AN: Erm, hi. I'm terrible. I am the George RR Martin of updates, and I am so sorry. I realllly hope you like this one, it moves the plot forward a lot (by my standards LOL).

Random things to keep in mind: YES LEGGINGS EXISTED IN THE 1970'S I LOOKED IT UP! You can actually physically steam when you exercise outside in cold northern climates and it's really cool! Uncanny Valley as a concept may or may not have existed in the 1970's, but it definitely did in the 1990's and therefore very conceivably could be known to Hermione. You will also find, an obvious Star Wars reference and a slightly less obvious (but still pretty fucking obvious) Teen Wolf one in this chap. So enjoy that. Lol.

CW: violence, substance abuse/alcoholism, passive suicidality (sort of), general angst to the 9th degree.

Chapter 30: In the Absence of Therapy

Hermione, as a rule, did not interact very much with James Potter. Given that she was very close friends with Lily, who at this point still possessed an extremely low tolerance for James, it was quite easy to explain away her own avoidance of him. But Lily wasn't the real reason she avoided James, even if her friend's antipathy towards him functioned as a convenient cover for Hermione's own complicated feelings regarding her fellow Gryffindor.

Her most obvious problem with James was that he looked so much like her memory of Harry that it was often almost physically painful for Hermione to look at him for very long. It wasn't that she didn't see Harry in Lily as well (of course she did, and it was more than just their shared eyes), but James was so physically like him, and yet so different in temperament in so many ways, that she couldn't help but think of and compare him to Harry every time she interacted with him. He was an uncanny valley version of the friend she had known, and Hermione found both James' similarities and differences to Harry unsettling in different measure.

Unlike with Remus, whom Hermione had gotten very good at effectively separating in her mind from the Professor she had briefly known in the 1990's, she hadn't yet been able to entirely master her reactions to James Potter, or to succeed at fully compartmentalizing him from his future son. Luckily, and in contrast to the undisguised loathing she'd blatantly broadcasted towards Black when she'd first arrived in the 1970's, Hermione's discomfort with James manifested itself in subtle ways which very few people seemed to pick up on. Lily though, ever the exception to the rule, had once remarked, offhand but puzzled, that Hermione sometimes looked at James in a way that seemed quite sad.

While the comment had been an unsettling observation to have pointed out to her, as far as Hermione knew it was also the extent of what anyone had ever noticed regarding her understandably complicated feelings towards James Potter, and Lily hadn't brought it up again after Hermione had told her an incomplete version of the truth; that James reminded her of someone she'd once known. Nonetheless, Hermione was well aware that James Potter was one of her weak spots, and for that reason she usually avoided interacting with him if she didn't have to.

It was cruel bit of irony, then, that she now found herself talking to James Potter at the behest of Lily, of all people. Though, Hermione reflected warily, she probably had a lot more of that to look forward to in the not too distant future once James matured a bit and Lily became willing to admit that she thought he was cute. Now though, it was a mere three days before the next full moon, and she and Lily had yet to come up with any solution as to what they ought to do about Snape and the threat ( and vague as what he'd said to Hermione might have been, she and Lily both thought it was a threat) he'd made towards Remus. The girls had both agreed from the outset that they'd rather not tell Remus what Snape had said unless it became absolutely necessary, not wanting to send him into a premature panic spiral.

Lily had, of course, tried talking to Snape. While their relationship was a lot more distant than it had been in previous years, they were still close and they had their history. Initially, Lily had thought she might be able to get through to him, but that had quickly proven an overly optimistic notion, as Hermione had suspected from the beginning it might. Apparently, as soon as Lily had broached the subject with the Slytherin (without mentioning Remus' lycanthropy outright, as the two girls figured it was best to maintain plausible deniability in case Snape, by some miracle, hadn't actually figured out Remus' condition and was just spouting off scarily accurate invective by unlucky coincidence), he'd lashed out defensively at her, advising Lily that she should worry less about what he was saying or doing, and more about who she was choosing to spend time with in Gryffindor. It hadn't been reassuring, and while the red head had made one more effort to talk to him, her second attempt had proven just as unfortunately futile as the first.

Once they'd exhausted that avenue, Lily had wanted to go to Dumbledore; a natural inclination, and yet one that Hermione found herself resistant to nonetheless. Since her arrival in the 70's, Hermione's feelings towards the Headmaster had evolved in such a way as to be frustratingly complicated. Perhaps time travel, and her losses as a result of it (her family, her innocence, her agency to freely effect change in the world she existed in) had jaded Hermione irreparably. For whatever reason, be it her experiences with time travel or just the accumulation of awareness as she aged, Hermione had grown steadily, undeniably warry of Dumbledore over the years. She could see now that he had a startling capacity for manipulation, and that there was quite a lot that he was willing to sacrifice in service of 'The Greater Good', including Harry's childhood and Hagrid's freedom, two things which she couldn't help but take personally.

As a result, Hermione had grown reluctant to involve Dumbledore in her affairs any more than he already was involved in them. It was quite possible she was being recklessly shortsighted and unduly paranoid, Hermione knew, and yet she couldn't help her impulses. Perhaps that was why she had originally been put in Gryffindor, Hermione mused; Like many in her house, she could be stubbornly pigheaded about certain things, admittedly sometimes to her detriment. To her mind though, Professor McGonagall was a much better option to go to should they be forced to eventually involve adults in the matter, though of course McGonagall might see fit to involve Dumbledore herself. Ultimately, at this stage, Hermione and Lily weren't certain that Snape planned on actually doing anything beyond making snide comments to the two of them. And so, it was with this line of cautious thinking that Hermione found herself seeking out James Potter, a role she had been designated for solely because Lily had point blank refused to be the one to speak to him.

Hermione deliberately sought to approach Potter when he was alone, a circumstance in it which had been frustratingly difficult for her to locate him, though she finally did manage it, purely by happenstance, the Thursday afternoon before the full moon was set to arrive. Predictably enough, she was up late revising in the common room and it had just gone half past 11 when Potter stumbled through the portrait hole, well past curfew, but for once mercifully alone. Late as it was, Hermione had been the only one in the common room before Potter's unexpected arrival, and it was now just the two of them; she could not have asked for a more opportune moment to talk to him.

"Potter," Hermione called out, startling him slightly. He clearly hadn't expected anyone to still be up. Why, Hermione wondered, did the Marauders seem to be continually surprised by the fact that people other than themselves stayed up late?

Potter sighed, running a hand reflexively through his hair and turning to her resignedly. "You can't take points off me for being out Granger, you're not a Prefect."

Hermione's lips pulled into a slight frown. "I'm aware of that Potter, thank you," she said, somewhat snippily despite herself. "I've actually been waiting to catch a moment alone with you for a while now and, conveniently, here you are. "

Potter glanced around, as though she might be talking to someone else, before gesturing confusedly at himself, looking absolutely perplexed by the fact that she wanted to speak to him. Hermione didn't entirely blame him. "A moment alone? With me?" Potter repeated dumbly. "You're sure you're not wanting Remus? Or Sirius?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's about Remus actually," she explained. "That's why I need to talk to you."

Potter frowned, his expression a combination of confusion and burgeoning concern for his friend. "What about Remus?" he asked, striding closer to her.

Briefly, Hermione relayed the situation to him, watching trepidatiously as Potter's face grew increasingly apocalyptic as she detailed just what exactly Snape had said.

"Look," Hermione said, placatingly but not without some exasperation, "We're not even sure Snape is going to actually do anything. He could just be making idle threats. For all we know, he's not even certain of what Remus is and is simply trying to gauge our reactions to his nasty innuendos in order to confirm his own suspicions."

Potter looked frustrated by her reasoning. "So what exactly is it you suggest we do Granger?" he demanded.

"I don't exactly know," Hermione admitted. "Just be watchful, I suppose. And be very careful this full moon, the lot of you."

Potter scoffed. "So essentially, you're suggesting we do nothing. Why did you even come to me with this, Granger?"

"I am suggesting you be careful," Hermione stressed. "And as unbelievable as this is, Potter, I came to you because of the four of you idiots, I thought you were the least likely to do something incredibly stupid in response to this information. I hope I wasn't wrong," she finished pointedly.

Potter sighed. "Maybe we should go to Dumbledore," he said worriedly, an echo of Lily's initial impulse.

Hermione shrugged. "Go to Dumbledore if you like, Potter, that's your prerogative, but you should know he's often less helpful than you'd expect," she said, thinking of Hagrid.

James frowned, seeming troubled by her words, but ultimately offered no direct push back. "So you don't think we should tell anyone about this," he said eventually, mystified.

"It may become necessary to involve adults at some point depending on what Snape does," Hermione acknowledged grimly. "That's why I'm telling you, Potter, so you can use your judgement. You're much closer to the situation than I am, and you're closer to Remus. Tell him if you think it's a good idea, you know better than me how he might react. Lily and I just didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. But whatever you do, don't tell Black."

James quirked an eyebrow at her, folding his arms across his chest, automatically on the defensive. "What do you mean 'don't tell Black'?" he parodied.

"I mean, precisely, that I don't think you should tell him about this," Hermione said plainly, and not without impatience. "It's quite evident he's not in a very emotionally stable place right now."

"You're the expert on him then? Is that it?" Potter wanted to know.

"Don't be unnecessarily defensive," Hermione shot back. "I don't need to be skilled in legilimency to see that Black's not exactly doing the greatest at the moment, do I? Frankly, it's blatantly obvious to everyone, and it's not exactly surprising, either, given that he's just been formally disowned."

"Fine," James allowed grudgingly, looking uncomfortable. "I won't tell Sirius."

"Tell me what?" someone demanded.

Hermione actually jumped, raising a hand to her heart as she turned, slowly, to find Black striding angrily across the common room towards her and Potter, glaring at them accusingly.

"Fuck," Potter muttered succinctly, which Hermione thought about summed up the situation. Black was clearly not poised to take this well, and he didn't even know what they had been planning on keeping from him yet. Judging by the look on Potter's face though (his expression was a combination of nervousness, discomfort and resignation) Black was going to find out about the situation pretty quickly. Hermione withheld a sigh.

Potter was rubbing nervously at the back of his head. "Padfoot," he greeted his friend warily, employing Black's mystifying new nickname. "Er…how long have you been here?"

"Long enough, Prongs," Black said shortly.

"We didn't notice you come in," Potter stammered, rather stupidly obviously in Hermione's opinion.

Black rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I gathered that much, Prongs," he retorted. "O's all around for observation, the pair of you."

Hermione stared fixedly at the carpet, studiously avoiding Black's gaze and leaving Potter to deal with the current mess of a situation they were in. Black, after all, she rationalized, was his friend and therefore more his problem. Hermione's own current problem was that remnants of her recent dreams concerning Black had started flashing involuntarily and inopportunely through her head as soon as she'd laid eyes on him. It was terribly inconvenient, and Hermione sought forcefully to push the images from her mind.

"How much did you hear?" Potter asked Black with a sigh.

"Tell me what the fuck is going on with Remus, and why the fuck you two," Black gestured angrily between Hermione and Potter, "think I don't deserve to know about it. Anything to do with Remus is my fucking business just as much as it is yours Prongs. I'm the one whose idea it was to—"

"Padfoot!" Potter broke in sharply, cutting his eyes warningly at Hermione in a way that he probably, but mistakenly, thought was subtle. She narrowed her own eyes. Whatever Black had been about to say out of anger, he clearly would have regretted saying it in front of her. Apparently Potter and Black were keeping their own set of secrets when it came to Remus.

"What is this, Prongs?" Black continued, his agitation seeming only to build. "I didn't even know the two of you were on speaking terms, much less having fraught discussions about Remus and my 'emotional state', " he spat. "Is this an intervention?"

Potter sighed. "Fuck, mate, maybe it should be," he said tiredly. "Have you been drinking again?"

Black didn't exactly bother to deny it. "Don't change the subject Prongs, you can lecture me later," he said. "Tell me what's going on with Remus."

Potter looked worriedly at Hermione, almost as if he was seeking her permission, his panicked glance reminiscent of many she had seen from Harry, who had obviously inherited his ability to be incredibly awkward in difficult social situations directly from his father. Hermione sighed, waving her hand in a gesture of helpless acquiescence; it wasn't as though there was anything they could do to get around Black finding out now. How had this all blown up so spectacularly in her face, she wondered? Having to deal with Black's emotional volatility was what she'd sought to avoid by talking to Potter in the first place. Now it seemed she was going to get no choice in the matter.

Hermione left it to Potter to summarize the 'Snape/Remus situation' (as she'd taken to thinking of it) for Black, only jumping in occasionally to clarify a point.

"I'll fucking kill him," Black said darkly once Potter had finished, seeming disturbingly serious. His fists, Hermione couldn't help but notice, were clenched and shaking. He was clearly seething with barely controlled rage and ,frankly, it was exactly the sort of reaction she'd expected from him. "If Snivelly so much as comes near us on Sunday I'll fucking maul him to death myself, Remus won't have to do anything."

"That's too far, Sirius!" Potter said sharply.

Hermione, for her part, merely frowned, mostly as a result of the violent content of Black's words, but also because of their other implications. "Why would either of you be anywhere near Remus on the full moon?" she wanted to know. "Even you lot can't be that stupid, or you'd be dead already."

"That's what you think," Black retorted hotly.

"Sirius, enough," Potter snapped. "Of course we won't be anywhere near Remus on the full moon," he said firmly, glaring at Black all the while, as though desperately willing his friend to refrain from opening his mouth again for the remainder of this conversation. Hermione's own frown deepened, Potter's negative assertion recalling for her that scene from one of the Star Wars films, she couldn't remember which one, with the Jedi Mind Trick; these aren't the droids you're looking for. Because despite the decisiveness of his denial, she had the intuitive, uncanny feeling that Potter was somehow lying.

"And we won't do anything stupid, either," he went on to assure. Despite this, Hermione remained unconvinced and unsettled.

"I rather suspect, Potter, that you already have," she said shrewdly, various suspicions beginning to coalesce in her mind. "See that you don't do anything, else, will you? And see if you can't keep this one," Hermione gestured towards Black without looking at him, "more in line than you've succeeded in doing tonight."

Black muttered something presumably hostile under his breath in response to her directive, but both she and Potter ignored him.

"I'll see if I can manage that," Potter said tightly to Hermione, and while he wasn't glaring at her, he didn't look entirely happy with her either. She nodded, leaving Black and Potter to it. Hermione had a feeling the two of them were about to have a very tense, very hushed argument the moment she was out of earshot. Had she been in possession of Harry's invisibility cloak Hermione would have happily eavesdropped, but the cloak was still James' for the time being, and therefore inaccessible to her. As it was, Hermione thought she had enough to go on anyway. Her encounter with Potter hadn't gone at all how she'd expected it to, disrupted as it had been by the unexpected, chaotic addition of Black, but it had certainly given her a lot to think about.

Black, in his anger and apparent inebriation, had almost let more than a few things slip tonight, at least judging by Potter's desperation to cut him off at various times. Hermione was particularly struck, for some reason, by Black's use of the word 'maul' in his threat towards Snape. It was such odd phrasing for him to apply to himself. Perhaps Black had simply been over identifying with Remus' wolf form and Hermione was being ridiculously suspicious, but she was now more certain than ever that the Marauders were collectively hiding something, and that it likely had something to do with Remus' condition.

As it turned out, Snape wouldn't be the only one watching the Marauders closely this coming full moon.

Lily was utterly gob smacked, and not best pleased, when Hermione found a moment alone with her the next morning to inform her friend of the previous night's developments in the Snape/Remus situation.

"You told Black?" Lily hissed through her teeth once Hermione had finished relating what had happened, green eyes wide with horrified disbelief. "Hermione! That's one of the people we explicitly agreed we wanted to avoid telling!"

"I'm aware of that, yes" Hermione said with a sigh, raising a hand to massage her right temple. It was only half 9 in the morning and she was already beginning to develop a stress headache.

Lily simply stared at Hermione for a moment, at a loss. "We've really bungled this one, haven't we," she said flatly, falling back heavily against the wall of the private alcove the two girls had sequestered themselves in and looking somewhat defeated.

"So it would seem," Hermione agreed.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Lily pressed her. "The full moon is in two days, Hermione."

"I know, I know," the muggleborn witch said fretfully. "I don't think there's all that much more we can do, honestly Lily," she admitted. "Look, you keep a close eye on Snape, and I'll keep a close eye on Black, and we'll just have to hope that neither one of them tries to do anything irreparably stupid in the next two days."

Lily shot Hermione a deeply skeptical look. "Yes, because that's seems a terribly likely outcome."

Hermione surveyed the quidditch pitch, deserted but for one other person, breath puffing visibly in front of her face in the crisp, cold, February air. She raised her right leg, propping it on a low ground wall and flexing her foot, leaning into the stretch for a few moments before switching legs. It was bloody cold, being February in Scotland, but Hermione was wearing a very thick pair of thermal leggings and two pairs of wool socks, plus she was going to be exercising, so she was fairly confident in her ability to remain outside and remain comfortable for as long as it was that Sirius Black wanted to fly around letting off steam (perhaps quite literally if he exerted himself enough).

After her stretch, Hermione began a leisurely paced jog around the quidditch pitch. She knew the exact minute Black spotted her; he stopped short in the air, pivoted, and then dived directly at her, only pulling up roughly on his broom at the last second in order to keep from crashing into the ground straight in front of her. Black's hair and eyes were both wild, and his face was red, Hermione assumed from a combination of his flying efforts and the cold. He was also glaring at her.

Hermione repressed a sigh. "Excuse me," she said mildly, once it became clear to her that Black's immediate plan seemed to involve continuing to stare at her angrily while blocking her path and saying nothing.

"Are you following me, Granger?" he finally demanded, sounding quite as angry as he looked.

"I'm exercising," Hermione told him, unperturbed.

"Outside. In the middle of winter," Black said flatly, seeming highly skeptical, which really wasn't warranted, considering Hermione actually jogged fairly regularly, even in the winter and not just when she was following Black.

"Isn't that what you're doing as well?" she pointed out.

"Cut the shit, Granger," Black snarled. "You've been tailing me all fucking day, and you're not being as subtle about it as you think you are."

"Maybe I'm not trying to be subtle, Black," Hermione said icily.

"Well what the fuck are you trying to do, Granger? Because it's a mystery to me."

"I'm trying to keep you from doing anything stupid."

Black threw his head back and laughed, but there was little humor in it. "And when did that become your job, eh Granger? Who assigned you that one? Because I'm pretty sure you're not up for it."

"You just insulted yourself, you do realize."

"I'm not a fucking child!" Black exploded. "You don't need to stand guard over me and make sure I don't do anything rash!"

Hermione remained silent, her expression alone more than adequately conveying her disagreement with this statement.

"This is ridiculous," Black scoffed. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said honestly. "But I'm certainly not going to make the mistake of underestimating you."

Black arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm flattered."

"That wasn't a compliment," Hermione said shortly. "It was a comment on your recklessness and mental instability."

Black let out another one of his loud, bark like laughs; the bitter version of it. "That's rich, coming from you Granger, the girl whom I saw interrogate and then drug a Professor right in front of me not two months ago, in service of her grand plan to, what? Bring down Voldemort single handedly?" he scoffed once more. "And people say I'm fucking arrogant."

"I'm not trying to 'bring down Voldemort single handedly'," Hermione said through grit teeth. "I'm merely trying to…gather information on what he might be doing. And you are arrogant, Black. Undeniably."

He smirked. "Yes, but only because I'm so good looking and magically skilled."

"Stop trying to deflect, I'm not that easily manipulated into dropping something, Black" Hermione said tersely. "What exactly did you mean last night when you said you were planning on mauling Snape to death?"

"I meant," Black snarled, all traces of humor abruptly gone from his face, "that if Snivellus does anything to hurt Remus, anything at all, that I'll fucking rip his throat out. With my teeth."

"Well that seems unnecessarily graphic," Hermione pointed out snidely. "Not to mention I'm surprised you'd be willing to tolerate any part of Snape in your mouth for any amount of time, even if it did result in his gruesome death."

Black blanched, looking suddenly revolted. "Now you're just ruining my fun on purpose aren't you, Granger?" he said with a grimace. "You're right though," he shook his head. "I'd never be able to get the greasy taste out of my mouth."

"This isn't funny, Black," Hermione snapped, "It's-"

"Serious?" Black cut in. Hermione sincerely wanted to smack him.

"Yes, it damn well bloody is!" she told him fiercely. "You can't just make threats like that, Black, and you certainly can't plan on following through on them in any capacity, no matter what Snape does!"

"If he fucks with Remus-" Black started, face thunderous.

"I think you want him to," Hermione interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Black. I think you want Snape to do something. I think you want him to do something so that you have an excuse."

"An excuse for what, Granger?"

"To hurt him," Hermione said simply, and Black didn't look surprised and he didn't contradict her. "It's obvious you've been itching for a fight ever since the start of term, and I think you're pleased as punch that Snape might be about to present you with what you think will be the perfect opportunity for one."

"I'm fighting with you right now," Black growled.

"Yes," Hermione acknowledged. "But you wouldn't ever hurt me, would you Black? Not in the way that you're dying to hurt someone right now."

"No," he confirmed, his voice low now, serious. "I wouldn't."

"You'd hurt Snape though."

"Yeah," Black affirmed, "and the bigoted, self-loathing, Death Eater wannabe would have it coming to him."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know who else might qualify as a bigoted, self-loathing, wannabe Death Eater? Your brother," she said nastily. "Do you want to beat him half to death as well, or is that urge only reserved for non-blood relations?"

Black reeled back as though she'd slapped him. "Bellatrix and my dear old Mum and Dad can fuck off and die immediately for all I care," he spat. "But don't talk about my brother like you fucking know anything about him, Granger."

"And maybe you don't know anything about Snape, either," Hermione spat back, scarcely able to believe, even as she was doing it, that she might, in some form, actually be standing up for the deeply unpleasant Slytherin.

"I think I know enough," Black insisted.

"So what are you going to do?" Hermione demanded, glaring up at Black, heedless of when they'd drawn so close to each other that if not for their significant height difference they'd be screaming directly into each other's faces. "I think we've safely established that you're not actually going to maul Snape to death yourself, so what are you going to do, Black? Lure him down to the Whomping Willow and hope Remus does it for you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Black said darkly, and Hermione was profoundly horrified to realize that he obviously wasn't joking, and in fact, appeared deadly serious.

She gasped, and then she reached up and slapped Black across the face. Hard.

"He is your friend!"

Black shook his head, either as a result of the slap she'd given him, in denial, or both. "Snivellus is not my friend, Granger," he said, grabbing her wrist, the one still hovering by his face, presumably in an effort to keep her from slapping him again.

"REMUS IS YOUR FRIEND, YOU IDIOT!" Hermione shouted. " Remus is your friend, and it is disgusting that you've even thought of using him as-as a weapon like that! Did you even think about what that would do to him?! If you used him like that, as some kind of pawn in your sick revenge fantasy? If you used Remus to hurt someone? It would destroy him! Not to mention he'd get expelled and thrown in Azkaban! I don't expect you to care about Snape, Black, but I would have thought you cared enough about Remus not to do that to him. Or have you somehow twisted this around in your own mind to the point of thinking that if you went through with it you'd be defending Remus? Because that's crap," Hermione said viciously.

The color had steadily drained from Black's face throughout the course of her tirade and by the end of it he was looking panicked and pale.

"I didn't think," he whispered after a moment of charged silence, looking so thoroughly devastated by the realization of what he'd been contemplating doing that Hermione found herself softening, if only slightly.

"Your actions effect other people," she told him sharply, but the look on Black's face had taken something of the wind out of her sails, and she was left feeling deflated and sad.

Black looked positively sick with himself, and Hermione was gratified, because she felt that he should.

"Your actions effect other people," she whispered, one more time.

"I don't—you're right," Black said eventually, voice thick with emotion. He was still holding her wrist, and at some point it had started snowing, cold flecks of white landing like little pinpricks on Hermione's upturned face. "Maybe we should both keep that in mind."

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She could smell Black's sweat. "I never forget it."

In the end, they told Dumbledore. Or rather, Potter told Dumbledore with Hermione's reluctant blessing (not that he'd bothered to ask for it) and to Lily's deep relief. Hermione wasn't sure what Dumbledore had said to Snape, or threatened him with, to ensure the Slytherin's silence regarding Remus' condition, but whatever he'd done had been enough to satisfy James Potter that Snape wasn't going to say anything, which Hermione supposed was good enough. James had his faults, but Hermione knew that he loved Remus and that he'd do anything to protect his friend, including throw an utter fit and likely involve his parents if he'd thought there was any remaining threat to be had from the Slytherin. And while that reeked of pureblood privilege on James' part, it was also a lot more noble than Black's attempted murder plan. So there was that.

The whole ordeal had the effect of firmly cementing Snape's eternal hatred of both Hermione and James for the role they'd each played in informing the Headmaster of Snape's threats and insinuations, but that was hardly a big loss. After all, it wasn't as though the Slytherin needed any more of a reason than Hermione's blood status and Potter's…Potterness to loathe either of them.

Lily was obviously a bit sore with Hermione over the whole thing as well, firm now in her belief that they should have just gone to Dumbledore right away, or at least a lot earlier than they ultimately had. Hermione didn't like to admit that her friend was right, but she knew she probably was. Lily could be frustrating like that. In the end, Hermione recognized that she'd been too stubborn in her reluctance to involve Dumbledore in the matter, especially since he'd ultimately found out anyway.

"It was arrogant of us to think we could handle it on our own," Lily said later that evening, in the aftermath of everything, charitably not pointing out that Hermione had largely been the one thinking that.

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a sigh.

"Even Potter thought that we should go to Dumbledore," Lily steamrolled on. "Right away when you told him, isn't that the first thing he said? That we should go to Dumbledore?"

"He did say that, yes," Hermione agreed tiredly; it was quite late by this point, and it had been an undeniably exhausting day, so having her evening topped off by one of Lily's famous lectures, no matter how deserving Hermione might have been of one right then, wasn't exactly her idea of a pleasant night cap.

It was the day before Valentine's day, Hermione remembered with a jolt, Lily's voice fading into the background. Which meant that tomorrow promised to be an exhausting day as well. The curly haired witch groaned aloud at the thought, and then belatedly felt guilty, remembering that Amos had some sort of surprise date planned for them in Hogsmeade the next day, which by all rights she should have been excited about. And she had been excited about it, previously, it's just that now she was quite tired and the very prospect of doing anything tomorrow beyond sleeping in felt quite overwhelming.

"Potter said that! Potter!" Lily was saying when Hermione reluctantly tuned back in to their conversation. Really, it was mostly Lily talking at her anyway so Hermione's participation was only very minimally required. "Even Potter thought we should tell Professor Dumbledore, and he's the most arrogant person I know!"

"Yes, well you haven't spent as much time around Black as I have," Hermione muttered.

"How'd that go today, anyway?" Lily asked, softening her tone a bit. "With Black, when you followed him earlier? After classes I mean."

Hermione sighed. "We fought," she said simply, not really wanting to get too deep into at the moment, even with Lily. It had been a very…raw conversation, one that she was still processing. "Black isn't in a good place right now."

"Is he ever?" Lily asked, more seriously than flippantly. She was chewing worriedly on her lip.

"Not since I've known him," Hermione said with a shrug. "But this is bad, Lily. I think I managed to get through to him today, at least little, but honestly, he needs-," she trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't know what he needs."

"Therapy," Lily said decisively, shocking an unexpected laugh out of Hermione. "Shit loads of therapy."

"You're not wrong," Hermione said ruefully, drawing her knees into her chest.

"Pity therapy doesn't really exist in the wizarding world," Lily said with a sigh. "Maybe with the benefit of psychological help we'd spend a lot less time hating and killing each other."

Hermione snorted. "Maybe. Then again, muggles do have therapy, and I'm not sure they're doing all that much better than us, Lils."

"True," Lily admitted. "Still though."

She paused for a moment. "So I take it you and Black had real fight then, not the banter thing you two are always doing?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Banter thing?"

Lily reached out and smacked her on the shoulder. "Oh please, you know what I mean, Hermione!"

"Yes, well," she said, a begrudging form of acknowledgement.

"Do you like it?" Lily asked, seemingly idly, not looking at her. "Fighting with Black like that?"

"No," Hermione said automatically. Lily gave her a look. "Well," she amended. "I suppose I do sort of enjoy arguing with him, occasionally. He does tend to provide a rather good sounding board for my most creative insults."

Lily smirked. "Yes, that's how I feel about Potter, as well," she confessed. "I'm going to bed now though, are you coming?"

"No," Hermione said, even though she knew she really ought to. She needed to sleep. But there were still a few things from her most recent conversations with Black that were bugging her, things she needed to ruminate on the meaning of alone. Hermione knew that even if she had followed Lily up, she wouldn't have been able to sleep yet anyway. She was waiting. Waiting for something to click. She just wasn't sure what yet.

An hour or so later, Hermione was still in the common room, so she had a prime view of Black when he stumbled through the portrait hole, obviously some level of intoxicated. She couldn't honestly say she was very surprised by this development.

Black tripped over himself a bit upon noticing her, but he didn't seem surprised to see her there either.

"Granger," he mumbled, stumbling over towards her and flinging himself down onto the sofa, jostling her. He smelled heavily of smoke and firewhiskey, she noted. "Are you going to yell at me again?"

Hermione hmphed as Black slumped against her. He seemed to be having a bit of trouble holding his head up entirely on his own. "Would you like me to?" she enquired softly.

"Maybe," Black muttered, slurring slightly and closing his eyes. "deserve it."

"Perhaps," Hermione said. "But I rather think you've had enough for one day. Where were you anyway?"

"Hogshead," Black mumbled into her shoulder, intelligibly enough.

Hermione snorted. "That figures."

"Aberforth has a soft spot for me."

"That or he just doesn't care if you drink yourself to death before you even graduate."

"Be doing everyone a favor if I did," Black said caustically, though the fact that he was still slurring took some of the bite out of it.

"Don't," Hermione said quietly but firmly. "Don't say that."

"S'true," Black insisted, slumping further over on her. Hermione rather thought that he was angling to eventually flop his head in her lap, and with how pathetic he was acting just then she rather thought she might let him.

"Well you wouldn't be doing me a favor," she said. "What if I need you to steal some more books from the Black family library?"

Black moaned, his face looking as though it couldn't quite decide between an expression that was angry or sad, and so settled on something of a mix of the two. "They're not my fucking family," he protested, his body sliding lower, head inching ever closer to Hermione's lap.

"James, Remus and Pete are my family," Black hiccupped. "Maybe Reg. Mostly James and Remus, though. They're—they're my—and I was gonna—" he shuddered, twisting in on himself painfully before sinking down so he was lying stretched out across the sofa, his trainer clad feet dangling off the ends of it. He did move his head into Hermione's lap then, and without even really thinking about it, she found herself stroking Black's hair.

He looked up at her, grey eyes suddenly wide and frantic as he reached up to clutch desperately at the sleeve of her sweater. "You can't tell them what I was gonna do, Granger, please, you can't tell them," he pleaded. "Especially Moony, it'll kill 'im that I was gonna—it'll kill 'im-an' an' Prongs already thinks I'm a fuck up, am a fuck up, but he'll be so disappointed in me, James, I can't—"

"Shh," Hermione said. "I won't tell them."

Black relaxed slightly at her reassurance, and Hermione felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. "You're more lost than I am, aren't you Black?" she murmured.

"Why do you say things like that?" Black slurred, looking up at her questioningly, seeming put out.

"Like what?"

"Cryptic."

"I'm not cryptic," Hermione insisted.

"Are," Black countered. "Who're Harry and Ron then?"

Hermione gasped, feeling suddenly cold and hot at the same time, her hand falling away from Black's face without her notice. How could he possibly know those names? She never talked about the boys, to anyone, ever. "Where did you hear those names?" she asked stiffly.

Black thrust a wobbly finger in the general direction of her face. "You!" he said, far too accusingly for a person who mere moments ago had been utterly despondent and practically crying all over her lap. "Last time."

"Last time what?" Hermione demanded, frustrated and panicking. There was absolutely no way she would have had a conversation about Harry and Ron with Black, of all people, and not remembered it. The only time she'd ever even said Harry and Ron's names out loud since she'd been in the 1970's had been—

"Last time we were here," Black mumbled.

Hermione gasped once more, this time with abrupt, heady realization. Because giant black dogs who looked like Grims weren't allowed as familiars at Hogwarts. And neither were illegal animagi.

"You stupid, clever, bastard," she hissed, hitting Black in the chest.

AN: DUN DUN DUN

So this chapter deals with what I consider to be the most disturbing element of Sirius' canon in the books, ie him luring Snape down to the whomping willow during a full moon. It's been established that I love messy fuck ups, so of course I am obsessed with this incident and the insight it gives into Sirius as a character. I've seen it treated various ways in marauder era fanfic, but I don't think it's something you can realistically minimize very much given that we know from Philosopher's Stone & OOTP that James' intervention in the matter *saved Snape's life* and that's why he had a life debt. So I do think you basically have to take it as Sirius, however impulsively and with lack of proper forethought, trying to kill Snape or at least seriously hurt him. Our boy is a MESS.

My take, because I hate Snape, is that the most horrible element of it is what Sirius did to Remus by using him that way, and I think *that* is what he would feel genuine remorse over, not so much that he'd thought about killing Snape, which I actually don't think he'd be that fussed about. Anyway, hope you liked my take on this momentous canon event!

FUN FACT since I mentioned the Hogshead: There is a shady dive bar in my area called The Hogsbreath and I am CONSTANTLY calling it the Hogshead. Not that I ever go there really because it's sketch af, but I know someone who used to bartend there so it comes up semi-frequently.

Please review if you feel the inclination, it seriously does feed my soul! Love y'all!