Once again, thank you to my wonderful beta for his speedy and incredible work. Dave, you're a gem.
Silver
Monotony
Hermione knew she was being unfair.
Snapping at Fabian wasn't an option but at this point it seemed the only logical conclusion.
He was chatty. Friendly. Pleasant.
Easily distracted. Forgetful and the talking was never-ending.
She liked him. He was a good man but she was not used to this level of conversation anymore. Hermione had found, much to her surprise, that she liked silence. Or sporadic silences at least.
Fabian, on the other hand, seemed to dislike quiet. He had to talk, crack jokes- just constantly speaking, trying to get her to talk and Hermione... she wasn't comfortable with it.
It made her feel socially inept and uncomfortable, because she didn't always know how and what to contribute to the conversation.
Nor did it help that he knew about her. She felt exposed - studied and ridiculed as he waited for the perfect moment to start asking her questions.
The brunette felt awkward in her own skin around him- because of him.
She hadn't expected that. So used to Batty and Sirius, she'd thought she'd recovered somewhat but the ginger's presence only made things clearer.
Hermione hadn't gotten better in the normal sense, she'd just gotten comfortable with those around her.
Strangers were still very much a problem.
And Fabian Prewett, no matter how familiar, was an acquaintance at best.
The more he tried to push for normalcy, the more obvious it became that their situation was anything but.
Their previous interactions had been short, brief and interrupted. Now, they were stuck together for days on end and it was clear that she didn't have much to say to him.
She also had a problem with asking him for help.
It was too weird to ask him so she had to reinvent her pattern and schedule to fit all her previously shared responsibilities.
Whereas before, Sirius would brew as she handled the post, she now had to manage both. After a failed attempt at trying to read the post while brewing, which resulted in burnt potions, she decided that letter reading was best reserved for insomnia fuelled nights.
Potioneering in itself was a problem - she hadn't realized how much she'd come to depend on the Marauder.
On his magic, if she was honest.
With a wave of his wand, she had objects summoned to her. Identical labels magically appeared. Rubbish and dangerous post disappeared and now with Sirius gone, it was blatantly obvious how much magic had once again been a part of her life.
That it'd been his and not hers had reopened a still festering wound.
Fabian had not helped.
She'd done magic. Accidental or instinctive as it may have been, it'd been unpleasant to have him acknowledge it.
'You did magic!' he'd exclaimed. 'Hermione, congratulations!'
His praise had only made her self-aware and self-conscious.
All in all, it'd been an uncomfortable first week.
By the end of the second week she'd been exhausted.
The lack of sleep and the emotional toll taken as the days passed had made the remainder of September unbearable until October rolled around without much fanfare.
All the plush greenery gave way to yellows, oranges and reds as fallen leaves painted the cobblestone beneath her feet. Godric's Hollow had become hauntingly beautiful.
As the weather grew nippy, the days became steadily shorter. Kids' games switched from football to conkers. Light mist began to coat early mornings and late nights while the evenings turned silent with the setting sun.
Days passed and blurred together and a peaceful tranquillity had settled over the village.
Still, her letter remained unanswered.
She had briefly considered sending another, but after much debating Hermione had decided against it. She'd risked more than enough with the first, a second letter would at this point be dangerous.
Her mind raced with endless possibilities, torturing her with alternate scenarios. Challenged only by her future knowledge.
Had it not been for Batty, she would've lost her bloody-ever-loving mind.
'Sirius and Hermione sitting in his tree-'
The brunette shut her eyes, shaking her head. 'Batty, please shut up.'
'-F-U-C-K-I-N-G!'
'Batty!'
The tiny witch stopped mid pause, her mouth wide and eyes twinkling. An innocent look in her eyes that hid the evil within.
'I was just singing,' she answered sweetly.
Hermione pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth threatening to curl. 'Yeah, well. Don't.'
'Boring bitch.'
'Batty.'
'Hermione.'
The brunette looked away from the smiling woman. Her eyes settling back on the letter she'd been reading.
'Why are you still awake? Are we too lovelorn?' she mocked.
Hermione shook her head, all humour gone. 'I couldn't sleep.'
'Obviously. Why?'
Why?
Such a simple question, with too complicated an answer.
As of late, Batty had been asking it a lot.
She didn't answer and from the corner of her eye, she could see the brilliant witch studying her.
'Where's Hooky?'
The powerful historian slouched back on her chair, 'He's back at Potter Hall. Rat's taken a fancy to another Rat, decided to stay behind for the weekend. Told him to give his Rat a rose... seems to be all the rage at the moment.'
The brunette shook her head, dark eyes turning towards the shorter woman. 'When are you going to let that go?'
'Never, ever, under any circumstances, for as long as I live.'
'It was my birthday Batty.'
'He also didn't have to do it.'
That was true and she'd had no counter argument other than her usual-
'I've told you, he was just being nice.'
'Doesn't explain why you spent the night with him.'
'We just talked!' she hissed for the hundredth time, making the other woman laugh.
'Please?! Hermione. It's been sometime since I've played hide the sausage bu-'
Hermione slammed her Muggle pen down, turning in her seat to face the older witch. 'Batty, nothing happened! Gideon was there!'
'A threesome!' She laughed, clapping her hands together. 'Even better. Who's bigger, better and more vocal? I have a feeling Sirius is a grunter. Gideon looks like he's a heavy breather.' Batty turned light green eyes on her, tilting her head. 'You a screamer? Never mind, I'll ask Sirius when I see him.'
'Please shut up,' groaned Hermione, rubbing between her eyes.
Batty sniffed, kicking off her shoes. 'You're boring as shit this late at night.'
'Thank you.'
'You're quite welcome.' A moment of silence and then, 'Okay, but did they lick it befor-'
'Batty!'
Her cheeks were burning and heat raced down her spine. She knew she was bright red and Batty's amusement did her no favours.
The tiny witch raised placating hands.
'Alright, alright,' she said, laughter distorting her words. 'I'll stop. Sorry. I was just making up for lost time. It's been ages love.'
That was true. With her going off to help the Potter's and she with Order work, they hadn't really seen each other.
The younger witch didn't know what Batty was doing or how she was helping but the older woman left early and arrived late. At most, they only saw each other late at night. Their conversations brief and to the point.
Hi.
Alright?
Yeah, you?
Fine. Night love.
It was a small price to pay considering the circumstances.
Hermione nodded, sitting back on the couch, her head lolling to face Batty. 'How is he?'
'Distracted and just as big of an arse as ever.'
The curly haired witch frowned, confused by her answer.
'James is okay too. Healing.'
Hermione groaned, shutting her eyes and turning away. 'Batty...'
'That was the last one, promise.'
A comfortable silence settled over them. The only sound in the room that of Batty's clock.
'Hermione?'
'Hm?' Dark eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred.
'Go on up to bed. It's late.'
Hermione rubbed her eyes, clearing her throat as she sat up. 'I can't. I have to finish a few more letters.'
Batty's voice was gentle and quiet when she spoke again. For some reason, it'd made her feel homesick.
'They can wait love, they're not going anywhere.'
'The writers might.'
The historian had no answer to that, nor did she say anything as Hermione read through another handful of letters.
The sixth letter she came across mentioned an Auror Longbottom and her throat locked as Neville's face swam before her eyes. She pushed it away with ease and that both comforted and frightened her.
'Can you vanish this please?' she asked, raising the letter with two fingers.
A wave of her wand and the post disappeared.
'Did Sirius do that for you?'
Hermione nodded, yawning.
'Nice of him.'
Another nod, another letter, more silence.
She'd been staring at her Muggle pen for several seconds before she caught herself doing it.
'That's it,' she stated. 'I'm off to bed.'
'About time.'
She didn't get up though. Instead, she sat back on her seat far too exhausted to move. The aged cushion perfectly melded around her, relaxing every aching muscle.
'Are you sleeping?'
Hermione licked her lips. 'Not as much as I should.'
'Tomorrow is Saturday, take the weekend off.'
Her initial instinct was to refuse but her tired body and mind begged her to reconsider.
'The war effort won't suffer because you don't brew potions for two days love. Take two days. Relax. Do nothing. Sleep and eat. You've earned them.'
Logically, she knew Batty was right.
Still.
It felt wrong. A bit selfish and uncaring. Something must've shown in her face because-
'Stay home and do more letters then. Sit out on the garden and do the post, just don't go to the shop.'
She opened her mouth to reply and was surprised by the words that left her mouth.
'I'm tired.'
'I'm not surprised. You're taking on way too much Hermione.'
The brunette shook her head. 'I do the least possible-'
Batty interrupted her. 'Do you? You brew all the potions and do the post for those under protective custody while dealing with personal issues. Fucking hell Hermione, you practically considered fighting for the Order - without magic. The only reason you hold the position that you do is because Albus forbade you a higher one. If he hadn't, you'd have willing fought if so ordered.' Batty shook her head. 'Take the damn world off your shoulders love. It's too big of a burden.'
'I could do more,' she murmured and Batty nodded.
'You could. So could I. Or we keep doing what we're doing now.'
'Sit and talk about us doing nothing?'
The older witch stared at her for several seconds. 'Is that what you think we're doing?'
Hermione didn't answer. Batty's tone had successfully confused her.
'You really are daft, you stupid bitch.' The magical historian laughed, shaking her head. 'Hermione- why are you here?'
She shook her head, stumped by the change of topic and Batty's sudden enthusiasm.
'Fucking hell you're hopeless,' laughed the powerful witch. Eyes twinkling like mad, dimples out in full force. 'Hermione, you're here because Albus wants you protected right?'
The young witch nodded slowly and all at once, Batty's chuckles stopped.
'You know something. That's what he said and you have to stay hidden because Voldemort can't know you exist.'
Another nod.
'Which means you're important enough that he'd want you killed or for some other fucked up, shittier reason.'
Brown eyes turned away from the tiny witch. She looked at her hands, fighting the urge to look at the mokeskin pouch sat on the coffee table before her.
It'd never been moved. From that first time she'd set it there, on that first night she'd arrived, she had yet to pick it up.
'If you're hidden it's because it's needed. That you're alive and safe... that's your victory. My job is to watch you and make damn sure you stay breathing and I can sure as hell tell you that Dumbledore insists on you staying that way. The way that old bastard watches over you...' she shook her head, sitting back on her purple chair, 'Trust me, you staying alive is more than enough.'
Her nightmares pushed to the forefront of her mind. Of Muggle-borns staring at her with accusing eyes. Bodies scattered around her, their unseeing gazes focused on her.
'It's not enough. The potions and these letters are the least I can do.'
Batty nodded at the post scattered around her. 'And are they worth you losing sleep or waking up crying because of them?'
Her head shot up. Wide eyes focused on the tiny witch who nodded. 'Thin walls love. I told you from the very beginning. If we can hear baby Stevie from next door, what makes you think I couldn't hear you waking up from nightmares?'
Her cheeks burned and she looked away, ashamed and angry with herself. She hadn't thought- hadn't even considered the possibility that her- Hermione's throat locked.
What else had Batty heard?
Memories of waking up screaming and shaking, of her sitting up, reaching for a non-existent ghost rushed forward.
'What's your point Batty?' she asked, her voice thick.
Batty took her time answering and Hermione's shame grew.
'My point Hermione is this: I've been arriving late for the past two weeks. Every other day, I've found you sitting on the couch, in that same spot. Telly on, drink out, half eaten plate of food as you read letter after letter. The same stressed out look in your damn face and it's steadily gotten worse. You can't do it anymore. Before, you just looked tired and sleep deprived but now you look like the fucking world is dragging you down. Your nightmares have gotten worse and we both know it, because again, thin fucking walls.'
She didn't say anything though every fibre in her being demanded that she defend herself. It was true though. Nothing Batty had said was a lie.
'I'm going to guess here and tell me if I'm wrong, Sirius helped you with this?' An aged hand gestured at the letters.
Hermione nodded and Batty did too at having her suspicion confirmed. 'I thought as much. I assume Fabian or Gideon or whoever is watching you for the day, that they don't help?'
The younger witch shook her head. 'It's not their responsibility.'
'It's not Sirius' either... or yours for that matter.'
'I want to help,' she insisted. Dark eyes boring into light green ones. 'I have to do something Batty. I can't just sit around, doing nothing as people around m-' she swallowed thickly as unshed tears stung her eyes.
For a long time, Batty didn't speak. When she broke the silence, her voice was calm and collected.
'Have you ever heard of the Pavlovsk seed bank in Russia Hermione?'
The brunette paused, caught off guard by yet another unexpected change in topic. She shook her head, eyeing the older woman, wondering where she was going with this.
'I thought so, it's a bit of history not readily known on account of it being Russian,' she waved a spotted hand. 'Anyway, during the second Muggle world war, the city where the seed bank resided was seized. The Germans had barricaded the town I believe and had forbidden anything from entering or leaving. People began to starve and die. The seed bank came under attack from the very townsfolk who lived there. They wanted to eat the seeds, understandable under the conditions but unfortunately for them, scientists had barricaded themselves inside the building long before the city had been shut down.' The tiny woman sat up straighter. 'They'd suspected this would happen you see? A blockade would stop things from coming in, food shortages would occur, starvation and desperation would eventually give way to looting. A seed bank, which sole purpose is to store seeds, grains and tubers, was a natural temptation. So these scientists shut down the building and waited. Eventually people tried to break in, and those scientists defended those damn seeds with their lives. From rats, critters, the starving masses ... and even themselves. They knew the greater picture. War was ravaging the countryside, crops were being lost and in the aftermath of war, those seeds and grains would become priceless and invaluable. So they vowed not to eat them because their purpose was greater than their lives and more important than those banging on the doors... the scientists ate the paste off the wallpaper, their clothes... anything they felt was safe and edible. It didn't help and in the end, twelve scientists died of starvation, in a room full of food... after the war ended, those seeds became crops and saved thousands of lives.' Batty sat back in her seat with a shrug. 'Their inactivity saved lives. Yes, people died and those scientists had the chance to save them but it wasn't worth the risk. Saving a few and risking thousands? Where's the logic in that? Hermione,' the older witch shook her head, white hair glinting in the light, 'your situation may be completely different but the fact remains the same. If you're hidden, it's because you need to stay hidden. Not just for your safety but because in doing so... who knows? You may be saving the future.'
Hermione's eyes shot to the tiny witch who refused to meet her eyes. A vice like grip squeezing her insides.
She swallowed thickly, struggling for words as a thought which she'd never entertained crept up her spine and took root.
Batty knew.
Impossible, her mind countered but the doubt - now turned suspicion- didn't lessen.
The older woman didn't look at her as she stood. 'I'm going to bed love. Have a good night.'
Hermione mumbled something as she began to organise the letters.
'Leave them on my desk, under the War and Peace book. I'll start sorting through them and help you with as many as I can. I'll take a few with me in the morning and hopefully lessen your load since you're too fucking stubborn for your own good.'
Hermione cleared her throat, finally finding her voice. 'You don't have to.'
'I know but I might as well,' she replied. 'Who knows, it might actually help. For all I know, a simple letter could turn the tide of war.'
And then she was gone.
Up the stairs and off to bed as Hermione struggled to understand everything that had been said.
If he could have, Sirius would've vanished away the sun while simultaneously giving it the finger.
There was a dull throb behind his eyes and his mouth tasted fucking foul, made all the worse by a sudden need to vomit.
Hangovers were fun.
A stirring to his left made him painfully aware of his current situation and he groaned. Reluctantly, Sirius opened his eyes and was not at all surprised to find a smiling brunette looking up at him.
His head fell onto the pillow and he groaned as his numb arm demanded he act. A shrug of his shoulder and the bird moved.
'Good morning,' she said, smiling lips and twinkling eyes aimed at him.
The Marauder made a noise, caught somewhere between a grunt and a murmur as he sat up. It may have been a 'morning' but he wasn't sure and he didn't care.
He ran his hands through his hair, pushing away the need to vomit as he searched for his clothes.
'Did you sleep well?' the girl asked to which he nodded.
It was true too. He'd slept like a rock. Something he'd not been able to do in years and while he was grateful, he was also disgusted with himself.
He didn't know her name. Or remember it at least but her face ... he knew that.
Or one just like it anyway.
Dark, bright eyes and lush, chocolate curls. A pair of cupids bow lips marred by a sinful little smile.
She wasn't her but it was damn close. They could've been cousins and when he'd introduced himself last night, he hadn't planned for this to be the end game. Drunk Sirius on the other hand hadn't seemed to get the message.
The more he drank, the less important their differences became. As his vision blurred with drink, the similarities grew more pronounced and he'd had to taste her. Every moan spurned him on and the more he sought his release, the more enthusiastic she'd been.
There'd been nothing intimate about what he'd done to her last night. Simply put, he'd fucked the shit out of her while imagining someone else.
He resolutely refused to acknowledge who that other person was though.
Did- Did you just fucking call me Hermione?!
Sirius stood, pulling on his jeans as he did. Behind him, the girl spoke again and he shut his eyes in exasperation.
'I had fun last night.'
He didn't answer. Really, he'd rather the whole thing hadn't happened because it shouldn't have. It'd all been one huge, shitty mistake that had given him one of the best orgasms of his life as well as a peaceful sleep. And that, if nothing else, indicated the danger of his major fuck up. It couldn't happen again.
Not with girls who looked like-
Who's Hermione, Sirius?
He slammed his eyes shut at the memory of blue, pained eyes staring him down.
Or with Marley.
His gut churned and he rushed to the loo, just making it to the toilet as he emptied its sour contents.
He'd drunk too much. Could, technically, blame the drink for his lapse of judgment in regards to the girl and it wouldn't have been a lie but it wouldn't have excused away his fuck up with Marley.
That had happened when he'd been stone cold sober.
It'd been an accident. An honest bloody mistake that he'd been just as shocked and surprised by. It'd - he hadn't meant for it to happen. He'd been sat in the Potter's garden, watching the fountain and struggling with his thoughts when Marley'd walked up to him.
A conversation had started, he didn't remember what but then they'd started arguing about- about transfiguration? She'd refused to accept his superior knowledge, had actually fucking questioned him about his transfiguration ability and that angry glint in her eyes ... It'd seemed so similar to hers that he hadn't thought. He'd just fucking reacted and next thing he knew Marley was on her knees and he'd shut his eyes and he- he said her name.
H-Hermione.
It'd been a freezing, tsunami of a mood killer.
She'd stood as he shoved his rapidly softening dick back into his jeans and had then proceeded to demand answers. He'd done the natural thing and denied everything while knowing damn well that he was lying. He left her ranting. Didn't look back and then, in the spur of the moment, decided that a drink was in order.
Just as he was about to leave, the girl from last night had walked in with her mate and try as he might, he'd been powerless to resist her flirting glances.
Just a drink, he'd told himself.
She was clever. Witty. Had an answer for every one of his suggestive comments and that she'd not cared to know his name had only made it all the more fun.
No names. It'll be interesting! I'll call you ... Mr Darcy!
She'd laughed and he'd chuckled, pretending to know but not at all caring about her little joke.
More drinking and now here he was, in the girl's bathroom rinsing out his mouth, remembering his utter disgrace.
When he left the loo, he found the bed empty, all his clothes collected into a neat little pile - his wand sat on the top.
He dressed quickly, far too anxious to stick around any longer.
He stepped out of the room, into a cheery living room. All perfectly matched and welcoming, he was startled when the girl appeared and shoved a glass of water and two tablets at him.
The familiar Muggle remedy was taken with muttered thanks.
'You're not much of a talker sober are you?'
He shrugged, still gulping his drink.
'Alright well ... thank you for the enjoyable evening. I had fun.' She smiled at him before giving a little bounce and pointing behind her. 'Oh! I only found one of your drumsticks. I put it on top of your clothes, I'm sorry I couldn't find the other.'
He reached into his back pocket, feeling his wand. He nodded and she chuckled.
'You don't do this often do you?'
He didn't answer as he walked towards the door. The Marauder stopped and turned and for unknown fucking reasons-
'Thank you for having me...' and then. 'I'm sorry. What's your name?'
The girl laughed and the slight guilt he carried faded away.
Dark eyes danced. 'Lizzy,' she answered. 'Lizzy Bennett.'
He nodded at her. 'It was nice meeting you.'
'Likewise.'
There was a strange gleam in her eye and though he shouldn't have asked her about it, he did.
The girl ran her eyes over him before speaking, staring at his crotch a little longer than normal.
'I was just thinking. Whoever this Hermione of yours is, she's one very lucky girl.'
And then he'd been kicked out. His mind racing as he realised how she'd know that name.
He'd said it as- as...
Sirius Apparated away. Didn't bother looking around as he did, the need to get away outweighed all sense.
When he opened his eyes, a rippling curtain of pink greeted him.
Blossom Grove bloomed all year round and Muggle plants were no exception. It was something in the soil, Mrs Potter had said once. Centuries of Potter magic and dragon fertilizer had mixed to create a super healthy environment for any and all plants. It was a sight that took your breath away, especially during winter days when its heat caused the falling snow to melt above your head. It was an oasis in the middle of the harshest winters.
It was also a pain in his arse.
A damn temptation that he'd fought repeatedly and kept fucking failing to beat.
With heavy footsteps, he found himself sat on the old bench, her scent filling his nostrils. He'd smelt her for some time now and it was both a wonderful and shit thing.
He hated it. Hated himself and her for making him need her scent.
Last night had been a mistake. From that very morning, he'd known it was going to be a shit day.
James' spasms had reoccurred overnight and his pained screams had resulted in worry and anger fuelled insomnia. Then when he'd finally stopped, Mrs Potter had cried as Mr Potter held her and his chest had burned from the sight of it.
Breakfast had been tasteless as a pounding behind his eyes demanded sleep that would not come. He'd taken a walk and sat for fuck knew how long in that damn garden watching that sodding fountain until Marley interrupted his mindless wondering.
That's when she'd started and argument and - it'd reminded him of her. He didn't understand why or how but it had. Which was odd, because he and Marley had had similar discussions over the years so there was no logical reason as to why it should have-
He groaned, running his hands through his hair.
Whatever the cause, it'd happened. He'd said the wrong name and then ran off to get pissed and fucked a bird that looked the spit of her. And now here he was. Sat in a centuries old, enchanted bench, drowning in her scent.
It was infuriating and it made him want to punch something.
It'd been three weeks since he'd seen her and for the past week, he'd been visiting this damn bench.
He'd needed room to breathe and without realising it, his feet had brought him here. It'd taken him a while to realise that his smelling her hadn't been a recalled memory.
The second it'd clicked, he'd left and sworn to never return. Yet, for some fucking reason, he kept coming back. He absolutely refused to try and figure out why.
He'd had a good reason to ask for time off.
Mr Potter had found James and nothing else had mattered.
Problem was there hadn't been much for him to do. Really, he'd just been in the way.
Mrs Potter, Batty and Evans pretty much had all angles of James' recovery covered. Mrs Potter and Lily watched him at night while Batty took charge in the day. All he'd been good for was talking. It wasn't much but Mrs Potter swore it was more than enough. He didn't understand how but as long as he was able to talk to his best mate, he didn't really question it.
So, he visited James when he could and avoided 'talking about any unpleasantness' as Mrs Potter had ordered. It'd been odd talking about anything other than the war, especially as there'd been several attacks since Prongs had been found.
Witches and wizards had gone missing over several days. Attacks on Muggles had increased and several murdered children had been found - each new day had begun with terrible news.
After each report had been given and against his will, his thoughts would stray to her.
Her safety was a guarantee, Dumbledore was her guardian after all, but it did nothing to comfort him.
He'd worried after her because he'd been her guard for months, he'd told himself. Naturally, his concern was a product of that. But then he'd fucking smelled her and now he wasn't completely sure if his concern was strictly busi-
Sirius shook his head, refusing to complete that thought.
He stood and without a backwards glance, left the garden.
Hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, neck tucked against his hood to keep the morning chill at bay all the way to Potter Hall.
He took the grand stairs two at a time, taking advantage of Batty and the Potters enjoying their breakfast in the dining room to see James.
The second he stepped into the room, he wished he hadn't.
'Who's Hermione?'
He froze mid step, stormy eyes staring down the redhead.
His mouth fell open and with a pounding heart, searched the room.
'She's not here,' spat Evans.
The amount of relief he felt at those words had been unexpected.
'Who's who?' frowned James, hazel eyes darting between him and the petite witch.
Sirius' throat locked and he swallowed thickly before shaking his head.
'Why?' asked another voice and he nearly flinched.
Sirius shut the door behind him, exposing James' corner library - and Remus.
The werewolf wasn't looking at him though. He was watching Evans, waiting for an answer to his question.
Warning lights flashed off in his brain and heat raced up his spine which increased the second Moony set suspicious eyes on him.
Fuck.
'Well?!'
He bit back a growl, his nails digging into his palms as he turned to the nosy witch.
'Well, what?' he replied with more ease than he felt.
'Who is she?'
All eyes were on him and he fought the urge to swear at her.
'That's none of your business Evans.'
'Like hell it is!' she yelled. 'You weren't the one Marley cried on after what you did!'
His gut clenched and he grimaced before he was able to school his features.
James groaned then, clutching at his rib and the room grew silent. Lily sat back down on her bedside chair, worried eyes focused on the stag animagus.
The Marauder was still pale but he'd quickly regained the weight he'd lost. His muscles were taking their sweet time to heal though.
'I'll go get you your potions,' Evans said, standing. 'Batty brought a new load.'
He avoided her eyes as she stormed past him, he didn't trust himself to stay quiet otherwise. He was too pissed off and the last thing Prongs needed was for him and Evans to have a go at each other.
Then again James was a lying piece of shit.
'You've got five minutes before she comes back,' he said, all signs of pain gone. 'What the fuck is going on?'
Sirius clenched his jaw, eyes focused above James' head.
He'd learned his lesson. He wasn't going to give information where it wasn't needed. Not if it endangered her. He'd promised to protect her. Telling James, he'd quickly realised, had been a mistake. One he wouldn't be repeating.
Without a word, he turned and left the room. He didn't stop when called back and didn't think as he sat on his bed.
Elbows on his knees, head bowed, his hands held back his fringe. The Marauder let loose the frustrated growl he'd been holding back.
Fucking Evans.
He was tired of her shit. Always in his and Marley's business.
Fucking Marley.
Why was she always telling Evans their shit?
Fucking Gran-
Sirius clenched his jaw, shut his eyes and began pacing the room.
Traitorous thoughts threatened to escape his barely held control. A sudden knock rang across the room, startling him. The door revealed Pete, chewing on a chicken leg.
'Alright?' he asked around a mouth full of food.
Sirius nodded, stepping away from the door to renew his pacing.
'Good,' said Pete, still eating.
He grew distracted. Must've because when Pete called him next, he turned and the chicken leg was bare.
'Sorry.'
Sirius frowned. 'Wha-?'
He didn't see it, but he definitely felt the knuckles against his jaw.
He stumbled back a step as the room spun around him.
'What the fuck?!'
'James told me to.' The rat animagus shrugged
He didn't doubt it but he still glared and fought the urge to deck the fucking messenger.
'You didn't have to do it.'
'I know.' Peter smiled as Sirius dabbed at his lips, checking for blood. 'So what'd you do to piss him off?'
He didn't answer, just turned to stare at his large balcony doors.
'That bad huh?'
He pulled at his fags as he stepped outside.
Pete whistled. 'Man, it must be bad. Alright don't tell me but I'd talk to James if I were you. He's in no state to be dealing with your shite.'
A clap on his back and he was left alone.
Guilt spilled over. Everything that'd happened in the last twenty-four hours built up and his chest ached, his gut churned.
Sirius blinked and caught himself. He'd been staring at the village.
It's getting wor-
He turned. Made his way back to James' room and clenched his jaw when Lily refused to let him in.
He'd fallen asleep apparently and Sirius gave her no room to start her shit up again by turning his back on her and walking away.
Remus found him an hour later.
The anger the damn werewolf radiated was enough to fucking floor him.
A dull ache in his chest let him know the full moon was near.
'What about Hermione?'
The dog animagus shook his head. Silver meeting gold.
'It's nothing.'
Remus didn't look away as he took a closer step. His voice low and measured. 'Then why are you scared?'
'I'm not,' he lied.
The werewolf tilted his head, unblinking eyes studying him. 'You're lying.'
He opened his mouth to deny it but he didn't get that far. Remus grabbed him by his sweatshirt and slammed him against the bed post.
'Don't fucking lie!' he yelled, his words more growl than actual vowels. 'I can fucking smell it on you!'
The taller Marauder took a step back, fists clenched. He stared him down and Sirius fought the urge to look away.
'Did you fuck her?'
His mouth fell open as images from last night assaulted him. Marley's suddenly aware eyes looking up at him... Granger looking at him after he'd pushed her off of him.
His eyes slammed shut and just as quickly flew open when he felt Remus grab him again.
Face to face, Sirius could smell blood on Remus' breaths- bloke loved his steaks rare on days before the full moon.
'Did you fuck her?!'
He hadn't and yet, he couldn't deny he wanted to.
This... thing, that he felt for her had gotten worse. Time away from birds he tended to fan- he clenched his jaw and hands. His whole body felt strained from tension.
Distance always helped. Except this time, it hadn't.
Bloody witch popped into his fucking head unexpectedly. The sight of her flushed and panting as she looked at him …
He swallowed thickly, finally finding his voice.
'No, I haven't.'
Remus kept staring, searching for the lie.
'Towards the end, I hardly even spoke to her.'
Which was true. He'd kept his distance, just like he'd promised he would.
Remus broke the silence. His words carefully measured, like he used when trying to solve a problem.
Warning bells went off in his head again.
'The thing with Marley was an accident?'
Sirius licked his lips, nodding.
'And you've not fucked Hermione?'
A shaky nod.
'But you want to.'
It wasn't a question and they both knew it.
Another shake of his head. Shockingly, Remus caught his bullshit.
The werewolf took several steps back, 'You fancy her don't you? You fucking idiot.'
'I don't,' he replied, far too loudly and far too fast.
Sirius ran a shaky hand through his fringe, pushing away all thoughts before they fully formed.
He couldn't deal with them right now.
The fucking war was peaking. James was just beginning to heal. This thing with Gran-
He paced the room, his damn thoughts a tangled mess he couldn't begin to unwind.
With each step, his anxiety changed. Morphed and burned, demanding release.
Everything was a fucking mess.
He'd fucked up. And in more ways than one.
He should've been with James that night.
He should've looked for him.
He shouldn't have fucking told him about her.
Her.
She was the damn reason he couldn't help James.
And now, he couldn't get her out of his bloody-sodding-fucking mind. There was a fucking war going on and he was stressed because of her.
A fucking bird.
Sirius turned and his raised fist slammed into Remus with a satisfying sound of flesh on flesh. He felt the blow but the pain never registered.
They tumbled on the floor. Grunting and swearing, the two Marauders aimed to hurt but neither one of them knowing why.
Several minutes later they separated. Breathing heavily, bleeding and bruised they eyed each other. Relief and tension pouring off of them both.
Sirius licked his bloody lip, watching as Remus wiped his own bloody nose.
His hands and ribs hurt but he could finally think clearly.
'Mate,' he began, his voice thick. 'I fucked up.'
He told him everything.
Maybe he'd needed advice, he didn't know.
The only thing he was sure of was that this thing with Granger had changed and it needed to stop cus fancying the bird you were meant to be protecting was wrong.
He didn't tell Remus about the small part of him that didn't give a fuck.