Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; it all belongs to JK Rowling. I suppose I own the plot, in a way.
Summary: In dark times, prophecies predicted the rising of five who would have the power alone to defeat evil. They were the Pack.
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~ The Pack ~
Chapter Four: Seventh Year
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He got the haircut. Mrs. Weasely had cut it herself, so that it wasn't a hair longer than Harry's and relatively neater. Hermione's pulse had gone into dangerous overdrive when he had returned from the Burrow and with that slow, rakish grin, told her that she owed him a hug and a kiss.
Hell, but the man was sexy.
He's also seventeen years older than you are, although he looks a decade younger . . . but that's not the point. He's your best friend's godfather.
Hermione was on the Hogwarts Express, and they were on their way to begin their seventh year at Hogwarts. As there hadn't been any attacks in the past few days, anywhere, Diagon Alley had been a fun day out for the Pack, and now, they were back to school and Hermione was already missing Sirius and Remus . . . Sirius particularly.
You need to stop thinking like this! You're both part of a team now, you can't afford to let your emotions cloud your judgement in a life or death situation like this.
If only her heart was as easy to convince as her mind.
Harry and Ron were playing Exploding Snap near her, and Ginny was talking to Neville on the other side of the compartment. Terry Boot was asleep in the seat beside Hermione, his head lolling on her shoulder as she stared out of the window. Luna was tucked into her corner, reading The Quibbler upside-down as usual, her wand stuck behind her ear.
"Sirius is alive, by the way." Ron suddenly announced.
Luna's eyes appeared over the top of the magazine with that half-bemused, mildly curious expressions. Terry didn't even stir. Neville, on the other hand, jumped violently. "You're joking!" He squeaked. "How did you guys do it?"
"It was Hermione, really." Harry smiled broadly. "He wasn't really dead. But he's back anyway, and he's at Gri - his house."
Hermione sighed. Merlin's beard, but she missed him. After only three hours!
She buried her face in her hands. She was the Angel of the Pack, one of the five who were faced with the sole power of possibly defeating Voldemort, and here she was, unable to stop thinking about a handsome, daredevil, thirty-four-year-old Warrior who, by the way, had just been brought back from the dead.
She was crazy.
***
The Hogwarts feast was just as spectacular and entertaining as always. This time, Hermione, Harry and Ron were the seniors, the seventh-years and it felt pretty cool to be gazed at with awe by the timid first and second-years.
Hermione picked at her food despondently, barely listening to the excited, animated conversation all around. She'd gotten used to Remus and Sirius being around whenever she needed to talk or simply come down to breakfast, despite the short time . . . she supposed the bonds of the Pack ran much deeper than they'd ever realized. She was just glad she still had Harry and Ron here.
Just then, Dumbledore stood up to make his start-of-term speech. Hermione, looking up at the table, noticed that there was one empty place settings. There was obviously going to be a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Hermione briefly wondered who it was going to be. She couldn't quite quell a surge of foolish hope . . .
"Welcome back, for another year," Dumbledore beamed around at the students. "I don't have much to say about this year. I may begin by saying that I believe qualities such as loyalty and unity will be most importance during times as dark as these, and I have full confidence in this school - " (The Gryffindors and Slytherins exchanged vicious looks) " - For those of you who have noticed Professor Hagrid's absence, I may assure you that he will be here in a few days."
Hermione smiled slightly, but felt a twinge of disappointment anyway. So the empty seat was Hagrid's; how could she not have realized he was missing? She really needed to focus her mind, especially with NEWTs this year (and Voldemort, too, but for a student of her calibre, schoolwork had to take the frontseat for now).
"Hey, then who's the new DADA teacher?" Ron asked, frowning, bewildered. "None of the teachers here are new."
Almost on cue, Dumbledore continued. "I also would like to announce the assignation of Defense Against the Dark Arts post for this year. I'm pleased to inform the school that Professor Severus Snape has kindly consented to take on the task in addition to his Potions classes."
There was dead silence in the Great Hall and then the Slytherins erupted into applause. The rest of the school was noticeably silent. Hermione felt her heart sink horribly; Snape might be on Dumbledore's side, but he was beyond doubt the nastiest git to grace the surface of the earth - and his cheer since Sirius's 'death' hadn't enamoured him to her in any way whatsoever.
Harry and Ron were looking at her, and at each other, in the liveliest horror. "How could Dumbledore do this to us?" Harry moaned. "During our last year here, too! This is like a nightmare come true."
"'Kindly consented', my ass," Ron growled, glaring at the hook-nosed teacher with venom to spare. "He's been willing to kill for this job for all our school years, and probably before! Slimy git."
As much as Hermione disapproved of Ron's open insults and hostility towards Hogwarts teachers, she found herself, at that moment, in full agreement with him.
This is going to be a long, hard year.
***
Two weeks later, without much contact between the separate members of the Pack, Hermione found herself caught in the middle of the worst lesson of Double Potions that she had ever endured in her lifetime.
It began tolerably, in a class of only Gryffindors (thankfully, the Slytherins were in a discliplinary meeting with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore), on a cool autumn morning. Unfortunately, Snape seemed to have had a bad Defense Against the Dark Arts class just before, because he was a filthy mood and ready to slaughter anybody who got on his side.
And wasn't it just typical, Hermione thought, that on that particular day, his bad side was tickled by none other than her.
They were concocting a Brew that would Stopper-Death, a potion that Snape explained coolly would freeze a wounded or even dying person's bodily functions so that they would remain in that state until a cure could be found, or something of the sort. The potion was extremely dangerous, advanced and powerful, he said, and if the potion was brewed even slightly wrong (his contemptous eyes lingered on Neville), there would be terrible consequences, even a possible reverse of the Brew's purpose - in simple terms, an accident could lead to death.
So it was with a very tense atmosphere that the class paired up and began collecting the ingredients that Snape wrote down on the board. Hermione was working with Dean Thomas, and left him to the duty of getting the water to boil just right while she went up to Snape's table to collect the ingredients.
She'd read all about this potion, so she gave Dean an encouraging smile and didn't think there'd be a problem with their brew. Neville, however, who was working with Seamus right under Snape's nose, was a different story. But Hermione forced herself to try not to interfere.
However, when Harry nudged her from her other side and jerked his head towards Neville, Hermione glanced up and heard Snape, breathing down Neville's neck, tell him and Seamus that they had to stir the brew anti-clockwise.
But I just saw Neville and Seamus stir the brew anti-clockwise six times like they were supposed to. If Snape makes them do it once more . . .
Her eyes sprang wide open in horror. "Professor Snape!" she squealed, practically knocking Harry over in her attempt to get out into the aisle of the classroom. "They can't stir their potion once more!"
"Miss Granger, what do you want this time?" Snape asked sharply, looking at her irritably.
"You can't make Neville stir the potion again, unless he adds the dragon claws," she said urgently. "He's already stirred it - six times!"
"Miss Granger, do not assume that you are aware of everything that occurs in my class, and do not ever give me an order again!" Snape barked angrily. "Ten points from Gryffindor! I haven't seen Longbottom stir his cauldron six times, and I am therefore asking him to do it."
Hermione stared at Neville. "But he already - "
The entire class was watching. Harry had pulled out his wand and he and Ron were moving closer to Hermione, almost as if they were afraid Snape would curse her in rage.
"Longbottom, how many times did you stir your cauldron?" Snape asked in a dangerous, silky voice.
Neville's lower lip quivered. He was pale, and looked absolutely terrified. Seamus obviously hadn't paid attention when Neville had stirred, because he shot Hermione a desperate glance. Finally Neville whispered: "I'm not sure, sir. Maybe five."
"Five," Snape repeated with a mocking look at Hermione. "One more is correct, is it not, Miss Granger? Or are you about to disagree with me about my own class."
"He isn't sure," Hermione ground out through gritted teeth. "If he does it again, he and Seamus could die! I saw him stir six times; I was keeping an eye on him - "
"Of course you were," Snape cut her off smoothly, looking like remarkably like a snake about to strike a mouse in the bushes. "Dear Miss Granger, the superior know-it-all of the year, the patronizing witch who deems Longbottom below her skill and therefore keeps a close eye on him to make sure he does screw up - you don't have a very good opinion of Longbottom, do you, Granger?"
"She never said that!" Ron snapped.
"Another ten points from Gryffindor, Weasely, for contradicting me and attempting to be chivalrous - Miss Granger may have changed, but she is not that attractive, believe me."
Hermione felt her throat clog with tears and her head throb like someone was jabbing at the inside with spears. Her grip on her wand tightened shooting red sparks around the classroom. She was tired . . . tired from studying, exhausted from duelling practice and potion-research, weary from missing the rest of her pack and aching futilely for Sirius . . . she was just so tired.
"I'm sorry." She said, her voice sounding flat and like it was coming from far away. "I can't keep going on like this."
And she turned, much to the shock of her classmates, her expression calm, and walked out of the classroom. Once she was safely away from the dungeons, however, she felt the emotion come roaring back - pain and weariness and fear of what Voldemort might do next, fear of losing her friends to this battle, pain, desire, love, pain, exhaustion.
She needed the Pack. She needed Sirius. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand and whom she could feel safe with - and Harry and Ron were still in class, no doubt due for detention because they were undoubtedly yelling at Snape now.
As she thought about Sirius, and the grief of his 'death', another thought, a memory, drifted into her head and she found herself with an idea.
The office was on the third floor, basically unused now, on the west side of the school . . . students sometimes went there to practice spells and no one would be there now as there was another hour before lunch - and she suddenly had a different use for the office.
Hermione hurried up to the office and slipped inside, closing and magically locking the door, hoping that no teacher felt the urge to walk nearby or come in there. Turning around, she went to the merrily burning fireplace and fumbled in a small flower pot. There, at the very bottom, was just a handful of Floo Powder, remains from Umbridge's days in the office (Hermione just hoped Floo Powder didn't expire or something like some Muggle things did).
She tossed the handful of powder into the fire, and dropped to her knees. The fire glowed and blazed bright green and with a sigh, she stuck her head into it, feeling the cold stone knobbly under her knees, and yelled as clearly as she could: "Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London!"
Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt everything spin and swirl around her, and when she felt the nauseating movement halt, she tentatively opened her eyes and found herself staring up into the gloomy study of Grimmauld Place, where she had worked out the prophecy.
There was, as far as she could see, no one in the room, and with an inward groan and a brief thought that this was becoming habit with her, she saw only one solution.
"Sirius!" she hollered. "Remus! SIRIUS!"
After a few more cries, during which she paused to see if she could hear anyone approaching, she was certain the two men were either tending to Buckbeak, or not in the house. She was ready to burst into exasperated and disappointed tears, when the sound of footsteps reached her ears and voices grew louder.
"I could have sworn I heard Hermione calling me," a familiar voice was saying as the footsteps grew louder. "I'm telling you, Moony, it was coming from the study."
"Padfoot, are you sure this isn't just wishful thinking?" Remus's steadily louder voice sounded distinctly amused. Hermione blinked. Wishful thinking? "I mean, after all - "
"I don't think so, but maybe - "
Dear God, don't leave now! "HEY!" Hermione screeched quickly. "I am bloody calling here, Remus! SIRIUS BLACK!
"Merlin's beard!" Remus sounded rather startled, and Hermione saw two pairs of legs hurry into the room, and the next second, they were both kneeling down in front of the fire and staring at her with expressions of surprise and concern. Hermione tried not to stare at Sirius, who looked even better than when she'd last seen him - he'd obviously been eating. "Hermione, where - ?"
"I'm impressed." Sirius chuckled. "You're supposed to be having class now, and here you are." his eyes shadowed briefly. "Is something wrong?"
She shrugged, but wasn't sure whether they caught the awkward movement, seeing as only her head was visible, wasn't it? "I don't know . . . maybe. I left class - Potions. With the new DADA teacher." She finished bitterly.
Remus smiled and Sirius made a face, a growling sound coming from his throat. "What did the git do?"
She hadn't intended to pour out all her concerns and fears and worries to them, hadn't meant to cause them any more concern for her, but she found herself pouring out all her weariness and anger and exasperation and woes to two very sympathetic ears, and they looked back at her, eyes full of concern when she was done.
" - And I'd had enough, so I walked out." She finished wearily. "Dumbledore could probably get me back into Snape's class, though, so that's not really what I'm worried about."
"Hey, it's all right, 'Mione," Remus said soothingly. "Things will get better, and Snape's always been like that, so there's really nothing to be afraid of from him."
Sirius appeared more inclined to be angry. "You're telling me the - " his language became unprintable and made Remus smirk " - actually said that you may have changed but you're not so attractive that Ron should defend you?" he demanded. At her nod, he made a disbelieving noise. "Don't listen to him, 'Mione, he's probably started noticing you himself, and hates it."
"Yeah, right." Hermione snorted.
"I'm serious, I mean, what male hasn't - of course, Snape couldn't be considered quite normal," Sirius added reflectively, while Remus chuckled in the background at something that he was obviously finding funny - Hermione wondered what. She didn't have time to think about this, however, as Sirius continued ruthlessly: "I'm not quite sure I like the thought of him looking at you that way, but if he dares to come on to you in any way, tell me right away."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and she couldn't help but giggle. Sirius was awfully good for her morale, she had to admit. If only there was something behind his words . . .
"I think not, Sirius." She told him with a smile. "You'd be the last person I'd tell if Snape, in some alternate reality, was to 'come on to me', as you so delicately put it."
He grinned. "Why not?"
"Because, Padfoot, you'd probably kill him, that's why." Remus informed with twinkling eyes. "So, Hermione, what about - ?"
He never got to finish the sentence, because at that moment a voice yelled Alohomora and the door burst open. Hermione was almost afraid to pull her head out and she saw Sirius and Remus's expressions change - then, to her utter relief, she heard Harry yell: "Oh, thank heavens I found you! Are you talking to Sirius and Remus? Hermione, tell them to Apparate outside the grounds and get here right now!"
Hermione dutifully passed on the urgent message, her relief fading, and as Sirius and Remus disappeared from the study with loud Crack!s, she yanked her head out and coughing, leaped to her feet to face Harry.
"Where's Ron?"
"On the fourth floor deserted corridor."
Hermione allowed Harry to practically haul her out of the room, brandishing their wands, and towards the stairs. "What happened?" she asked, almost afraid to know. Voldemort couldn't have - ?
"Looks like trouble." Harry answered grimly.
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TBC.
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A/N: Thank you so much! - to all the people who have reviewed so far. The reviews have really helped, and I honestly don't know how I'd write without all your encouragement! I hope you guys liked this chapter, and I'll update as soon as possible!