Hermione waited patiently beside the massive statue of armor that was now very familiar to her. Perseus would be there any minute. They'd been meeting here every Tuesday since Harry and Ron had stopped speaking to her, and it was the highlight of her week each and every week. She had convinced Perseus (not that he needed much convincing) to help her practice magic. She had been hesitant to ask; she had no idea how he'd respond to such a suggestion, but she had been hopeful.
Under his tutelage she was beginning to understand magic in ways she had only read in books. All the books she read, about theories and practical applications, were no substitute for the feeling of magic rushing through her body, or the joy she felt finally performing a new and difficult spell. Each and every time Perseus would nod and smile, and his approval would wash over her like warm rays of sun.
She was pulled from her thoughts with a squeak as the boy materialized in front of her. She had been trying to learn that particular spell for a month, but with no success. She couldn't make even the tiniest hair on her head disappear. Perseus had told her it was a difficult spell, but still he performed it each time without fail — it was beyond frustrating.
"Well come on then," she said, urging him towards the wall. She really wished she could get in without him, but was a bit afraid to ask — and she had no idea if he was even capable of altering the magic in such a way.
She looked around nervously as he moved to the wall, patting the pocket of her robe to ensure she still had the map. She had managed to take it before she left, with Harry doing his secret lessons with Professor Lupin and Ron doing whatever he does when he's alone.
She felt bad for stealing Harry's map, especially with them not being the best of friends right now, but this was important. She didn't want to lose Harry and Ron, and she didn't want to lose Perseus, so she couldn't risk Harry seeing them together. Not yet. Perhaps when he had matured, and could grow beyond his prejudices, but not now.
Perseus grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stepped through the wall. A chill ran down her spine and her skin goosebumped. A feeling of foreboding washed over her as she passed through the wards. She shuddered in relief as warmth spread through her body, flowing from where her and Perseus' hands met.
She rubbed at her hand when Perseus released it, his magic leaving pinpricks behind. He had explained the wards to her, and the magic amazed her still. That it could scan their magic, their very intentions, was so interesting. Everytime she learned something new about magic, she became more and more entranced.
"Perseus," she said as he sat down in his usual seat in front of the fireplace. "I brought it."
He looked at her curiously, raising a brow.
She pulled the map from her pocket and placed it on the table in front of them. "Do be careful please," she said, watching him pick up the piece of parchment and run his fingers across it gently. "It is one of the few things Harry has left from his father."
He nodded absentmindedly, and that was enough for her. She watched with fascination as he examined the map; he rubbed the parchment between his fingers, his sweeping hands lingered in some spots for reasons unknown to her. She wanted to be in his head; to know what he knew, to feel the magic the way he could feel it. "A password," he muttered. Hermione leaned in closer. How he had deduced that without even the use of his wand would likely always be a mystery to her, much to her irritation.
Finally he sat the map down on the table, and pulled out his wand. "I need you to write some things down for me," he said. "When I start talking, you start writing."
Hermione hurried to get a quill and some parchment from her bag. When she finally got settled, she nodded. Her skin tingled and she was practically bouncing in her seat. She didn't know why, but she was excited to be part of this, to witness magic she had never seen before, to hopefully learn something new. It was what she lived for.
With a nod of his own, his wand began waving over the map. After a moment of waving he said, "Protean Charm." She wrote it down quickly, her scrawl crisp and neat. She had worked painstakingly to perfect writing with a quill, and she had taken pride in learning something that made her feel like she belonged. "Homunculus Charm," he said. For another two or so minutes, he listed off charms and spells that made the map work, and Hermione wrote and memorized them all with rapt attention.
She put down her quill as Perseus finally stopped waving his wand, and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples.
"Are you alright, Perseus?"
He waved her worries away. "I'm fine," he said, now covering his eyes. She moved to his side, rubbing him gently on the back.
"What happened?"
He uncovered his eyes, and Hermione could see clearly that they were bloodshot, streaks of red surrounding the violet of his irises. "Backlash," he said, sitting forward and focusing on the map. "Breaking down an enchanted object into its components is incredibly taxing on the mind, and is generally not meant to be taken on by a single individual."
"Perseus!" she admonished, sitting on the arm of his chair, rubbing his shoulder. "What possessed you to do such a thing? Our friendship being a secret isn't worth you hurting yourself!"
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I fought a troll for you before we were friends, Hermione, you don't think I'd brave a headache?"
She had no response, the reminder of the incident with the troll unsettling her — the horrible echo of Perseus' arm crunching under the weight of the troll filling her mind. She pushed the thought away as best she could, ignoring the shudder it sent through her body. "So can you alter the map? Change it so that it won't show the two of us together?"
He hummed quietly to himself, before he picked up the map and said the password — which she had not told him. She watched over his shoulder as the map came to life. Instead of the map she had seen before, words scrawled across the page.
Mr Moony thinks we have a new guest.
Mr Padfoot would like to welcome you to the Marauder's Map, the secret to all things Mischief here at Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts!
Perseus' hands gripped the parchment tighter at this message.
Mr Prongs would like to tell Mr Padfoot that nobody calls this place 'Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts.'
Mr Padfoot would like for Mr Prongs to get off his back and get laid for once!
Mr Moony would like to remind Mr Padfoot and Prongs that this is not the place for their bickering.
Hermione's face scorched as line after line of vulgarity lit up the page, and she tore her eyes away with a soft cry of, "Oh!" She wasn't sheltered by any means, but her parents rarely cursed and she'd never even heard of some of the things said on the parchment.
She turned back when Perseus said nothing, still looking intently at the map, unbothered by the expletives on display. He looked at her, his violet eyes intense. "Is Potter aware that his father is essentially inside this map?"
Hermione stared at him. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, glancing at the map. "Of course he's not in the map."
"Not him, no," Perseus said, looking at the map once more. "Think of it more like a portrait. It's not him, but it's him."
She understood the idea with startling clarity, and understood even better she couldn't tell Harry — not yet at least. They still weren't speaking, and he'd want to know how she knew about it to begin with. "Can you do it? I know it's quite difficult — I read in Enchanted Heavens that altering someone else's enchantments is quite hard —"
"Yes, I can do it."
She blushed as he cut her off. Most times he let her ramble — it made her believe that perhaps his head was hurting a bit more than he let on, his bloodshot eyes certainly gave credence to that.
He rubbed at his throat. "The ability to alter the map is actually part of the enchantments. They probably figured there was more to the castle they hadn't yet discovered, and wanted to leave a door in the loop for easy access."
She leaned closer to him, and trying to ignore the smell of his shampoo (something minty), she examined the map. "And how do you enter this…door?"
"A key. Any person who shares the blood of any one of the four of the creators will be able to edit the map," he said. She frowned. Neither she nor Perseus were related to Harry's father, and they had no idea who the other three Marauders were.
She gasped as without warning Perseus drew the wand across his hand, and she watched with horrified fascination as a gash opened along his palm. Her grip on his shoulder tightened as blood filled his hand; clenching his fist, he squeezed it over the map, and drops of crimson splashed silently onto the parchment.
She watched with trepidation as the drops stained the parchment, and she swore she had just watched him ruin Harry's map, one of the last pieces of his family — she blinked. The blood was gone. She never took her eyes off the parchment, and where there had one been big, round splotches of rapidly darkening crimson, there was nothing.
"What?" She turned to Perseus. It was clear what had happened, but still she couldn't resist asking the obvious question if only to hear it from Perseus himself. "Where did it go?"
"It accepted my blood," he said, staring at the map.
I knew he was going to say that. "How did you know it would? Is it Siri—your father?"
"I had a feeling," he said, his wand in hand again. He paused, looking at her, his eyes flickering to her neck. "You may want to back up," he said. "I don't have any idea how this kind of magic might affect your Time Turner."
Her heart thudded in her chest and her mouth dried up instantly. How does he know? How could he possibly…it clicked into place in her mind at once. If even Ron noticed my abnormal schedule, of course Perseus noticed as well. He was entirely too smart for his own good; he always seemed to have the extra piece of information necessary to complete whatever puzzle he was looking at. How he knew a Time Turner was the item she was using, or even what a Time Turner was, she had no clue. It was a highly regulated object; according to Professor McGonagall, their existence alone was a secret.
She couldn't even stare at him to try and gauge anything in his eyes, as he was gazing so intently at the map. After dropping such a bomb on her, that he somehow knew what was her most kept secret, he didn't even acknowledge it. It occurred to her that to him, it was something he considered a useless tidbit of information. Yet still she was burning to know how he knew what a Time Turner was. His deductive reasoning wasn't hard to follow if one knew what a Time Turner was to begin with, in fact she was positive she'd have easily been able to make the same connection. But how did he, a boy no older than herself, know such a sensitive piece of information?
Taking a deep breath to settle herself, she took a few steps back, turning her mind back to the problem at hand as he weaved his wand over the map. His focus on the map was more important right now than her need for answers, but as soon as he was done (and had explained all the complicated magic he did), he would be answering her questions, and no amount of verbal acrobatics would allow him to slither out of the conversation.
He did it again! she thought to herself, glaring at his back. Everytime I bring up his father, he distracts me. She was beginning to see how easily the boy could manipulate her, using her own curiosity and mind against her. He probably wasn't worried about his magic interacting with her Time Turner at all; he was just trying to set her off balance to avoid answering another question, and it had worked. Again.
The map flashed green, then yellow, then pink, before Perseus put away his wand and all but slumped in his seat.
She squeezed his shoulder gently. "Perseus?"
He didn't respond. She shook him gently, and when his head lolled to the side, she was on her feet immediately, wand in hand. "Reenervate."
For a moment he didn't move, and Hermione was preparing to cast the spell again when his eyes finally slid open.
He sat up with a raspy groan and dropped his head into his hands. His hair hung, blocking his face from her view. "Perseus, are you alright? Do I need to get Madame Pomphrey?"
His response was to take her hands in his and squeeze them lightly while he clenched his eyes shut.
She let him hold her hands. She had never seen him like this, not even when his throat gave him trouble. He looked so…sapped. His body sagged and even his hair seemed to hang limply around his head.
Eventually, he pulled his hands away from hers' and sat up. "Better?" she asked. He certainly looked better; his skin had lost its pallor and his eyes were mildly less red.
"Yes," he mumbled, leaning back in the seat. He looked exhausted, but Hermione had her questions, and she would have her answers. He had dodged them for far too long.
"You know more about your father than you're telling me, don't you?"
"You know more about your father than you're telling me, don't you?"
Perseus wanted to groan at the question. He had hoped — uselessly — that his question about her secret ministry provided Time Turner was enough to distract her. I should've known better, he thought to himself. The girl was as persistent as she was intelligent, and just clever enough to recognize his more overt attempts at changing the subject. His earlier shock and awe method was raw and lacked nuance, but he couldn't really offer any better at the time with his brain scrambled.
At the moment, he was too tired to come up with any half truths or evasion, and the look in her cinnamon brown eyes told him she would be relentless. He'd answer her questions, at least to the point that it wouldn't endanger his father. Hermione would be sure to take any pertinent information to Professor McGonagall if she thought it might keep her friends safe, and she didn't seem to care much who she scorned in the process as long as she thought she did the right thing.
It was commendable, but it was incredibly annoying. She could be convinced to keep some things to herself, but ultimately she relied on her own knowledge and logic to make decisions.
Wanting to get the interrogation over with as quickly as possible so he could go sleep in his bed, he said, "Yes."
She did not look surprised, or even triumphant at getting the answer. She just stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Well why haven't you said anything? Why haven't you helped the ministry find him, or the Headmaster?"
Perseus was too tired to even muster the incredulity her questions called for. How she could think even for a moment that he would do any of those things was beyond him.
"Well?"
"Do you know what a Dementor's Kiss is?"
"The Dementor's Kiss is the guards' of Azkaban's ability to consume the soul of a prisoner."
If he had more energy he might've chuckled. Her answer was straight out of a textbook. He was beginning to think the girl had a photographic memory, for written text at the very least.
"Then you know exactly why."
She put her hands on her hips. "So that's it? You would put Harry, and who knows how many other people at risk just to save your father?"
He glared at her now. What did she expect him to say? That he would save Potter over his own father? That he cared about the people his father had killed? He didn't. He likely never would. His father betraying his best friend was what bothered him most, but even that was not enough to make him tell all about his father. His father was the only other Black alive; it would not be Perseus that got his soul taken from him. No one deserved such a fate — no matter how heinous the crime — let alone his own father.
He looked her in the eyes and shrugged. What was there to say?
She recoiled as if she'd been physically struck, and the look she gave him bordered on disgust, and it made his stomach lurch. "So you don't care that he would hurt Harry, and probably even me if I was in his way?"
Her last comment felt like a blow to the stomach. It had never occurred to him that Hermione was at any risk from his father, even knowing she was a Muggleborn and his father was supposedly a Death Eater. It just didn't make sense. The whole story just didn't make any sense to him. Everything said his father hated Blood Purists; he'd even dueled and beat his own younger brother for associating with them. There was simply no way it had been a long con from the age of 11 — Perseus just couldn't quite understand how any person of even modest intelligence could see all these things and make that assumption. There was something more at play here. There had to be. If his father wasn't a Death Eater, he'd have no reason to harm Hermione.
Perhaps it was the Slytherin in him, constantly looking for schemes and ulterior motives; he didn't know, he just knew something wasn't right.
"It doesn't make sense," Perseus said to Hermione. She was as intelligent as him, if anyone would be able to look at the situation and see the same thing he did, it would be her. "My father hates blood purists — it's a well documented fact. He even left our family when he was 16 because he hated it so much." She frowned, but Perseus could see in her eyes she wasn't convinced. "My mother is Marlene McKinnon, of the now extinct Ancient and Most Noble House of McKinnon. Lord McKinnon was head of the light faction during the war." The more he talked, the more things became clearer to him. "Clearly, having conceived me, it's not unreasonable to believe that my mother and father have seen each other naked at least once, right?."
Hermione blushed, but nodded, and he could see in her eyes that she was following him.
"Death Eaters all share one single physical feature," he said, rolling up his left sleeve. "The Dark Mark is tattooed into their skin right here." He tapped a finger there. "It cannot be concealed by magic known to the Unspeakables — they were allowed to do experiments on it a few times and learned very little from it."
Hermione had a look of dawning understanding. "And if your father was a Death Eater, your mother surely would've seen the Dark Mark on him!"
Perseus nodded, relieved that had managed to connect the puzzle on her own. "But — someone must've known him well enough to know these things, right?"
"Of course," Perseus said. "Professor Lupin is one of them." He had to stop himself from hacking, and settled for swallowing thickly. He could feel his throat growing tighter and tighter; soon, he wouldn't be able to talk at all, and he'd very much like to be back in his dorm before that happened. While he had grown more proficient at silent casting, he hadn't mastered it. He could cast a stunner and a cutter curse with reliability; that would have to be enough.
"Professor Lupin was friends with Sirius Black?"
Hermione looked affronted at the very idea that a Professor she held in such esteem was friends with his father, but Perseus thought the only reason the man was even teaching at Hogwarts was the very fact that his father was on the loose. For what other reason would Dumbledore hire a Werewolf?
He nodded to Hermione's question. He stood from his seat, but had to grab Hermione to keep his balance; blood had rushed to his head as soon as he stood, and the room swirled around him.
"Perseus? That's it, I'm getting Madame Pom-" He grabbed hold of her arm a bit tighter and looked her in the eyes.
"Must you always tell, Hermione?"
He immediately wished he hadn't said it; Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she pulled away from him roughly.
He reached for her. "Hermione—"
"Fine!" She snapped. "Kill yourself, for all I care! You, Harry, Ron! You don't have to listen to me, but don't come crying when you get hurt!"
She turned on her heel and stormed to the entrance, her heavy bag causing half her body to sag.
Perseus opened his mouth to speak, to say something, to apologize, but it was no use. He could utter nothing more than guttural grunts and growls; his throat had finally had enough. He watched her go, his stomach doing flips. He tried to think of what he could do, anything that would let her know that he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, to make her cry.
Pulling out his wand once more, he focused on her bag as hard as he could, focused his intent so much that his fading headache made a swift and vengeful resurgence, and on his first attempt, cast the feather light charm on her bag — silently.
As the spell left his wand, so did the rest of his energy, and he collapsed backwards into the chair, his wand rolling from his limp fingers, hitting the stone floor with a clatter.
Hermione paused, hefting her bag, staring at it. She looked over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes sweeping his figure before settling on his fallen wand; he swore for just a second, she was going to turn around and force him to see Poppy; he wanted it even, welcomed it, hoped for it — but she didn't. With a final glance, she secured her bag more firmly on her shoulder and stepped into the wall, her body sliding through like a waterfall.
Perseus dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling, feeling more miserable than he had since learning McLaggen had hurt Daphne. Another one of his friends had been hurt, but this time, he was at fault. What was he to do? He couldn't very well curse himself.
He sat in silence, staring listlessly at the ceiling. For what seemed like hours his eyes tracked the marks and cracks in the stone, as what happened with Hermione played over and over in his head. He had completely forgotten about her fight with Potter and Weasley over the broom; he should've known the comment would've cut much deeper than he intended it to. The map must've taken more out of him than he thought, he'd have never been so tactless otherwise. Eventually, not even his inner-turmoil could keep his overwhelming exhaustion at bay, and he fell into a restless sleep.
Hermione was in the library, studying for her exams which were approaching rapidly, but her mind was frustratingly elsewhere. She had been in a rapid descent since her fight with Perseus; she snapped more frequently at Harry and Ron; had walked out of Divination in the middle of class after insulting a Professor, and, worst of all, she had slapped Draco Malfoy.
At first, she had been worried about him telling Professor Snape. It had become clear after the day passed that he wasn't going to do that, but that hadn't alienated her fear — if anything, it multiplied it exponentially. Malfoy always found a way to get back at Harry, she was sure she was no different. Telling Snape was the obvious option, one she had dreaded, but was beginning to hope for. If not Snape, then what?
She had been sticking closer to Harry and Ron when she could, afraid that he might attack her in the halls. Hermione knew a lot of spells, but she didn't know how to fight, and she knew Draco was never alone. But she couldn't be with them all the time, she had things she needed to do — she had to carefully plan the uses of her TimeTurner, making sure she never met herself by accident, she had to study for all her classes. The entire year was swamped in work — she was doubly so.
She was up most nights well past midnight, reading and studying, finishing work, or just thinking about Perseus. Even with her Time Turner, there wasn't enough time in a day to do it all. She was beginning to look like Professor Lupin, with big dark circles around her eyes. Her hair was bushier than ever, and she seemed to have a perpetual frown on her face, but she didn't care. She wanted this — needed this. She was better than Perseus this year. This was her chance, she could finally beat him for the number one spot in their year. She had already accepted that he would beat her in Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, Herbology and History of Magic; but she would beat him in Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy — and those were just the classes they both took. With her additional classes of Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, she was sure to secure the spot. She just had to ace her exams.
Which was why she needed to focus right now and study — but she couldn't. She hadn't seen Perseus in two weeks. Hadn't spoken to him, hadn't even shared their secret glances in the hallways. And it was weighing heavily on her. She missed their Tuesdays together, she missed learning from him; she missed hearing his raspy chuckle and seeing his purple eyes shine when she successfully cast a spell; she missed the smile she only ever saw when they were together; she missed his witty remarks.
She didn't know what to do. She knew he would never apologize. He'd probably sooner never speak to her again than offer her an apology. Some weird Pureblood code, that apologies signified some sort of debt between people. She didn't understand it, and she supposed it really wasn't for her to understand. She just wanted her best friend back. Perhaps she had overreacted. After all, she had said much worse to Harry and Ron over the last two weeks due to stress than Perseus had said to her, and he had looked like he would pass out at any given moment. Her hypocrisy was eating away at her, and the only way to solve it was to see Perseus, to settle it.
Her anger had faded as soon as she'd left the room, and if she could have, she would've turned around and went right back inside. Making up her mind, she decided this wouldn't be like her fight with Harry and Ron. She would have to seek him out to make things right, and she would. His friendship was worth much more to her than a silly fight.
The decision took some weight off her shoulders. Not a lot, but enough that she could concentrate on her work. She'd come up with a plan to reconcile with Perseus later; right now, she needed to study.
It was the day of their final exams when Hermione managed to catch Perseus, and he wasn't alone.
He was flanked on his left by a tall, pretty blonde haired witch with startling ice blue eyes and on the right by a very tan wizard with slicked back dark hair and even darker eyes. Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.
"Perseus!" she called. He froze, before his body relaxed and he looked over his shoulder almost casually. Greengrass and Zabini turned around completely, looks of surprise on their faces.
"Yes, Granger?" His speech was equal parts posh and lazy — the way he spoke to her when they were in classes together, as if she were a stranger. It practically dripped with arrogance. He turned to face her now.
"I —" she paused, looking from Greengrass to Zabini. Both stared at her with curious gazes, Zabini's eyes glittering as he looked back and forth between her and Perseus. She needed to get him alone, away from his friends. "I need to speak with you about our summer Arithmancy project." There was no project, but from the look in his eyes she could tell he had caught on.
"What summer project?" Greengrass said, raising a brow. Hermione cut her eyes to the girl. She had completely forgotten the girl shared the class with them, and would know of any such project. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to lie as best she could, but there was no need. Greengrass ignored her completely, going as far as to completely turn her body away from her, staring up at Perseus. Perseus did not return her look, his eyes instead boring into Hermione's own.
"Professor Vector believes Granger and I are too advanced for her class, and has given us a project to complete over the summer — which was supposed to be a secret." The glare he gave her was far too convincing, and it didn't take much acting on her part to return it.
Zabini snorted. "And how does she suppose you'll do that? Meeting in Diagon Alley?"
"Something like that," Perseus said, waving his hand through the air. "Go on to the common room, I'll be there shortly."
Blaise shrugged, and started off down the hallway. Daphne's eyes moved back and forth between them, before she said to Perseus, "Don't be long, you have to help me study," and followed after him.
Once they were completely out of sight, he moved closer to her, and she couldn't help but smile at him. "Not a bad lie," he said with a smirk.
She shook her head. Only a Slytherin would take the time to compliment her on a lie. Perseus' had been much better, anyway. It was so plausible even she would've believed it without a second thought.
"Come on, then," he said, and took off down the hallway at a pace she could just barely keep up with.
He appeared to be leading them to the room, as she'd taken to calling it in her head. "Perseus," she said, touching his arm and bringing him to a stop. "It really won't be long, I have to get to my exam."
He didn't respond, merely raising a brow. She swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry mouth. "I — I just wanted to say —"
"I know."
"You know?" she furrowed her brow at him.
He shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't stay angry forever."
She was used to his nonchalance, but she wasn't expecting this. It almost seemed too easy. "So…we're okay? We're still friends?"
He smiled now, and it warmed her inside; it was that smile she'd been missing. "Was there ever any doubt?"
She kept to herself that yes, she had been filled with an enormous amount of doubt.
His smile slipped off his lips, and his eyes swept over her form. "You can't do this again, Hermione."
What was he talking about? Was he talking about speaking to him in public, or being cross with him for a little while?
Her confusion must've been visible, because he continued. "You can't take all of these classes, it's unsustainable. I don't know why Professor McGonangall allowed it in the first place."
She frowned. She couldn't be concerned for him, but he could worry about her? "I'm doing just fine," she said, crossing her arms.
He shook his head. "The constant use of the Time Turner —" she looked around frantically, afraid that someone might've overhead him. "— is catching up to you. Even when you sleep your body isn't resting properly."
"Perseus!" she hissed, stepping closer to him. "You can't just go saying things like that out loud!"
He made a point of looking around. "Do you see something I don't?"
She turned away from him, shaking her head. God, she had missed him. "Just — I'll talk to you on the Express, okay?"
"You and your parents can visit me this summer, if you'd like."
She turned back around. "What? But what about your Au—"
"She's dead."
"Oh, Perseus, that's—"
He waved her concern away. "Don't act as though you think it's some great tragedy."
He was right, she didn't think the witch's death was anything to be sorry about at all; but she could see that it bothered Perseus; his voice was a bit hoarser than usual, his eyes a bit darker. With his aunt dead, it meant the only remaining members of his once illustrious family were himself, and his maybe-Death Eater father.
Taking a step forward, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. Even if he didn't love his aunt, she knew her loss would weigh on him. She was his family. "I'm sorry, Perseus," she muttered into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tighter.
She let go, taking a step back. She would love to stay and talk with him, but her exam would start soon, and she couldn't be late. "I'll talk to you on the express — don't be late for your exam!"
Perseus was standing on the fourth floor, gazing out of a large window that overlooked the grounds. He had just seen Minister Fudge enter the wooden hut, and Hermione and her two idiots exited through the back. He watched with curiosity as they disappeared under a silvery cloak. Hermione didn't tell me about that.
He tried to track them across the grounds, looking at the prints they left in the grass, but it was hard from so far away. Closing his eyes, he did a partial transformation. Ignoring the burning itch, he opened his eyes and looked out the window.
His eyes widened as the three emerged from the cloak, chasing after Weasley's pet rat as Crookshanks attempted to grab him. He looked up at the sky, watching the stars and full moon emerge from the clouds.
He watched in shock as a massive black dog — his father — bowled over Potter. Everything happened in a flurry of movement; Weasley was dragged down into hole beneath the whomping willow, Potter and Hermione were struck harshly by the tree, before Hermione's cat ran forward and pressed a paw into the tree, and it stopped thrashing. He watched Potter and Hermione draw their wands, and make for the hole.
He was running down the stairs before he even knew what he planned on doing.
