Review offering insight to the story:
"Well I did promise, so here is my review for your quite lovely story and plot you have going on, called Werewolf Tamer. Good strong beginning. I love how you picked up on Peter's "outside-looking-in" viewpoint. Although I dislike Peter in many ways, shapes and forms, I wonder if he had been like Sirius, (my God I can't imagine two of them!) and more vocal do you think he would have done the things he did? He seems to me a misguided, underrepresented, over-judged and all around bad guy character. Yes he made some horrible decisions. One's that left him in a life debt to his friend's son, Harry, but I wonder seriously if James and Sirius had included him more would James and Lily still be alive? What about Sirius? Of course, these aren't questions for anyone but J.K. to answer, and if she had made Peter more involved I believe she never would have wrote the series. And since I am in a rambling mood I shall switch to the topic of J.K. I have read some pretty amazing fiction in my life. Some medicore fan fiction, some absoultely "I want to shoot myself this is so bad" fan fiction and then comes the category where you, JK Rowling, Jane Austen, Stephenie Meyer and John Steinbeck all come in. (And yes I did just compare to two of the worlds greatest authors.) Without J.K. Rowling you wouldn't have written any of your current works, but I see something in your writing that is lacking in hers. I see patience in her writing and of course that makes sense since she spends years working on a book, maybe a month on a chapter or more. But it takes a true author to write with patience, write quickly and write well. I know you only by your writing Amanda or atruwriter, but I am inspired to be like you. Your writing is fresh and always full of perfect detail. While I can barely pull off a chapter a week with my "writing muse gone" times you pull off much more. Sometimes three, four, maybe even five chapters a week, plus an occasional one or two shot. It's amazing. If anyone could win a Nobel Prize in multi-tasking, writing well, and being an amazing person at the same time I would give it to you. And finally a person who realizes we can fight for a cause we are not involved in! When a normal human being goes out into the world and proudly proclaims, "I'm going to end illertarcy in the US!" one of the first questions out of people's mouths are "Why?" and "Could you not read as a child?" Do they not realize that there doesn't always need to be a why and a reason. You can fight for something with every fiber of your being without being affected by it. We, as people, need to learn that. ponders Hmm, maybe I should just get everyone to read your fan fictions. I love how this story is progressing. I can imagine the friendship between James and Hermione so clearly. It seems like nothing else and yet it seems so real. sighs Sometimes I wonder... Anyhoo..it was beautiful. I can't imagine how many times you watched the scene from the third movie and reread those books. That must have took an immense amount of time. Thanks for putting a smile on my face with your talent." - annieca of FanFiction net.
Thank you to the following reviewers: Samdoria, Dizi 85, Cameron MD, Jester08, N8mist, killing u with umbrellas, nelygirl, Celtic-Dragon-89, Remuz Rulz, Black-Rose23, Hotkat144, Wistful-Dreamer, bethygirl94, amrawo, Jjah-Jjah, DramaQueen4eva, Karoru-chan, quiet-mg, Lupin's Mistress, Li-chan, clare127 and especially Danielle, mskiti (Tabi), annieca, laugh.live.learn (Rachel) and galloping-goose(Zeus).
The Werewolf Tamer
Chapter Ten
Hermione stood in the middle of her classroom, a quill in her mouth as she contemplated her lesson plan for the next morning. She wasn't quite sure if she liked it just yet. Her right toes were scratching the back of her left calf through her pants, but the itch simply wasn't being sated. She sighed, grumbling under her breath and pressed her foot a little harder, exhaling lightly with a smile as the itch began to dissipate. It had been a couple weeks since the full moon and everything was feeling a little less heavy lately. Her training with Brighton and Remus had gone remarkably well, which she had been hopeful but worried about. She hadn't expected Remus' inner wolf to take such a liking to her right away, and had to admit it was mildly emotionally taxing. Each of her wolves eventually became quite affectionate, nuzzling her leg or nudging her hand to be pet, but that wasn't until they had made a canine and human connection with her. It took months to establish and oftentimes wasn't as familiar as how Remus acted.
She wanted to believe that it had something to do with how her and Remus had been simply perfect for each other, but had to remind herself that the Remus she knew now was just a seventeen year old boy. He didn't have the experience or wisdom of the Remus she had been married to. He didn't have the emotional connection that her Remus had, given that they had literally gone through war together. This Remus didn't know her best friends or lose people like she did. He was a sweet boy, one who meant a lot to her as a student, a friend, an inspiration, but she wasn't going to let it get past that. Despite the fact that he looked so much like her Remus, that he acted quite like him, that when he smiled, it was very obviously the same man, she would not allow herself to ruin his chances. He could have a real future, one free of everything her Remus had seen. She was adamant on keeping them as friends and professionally as student and teacher.
Hearing the door open, Hermione looked up from her notebook to see Brighton holding a stack of tomes in his arms. She smiled at him, motioning for him to bring them over to her desk. After a very persuasive conversation with Dumbledore, she had convinced him that Brighton would be her perfect teaching assistant. While he was still very quiet and didn't talk much with the students, he was a great help. He knew the Hogwarts library efficiently and Madam Pomfrey seemed to think him a 'darling'. Like the Brighton she knew in her time, he didn't speak much unless he had something insightful to say. On rare occasions, Sirius brought him out of that to horse around and generally be a regular eighteen year old boy. "Did you find the book on Giants I was looking for?" she queried.
He looked up, half-smiled, and gave a quick nod.
"That was the one I was sure wouldn't be here," she told him, grinning. "I thought I'd have to make a trip to Hogsmeade, or maybe even Diagon Alley." She shrugged, walking over to stand next to him so she could see the books. "How is Madam Pince?"
"Good," he told her. A simple, short answer, but it wasn't to be rude. Hermione found that if pressured to speak, Brighton closed up. When put in a place where he simply had to speak, if to keep himself safe or because he was curious, he'd question things. Generally, however, he was a soft spoken, nice boy. She found whenever he had some time to himself, he'd break out the book of quotes that she had given him. He seemed to have a collection of them, of which she had been perusing when she showed him his new quarters. He immediately emptied his small bag of what little he had, and the majority were books consisting of the insight of others. Every once in awhile, he'd quote something wise to bring insight to a situation in class or with the Marauders. Hermione found herself smiling lightly in reminiscence whenever she heard his soft but deep voice treat them to another quote.
"That's nice. I'm going to be putting around the classroom for awhile here, Brighton, so you can go ahead to dinner if you want, or whatever you'd like," she told him, smiling warmly. He was so much younger than she remembered, and yet he held that familiar spark of friendliness that she recognized in her old friend. There were a few wrinkles missing, a couple gray hairs no longer in view, but he was still Brighton at heart, and that was really quite comforting for her.
He nodded, lifting his side bag up off the chair he left it at and gave a small wave before leaving the room.
Hermione sighed, looking back at the stack of books, reading the spines and then setting them on the side. She was having a discussion with her seventh years tomorrow and she wanted to be ready for anything they might ask. Most people considered various creatures to be dark, even if they really weren't. Hermione wanted to set the record straight on the background of them and make sure there weren't going to be any testy students. She didn't want to be responsible for undereducated witches and wizards going out into the world thinking they were ridding it of dangerous creatures when they were really only destroying a harmless being. Gathering the books up into her arms, she decided to look them over a little more in her office. Using her wand, she closed the shutters on the windows and made her way up the stairs.
Her office was furnished like a mini-library. There were books lining every possible wall, along with a couple pictures she had of her and various magical creatures. One was of her when she visited a Giant colony with Hagrid. The half-Giant wasn't in the picture, otherwise she'd have a couple things to answer for. Instead, she was sitting on a man's shoulder, a good friend she'd made, by the name of Orlaph. He was huge, wide and tall, with burly big arms, a thick mop of brown hair on his head, and a toothy grin. His wife Gerdi stood beside them, twisting her very large apron in her hands, accidentally tearing it with her anxiety. She, like her husband, was very large at every angle, but she was really quite sweet and soft spoken. Sandy blonde hair hung down to her hips in plaits and a flowery dress hung to her knees. In the picture, Hermione was smiling out at the camera while her gaze kept falling back to Orlaph who was telling her an amusing story about his little boy who had gotten himself stuck in something after forgetting how large he was. His grasp of English was stilted, but she wouldn't ever consider him stupid. Various other photos of her, like those of the werewolf clans over the years, one of them even taken when they were all in full fledged wolf form, hung around the walls. That one tended to scare people though, and Hermione often found herself frowning at people for being so ignorant.
Hours later, Hermione found herself rubbing at her temples, halfway through one of the tomes Brighton brought her. A candle sat on the edge of her deep brown desk, flickering and surrounded by melted and gnarled wax. Her quill was writing out her notes for her, as her hand began to ache as she read and added things to her parchment. She was hungry, she noticed, and rose from her seat deciding that now was the time to steal down to the Kitchens and get something to munch on. She had missed dinner by an hour or so and it would be quite empty of both people and food. Her legs ached as she stretched them and she let out a happy sigh as her back stretched from its position. A knock on her door jarred her and she turned around, trying to figure out from which it might be coming from. Her office was connected to the hall, her classroom, and her quarters. The knock came again and she found it was coming from the hallway, so she walked over and slowly opened the door, momentarily surprised to see James standing before her, looking rather upset.
"Hi," he murmured, looking over his shoulder and then back at her. "I was just... I was going for a walk and I thought... Well, I was just..." He sighed, frowning. It was rare to see him so unsure of himself, and there was really only two subjects. One was Lily and his uncertainty of whether she liked him back or not, but she was almost certain that wasn't the cause of this anxiety. "Mum sent a letter and she's not doing so well lately. She's been thinkin' about my dad a lot lately, and I'm sort of worried that..." His eyes fell and his mouth shook for a moment.
Hermione nodded, knowing he was scared that he was going to lose his mother now too. His father had passed on that summer from natural causes, age finally catching up to the kindhearted man. Geoffrey Potter was a man who had been blessed with his only son at an old age and he had a strong relationship with James, from what Hermione had learned of him. Like Geoffrey, his wife Muriel was very affectionate to their son. They tended to lavish him with everything he could ever want, making him rather spoiled in some ways. They instilled a good sense of right and wrong in him though, and so he wasn't as snooty as Draco Malfoy, in Hermione's opinion. James had told her though, that Muriel and Geoffrey loved each other in a way that most would be quite jealous of. They had met young, married young, and loved still. James feared that his mother wouldn't make it long after his father's death and it was beginning to take its toll on him.
"I'm going down to the Kitchens, would you like to accompany me?" Hermione asked him, stepping out and pulling the door closed.
He smiled gratefully and then tried to act the gallant man and held his arm out for her to take. Chuckling, she wrapped her arm in his loosely and they began walking. She knew not to press, to simply wait for him to tell her. He was like that. He'd show up, talk about mundane things, and then he'd spill it all. This was like any other time. She nodded and smiled in all the right places as he talked about Quidditch and how the first match was coming up soon. He told her about his studies and how he had a little trouble in Charms the other day, but he figured out his problem promptly. And then he spoke about Lily, someone who always brought a soft smile to James' face, even in the middle of one of the hardest moments of his life.
"She didn't really smile, it was more of a smirk, I think. But that's better than nothing, right?" he asked her, looking over at her hopefully. "And she did laugh, but it was funny. I mean how often do I make such a fool out of myself that even Lily Evans, Headgirl, stickler for rules, laughs too?" he said, shaking his head and chuckling.
"I've seen you make a fool out of yourself a number of times," she informed him, half-smirking to herself.
He snickered, "Yeah, but did Lily laugh then?" he asked, lifting his brow to prove his point.
Hermione rolled her eyes. James was a real character. There were moments where he really did remind her of Harry, and others when he was quite simply all his own person. A sharp sense of loss shivered through her as she remembered her best friend. He had been having such a good time of life before the war. Sure there was planning and preparation, but he was... he was happy. For once in his life, he was truly happy. He had his wife, his future, his everything back then. All he had to do was look at Susan and love truly shone through Harry's eyes. It was the same with Ron when he was with Luna. Her best friends had been enjoying life and living it to the fullest. They experienced love and family, just like Harry had always wanted. They had their adventures, played Quidditch, and enjoyed the comfort of friends and being independent, like they had both been waiting for.
Their faces flashed in her mind and her stomach twisted tight. She usually avoided thinking of them. It was so hard. It hurt so much to think of them some days. Ron. His bright hair, his numerous freckles, his easy going attitude with most things. He could be sated with sweets and Quidditch at any time. Fierce, proud, courageous and loyal. Ronald Weasley, her best friend, her first crush, a man who stood beside her when it all seemed to be falling apart. As the Wizarding world began to fall to shambles, as Harry lay dead in a casket, six feet beneath them. As their friends were being picked off one by one. His own sister killed in the street like she wasn't worthy of a real fight, just an ambush and murder. She remembered his lazy grin, his strong hugs, his irrational mood swings. Oh, how she missed the big lug. His first words to her after getting married would forever stay engraved in her mind, "Did ya ever think I'd marry Looney Lovegood? Me either. Damn, I'm the happiest bloke alive. And ya know what? It was the best decision I've ever made."
Harry. With his shimmering green eyes and huge smile. He sometimes looked goofy, with his mouth pulled so wide and his every tooth showing, he was so happy. She could hear his rumbling laughter in her ears, feel his strong arms as he hugged her tight. "It's all gonna be okay, 'Mione. One last battle. Just one and it's all over. Don't worry so much! I've faced him how many times now? This should be just the same. When we're done here, we'll all go to The Three Broomsticks and we'll have a firewhiskey. Maybe just a butterbeer for Susan, I think... I think I might just be a dad, 'Mione." He grinned at her, "Can you imagine? Me! A dad!" He laughed then and Hermione could hear it echoing in her mind, sweet and excited. Tears gathered in her eyes and she felt as though she were going to fall any second, but she swallowed it. All of it. The tears, the stinging of her throat, the tingling of her skin, the twisted sensation in her stomach. She gathered a deep breath and she turned to face her best friend's father, hoping he was ready to discuss his pain.
They reached the Kitchens and Hermione tickled the underside of the pear in the portrait absentmindedly. James didn't appear to notice as they walked in and took their seats across from each other. Hermione politely asked one of the House Elves to bring her a Shepherd's pie while James ordered the biggest piece of chocolate cake he could, using his arms to illustrate just how much he wanted. Hermione bit her tongue when the need to tell him so much sugar would be horrible for his teeth, knowing he would tune her out and simply smile at her in that infuriating way that told her he was amused by her smarts but didn't much care about his teeth, no matter how many lectures she gave him. He fiddled with the table top for a moment, dipping his fingertip into the cracks and nicks in the wood, his eyes downcast, his mouth set in a grim frown and his whole body slumped in defeat.
"What am I going to do when they're gone?" he asked her softly, his voice cracked.
Hermione paused, knowing that she should tell him that one day it wouldn't hurt. That he'd gather himself up and move forward, but she couldn't. "Everybody deals with death in their own way, James. When I lost Harry, I locked myself up in my room and read every single book I had on my shelves. I thought... I thought if I researched just a little more, I could somehow change what happened. That if I knew something now, it would change what happened then. But... but he never came back." She let out a shaky breath and then blinked quickly. James stared at her, his eyes wide, and she knew that she really didn't talk about Harry or Ron enough. She kept it hidden and so when the rare occasion came up that she shared her past with one of the Marauders, they always looked surprised and saddened by what she had to say. She made a quick note in her head to start telling them more lively stories, ones that would cause smiling and laughter, even if it hurt to think back and know she couldn't have it again.
James leaned forward to hear more, intent on knowing how it would feel, how she dealt with it. She inhaled a shaky breath, and told him about her mourning of her other best friend. "When Ron was murdered, along with his wife and little girl Brooke, I... I--" She swallowed painfully and then clasped her hands together tightly, hoping to focus on the pain in her clenching hands than in her heart. "I went to his house... and I sat in his front yard until I was so angry... I-- I couldn't speak." She shook her head, clenching her jaw when her chin began to quiver. She remembered that night vividly. "Then... I-- I went inside and I screamed until my throat was hoarse. I cried my eyes raw, and I destroyed everything I could get my hands on." Her eyes darted all over, as if seeing the wreckage she had created. "And when it was all over, I was left sobbing on the floor, shaking. And I waited... and waited... Thinking he would show up," she said, shrugging as if it didn't hurt, though the ache seemed just as present as always. Lurking and burning her with its intensity. She sniffled, her eyes tearing up, "And he'd yell at me for ruining his favorite Chudley Cannons poster," she told him, letting out a choked chuckle.
James half-smiled sympathetically, lifting his chin a bit and nodding as if he understood. His smile fell though and his face darkened. "But he never came. They... They'll never come back. And I'll just be stuck here... without them," he said brokenly.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. You won't see them again for a long, long time." She nodded slowly, licking her lips after she bit them so hard they were swollen. "But... you said your mum and dad, they were very in love, weren't they? They were always together. They did everything with each other. Finished one another's sentences, knew what the other wanted before the other even thought of it." She let out a quaking breath, reminded of her husband. "I know it hurts, James, but... but wouldn't your mum want to be with your dad?"
He nodded jerkily, tears filling his eyes. "I know... I know that. I just..." He shook his head, turning to her. "I know it's not possible to change things, but sometimes I think... 'what if?'" He swallowed audibly, lifting his hands and running them through his hair anxiously. "What if... somehow... I could go back and I could-- I could do something to save him. I know-- I know that the Healer said it was natural, but... But what is natural about leaving behind your wife and son?" he asked, his voice rising only to crack.
Hermione reached out, taking one of his hands in hers. "He loved you." He shook his head, opening his mouth to say something. She just knew it was going to be something senseless, like if he loved him he wouldn't have died on him. "No, James, listen," she commanded, biting down on her lip to trap her emotions so she could speak calmly. "Your father loved you. He loved you when he was alive and he loves you still. And he's gone... He's... He's not coming back." She shook her head, sniffling. "And your mum, she's not doing well. And one day, maybe soon, she's not going to be here. But she'll have loved you." She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. "And when she's gone, you can know that your parents are together. That somewhere, in heaven, or some place that witches and wizards go, they are looking down at you and they are thinking of how desperately proud of you they are." She squeezed his hand, feeling her heart chip a little more at the tears that fell from his hazel eyes. "They're going to look at each other and they're going to think of just how wonderful you turned out to be. They'll look down on you when you graduate, when you get married, when you have your first son, and many, many years from now, when you too pass away in your bed." She inhaled slowly, wishing the burn from her throat away. "And you're going to live every day knowing that they loved you, that they gave you all that they could, that they're up there, watching, and that while they couldn't be right here beside you, their feelings will never change."
He sighed shakily, nodding. "D'you know that?" he asked her, his voice hoarse. "D'you feel like Harry and Ron, and your husband are watching over you?" he wondered, lifting a hand to push away his tears.
Hermione nodded quickly, her throat throbbing from the pain of holding back her aching sobs. "Yeah, Harry and Ron will always watch my back, I think. And R--" She cleared her throat, hoping he didn't notice that. It was only one letter, she reassured herself, there was no way he could possibly have deciphered her deep, hidden secret. That was preposterous! "My husband, he was my biggest fan," she murmured, chuckling. "He's always with me. Pushing me forward, encouraging me to keep going, loving me," she whispered, shaking her head and closing her eyes tight. She inhaled thickly, before letting it out in a quick rush. "The people that really matter, James, they never really leave us," she told him, her voice a whisper.
He lifted his eyes, red rimmed and glistening with tears. "Have you ever left anyone, Hermione?"
Hermione remembered Brighton, Darnell, and the anxious Jacques, watching her leave with worried and unsure faces. "Not without intent to see them again." She shook her head. "Our choices must be based on what is better for the whole. Sometimes those choices hurt the few, but they were made for the many. It seems calloused, I know." She sighed, her lips pursing for a moment. "When we're hurting, we often make rash decisions and there are times that we hurt those that we care about. But, I think that eventually, once we've calmed down, we go back to those we love. Some way, some how." She nodded, half-smiling through the sadness.
He stared at her. "Will you ever leave us?" he asked quietly, looking worried. He sighed, his eyes falling. He didn't let her answer, his own confusion coming forth in a rush. "I don't know what it is. I've thought about it. I've tried to reason it out from every angle. I shouldn't trust you like I do. I shouldn't... not with the world how it is now. But..." He lifted his eyes, staring straight at her, and for a moment she was quite sure he could see her soul. "There is something about you, Hermione. It makes me feel safe. It's like... like I know that with you here, the world can't end." He snickered, sounding more flummoxed than anything. "You probably think I'm barmy--"
"No," she interrupted him, shaking her head swiftly. "No, I want you to believe in that, James. I can't promise you that the world won't end, but I can promise that I will do everything in my grasp to keep you safe," she told him passionately. It occurred to her that their conversation was quickly reaching a place that she couldn't yet reveal to him, but he looked so sad, so desperate. He only wanted to believe in something, to have someone tell him that he would be okay when it all came crashing down. She wasn't willing to just placate him for the moment and send him on his way.
A couple of House-Elves interrupted them then, placing their meals in front of them. James' gaze fell to his cake, but it didn't hold any of his usual childlike indulgence, he simply poked at it with his fork. Hermione cut up her Shepherd's pie, watching the steam come out and waiting for it to cool down a little. The House-Elves retreated to their cleaning and cooking, so they were left in heavy silence once more.
It surprised her just how easily she came to understand the boy in front of her. She considered him to be the equivalent of a little brother, just lacking the full history behind them to make it as meaningful as it could be. They fell into the roles as if second nature and it was curious how at ease James seemed to be with it all. He spoke to her as if he had known her so much longer than he had. His common expression with her was one of amused familiarity and she couldn't really explain it. She chastised him like she'd done it her whole life, and she worried briefly that (like Sirius years ago) she was seeing Harry instead of James. But then there'd be a moment where she'd look at him, truly look at him, and see the mischievous, arrogant, cheeky James Potter and she felt those same reactions. The need to keep him safe, to tell him when he was doing something foolish, to generally treat him like he was a (secretly enjoyed) nuisance in her life. Her exasperation barely hid her sisterly affection for him, and she couldn't blame only her mission for wanting to keep him safe. Perhaps of all the Marauders, James was the one who grew on her easiest.
Remus was harder, given that he was a constant reminder of her lost husband. There were moments where she separated them, but she wasn't up to the point where she could look at him and see two different people. She would remind herself that it wasn't her Remus and force herself not to hug him for the simple reason of having his arms around her. They were good enough friends now that she could talk to him comfortably, but she had to watch her words constantly. He was a good boy though. Very smart and insightful, always friendly and at times even shy. He had a protectiveness about her that the older Remus had, too. Though he did try and hide it now. Hermione had first brushed it off as a wolf instinct, as a jealousy that any werewolf would have. But now she was beginning to see his irritation with just about everybody that came near her. He growled without even meaning to at times, and she realized that he was scared that something might happen to her if he wasn't looking. Her Remus had a fiercely protective side, which she knew very well in her time. But it was surprising to see in this Remus, though his personality certainly called for it. She had to remind herself that her Remus was once this Remus, therefore there would be numerous similarities. It was defining the differences, separating herself from the situation enough to see that this Remus was not her Remus that she was still struggling with.
Similar to Remus, Sirius was sometimes hard to look at without seeing the broken, depressed man she once knew. And of course there were still his lingering doubts about her to deal with. She was actually more proud than worried of Sirius for acting the way he did. She could tell that he trusted her to some extent, that he enjoyed her company, and didn't want to believe she was anyone but who she said she was, but there was always the suspicion in his eyes when she said or did something that seemed a little too knowledgeable. It was smart not to accept her without question though, it was good to be on guard. She was only saddened that he hadn't put that same suspicion on Peter when it was needed.
Peter was a whole other spectrum. Hermione had reached out as best she could; which wasn't very far, she had to admit. She tried to bring him into conversations, was polite and courteous, never lashed out irrationally at him or began screaming about traitorous acts. She did, however, tend to show him a rather cold exterior of herself. She found herself looking at him as a separate entity from the Marauders. The tag along, the boy who was simply there, not really a part of it. She was ashamed to say that she was ostracizing him without even knowing it at times.
"Why?" James' soft query jarred her from her thoughts.
She glanced up at him from her cooling pie and retraced her steps enough to know that he was asking why she would do all that was in her power to keep him safe. She didn't like lying, and she didn't want to have more than needed to explain later. She wanted to give him a roundabout answer, so that later she could say to him that she had tried to tell him, wanted to tell him, but couldn't. For his own safety really. "You're special, James. In ways you don't even know. One day, I'll explain all of it to you. But for now, I need you to trust that I will be here for you, doing all that I can to keep you from harm," she told him establishing serious eye contact in hopes that he wouldn't doubt her words.
"I do trust you," he replied, nodding. "I'm not entirely sure why, but I do." He sliced into his cake with his fork then, turning his attention away for a moment. It was silent as Hermione began eating her pie, and she wondered what it was that he was thinking about. A half-smile had graced his face and finally, he said, "So, you're like, what? My bodyguard or something?" he asked cheekily.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't go that far," she replied, pursing her lips.
"Yeah, like my guardian? Watchdog? Champion and defender?" He smirked at her, his eyes regaining that spark of mischief. "My heroine, I suppose."
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes and filling her mouth with the heavenly flavor of Shepherd's pie. She chewed it a few moments, feeling a little more lighthearted as she saw him chuckle to himself and relax his stance. He dug into his cake with fervor then and she barely held back her grimace as she thought of just how unhealthy all that chocolate could be. Remus would absolutely love it, she thought.
James offered her a bite, but she shook her head in dismissal. "It's really good," he told her, his eyes wide with emphasis. "Just try it! Com'on, one bite! Just one! I'll leave you alone just take one bite! Seriously, 'Mione, eat the cake!" he said, laughingly as he held the fork out, practically dripping with chunks of chocolate cake.
She continued to wave it off, but he persisted. He found it amusing when she began telling him just how unhealthy it was and telling him how bad sugar was for teeth. In the end, he continued to try and talk her into it until she finally sighed in exasperation and tried it. And, admittedly, it was perhaps the second best bite of chocolate cake she'd ever had in her life. The first was of her wedding cake, which Remus had been very adamant on being 'chocolattic,' to which she replied, "Chocolattic? Remus, that's not even a word!" He stared at her, his eyes thin with thought and then grinned. "Sure it is, love, I just made it one," he decided, giving a sharp nod as if it somehow made it a word even more.
After they'd finished eating, Hermione thanked the House-Elves and they left the Kitchens. Finding the time, Hermione told James he should probably be off, and then promptly asked if he'd finished all his homework. He chuckled, not answering her query but instead smiling at her warmly. "Thank you," he said, his smile slowly slipping as he stared at her with warm gratitude.
"I didn't do a thing," she assured, shaking her head. "It's you who has to go through it, James. I'll simply be there whenever you want to talk."
He nodded, lifting a hand to run through his hair. "That's what I'm thanking you for. Sirius and Remus, they're the best friends I could ask for. And they'd listen if I asked, but... they've never really lost anyone. Nobody who meant the world to them, and I thought... I thought you could relate to me. And you did," he said, nodding. He sighed, slow and accepting. "My mum, she's tough. So was my dad though," he admitted, shrugging. He swallowed thickly, "I don't think I'll ever feel better about it, but... But I think I can handle knowing that even though I can't see them, they can see me." He paused, glancing up as if he thought he'd see his dad there above his head. "Ya really think they'll be proud of me?"
"You're someone to be proud of," she replied agreeably.
He chortled, lifting his arms and crossing them over his chest. "You're somethin' Professor Granger," he said, looking back over at her.
"Oh, I'm Professor Granger, now," she teased, smiling.
He shrugged, half-smirking. "Thought I'd give it a try. Feels weird," he admitted, chuckling. "I don't usually call you anything in class."
"That's because you're too busy admiring at Lily," she bugged, smiling as a faint blush lifted on his cheeks.
He snickered, half-shrugging. "D'you think she'll ever...?" he looked at her hopefully. "I mean, I know I'm not the most serious guy, but... I would love her if she let me," he said in a soft, honest voice.
Hermione stared at him a moment, before smiling widely. "Don't give up," she said, finally. "One day, she's going to turn around, look right at you, and realize you are quite simply her James."
He grinned so wide he reminded Hermione of the goofy-Harry-smile. "Ya think?"
"I know," she replied softly. "Now off to bed, I have to get some sleep myself." She waved him a way as if he were a bug and tried to hide her smile at him. She really was getting far too close to all of the Marauders. If her past told her anything, it was not to establish tight-knit relations with people... they all end up dying.
"Right, sure," he said, happily. "Thanks again! See ya tomorrow." He turned and began skipping down the hall, looking as if he'd just won the lottery.
Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes as she turned and left for her rooms. A yawn escaped her and she realized she really was quite tired. It was while she was rounding the corner that led down to the hall entrances to her rooms and office that she saw the boy being picked on. She could hear a few taunts being tossed at him as he was roughly pushed against a wall and then his books which he had been holding tight to his chest were knocked from his grasp. Hermione didn't think twice before she hurried down the hall, her steps so soft that they didn't hear her coming. There was a good reason she had been so skilled in war, was a top Auror, and considered one of the strongest partners of The Order, and it wasn't only her brain. She was quick, limber, quiet and sneaky. She could also be very harmful with and without her wand in hand. She scowled as she recognized the faces of a couple sixth year Slytherin boys, but didn't take notice of just who it was they were tormenting.
"Would you like to explain your presence here?" Hermione asked, startling the four boys enough to jump.
The three attackers turned slowly, braced for a lecture. Their eyes widened slightly upon seeing her and then looked curiously at each other, as if they were trying to decipher how it would all turn out. She wasn't known for being lenient, but she also wasn't someone who would penalize them far too unjustly. She was young, but she wasn't without knowledge in the matters of bullying and dealing with those doing it.
"I asked a question, I expect a prompt reply," she snapped, her hands settling on her hips. "I don't put up with bullying, d'you understand me?" she asked sharply. They nodded quickly, each looking as if they were ready to bolt. "Thirty points from each of you and I'll see you for two weeks detention. If I hear of any one of you threatening another student, I will personally speak to Dumbledore about your expulsion, do I make myself clear?" she asked, her eyes narrowed and her jaw tight in annoyance. It was also widely noticed that Dumbledore considered her like a long lost granddaughter, and some speculated that he would do almost anything she asked. Hermione never took his faith in her for granted however, and never asked for anything that wasn't needed. She was a respectable Professor, just like her colleagues, and she wasn't about to sully that by using Dumbledore as some sort of wish granter. That didn't mean she couldn't use it to her advantage by scaring the students into believing that their expulsion would be granted without question for Professor Granger.
"Yes, ma'am," they replied, voices shaking.
"Good. Get back to your dorms, now!" she told them, lifting one hand to point. They scattered, all but one at least. The boy who had previously been undergoing a stressful and emotionally taxing verbal and physical assault still stood against the wall, looking both surprised and confused. Hermione turned to him, only now realizing just who it was. Severus Snape was staring at the floor in front of her feet, mildly ashamed and looking as if he wanted to pick his dignity back up, dust it off, and shove it in her face. His greasy, stringy hair hung down in front of his pasty white face, covering part of it from her view. His shoulders were slumped forward and while he didn't appear to have any physical marks on his face, she could tell by the way he was leaning that his stomach was bothering him. She wasn't sure why a Slytherin would attack a fellow Housemate, and she knew that Snape wouldn't tell, but she decided then and there to keep a closer eye on him and his House.
"A little light reading, Mr. Snape?" she asked as she gathered his books from the floor.
"Yes, Professor," he replied, his voice cold but quiet.
She nodded, righting herself and handing them to him. She considered simply leaving, thinking he likely wouldn't want his pride bruised anymore, but couldn't help it when the next words came out of her mouth. "I was picked on since I was a little girl. I don't believe it ever really gets easier." She nodded, her eyes turned off. "You know where my office is if you are ever in need of me," she told him simply. "Curfew ended a half-hour ago, Mr. Snape, best hurry before Filch finds you loitering," she called back as she walked toward her private quarters. He didn't reply, but she did hear him hurry off a moment later.
With a sigh, she let herself into her rooms and changed into her nightwear to get some sleep. She was exhausted lately, what with classes, planning, preparation for the next full moon, trying to find Darnell, and making sure that everything in the timeline was still on course. Falling into her lumpy bed, Hermione rolled on to her side, pulled her warm duvet up to her shoulders, inhaled the fading scent of her husband on the pillow and closed her eyes in hopes that her nightmare would be less painful. Sadly, the same thing that always occurred in her dreams did and she had to witness Remus be murdered by Bellatrix, without a single moment changing, without her getting to him in time. She woke a couple hours before anybody else would be up and knew she wouldn't be getting any more sleep. After showering and changing, she made her way to her office and finished a little more reading from the tomes she had left on her desk.
The sun rose in the distance, slipping through the window and making the puddle of a candle no longer needed. Hermione rubbed at her eyes, stifled a yawn, and frowned as she rose from her seat and stretched her lower back. Her first class was still a few hours away, as well as breakfast, but she was feeling cooped up and wanted to move around. Walking to her room, she pulled Remus' black jacket from the wardrobe and draped it around her shoulders. She didn't bother buttoning it, but slipped her hands into the pockets, warming them. Her husband was much taller than her, and so the jacket looked rather large and frumpy on her, but she didn't give the matter much thought. She found comfort in the smell and texture, remembering how her arm used to curve around his and her hand would lay on the sleeve loosely.
The air was still chilly from night as she took a walk around the school, hearing nothing but the birds chirping and her footsteps echoing. As she looked out on the grounds, she was overwhelmed with nostalgia. She hardly left her classroom anymore and hadn't been outside really since the full moon. The area surrounding Hogwarts was quite magical in its beauty. The Forbidden Forest certainly had a sense of foreboding and darkness to it, but all else was simply magnificent. Some of her best memories were served both in and outside the castle, roaming the grounds or sneaking about the halls. She was too tired to feel too sad about the past and simply half-smiled in reminiscence before moving down the halls farther.
When she returned to her classroom, she found Albus having a conversation with her statues. They weren't responding verbally, but the Headmaster seemed to have established some kind of understanding of them. He'd laugh when they did something and nod as if they had replied. "Oh yes, you're quite right, I agree completely. But I must say, the wool socks have something so much more than the cotton ones. They're brighter, warmer, and I must say, simply more cheerful!"
Hermione simply rolled her eyes and approached the older man with a curious smile on her face. "Albus," she interrupted, looking at him and then down at the wizard statue as it sat down on transfigured chair that he brought forth with his wand. He could only really do a couple minor charms, and only with the material he had on him.
"Oh, good morning Hermione," he greeted, turning to smile at her warmly. "I came by earlier to talk to you but you were out, I presume. Did you enjoy your walk, my dear?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Very much," she replied, nodding as she took a seat near him. "May I ask what it is you came to see me about?" she wondered, her brows furrowing slightly.
"A certain werewolf," he replied jovially, sounding quite excited. "I believe he goes by Darnell, you were looking for him early on when you arrived. I've finally found a position for him that has just been verified. He'll only be there for another couple days however, it seems his pack moves around a lot. To avoid attacks, you understand," He nodded gravely, before sighing. "I unfortunately cannot excuse you for the day of classes, nor tomorrow's, as there is no one to fill in and Brighton cannot actually run classes in your absence. However, there is a portkey in Hogsmeade, at The Three Broomsticks, waiting for you. It will disappear if not used by eight o'clock tonight. If you take it, it will drop you in the town of which Darnell and his pack lives on the outskirts of. There is a map there to finding him that will also disappear at promptly ten. Now, if you succeed in making it there, another portkey, one to bring you back, can be found in the exact same spot, but will only appear if you've taken the first portkey. Simple, really," he said, nodding.
"And the second portkey, when does it expire?" she wondered, tapping her chin.
"Not until seven the next morning," he replied assuringly.
"All right," she said, smiling as she stood up. "I really appreciate your help with this, Albus. Darnell is a very old friend, one who has stood by me through so much already. I... He..." She shook her head, not sure how to explain it.
"I understand, my dear. Mentors are the sort that we want with us always," he reassured, smiling in a grandfatherly manner.
She nodded, feeling his words fit perfectly. Darnell really was like a mentor to her. Somebody who picked her up when she fell and told her to lift her chin. A man who believed in her but never faltered in his own beliefs to suit her. Somebody who wanted to make a difference in the world, but wasn't willing to sacrifice anybody for it, not unless it was himself. A man with morals, intelligence, and a strong sense of loyalty. She trusted him entirely, and couldn't imagine completing the task ahead of her without him. "Yes, thank you," she said to Albus. "You've helped me so much," she told him, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Dumbledore too was a mentor, one that she was grateful every day to have in her life once again.
"Think nothing of it," he told her easily. "Now, I best be off. It's nearly breakfast and I have a bet going with Professor Socors over which one of us can drink the most pumpkin juice before our skin turns a familiar orange," he said, chuckling. Before Hermione could reply to that oddity, he turned and started for the door, whistling to himself.
Hermione shook her head and left up to her rooms, deciding to change into her robes and leave for breakfast. She smiled as she realized that she would be seeing Darnell later that evening. Chewing her lip, she worried that maybe he wouldn't be as receptive as she hoped. She would have to be careful, especially entering his colony at night. She was taking a big risk, but she was willing to do it. Darnell was someone who helped inspire most of the other werewolves. He was older, more wise and knowing than the rest. They looked up to him and he gave them the first push to look toward a brighter future. But she met Darnell when he was in his sixties, which was twenty years after his age now. Meaning he could quite definitely be a whole other person. She sighed, hoping that when she met him again, she would see a familiar and welcoming face.
Hermione's classes seemed to drag on forever and her thoughts were constantly away from the students and the subject at hand. A few of them asked if she was feeling okay, and she cursed her ongoing absentmindedness. James apologized for keeping her up late, thinking that he somehow caused her behavior, and while she assured him that he wasn't the reason, she couldn't tell him what she was planning to do that evening. The Marauders had all voiced their discomfort with her going off to a werewolf colony to look for Darnell without anyone there to keep her safe. She had made the mistake of telling them one afternoon that she would need to find him and that he lived with a secluded colony, one that tended to be very wary of humans. Since then if Darnell was ever brought up, she was stuck with a shouting Sirius, a frowning James, and a worried Remus. Peter had no opinion, though he did sometimes agree with one of the Marauders that it sounded like suicide to walk into a werewolf colony alone. If she mentioned it now, they would find a way to accompany her, and she couldn't have that.
It was lunch now and Hermione was diligently trying to avoid Brighton's worried glances. He hadn't said anything, but he did manage to get her out of a couple sticky situations. Like when she hadn't been paying attention and one of the students was practicing a defensive spell that would likely harm the user rather than the attacker. Brighton had stepped in and simply said that she kept him on his toes with all this hands-on learning she had him doing. He told the students that it was an experiment of hers, to see if he would recognize any mistakes and counter them promptly. Given that he was the teacher's aid, he had to have some responsibility. Hermione would blush, go along with his story, and then apologize for leaving him to watch her classes for her. She felt horrible for dropping such a burden on his shoulders, especially with the clumsy first years.
"Hermione," Brighton said, his voice quiet but strong. "Are you sure you're feeling well? I can put up review for the next couple classes and you could take some time to yourself," he offered. "Henri Frederic Amiel says, 'In health there is freedom. Health is the first of all liberties.' It's important that you take care of yourself, and it's quite obvious that something is not right," he told her, frowning.
Hermione nodded, "I've been distracted, but it's not my health, Brighton," she assured. "There are only two more classes left, I'll be fine. Don't worry yourself. Did you find that talisman in the book I gave you?" she wondered, changing the subject.
He nodded, not looking entirely placated but accepting it as it was. He turned, lifting the book and flipping through the pages to the one she desired. They sat down to discuss it for a moment, still having a few minutes before lunch ended and another class came to greet her. Her thoughts were running away from her so she forced them back. She was worried, which was smart really, it wasn't intelligent to underestimate werewolves. But Darnell had assured her that while he might be suspicious, all she had to do was say the password, and he would know that she wasn't to be harmed. Taking a deep breath, she resolved herself to the fact that whether she was worried or not, she would be taking that portkey out of Hogsmeade and walking into the forest with a werewolf colony as her destination. She would talk to Darnell, convince him that she was definitely not making up some elaborate lie, and she would gain a true and loyal ally, while bringing the opportunity of equality to a whole group of werewolves.
She was soon distracted by her classes again and they seemed to move much quicker after her resolution. When the day ended, her stomach was too knotted with anticipation for her to eat dinner. She gathered a couple things from her room, including a picture from her lounge, thinking that she might just need to tell him the whole story, knowing that of all the werewolves, he was the one who would most likely trust and understand why she did it. While he wasn't happy that she had done it, and didn't exactly believe she made the right choice, he did know her and believe that she was doing something worthwhile. And this Darnell might to be as perceptive right away, but she'd know whether or not it was smart to show him the picture immediately or put it off for awhile. She could read Darnell after being his friend for so many years, and she would be able to tell if he trusted her or thought she was simply a crazy woman. Even in the future he had been skeptical at first, but he had given her a chance and eventually came around.
By seven-thirty, Hermione was pacing her classroom. She had a knapsack of things on her shoulder and she was chewing her lip so much, she was sure it was raw and bruised. She had dressed all in black, wearing her clothes from when she first arrived. The only difference was the lack of robes, instead opting for a coat. Gathering her strength, she left the classroom and hoped nobody would question what she was doing or where she was going. Unfortunately, she bumped into Lily as she was leaving. "Miss. Evans," she greeted, her voice mildly choked in surprise. She often found it quite amusing how Lily had taken to using the professional terms, even though they usually spoke quite friendly to each other outside of classes, enjoying the Marauders antics, though often snickering on the outside at them.
"Professor," she said, half-smiling. "Oh, well, you weren't at dinner, so I thought I'd come see if you were feeling all right. I noticed you were very distracted in class and I wasn't sure..." She trailed off and Hermione caught her eyes falling on the knapsack over Hermione's arm. "A-Are you going somewhere?" she wondered, lifting a brow.
"Yes, but I'll be back in the morning," she replied, quickly. "Listen, Lily, I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Please," she stressed the word seriously, "you mustn't tell the boys!" She wanted to believe the redhead would keep it to herself, but with her acting so strangely, she really wasn't sure. She pulled her hand out of the pocket of Remus' coat and checked the gold watch in her hand, noting the time. "I really must go," she told her, turning and hurrying down the hall. "All will be explained tomorrow, I assure you!" she called back, flustered.
Her mind was a bit muddled as she left for the small town outside of Hogwarts. The halls were relatively empty, though she did pass a couple of her students. She knew she looked flushed and rather irregular, what with her avoiding speaking to any of them for any amount of time, but she had to get out as quick as possible. She could have left earlier, but she didn't want to run the risk of walking into any of the Marauders or leaving early enough for there to be too much light out. She didn't want to tip people off, not those from Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, or where she was going. To get out, she took a hidden tunnel that very few in the school knew about. She hadn't realized she was muttering under her breath until she heard her voice echo back with a snarky reply. Even the tunnels around Hogwarts were charmed to do things the Marauders must've found quite amusing. She could just imagine Fred and George, too, saying things just to hear what their echo might reply with. She sighed, wondering how it was she always seemed to get mixed up with mischievous, trouble causing boys wherever she went. She mused about how lucky she was, though, as they always seemed to be the most loyal and strong in character. She had to admit she needed more female friends though, chuckling lightly at the idea.
Standing in the dimly lit Hogsmeade, Hermione made her way towards The Three Broomsticks, seeing a warm light pour out the side windows. She could hear laughter and easy conversation filtering through the door and pushed inside. She briefly glanced at those around her before walking to the bar. She waved at Madam Rosmerta, who had been quite friendly ever since Hermione arrived, though she was sure that was simply good business. The barmaid ushered her to the back room, her expression one that lacked any way to tell she was about to give Hermione a way out of Hogsmeade and into a place far into another country, where she would then recruit werewolves. The other patrons of the establishment likely thought nothing of the nice woman showing Hermione the back area, especially after she called out a believable excuse about the most interesting new beverage she had accidentally concocted one night. Rosmerta was known for her skills at creating the most intriguing beverages simply by accident.
"Dumbledore said you would be in need of this tonight," Rosmerta said, pointing down at an empty box of Lemon Drops. "I don't know where you're going or why you need to go. I trust Albus so I expect you won't be bringing back any unsavory characters." She half-smiled, glancing over Hermione's shoulder and then back at her. "Be safe and keep your eyes open. The times they are difficult," she said grimly. Her eyes darting back and forth. Hermione wasn't sure who would be listening in on the conversation, she was quite certain that the excuse given to the customers was believable enough. "I'll leave ya'll to it then," she said, before wiping her hands on her apron and moving to the door. "Whoo! What a kick!" she called out, chuckling. "Poor lass'll be out for a couple hours yet," she said to the patrons of the bar. They all chuckled good-naturedly and Hermione heaved a great sigh as she stepped toward the portkey.
Shifting her knapsack on her shoulder, she licked her lips and stared down at the empty box, frowning. "Just remember the password and you'll be fine," she mumbled, closing her eyes and reaching out. She hated portkeys.
The familiar tug at her navel happened and she felt mildly queasy as she spiraled through the world to land at her destination. She landed with a gentle thud, her shoulders falling forward an inch at the landing. There was dust in the air, as it immediately assaulted her senses and she barely held back a sneeze. Opening her eyes, she found that not only was she standing in what appeared to be a closed, and possibly abandoned, sweets shop, but that she wasn't alone. She felt her anger grow along with her fear of what could go wrong, and her hands fisted. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Do you have any idea how unsafe it was for you to follow me? Let alone here, of all places!" she shrieked, shaking her head. "You have to go back! You have to--" She looked down, seeing that there was only one portkey and it wasn't the one they arrived with. This one would take them back, but she wouldn't have a way out in the morning. She sighed, feeling frustrated. "You are in so much trouble!" she exclaimed, frowning as she shook her head.
A/N Hey readers, sorry it's been a little while since I updated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and those before it. The next is where the action becomes a little more prominant and from there I'm hoping to speed things up more, without making it choppy, I assure. I've received so much incredible feedback from this story and I can't thank you all enough for reviewing and telling me your honest and sincere opinion. This story has to be one of the best I feel I've ever created and one of those I enjoy writing to the fullest extent. So thank you all for reading and reviewing, it truly is appreciated.
Have a lovely May long weekend...
Much Love,
-Amanda