She sat on the sludgy grass on the edge of the Black Lake, as good a place as any to reflect on what she'd learned. She'd taken Luna's offer to help her sift through the archives, rather than shouldering the burden alone. There wasn't much room left on her thin frame, as stretched as she was. Of course, Luna had been distracted more than once by her father's eccentric writings from the past, particularly taken by an article about the Wizengamot being corrupted by an undercover Gringotts Goblin. Their agenda was unknown to Hemione as she was too busy to read such tripe. Luna, on the other hand, was understandably less concerned about the ominous Sirius Black as Hermione was.
Luna would steal glances at Hermione as she'd take her sly breaks to read the article, hoping she'd not be caught by the diligent witch. She'd even gone as far as to read the article upside down to mask her skiving off. Unknown to Luna, she had been caught by her many times despite the Ravenclaw's clever antics. In any case, Hermione could hardly blame her. It was exceedingly mind-numbing to read through the night-time escapades of Sirius Black on the gossip pages, if it wasn't so important, she'd have thrown caution to the wind and closed the gossip pages for good as Luna had. Albeit, she'd do so with better reading material.
It was never anything of substance either, just who the handsome murderer was spotted dining with on what afternoon. Well, the articles always included the blood status of each witch and they were never clean. It was a good cover all the same, who'd ever suspect a friend of the light and a wooer of half-bloods? Hermione had found this interesting for the first six articles, then it just became drivel once again.
She'd found one article that she'd stolen while Luna was not-so-subtly skiving off her work. It was the grand edition of the Potter heir's wedding, full of pictures of Harry's parents laughing and sharing loving smiles.
Harry's mother was the epitome of beauty and grace, the standout of every picture her sunset glory featured in. As she looked at the image of her crinkling evergreen eyes as James Potter whispered secrets in her ear, she could tell they shared the warmth of Harry's eyes. Harry's eyes were as everyone had said, they did not belong to him, the wide-green eyes belonged to the girl called Lily Potter.
In the moments Harry truly shed the gloom of his haunted past, she'd be exposed to the Boy That Could Have Been. He'd smile, and the emerald orbs showed an innocence he himself had never known. That innocence belonged to her, too, she thought as she flipped through the article. She wished they'd all been a little less innocent to the danger wearing freshly pressed robes and a red rose on his lapel, to their left.
She'd give the article to Harry when he wasn't being such a git. If he never stopped, she'd pass the article to Neville, who could get a look at a picture of his parents dancing the night away together, and simply hope he'd share the article with the Boy Who Lived. There was one picture she'd be cutting out before Harry got the article though, remembering how volatile Harry had been when he'd learned of the true relationship of the Azkaban escapee and his deceased parents. The full-page spread of the wedding party showed Sirius Black howling with an arm slung around a clapping blonde in a light lilac gown, as the Potter heir tipped his bride down for a cinematic kiss.
He was the godfather of Harry Potter. The best friend of James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. The best man at the Potter wedding, less than two years before he got them killed, for a reason she knew not. He was the worst man of all.
She'd taken a second article too; except she'd gotten permission from Luna to keep this one. The most curious article of all. Everything she'd been doing, was in the search of this singular article. The trial was sure to be the most scandalous affair to rock the wizarding world in recent history. She expected weeks of coverage, accounts from any who'd been affected by the man, statements from witnesses and the final verdict granting him a new home for his penance. A home he'd escape from not too far into his sentence of a lifetime. What she got was even more shocking. The betrayal had been compacted to a short footnote, at the end of an article declaring Voldemort officially dead and Harry Potter the final champion.
"This can't be right," she said, panic present in her voice as she flipped through the final pages of the story for something she'd surely missed. Luna, who was sitting across from Hermione in the mostly abandoned library, looked up from her article to the stuttering witch with a concerned frown.
"What's not right?" Luna asked, her voice louder than allowed, as she attempted to be heard over the loudly scuffling pages. She glanced to her left, as she hoped Madam Pinch was far away from the mayhem Hermione had caused.
Hermione stopped abruptly as the last sheet fell, she lifted her golden feline-eyes to Luna, her mouth open and jaw limp. Luna's tipped head reminded her of the question she'd been asked, and the answer was short. Everything was wrong.
"Listen to this," Hermione lifted the discarded issue from the table, Luna drifted closer to hear as Hermione cleared her throat. "Sirius Black, 22, according to a source who'd been overheard by many at Hogshead Inn, had been there the night the Potters had been killed. He'd left the crime scene to go to another of his own making, killing long-time friend Peter Pettigrew, leaving only a severed finger behind, and thirteen muggles dead. Muggle authorities believe the attack to be one devised by the dissident republican group, the I.R.A."
"Sirius was found alone amongst the rubble, laughing manically and quoted as saying 'The rat bastard' repeatedly, before being led away by the Aurors. Sirius has been sentenced to life in Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew, the thirteen muggles and for revealing the whereabouts of the Potters to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named." Hermione looked expectantly at Luna, as she awaited the same outrage she felt, but Luna simply swayed her head to her readings. Could she not see the glaring issue within the lines of the story?
"What's the problem?" The wispy witch asked, as she tucked her bright blonde hair behind her ear. Hermione scoffed, throwing the offending newspaper, if you could even call it that, down on the table.
"The trial, Luna. There's nothing on it! I've checked every issue and there is nothing on the trial. Why would your father ignore one of the most important trials of this century? It's pure madness!" Hermione threw her hands up, while Luna knitted hers tightly in her lap.
"If it's not there, maybe there was none," Luna said, in a rather hard manner. Hermione wrinkled her nose, what a ridiculous notion. You know what they say of apples and trees.
"How could there be no trial? He was sent to Azkaban, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione shout-whispered to Luna, but Luna just glared at her, for a reason unknown to Hermione.
"If there was a trial, my father would have covered it. So, there obviously wasn't one. This is his job, Hermione. Do you think he'd deprive all his readers?" Luna narrowed her eyes, and it struck Hermione suddenly. She leaned back in her chair, dismantling the offence position she'd taken.
"I'm sorry, Luna. I didn't mean it to sound like I was attacking your father. I just don't understand, how could he be sent to prison without trial? It just can't be," she tried to comfort her with a smile, but the witch continued her glaring, though the fire was dwindling in her azure eyes.
"Well, it has to be. I can guarantee you won't find anything on his trial in any papers. They were sentencing so many people, maybe they just didn't have the time? Why the interest in Sirius Black, anyway?" Hermione chewed her lip, as she digested what she'd been told and debated whether to tell her the true reason. Maybe if she knew, she'd see how deadly the situation was. Maybe she'd see the dangerous position she was in by being friends with Hermione and her links to the famous Harry Potter.
"Look, I can't say exactly why. I want to, I really do – but it's not for me to tell you," as Luna nodded her head slowly in acceptance, Hermione blew the breath she'd been holding. She'd not destroyed this young friendship, yet. "Still, I think something funny is going on and this doesn't help. We're not being told the whole story."
At this, Luna agreed whole-heartedly, she held up her still upside-down article on the espionage by the hidden Goblins with a sceptical look, as if it was proof they were being lied to. Hermione smiled at Luna with a fond eye-roll. Apples and trees.
Luna left the library shortly after, and Hermione followed suit a little while later. She didn't have anywhere particular to go, as it was a Saturday and she'd work tirelessly during the week to clear her day, anticipating spending the whole day searching through the archives. Fool was she.
That was how she'd found herself alone at the Black Lake in the early afternoon, as she basked in the small ray of spring sunshine after some aimless wandering of the grounds. Even with Luna spending more time with her, she was alone. Luna was a Ravenclaw and could hardly every moment with her.
She'd hadn't planned to go to the lake. She had ventured outside, to share a surprise spot of tea with Hagrid. She'd knocked on the hut but there was no answer. Alas, like Luna, he was elsewhere. She walked and walked until she'd given up and plopped miserably to the marshy ground by Black Lake.
"Miss Granger, is it not too cold yet for sun-bathing?" She squinted up, identifying the husked voice as the one belonging to her Professor Lupin. Her cheeks flooded red and she quickly looked to the ground, she'd had trouble speaking with him since the Firebolt incident. The trouble was, she physically couldn't speak to him, her throat would shrivel as the red clouded her face when he came nearby.
Professor McGonagall had said she would involve him and when she did, he surely thought Hermione didn't trust him one bit. She had no reason to give if asked why that wasn't horribly offensive. So, she kept silent in his lessons and he never prodded her for answers. She avoided his eye contact, and he never sought her out.
"I just needed air. The castle is rather suffocating," she replied in a small voice, fingers fondled the bladed grass under her hand.
"That it can be. I found myself in need of the same thing, sometimes fresh air is the best medicine of all," Hermione looked up at the man at the mention of medicine, her fiddling stopped as she took a moment to catalogue his appearance. His sandy-blonde hair was flat on his head, and the bags under his eyes were swollen and tainted blue. He was sure to be feeling the effect of the nearing full moon if her calendar was correct, and she had ensured it was. Her professor's yellow-gold eyes followed hers as they spread across his face, she expected to see the same disappointment as during their last meeting, but his expression was unreadable. Even knowing his deepest secret, she did not know him truly. "Harry not around?"
"No. He's not," she said in a firm voice, she curled her crossed legs closer to her body. She wasn't about to tattle to her teacher. Of course, she spoke a little to Hagrid, trusting the man to keep her secrets as he's done many times before. She imagined if she asked the man to say nothing he would, but she didn't want to darken his opinion of Harry because of her. Students like Wood tended to agree with Harry, but adults like Hagrid and Professor McGonagall did the same with Hermione. Lupin nodded to her words, his hands fidgeted in the pockets of his faded grey trousers.
"You know, teenage boys are often far behind teenage girls. We rarely think beyond quidditch and chocolate. I know I didn't," his lips curled up slightly, but Hermione didn't believe him one jot. He was a bloody secret werewolf at Hogwarts, surely he thought of more important things? No, he was just trying to comfort her as it needn't take a mastermind to realise her friends had left her. Seamus Finnegan now sat in her old seat in every class before she could, and she took his previous seat beside Neville. Hermione resumed her fidgeting with the soggy grass beneath her palm, no particular interest in the direction of the conversation. "You know there's plenty of places in Hogwarts, where one can hide. Places that don't leave your bottom wet after sitting," he winked at Hermione.
"Most likely," she replied, as she gazed at the mist hovering above the black lake.
"Don't believe me? Here I thought professors were always right," Hermione watched the towering man, as his gold-ringed brown eyes shined in mirth. There were thousands of places in Hogwarts where one could hide, many she knew herself, the problem was they were in Hogwarts, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be here anymore. At least when she'd had no friends in muggle school, she'd go home to her grandmother. What did she have here? The occasional meeting with the elusive Luna Lovegood, or the odd tea with Hagrid and Fang? Her heart pleaded for home and her brain was not far behind in the pursuit.
Professor Lupin made no serious effort to leave. Merlin knows why, the conversation was anything but riveting. Sighing loudly, her professor took his hands from inside his pockets and held one out for her. Hermione's nose wrinkled, but the werewolf's eyes were severe. She gingerly placed her small hand in his and allowed him to pull her up. As the cold air hit her skirt, she realised how truly wet the grass was. It hadn't been her brightest idea to sit on the grass without testing it, but once she'd sat down, she committed to it.
Professor Lupin began walking away, he stuffed his hands into his large pockets and whistled into the open air. Hermione's pert nose scrunched, what a strange way to end the conversation. Ruth Granger would even call it incredibly rude. He stopped a few paces away and cut his whistle short, having noticed she'd kept behind, as he'd never indicated she should follow him. He raised his lofty eyebrow to her, which spurred her feet onwards.
He resumed his whistling and walking once she'd caught up to him. She followed as he whistled an unfamiliar jaunty tune while she worried her lip between her over-sized teeth. She was itching to ask him what they were doing as she'd never taken a stroll with a professor before – Hagrid didn't count, that was vastly different. They were veering further from the Hogwarts castle, which meant he wasn't escorting her back, but where were they were headed was yet to be determined. If she caught sight of the forbidden forest, professor or not, she'd leave him there. She had no desire to be chased by wild animals, today.
As they emerged from the top of the hill, she glanced at her professor, but he kept whistling as the Whomping Willow sneaked closer. She stopped short of the tree's wide-reaching branches, as the tree twisted and swayed to the tune of his whistle as if entranced by the wolf. Professor Lupin kept walking towards the tree, did he not recognise the aggressive tree? Should she say something? Would he think her a know-it-all?
Just as she was about to pull him back, he stopped, a small smirk on his lips to her before he strolled even closer to the tree. Had the man got a death wish? She wanted to scream at him but then the tree would surely awaken. He pulled his wand as he reached the carved trunk of the violent tree, his back turned from the panicked witch. Were all wizards so foolhardy? It seems all the ones she knew were, always landing trouble at the foot of her stoop. She braced on her back-foot, ready to spring forward and push the man away before his suicidal wish was fulfilled.
As her heartbeat temped up and left knee lifted, Professor Lupin turned back to wink one final wink, before he tapped his wand against the base of the tree. A strange thing happened, then. The tree stood still as if the magic had leeched from its deep roots below her. Hermione stepped back staring at the magic tree, as her jaw swung from its hinge.
"Apologies, Miss Granger. I could've told you but sometimes we all need a good scare. It's good for the heart," he said, as he lightly tapped his chest with a hidden grin. Her head whipped between the speaking man and the sentient tree, she expected his voice to anger the slumbering tree and submit them to an ever-lasting silence.
As the tree kept still, she sought him out wondering how he'd done it – it wasn't possible. Was it? The chocolate of his eyes outshined the lupine gold for once, as they twinkled with amusement. She narrowed her eyes at him forgetting his authority over her as her professor, her sparked anger couldn't recognise him as by his title at that moment. She could only see the man who had intentionally led her to believe he was in trouble for his amusement. As her eyes darkened, his smile grew larger into a full-blown grin.
"Come along Miss Granger. Personally—" he feigned a thoughtful look. "—Well I wouldn't want to be here when it wakes up. Nasty right hook," He laughed as her eyes widened, before he took a large step into – into the tree? What on earth.
She crept closer, her eyes continually flicked up to ensure the tree remained asleep. As she reached the base of the tree, she spotted an open doorway. She gasped in awe. It must have appeared as the tree twisted straight, revealing the hollow within, her mind reasoned. Sometimes magic never stopped being truly magical for Hermione.
She stepped forward without thought, too awed by the dark hidden alcove within and what mystery lived there. Inside the tree, revealed a long, rickety staircase with large gaps between the steps and several caved stairs. Her mouth twisted as her brain struggled to adjust to the seemingly improbable architecture within the tree trunk. Every so often, there was only one conclusion to an oft-asked question, and it was always an unsatisfying answer for her– magic.
As she reached the staircase, low light flooded through the boarded windows into the narrow hallow. At the end of the hallway stood her professor as he gazed through the cracks of a boarded window.
"This is my place to hide..." he turned to her, back obscuring the little dregs of light. "…I come here during the full moons; I trust you to never come here without my express permission or tell any of the others about this place." She listened to him, subconsciously nodding along as she wandered down the narrow corridor at a snail's pace. She peeped into the doors lining the pathway to her professor. There were several rooms and each room shared a commonality in their run-down nature and broken furniture spread about as if thrown by a large force. Why was she here? The thought must have fallen from her lips as her professor answered.
"Why? Well, I'd say so you could brag about defeating the Whomping Willow to your classmates but we both know that can't be – not just because it was I who defeated the tree," he laughed as she glared at him for a moment before he heaved a winded sigh. "I hadn't intended to show you this place. Not many have been here, in truth, and not for a long while," his fingers fidgeted inside his large seamless pockets.
"There was something I thought I'd show you, though. Maybe even get a little smile for my trouble," She reached her professor who was standing between two closed doors, the only closed doors she'd seen so far.
One door was different, the wood was a new black and liquidly smooth, with no chips and edged in silver. Her professor seemed uncomfortable as she investigated the door, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She moved from the door her professor cringed from, and eyes the remaining closed door. The second door was unassuming, the dull wood was chipped and peeling, in the same state of decay as the others.
"I hated – hate, this place. I had the worst and best memories here. As confusing as that is…" he pauses, as he brushed hair the fallen hair from his face. "…This room in particular—" he wrapped his knuckles against the splintering wood, he winced a little as he pulled his hand away. "— this was a neutral place for me. Neither good nor bad. Somewhere to go when I needed to be away from Hogwarts if the scents and sounds got too much for Moony. I've made it sound just brilliant, haven't I?" He drawled sarcastically, but chucked as she nodded her head eagerly, anyway. "Well calm down, it's not that great so lower your expectations greatly."
Despite his advice, she was somewhat excited to see the room. To some, the place was a mite-infested hovel, fit to be torn down as its safety was dubious at best. To her, it was somewhere to escape Hogwarts entirely, even if she was still technically on the grounds.
"May I?" she asked, as her hand reached for the rusted doorknob. Her professor backed away from the door and gestured for her to proceed with an open palm. Hermione had no idea what to expect, but the room suited the man very well. It was very small and padded with mostly empty bookshelves, two or three half-filled shelves spread throughout. There was a dusty wing-backed cream chair, that could use a scourgify or two, on top laid a quilted pillow with fringed corners and an over-sized tan knit-blanket. The room was void of any furniture, but there was a charming fireplace on the only bare wall, with a single framed photo on top.
Hermione's feet had already brought her to the near-empty shelves, reading every title with a predatory smile, ready to devour the words within. Most of the books were dark arts texts, some she'd read and others she'd yet to hear of. There was a book on House-elves and magical bonds, and a book of complicated runes that had Hermione salivating. She didn't ask permission, simply lifted the book and began reading the text. Before she finished the table of contents, already invested and ready to get into the grit of the text, her professor coughed behind her.
"Oh, sorry. I wasn't thinking," she apologised, a light flush tinted the apples of her face as she placed the book where she'd stolen it from. He was sure to regret giving her access to the library as she couldn't seem to stop herself from invading his privacy.
"Nonsense, I've read them dozens of times, you're free to read them, Hermione," he smiled to her, and she gave him a real beaming smile in return, a smile that showed every giant tooth proudly. He walked unsurely into the room as if he needed her permission which was rather ridiculous as it was his private place. "I suppose it's rather contradictory to tell you that you can't come here without my permission, but then tell you to come here whenever you need to. It's for your own safety."
"I understand," he pursed his lips, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Hermione wouldn't push him, she was sure she probably wouldn't like what he'd had to say so she endured. "How did you do that to the tree? I'd never read about it," not even in Hogwarts: A History. She didn't think there were many things about Hogwarts not contained within pages of the tome. Professor Lupin smiled at the inquisitive witch.
"I shouldn't think it would be, that'd be the worst way to keep a secret I should think," she laughed withher professor, something that should feel strange with a man she'd known less than a year. If anything was strange, it was how natural it felt, the man seemed to emit this calm energy. She snorted, as her inner mind had unintentionally quoted Trelawney. "Dumbledore added the Willow knot to the tree sometime before I came, you tap the knot and it should fall right to sleep. The best advice I can give you is never come near the tree when it's aggravated. I learned that lesson the hard way," he tapped the white scar above his eyebrow, she gasped in realisation.
"I thought that was from transforming," she said, then her eyebrows pinched painfully. "Then what was all the whistling about?" She thought he was calming the tree, but clearly not if he'd been attacked by the tree before. Her professor chuckled lightly in response.
"No, I thought it would be funny if you thought I had a magic whistle. Bad joke, but you looked at me as if I was the second coming of Merlin…" he laughed again as her face bloomed red. "…Second thought, it was a rather good joke." She ignored him, not much enjoying being the centre of ridicule when she couldn't rightly hex her professor for his troubles. She picked up the book on House-elves, as it seemed the most of place in the small collection. Opening the book, she realised it was no ordinary book, as it was carved in the centre and three Honeyduke's chocolates of varied flavours were hidden within, covered in a retro bubble-pink wrapper. Her professors looked at the laughing witch quizzically, and she held up the proof which caused a deep red to peek from behind his collar.
"It's always been the favourite, then? Chocolate Frogs never stood a chance," she teased, she repressed the voice that scolded her for her impropriety. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Professor McGonagall. Her professor moved closer snatching a bar with a marked agility, from within the book cavity.
"Brightest witch of her age," he said, tapping her on the nose with the bar, before peeling the aged wrapper away and biting into the bar. The bar was free of the signs of age and the white coating of expired chocolate, she was extremely impressed with the teenaged Lupin's magic capabilities. That was an enduring stasis charm, she doubted hers could maintain for that long. He looked thoughtfully at the bookshelves, his eyes lingered on each book as he ambled down memory lane.
"It's been a while since I've been in here, myself. I haven't needed it with the potion masking all the smelly teenagers and all that ghastly perfume," his face wrinkled in disgust. "I suppose, I feel better knowing it's going to someone who needs it. Though, I'd rather she didn't need it at all," the face from earlier returned, pursed lips holding in questions he wanted to ask but didn't know how to. Hermione knew where this was going, again, she'd not push him into talking either. "Hermione, you know if you need help or even to talk, I'll help however I can."
He'd said similar words before, with just as much heart too. She'd knowingly scorned him then, could she do it again? Even after he'd given her his hideout, could she lie to him, again? Or would she take it as a second chance – a do-over of sorts? She breathed deeply, and turned back to the bookcase and away from the sad brown eyes that beared down on her.
"Unless you can force teenagers to grow up, I don't think there is much you can do," she said flatly.
"So, Harry is still ignoring you?" he tutted, as she whipped her head around to face him. How had Professor Lupin known? She opened her mouth to ask but he continued speaking. "Foolish boy. He's too easily led, that broom could've killed him if he got on it. I know he knows it, too." Hermione gulped.
"So, it was cursed, then?" She asked slowly, but the professor's demeanour changed suddenly, as he huffed and began pacing.
"If it's cursed, it's bloody hard to catch. Though if I know him at all, he'll use one he knows I won't think of. Which is the crux of the problem, the mangy mutt," Hermione tilted her head, rarely did you hear someone call Black a dog. It was rather tame for the man who murdered all of his friends. "I'll figure it out. If I've to fly the bloody thing myself, I will," He growled in an animalistic manner, which startled Hermione. Professor Lupin staggered from his pacing, and stopped mid-stride.
"Sorry, got a bit carried away..." Hermione gave him a smile to reassure him, not wanting him to think her afraid of him as she once would've been. "...I'll find whatever he put on the broom or just blow it up. I'm open to either."
"Terrible as it is, I want it to be cursed," she didn't betray him for nothing, then. Her professor smiled at her kindly, enhancing the soft features of his face, as he lay a large and roughened hand on her shoulder gently.
"It'll all be alright soon, Hermione," he promised, his hand squeezed her shoulder. His words would follow her around for the rest of the day, and far into the night. Something small to repeat to herself, when it seemed as if it never would be.
.
Hermione hadn't been able to get to her new home away from home since she'd been given the keys from her professor, under the condition she stopped calling him professor outside of the classroom. He'd insisted he could hardly stand it in the classroom, made him feel like a fuddy-duddy. He'd also told her to start answering questions again, she was delaying his class having to explain everything himself. She'd been beet-red, but he seemed to find that even funnier.
She'd been given permission to add her own books, but that had felt like a breach in privacy, so she decided to bring any she needed instead. Today, she'd seize her opportunity. She'd checked her calendar for full moons and cleared it with her professor after class, with a thumbs up from both, she'd barely chewed her breakfast, ready to leave as the students took another trip to Hogsmeade. As she headed for the exit, her heavy bag slapping against her back, she was intercepted by a red-haired menace. Fred smiled nervously, which set off every alarm she had.
"Hey, want to go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione was taken aback, by the speed of his speech and the straight-forward nature of it. Normally It was a never-ending speech about how gorgeous his red hair and her golden eyes would look on a small human. That was if he didn't go a tangent about the true colour of her hair, or the 'sneaky' grey in her eye as he called it. He spoke of her as if debating the stripes of a zebra. Fred tapped his foot incessantly against the ground, as he chewed his lip. "Well?" he asked, exasperation lacing his tone as he looked past her to the Great Hall entrance uneasily. Something was definitely off.
"I'm thinking about it," she shrugged her shoulder, as she delayed the man who had somewhere to be, where to was the real worry.
"Really?" he said, his voice higher than a pre-pubescent boy.
"Obviously not," she rolled her eyes, she'd never understood the point of the game he started, only knowing she'd cross the finish line first. Fred didn't seem to upset, his voice dropped to it's original pitch as he spoke speedily.
"Right, yeah. Awful shame – yeah, good day and all that usual stuff about your hair. Bye, love," a gust of wind hit her face as Fred fled the hall, the smell of wood and apples was all that he'd left behind. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the empty entrance, as she followed the trace of the lingering scent. Frederick Weasley was up to something and she'd figure it out, with some time to spare for light-reading in-between hexes and curses.
.
Hi all,
So, we're still dealing with sad Hermione. As much as I want to push her away and just resolve their fight, it was a large part of her story during the Prisoner of Azkaban. It gives me an opportunity to explore other friendships, which is a plus. Be rather strange if her and Luna were suddenly best friends.
I won't say much, but it's important Hermione knows about the Whomping Willow before the climax, which thankfully isn't too far away. I'm already fleshing out the story arc for Order of the Phoenix. The Goblet of Fire, though a mega-large book, wasn't a big moment for Hermione, she wasn't as integral to the story as in PoA, so it won't be as long as this but it'll still be important. Yes, contradictions are my speciality.
I love the Hermione/Remus friendship and anyone who doesn't can honest to god, fight me. I hope I did him justice and he's still in character. Wonder what Fred's up to? (I'm kidding, I know)
Ramble over, but hope you liked it! Review/Follow/Fave, if you feel like it. It's a great motivator.
Expect another update soon.
Until next time