Author's Note – Hot off the press, guys! Thank you so much for reading my stories. The reviews have all been great!
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Michael de Lupin – Thank you very much for your kind encouragement.
Angelic Bladez – I'll never tell who sent her the box! Never! Well…until, of course, that person decides to own up to it. ;)
Viktor Krum's lazyllama101 – Updated! ;)
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What the hell is wrong with me?
Remus hesitated, brushing a hand through his tangled hair. He watched her scanning the rows of books-the arch of her back straining as she reached for the top shelf. He smiled. "You're welcome to borrow anything you like," he said. Quickly, he regretted it. "I mean...what sort of professor would I be if I didn't try to...induce your learning?" Stupid, stupid. Stop stuttering, idiot, and keep your eyes above her shoulders.
Hermione turned to him and smiled. "You have a wonderful library, Professor."
Professor. You remember that, Remus, old boy. You're her professor, not her damned secret admirer. Speaking of which...
"Hermoine, I was wondering if I might examine that...box." Oh, Merlin, keep your dirty mind out of this. "Albu-The Headmaster informed me that it appeared to be an antique."
Hermione sighed and moved to the satchel she had tossed on her professor's old worn-leather couch. "No one seems to know the owl that delivered it," she said, pulling the dark, wooden object from her bag. She began to chew her bottom lip as she offered the gift to Remus. "I...uh...don't recognize the handwriting inside." A blush.
Remus smiled graciously and took a seat on the couch. Hermione, deciding against passing up the chance to further study the books, returned to stand in front of the rows of bookcases.
The haggard professor turned the box over in his hands, feeling it take up both palms with a powerful weight. "It's most certainly enchanted," he said, "which is really quite...ironic considering its intended purpose."
At this, Hermione turned. "Professor?"
"It's a Devil's Box," he explained. "In medieval times, when the integration of Muggles and Wizards was still present, the Catholic Church sought out a way to calm Muggle fears of the power of our kind. Of course, as you well know, their tactic was burning. However, this torture, as the Catholic powers soon found out, did not usually result in the death of true witches. To complete the...task, it was devised that the young woman's...heart would be removed." He hesitated, watching Hermione's face pale severely. "We cannot change the past, Hermione-only learn from."
She nodded in accordance and took a seat next to him. Remus shifted uncomfortably.
"The heart would then be placed in a box-a box like this that depicted Christian scenes. It was believed, then, that the witch could never leave the gates of hell." Remus paused to snort. "Muggle logic."
Hermione looked down at the box, twisting her hands in her lap. "Professor...what about the..." Hesitantly, she made a motion to remove the lid.
Remus complied, pulling the top from the box and setting it carefully aside. His lips tightened. "Someone obviously cares a great deal for you, Hermione," he said.
The girl paled. "I...I thought it might have some...enchantment." Her eyes scanned over the pearls. "My first guess was...well, it was rather absurd, really..."
Remus looked up to catch her gaze. Merlin. I would never have guessed it at her age..."I believe you're quite right," he said. "You're first inclination-you believe it is a Lost Artifact, don't you?"
The girl nodded. "It would fit the description, Professor. I remember reading in Hogwarts: A History that it was suspected one, if not several, of the artifacts were hidden here to prevent detection by the Ministry of Magic."
"It would be a brilliant place to hide them." Remus sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "With all the power generated from a building filled with hundreds of wizards, it would go virtually undetected, even by prying sources."
And just what prying sources managed to find it? he wondered.
He looked at her, shaken by his own instinct to touch her. Was he going mad? I fail to remember the precise time at which Miss Granger was taken from the student category and placed into the "shag-able" section. Bitterly, he stifled the urge to laugh. He needed to get a grip on himself again. It was not all together unfathomable that a newly matured and beautiful little thing like Hermione would awaken such feelings in him-it was only imperative that he suppress these urges. "I am not quite sure what these…objects were made to do, Hermione. However, I do suggest that you investigate the matter yourself-I do not feel any harm shall come to you from them. Do feel free to use any resource of mine to aid you in your search."
She smiled.
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Hermione sighed, strolling leisurely through the halls. It was not quite eleven, and yet the light emitted from the tip of her wand was sufficient in guiding her towards her destination. A Lost Artifact? The conformation from Professor Lupin was all she needed to assure herself in her instinct. A text-book display pronounced itself in her mind:
Lost Artifacts are objects of extreme power that were stolen from Wizarding officials at the dawn of the segregation of mankind into Muggles and Non-Muggles. These objects, each holding different uses and enchantments, are a very rare find and hardly will a curious Witch or Wizard discover enough about them from any library to adequately ascertain their true nature…
Of course, Hermoine Granger was no amateur when it came to research. She was, in fact, quite confident in her abilities to find something on the subject. Perhaps, then, the only thing left to be unsure about was the giver of such a strange gift…and the nature of the giver's intentions…
"Miss Granger."
The figure that stepped from darkness seemed all too content to linger in it a bit more. "What are you doing out of your dormitory after hours?"
Of course. Even a Head Girl was required back in her chambers by ten. It seemed that she had lost track of her time with Re-Professor Lupin. Odd. I have never had the urge to call him by his first name... "I apologize, Professor Snape," she said, lowering her eyes for good measure. "I must have lost track of time. Professor Lupin and I-"
"It is highly inappropriate for a student to stay with any professor after hours. What were you…accomplishing so late?" Snidely, he curled his lips down at her.
Hermione blushed. Had he really just insinuated…? "I…we were discussing a matter of my own personal business," she said, a quiver in her voice. Actually, they had spent a rather enjoyable evening together eating sandwiches and discussing her future in the Wizarding World, among other things in light conversation. Hermione had never realized just how easy Remus was to talk to.
Severus Snape raised an eyebrow curiously. "I'm sure you were…Nevertheless, I am obliged to assign you another two weeks of detention. Do try to be punctual tomorrow evening."
At that, the billow of robes descended once again into the darkness.
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The portrait swung open grumpily. "Are you quite aware of the hour, young lady?" it snapped after Hermione, muttering bitterly under its breath as it closed once more with a light click.
"Hermione?" Harry stood up in his chair, an agitated Crookshanks tumbling out of his lap and to the floor with an ambiance of loud cat-curses. "Where have you been?"
"I went to see Professor Lupin…well, actually, he approached me about my…gift this morning. He wanted to study it."
"Five hours of…studying?"
"Honestly, Harry," she snapped, "not you, too?"
He crossed his arms, a puzzled sort of expression on his face.
"Professor Snape caught me in the halls and made…assumptions about my visit with Professor Lupin," she explained. "Now I have a month of detention."
The Head Boy snorted and stretched. "Still want to defend him?" he asked sourly.
Hermione gave a slight smirk. "I'm starting to rethink my position on that," she remarked bitterly. Curiously, the girl noticed Harry still wearing his school robes. "And where have you been this evening?"
He shot her a dark glance before she chuckled knowingly.
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It was nearly one o'clock that morning that Hermione found herself in the mirror, a pair of antique, pearl earrings drooping gracefully against her neck. One hand gathered the tangle of curls into a pile on her head.
"You look ravishing, dear," the mirror said.
Hermione sighed. "I wonder if that's the purpose."
Fleetingly, she recalled something the Professor had said. Why would the box itself be enchanted?