Chapter Six

Trust So Fragile

"She really has done an amazing job on this," Remus, seated in a pleasantly-restored arm chair, marveled in a whisper as he looked about the master bedroom of the Shrieking Shack once more. Hermione, uncertain just how long she'd require the Shack as accommodations, had charmed the upper level—no different than a tent, really, she'd said, after wondering aloud why none of them had ever thought to do so—and then, after performing every cleaning charm she could think of on the furniture, had curled up on the too-large canopy bed that dominated the room and fallen fast asleep, still a bit wrung out from her ordeal.

Sirius chuckled as he continued his aimless wandering across the floor. "There is a reason they call it a woman's touch, Moony."

"Fair point." The grin lighting Remus' features dimmed a bit, then. "Can I be honest about something?"

"I prefer it."

The werewolf cast his gaze toward the ceiling. For a few heartbeats he simply listened to the creaks and whines of the building, and then he nodded toward the sleeping witch. "She scares me a little."

His brows drawing upward, Sirius fixed his attention on her. Curled up in an almost kitten-like fashion in her slumber, she appeared the complete picture of peace. She was even making a little, half-whining, almost-snore sound. "Yes, she's terrifying."

Remus propped an elbow against his knee rested his chin in his palm. "No, you twit. I mean . . . she knows so much about us. We know barely a thing about her. I mean, yes, we know her name, we know her connection to us, we know how she got here, we know her circumstances. But we don't know her, not the way she knows us, apparently."

"You don't trust her?"

Wincing, Remus shook his head. "That's just it, though. I do. Already, and that's madness on the face of it. Makes me wonder if I shouldn't trust myself for trusting a stranger so easily."

"If you're really unsettled about it, there's a simple solution."

"There is?" Remus arched a brow. Other than trying to use legilimency to peek into her head—which he wouldn't, even were he skilled enough in the discipline—he wasn't sure how to get more out of her than she'd already willingly opened up to them about.

"Sure, her bag's right there. Women keep everything in those."

"Sirius! Are you honestly suggesting we—?"

"Oh, no, no. Not 'we', you, I'm fine with the woman. And I'm not saying you should do it. But this is clearly bothering you, and that's an option. It's a stupid option, but it is one. It's that or, I dunno, maybe wait 'til she wakes up and actually ask her anything more you want to know?"

Deadpan, Remus stared at Sirius. "Why that's positively revolutionary thinking there, Sirius. Of course I'm not planning on going through her things."

"Good. Because women don't like that shit."

"Is that why Lily gave you a smack at the Christmas party?"

"No, that's 'cause I let her surprise gift to James slip." His forehead smarted a bit just recalling the swat she'd given him. "And I'd really rather not reminisce about that particular incident, thanks very much."

Shaking his head, Remus chuckled.

Tipping his head to one side as he listened to his friend's laughter, Sirius' expression became uncharacteristically somber. "It's not just that, though, is it?"

Remus looked up to see the Animagus walking toward him. "What do you mean?"

Reaching him, Sirius cast a glance back over his shoulder at Hermione before lowering himself on his knees in front of Remus. He cupped the werewolf's jaw in his hands as he held those leaf-green eyes with his own. "It's because of what she wouldn't say earlier, isn't it? Because in her memories, we—"

"Don't say it, Pads, please," Remus said, his lids drifting downward.

"I think what scares me more is that I believe her." Sirius' pale gaze searched the other wizard's. "But, because I believe her, I also believe that now, due to what happened today, the fate she remembers for us is no longer our future."

"It's always so easy for you to have faith in things."

Snickering, Sirius shook his head. "Nah, I just make it sound easy. I's kind of wha' I do."

Remus sighed. "Well, one thing's for certain. Whatever happens next, this is going to be an adventure."

Sirius' features pinched in a thoughtful expression. "Hmm. An adventure with you? I think I could handle that."

Remus was aware of Sirius leaning closer to him. He could feel the other man's breath ghosting over his skin. Leaning into him, he caught Sirius' lower lip between his teeth, nipping gently at the plump skin.

Hermione blinked her eyes open, holding back a sleepy, rumbling sound as she looked about. Yes, yes, the canopy bed, she recalled that. Turning her head against the pillow, she felt her brows shoot up her forehead.

Sirius knelt in front of Remus and from the way he was titling his head—hell, from the way of everything, the hushed sounds coming from the pair, the way Remus' face was half-hidden by Sirus', the sight of Remus' long, graceful fingers curling into the long hair at the nape of Sirius' neck—she could tell they were snogging. Very passionately snogging at that.

Oh, well. That . . . that certainly answered a few questions she'd always had about their 'close' friendship.

Feeling like an intruder, suddenly, she moved as quietly as she could, putting her back to the scene. Leave them to this private moment. Even if it did raise an entirely new question about something in their behavior toward her—Remus getting himself lost in rubbing that salve into her skin, Sirius with his flirtatious behavior when they'd arrived here a few hours ago.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to will sleep to overtake her once more as she puzzled over it. Was it really okay for her to have feelings toward them? Even if not for the mess with her being stuck here. Was it really okay for her to feel her skin warm and her pulse race at the soft, murmured sounds drifting over from them?

Was it really okay for her to wonder if there could be room for her in either of their hearts as more than just a friend with some 'nifty' secrets about Voldemort?

Oh, dear, sweet Lord! She'd only tumbled into their lives—almost literally—a handful of hours ago. She barely knew them as they were now, why was she even worrying about any such thing? If she survived the war she'd found herself flung into long enough to use what she knew about Voldemort to help the Order kill him, then she could worry over letting her heart and her imagination run away with each other.

This was all just a result of trying to accept that she was stuck here. She had no way back. Her mind was grasping at anything for comfort. Anything that was a more pleasing notion than never seeing her best friend, her parents, her damn cat, ever again.

She forced back a sob. Eventually that would hurt less. It would always hurt, she knew. The edge would come off and she would get past it, but she'd never truly get over it. People didn't get over something like this, not really. And it was only the same day. She had plenty of time to let the sharp newness of this pain run its course. Well, yeah, if she survived.

For now, however, Hermione mushed her cheek tighter against her pillow, pretending she didn't know about the intimate moment going on at the other end of the room as she talked herself into letting sleep overtake her, once more.

Sirius broke the kiss, dropping his forehead down to rest lightly against Remus' scruffy chin as they caught their breath. "Well, that, um, that was actually rather rude of us," he murmured, laughing quietly.

"Rude of you, you mean. You started it."

Despite that there was a clear edge of humor to Remus' tone, Sirius lifted his head, feigning a scowl. "Oy! Was that a complaint just now?"

Remus held up his hands. "No, no, just pointing out the actual guilty party."

"I'm sorry, who was the one nibbling on my tongue, hmm?"

Letting out an airy snicker at that, Remus arched a brow. "Was that a complaint just now?" he echoed.

Sirius chuckled and it was a sound of pure, mirthful wickedness. "Not even remotely."

Ever the voice of reason, Remus sobered up. "I think it's time we get some sleep. The sooner we wake up, the sooner we get her to the robes shop, the sooner she'll blend in and we can breath a tiny bit easier."

"All right, then." Shooting to his feet, Sirius pivoted toward the bed and crossed the floor.

"Sirius, don't."

Sirius frowned at the other man as he sat gently on the edge of the bed. "Bloody hell, Moony, I'm just going to lay down. It's a big bed, I won't even touch her." Kicking off his boots, they hit the floor with a dull thunk.

Looking over at Hermione, he noted how much space there actually was between the two of them. He scooted toward the center and then waved Remus over. "C'mon, enough room for you, too."

Remus stood, strolling across the room at a lazy, ambling gait. "You just want to be in the middle."

Sirius laughed softly as Remus carefully removed his shoes and laid down beside him. "You just know me so well."

"I most certainly do."

Smiling, Sirius let his eyes drift closed. The sound of Hermione's quiet, shallow breaths—gone was that odd, too-cute snoring—on the other side of him had a lulling effect.

"What were you two talking about earlier, by the way?"

"Hmm?" Sirius could only half-focus on the question. It had been such a long day that he was already feeling sleepy just from his head hitting the pillow.

"When you were downstairs with her earlier." Remus frowned thoughtfully, his eyelids starting to droop. "I could hear you talking, but couldn't quite make out the words."

"Damn werewolf hearing," Sirius said, the words garbled by a yawn. "I'd asked her if there was any chance she had an infatuation with any inappropriately older men back in her proper time."

"I take it you had two specific 'inappropriately older men' in mind when you asked that."

"'Course I did!"

"And she knew who you meant?"

"She's sharper than you, of course she did."

Remus smirked, curious in spite of himself. "And what'd she say?"

"Yes."

Turning his head, the werewolf flicked his gaze over Sirius' calm profile for a few heartbeats before he prompted, "And?"

Both enjoying Remus' interest in the matter, and finding himself just a tad jealous and annoyed by it, Sirius uttered a little fib. "She wouldn't say who."

Remus awoke sometime in the wee hours, the bedroom quiet and still a bit dark with the faintest lightening of early morning sunlight around him. He glanced over at the other occupants of the bed. Sirius was still dozing peacefully, and Hermione had shifted onto her back at some point, her head tipped over, resting against Sirius' shoulder.

She had no one but them. That thought was a bit terrifying to him, just as she was sort of terrifying to him. Settling back down, he let his gaze roam about the shadowed walls. She had no choice but to depend on them, but that brought him right back to the conversation he'd had—well, that he'd started—with Sirius in the middle of the night.

They didn't really know this woman. Not the way she knew them. They knew facts about her—her name, her story, her suffering. But she had known them as people. That could not be considered the same thing.

And then, in the wake of Peter betraying them all so grievously . . . . Remus wanted to have faith in his own trust in her. He believed she wasn't lying to them about anything, anymore, even if she had blatantly omitted what became of them in her time. And he wanted to believe her without question, but still that left a hollow feeling in his gut. Because he didn't enjoy being suspicious, yet that was what this war had made of them. Paranoid, suspicious people who second-guessed everything and everyone.

At some point in the course of his rambling thoughts, his gaze fell upon the little beaded bag she'd carried with her. It was on the night table, she'd inadvertently rolled away from it when she'd moved across the bed in her sleep.

Sure, her bag's right there. Women keep everything in there.

Oh, he hated himself for what he was thinking, but after Peter, one of their best friends in the world . . . . He couldn't let himself be okay with trusting anyone so readily. Couldn't risk it.

Swallowing hard, he sat up, once more looking at the pair still asleep. His attention on her face, he reached backward. Grasping the lightly-worn velvet pouch in his fingers, he slipped off the bed and retreated out into the corridor.

Hermione stirred, aware of a warm body very close to her own. Muttering a sleepy noise, she shifted closer to that warmth.

When a pair of arms circled her, pulling her nearer, still, she opened her eyes.

Sirius' slumbering face was so close to hers in the early morning light of the room that she could only stare at him. He was so young like this. The light and mischief she saw in that blue-grey gaze of his when he was awake, how very animated and sheerly alive he was . . . .

She couldn't help once more thinking that he was beautiful.

Then again, so was Remus. Not as drained, not broken by the events she'd just circumvented entirely by accident. Not nearly destroyed by the mistaken belief that his best friend—now, she knew, possibly his lover—had betrayed him.

Lifting her head a bit, she looked past Sirius. The other wizard was nowhere to be found.

Settling back down, she returned her attention to Sirius. Her heart hurt for how perfect his features were. Unable to help herself, she lifted her hand, delicately tracing his lower lip with the tip of one finger.

Though it startled her to realize his eyes had opened, she didn't move.

"What are you doing?" he asked, that mirthful flirtation edging his whispered voice.

A small, bashful smile playing on her lips, she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just . . . ." She opted for honesty. "I just wanted to touch you."

"Mmm," he breathed the sound, nodding against the pillow. "I thought Remus was the one you fancied."

"Isn't he the one you fancy, too?"

Sirius let out a surprised snicker, his brows shooting upward. "You know about that?"

She watched the movement of her finger across his lip as she spoke. "I woke up and sort of . . . saw it a little . . . just for a moment, there."

"You watched us? Oh, you dirty woman, you!"

Hermione laughed in spite of herself at his feigned tone of scolding. "I opened my eyes, saw what was happening, and then turned over and went back to sleep to allow you two to have the moment to yourselves. For all I know, you two could've shagged in that chair after that."

Sirius' jaw fell at her candid statement.

She clamped her hand over her mouth, covering a giggle at her own words. "Oh, um, I didn't mean . . . . Um, I—I only meant . . . ." Oh, dear Lord. She could barely even think straight with his eyes so steady on hers as they were now.

He slid his hand around hers, pulling it gently from her face. Reaching out with the other, he mimicked her earlier action, tracing the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.

The witch had to remind herself to breathe as she watched his expression. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear for a moment they seemed fascinated with each other.

But they were not the only ones here, and the green eyes that flashed through her mind as she thought of the other man pulled at her heartstrings just as much as the gaze of the man before her.

"Maybe we should go see where Remus disappeared to."

Sirius' eyes narrowed and his expression grew stern so fast the change was comical. She knew he wasn't really angry with her, but this was the second time she'd interrupted his flirtations by talking about Remus. "Ooh! Ever the mood-killer, you are."

Hermione couldn't help herself, there was something new and intriguing about being around these two when they were so . . . tangible was the only way she could think of it. Touchable . . . close . . . In a way that had never been in the version of these men she'd known.

Flicking a brow upward for the briefest second, she said, "Is that why you think I brought up Remus at a time like this?"

With a sideways tip of his head, Sirius puzzled over her meaning. She stole the opportunity, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of his nose and then slipping from his arms. Watching her as she stood from the bed, giggling mischievously as she crossed the room to the door, Sirius' brows shot up.

"Noooo," he said in a whisper. There was no way she could mean—

"Oh my God!"

In a blink, he was up, wand in hand as he ran out into the corridor. He followed the sound of Remus apologizing frantically.

"What the bloody hell . . . ?" Sirius felt like he'd lost the ability to speak as he found her standing in a doorway of the smaller bedroom, Remus staring up at her as he held her bag in one hand and items he'd clearly found within it's magically extended recesses in the other.

"Hermione, please," Remus tried again, his eyes fastened on the fuming witch as she stormed across the floor and snatched her bag from him. "Let me explain—"

"Explain what? That you expect me to trust you—to put my life in your hands and let you protect me—but the moment I fall asleep you start rifling through my things?" She hurriedly stuffed the rest of her belonging into the bag.

"Fuckin' hell, Moony," Sirius said, wincing.

"Fucking hell Moony?" the werewolf echoed, wide-eyed. "It was your suggestion!"

"What?!" Hermione's voice was so shrill it actually cracked as she spun on her heel to face the other wizard.

Sirius' face fell as he held up a finger. "Whoa, that's not what I meant! I wasn't being—good goddammit, I hate this word—serious! You were so wound up about it that I just said that as a way to point out that you were starting to get a bit frantic about it, and there was a better way to—"

His words died on his lips as Hermione shot past him, hurrying through the house and down the stairs.

They both called after her, and she knew she couldn't just be on her own here in 1981 with no friends or family or place to go, but she couldn't really look at them right now, either. And none of them knew what Voldemort was up to—whether he was actively looking for her or dismissed her as some random witch in the wrong place at the wrong time, a person he'd kill if ever saw her again, but otherwise wasn't bothering with her. None of them had any idea if she was safe unless she came face-to-face with the Dark Lord, or if running across any of his minions might be the end of her.

Stopping on the first floor landing, she lifted her gaze. They were both peering down at her over the second floor banister.

Swallowing hard, she shook her head at them, feeling her eyes well up. She'd been so stupid. Of course they didn't feel they could trust her! They barely knew her and she'd already lied to them once. Even knowing she might've done the same in Remus' stead, she couldn't deal with these jumbled feelings so close to them both right now.

"I just . . . I need some air. I need to think. Please, please, don't follow me."

The wizards deflated as they watched her vanish out the front door.

After a few heartbeats, Remus became aware that Sirius was staring at him. Turning his head, he met Sirius' gaze. "Don't even say it."

Shrugging, Sirius held up his hands. They stood in silence for another couple of seconds before he asked, "We're going to follow her, aren't we?"

Remus' shoulders slumped as he started down the staircase. "Of course we're going to follow her." He paused, looking up at Sirius, gesturing for the other man to come along as he tacked on, "Just close enough to make sure trouble doesn't find her."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he plodded down the steps after Remus, muttering in a disgruntled tone, "Dear God, that woman's going to hex our bits off."