Your Hidden Past

Silently, the wind moved across the trees, rustling the many dark green leaves as it blew through, creating an eerie sound that sounded much like a flock of ghosts, the one that had joined Harry, Ron and herself at Sir Nicholas' Death Day party.

She'd been lying awake for several hours now, not being able to fall asleep; remembering and missing her friends. Her back arched in a nearly impossible way, a small, frustrated sound leaving her lips. She needed sleep. She needed to go back home.

What were Ron and Harry doing? Would they miss her? Would they – and – oh, no. They were supposed to leave for Brighton. Had they left already? Would they manage to navigate through that city, with neither of them ever having set foot near it?

Her mind spun with the questions that whirred through it, seemingly non-stop, and she decided that, perhaps tonight, sleep would not come.

She occupied the time until breakfast by reading through her Ancient Runes book, yet again.

'Good weather for Quidditch,' said James, holding up a finger in the air, when Hermione and Lily took a seat at the full Gryffindor table.

'Potter, you're a prat,' Lily answered, by way of greeting, as she leant over to retrieve the marmalade from where it stood next to the tiny boy Hermione'd seen in Potions the other day.

'I love you too, Lily,' James said, in an annoying sing-song voice, before turning to the pale boy. 'You do have the banners ready, don't you, Wormtail? It simply wouldn't do to have you forget them again –'

Hermione, suddenly wide awake, cut his sentence short with a sharp, 'Wormtail?'

Lily turned to her, putting a hand in front of her mouth before swallowing. 'Wormtail,' she confirmed, putting down her toast. 'There are four boys in Gryffindor who call themselves the –'

'Marauders!' came a dramatic voice from their right. 'Today, we shall conquer! We shall – well, not divide, obviously – but we shall beat those Ravenclaws by four-hundred and twenty points!'

'Marauders,' continued Lily, pretending to not have heard Sirius' exclamation, 'They're James Potter, who you know, Sirius Black, who is the idiot who just stood on a bench, Peter Pettigrew, who is sitting next to me – he's Wormtail – and –'

'Sirius,' an amused voice said from behind Hermione, 'I know that you like to publically proclaim the score before a foot has been set on the pitch, but keep it down, will you? Wouldn't want to give you detention.'

'Oh, Moony,' sighed Sirius, theatrically, putting a hand to his chest. 'Making sexual implications so early in the morning? We haven't even told James about us, yet!'

'Told me about what?' James asked, looking up at Sirius from where he had been trying to stare down Lily's top.

'About me and Moony being in love with each other, you berk,' said Sirius, pretending to be annoyed, elbowing James in the side.

'What?'

There was a soft laugh that came from behind her, as Remus Lupin slid into the seat next to her, calmly taking some toast out of the toast rack and buttering it. Hermione stared at him, curiously.

'Some people wondered about, ah, Sirius' preferences,' Lily whispered softly.

'Preferences?'

'Sexual preferences, Puckle, m'dear,' Sirius cut in, not even trying to be discreet about the fact that he had been listening in on their conversation.

Hermione flushed. This seemed to satisfy Sirius, and he returned to his conversation with James.

'Oh, don't worry, he isn't always like that,' Lily insisted.

The same soft laugh tickled her ear as she found Remus leaning over to give Lily a look. 'Yes, he is.'

But Hermione wasn't listening; not anymore. Wormtail. Wormtail meant Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew meant betraying everyone sitting around her, laughing gleefully, in three years time.

Peter Pettigrew meant death.

'But, Professor, it is vital that this information should be heard by you, it cannot – I will not let it ruin their world, nor mine!'

'Miss Puckle.' Professor Dumbledore's tone was soft, but demanding and Hermione turned to him, breathing heavily, her mouth set in a firm line.

'I do not want you to inform me of any matters that will arise in the future.' He held up a hand to silence Hermione's angry retort, and she started pacing again. 'These matters shall be dealt with when they arise, and I will not have them be settled with use of information supplied by you.'

'Professor, with all due respect, you are not willing to hear something that will change the course of history for the better – a history that now will, ultimately, claim over a million innocent lives by the hands of one wizard.'

'Voldemort,' interrupted Professor Dumbledore calmly, and Hermione froze, her breath catching in her throat as she turned around to face him again, sitting majestically in a high chair behind his desk.

'I do believe, Miss Puckle, that a game of Quidditch is starting at the school Quidditch pitch any moment now. Miss Evans would be most disappointed not to find you there, cheering your house on. Interesting thing, Quidditch.'

And with that, Hermione's conversation with the Headmaster was over, and she had achieved nothing.

She was still in a foul mood as she stomped over to the Quidditch pitch, fists clenched, not bothering to notice the mud that was splattering in every possible way (successfully dirtying her robes) every time her shoes hit the earth.

'There you are, Jane!'

To Hermione's surprise, when she looked up she didn't find Lily waiting for her in front of the stadium, but Richard Davies, dressed from head to toe in blue and silver, giving her a small grin.

'Richard,' Hermione managed, dazed. 'What are you doing here?'

'Evans had to go off into the locker rooms – something to do with Potter, probably – and she asked me to wait here for you, so that I could show you where to sit to have the best view.'

'Oh, really? And where is this 'best view' you speak of?'

Richard grinned mischievously. 'The commentator's box.'

'And they're off! Potter – pass to Johnson – Wood, Potter, Johnson – ouch, that must've hurt – and a brilliant save by Ravenclaw keeper – you go, Mark!'

Richard had been right; the view from the commentator's box was magnificent. She could see the whole pitch, Hogwarts looming over it threateningly in the back, and all of the stands (with distaste, she found that the Slytherin one was next to hers, and Snape kept sneaking glances at her). Richard, himself, was commentating, and Hermione returned her attention to the match when she heard him muffle a curse.

Gryffindor had scored again. It was for the twenty-seventh time, and it looked like Sirius' prediction might come true after all, if the ferventness of James and the other two Chasers was anything to go by. Sirius, himself, was looking at ease on his broom, swinging his bat effortlessly towards the Ravenclaw Chaser, cutting off his way to the goal.

'– dropped the Quaffle! Such a pity, that is. Oh, we're back to Wood – Johnson – Potter – Johnson – what is that glittering near the goal posts? Could it be the Snitch?'

'It's not, don't fall for it!' Hermione shouted, before she could stop herself, letting down her binoculars.

The Gryffindor Seeker, who had been hovering dangerously close to the commentator's box, flashed a grin at her before putting his finger to his lips, and winking. Hermione blinked for a moment, before she saw him swoop down, and catch the struggling Golden Snitch in his hands.

Sirius' roar of 'I KNEW IT!' somehow managed to echo over the entire pitch.

'Thanks, Richard, I had a lovely time.'

Richard gave her a half-grin, rubbing his neck. 'Ah, it was nothing, really. Glad you liked it.'

'You didn't tell me you commentated on the matches.'

'Usually don't. 'M the captain of the team, actually. But I broke my leg two weeks ago and Madam Pomfrey says it's not safe for me to fly for a few more weeks, so I handed the badge over to the Ravenclaw Keeper until I can.'

'That most be horrible for you,' said Hermione sympathetically, giving him a small smile.

'No, 's all right, really.'

At Hermione's raised eyebrow and amused smile, he gave in. 'It's horrible. Complete and utter torture. I can't even go to practice and comment, because Madam Hooch knows and keeps kicking me off the pitch, talking about giving me a life-long ban if I try again.'

Hermione let out a laugh, and Richard grinned guiltily. Silence fell as they trudged back up to the castle, the last rays of sun casting a flimsy light over the top of the massive trees in the Forbidden Forest. When they reached the main staircase of the castle, Richard turned to Hermione.

'D'you – d'you reckon we could do this again sometime?'

'Sit in a commentator's box at Quidditch match?' teased Hermione. 'Sure, why not?'

'No, no, not at a Quidditch match,' said Richard, not catching on, 'I meant – I meant you and me. Sometime. Alone.'

'In a commentator's box?' added Hermione innocently, deliberately misunderstanding.

'No,' said Richard, sighing and frowning, probably trying to think of a way in which she would understand that he would like to –

'I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you sometime. As friends,' said Hermione, smiling and kissing him on the cheek, before turning around and hurrying up the stairs, to the party that was undoubtedly going on in the tower, celebrating the Gryffindor victory.

Richard was left standing miserably at the bottom of the stairs, one hand to his rapidly warming cheek. 'But I didn't mean as friends,' he murmured softly, sighing again and heading towards the Ravenclaw common room.

James, in a typical James fashion, managed to get a raging hangover, and refused to come out of bed when Peter attempted to get him up the next day.

'Potter, m'boy!'

With a giant leap that wasn't entirely human, Sirius managed to get onto James' bed, and he started bouncing up and down (the ceiling of James' four-poster bed was lying abandoned in a corner of the common room, though no one could tell exactly how it had gotten there) James' mattress.

'Time to get up now! Water the flowers! Woo an Evans or two!'

Sirius pretended not to hear the angry, 'I heard that!' by Lily, two dormitories down (Evans always seemed to hear things when it concerned her and Potter, just like James always seemed to hear and see everything when it came to Lily) as James let out a groan.

'G'way!' James muttered, before burrowing his face in his pillow, and pulling the sheets over his head to block the daylight out.

'Can't do that, sorry, Prongs.'

'Usgshw eshsdfse!'

'No, I'm not going to marry the Giant Squid, now get up, you great lump.'

'ERWfisdo fsdfsd'sdgfs!'

'James, even Snape's mum doesn't do things like that. You're going to get out of bed, and you're going to drink the potion the nice Moony brew for you.'

'Sadsh?'

'Yes, potion. Hangover Potion. You know how brilliant Remus is at Potions.'

'Ukss gdse!'

'Yes, we know Evans is, too. Prongs, don't make me wake you up.'

With a frustrated sigh, James Potter stood up, and put a hand to his forehead. 'I'm floating,' he murmured, darkly.

'Floating?' Sirius repeated, amused.

'Yes, and you'll be too, if you don't give me that Potion within the next second.'

The tap in the bathroom was shut, and Remus poked a dripping head around the door. 'Got Prongs to wake up, did you?' he asked Sirius.

Sirius nodded, while James only glared at what he apparently thought was Sirius (but what turned out to be more of Peter's curtains and less of Sirius), and repeated, 'Floating. Floating. Not good, oh god,' under his breath.

Remus grinned, and meant to turn around. James protested with a loud whine, and Remus frowned. 'What's the matter?'

'Hangover Potion!' James said, moving his fists up and down and stomping his foot on the floor for good measure. Sirius suddenly, very stealthily, began to sneak over to the door.

'I don't have a Hangover Potion,' answered Remus, frowning, 'Sirius used all of that last time, when we were celebrating Marauders-Love-Skimpy-Skirts-Day.'

'PADFOOT!'

Defence against the Dark Arts, Hermione's first class of the day, was shared with a whole lot of Gryffindors, five Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, and Snape, who sat broodingly on the front row, glaring at the top of the Professor's desk as if it had insulted him in every possible way.

To Hermione's surprise, neither James nor Sirius appeared when the bell rang (this seemed to cause no concern to the rest of the class), and instead of sitting next to Sirius, she was now seated next to Remus. Lily sat two seats down, and in between them sat Richard, offering Hermione a smile.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but then the Professor announced they would start practicing Defence on a level they had never practiced on before. Hermione smiled secretly, relieved that they would start doing something she knew how to do.

The Professor demonstrated a duel with a Ravenclaw, to show them several spells and manners of reflecting such spells, and then it was for real, and Hermione could only stare in awe as the Ravenclaw won, disarming the Professor, within twenty seconds.

By Merlin's hat.

Twenty seconds.

She couldn't duel in twenty seconds!

'Now,' said the Professor with a broad smile (the girls on the row in front of Hermione sighed dreamily), 'partner up!'

'Er,' said Hermione, as both Remus and Richard had turned to look at her. Peter, she noticed, had been forced to team up with Snape. Lily saved her of making a choice, however, when she smiled broadly and grabbed Richard's hand. 'Come on, you're my partner. Alice ran off with Frank, that traitor.'

Remus smiled at her, and Hermione felt a strange, jumpy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had absolutely no business being there. Perhaps she ate something funny at breakfast. That marmalade had tasted a bit weird.

'Do they do it a lot?' Remus asked, when Hermione helped push their desks aside so that they could duel.

'Do they do what a lot?'

'Duel. At Beauxbatons.'

'Oh. Beauxbatons,' said Hermione. 'No. They focus more on Transfiguration.'

'Really?' asked Remus, frowning. 'I read in Educational Intercourse: Wizarding Schools of Europe that they specialised in Defence.'

Bugger.

'Er, well, not really,' said Hermione, with an uneasy smile.

'Your English is perfect. Practiced much?'

'Thanks. No, my Dad's English,' said Hermione, starting to wish that Lily had chosen Remus and not Richard to partner with, because Remus asked too many right questions, while Richard asked none.

'Wands at the ready – three – two – one – go!' shouted the Professor, sparing her from more prying questions.

There seemed to be an explosion of spells and hexes all around them. Lily skilfully cast a Freezing Charm on Richard to her right, and in front of her, Peter was hit full-on with a nasty charm that send him, wheezing for breath, to the floor.

However, she had no time to ponder this, because Remus sent a spell her way. Dodging it, she put on a reflecting charm, but Remus gave her a knowing grin, and cast a spell Hermione had never heard of. The white bubble around her disappeared, and within a second, her wand was in Remus' hands.

'How did you –' she started, amazed.

'Practice,' answered Remus, and Hermione suddenly felt there was a lot more to that answer than his easy grin let on.

Author's Note: Terribly sorry for my absence. Thanks to everyone who left a review; if you have any prying questions you want to know the answer to, don't hesitate to ask them.