Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapters. Can't think of anything particularly witty at the moment.
Warnings: Cursing (very little ^^;)
Pairings: None.
A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter:
BloodyAngel, Baz (Bubbles-Gaz), Tiger Lily, Chrissy, jessiCA, Moony, Lena, Mionee, Haisobi, Sophie W., Moruganu, villageidiot333, Mary, Lethal, smileygirlo3, Ryoko, crazy_lolo, meeker, Laurel, The-Fifth-Marauder, Maddy, Luna, dracoishot1326, elaine, and Felicity.
A-RI-GA-TO!
To smileygirlo3: I'm sorry, I don't think I could email you every time I update. =X I'm terribly sorry, but one, I have horrible memory, and two, wouldn't it be easier just to check for this story's updates while you check for all the other fics you like? =]
To Ryoko: Oh, I didn't mean no one reads the fic ^^;; That would just be too...whiny. I meant no one reads the bottom and top author's notes, and it's true half the time -____- Thus, I'm constantly blamed when people don't understand something.
To Laurel: Well, I've never read anything in the Harry Potter Lexicon (don't even know what it is *sweatdrop*), and I based my dating system on the fact that I started this fic in 2001, and therefore, if I wanted Remus, Sirius, and Snape to be 37 in Hermione's time (2001), they would have to be 15 in 1979. ^^;; Is that ok with you?
Soooo...in this chapter and the chapters that might follow, I'm basically setting up the relationships between Hermione and the Marauders (perhaps even Snape). Enjoy!
-----
When James flew, he flew. He simply grew invisible wings and soared. Like Harry, he had natural grace and instinct as he swooped and dived. There was something else, too. There was a familiarity born solely from long practice and hours of hard work. Hermione could sense it as she watched his large hands grip the handle of his club with light ease and swing at the violently incoming ball with an accuracy that could not have been talent alone.
Well, Hermione mused, he does look wicked on a broomstick.
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when James dived, dived, dived...
She groped instinctively for something to grab onto, which normally would have been Ginny's arm. However, circumstances were slightly different and it was not Ginny's arm she gripped. Indeed, it was an arm. Sirius Black's arm, but an arm nonetheless.
"Jesus Christ, Granger, you don't have to rip my bloody arm off!" came a pained and irritated voice.
Hermione paid it no heed as she muttered, "Harry's going to crash..."
Fortunately, this was one of the few times Hermione was proved wrong. The dark-haired Quidditch player suddenly swerved when he was just a half a meter above the ground and still managed to slam the bludger away from a clueless Remus, who was too busy trying to catch the quaffle.
The bushy-haired Gryffindor slumped in her seat with relief, her grasp on Sirius' now-numb limb loosening considerably.
"God, you almost cut off my circulation there. Remind me never to sit next to you in the next practice. I don't want to lose a necessary appendage."
"Oh, hush up. Didn't you care at all that Harry was about to die??" replied Hermione disapprovingly.
"Well, I'm very sorry. I'm sure I'll find some compassion within me for this Harry person once I actually meet him, perhaps?"
Hermione blinked. "Well, James, then. You knew what I meant."
Sirius rolled his eyes, "James wasn't about to die. That trick is quite old, in fact. Few people find it heart-stopping anymore." He grinned as he looked pointedly at her in his last sentence.
Hermione was overcome with the urge to blow her irritating companion a raspberry. You won't, of course. You've always prided yourself in your self-control. This is the perfect chance to be the bigger person and show how much more mature you are than these idiotic Marauders! You can't possibly stoop down to their level!
Redirecting her attention to the Quidditch players zooming around like life-sized flies with broomsticks, she asked a question that had been nagging her. "Why aren't you with them?"
"Eh?"
"Why aren't you flying around with a signed death warrant like the rest of your friends?"
An arched eyebrow. "How do you reckon that that's my thing? Quidditch, that is."
A shrug. "You just seemed the type."
"The type? Which is that? A macho git of a jock that likes to live life on the edge?"
A blink of brown eyes. "Actually...yes."
"My, my, Granger. I didn't think you to be the type to judge people before you get to know them."
This made Hermione look up at him, startled. "I..."
Sirius waved his hand airily, "Eh, it's not the first time." He paused. "They're landing now. Off to bed you go, Granger. Wouldn't want you to lose your beauty sleep. A half-dead Granger is one of the last things I'd want to see in the morning."
With that, the black-haired boy pushed himself off the bleachers and headed off to greet his fellow Marauders.
"Classic dive, baby. Classic. Haven't seen it since...last week."
"Heh. What'd you expect from the best..."
Their voices faded away. Hermione was left troubled.
Do I truly judge people before I know them?
---
Hermione was quite glad indeed that she had finished all her homework beforehand.
After all, Hermione thought wryly, I wouldn't want to be looking like that.
Sirius had come to breakfast with great bags under his eyes and a slouch in his back.
Someone obviously stayed up late doing homework.
Hermione shook her head disapprovingly and chided as he passed, "Perhaps if you'd done your homework instead of going to a Quidditch practice you weren't needed in, you would have had the proper amount of sleep."
The sleep-deprived boy glared and said simply, "If I had a book, I would throw it at you right about now."
"Well, don't expect me to provide anymore advice for you, if you're going to be so rude," Hermione sniffed.
"Wouldn't that be bliss?," Sirius muttered bitterly, and stalked off to join his friends.
Hermione frowned at his back and shook her head once again. Some people just couldn't be helped. She sighed and turned to her redheaded friend.
"You shouldn't even bother," green eyes rolled skyward, "they're hopeless, all four of them."
"Let's not talk about them." The bushy-haired Gryffindor poured herself some pumpkin juice. "Let's talk about...holiday break," she smiled and took a small sip. "Are you going to go home?"
"Oh, yes!" Lily grinned brightly, "I can't want to see mum, dad and Petunia! I've so much to tell them!"
"Petunia...?" Hermione quietly stared down at the orange liquid in her cup. From what she'd heard from Harry, she hadn't been too supportive of her own sister's magic.
"Oh, well, that's my little sister. She's the most adorable thing, blonde curls and all!" she paused and her excitement seemed to dim. "She hasn't quite accepted my being a witch yet , but, well, she'll understand eventually! Don't you agree, Hermione?"
Hermione looked up, not quite knowing how to answer. Fortunately, she was saved from replying by the array of owls that swooped in and dropped packages of all shapes and sizes into the awaiting laps of young witches and wizards. A particularly large gray owl flew over to a familiar black-haired wizard, carrying a small letter that was completely dwarfed by the size of the bird.
"Thanks, Artimus," were the quiet words that left the boy's lips as he stroked its feathers lightly and gave it a bit of toast. "Off you go now. Have a safe flight!"
The graceful owl hooted happily and flew away, its wings as silent as the wind and just as fluid.
Hermione watched as Sirius unfolded the small white piece of paper none-too-eagerly.
Gray eyes traveled rapidly across the page, Sirius' expression darkening with each word. Abruptly, the letter was crumpled angrily, emitting pained growls under the violent pressure.
"Padfoot..." Remus frowned as he placed his hand lightly on his upset friend's shoulder.
Sirius shrugged the hand off almost angrily before grinning mirthlessly. "Everything's great, baby. Just peachy keen." He pushed himself away from the dining table and stood up briskly, "I'm not too hungry. I think I'll get off to Charms first. I've still a half-inch left to do in my Potions essay." He stuffed the crumpled paper into his pockets and was gone.
"You reckon his folks owled him again?"
"Well, I can't think of any other reason for his behavior. Besides, it'd be too much a coincidence if that wasn't what happened. His folks owling him, that is."
Hermione eyed the trio sitting only a few seats away from her suspiciously, a half-frown marring her small mouth. What on earth is going on around here?
---
The last day before break dragged on for most students, as they glanced at the clock continually and drowned out the monotonous voices of their professors. For Hermione, however, the day was just like any other. Herbology, for instance, was just as horrible as the day before.
The head of the Slytherin house, Professor Eris, was worse than even Snape. Hermione almost found herself missing the sour Potions teacher, but a glance at him in the back of the room changed her mind immediately.
"We're trying to extract the sap from its leaves, not kill it, Mr. Greene! My god, just because you're an imbecile doesn't mean you have to act like one!" Eris barked acidly. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"
She continued to stalk around the room, hovering over intimidated Gryffindors and complimenting smug Slytherins.
"And you, Black! Just what do you think you're doing?!"
The boy cracked an eye open to look at her, feet propped up on the table as usual and a lazy smile slowly spreading over his mouth. "Hey, baby. Good afternoon to you too, Eris. Oh, and by the way, would you mind pulling the shade down a little bit more? Solar noon and all that, you know. Hard to get even a wink of sleep with that light glaring at my eyes!"
"The nerve of you, Black!" the professor's pretty green eyes flashed angrily. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and if you ever speak to me like that again, an additional five points will be taken from every one of you rotten Gryffindors in this room!"
Sirius grinned and saluted, "Whatever you say, Professor."
Another baleful look was shot at him before Eris turned in a sweep of plain black robes and went off to snap at others.
Once out of earshot, James whispered, "What say we sneak into the Eris' dorm tonight and dump a snake or two in her bed? It'll serve that Slytherin right!"
"Capital idea, Prongs, my friend!" remarked Remus.
"How about after Quidditch practice this evening?" Peter suggested.
"...About Quidditch practice. I don't think I'll be able to make it. I've some studying to do. A little bit behind in History of Magic, I am."
James frowned, "Listen, Padfoot, whatever that letter said...well, whatever your folks said, you shouldn't listen to them! They don't know anything about you, you're brilliant! You got the highest scores on exams last year, you've got nothing to worry about!"
Sirius frowned right back. "Who said anything about any letter? I just don't want to lose to that muggle-born Granger this year. She's quite smart, from what I see in class. Even if she is a bit obnoxious."
Remus looked at him before shaking his head and quietly saying, "Right. Of course." He turned his attention back to the professor wordlessly.
---
Hermione arrived at the common room to find Sirius sitting on the floor by the fireplace, glaring at the copy of A History of Magic in his lap. She paused and eyed him suspiciously, "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be watching the Quidditch team try to kill themselves right about now?"
The person in question (who also happened to be the only other person in the room) looked up with a quirked eyebrow. "What's it to you? Besides, I thought, perhaps if I do my homework instead of going to a Quidditch practice I'm not needed in, I would get the proper amount of sleep. Isn't that right, Granger?" he mocked, smirking.
Hermione pursed her lips and replied dryly, "Has anyone ever told you how dreadfully funny you are, Black?"
"Actually, yes. Everyday in fact."
Hermione rolled her eyes and settled into a couch across the room from the boy. Silence except for the crackling of the fire followed.
Soft brown eyes traveled over informative words without comprehension. A quiet sigh was heard before the snap of a book being shut. "...I apologize for my previous words. They were a bit out of line. After all, I'm sure they appreciate you just being there."
A shrug. "Maybe."
"And I suppose that even if I did make you miss Quidditch practice, you'll still be able to watch the game that's coming up."
"What are you talking about? I never go to the Quidditch games. And besides, don't be so self-centered. I'm not here because of you."
Hermione blinked rapidly. "You don't? Why not??"
Another shrug. "Why should I? I've faith in their abilities. I know they're going to win. As for how they're going to win, I can tell by watching what they do during the practices."
"...So why aren't you there now?"
"Like I said, what's it to you? It's none of your business." An almost-annoyed frown. "You shouldn't nose around where you don't belong, muggle-born."
"Don't say that word like it's an insult, pureblood."
Glares were traded. Another silence.
Hermione opened her book again. Minutes passed before she paused in her reading, brows wrinkled in confusion. The last time I had History of Magic, we were learning about the sudden dramatic increase of Erkling killings in 1527, Germany. They're already learning about the Graphorn Invasion of 1777, which, according to our syllabus, we're not scheduled to learn until late January. She bit her lip. How was she going to do her essay?
"You'd think that they'd realize they were planning something after all those damned signs. What a bunch of idiots we had for a Ministry of Magic back then..." came the muttered words.
Hermione blinked. Of course!
"I don't suppose," she hesitated. "I don't suppose you could lend me your notes for all the classes I missed before I came here...?"
"Oh, I don't know. Are you sure you should rely on my notes? Aren't you the one who wanted to stay as far away from me as possible? What's with all these attempts at conversation?"
"Oh, don't be so petty!" Hermione said crossly, "I do really need those notes and denying me of them because of some grudge is just...just...childish and immature!"
"Calling names now, are we? Please continue talking. My desire to help you is indeed growing."
Hermione frowned angrily. Fine! If he's going to be so uncooperative, then I don't need his help! I can figure things out by myself! She then returned to the incomprehensible words in the textbook.
A third silence, and then, through grit teeth, "I'm...sorry. Can...I...please...borrow...your...notes?"
A winning smile. "Why, Granger, all you had to do was ask!" The shuffling of papers and friction of socks against the carpet. An enormous stack of parchment was dumped onto her lap. "There you go."
A small hand tentatively picked up the first piece. Sirius' neat cursive crawled across the unlined paper which was surprisingly lacking ink blots or doodles. The only illustrations were, in fact, diagrams sketched for visual aid, complementing the words surrounding it.
I don't understand...I work so hard to get where I am, and he does nothing, he doesn't study or pay attention or do anything I do and he still manages to be so...perfect...
"...How do you do it?" Hermione asked quietly, slightly put off.
"Eh?"
"How do you slack off, and play jokes and talk with your friends incessantly and pay no attention to the professor and...still manage to have such detailed notes?"
"What makes you think I pay no attention to the professor? That's mostly all I do in class. I talk with Peter, Remus and James once in a while, yes, but I can do that while listening to the teacher, call me talented, so that doesn't mean I'm slacking off. And just because you don't realize this, doesn't mean it's my problem," Sirius replied angrily. "You think you're so smart, but surprise surprise, even if people aren't exactly like you, that doesn't mean that they aren't just as smart. I get enough of this from my parents in my own home, I don't need this from a fellow student in school too. So please, think before you speak next time. I don't work my ass off just so I can get this shit from you people."
Hermione was speechless. No one ever accused her of being impulsive and inconsiderate before.
Looking down at the boy that was silently situated on the floor, staring at her disgustedly with his gray eyes, she realized it was true. She broke the gaze, cheeks burning in slight shame. I judged him before I even knew him.
Well, that's just something I must change during my stay here.
"That letter you recieved this morning...it was from your parents?"
"Yeah. You knew about that?"
"Only what I saw in the Great Hall during breakfast," she hesitated, wondering if her next question would be too personal. "Why...why were you so angry after reading it?"
Sirius shrugged and answered bitterly, "They said they thought it would be best if I didn't go home for holiday break. Said I should just study some more instead. 'After all, even an idiot can get fairly good grades if he studies and works hard enough. And you know we only ask you to try your best, dear.'...They don't know how bloody hard I try. My best is never enough for them." He looked away darkly.
And there he was. A fifteen-year-old boy who liked to have some fun with his friends and tried and worked his hardest to make his insatiable parents proud. That was all Sirius Black was.
"You know what I think..." Hermione set her books down quietly and moved to sit next to him on the floor. "I think your best is always enough. More so. To expect anything more would be foolish. You are a bright boy and any parent should be proud of this jerk named Sirius Black."
She smiled, "In fact, you've enough brains to rival even me." (She had to admit it, after all, her intelligence was one of the few things that she prided herself in.)
"Thanks...I think. From you, I'll take that as a compliment, Granger," he replied with an amused grin. His previous frustration and anger seemed to have faded away for the moment.
"Granger this, Granger that. I think we should be reacquainted on friendlier terms, eh?" She paused, wetting her lips, patting her hair and straightening her robes before holding out her small hand. "My name is Hermione Granger and I tend to judge people before I know them, though I'm learning not to. Oh, and as an answer to your question before, I change my mind. It's a 'yes'."
Sirius grinned, taking her hand and shaking it heartily. "My name is Sirius Black and I can be a serious jerk at times, even with all my good and admirable qualities(, baby). Oh, and what question would that be?"
"I believe 'Don't you want to get to know me better?' was how you phrased it. And I would. Want to get to know you better, that is."
"Ah well, I'd like to see you try. Don't expect me to tell you anything, though. I'm afraid you're all alone and without hints in your quest to figure me out," he smirked. "Beware, though. Sirius Black is one hell of a puzzle, baby."
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There ya go. I wanted to post this on my birthday, which was the 20th, but I didn't manage to finish it by then ^^;; Ah well. Only a week late, right?
I'm still not so sure if I'll end up finishing this, though I'll probably have out a few more chapters =]
About the BETA-reader thing: I still need one. The problem is, many people are stating that they want to apply in the reviews, and the whole thing gets kind of confusing if I don't have an actual email from everyone. So please, if you want to apply for the position, send me an email tell me so. (BloodyAngel and Sophie, unless you've changed your email addy, you don't have to send me another email. Thanks for actually listening to me ^___^)
By the way, I've started a new harry potter fic (called Celebrity), so if you want, you can check it out (and review!) ^_~ Shameless self-promotion, baby! Ya gotta love it.
'Til next time (and there probably will be one), review if you liked or disliked and don't if you don't give a shit ^___^ Ja mata ne!
