Hermione ignored Snape so much since their meeting late Thursday night. It wasn't hard to do. She went about her days like usual, however, she stopped giving him her copies of the Daily Prophet at breakfast and he never asked for them. He would sit in his usual chair, hunched over a book with his nose nearly pressed into it, scribbling away upon its pages. He still drank his usual too-many-mugs of black coffee. He still neglected the toast on his plate.
Hermione had been waiting on Sirius's response to the note that she sent him on Thursday, which already seemed like ages ago. It finally came on Sunday morning. Snape did not look towards her end of the staff table when she received an owl.
Hermione,
Be at the Apparation point in Hogsmeade, just beyond the Hog's Head at half-six tonight. One of ours will meet you there and accompany you to the meeting.
Looking forward to seeing you,
- S.O.B
Hermione stuffed the note into her bag, as well as the book on Defense Against the Dark Arts that she checked out from the library, and left the Great Hall. She went to her office and graded papers a little before fit was time to leave.
She wasn't sure what to wear to the meeting. She remembered seeing Order members around Grimmauld Place and the Burrow and they mostly were as casual as could be, unless they were coming from work and were still slightly put together. She decided comfortable Muggle clothes would be fine and opted for a navy button-down shirt with a cream pullover and snug-fit khaki corduroy trousers. She finished showering and was fully dressed promptly at six and made her way to the entrance hall.
Supper at the dining hall was going on and she craned her neck to see if any of the professors were missing from the table, wondering if they were in the Order for this war. She didn't quite take the entire table into view, but she did notice that Snape was missing.
She decided to leave the castle, noticing him coming out of the dungeons as she was going to push the front doors open. He stared her down from a distance, unmoving. She walked through the doors and hiked across the grounds and to the small village.
She waited at the designated point for the Order member assigned to escort her, assuming it would be James or even another Hogwarts professor that she possibly missed on her way out. She checked her watch more often than she liked, trying to beat down flames of impatience licking at her insides. It was already past the time Sirius told her to be down there. She would not allow a surge of fear to strike her nerves; nothing deadly has happened to the contact, they were probably just lost or lost track of time. Her watch could be several minutes slow. Any number of things could be going on.
She paced around in a small circle for a minute and then decided to stare into the nearest shops' front windows. She lost herself while counting the items on display at Scrivenshaft's when a timid and slightly strained voiced spoke from behind.
"I quite like the eagle feather quill."
She jumped and spun around. Had she been holding something, she would have dropped it or crushed it in her hand with how intensely she reacted.
The man jumped slightly, spilling his hot drink out of his Styrofoam cup and onto his wrist. It turned his battered, light brown leather watchband into a darker shade of brown. He wiped the watch's face onto the side of his shabby trousers, grimacing slightly. He sat his cup down upon a nearby bench, took off his watch, and continued to dry it, this time on his quite worn button-down shirt.
"I know a spell," Hermione offered.
"No, I don't need any help, thanks." He said this not unkindly, but was clipped. He put the watch back on his right wrist. "I am to escort Hermione?" He held out his hand, "Remus."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It was indeed her old professor. His sandy colored hair had less grey in it than she had ever seen. It was slightly shaggier than she remembered, but it suited him all too well. He looked so tired around the eyes. There was a wan smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes, but she was sure that it would have he not been so tired.
"That's me," she said, taking his hand, shaking it in greeting.
"I apologize, but I must ask so I know you are truly yourself. How did the author of the letter you received this morning sign it?" He sounded so very much like the professor she remembered, particularly with the way he asked questions with such openness, kindly wanting her to do well.
"Sirius signed it with his initials: S.O.B."
"Correct!" This time, his smile did reach his eyes and she knew in that moment that she would never see him or remember him to look so young ever again. "Thank you. I am to take you via side-along Apparation to our Headquarters."
Hermione literally had to bite her tongue. For if she had not, she would have asked whether or not it was 'still at Grimmauld Place'.
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. A light brown and reddish dusting of hair was sprinkled at his jaws. There were fresh cuts on his left cheek, but they were healing. He squinted his eyes at the setting sun before checking his watch in a weary sort of way that reminded Hermione of the love interests from old Gothic or Romantic novels.
"Right." He offered her his arm and she looped hers through it.
They disappeared with a discreet pop and she took in their new surroundings. It was not Grimmauld place. It was a small flat and its entirety was probably the size of Grimmauld Place's kitchen and drawing room.
"This is Sirius and James's place," Remus explained. "And mine, too, for a minute until I can get one of my own."
Hermione thought of all the times that Remus had been weary or leery of receiving help from the people who cared about him. She could not imagine Sirius or James wanting to get rid of him and she even had difficulty believing that he would not want to live with his best friends. He'd already lived with them at school for seven years.
He looked down at her, as though waiting to be judged. She didn't. However, she did take into account just how much of a bachelor's pad the place was: empty Firewhiskey bottles littered bookshelves and tables. Some of the bottles had dead flowers in them, as though the bottles had been the most appropriate vases at some point. Posters of different Quidditch teams and Muggle and Wizarding bands papered the walls more so than the actual wallpaper. There were also pictures of Wanted Dark witches and wizards—not unlike the ones she was used to seeing in the paper and on flyers in front of shops in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley both in her time and this one.
Hermione found rows of photos upon the fireplace mantle of the sitting room. From the content of the photos, it could never be wondered whether or not Sirius Black had four very close friends: photos from school days (when they were tiny and eleven to their graduation day), photos from pub nights and parties, and photos from the Potter-Evans wedding were crammed onto the small space. The familiar photo of James and Lily standing with best man Sirius, handsome as ever, smiled down at her and a wave of melancholy pitted itself into her chest.
"Well," Remus said softly from behind her right shoulder, taking the photos into consideration as though he was seeing them for the first time, as well. "Sirius's place. James and Lily moved into their house not too long ago. I daresay, though, that James still comes by almost everyday as though it were old times. But now that Lily," he pointed at Lily in the photo, as though Hermione couldn't figure out who he was talking about, "is pregnant, James's visits have lessened."
"I'm sure his best friend doesn't mind. And in any case, Sirius still has you."
Remus nodded and a sound of something like 'yes, quite' caught in his throat before he walked away and into the small kitchenette. "Would you like anything? Tea, perhaps? There's coffee, as well. Sirius has taken up a fascination with Muggle appliances lately and brought a French press home recently. It would be no trouble to make you something."
His kindness was like a dagger sheathed in her lungs. It really did make it that much worse to know how often and how much he would put himself out for someone just to being them a second of comfort. She couldn't understand why he found himself so alienated from Wizarding society just because of his lycanthropy. There were so many better things.
"That would be lovely, thank you."
He smiled in his tired way and rolled his sleeves up. There were ropes of old and new scars, trailing all the way down to his wrists and disappearing beneath his watchband. "The others are running a bit late. That is expected." He opened a bag of whole coffee beans and dumped them into the coffee grinder sitting on the counter next to the French press. He pressed the button to start the scathing sound of grinding beans. "Most work for the Ministry and it has been absolute hell over there." He was not quite shouting, but speaking louder than she was used to hearing. It did not suit him. He was like a different person, all from the change of tone in voice.
She watched him pour the now smoothly grinded coffee beans into the beaker-like part of the contraption.
"I hope you're making enough for me," Sirius said. He was at Hermione's elbow, digging in his ear with a q-tip and clutching a towel wrapped around his waist. He was dripping shower water all over the hardwood floor. He was grinning wickedly.
Remus rolled his eyes as he added the boiling water to the beaker, stirring, and then putting the lid on, setting a timer for a few minutes. "Sirius, you're getting the place all damp for everyone. We have a guest right now and there will be more. Please go get yourself proper and behave." Remus wagged his index finger at his friend.
Sirius, very much like wet a dog, shook his head back and forth, sending water all over them before disappearing once more.
"I didn't think he was already home," Remus muttered, exasperated. He forgot the coffee and went to casting drying and warming charms on their clothes and the walls and floor. "Git." He smiled beside himself.
When the timer went off, Hermione asked, "Can I do that?" She pointed at the press.
He pulled a very amused face, but obliged her whim.
"I used to have one of these when I lived with my parents," she explained, as though it were a perfectly desirable thing to do, plunging the press.
"Oh! Yes, I forgot that you are Muggleborn!" Remus slapped a hand on the back of his neck, a blush creeping up and to his cheeks, embarrassed at his outburst. "Forgive me, I don't mean to act like you're something exotic meant to be stared at." He paused for a moment and she wondered if perhaps he was thinking of himself or thinking of times in his life where that was exactly the case. "I just remembered that we don't really have any Muggleborns in our group yet. Perhaps it will be easy to recruit more people like you."
Hermione knew that she shouldn't be annoyed with the way that Remus worded his statements; she was glad that he and some of the Order were accepting of her blood status. There definitely was more prejudice about it in 1980 than in her time. And she knew that his intent was nothing but benevolent—he himself was anything but pureblood, anyway.
She asked him where the mugs were and served both their coffees. They retired to the sitting room where there weren't many places to sit. There was an armchair or two and three couches, two quite small and one a bit longer. A large, low oak table was in the middle of the lumpy circle of furniture.
"We're trying to find a better place for Headquarters. Right now, we switch from place to place so that we're discreet. Dumbledore's been trying to convince Sirius to use his parents' old place. Sirius and his younger brother are the only ones left. Well, besides the Death Eater cousins. Too much bad blood. But Sirius is the rightful heir." Remus sighed. "You probably don't care to hear about any of this."
"Why don't you all meet at Hogwarts?" Hermione was thinking about the Room of Requirement and all of their secret D.A. meetings there.
Remus's face was impassible. She couldn't tell if he thought that was a silly idea or not. Before he could answer her, more people were Apparating into the sitting room or coming in through the fireplace.
Two tall and very strapping red headed men brushed themselves free of the soot, wearing identical lopsided and mischievous grins. They were reminiscing loudly about a prank they just pulled on someone called Mulciber at the Ministry.
"Fabian! Gideon!" Sirius, now fully dressed in an outfit similar to what she saw him in the other night, hurried into the sitting room and pulled the two men into a bear hug. "How did it go?"
"Excellently," Fabian said briskly, puffing out his chest. "He won't be able to get the smell out for weeks."
"Non-vanishing Dungbombs," Gideon added, just as proud as his brother. "Even if he is able to get rid of them, the smell lasts up to a month, at least."
Sirius threw his head back and barked out his gleeful laughter. His hair reached to his shoulder blades in the motion. He wiped a tear from his eyes. "National treasure, the both of you."
Gideon and Fabian grinned at each other sheepishly before sitting down on a loveseat in perfect synchrony. Sirius went over to them, sitting halfway on one of the couch's armrests.
"The Prewett twins," Remus explained to Hermione. "Troublemakers extraordinaire. Sirius absolutely adores them."
Hermione's stomach fell. It took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian. They fought like heroes. She stole a glance in their direction. It was just like watching Fred and George Weasley entertain onlookers. Though they were not identical to Fred and George. Hermione was sure Fabian and Gideon favored their father's features, but they still looked so much like Molly Weasley.
The majority of the room's new additions were sitting down, chatting animatedly with their old friends. She recognized most of them as younger versions of the people she already knew.
"They all have their own little groups," Remus offered a small smile. "Sometimes, its hard to become engaged. Particularly if you're prone to shyness." Remus straightened up and started to point out the people chattering away. "That's James, of course. You've met him."
James Potter was sitting with half his bum on the other armrest at the Prewett twins' couch, laughing easily at something Sirius said.
"Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones," he pointed at the dark haired, severe looking witches who were in rapt conversation and sitting in front of the couch, leaning against the twin's shins. They smiled at each other every now and again, showing a kindness and softness and humor that their cool exteriors did not portray.
Remus told Hermione that it was Alastor Moody (still as scarred up and haggard looking as ever) who sat on the edge of the coffee table, talking raptly with Dumbledore, staring up at the older wizard, his legs spread apart, and a hand planted firmly into his thigh.
"That's Marlene McKinnon and James's wife Lily over there," Remus pointed at the two who were sharing an armchair, Marlene with her arm around her friend so as to sit comfortably. Marlene was nodding at everything Lily was telling her. Lily had her hand pressed protectively against her belly. Marlene giggled madly at what Lily said, then cooed at her tummy, pressing her own hand against it. Lily took a strand of Marlene's long, beautiful blonde hair and began braiding it.
"The guys. Sturgis Podmore, Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick, and Edgar Bones," Remus pointed them out in order from left to right. They were crammed into the long couch, roaring about Quidditch match scores and lost bets. Galleons exchanged hands with groans of loss or yips of glee. Sturgis set his jaw and muttered something about damn Hufflepuffs as Benjy and Edgar stuffed their ill-gotten gains into their denim jacket pockets.
A dark haired man with several day-old stubble crammed himself next to Remus, forcing the latter to edge closer to Hermione. He gave her an apologetic smile before greeting the newcomer.
"All right, Frank?" Remus asked.
"Aye, thanks Remus. Yourself?" Frank Longbottom grinned, slapping Remus on the back.
Neville's dad. But before Hermione could say anything, Dumbledore had taken center stage of the sitting room, raising one of his hands, palm to them all. His other hand raised his index finger to his closed lips.
Much like Hogwarts feasts and assemblies, everyone stilled and silenced themselves once Dumbledore stood to talk. His electric blue gaze swept over the crammed room.
"Another night. Another meeting. Here were are, together again." He smiled at everyone. Everyone looked around at each other, as though taking account of bodies and smiling at who was around. "Those not with us are safe and sound, I assure you. They have other duties and engagements to attend to…Let's begin."
Snape was leaving the Great Hall after supper that Sunday night and was en route to the dungeons once more to find something to occupy his time. He had no work to grade, no potions to brew, and no detentions to run.
"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said with far too much jocularity. He had been bent over the House hourglasses, examining at the jewels and points each of them held, tutting over the fact that Hufflepuff was ahead of Slytherin. "Perhaps you can rectify this." He smiled. "Can't have the bland dunderheads ahead of the purest blood in the school."
Snape stilled and turned around to see his old school mate clad in nothing but the finest robes, his white-blonde hair longer than before and impeccable. His gloved hands were resting over the skull head on a walking stick.
"Lucius," Snape said, bowing his head slightly. "I'll see what I can do for the House."
"Have you time for a chat, my dear old friend?" Lucius ignored Snape's reply and cut right to it. "I'm sure you've no rugrats running around or needing attending to?" Lucius's voice was low, like always, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Of course, my friend," Snape had to choke the last word out and allowed a smirk to curl at the corner of his mouth.
He led Lucius into the dungeons and offered him the best seat into his office when they arrived.
Lucius sniffed at the room, glaring at a jar on the edge of Snape's desk that held an engorged centipede floating in green liquid.
Lucius Malfoy sat with a slight sneer, crossing one long elegant leg over the other. He flipped his hair over his shoulder with the back of his hand. "I've heard whispers of our slipperiest and youngest brother being sighted in London."
Snape felt his pulse quicken as he cleared his mind. Lucius always was the most dreadful at Legilimency, but Snape wanted to take as many precautions as possible. "Indeed?"
"Quite," Lucius sneered grotesquely at Snape. "The Dark Lord is now aware. He has sent me as messenger to you?"
"For what reason if I am permitted to ask?" Snape wanted to know, his mouth going dry.
"The Dark Lord believes should dear, dear Regulus be out from hiding that he will seek out a confidant in order to escape the wrath of his brothers and sisters. The Dark Lord believes that you are Regulus's favorite and shall come to you first."
"It is true that Regulus and I had a very close relationship at Hogwarts, but come now Lucius, that was when we were in school."
Lucius bowed his head in a sardonic manner. "Indeed, Severus. As I stated, I am here as messenger only. The Dark Lord wishes me to relay a task to you about Regulus Black."
"Does he wish for me to alert him of Regulus's return?"
"Hardly. The Dark Lord wishes for you to, ah, kill the traitor. Neglecting service to the Dark Lord and abandoning any post and all responsibilities is most punishable. He may as well as made an attempt on the Dark Lords life with such betrayal and desertion."
Snape said nothing, but raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was waiting for Lucius to continue. When it was clear that Lucius was doing the same, Snape finally spoke, fighting the wavering nerves bundled in his throat. "It shall be an honor to serve our Dark Lord in this matter. You can tell him that yourself, Lucius."
