Hogsmeade was rainy, splattering mud on her tall boots, and the few who were out ran from one door to the next. From under her hood she watched the main street, wary of any professors or anyone who might recognize someone too young to be there. Luckily, Her face had lost a lot of its fat and her teeth had been shrunken after getting hit with one of Malfoy's stray hexes. Hermione thought she'd pass for 17 if no one looked too close. With a fist clenching a purse full of galleons inside her pocket she made to step out of Honeydukes entrance.
The only thing standing still enough to watch her was an old man across the street. His grey hair so wet and matted against his face and his hood shadowing everything else she only saw a brief flash of blue eyes before his gaze passed her and seemed to stare down the road. Satisfied no one was watching she hurried to Gladrags Wizardwear. Hermione's drenched body came to a halt next to the window with its elaborate display of fine dresses and imports from French and Italian designers. Seeing the fine cloth staring back at her she considered her odds of convincing Madam Rosmerta to use her floo and going to Diagon Alley's cheaper selection. Surely Madam Malkins would provide twice as much for twice as cheap. Only she was wet, she was shivering since halfway across the underground passage, and for once in her life she thought having something so luxurious might be nice. Her parents weren't paupers, but they were frugal. It's why she had so many galleons on her, they'd encouraged her to save from her summer jobs and she hadn't spent any of it.
Perhaps seeing her pathetic and shivering a somewhat wrinkled hand reached from behind the display she'd been staring at and opened the door.
"Oh dearie come in. Even if you don't buy anything warm up with a cup of tea."
Shoulders raised as if she could curl in on herself and teeth clinking against each other Hermione turned to step in. Walking on the street beside her a pair of men stopped, but Hermione couldn't care less about them as that had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever offered.
"Thank you," She stepped forward.
"Of course. What am I going to do simply watch you drown?"
The old woman greeting her inside had the softest voice and prettiest face. Those two men who walked by the window and caught glances of her face misstepped and promptly slipped in the mud outside the door.
They stood again, abrupt and gawking. Their stares of envy, and lust plain as day even to Hermione. Seeing it her lips tilted down. The shop woman made an annoyed "tsk tsk" and firmly shut the door in their faces.
Hermione commented, "That was...rude...of them."
"It's part of my nature dear. I'm afraid I've been putting up with their ilk since I was a child."
"Do you mind me asking why they were so, so like that?"
"Foolish? Uncontrollably horny?"
Hermione's cheeks might have burned if she was a first year, but she'd had a few encounters with muggle boys over the summers and "uncontrollably horny" seemed a perfect description. It may be natural but it wasn't fun to and have tented trousers be a regular response to short shorts. Hermione grimaced on the older woman's behalf.
"I can't imagine how tired I'd get of it. I'm sorry to hear that's regular for you."
The older woman waved her off, "Veela." As if this said an entire book's worth. It really did.
"No wonder your clothes are so popular with the purebloods."
The grin was wicked sharp. "Oh most have no idea who Gladrag is. They'd die if they bothered shopping early Tuesday or Wednesday."
Hermione's grin twitched and she took down her hood.
The Veela arched a brow, eyes wandering her hair and lingering around her neck. "You are an interesting little thing. Come, I can now see why your threads are thinning. How often are you wearing those?" Before Hermione could answer she was led into a dressing area lined with mirrors and settees. Her coat gently removed itself with a wave of Gladrag's hand. Another wave brought out a tea set. She didn't wait for a response before pushing a teacup to her. Hermione's cold fingers wrapped around as a pot lifted to pour itself.
"Now tell me about your problem. Is it just this outfit you've been wearing thin or is it all of them? And do you have a budget?"
"All of them and I'm not sure, probably yes."
The older woman hmm'ed, eyeing Hermione's form and without pulling out any of the mundane measuring tapes sitting in the nearby basket waved a hand and uniforms and dresses floated forwards. Declaring, "These should fit. You'll try them on."
When Hermione's eyes widened at the sheer quantity Gladrag pushed on, "Dear, you can spare an hour yes? We will have to finish the sewing, but you'll be able to walk out in something and the rest I'll send via post. Do you want runes stitched on the hems?"
She only then noticed there weren't curtains here and Hermione didn't realize why until she'd been changed. Her wet, thinned, and clinging clothes replaced by something dry. The softest something she'd ever worn. Oh there goes her last summer's savings. Yes, she'd be walking out of the store with something. A giddiness, so rare for something like clothes, came over her and she thought this might be a bad habit forming. Sort of like that bottle of firewhiskey Flint special ordered and brought to Yule, some things were just more enjoyable than others. Damn it, she liked these clothes. What was wrong with her?
Hermione blinked. The hour seemed to pause and then lurch to the end. In between was talking and many sets of clothes changing themselves so Gladrag could see what looked best on her, but Hermione would be hard pressed to recall much of it later. Hermione would have to remember to adjust her schedule for a sleep day and then a relax day. Shopping had put off homework, classes, and everything else.
"I know what we're getting you. You look lovely in deep lavender, gold, and red."
She blinked again when her latest clothes were replaced with fitted silky ones. So sleek and somehow warm. Hermione felt an insatiable need to know what runes the woman stitched on the more expensive clothes, and just what they could do if the basics were already this great.
"Oh and the uniforms." She waved her hand as an afterthought. The Gryffindor standard appeared, though Hermione wasn't at all sure they were standard, by the look of them not.
"I- thank you. I didn't know they'd be so nice. Let me grab some more money and-"
"You get a deal this first time. Just keep coming back. It's refreshing to have a young lady in here with her head on straight. You might not know, but you're doing incredibly well."
"Oh, well I, if you're sure." Hermione's face faltered then heated as the words sunk in.
"I'll be here for a long time dearie. Ingratiating myself to another generation can only help me."
Smiling she promised, "I'll drag some others along next time."
The old woman cackled and shooed her back out to suffer the rain. It's sound followed her out and carried like a hot blaze through the terrible weather. Still echoing when the door had been shut the cackle only quieted when Hermione got most of the way across the road. By now the rain came down in sheets heavy enough to blur her vision, making the buildings dark and indistinct. Not a single person was walking. The only person around at all was the shrouded figure in the direction she ran. Getting closer she recognized him. That same old man with his grey hair and blue eyes. He'd moved. Now standing under the Honeydukes awning, he didn't seem to be paying her or anything else attention. As she walked by she was so fixed on reaching the protected door she didn't notice him slip behind her.
She'd taken another two steps when a large hand clamped over the lower half of her face. A second one tucked around her, snatching her cleanly off the cobbles. It slipped down her wrist and plucked her wand from her sleeve. As she opened up her mouth to bite he spun them. A sharp crack and she was pulled away.
Sirius shivered. It was so dark, so cold today, the dementors hung a bit closer to the village and their proximity seeped through his lungs. He lingered near other people, knowing the mix of their presences would confuse the creatures. The dementor induced cold and the whispers they put in his head had him double guessing everything around the small village, gloomy and full of shadows as it was. His paranoia made him twitch.
Then he imagined Hermione in the middle of the rain, cloaked and appearing from nowhere. The one who wrote letters till she got a response. The one who ordered money from a muggle bank just to pay the fees. The one who got thrown in the lake by a half Goblin. Just imagining it made his chest lighter. She couldn't really be in Hogsmeade. Yet there in the rain and gloom she appeared. He'd noticed her immediately. When Sirius lost sight of her he was almost relieved, if not agitated with his own mind.
How often had he thought about transforming at Hagrid's hut, trying to talk to her there, but while the half giant was slow Hagrid was strong and the anti-apparition wards went far into the forest. Sirius knew he needed her to work this out. She needed to be half convinced he was innocent before he approached her for help. So he let her talk and nudged particularly poorly researched Daily Prophet articles her way. Like a mechanical trap her mind took the pieces and slotted them.
Her quick mind was working through most of his problems anyway, finding out the steps he'd need to claim a trial, what bloody paperwork would be submitted, what sort of evidence they'd need for a missing trial and to overhaul a preclusive sentencing. The time was never right. When things were less foggy he understood he needed to give her this time to figure it out before he approached her, so she'd be amenable and able to help.
He'd been so patient, had learned just how much he'd have to do if this all went right. Only today was foggy, his thinking was glitching and hurtling with paranoia. It was cold and wasn't she always warm? He was imagining her right there appearing in the storm and walking from a clothes shop of all places. He couldn't wait. He needed to speak with her. She would make him think straight again. She'd talk, or write letters, or tell him if the plan he half remembered was bullocks.
Today she was in Hogsmeade, outside the protective wards, and he had to have her.
The spinning popped them somewhere darker. Here daylight was even dimmer, the air stuffier. The man, who she was beginning to suspect wasn't so old for how easily he still carried her legs dangling. She could just see the glint off of the rain covered hand over her nose and mouth as she tilted her chin and bit into the flesh as hard as she could.
The voice grunted above her. Then it murmured and she felt a stinging hex hit the soft skin under her neck.
She hissed, releasing the hand, it came away wet with rain and ringed with teeth marks.
The voice growled, "None of that."
The arm tightened around her. His form towered over her, pressed hard against her back. The form bending down to speak in the air above her head. His breath tousled her hair.
His bark was harsh and disused, "Try something like that again and-"
She'd never felt so small and for the first time all term she hated how short she remained. Only then she remembered the acromantulas and the basilisk. She was small compared to them too. She didn't wait for his threat.
Her hand moved and a wandless slicing hex shot back towards his neck. He grabbed her hands, catching them close. Her heel stomped down as much weight she could throw, digging into a boot. Her hands full of bluebell flames skirted his arm and the robes behind him. He pushed her to the wall hard. Her head knocked stone and she turned in time to see him using her wand to extinguish her flames, then flick up and stop his bleeding neck. She shot another slicing hex but he side stepped. Hermione knew she had an advantage as long as she acted fast. She shot spells again and again. All of them blocked or dodged. She held the upper hand until he started shooting back. He was fast.
She moved faster, cast stronger, but his spells matched hers and nearly overpowered. As he dropped his human transfiguration she became frantic. For the man was none other than Sirius Black.
"Bombarda!" Stone burst from the wall where he'd just been standing.
She'd been practicing that one for days. That and the creature defense charms. However, as pretty as Hermione's patronus was it wouldn't do her any good here. Her pride over learning those wandless spells greatly damped with the awareness they weren't enough. She was too slow without her wand. Heck, with her wand Hermione knew she'd be too slow. He was simply too quick. Then in some variation of a silent incarcerous he'd bound her hands up to her elbows and tied them to her waist. They were so tight in front of her and bent at odd angles she doubted she'd be able to catch herself if he pushed her, let alone do any spells. Yes, wandless casting was mostly about intent, but it also required movement to direct the magic through the body network. He stood before her, carrying not just hers but a second wand. Hermione's gaze lingered on the wands, assessing them dubiously then flicked back to his face. Not sure where she should watch or if any of it would help her.
All her work and it wasn't enough. She stared at him. Feeling at once confused, righteously angry, and quite a bit of fear as she watched Sirius Black place himself to block her exit. He stood solidly between her and the cave opening. It's dim light showed grey clouds. Wherever this cave was it appeared to be above a tree line. They were up high. Hermione swallowed. She hoped she was still in Scotland. The rain at least was still pouring, so it might be the same cloud system. Her eyes snapped back to him at his next demand.
"Fuck. How old are you?"
The snarl twisted his face and mirrored his photo from the papers. It was a mixed expression which always confused her. It looked angry and a bit scared, the frantic nature of it more apparent now they were face to face. Her brows tilted together.
He snarled again, "Not Harry's age that's for damn sure. The fuck they're teaching you..." He muttered off. His last few words ending in, "Wandless magic... illegal unless..."
Illegal unless a Goblin offered to teach her. Just like a Wizard was allowed to learn the incredibly destructive field of curse breaking if a Goblin offered to teach them. Curse breaking and wandless defensive charms are what made the Goblin rebellions the primary threat to the Wizard defined social hierarchy. Winno and Flitwick had told her all about it, a history lesson far more detailed and gory than what Binns provided. This said, Hermione didn't want to bring the Ministry's scrutiny down on her teacher or friend. The Ministry had never been gentle and occasionally didn't even follow their own laws. Sirius Black now had a clue to one of her secrets and she hated he'd forced her into showing it.
She wanted to demand answers, but wasn't at all sure it wise to speak. Her lips felt numb as they clamped together. As if the action could keep her insufferable slips, of talking, to herself. No, as long as he kept muttering to himself it was probably best not to drag his attention back her way.
He continued to mutter, "Godric I've messed up."
The hand holding her wand ran through his long hair, then straightened his robe. The illusion of the old man's robe disappeared just as the grey hair had. In its place his black wet hair clung to his face and shoulders. The robe around them hung loose and not quite buttoned. It didn't fit him at all, draping open like he'd stolen it and thrown it on as an afterthought. She shifted her foot backwards, glancing towards the entrance.
"Hermione I have a story for you."
Well if that wasn't the shitting creepiest thing she'd ever heard. He knew her name. No this wasn't good at all. Her foot shifted again, readying if he came any closer. She might be able to surprise him and run passed.
"I'm sorry I hurt you. If I'd meant to I would have taken you somewhere a lot worse than this."
Her hands were shaking beside her and she had to clasp the sides of her robe to make them stop. Think Hermione. Think. The silent demand rang through her head, but for the second time in her life her brain failed her. She thought she'd gotten over this after the troll. Had sworn she'd never be scared frozen again. Her hands were still shaking and she went again and again through the wandless magic she knew. The elf spells only required a snap of the fingers, much less motion than the goblin variety. What could she use? Dusting? Polishing wood tables? Would house keeping spells even work on skin? Alphabetizing books by author and title. Useless. The werewolf "dox" was essentially a nose disorientation gas field to place around a property. Yes that one was quite pungent. It might work. Slowly she shuffled, she only needed another half meter till she got a clear run to the opening.
His head snapped up and she went stiff. Her back straight, shoulders tight. He eyed her, his grey eyes and wet hair gleaming in the gloom. Her wand swished in his hand. Her arm jolted even closer to her chest, afraid he'd just tried to curse her. But the curse passed Hermione and next to her a fire erupted. It was warm against her legs but not burning. She glanced down at it before training her watch back on him.
"I was an auror you know. I knew procedure and the moment they threw it away I knew I was done bad."
Hermione didn't know why he was telling her this. She didn't know why she was here. But it'd be foolish to throw away information freely given, so she listened.
"My best friends were James and Lilly Potter. I didn't have much of a family, so they became mine. Blacks by nature are protective, fiercely so. James and Lily were my siblings. My family. I would have died for them a thousand times over. There was a prophecy Dumbledore told them about, one Voldemort would target them for. The Dark Lord was coming so they were to hide under a secret kept location. They wanted me to be the only one who knew where they were, to keep their location locked inside me. That's a charm you know. Damn good at them you seem. Maybe you've heard of it." He muttered a bit to himself.
"But I thought I was too obvious. Voldy would have known it was me. So I suggested Peter. Our sweet little Peter who we'd saved so often from bullies. Saved him so often, some of his tormentors probably started to see us as the shits. Peter was the Secret Keeper. And the only way the Dark Lord found them..." She noticed his slip up of using inconsistent vocabulary. This along with his muttering made her think he needed a mind healer. The magical world was famous for them, at least those in the old families, homes where legitimacy, the imperious curse, and other mind attacks were more common or feared. Watching him now she decided yes he needed a mind healer.
"I found them dead. Did they say that in the papers? I felt the Fidelius break. I was the first Order member to arrive, but when I came out with baby Harry several others had come. I always thought it was weird how they all saw me. Saw me crying and saw little Harry all curse scarred, his toddler body leaking the darkest magic, and instead of taking us to St. Mungos they gave Harry to the Groundskeeper. Now that's weird isn't it? I've been thinking about that for 12 years and it wasn't till I overheard you talking with Hagrid that I knew I wasn't barmy. Well not all barmy. If they thought I did it, why did they let me go then and there. I talked about finding Peter and no one thinks this is strange. They let me go. They should have taken us both to the hospital."
He heaved a great breath. Hermione noted how it rattled. There's something wrong with his lungs. It sounded painful.
"Peter never was hard to find. I found him there on that street full of muggles as easy as I found him here pretending to be a pet rat."
His words alarmed her. At first because a wanted man was talking about finding the man he wanted to murder. Then the rest of his meaning sunk in and... and... 12 years...pet rat... missing finger. Holy cow in a temple. Neither option were good. They were both very bad. She only felt slightly mollified that one of the possible murderers was a pet rat who'd been sleeping in her friend's bed because at least the rat wasn't here too. Damn animagus. Maybe there was a charm to identify an animagus. She really should ask Flitwick.
"I found him. He screamed some lies, cut off his own finger, and blew up the street. He's been hiding ever since, but he's here at Hogwarts and I need your help."
"Vow on your magic, " Hermione demanded, although her voice came out meek and wanting. Demanding like a muggle bunny might demand something from a grim straight out of divination nightmares. It was the first thing she could think of to keep him talking.
Then to her surprise the man and convict who'd been running the country ragged raised his wand and solemnly stated, "I Sirius Orion Black swear on my magic that everything I've told Hermione this morning is true. I was not the Potters Secret Keeper. I did not kill those muggles. I am not a follower of the Dark Lord. I did not receive a trial before being thrown in Azkaban." He looked at her, "And I swear to you Hermione if you help me I will make it so you never have to work another day in your life."
His gaze was so intent as the magic flashed over him.
She squeaked, "What do you want me to do?"
A swish of his wand and the modified incarcerous dropped from her arms. Ropes pooled at her boots before they began to dissolve.
"Write another letter to that lawyer. Say you're now the Spokesperson for the Ancient and Noble House of Black and that if they're willing to request a trial on my behalf I would be able to provide law enforcement with the very much alive and traitorous Peter Pettigrew. Anything else they need you'd have to arrange or tell me about."
Her teeth were clenched, but not so much from fear anymore. The shock had done away with that, leaving only the anger and empathy she'd had when she first discovered a person could be in a penitentiary for 12 years untried. Her eyes followed his hands as he, effortless and without a word, conjured a thick metal cage. He wove another hand over it, adding something. An unbreakable charm?
"Then I want you to catch Peter Pettigrew, put him in this, and if the lawyer agrees deliver his rat form to the ministry. You mentioned you wrote to Madam Bones previously yes?"
He stepped forwards and her fingers grasped the cage. Next he grabbed her hand. His were impossibly warm in this dank cave and she realized she'd been shivering something fierce. His calluses rubbed her palm as he placed the wand back in her hand.
"Please."