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 Six: Fire and Ice
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Once back in Dumbledore's office, with everyone suitably calmed down and reassured about those deep terrors, Harry had a very reasonably question to ask.
"How did they Disapparate?" He demanded of Dumbledore. "We followed them in because we thought they couldn't escape from us so easily. I thought its impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts?"
"I believe we had gone so deep into the forest that we were technically out of Hogwarts grounds and therefore out of the magical protection it bears." Dumbledore responded thoughtfully. "I must congratulate you all, however. You fought and accepted your deepest shadows admirably, and I can see that the prophecies did not make foolish choices."
Hermione shifted slightly in her seat. Her experience wasn't going to be forgotten any time soon . . . and she could see from the faces of the others that they had had equally horrible moments. But they had gotten through them . . . together.
"Voldemort will know by now that Hermione, Harry and I are members of the Pack," Ron mumbled now. There was some surprise on Sirius and Remus's faces. "I let it slip to Dolohov and Lestrange while we were duelling."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Then I'm afraid you and Hermione won't be very safe, even at Hogwarts, Ron," he said quietly.
"Then what do we do?" Remus asked. "We can't risk them any more than they already are."
Sirius nodded, but Hermione noticed that he looked slightly shell-shocked, and his eyes held a certain faraway, wistful yet bitter look that she couldn't comprehend.
"Quite right, Remus. Perhaps it would be best if you three - " Dumbledore looked at the three teenagers and Hermione wondered what he was about to say. " - spent the next few weeks, until after Christmas, perhaps, at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Remus. Harry, you will, of course, have to continually Apparate outside the grounds to come for Quidditch practice and matches - and I shall get your schoolwork to you each day without fail and your assignments can be submitted through me. Apart from assistance from the two young men here, Hermione, you are more than qualified to take on the temporary role of a professor."
Hermione blushed and tried not to look too ecstatic at the thought of going to Grimmauld Place and staying there, as much as she loved Hogwarts. She allowed a grin to seep through, however, as her companions seemed to be openly displaying their delight.
"I'm glad that meets with your approval." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he winked at Hermione. "I shall announce to the teachers at once, and personally escort you five to the gates of the grounds, where you can Disapparate back to the doors of Grimmauld Place."
***
Ten days later, Hermione fell asleep at three in the morning finishing a nasty Defense Against the Dark Arts essay (apparently, Snape wasn't at all pleased - firstly that Sirius was alive and doing his best to antagonize Snape - and that his three favorite tormentees were no longer in his classes), and stumbled in late to breakfast with her hair up magically in a slippery knot and her robe tied loosely at the waist, exposing the top of her short and silky baby doll night'dress'.
"I won't ask." Ron said with a teasing grin, looking at her closely. "Was it - no, I'm not going to ask."
"Wise move." She muttered, pouring out a mug of Butterbeer and leaning back against the kitchen counter. Harry was scribbling at a Transfiguration assignment, Ron was still halfway through a slice of toast with a 'Mad Muggle' comic open in front of him, and Remus was sleepily reading a book called 'Famous Defensive Blunders and their Effects'. Sirius, she noticed, was nowhere in sight and it was probably just as well.
He'd been unaccountably tender in the Chamber of Terror, but since then, something seemed to have happened to make him rather distant and sometimes even stony and downright cold with her. She simply didn't understand it, and she covered up her hurt with an aloof attitude of indifference and sometimes, she had to admit, she was downright snappish.
Swallowing a large mouthful of Butterbeer, she located her S.P.E.W notes on the counter behind her and picked them up, deciding now was as good a time as any to bring the subject up with Remus and ask him what he thought about her new campaign.
He appeared interested, and as they begun talking, Hermione found the animation and earnestness that had once been in her voice and heart regarding that issue, was fading. And she had a good suspicion as to why.
She just couldn't bear it; being around him all the time and seeing him there, so sure and sexy, his body moving with subtle, but definite, strength and muscle, laughing with the others or grinning at something with a bit of hair flopping in his eyes . . .
FORGET him, damn it, 'Mione.
Typically, he chose that moment to walk into the room, and also typically, the first thing his eyes fell on were the sheaf of paper's in Hermione's hand as she leaned against the counter, and the single sheet in Remus's. Then his eyes raked over her.
"Nice nightgown." He said, his voice low and gravelly.
Hermione nearly choked on a mouthful of Butterbeer, and she gathered enough composure to shoot the Marauder a frosty glare. He smirked and looked at Remus.
"S.P.E.W?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
Ron snorted. "Yeah, 'Mione's now trying to win over Remus with some Diagon Alley-recruitmen progra - " Hermione glared at Ron, and he finally seemed to notice. "Ah, sorry, 'Mione, it's just a little - well - old - don't ya think?"
"No, I don't." Hermione snapped.
Harry glanced up from his parchment. "Don't you two start now," he begged, grinning. "At least let me finish this essay so that I can get out of here, and then you can begin."
They glared at him.
"Moony, don't you think you're a little old for campaigns like S.P.E.W?" Sirius asked, to his credit, in a mild tone.
Hermione's jaw dropped. Since when did he indirectly mock her efforts with S.P.E.W? Or was she simply being over-sensitive?
"I think she has a point," Remus shrugged.
"Are you accusing me of being childish?" Hermione demanded, directing her glare towards Sirius, who turned to her. His gaze sweeped her from head to toe with that sexy slowness, and it only made her more indignant. Finally, he met her eyes.
He shrugged. "I didn't say that. I just think you're being a little - unrealistic. How many people do you know who'll agree that house-elves deserve equal rights, other than Dumbledore? It's just not the way things are done."
"Only because the magical world is so self-involved that they can't see anything beyond what they've always done and known!" Now the passion was coming back. "House-elves have feelings and dreams and emotions too - just like humans - and it just isn't fair to keep them in cruel captivity like Dobby used to be - "
"And like Kreacher?" Sirius asked quietly, crossing his arms over his Muggle clothing-clad, white-T-shirted chest.
The other three occupants of the room were watching with a mixture of awe and amusement. Hermione flinched at Sirius's words. "Like humans, some house-elves deserve to be condemned and to rot in the fires of hell," she said in a hard voice, so that he wouldn't detect the extreme emotion behind it. "But I'm talking about them as a general population, a race."
"Look, your theory about the magical world only seeing inside their own box doesn't exactly hold up," he countered, shaking his head. "What about the Muggles too, eh? They have maids and cooks and those butler thingies - "
"Whom are all paid and given holidays and not treated like personal slaves!"
"But there has been slavery in the Muggle world, now, hasn't there? Or did my Muggle Studies class teach me wrong?" He seemed to be mocking her, an odd light in his eyes that she couldn't read. "And unlike our treatment of house-elves, Muggle slavery was cruel bondage."
Hermione seethed. "That changed. Why can't this change as well?" she demanded angrily, her voice growing colder now. "You were a Marauder, and people say you were a rebel. Yet you seem just as fixated as the rest of the magical world in believing that there's a certain way that things have to be, and that's the way they should stay. You won't even imagine - or dream - of possibilities that aren't supposed to be!"
"Maybe because dreaming of those possibilities only lead you to reach for unattainable stars and lead to you getting hurt." He growled with such powerful, quiet emotion that she was startled, and she could see Ron's eyes widening out of the corner of her eye. Sirius shook his head. "I change my mind: you are being childish. But then again, you are a child."
Her blood pressure began to rise. Why was he suddenly so bitterly fixated on the fact that she was 'a child'. And she wasn't!
"Childish, am I?" She snapped. "Well, forget thinking out of the box in regard to house-elves. What about simple prejudice, simple oppression and 'racism' per say?"
Sirius shrugged. "What about it? It can't be that intolerable."
"Well, I shouldn't expect much more from a pureblood," Hermione said in frigid tones of ice, straightening up and placing the papers back on the counter with dangerous care. "But speaking as someone your kind enjoy calling a Mudblood, I think I can safely inform you of the fact that magical prejudice and racism can quickly become intolerable."
Something flickered in Sirius's eyes, but Hermione didn't wait to see what it was. Slowly, she turned on her heel and left the room before the tears stinging her eyes threatened to spill out.
***
"Hermione?" There was another persistent knock on her bedroom door. "'Mione, please, open up! I need to talk to you!"
She groaned, and hauled herself up off the bed. "Go away, Sirius, I don't feel like talking." she snapped loudly.
"Don't make me use magic, 'Mione!"
"Hah." She snorted and glared at the door. She received the shock of her life when she heard Sirius's voice mutter Alohomora and the door clicked open. He marched in (the prat! she thought indignantly) and closed the door behind him.
Thank Merlin she had changed out of her nightclothes! And had completed the process of changing as well!
"What do you want?" she asked coolly, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.
"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry." He said quietly, tossing his wand onto the bed near hers, and walking towards her. He shrugged. "I don't think I can explain how sorry I am for what I said - I didn't mean any of it - you know I - " he sighed and raked a hand through his hair in frustration, lifting guilty eyes to hers. " - I'm sorry." he repeated.
She was floored. Sirius Black - apologizing? Since when?
"Say something." He pleaded, looking like he'd just broken her head open with a misplaced hex. "I really am sorry, I can't hang around knowing you're angry with me . . . forgive me?"
His eyes were so melting, and so plain darn sexy, that she was having a hard time focusing on his words. She swallowed and forced a slight shrug. "It just hurt a little, that's all. I thought you - of all people - would understand what prejudice is like. I mean, people judge you all the time because you're a Black."
"Don't I know it?" he muttered bitterly. He was pacing the room slowly, and she walked over towards the wall to let Hedwig in through the window. "I honestly didn't mean a word of what I said to you - I was just looking to provoke, to get angry - "
"Why?" she asked softly. "You've been acting a little odd all week. Is it about Voldemort?"
"If only it was," he sighed heavily as he drew nearer to her and looked like he was fighting back something strong. "But it isn't - fortunately, or unfortunately."
She looked up at him closely. "Then why are you so frustrated, Sirius?"
He uttered something under his breath that sounded like the inaudible mixture of swear words and a reply. She raised her eyebrows. "Pardon me? What was that?"
"Because all I want to do right now is kiss you and I can't." He growled out, clenching his jaw angrily. Hermione felt her insides freeze in shock - and amazement - and numbly, she registered the muscle jerking in his jaw, the angry, frustrated muscle . . .
Slowly, she lifted her hand to trace his upper arm gently. "Who says you can't?" She asked softly, backing into the wall and almost magnetically leading him with her. "Definitely not me, I'll tell you that."
"You might regret this." He warned, that slow smile beginning to curve his mouth.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you won't?"
That seemed to do it. He took a step closer and before she knew it, his mouth was on hers and she was kissing him back, her arms moving up to his shoulders and his neck. Her heart was hammering so hard and so loudly, and she could feel the racing of his own through the thin cotton on his chest. This was ecstasy . . . this was passion . . . this was fire.
She broke the kiss and began kissing his neck and nibbling gently on the warm, throbbing flesh between his ear and his collar. His mouth, warm and soft, was in her hair, sending tingles of flame through her brain and downwards. As she kissed along his jaw line with its shadow of razor stubble (she hadn't known wizards used normal shaving stuff), he slid a hand under her shirt and moved up her stomach, and he moaned.
As he lowered his head to kiss her again, she tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him hard and sweetly. He was on fire, his nerves and body coming alive with the kind of feeling he'd never felt before and never dreamed he could feel. Every touch, every millimeter of her skin brushing against his sent sparks and spirals of heat and tenderness through his entire body, and he knew he could stay here . . . with her . . . forever.
Suddenly, the knocking on the door finally penetrated his numbed consciousness and Hermione broke away gently at the same time. "Damn." He muttered angrily, an erasable smile on his mouth nonetheless.
She smiled up at him. "I take it you don't regret it." She murmured, glancing at the door and feeling slightly irritated. It would be typical of Ron to have the worst possible timing in the world . . . Sirius grinned at her, and the smile made her knees feel weak all over again. Slowly, he disentangled his arms and hands from her body and lowered his head to kiss her softly, tenderly, in the hollow at the base of her throat. She almost collapsed from the jelly that her legs turned to - no wand magic required, but this was magic.
"No way in hell." He responded huskily, before turning around and with a wink at her, walked towards the door. His pace gave her a moment to straighten her clothes and make some attempt to do the same to her hair, but she was smiling. At least she knew he cared. And even if he wasn't in love with her, she knew he did want her - and that was something.
Of course, it was indeed Ron, standing on the other side of the door and Hermione and Sirius looked at him with identical expressions of expectation.
He was grinning broadly, and appeared to be fighting back laughter. "Uh - sorry to - er - interrupt - but Remus - rather reluctantly, I might add - suggested - that I call you two down for - er - lunch. Harry would also like to add that - he assures you that - you can take your - er - time."
Sirius hid his smirk. "We'll go down with you," He replied smilingly, "And you can - er - assure Remus and Harry that you weren't - er - interrupting."
Hermione giggled at Ron's face turning beet red. He bolted for the stairs, and Sirius chuckled as they both followed at a more reasonable pace. "Well, they suspect, of course," he shrugged, "And Remus probably dropped hints anyway. But I doubt any of them are certain of anything."
"I agree." Hermione actually hoped they weren't certain of anything. For a little while, some 'forbidden' secrets were worth keeping.
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TBC.
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A/N: I think this chapter is rather shorter, but I'm not exactly great at writing kissing scenes . . . anyway, hope you guys are enjoying the story as it goes on, and please keep reviewing, I really appreciate your feedback. Thanks!