Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. All characters, places, descriptions, etc. (unless original and created by me) belong to her.
Summary: It was a small pack, of course, just the five of them, but together they were something wild. Hermione finds herself in the Marauder's Era with four new best friends.
Chapter 65: Hic Fui*
14 October 1978
The Shelter
"Alright, I'm off to Hogsmeade," Hermione stole a sip of Remus' tea as she headed out of the kitchen toward the door.
"Have fun with Ben," Remus called.
"Have fun at work," Hermione called back, wincing to herself as Remus just grunted in response. He'd recently started running deliveries for one of the shops in Diagon Alley, and he absolutely hated it. But for Remus, hating the job meant hating himself for not being thankful enough that someone took a chance on him. Job or no job, Remus was finding himself often in an inescapable grey mood.
Hermione caught Sirius' eye from the stairs as she opened the door. She looked pointedly to the kitchen and Sirius nodded, a silent conversation passing between them. Life at the Shelter had passed on from the honeymoon phase. Lately, the trio had been—well, not so much fighting as having passionate discussions. If it wasn't Remus complaining about work, it was Sirius leaving half-drunk cups of tea all over the place or Hermione burning food for the hundredth time, testing the limits of all of their sensitive noses. Living together truly on their own was an adjustment. And that's what they were doing. Adjusting.
As soon as Hermione left, apparating from the front gate of the Shelter, she breathed a sigh of relief. She loved those two boys with all her heart, but with everything that was happening—both in and out of the house—she was beyond thankful for the time she had alone.
She shuffled along the main street of Hogsmeade, ran her eyes across the line of shops, and walked inside the first that caught her eye.
Tomes and Scrolls
There were days when Hermione felt like a ghost. Those came most often. When she laughed and drank and dined and touched and held and lived alongside Harry's parents and the ones she now also considered her boys.
But there were times too when she felt like a thief, stealing moments from people, listening to their secrets, witnessing their memories. Tying herself, unbreakable, to pieces of their past.
In these moments, here in the bookstore with Ben, Hermione was a thief.
Ben, handing her his favorite book. She carried that with her now, the knowledge that it was no longer his. That he had shared that part of himself with her and she would be remembered each time he picked it up again.
Ben, making those little comments in the afternoons spent in the store. The little remarks about how she just fit, between the stacks and the dust that never quite went away. Hermione wanted to agree, to give into the feeling she was like a puzzle piece sliding into place every time she opened the door to Tomes and Scrolls, but she knew the truth for what it was. She wasn't a puzzle piece completing the picture. She was staining it.
Years down the road, when he picked up the book or walked past the store, perhaps with Anthony in tow, what would he think? Would he remember her? Would he want to?
"—and here I was boasting about how Newt Scamander married one of my distant relatives and she's just smiling and listening the whole time." Ben reached around Hermione to shelve a book. "And when I'm finally done sounding like the biggest ponce on the planet, she tells me she's been working directly with him to publish a new anthology for children. Directly with him, Hermione."
"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think," Hermione smiled as she followed Ben around the store.
"Merlin, I hope so." Ben flicked his wand and the sign by the door switched from "closed" to "open." "I mean, she did agree to dinner tonight, so—"
"Ben!" Hermione smacked his shoulder. "You should have led with that."
"It's called telling a story." Ben grinned widely at her before gesturing around the store. "It's kind of what we do here."
"You're incorrigible." Hermione rolled her eyes. Ben just laughed and moved behind the counter, fidgeting with his nametag.
"So, meeting Sirius' brother again?"
"Would you believe me if I said I just stopped by to see you?"
"Yes," Ben smirked. "But I am also extremely aware of the fact that this is the first Hogsmeade weekend for students."
"Nothing gets past you, does it."
"They don't let just anyone become acquirers. Or bookshop keepers, for that matter."
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I am in fact hoping to see Regulus today, but I was also looking forward to seeing you, too."
"You know you're welcome to use the shop to talk with him. There's the office in the back. No one will bother you there." Ben's eyes darted to the door as the bell chimed marking the first of the day's patrons. Hermione glanced over as well. Not Regulus.
"Ah no, er, thanks for the offer, but I think we may wander a bit."
"Offer still stands."
"Thanks, Ben." Hermione reached over to squeeze his hand. Ben nodded.
"Alright, alright, time for me to engage with today's youth and try to convert them to the cult of the written word." Ben moved from behind the counter and pulled Hermione into a quick hug.
"Please," she snorted. "You just want updates on the latest gossip."
Ben just winked as he started to move through the stacks. Hermione rolled her eyes and headed toward the door.
It might have be her heightened senses this close to the moon or maybe how much she'd missed him, but she spotted Regulus immediately, her heart swelling as she saw his own eyes darting around to find her. He was walking with a trio of Slytherins, and Hermione stepped into the shadows of the little alley beside Tomes & Scrolls to get her fill of surveying his friends.
Dolohov she recognized now, cursing herself for not seeing it earlier. Sure, he was younger and a bit more put together and his eyes weren't blazing with a wild fire, but there was still something unsettling about him. Something inherent and singular to the Russian wizard.
To Regulus' left, a young man Hermione wasn't sure she knew. Something about him suggested Death Eater in the back of Hermione's mind, but the feeling wasn't as persistent as the one she had when she looked at Dolohov. She wasn't surprised, though, that Regulus associated with Death Eaters. From what she knew of the makeup of the Slytherin House at this time, he'd have a hard time finding a friend who didn't in some way have a connection to the Dark Lord.
Hermione did, however, immediately recognize the young woman walking alongside the other three Slytherins. Tall, slim, pale. Piercing blue eyes and long blonde hair. Robes that looked like they were freshly tailored just this morning, and an air about her that suggested the kind of power and prestige that only comes from history. This was Narcissa Malfoy.
Though, Hermione thought, she must still be a Black now. It was strange to see this woman, Draco's mother, at this age. She was so caught up in watching the future matriarch of the House of Malfoy that she barely noticed when Narcissa and the rest were almost upon her. Hermione stepped deftly further into the shadows as they passed. She pulled out her wand, a spell on her lips to alert Regulus to her presence when another body stopped.
Antonin Dolohov froze in his tracks just steps from the alley entrance. Narcissa and the young man Hermione couldn't name walked on, a remark floating back that Hermione was too far to catch. Regulus however did stop.
"Toshka?" Regulus stepped closer to Dolohov. Hermione held her breath.
"Your little bird is here, Лев."
"My what?"
"She's being a little skittish so I don't think today's a day for company." Antonin patted Regulus' shoulder as he steered him toward the alley. "But I'd like to talk with her again, I think."
Regulus looked into the alley, seeing Hermione for the first time. She offered a little wave. He looked back at Antonin, who never once looked back at her.
"Доскорого, Птичка," Antonin called out before setting off after Narcissa and Corban.
Regulus and Hermione both watched and waited for Antonin to disappear from view before they turned to each other.
"Hi, Rabbit."
The Shrieking Shack
"So you're good? School's going well?" Hermione flicked her wand, creating her signature bluebell flames to warm up the Shack.
"I'm fine, Granger," Regulus smirked. "I've been keeping busy."
"And having some fun, too, I hope." Hermione looked pointedly at him. Regulus just blushed. She had spent enough time with Ron and Harry and the Marauders to know she did not want to know the details behind that.
"I'm back on the quidditch team," Regulus offered. Hermione whirled around to face him.
"What? That's amazing!" Her grin warmed what the blue flames couldn't reach. "You'll have to keep me posted on how you all do. I know I'm supposed to root for Gryffindor, but I think since I've graduated, I'm allowed to root for whoever I want."
Regulus smiled in return.
Hermione waved her wand a few more times, casting reparo on a pair of rickety chairs and a table that had been torn in half. She looked from Regulus to one of the chairs before sitting herself and pulling out a sheet of parchment.
"Salazar," Regulus laughed, but sat nonetheless. "I should have known you'd make an agenda."
Hermione rolled her eyes before pulling out a small bundle of parchment and an extra quill and passing it to Regulus. His eyebrows shot up.
"Please tell me I'm not expected to take notes." He pulled the offering toward himself.
"No, of course not," Hermione started. "I mean, unless you feel so inclined. But no, it's-it's in case you wanted to sketch. I've missed your drawings."
Regulus turned his head down, but Hermione caught the flicker of a smile. He spun the self-inking quill a few times in his hand before starting to scratch at the page before him. Hermione flittered her eyes from watching Regulus draw back to the list in front of her and back again. As she spoke, updating Regulus on her own life and dropping not-so-subtle mentions of Sirius, she watched him ink out snakes and skulls. As he updated her in turn, his hands wrung out heavy blots of darkness sitting over menacing forests. So Hermione kept talking, willing the weighty lines to lighten and lift Regulus' heart with them.
"Okay, right," she sighed, "on to the more serious matters." She paused, eyeing a particularly menacing pair of eyes on Regulus' parchment. "Er, you've mentioned before some rumors about spies? Do you know anything else?"
"Haven't heard anything new," Regulus looked up, his hands still moving. "Now that we're back in school, information is harder to come by. We're marked, sure, but beyond that and the occasional field trip, we're kept to the sidelines." He watched Hermione's shoulders deflate. "But if there was a spy set up, I think I'd know. These people, they're…prideful. If a win like that came through, someone would talk. It's definitely being considered, but the Dark Lord is smart. He's a Slytherin after all. He'll take his time to find the right spy, the right moment."
Hermione sighed, burying her head in her hands. "I know. That's what I'm afraid of."
The Shack was silent but for the scratch of Regulus' quill.
"In actual news," he started again after a moment. "I've heard from my uncle." Hermione immediately lifted her head, but Regulus put a hand up. "Don't get too excited. He was really vague, which is kind of on par for him, but he essentially said the only known mode of—" Here, Regulus made air quotes. "—travel via temporal displacement is Time Turners. He said he could give more if he had more information, but I didn't want to disclose anything else without talking to you first."
"So essentially what I expected." Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
"Are you trying to get back?" Regulus' voice was quiet.
"No." The answer came faster than they both expected. Hermione scrunched her eyes closed and wrapped her arms around her body. "I mean, yes, no, yes, of course I'm trying to get back. I don't actually belong here."
"But?"
"But," Hermione opened her eyes, a sliver of gold snaking around each iris. "I have things I want to do, need to do. Things I need to be here for. So I'm okay if I don't go back for a little while longer."
Again, Regulus was silent. The room seemed to feed on the subtle wisp of the flames and the sweep of Regulus' hand across parchment and the small, momentary catch of his quill.
"Are you trying to change something?" The question seemed heavy, like he was also asking himself if he really wanted to know.
Hermione hesitated. He had asked, pleaded, not to know. How could she answer without it being obvious that it was all for him?
"I—" She averted her eyes once more. "Yes. There are things that I think are possible, but it's complicated. It would—It will require planning. And I'm nervous. The, er, the last time things were altered with time travel, it was spur of the moment. Decisions were made based on heart, not head."
"Explain it again, how things can change." Regulus started to draw again.
"The past is solid in a way. Time passes and dries as it goes, but the future is more malleable. It's altered by perception and chances and the million little decisions people make every day. The future can always be changed. The past just limits those possibilities a bit, provides a boundary of sorts to make the choices easier."
Hermione opened her eyes to find Regulus watching her, his quill still moving. He'd pulled out a fresh piece of parchment when she'd been distracted, hiding away the monsters and villains. This page, now, was filled with flowers, a few animals Hermione couldn't discern from across the table, and a pair of eyes she knew to be her own. She looked back at Regulus.
"If I can help at all," he shrugged. "I think I'd like to do some good."
Hermione blinked and for a moment she was standing in Regulus' bedroom again, Sirius clutching his quidditch jersey on the ground. She swallowed, and it was all she could do to nod at Regulus. Drawings forgotten for now, Regulus rose to his feet and held out a hand for Hermione.
"Come on, Granger." The edges of his eyes crinkled. "Two days to the moon, right? Let's fight."
There were moments when Hermione felt like a ghost, and moments when she felt like a thief. The best moments, however, were when she felt like Pup, the moments where she felt anchored in her body and her bones, tethered to the present and the people around her. The moments she felt like herself.
A/N: *I Was Here