd be in. He lifted his daughter, cradling her close to his chest.
"Lupin?"
"Yeah?" he turned to face him.
"Don't get yourself killed."