Chapter 10: Sensitive Material
Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid—
— Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling
"Alright boss, what's the plan?" I asked Sirius as we approached the middle of the third floor corridor. No matter what he had in mind, I was willing to bet my wand it was destined to be a terrible idea. However, after the emotionally trying day I'd had so far, I was feeling a bit reckless.
Harry would be so proud.
"Boss?" he snorted as he withdrew his wand from the pocket of his robes. "No, no, more like—partners in crime." He shot me a roguish grin and placed his dark gray wand between his teeth. He began shrugging off his school robes, and I couldn't help noticing how nice his school jumper looked stretched across his toned chest. I supposed swinging a Beater's bat was good for the pectoral muscles.
"Does this little escapade require us to be starkers?" I asked, arching an eyebrow as his robes fell to the floor of the corridor.
He snorted again, but his wand prevented him from responding. He opened his school bag and pulled out a thoroughly well-worn black leather jacket. He slid it on and fetched his robes from the ground, balling them up in a disorderly fashion and shoving them into his bag. He finally removed his wand from his mouth, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Nope, just sans-school robes," he said with the same charming grin. He gave me a short nod. "Your turn, kitten."
Despite knowing I would surely regret it later, I rolled my eyes and let my school bag fall to the ground beside me. I unbuttoned my robes and slid my arms from the sleeves, grateful for the long-sleeved jumper I wore beneath them. As I adjusted my skirt, I noticed his eyes travel from the top of my head to my toes and then back again.
Boys.
"What next?" I questioned as I knelt onto the stone floor, folding my robes neatly and stowing them away. I tossed my hair over my shoulder as I picked up my bag and faced him again.
He held out his hand to me. "Your bag."
I merely looked my confusion.
He raised his eyebrows and crooked the fingers of his outstretched hand as if I were being thick. "Just pass me your school bag."
Wordlessly, I removed my bag from my shoulder and placed the leather strap in this hand. He slung it across his body next to his own. He then glanced from side to side down the corridor, as if checking to see if the coast was clear. "Come closer," he whispered, turning to face the stone wall and gesturing to the spot beside him.
"Sirius, what—"
"Shhhhh." He closed his hand around my wrist, pulling me flush with his side.
"Did you just shush me?" I whispered, half affronted, half of me beginning to think he'd gone mental.
"Just wait," he mouthed as he withdrew his wand from his pocket.
It was then that I realized where we were and what he was about to do.
"Dissendium," he muttered, tapping the tip of his wand to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch in front of us. The kyphosic hump of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor opened, revealing a small entrance. I wasn't even sure Sirius could fit through it. "Wait ten seconds and then follow me, okay?" he whispered, tossing both of our bags down the hole. "I'll be waiting to catch you at the bottom." Before I could voice the objection on my lips, he climbed smoothly through the opening in the witch's hump, disappearing from sight.
"Sirius," I admonished in a hiss—but he was already gone. I glanced quickly up and down the corridor. What was I meant to do now? I couldn't leave the castle. But I knew he was waiting for me, along with all of my books.
I heaved a sigh.
Oh, sod it all.
I carefully placed a foot on the stone base of Gunhilda's statue and hoisted myself up head-first into the entrance of the passageway. I nearly shrieked as I descended what seemed to be a long, stone slide. Sirius was waiting at the bottom, but rather than sliding into his arms as he had promised, I collided with him, limbs flailing as we tumbled forward.
He fell back against the earthy ground as I landed on top of him, wrapping his arms around my middle to steady us both. He smirked up at me. "I guess I should've warned you to come down feet first, eh?"
Our faces were inches apart. "Yes, you bloody well should have!" I hissed breathlessly. "Or at least warned me that I was about to take a ride on the slide of doom!"
He roared with laughter and rolled over so I was pinned beneath him. For a short moment, he stayed, his body pressing heavily against mine. I could feel every contour of his muscles, every expansion of his lungs. He then planted his hands on the ground on either side of my head, raising himself up to hover over me. His breath was warm against my face and smelled pleasantly of spearmint. "Let's get going then, shall we?" he said nonchalantly, as if this sort of thing were a daily occurrence. He pushed off from the ground with a small huff and stood, holding out a hand to help me to my feet. Still in shock, I blinked up at him for a moment before accepting.
"We should leave our bags," he stated decisively as I stood. "We'll have a load to carry back anyway, so we'll be better off without them." I adjusted my disheveled uniform and attempted to flatten my disorderly curls. He grinned and reached out, tugging on the end of one particularly rebellious ringlet.
"A load to carry back?" I asked, my face coloring at the intimate gesture.
"Don't question it, love," he answered cryptically as he tossed our bags into the corner of the dark passageway. Turning back to me, he withdrew his wand and muttered, "Lumos." The tip of his wand shone brightly like a Muggle torch, and I followed suit. The light from our wands illuminated the earthy walls of tunnel before us. It was cold and damp with a low, sloping ceiling that grazed the top of Sirius's head. The passage seemed to go on for ages, and was so narrow, our arms brushed together with every step we took.
"I don't like mysteries, you know," I told him as we walked. I stumbled slightly on a patch of uneven earth, and his hand shot out quickly to steady me. Ignoring my second Tonks-like moment of clumsiness of the day, I continued, "I'm the type of girl that always likes to know the plan."
He snorted, evidently assuming he already had the measure of me. "Of course you do, kitten. But you've got to learn to live a little, have a few adventures." He opened his arms wide in a grand gesture. "Mysteries keep life interesting."
Oh, don't I know it, Sirius. My entire existence is a bloody mystery right now.
"Live a little?" I scoffed. "I'll have you know that I've had plenty of adventures."
"Oh really now?" he asked, turning to me with interest. "Like what?"
I paused, halting our progress down the tunnel. I tapped the tip of my nose with my index finger, looking up to the earthy ceiling of the tunnel as I debated which story to share. There were very few I could safely discuss. "Well..." I said slowly, building anticipation. I resumed the walk down the tunnel abruptly, leaving him standing behind me. He rushed to catch up. "I fought a troll during my first year of school—and won."
Might as well start from the very beginning.
He let out a disbelieving chuckle. "I'm sure you did," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I'm Britain's best bloody dragon trainer."
"Well, I'm not a dragon trainer," I said with a small laugh. "But I have ridden a dragon before."
He stopped walking suddenly and reached out to grasp my forearm. He eyed me through furrowed brows. "You're actually serious, aren't you? Not taking the piss?"
"As serious as your name," I answered flippantly, enjoying the easy pun as I pulled my arm away from his grip and continued down the passage. It took me a moment to realize he hadn't followed me. I stopped and turned to find him still standing where I left him, his lips moving soundlessly.
"Holy shit," he said when he found his voice. "That duel—and now a dragon? You're a total badass!"
"I don't know about 'badass', per say." I tapped my nose again as if in contemplation. "But yes," I concluded with a wicked grin. "I suppose I have done some pretty interesting things in the past."
—or the future.
He shook his head in disbelief. We continued our journey down the passage in silence for a moment, before Sirius asked suddenly, "So are you going to tell me how you ended up on the back of a fucking dragon, or were you just planning to leave me here in suspense?"
"Nope, that's a story for another day, I think," I answered in an unconcerned tone. He let out a low growl of frustration, and I could tell he hated being told no. "But I suppose I can tell you about the time we fought the troll."
"Well go on then," he said, his tone betraying his eagerness.
"It was October of my first year of Ho–Ilvermorny—Halloween, actually. I missed the feast because a stupid boy in Charms teased me for being a know-it-all." I ignored the sharp pang deep in my gut as I thought of Ron. Holy hell, I missed him so much it physically hurt.
"I ended up crying in the loo for hours," I continued, shaking my head. "I was about to head to my dormitory when a twelve-foot bloody mountain troll came strolling into the girls' lavatory. I nearly fainted, and not just because of the smell of him. I screamed my head off, and two boys in my year came running to help. We ended up fighting the damned thing. Harry leapt onto the troll's back and shoved his wand up its nose, and Ron levitated the troll's club onto its head, knocking it out cold," I paused, smiling faintly at the memory. "And we've been best friends ever since."
"Son of bitch," said Sirius with a low whistle. "You could've been killed. How the hell did a troll get into a school?"
"Ah, that's also a story for another day," I replied cryptically. He shot me a look. "Hey, if you're allowed to be mysterious, so am I." He continued to scowl, so I nudged him playfully with my elbow.
"All these bloody secrets…" he muttered under his breath. I didn't respond, instead choosing to continue down the tunnel in what I felt was a dignified silence. However, it seemed he wasn't one to remain quiet for long. "How did your friends feel about you moving away? I don't know what I'd do without James, Remus, or Peter."
I stiffened. How could I answer that question?
Oh, they don't have a clue, actually. They were murdered by Lord-effing-Voldemort and his merry gang of blood-thirsty followers right before I disappeared in a burst of time-traveling light. But hey, I imagine they'd be pretty gobsmacked if they knew who I was chatting with now.
This time, I decided on the truth—or, at least, parts of it.
"They, er—aren't around anymore," I responded vaguely, my voice surprisingly steady. I took a deep breath as I suppressed the emotions swelling inside my chest. I felt as if the poorly-patched hole there was on the verge of splitting open again.
He turned to look at me, confusion written across his face. "When you say they aren't around—" he said slowly.
"Something happened before I left, and they didn't make it," I interrupted calmly. I cast my eyes downward, watching our feet hit the earthen ground with each step. I didn't want to see the pity I was certain to find in his eyes.
We continued walking, but his hand found its way into mine. His roughly calloused palm scuffed against my own as he laced his long fingers with my smaller ones. He gave my hand a soft squeeze. "Fuck, Hermione, that's bloody awful," he said sincerely. "I can't even imagine..."
"I'm okay now, don't worry," I lied reassuringly, finally locking eyes with him. "I've had time to deal with it." The light emanating from our wands cast his face into shadow, but I was able to search his silver eyes as he gazed down at me. Surprisingly, I didn't find pity there—I saw only worry.
He shook his head in disbelief. "No one can deal with something like that on their own." He gave my hand one final squeeze before releasing it. An odd chill washed over me the instant he withdrew his hand, and I found myself missing his comforting warmth against my skin. "I know you've only been here a few days," he continued. "But you have friends here, too. We may not know each other very well yet—"
"Thanks, Sirius, really," I interrupted again, my voice falsely light. "But I promise, I'm fine." We were straying into dangerous territory, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold myself together if we discussed it any further. He seemed to get the hint, however, and decided to change the subject.
"So, I should probably tell you the goal of our little outing before we reach our destination," he said cheerfully. We'd finally reached the end of the long underground tunnel and had begun to climb the set of rickety wooden stairs leading to the exit.
"Well, I assume we're going to do something in Hogsmeade, right?" I answered, and he raised his eyebrows. "It's the only logical conclusion, seeing as we're heading away from the castle."
"Astute deduction, Miss Granger," he replied with his best Professor McGonagall imitation. However, he was unable to maintain the serious facade for long. We both began laughing as his mockingly-professional mask slipped
"Astute, Sirius? Word of the day?"
"Damn, what's with you people?" he retorted defensively. "Maybe I just have an exceptionally extensive vocabulary." I snorted and glanced at him skeptically. He glared for a moment before heaving a defeated sigh. "Fine." he conceded. "Marlene gave me a word-of-the-day calendar for Christmas. I'm a bit behind again, actually. 'Astute' was Monday's word."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but fall silent at the mention of Marlene. Honestly, I didn't want to know about the dynamics of their relationship yet. She seemed like a nice enough girl, and Sirius and I were having such a great time together. I wasn't in a rush to muck it up.
"So yeah, you're right," he continued, interrupting my silent contemplation. "We're going to Hogsmeade to procure some sensitive material."
"What sort of 'sensitive material'?" I asked, thinking of Mundungus and his unique business ventures. "We aren't trafficking black-market doxy venom or smuggling dodgy cauldrons, are we?"
"Where do you come up with this stuff?" He laughed again and bumped lightly against me as we climbed. "You have one hell of an overactive imagination. No, we're just fetching supplies for the party tonight."
"Party?" I asked slowly, arching an eyebrow at him. "What party?"
"You have a lot to learn, new girl," he replied with a smirk. "If there's any reason at all to celebrate, the Marauders throw a blow-out. The start of our last year at Hogwarts is more than enough reason to get thoroughly pissed."
We both fell silent as we approached the top of the staircase, and he reached up to open the trapdoor over our heads. "Be very quiet, okay?" he whispered into my ear. "And extinguish your wand. We have to get out of here quickly before they notice us."
Ah, we had to sneak out of the Honeydukes cellar without being caught.
Wonderful.
"Nox," I muttered as he pushed open the trapdoor. We both peered into the dark cellar. It was empty.
"Follow me," he whispered, climbing through in the opening in the floor and holding out his hand to assist me. We made our way through the maze of crates and boxes by the light of Sirius's wand until we reached the stairwell leading to the sweet shop. We had just begun our silent climb, when the door on the landing above us opened.
I froze, my pulse quickening and my stomach sinking. In the open doorway at the top of the stairs stood a goodnatured-looking middle-aged man. However, he didn't look very happy to find two Hogwarts students creeping about his cellar. The owner of Honeydukes was glowering down at us, his crossed arms resting atop his rotund belly.
Merlin's pants!—I thought wildly—We're going to be expelled! Why did I allow Sirius to talk me into coming on this stupid trip? Why hadn't I gone to the library as I'd planned? I could be happily engrossed in my Ancient Runes homework right now. I don't break school rules like this! Well, at least not on the first day of lessons. What am I going to do? I don't have anywhere to go. I'm going to end up living on the filthy streets of Knockturn Alley, begging for coin. Oh Christ almighty, I'm going to have to become a two-knut prostitute in some sleazy wizarding brothel, aren't I? Oh my God.
I was ripped from my frantic silent panicking by a booming laugh ringing throughout the cellar. The man's demeanor had done a drastic one-eighty, and rather than reprimanding us for sneaking into his shop, he was chuckling. "That time of year already, Sirius? Merlin's beard, I swear you were just here a few weeks ago for the end of term! How are you, my boy?" The man continued to chuckle as he held out his hand. Sirius grinned widely and finished the climb to the landing.
Sirius shook the owner's hand vigorously and they both continued into the shop. I hurried up the stairs to join them. "Ambrosius! Great to see you, old chap," Sirius replied animatedly, still grinning that stupid grin. He sent me a sly wink as I stood next to him behind the counter of Honeydukes.
Merlin's bollocks, Bellatrix won't even get the chance to off the son of bitch, I thought furiously. That pleasure will go to me.
"So how much will you be needing this time?" Ambrosius asked lightly as he returned to the till and began counting the Acid Pops a young boy had placed on the counter.
"Just the usual variety," Sirius replied with an airy wave of his hand as he leaned casually against the counter. "We'll pick up the lot on our way back through."
"Oh-ho, and who is this lovely young witch?" Ambrosius asked genially as he handed the boy his bag of sweets. It seemed he'd finally noticed that Sirius had an accomplice in his breaking-and-entering.
I did my best to hide my present state of fury, adjusting my expression to one I hoped was polite. "Hermione Granger, sir," I answered in a saccharine tone. "Nice to meet you."
Sirius looked as if he were on the verge of cracking a rib as he struggled to stifle his laughter. "We'd best be off now!" he said quickly before Ambrosius could respond. "Be back in a bit!" He then grabbed my hand abruptly, pulling me along behind him as we hastily departed the shop.
As the door of Honeydukes closed behind us, Sirius bent over double, roaring with laughter. I waited patiently for him to finish with my arms folded across my chest and my expression stern. "Sorry, love," he gasped, finally standing upright and wiping the corners of his eyes. "Honestly, the look on your face—I had to do it."
"I'm sure you did," I replied, deadpan. He finally forced his face to become apologetic, but I wasn't swayed.
"So is this how you treat the new girl?" I asked with an utterly gutted whimper, my face contorting with hurt. "Practical jokes, humiliation—a right riot, I'm sure." My voice grew higher as I finished and I sniffled as tears filled my downcast eyes.
Sirius was suddenly very alarmed. "No, of course not," he said worriedly as he rushed to stand in front of me and used a crooked finger to raise my chin. "Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
But I couldn't keep it going. It was now my turn to burst into giggles, leaning back against the wall of the building for support as tears of laughter left my eyes. His face rapidly cycled through expressions of remorse, confusion, and then finally to one of understanding. He began laughing too.
"Oh, Merlin help us all," he said through his laughter. "That's the second time you've pranked a Marauder." He threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. "A bloody good one, too."
I shrugged and slid an arm around his waist companionably as we turned to make our way down the High Street of Hogsmeade. "I figured it was the only way to teach you not to prank me in the future," I replied with a sly grin. "Where to now?"
"The Three Broomsticks," he said as we approached the door of Madam Rosmerta's pub. "You must be hungry, right?"
"Starving, actually."
We slid atop the tall stools at the back bar of crowded pub, and Sirius flirted brazenly with Madam Rosmerta as I waited to order my late lunch. The younger Rosmerta was even more attractive than I remembered. As I compared her to her future counterpart, I had to admit that the years had been exceptionally kind to her. I could hardly blame Ron for his boyhood crush on the curvy barmaid.
"Don't have much time today, Rosy," Sirius said cheerfully to the witch as she leaned across the bar, her ample bosom threatening to escape from her low-cut robes. "We're just here for a quick bite and to pick up a few kegs of Butterbeer and a case of Firewhiskey. So I'll take—" he paused, tapping a finger on the counter as he considered. "I'll just have the fish and chips."
Rosmerta removed a long peacock-feather quill from her mess of curly hair and jotted down Sirius's order. "You know, you can just say 'the usual', Sirius," she replied without looking up. "I know your order better than my own mum's. Two fingers of Ogden's will be out in a jiff, too." She then turned to me, giving me a once over as if judging whether I was pretty enough to be out with Sirius Black. "And I don't think we've met before," she said, holding out a pink finger-nailed hand to me in greeting. "I'm Rosmerta."
Being introduced to people I've known for years was becoming quite tiresome.
"Oh bugger, I forgot," said Sirius apologetically. He gestured to me. "Rosy, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Rosmerta—her mulled mead is the best in Britain." I shook her hand with a smile and her eyebrows rose into her hairline at the introduction.
"Granger, is it?" she asked in surprise, staring at me intently. "You must be Ab's daughter. You're the right talk of the town at the mo'. The whole pub's been dying to meet the long-lost Dumbledore."
"Yep, that's me," I replied wearily—is this the kind of reception I'm going to get everywhere? "But let's save the big announcement for another time, yeah?"
She gave a hearty laugh. "I don't blame you, hon'," she said with a wink, and with a quick suck on the end of her quill, she added, "So what'll it be this afternoon?"
I glanced over the distinctly sticky pub menu propped open in front of us, even though I already knew it by heart. "I'll have the Cornish Pasties, please," I answered after a moment of plausible deliberation. "Uncle Albus simply raves about them."
You're getting damn good at faking it, Hermione.
I wasn't so sure that was a good thing.
"Oh Merlin, those certainly are Albus's favorite," she said with another chuckle. "And to drink?"
"Just a Butterbeer," I replied, and with a quick nod, she disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchens.
"Thank you for this," I said quietly, turning to Sirius when we were alone again. "For this little adventure or whatever. I'm not generally what you'd call a rule-breaker, but I needed an escape from the castle this afternoon."
"I thought you might," he replied, then added with a grin, "and I needed an accomplice to help smuggle dodgy cauldrons, so it's a win-win for us both."
I knew that he understood my gratitude, and I appreciated his jest. After seven years of having two clueless boys as best friends, I wasn't exactly the best at discussing feelings. Exhibit A—my relationship with Ron.
Madam Rosmerta returned, sliding our beverages across the bar. Thankful for something to do with my hands, I took a long swig of Butterbeer. Not as good as Firewhiskey, but I enjoyed how it warmed my body from the inside out. As I placed the mug on the counter, I said aloud, "God, it's been ages since I've had Butterbeer. Not since—"
—Grimmauld Place. The night Remus offered to accompany us on the Horcrux hunt and Harry accused him of cowardice.
"Well, it's been way too long," I finished hastily, bringing the mug back to my lips.
"Oh come on, Granger," said Sirius with a small nudge. "We're here to pre-game for tonight's party. You can't start off with Butterbeer."
"I most certainly can," I replied, my tongue darting out to lick the foam from my lips. "And I don't plan on getting—what was it that you said?—oh right, thoroughly pissed tonight, either."
"You may say that now," said Sirius, leaning back on his barstool and giving me a knowing look. "But you've never been to a Marauders party before. Even Evans has been known to pass out behind the Common Room sofa after an especially rowdy evening."
"I find that very hard to believe," I scoffed, turning to him and placing my feet on the bottom rung of his stool.
Sirius shook his head and leaned closer. "Just you wait, kitten," he replied, eyes dancing with mischief. "Before the night's out we'll have you with a Hufflepuff tie around your pretty head, dancing on a table to the Hobgoblins."
GTTN Bonus:
2 November 1993 — The Flat Over Honeydukes — First Strand of Time
"Ambrosius, I simply don't understand why you won't tell the Aurors. Black knows about the trapdoor—he used it for years! He could've used it two nights ago to break into Hogwarts!"
Ambrosius Flume sighed heavily and looked up from his supper of spaghetti bolognese. Across the table, his wife was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, a pleading look in her eyes. He set his fork down onto his plate with a clang.
"Isobel," he replied, voice kind as though speaking to a child. "I've already told you why I won't."
"Oh, so you're still sticking with that old line?" she said with a disbelieving snort. "You expect me to believe that the Ministry tossed an innocent man into Azkaban, leaving him to the Dementors for twelve years? He killed little Peter Pettigrew and those twelve Muggles, and stood there laughing while he waited for the Aurors to cart him off! You saw the Prophet, Amb," she continued exasperatedly. "He was a follower of You-Know-Who! How else could he have escaped Azkaban without the help of dark magic?"
Ambrosius heaved another great sigh. "I just don't believe it, Izzy," he replied patiently. He removed his thick spectacles and buffed them slowly on the sleeve of his robes. "I didn't buy the Ministry's version of it twelve years ago and I don't buy it now. I knew the boy, almost as well as my own sons. There's no way he would have gone dark, just no way at all. There's got to be more to the story—"
"There is no more to the story!" she interrupted shrilly. Ambrosius returned his glasses to his nose and leaned back in his chair as he waited for her to finish. "Why else would we be trapped in here every day at nightfall?" She gestured wildly around the small kitchen of the flat they shared above their shop. "The Dementors are searching for him for a reason. He's dangerous!"
"No," said Ambrosius firmly. "I refuse to believe it, and I will not have those goons from the Ministry going over my shop with a fine-toothed comb. We would never get a second of peace if they knew about that tunnel." Isobel opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "Besides, we'd hear if the shop were broken into. I myself cast Intruder Charms on both entrances and we have Sneakoscopes in every room." He pointed to the tiny dark detector poised on the kitchen counter next to the kettle. It was perfectly still, balanced on its pointed tip.
"But, Ambrosius—"
"No," he said again, slamming his fist on the wooden table as his temper was tested. "That's the end of it, Izzy. Let it go."
Isobel gave an indignant huff as she threw back her chair from the table. She silently gathered her dishes, meal uneaten. She tossed the full plate into the sink haphazardly, red sauce splattering onto the floor, and swept from the room without another word.
Ambrosius pushed back his own chair, crossed the shadowy kitchen, and fetched a large bottle of brandy from the cupboard. He poured a tall glass and sank tiredly back into his seat. As a Dementor swooped past the kitchen window, he took a long sip, thinking sadly of the young lad he'd known all those years ago.
