S.W.E.A.T.S., chapter 2:
S.L.I.P.
Later that morning, Hermione was walking to Professor Remus John Lupin's office, holding a ten-foot parchment neatly folded in her hand. She wore a button that touted S.W.E.A.T.S., her new organization to achieve vacation time for the Malfoy silk worms, proudly on her school robes.
At breakfast, she attempted to explain S.W.E.A.T.S. to Harry and Ron—unsuccessfully, to say the least. Honestly, she thought as she walked / A/N: multi-talented, that one/those two should have a bit more social consciousness. It's like living with neanderthals sometimes, the way those two just snicker and grunt and roll their eyes whenever I'm trying to make the world a better place. How can they not care about something so important as this!
Hermione had tried to explain how giving silk-worms a vacation could create better financial security for Britain. That if the Malfoys continued to enslave them and work them too hard, they could die out, causing a strain on the economy by drastically increasing the amount import traffic in Britain's ports and making their silk products increase in price. And that if the Malfoys had to start showing concern for their silk-worms, then maybe they would become nicer people, and turn against Voldemort and, more importantly, treat their house elves better, too.
And Malfoy would be dressed more decently in our common room.
She had tried to make Harry understand this (except for the part about Malfoy's pajamas), but he seemed to think she was just becoming an over-analytic tree hugger. What does he know, anyway. She'd told him he was being very rude and insensitive, and stormed off in a huff to hide in the library and finish up an extra-credit assignment for Professor Lupin.
Of course he's insensitive. He wasn't raised to have socio-economic awareness. Honestly, the Dursleys never let him out of the cupboard long enough to even realize there was an outside world, she thought as she arrived at Professor Lupin's office door. She knocked loudly, so it could be heard over the swing music she could hear inside the room.
"Entrez!" Came a voice from inside.
Hermione opened the door slowly, and was met by a strange scene—well, strange for anyone else that is.
Professor Lupin's office suited him perfectly. It was well-lit, spare but neat, except for all the books lining the walls. She supposed his teacher's salary was quite good for him to afford all of them. She'd taken peeks at the titles before, whenever she'd dropped off extra credit assignments like she was today. He loved muggle literature, and she had been especially surprised to see all of Jane Austen's works prominently displayed on the shelves (beside a picture of Lily Evans Potter in a frame of Moon Petals). But then, he'd always seemed like a romantic.
Currently, he was standing beside his well-organized desk, stroking a large chocolate dog on a pedestal with his gentle, nimble hands. He wore a beret and a red scarf around his neck—which was a new for him. He never seemed much for fashion, always having to wear patched robes and ratty shoes. Tears fall from his amber eyes into his glass of Jack Daniels.
"Professor Lupin?"
Lupin started, even though he'd heard her knock, and quickly turned from his chocolate art and hid his Jack behind his back. Hermione noticed that his mustached-lip has quivering a bit and that his amber eyes shone brightly, as if he'd been crying. He must be getting drunk over Sirius again, she thought. Poor little werewolf.
Lupin, however, pulled himself together to greet Hermione. He turned to switch off the phonograph so they could converse more comfortably, then came around to the front of his desk, setting down his glass behind him deftly. "Ah! Bonjour, madesmoiselle! Comment ça va?"
"Er- I'm fine professor. I came to give you my extra-credit essay." What is with the riddikulus French accent? she wondered silently. But Professor Lupin was not a man she normally questioned, as she had much respect for him, despite his being a Beast.
"Oui, très bien. Donnez-moi le parchment, s'il vous plait."
"Excuse me sir? I don't understand. Why are you speaking in French?"
Lupin chuckled under his breath and leaned forward to pat her chocolate-brown, curly hair. "Well, ma chère, they say that the name "Lupin' sounds French, oui, so obviously I'm French! That ees why I speak with zees outrageous accent, you silly fille! Hmph! Zees ees quite logical." And for some very strange reason, Lupin started whacking his head with his hands...
"Oh. I see."What in Merlin's name? Who are 'they' anyway? Is it like the invisible hand that keeps changing Blaise's gender? His name isn't French, surely he must know this. 'Loup'—with an 'o'—is French for wolf. Oh well, he seems so upset, I'll not disagree with him. "Well, here's that essay you requested for your DADA class. I found that if a werewolf and a metamorphmagus mate, they get pink cubs for babies. They sound pretty cute. Fascinating, really, I mean—"
"Thank you, Miss Granger, that will do." Lupin hastily dropped his "French" persona and took the parchment nervously from Hermione's hand, glancing over it with his oh-so-lyncanthropic amber eyes. "Yes, excellent work as usual. Not to change the subject, but how is Professor Tonks handling the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"
Funny, he looks a bit sheepish asking me that. It's cute, really.
/Confused!HP fans: but I thought you just said Remus was the DADA prof.../
/A/N: So I did. So I did. (grins academically) /
"Oh, Tonks—er—iProfessor/i Tonks is doing a wonderful job!" Hermione answered, quite wisely of course. Lupin grinned shyly as she continued, "It's so much better to have her here teaching us Defense than having her out there catching Death Eaters!"
It was true, the students loved having Tonks—Professor Tonks—for a teacher. She was quite lively in class, and always entertained them with funny faces if they finished up early. Quite educational.
"Excellent!" Lupin eyed her warily for a moment with his sorrowful amber eyes, then smoothly pulled out his wand and aimed it toward her face, mumbling something about Tonks and love...
/ Crazy!HP fans: I knew it! I knew Lupin was evil/
"Obliviate!"
Hermione was very dazed for a moment. She clutched the back of a wooden chair as she regained herself. "Professor? I'm very sorry, but I can't remember why I'm here."
Lupin grinned and turned back to his desk, which had neatly stacked papers, a Hewlett-Packard ™ computer, and an iron with pushpins stuck into it. "Oh that's fine, Miss Granger. Not to worry. Here, have some chocolate. It will make you feel better." Professor Lupin proceeded to timidly hand Hermione a Hershey's ™ bar. She took it thankfully—she'd been so mad at Harry and Ron at breakfast that she had barely eaten. This is really why I do all the extra-credit for Professor Lupin, She giggled to herself. "I was just about to give you your next DADA extra-credit assignment," Lupin continued. "I'd like you to do a comprehensive aesthetic analysis of iL.H.O.O.Q./i by Marcel Duchamp and a summary of its reception history."
"Oh, the Mona Lisa with a mustache?"
"Yes, of course. How about, oh, 1,000 inches of parchment?"
"Is that all professor? I'll give you 2,000." He has no idea how easy this is for me, Hermione chuckled to herself.
"Very well, then."
At this point, Peter Pettigrew bursts into the office and cruelly rearranges Lupin's Jane Austen books, cackling evilly.
Hermione's head shot up and she gasped. Lupin's favorite books! Oh no! "Professor, isn't that Peter Pettigrew?" She asked, pointing toward the shelves with one hand, her other covering her gaping mouth.
"Who? I know no Peter Pettigrew," Lupin said without interest as he leaned against his desk, poring over a ten-foot-long parchment that had pictures of furry pink cubs.
What? Of course he knew him! What kind of trick is he trying to pull? And what is that he's looking at? "Wormtail? The traitor? The one who got Harry's parents killed?" Hermione pressed, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture.
"Hmmm... sounds familiar." Lupin looked up and out the window, losing himself in thought for a moment, pondering moral relativism in all its weightiness. He was fiddling with his red scarf while he thought very siriusly. "But I assure you, I'd never associate with a person as awful as that person you're describing. My Wolfey-sense would see through him straight away," he said as he looked at her and tapped his index finger on his nose.
"Your Wolfey-sense? Sir?" He's sounding more and more like a certaincomic-book character...
"Yes, dear. I have remarkably intensified senses from being a werewolf. Makes up for the pain and the prejudice, I assure you. I can spot out a traitor a mile away, and I can smell that you get very excited about extra homework," he said, obviously very satisfied with himself.
Hermione was flabbergasted. And looked very pretty while she was at it! "But sir, doesn't Newt Scamander say on page 42, first paragraph, lines 1 to 2 of Fantastic Beasts and Where to find Them, Published by Obscurus Books at 18a Diagaon Alley, London say that werewolves are 'otherwise sane and normal' when they're not in wolf form?"
"You forgot to capitalize 'Find,' Hermione."
"Oh no!" Hermione promptly forgot her very-important point over this grievous error in citation.
Meanwhile, Peter Pettigrew not-so-stealthily sneaks behind Lupin's desk and knocks over the portrait of Francis Picabia and scatters Lupin's artful DADA syllabus all over the floor.
/ A/N: the syllabus makes much more sense now/
"No one expects the Rodent Inquisition!" Peter squeals, holding his hands up in the air in a touchdown gesture, then creeps out the room quite ratfully.
"What was that?" Lupin asked. He turned around and saw his papers on the floor. He looked confused and a bit miffed as he began to pick them up, tipping over his Jack-and-Tears in the process. He growled at the alcoholic mess of artistic inanity.
Hermione thought it best not to push the professor any more since he obviously refused to admit he knew Pettigrew and was getting a bit vicious over the mess. He was a very tidy person, after all. Messes were highly insulting to him. Hermione supposed that it was him trying to exert control over what he could in his life.
"I have no idea what that was. Perhaps a gush of wind," she lied, noticing his windows were closed. Apparently, Lupin thought nothing of this. "Well I need to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Tonks now. Thanks for the new DADA assignment, Professor Lupin!" She said as she backed away from the werewolf.
/ Bewildered!readers: but... but... DADA...and Defense... /
/ A/N: Be quiet and read some art history. http/ soon as Hermione turned to leave the DADA office, Lupin put his syllabus back into a neat pile on the desk, then burst into tears and turned to hug his large chocolate dog on a pedestal.
While Hermione walked down the corridor toward Defense Against the Dark Arts class, she looked down at her S.W.E.A.T.S. button. Oh, rats. I forgot to ask Professor Lupin if he would be willing to join S.W.E.A.T.S. Well, maybe another time. He did seem a bit preoccupied today. Alright, the French thing was actually downright strange. I wonder if there are lycanthropic side-effects to a werewolf's sanity that haven't been studied? Hey, there's an idea: The Stop Lycanthropic Insanity Project. Hmmm..., Hermione pondered her next political movement.
Suddenly, and without warning, an arrow whizzed by her head.
"SQUEEE!" Shouted Hermione, but in a rather erudite way (seeing as how she is the cleverest witch of her age), turning around to see a beautiful, tall, blonde wood elf with a bow and arrows coming her way.
"Hello, I'm Legolas, Prince of the Wood Elves," he said.
"Why did you nearly kill me with an arrow?" screamed Hermione.
Then she noticed how tall and beautiful this strange being who seemed to be from another universe all together was. And all of a sudden,
/ Hermione morphs into Fangirl!Hermione and suddenly forgets how much she hates talking about hair and makeup. /
"Did Lucius Malfoy do your hair, because those long, blond braids are really intricate!"
Legolas chuckled. "Actually, I taught him all he knows about being beautiful. Anyway, I was shooting arrows to impress girls. Chicks like guys with bow-hunting skills."
/ Hermione drools /
"Well, nice to meet you, fair maiden. I need to get back to the Department of Riddikulus Crossovers now!"
Hermione is drowning in the drool
After standing in a puddle for an hour and completely missing class (which is a very, very bad example for the Head Girl to set, by the way), she morphed out of Fangirl!Hermione mode.
Well, that was a very DADA sort of happening. He was completely out of place, she thought.