Perseus stared at Hermione, his eyes dark. He'd been asking questions since she'd asked him about Nicholas Flamel, and asked a few students to listen around for him. Surprisingly, many had been willing to do so. For a few galleons, of course. Perhaps it was wrong to hire people to spy on your friends, but Perseus had never put much stock into doing right . It was nearly an anathema to Black family. He'd been taught from a young age, do what you please, as long as you don't get caught. He didn't plan on telling Hermione, and the people he'd paid didn't even know that's who they were listening for. After all, it made much more sense to spy on Harry Potter.
And from what he'd learned, Hermione had asked him to teach her his area silencing spell for nothing, because the girl made no use of it. Listening to her and her two friends talk was as simple as being nearby and out of sight, apparently.
For the first time ever, Perseus was angry with his friend. Or perhaps he was more angry with himself. He'd inadvertently given her the answer to a puzzle she'd been trying to connect, a puzzle whose picture would surely bring nothing but trouble. Dumbledore warned students away from the third floor corridor with good reason. He had learned that her and her two moronic friends thought that there was an item being hidden in the school — the Philosopher's Stone — and that Snape of all people wanted to steal it. While he thought that idea was rather foolish, he couldn't discount the other factors surrounding the theory, or the fact that it was Hermione who had come up with the idea. The girl was sharp as a whip, and rather perceptive.
They were alone, in the library, meeting as they often did. Their meetings had become less frequent, with Hermione spending a great deal of time elsewhere — making plans and scheming with her Gryffindor gang.
Hermione looked up from her book and returned his stare, a blush rising in her cheeks.
"Yes, Perseus?" She said, marking her page and closing the book.
"Hermione, why haven't you been meeting me as often?"
She blushed fully now, eyes falling away from his and her fingers pinching the hem of her sleeve. "I've been helping Harry and Ron with their homework." She said, still not meeting his eyes.
He turned away from her, his eyes falling to stare at the table.
She'd always helped Harry and Ron with their homework. She complained about it often enough that it was impossible for him to forget. He was truly beginning to get angry now. For all his question dodging and deflection, he'd never outright lied to the girl. She was his friend. This at least, was something he wanted to do right.
"Perseus," Hermione said, her voice soft and pleading. She knew her lie was feeble, and she knew he would see right through it.
He turned back to her, meeting her doe-eyed gaze once more. "Tell me you won't get involved with the Philosopher's Stone," his voice was firm, and even raspier than usual.
Hermione was taken aback, blinking at him as her mouth worked soundlessly.
"Hermione."
She snapped out of her stupor, and he saw the beginnings of her own anger stirring in her brown eyes, which narrowed at him.
"How do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?" Her eyes flickered to his tie and back to his own, suspicion in her gaze.
It was Perseus' turn to be taken aback, though his response was nothing more than a single blink.
Was Hermione accusing him? Because he was a Slytherin? He had been told by the prefect his first night that they'd be subject to prejudice and perhaps even bullying from the rest of the school — Gryffindor in particular. It seemed not even his friend was free of that bias.
His gaze was cold now, as he stared back at her. "If you recall, it was me who supplied you with that information."
Hermione flushed, breaking eye contact with him again. Though she was ashamed of her suspicion of him, he could tell she had not yet let go of her anger as she now glared at him.
"If the Philosopher's Stone is in the school, we need to protect it! Snape has been trying to get it all year! He let in the troll that nearly killed us, and we caught him cursing Harry's broom at his first quidditch match!" She said heatedly in a rush of words.
Perseus met her fiery gaze with his own cool one, and now he was well and truly angry. Icy coolness filled his mind and body, and he could feel his anger, cold and hard as ice.
Had he misjudged Hermione? Was the girl actually a fool? What did she think that she, or even he, two admittedly talented wizards for their age, could do at the age of 11 that the school's professors couldn't accomplish? That Headmaster Dumbledore, the foremost practitioner of magic in Europe — in the world if the general public of Britain was to be believed — could use the help of an eleven year old witch?
"We are eleven years old, Hermione," He said, staring over her shoulder at nothing. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. "There is nothing you can do to protect the stone that the teachers at the school haven't already done." He finally shifted his gaze to her, and found heated brown eyes and a set jaw.
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak. "You are my friend Hermione," his voice had lost some of its raspy chill, though it grew hoarser still from his use of it. "You are smart," she blushed, her resolve melting away the tiniest bit. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid regarding the Philosopher's Stone."
She stared back at him, and he watched the internal struggle on the girl's face. She truly was an open book, to him and to others. He was sure at least a few of the older Slytherins had figured out their connection by now, it was impossible not to with some of the looks the girl gave him.
She frowned heavily, fidgeting in her seat. She was silent for a moment, and Perseus decided that it was useless. She obviously could not be reasoned with, and he was wasting his time.
He stood from his seat, and Hermione grabbed his hand before he could go.
"I promise, Perseus," she said, brown eyes moist. "I promise I'll try not to do anything stupid."
Perseus held back a sigh. He hadn't asked her to try. He gave it up as a lost cause. The girl was obviously intent on being some sort of hero. Potter was wearing off on her a bit too much.
The coolness of his anger had never left him, and he found he couldn't muster much in the way of affirmation that Hermione was clearly searching for. She had lied to him, and then given him a half promise that he knew she would try to and ultimately fail to keep. If Potter went to protect the Stone, Hermione would never allow him to go alone. She was too good of a friend, and Perseus couldn't fault her for it. But he certainly wasn't happy about it.
He nodded at her, swallowing thickly as he finally noticed the growing ache in his throat from the overuse of his voice. He gave the hand she was still holding a light squeeze, ignoring her pleading eyes as he left the library.
He headed back to his dorm, even though it was only four in the afternoon. He wouldn't be seen until lessons resumed on Monday.
Hermione was riddled with guilt. She knew she had only promised to try not to do anything stupid, but as she'd stood trapped in the vines of Devil's Snare, she couldn't help but feel she hadn't tried hard enough.
She hadn't spoken to Perseus since that day in the library. He had been avoiding her. She'd never seen him angry before that day, and the icy coolness that had filled his gaze was terrifying. She was used to the fiery and explosive rage of Ron, and to a lesser extent, Harry.
Perseus' rage was cool and calm, his eyes hard and sharp. He'd grow very still, and his violet eyes would freeze over like the black lake in winter. It had unsettled her badly.
And now it was all she could think of as she sat in the Great Hall, listening to Dumbledore bestow an absurd amount of points to her, Harry and Ron. She could feel that cold, violet gaze upon her back.
While she didn't have much to judge it on, Perseus did not seem like the forgiving type.
She spotted Perseus leaving the Great Hall, probably headed to the dungeons. With a quick goodbye to Harry and Ron, she shot off after him, uncaring of who might have noticed.
She walked briskly towards the dungeous, her mind racing. Did he still want to be friends with her? Did he hate her?
Hermione shrieked as she was yanked roughly to the side. Whoever grabbed her prevented her from falling. She whipped around when a door slammed behind her.
"Perseus?"
He stood in front of the door, his back to her.
"Don't follow me to the Dungeons, Hermione," he said. "It's not safe for you here."
The quiet rasp of his voice made his message all the more ominous. Who would hurt a 12 year old girl, Hermione wondered. Sure, the Slytherin's didn't like her much, or any other muggleborn, but surely she was at least safe in the castle?
"Why are you here, Hermione?" he said, bowing his head. "You should be celebrating with your friends."
Hermione's brow furrowed and her brown eyes watered. "You are my friend Perseus," she said, "my best friend!"
Perseus turned to face her, his eyes narrowed. He stared at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, before her turned away from her, swallowing with an audible gulp.
Hermione approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around his body, rejoicing at the way he melted into her embrace, no longer flinching away as he once had.
He sighed deeply, resting his forehead against the door, while Hermione buried her own between his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," said Hermione.
"I was scared," Perseus said, his quiet voice muffled even more by the door. She strained her ears to hear him. "I knew I couldn't stop you from doing whatever you were doing, and I was scared you wouldn't come back."
Hermione squeezed him tighter, pressing her tears into his cloak. "I tried to get him not to go, Perseus, I swear I did."
Perseus shook his head. "You're still so new to magic, Hermione," he said. "When someone like the Headmaster warns you away from an area because it's dangerous, you really should listen."
Hermione shuddered as she remembered the feeling of Devil's Snare wrapping itself around her, the way her breath caught in her throat and for a moment, she could think of nothing else but her best friend, Perseus.
"I promise I'll never do anything like that again Perseus, I promise."
Hermione squeezed him tighter as he let out a raspy breath of air. "Don't promise me that, Hermione," he said. "You wouldn't leave a friend in need, and I wouldn't ask you to. It's not who you are."
Hermione took a deep breath before stepping away from him.
He turned around and looked at her, his purple eyes tinged red. He gave her one of his rare smiles, one of the ones she knew he saved just for her.
"Now," he said with his raspy voice, "we have to figure out a way to get you out of here."
Hermione wiped her eyes and tried to pat down her bushy hair. "What will you do this summer, Perseus? We've never talked about it before."
She watched Perseus grow still, his eyes darkening.
He was silent for a long moment, before he finally spoke. "I will return home to Milan, where I live with my Aunt Cassiopeia."
His voice was quieter than ever, and Hermione found herself moving closer to hear him.
"Do you think she'd let you visit? Or perhaps let me visit? I've never been to Milan before."
The breath of air that left his lungs was ragged, and Perseus seemed to deflate.
"No," he murmured, rubbing at his throat. "My Aunt is not fond of muggleborns, Hermione."
"How would she know?" she asked indignantly
Perseus' laugh was a quiet, echoing rasp. "You stick out like a sore thumb, Hermione."
She blushed, but was unrelenting. "And how do you figure that, Perseus Black?"
"Your tie, for starters."
She looked down at her tie, a perfect Windsor knot as her father had taught her. What was wrong with her tie?
"Witches are taught only the Half-Windsor Knot, never the full," he said. "It is an old practice really only followed by old families these days, but to my aunt, low-born and muggleborn aren't much different."
She frowned, tucking that information away. "And what else?"
"You try to shake people's hand that you don't know, you use people's given name, and lastly, your name."
Her eyebrows rose and her draw dropped. All those things she'd been taught as a child were common courtesy! And now they suddenly weren't? And her name? Something as simple as her name could tell others whether or not she was from the magical world?
Perseus' voice had grown a bit more hoarse than usual, but he continued to speak. "No Old Family would name their child after a Shakespeare character," he said the word Shakespeare as if he'd only heard it said a few times before—which he had. "In fact, I doubt there has ever been a witch in the entirety of the history of Magical Britain that was named Hermione—until you."
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "And what about your name: Perseus. One of the most famous Demigods of Greek Mythology."
He shook his head. "I've told you that my name isn't from the Greek Mythos. If my middle name weren't Sirius, I'd be Perseus Black the third, named after the constellation Perseus," he smiled wryly at her. "And, Witches and Wizards don't believe in Greek Mythology. Magical Historians and Secret Seekers have already identified the Myths as extraordinarily powerful witches and wizards."
Hermione's jaw was once again hanging as she stared at Perseus. The Greek Myths were so easily explained away as magic? What other unexplained phenomenon in ancient or even modern history was actually just magic? There must've been thousands!
"Stuff like this, you'd know it if you'd grown up in the magical world. And if I can tell, you can bet all the galleons in Gringotts my aunt will be able to tell in an instance."
Hermione went to respond, but stopped as Perseus released a hacking cough that hurt to hear, like he was scraping the sides of his throat. She was at his side in an instant.
"Are you alright?" she asked, grasping him lightly to try to stop his body from shaking.
He continued to cough into his hand, clutching Hermione for support as body rocked from the coughs.
Perseus' cough grew wet, and the sharp, metallic sting of blood filled her nose.
"Perseus? Perseus are you alright?"
He finally stopped coughing and grew limp in her arms, his breathing slow and ragged. He grimaced with every breath, and Hermione fought to keep the tears from building in her eyes. She'd never asked what happened to his voice, or why he spoke so quietly out of respect for his privacy, but this was too much!
"I'm taking you to the hospital wing Perseus, whether you like it or not."
He protested minutely, wiggling weakly in her arms before finally giving up.
Wrapping her arms around his taller body, she thanked God that he wasn't any heavier.