Chapter 18: Rumbled


Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.
—Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling


Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower


"Are you done being a moody sod, or are you going to force us to resort to desperate measures?"

Remus leaned against the doorframe of the nearly empty dormitory, hands shoved in the pockets of his school trousers. He looked expectantly over at where Sirius sat atop his unmade bed, bent low over an unfolded stretch of yellowed parchment.

"Bugger off," Sirius muttered without looking up. His eyes were fixed upon a specific point on the Marauder's Map in front of him.

Remus sighed in a usual sort of way as he entered the room to stand at the foot of Sirius's four-poster. After six years of friendship, he'd grown quite accustomed to Sirius's antics. Though James may be closer to Sirius, it had been proven time and time again that Remus was the only Marauder capable of talking sense into the mutt when he was acting barmy.

"What, are you stalking her now?" asked Remus, his voice mild despite the reprimand. "This is becoming creepy, Padfoot. Not to mention wildly out of character. Peter is convinced that you're having some sort of mental breakdown."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Remus folded his arms across his chest.

"You've been brooding long enough," Remus continued patiently. "I told you there's nothing on with her and—"

"Look," interrupted Sirius, shoving the map roughly across the bed toward Remus. "See who she's with."

Remus ducked his head to examine the map, his eyes roaming the parchment until they suddenly widened with comprehension.

"Oh."

"Yep. She's with him again," Sirius ground out. "Alone in his office."

"Sirius," said Remus, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation." Sirius snorted skeptically. "No, stop. I trust Hermione, and I thought you did too. We may not have known her long, but does she really seem like the type to get off with a professor?"

Sirius didn't respond. He continued to scowl over Remus's shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

"Honestly, what the fuck is your problem? Why has this gotten you so out of sorts? It's not as if—" Sirius's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and guilt, making Remus groan. It was a look he knew all too well. "Fucking hell, you shagged her, didn't you?" accused Remus.

"No I bloody well didn't!" Sirius retorted. Remus pursed his lips with obvious doubt. Sirius had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "We didn't, honest. But er, I might have snogged her—or tried to, at least."

"Tried to?" repeated Remus.

Sirius groaned and scuffed a hand over his unshaven face, leaving it over his eyes as he spoke. "I went to see her at her dad's pub on Sunday. We talked for a while, and—all signs pointed to go, you know. She seemed all for it at first, but out of nowhere she freaked out and Disapparated."

"You bloody prat," said Remus, shaking his head and sinking to sit at the end of the bed. Sirius looked at his friend through his long fingers, face scrunched in confusion. "You said her mum died and she had no choice but to leave America, right?" Sirius nodded. "Did you ever consider that she might've left someone behind?"

Sirius frowned and lowered his hand slowly.

"She had a life before she got here," Remus continued, "and it didn't involve either of the Prewett twins. You know better than anyone how the Prophet thrives on unfounded gossip. Wasn't there an article last winter claiming you'd gone off and eloped with Narcissa?"

Sirius laughed dryly. "'A Christmas Wedding for the Kissing Cousins' was the headline, I think. Malfoy was bloody hacked off—threatened to open a Ministry inquiry into the paper's journalistic ethics."

"My point exactly. Utter nonsense." Remus pushed the map away so that it landed in Sirius's lap. "Anyway, Professor Prewett didn't even know Hermione's name on the first day of lessons, don't you remember?"

"Er, no," replied Sirius, shaking his head. "Not everyone is swotty enough to memorize every second of class like you."

Remus cast his eyes up to the ceiling as if praying for strength.

"Fine, all of that makes sense," Sirius conceded, "but it still doesn't explain why she's been spending so much time with him."

"Bloody fuck, you're smarter than this, Sirius," said Remus, his terse tone betraying his growing frustration. Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking mildly offended. "She's Albus Dumbledore's niece! She's ace at dueling, and Prewett is an Auror. Have you ever considered that there's something far more important going on here?"

Sirius sat up a little straighter, his muscles tensing. "You don't mean—"

"You know exactly what I mean. It may not just be rumors."

They both knew what rumors he was referring to.

"But her? She's just so…" Sirius trailed away, knowing the remainder of his sentence would sound a bit sexist.

"Size has nothing to do with power, you idiot. You've seen how reflexive fighting comes to her. She's a perfect candidate."

Sirius didn't respond, instead choosing to look down at the map, his eyes unfocused and mouth turned into a worried frown.

After a long silence, Remus said quietly, "You owe her an apology, mate."

"An apology?" Sirius repeated jerkily. "You know I'm shit at those."

"Yeah, but she deserves it," said Remus. His voice had taken on a strange tone. "I just have this, this…" He stumbled over his words momentarily, as if unsure how to articulate his thought. "This strong feeling. I know it sounds mental, but I feel like Hermione is important somehow. Not just important… crucial, even. There are some types of magic that are impossible to explain, and she—"

"I know what you mean," Sirius interrupted. "I felt it the moment I first saw her, I think—when I found her all bloodied up in the Great Hall. There's something about her…" He let his sentence tail away. "I reckon that's why that article got under my skin," he added, just then realizing it himself.

"Don't mess her around," Remus said eventually, his voice unusually sharp. "Quit thinking with your knob and just be her friend, okay?"

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sirius nodded.

"I'll see you later, Pads," Remus said as he stood and walked toward the door of the dormitory. "You know the right thing to do."

As Remus pulled the door shut behind him, Sirius glanced back down at the map. Hermione and Prewett were no longer in the professor's office. After a moment of searching, he spotted them walking along the seventh floor corridor before they both came to a halt halfway down. He watched the small inked dot labeled Hermione Granger pace back and forth along the same path three times before both she and Prewett disappeared from the map entirely.

What the hell? Sirius thought, snatching up the map and holding it only inches away from his face. He examined it again to ensure he wasn't mistaken.

But both dots had completely vanished.

"Mischief managed," he muttered, pointing his wand at the map to wipe it clean before throwing himself back onto his bed and covering his eyes with his hands again.

He was tired of the mystery, tired of the constant frustration he felt when he thought of Hermione Granger.

In that moment, he craved something simple.

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, sliding his socked feet into his high-top trainers as he stood, and snatched his leather jacket from the cluttered floor.

And he knew just where to find it.


Hermione:


"Where the hell have you brought us?" Gideon asked as he gazed incredulously around the spacious room.

"That question has a two part answer," I replied, smiling at the look of awe on Gideon's face. "We're in the Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. Not many know of it because it only appears when a person is in need of its services. The room provided exactly what I requested."

"So what did you ask it for?" questioned Gideon as he explored the room. He passed a table full of dark detectors, his eyes focusing briefly on a cracked and shadowy Foe Glass before approaching the nearest bookshelf and running his fingers along the spines of numerous defensive textbooks.

"The Headquarters of Dumbledore's Army," I answered quietly.

He spun round to gape at me. "Er, come again?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time," said Gideon, eyes wide with curiosity. "Your future is fascinating, Hermione. I want to know everything."

"Everything, eh?" I repeated with a laugh. "Well, we might as well get comfortable. Pull up a cushion." I motioned to the pile of overstuffed cushions on the ground near us.

"Well?" Gideon said eagerly once we were both settled.

"I guess I should start with the night of the Third Task…"


So I told him everything—well, nearly everything, at least—from the moment Harry landed in the graveyard in Little Hangleton up until the end of my fifth year. I chose not to share Harry's full backstory, but Gideon made me promise that I'd go into detail another day. He remained absolutely spellbound from the moment I began, seeming to hang on to my every word. He gasped in horror at the details of Voldemort's rebirth, swelled with pride at the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix, and scowled in distaste when I told him of Umbridge's appointment to the very position he now held.

"Wait, Dolores Umbridge?" he interrupted. "Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office?"

"I don't know what position she holds now, but in my time she'd risen to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister."

"She's a right nasty piece of work," said Gideon, freckled nose wrinkled in disgust. "Last month she did her best to arrest an Auror in my unit for alleged excessive force. Utter rubbish. Everyone knew it was only because Williamson is a Muggle-born and he sent a Pure-blood to Azkaban."

"You don't have to tell me," I said, nodding, "and she's only going to get worse."

I continued my story, and when I described the origins of Dumbledore's Army, he actually gave me a high-five of approval.

"We were foolish," I said sadly after I finished recounting our run-in with the Death Eaters awaiting us in the Department of Mysteries. I remained vague at this point, omitting the prophecy altogether and instead using Sirius's cop-out terminology of weapon. "I should have tried harder to make Harry see reason."

"There's nothing more you could have done," Gideon reassured. Ron had repeated these exact words many times in the months following our trip to the Department of Mysteries, but my guilt never lessened. "If your friend Harry is as stubborn as you make him out to be, he would have gone with or without you."

At some point Gideon had ended up sprawled out on the ground, his head propped up on several cushions. I, too, had somehow found myself lying on my back, perpendicular to Gideon, my cushion forgotten beneath my feet. I'd been so engrossed in finally sharing my life with someone, I hadn't even noticed that I'd chosen to use Gideon's legs as a pillow. I flushed faintly at the intimacy of it, but Gideon didn't appear to be bothered at all. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed, fingers toying with a loose curl escaped from my plait.

"True," I sighed, "but everything changed after that. The battle… Sirius's death—it was a turning point for all of us."

"I can imagine," he murmured. "You made it out unscathed though, right?"

"Relatively," I replied with a shrug. "I took a pretty nasty curse, but considering the worst possible outcome, I actually got off pretty lucky."

"How so?"

"Dark magic only penetrated about a quarter of what it should have. Only my ribs were affected rather than all of my internal organs melting together."

"Your ribs… melted?" Gideon spluttered. I felt his muscles stiffen against my cheek.

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds," I lied.

I thought it best not to tell him of the dozens of potions I required for weeks, of Madam Pomfrey's warning that I might need to spend my entire summer holiday in the Hogwarts hospital wing…

"I ended up with nothing more than a pretty gnarly scar. The curse likely would have been fatal if Dolohov hadn't been silenced."

"Dolohov," Gideon spat, his tone suddenly hostile. "He's been a suspect in a few instances of Muggle torture over the past year, but we haven't found enough evidence to arrest, much less obtain a conviction."

I bolted suddenly upright. "Be careful with him, Gideon," I warned sharply. "Fabian, too."

He chuckled. "I'm good at my job, Hermione."

I frowned at him. "I'm serious. He's—" I broke off, realizing it would be unwise to finish my sentence.

I turned to face him, folding my knees up to my chest. Gideon searched my face carefully, likely noting the undisguised worry displayed there.

"Oh," he breathed, comprehension dawning. "He's the one that offs us, isn't he?"

I grimaced.

"We'll be careful," he said after a moment. "But we won't stop doing our job out of fear. Like I said at St. Mungo's, you can't change everything."

I bit my lip, angry at the casual way in which he discussed his possible murder. The thought of Gideon dying was utterly unfathomable. He was my friend, my only confidant. I wrapped my arms around my knees, my fingernails digging into the delicate skin of my thighs.

I needed him.

Seeming to sense my distress, he placed a hand on one of my feet and squeezed it briefly. "You don't have to worry about us, Hermione. We'll be cautious." He smiled reassuringly. "We had Moody as a mentor. Constant vigilance is second nature at this point."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

Gideon checked his watch. "Blimey, it's already half eleven. We should probably head back."

I shook my head as if to rid it of the depressing end to our conversation.

"So much for dueling practice," I said as he stood and helped me to my feet.

He waved a hand dismissively as we walked toward the door. "Eh, next time." He held the polished wooden door open for me and whispered, "Straight back to the tower, okay? We don't need you getting a detention."

"Of course, Professor."

Another lie.

He smirked as he bid me goodnight before we parted ways.

Near the end of the corridor, I ducked into an alcove behind a dusty tapestry and waited until I could no longer hear Gideon's retreating footsteps. Once certain he was gone, I cast a silent Disillusionment charm upon myself and stepped back out into the corridor, using the dim light of a flickering torch to ensure I was well concealed. Satisfied with my spellwork, I turned in the direction of the nearest staircase, Mulciber's rough voice echoing inside my head.

'Forest. Thursday at midnight.'

I had a secret Death Eater meeting to crash.


I was only a few steps away from the second floor landing when I heard a high-pitched voice whine, "But Sirius, I've missed you. Can't you stay just a bit longer?"

I froze as the door of a broom cupboard a few paces away swung open and two people stumbled out. A petite blonde in rumpled and undone Hufflepuff robes pouted as she gazed up at Sirius, who was trying to extract himself from her embrace. After a few tugs, he managed to remove her arms from around his waist.

"It's getting late, love. Maybe another night."

The charm in his voice was undeniable, and the girl seemed to concede defeat.

"Fine," she sighed. I could sense the relief on Sirius's face even though the lamps on this landing had been extinguished. "I had a great time tonight. As always," she purred into his ear before kissing his cheek and flouncing down the staircase.

Moonlight from a nearby window threw Sirius's face into relief, and he grinned in a satisfied sort of way as he watched her go. He took a few seconds to smooth his hair before turning to head up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower. I moved hastily out of his path and pressed myself flat against the stone wall. He was almost to the foot of the stairs when he froze abruptly, his eyebrows contracting and his nose strangely rising to sniff the air like a dog. He stood stock-still for a moment. I held my breath.

"I know you're there, Hermione," he whispered finally.

I gasped.

He chuckled.

Damn it, I've been rumbled.

A scowl plastered across my face, I used my wand to silently remove the Disillusionment charm. I took the last few steps until I was standing in front of him, arms crossed across my chest.

"How did you know?" I demanded.

A faint blush briefly topped his cheeks. "Er, I smelt you. Your shampoo is pretty distinct. Like green apples."

Evidently his animagus form had bestowed him with a heightened sense of smell. I filed that fact away for future use.

"I'll be sure to toss it out later," I replied, deadpan.

"Nah, don't do that," he said with a smirk. "Green apples are my favorite fruit."

I blinked up at him.

"Well, as lovely as this little chat has been—" I began, moving my wand to recast the charm, but before my mind could form the incantation, his hand shot out, fingers gently encircling the wrist of my wand arm.

"So where are we off to, kitten?" he asked sweetly.

I gave the offending hand a hard thump with the thumb and pointer finger of my left hand, forcing him to loosen his grip. I shook him away before responding, "First of all, ew. Merlin only knows where your fingers have been."

I screwed up my face in disgust.

He roared with laughter.

"Secondly, no, no, no. We aren't going anywhere. Where I am going is none of your business."

"Ah, I thought you might say that," he said, composing himself then nodding his head wisely. "But see, the thing is—" He paused for dramatic effect. "You need me."

I felt my right eye twitch.

"Need you? And why might that be?"

"Other than the obvious, you mean?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows wickedly. I groaned quietly, and he raised both hands to shoulder height in surrender. "Only joking, only joking. You need me because although that was one hell of a Disillusionment charm, I have something better."

He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and withdrew a very familiar shining, silvery cloth. It flowed like liquid through the air as he held it out in front of me.

"James's invisibility cloak!" I gasped.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know it belongs to James?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I, er—overheard Peter mention it a few days ago," I replied nervously before diverting him with a question of my own. "So why do you have it?"

"James is a generous bloke. It's free game for the rest of us if he doesn't need it," he answered, shrugging dismissively.

"Even if you're borrowing it to get off with some Hufflepuff?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Jealous, kitten?" he whispered, smirking as he took a step closer to me.

I scoffed.

The nerve of him!

"Honestly, Sirius? Do you really want to go there? Right here? Right now?"

He deflated, his smirk immediately sliding into a grimace. "Touché."

He opened and closed his mouth silently a few times, his eyes squeezed shut as if the next words on his tongue were causing him actual physical pain.

"I reckon I'm sorry about that," he finally muttered.

Well, that was unexpected.

but not quite satisfactory.

"Oh, you only reckon you're sorry?"

He sighed and opened his eyes. Beautiful silver made my brain go fuzzy. I blinked rapidly and hoped the dark landing hid the blush creeping up my neck.

"I'm sorry I was such a prat, Hermione," he said, voice full to the brim with surprising sincerity. "I fucked up royally. I don't know what got into me."

Good enough for me.

"I reckon you're forgiven, then," I replied, flashing him a quick grin.

His eyes lit up instantly.

That was far easier than anticipated.

Hadn't I intended to use this row as an excuse to distance myself from him? I found it troubling how easy it was to forgive him. Being his friend was as simple as breathing, and nearly as essential. But why? I barely knew this version of Sirius.

I decided to explore these disconcerting thoughts at a later date. I forced my expression to match my stern admonition. "But for the record, if you so much as imply that I'm a slag again, you'll know first-hand how it feels to have your bollocks vanished."

He winced. "Not exactly my finest moment, I'll admit."

"Nope. Especially since you were dead wrong. I mean honestly, Sirius, you believed the bloody Prophet over me. Wait, no—that's not quite accurate. You refused to even hear out my side." I pursed my lips and eyed him appraisingly. "Who finally set you straight? Remus or Lily?"

"Remus," he admitted, shuffling his feet guiltily. "The ever-present voice of reason in my life. You may not have noticed, but I tend to overreact on occasion."

I rolled my eyes.

He grinned at me.

"So—friends?" he asked hopefully.

"I suppose," I replied, "at least until the next time you muck it up."

"Fair enough," he laughed.

We locked eyes, and an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between us: Don't mention the kiss and neither will I. We continued our silent eye contact for a moment longer before we both nodded in unison.

His eyes flicked to my lips before he looked away.

"Now that's settled," he began, moving closer to my side and throwing the invisibility cloak over both our heads. The awkward air between us had dissipated completely. "What's the plan?"

I realized I had no choice but to allow him to accompany me. It would be wise to have backup in case things went sideways, right?

"On a scale of one to ten, how stealthy would you say you are?" I whispered as we descended the staircase together. His fingers brushed against mine with every step we took. I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

"Er, why?"

"How about your tracking skills? Concealment and disguise wouldn't hurt, either."

"Get to the point, kitten."

I looked over and grinned mischievously. "I have good reason to believe that a group of mini-Death Eaters will be holding a meeting in the Forbidden Forest in approximately—" I checked my watch, "ten minutes. And I intend to spy on it. You in?"


(A/N): An update in less than two weeks? Whaaaaat? It's a shorter chapter than usual, but I thought this was a good place to leave it. I also wanted to post the next chapter quickly so you guys would trust that I'm not abandoning it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

I hate using author's notes to reply to reviews, but I thought it necessary to clarify a few points. To the guest reviewer that claimed Hermione should have her own vine wood wand because she used it during the Final Battle: No, I'm afraid you are mistaken.

Hermione's wand was confiscated — along with Ron's wand and the blackthorn wand Harry was using — by Snatchers before the trio was taken to Malfoy Manor, and she did not get it back before they escaped. For the rest of DH, Hermione was forced to use Bellatrix's wand. This includes the Final Battle, which is why Hermione travels to the past with Bellatrix's wand. The only other wand she could have had is Tonks's wand, but she lost it in the chaos of being tossed back in time.

Also, I'm aware that it's quite OOC for Hermione to swear so much, but this is fanfiction. As I explained in a previous author's note, certain liberties have been taken. This also includes my canon deviation of Charlus and Dorea Potter rather than Fleamont and Euphemia. I try to stick to canon for the most part, including Pottermore and JKR interviews, but I liked the dynamics of Charlus and Dorea, so I went with it.

That's not to say that Fleamont and Euphemia don't exist, though! In the GTTN universe, they're James's grandparents. James is still heir to the Sleekeazy fortune, just another generation removed.

I hope this doesn't come off as rude! I just wanted make sure we're all on the same page. I apologize if my writing has been confusing or imprecise. I'm not a professional author, y'all. I'm just some random twenty-something med student that loves Harry Potter a little too much.

Sorry for the disgustingly long note, and as always, thank you for reading :)

-liz