A/N: ooohhhhhhh, the marauders PLAN! _ heeheehee... and in case you
haven't noticed ~these ~ swirly ~ dashy ~ thingies ~ represent ~ the ~
marauders' ~ point ~ of ~ view~. Okay? Okay.
I don't own Harry Potter, btw
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~
The next morning, Remus was up first (as usual) and kicked Sirius awake before collapsing in bed once more himself. Hey. He was getting paid to wake him up!
Sirius, meanwhile, called Remus a few names, then retreated into a shower before heading down to the common room with still-wet hair. The sun still had yet to rise fully, so the common room was still somewhat in shadows. Automatically, the animagi's head turned toward the squishy armchair Hermione Granger was usually found sleeping in. seeing her not there, his eyes turned immediately towards the corner in the far right side of the room, where her papers and books were strewn. And there she was, curled on her side around a pillow in the middle of them all.
He allowed himself a momentary smile. She really was a cutie, he had to admit. The other marauders could think he was /interested/ in her in whatever way they liked, but all he wanted was the truth and the ego boost of knowing he had broken such a strong-willed girl. Woman. Whatever.
Moving quietly, he practically tiptoed over to that side of the room, carefully stepping in gaps between books and/or papers, nudging a few aside with a toe every now and then. Eventually, he knelt in front of her, and noted she had been crying. Probably cried herself to sleep, by the looks of it.
Poor thing. It was a shame she didn't spare herself the stress and just tell him about herself. Then he'd be her friend and help her out with her work. So would the other three, too, for that matter. And her life would be so much more easier.
Carefully, he reached over and brushed stray strands of hair off her forehead and cheeks. He made a face. Hermione looked like she hadn't used a brush or changed clothes in quite some time. In fact, starting from the moment he first saw her, it didn't seem as though she may have changed at all...
Maybe she didn't have anything to change /into/. Now /that/ was sad. Sad and pathetic. She reminded him of Moony, in plenty of ways.
"Hey," he breathed in her ear, effectively waking her up. She burrowed into her pillow even more, mumbling something incoherent. Sirius jerked it out of her grasp. "Wake up, you," he whispered.
She opened one eye, then slowly sat up. "Go 'way," she muttered, probably intending to fall back into her warm spot, but instead falling into Sirius' shoulder. She mumbled something about smelling good, then relaxed. Sirius gave her a moment, then jerked to his feet quickly, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. She seemed more awake now.
"What do /you/ want?" she hissed, jerking her arms free and stumbling backwards over an open book, stepped on an inked bottled. It cracked, and she yelped, lifting up her foot and falling backwards, hitting the wall and sliding down with a few curses.
Sirius grinned at her.
"Not a morning person, eh?" he asked quietly. "Don't worry. Anyway, I figured you might want to borrow a somewhat more... cleaner, pair of robes."
"What?" she asked stupidly, scowling as she ripped a piece of the inkbottle out of the bottom of her foot. Red blood mixed with black ink, and they dripped onto the carpet. She bit her lip, hissing through her teeth in an attempt not to show any pain. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and knelt in front of her.
"Want some help? That's got to hurt."
"No, it doesn't," she half snarled, trying to get to her feet again. Failed, of course, but tried all the same.
He shook his head. "Tell you what; you can borrow my robes until yours are cleaned - because let's face it, you need something to wear - and I'll take you down to the hospital wing."
"Hell, no," she snarled again, once more attempting to regain her footing. "Leave me alone, I don't need any help from you in the least bit! Go away, go bother somebody else for a change!" tears burned in her eyes.
"No."
"What?"
"I'm not going to bother anybody else. You're special." That said, he grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up and over his shoulder in one, fluid motion.
"No! no, what are you doing?? Put me down you, you, you rapist, you!" she cried, grabbing the back of his robes to keep herself from falling. "Put me down, put me down!" he dumped her on a squishy armchair, and she hissed through her teeth, reaching down and grabbing her blood and ink stained foot.
"Will you let me help you, now?"
"Leave me alone!"
He gave an exasperated sigh and bounded up to his bed, which he fished under until some clean black robes were in hand. Then he bounded back down to where Hermione was attempting to stop the bleeding by shifting to that her head hung off the side and held her foot in both hands, which were gooey from blood and ink, now, too. She was openly crying, silently, though.
He supported her into a sitting position.
"Leave me alone," she hissed, but he just batted her hands away, jerked her robe off, and jerked his on over her head.
Of course this involved a lot of swearing and threats on her part (it wasn't the wearing-a-boy's-clothes part, it was the moral of being seen in lingerie part) but she eventually gave up when he used her robes to wrap around her foot.
"I... hate... you..." she hissed through her teeth, leaning on him for support momentarily before he picked her up ("Hey! Stop it!") and shifted her onto his back. "I don't need a piggy back ride, I'm not a little kid!"
"Shut up," he mumbled, jerking her up so that she was in a more comfortable position. "Hold still, I'm probably saving your life..."
"Are not," she said, openly unclenching her teeth and raising her voice to say so. She sniffed hard. With tears came a runny nose.
He ended up carrying her like this all the way across the school to the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey, shockingly enough, was already up and bustling about. That may have had something to do with the two kids in separate beds (must have tried dueling... poor blokes) wrapped in white, but otherwise this was a surprise.
"Oh, what did you *do* to her?" Pomfrey cried, catching sight of the two of them. The two boys in beds across the room looked over interestedly.
"I didn't do anything," Sirius whined. "She stepped on an inkbottle and it broke-"
"Put her down, down I say!" Sirius blinked, then turned and dumped Hermione unceremoniously onto the nearest bed. "Oh, you!" Pomfrey gave him a dirty look before taking Hermione's foot and jerking the stained robes off of it.
"Will I be able to make it to classes?" Hermione asked softly.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure," Pomfrey murmured, cleaning the wound off first before numbing it with a blue liquid to take out the rest of the bottle pieces. Then she cleaned it thoroughly again with some more liquids that stank and burned so much that Hermione's tears never ceased once through the whole procedure, though she was very good at biting into her lip to keep from making any sound. Then the gash was healed over, and Pomfrey wrapped it just in case. "Might as well take your medications while you're here," the healer mumbled, scuttling about and grabbing bottles and glasses. Once that was done, Hermione let Sirius lead her out by her wrist.
Once out of eye and earshot, though, she jerked her arm away and mumbled a thanks before bolting ahead of him up to the common room.
Sirius considered following her, but decided against it and went to the great hall early.
~
Hermione scrambled about, grabbing her papers and books and such, picking up the inkbottle's pieces and cleaning up the ink and blood. She ignored the strange looks she was given as students got up and went down for breakfast, and by the time she had everything in her bag and organized, the great hall would be too filled for her to run in and out for something to eat.
Not that it mattered, as she really didn't care. After shoving her bare feet into her shoes (her socks had just been removed, obviously) she grabbed her bag, fingers catching in the longer sleeves of the robe, and she almost tripped over the hem on her way out.
Throughout the day entirely, it wasn't long before Hermione was completely annoyed with the sleeves (which were longer than her hands and would never stay folded up), the hem of the robe (at least an inch too long, and she managed to trip over it ever five or ten minutes... literally!) and the robe's size in general, especially around her shoulders. It dwarfed her, so she looked a lot smaller and skinnier than she really was.
But otherwise, she was grateful to Sirius in his generosity. Maybe not so that he had seen her in a pair of underwear and spandex shorts and a sports bra, but after avoiding him all day she felt slightly more better about it.
When classes were over she hid in the library and once more stayed there until she was kicked out. After the usual stop at the hospital wing, she found herself a new corner in the common room (just as shadowy and secluded) and managed to get a good chunk of her homework done before she couldn't focus anymore.
In an almost desperate attempt to get Harry and going home out of her mind, Hermione looked across the room to the marauders (who were three minus Remus crowded around something whispering) and considered thanking the Black Haired Bimbo. Or glitter boy. Or whatever you called kids like Sirius.
It was the right thing to do, and she had to do it. No doubt.
But certainly not in front of anybody. The mumbled 'thanks' she had given him while running away certainly wouldn't do, he probably hadn't even heard her in the first place. What did he think of her? A stuck-up brat? Probably.
She packed her stuff up and forced herself to finish the last thing she had due the next day, mind wandering and glancing up to see if /He/ was alone yet.
Soon the common room was empty, and she sighed. After packing up her stuff, she considered a squishy armchair, but instead grabbed al the pillows in the room and made a little borrow or nest of some sort in her new corner. She settled in it, and easily let herself drift off...
She'd never get home. Never. Why even bother fighting it? She'd die anyway. Hermione was startled awake by three voices. She sat bolt upright, listening, and there was immediately silence in the room. Slowly, blinking hard, she looked around the room. She hadn't been out for very long, because the sun was just finishing setting. Marveling somewhat, she got up and went to the window.
Two figures were out on the grounds. She only had to watch them for a little bit to figure out they were Remus and Pomfrey. She shook her head, going back to her nest and making herself comfortable. Then she considered, smiled to herself, got back up, and went to the portrait hole (grabbing the hem of Sirius' robes as she tripped over them once again). She heard a barely concealed snort, but gritted her teeth and slowly pushed the portrait hole wide open.
She waited a moment, leaning 'round and looking out, pretending to look both ways to see if anyone was coming. She thought for a moment she heard footsteps, and waited until they had faded into silence. Then she sighed, and pulled the portrait closed, going back to her nest/burrow.
The marauders out to the shrieking shack, she supposed.
I don't own Harry Potter, btw
.
.
.
~
The next morning, Remus was up first (as usual) and kicked Sirius awake before collapsing in bed once more himself. Hey. He was getting paid to wake him up!
Sirius, meanwhile, called Remus a few names, then retreated into a shower before heading down to the common room with still-wet hair. The sun still had yet to rise fully, so the common room was still somewhat in shadows. Automatically, the animagi's head turned toward the squishy armchair Hermione Granger was usually found sleeping in. seeing her not there, his eyes turned immediately towards the corner in the far right side of the room, where her papers and books were strewn. And there she was, curled on her side around a pillow in the middle of them all.
He allowed himself a momentary smile. She really was a cutie, he had to admit. The other marauders could think he was /interested/ in her in whatever way they liked, but all he wanted was the truth and the ego boost of knowing he had broken such a strong-willed girl. Woman. Whatever.
Moving quietly, he practically tiptoed over to that side of the room, carefully stepping in gaps between books and/or papers, nudging a few aside with a toe every now and then. Eventually, he knelt in front of her, and noted she had been crying. Probably cried herself to sleep, by the looks of it.
Poor thing. It was a shame she didn't spare herself the stress and just tell him about herself. Then he'd be her friend and help her out with her work. So would the other three, too, for that matter. And her life would be so much more easier.
Carefully, he reached over and brushed stray strands of hair off her forehead and cheeks. He made a face. Hermione looked like she hadn't used a brush or changed clothes in quite some time. In fact, starting from the moment he first saw her, it didn't seem as though she may have changed at all...
Maybe she didn't have anything to change /into/. Now /that/ was sad. Sad and pathetic. She reminded him of Moony, in plenty of ways.
"Hey," he breathed in her ear, effectively waking her up. She burrowed into her pillow even more, mumbling something incoherent. Sirius jerked it out of her grasp. "Wake up, you," he whispered.
She opened one eye, then slowly sat up. "Go 'way," she muttered, probably intending to fall back into her warm spot, but instead falling into Sirius' shoulder. She mumbled something about smelling good, then relaxed. Sirius gave her a moment, then jerked to his feet quickly, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. She seemed more awake now.
"What do /you/ want?" she hissed, jerking her arms free and stumbling backwards over an open book, stepped on an inked bottled. It cracked, and she yelped, lifting up her foot and falling backwards, hitting the wall and sliding down with a few curses.
Sirius grinned at her.
"Not a morning person, eh?" he asked quietly. "Don't worry. Anyway, I figured you might want to borrow a somewhat more... cleaner, pair of robes."
"What?" she asked stupidly, scowling as she ripped a piece of the inkbottle out of the bottom of her foot. Red blood mixed with black ink, and they dripped onto the carpet. She bit her lip, hissing through her teeth in an attempt not to show any pain. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and knelt in front of her.
"Want some help? That's got to hurt."
"No, it doesn't," she half snarled, trying to get to her feet again. Failed, of course, but tried all the same.
He shook his head. "Tell you what; you can borrow my robes until yours are cleaned - because let's face it, you need something to wear - and I'll take you down to the hospital wing."
"Hell, no," she snarled again, once more attempting to regain her footing. "Leave me alone, I don't need any help from you in the least bit! Go away, go bother somebody else for a change!" tears burned in her eyes.
"No."
"What?"
"I'm not going to bother anybody else. You're special." That said, he grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up and over his shoulder in one, fluid motion.
"No! no, what are you doing?? Put me down you, you, you rapist, you!" she cried, grabbing the back of his robes to keep herself from falling. "Put me down, put me down!" he dumped her on a squishy armchair, and she hissed through her teeth, reaching down and grabbing her blood and ink stained foot.
"Will you let me help you, now?"
"Leave me alone!"
He gave an exasperated sigh and bounded up to his bed, which he fished under until some clean black robes were in hand. Then he bounded back down to where Hermione was attempting to stop the bleeding by shifting to that her head hung off the side and held her foot in both hands, which were gooey from blood and ink, now, too. She was openly crying, silently, though.
He supported her into a sitting position.
"Leave me alone," she hissed, but he just batted her hands away, jerked her robe off, and jerked his on over her head.
Of course this involved a lot of swearing and threats on her part (it wasn't the wearing-a-boy's-clothes part, it was the moral of being seen in lingerie part) but she eventually gave up when he used her robes to wrap around her foot.
"I... hate... you..." she hissed through her teeth, leaning on him for support momentarily before he picked her up ("Hey! Stop it!") and shifted her onto his back. "I don't need a piggy back ride, I'm not a little kid!"
"Shut up," he mumbled, jerking her up so that she was in a more comfortable position. "Hold still, I'm probably saving your life..."
"Are not," she said, openly unclenching her teeth and raising her voice to say so. She sniffed hard. With tears came a runny nose.
He ended up carrying her like this all the way across the school to the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey, shockingly enough, was already up and bustling about. That may have had something to do with the two kids in separate beds (must have tried dueling... poor blokes) wrapped in white, but otherwise this was a surprise.
"Oh, what did you *do* to her?" Pomfrey cried, catching sight of the two of them. The two boys in beds across the room looked over interestedly.
"I didn't do anything," Sirius whined. "She stepped on an inkbottle and it broke-"
"Put her down, down I say!" Sirius blinked, then turned and dumped Hermione unceremoniously onto the nearest bed. "Oh, you!" Pomfrey gave him a dirty look before taking Hermione's foot and jerking the stained robes off of it.
"Will I be able to make it to classes?" Hermione asked softly.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure," Pomfrey murmured, cleaning the wound off first before numbing it with a blue liquid to take out the rest of the bottle pieces. Then she cleaned it thoroughly again with some more liquids that stank and burned so much that Hermione's tears never ceased once through the whole procedure, though she was very good at biting into her lip to keep from making any sound. Then the gash was healed over, and Pomfrey wrapped it just in case. "Might as well take your medications while you're here," the healer mumbled, scuttling about and grabbing bottles and glasses. Once that was done, Hermione let Sirius lead her out by her wrist.
Once out of eye and earshot, though, she jerked her arm away and mumbled a thanks before bolting ahead of him up to the common room.
Sirius considered following her, but decided against it and went to the great hall early.
~
Hermione scrambled about, grabbing her papers and books and such, picking up the inkbottle's pieces and cleaning up the ink and blood. She ignored the strange looks she was given as students got up and went down for breakfast, and by the time she had everything in her bag and organized, the great hall would be too filled for her to run in and out for something to eat.
Not that it mattered, as she really didn't care. After shoving her bare feet into her shoes (her socks had just been removed, obviously) she grabbed her bag, fingers catching in the longer sleeves of the robe, and she almost tripped over the hem on her way out.
Throughout the day entirely, it wasn't long before Hermione was completely annoyed with the sleeves (which were longer than her hands and would never stay folded up), the hem of the robe (at least an inch too long, and she managed to trip over it ever five or ten minutes... literally!) and the robe's size in general, especially around her shoulders. It dwarfed her, so she looked a lot smaller and skinnier than she really was.
But otherwise, she was grateful to Sirius in his generosity. Maybe not so that he had seen her in a pair of underwear and spandex shorts and a sports bra, but after avoiding him all day she felt slightly more better about it.
When classes were over she hid in the library and once more stayed there until she was kicked out. After the usual stop at the hospital wing, she found herself a new corner in the common room (just as shadowy and secluded) and managed to get a good chunk of her homework done before she couldn't focus anymore.
In an almost desperate attempt to get Harry and going home out of her mind, Hermione looked across the room to the marauders (who were three minus Remus crowded around something whispering) and considered thanking the Black Haired Bimbo. Or glitter boy. Or whatever you called kids like Sirius.
It was the right thing to do, and she had to do it. No doubt.
But certainly not in front of anybody. The mumbled 'thanks' she had given him while running away certainly wouldn't do, he probably hadn't even heard her in the first place. What did he think of her? A stuck-up brat? Probably.
She packed her stuff up and forced herself to finish the last thing she had due the next day, mind wandering and glancing up to see if /He/ was alone yet.
Soon the common room was empty, and she sighed. After packing up her stuff, she considered a squishy armchair, but instead grabbed al the pillows in the room and made a little borrow or nest of some sort in her new corner. She settled in it, and easily let herself drift off...
She'd never get home. Never. Why even bother fighting it? She'd die anyway. Hermione was startled awake by three voices. She sat bolt upright, listening, and there was immediately silence in the room. Slowly, blinking hard, she looked around the room. She hadn't been out for very long, because the sun was just finishing setting. Marveling somewhat, she got up and went to the window.
Two figures were out on the grounds. She only had to watch them for a little bit to figure out they were Remus and Pomfrey. She shook her head, going back to her nest and making herself comfortable. Then she considered, smiled to herself, got back up, and went to the portrait hole (grabbing the hem of Sirius' robes as she tripped over them once again). She heard a barely concealed snort, but gritted her teeth and slowly pushed the portrait hole wide open.
She waited a moment, leaning 'round and looking out, pretending to look both ways to see if anyone was coming. She thought for a moment she heard footsteps, and waited until they had faded into silence. Then she sighed, and pulled the portrait closed, going back to her nest/burrow.
The marauders out to the shrieking shack, she supposed.