She hated Welcome Feasts.
She hated Leaving feasts too, but since it was the first day of school, that one was a long way off. In fact, she hated every mandatory feast. Like she had nothing better to do than sit there and be ridiculed by the fucking morons. She sat at the very far end of the table, alone as always, and waited for the Headbastard to finish his stupid speech so she could shovel some food in herself and leave. As if Dementors on the bloody train weren't bad enough, now she had to sit there and watch Weasley eat.
Okay, so she never bothered to look at the other end of the table, so she didn't really have to watch Weasley eat, but knowing that disgusting shitbag was at the table was bad enough. She'd seen him eat in first year and he hadn't improved.
She risked a glance up the table. Weasley still acted like he was the center of attention, like the number one bully in the schoolyard. She wondered if Seamus and Dean ever got sick of pretending like Weasley didn't irritate the shit out of them. She imagined they got sick of doing his homework for him, and the expressions on their faces didn't say good things about their relationship.
She knew Weasley wasn't really to blame for her limp or the fact that her knee ached when it was cold, but he had been all of the reason she'd been in that fucking bathroom in the first place. No it wasn't his fault a fucking mountain troll turned up and used her as batting practice, but the fact did very little to cool her hatred of the shit-mouthed ginger.
The Headbastard finally shut his lying cakehole and the food appeared. She chose chicken for the lean protein, along with broccoli and green beans. She would have liked some long-grain rice and fish, but of course that was not part of the diet in magical Britain. Little wonder ninety percent of the adults were pasty pudgebags. It didn't matter, the elves would fix her something healthy whenever she asked after first day.
She kept her head down and ate quickly. She did not risk another look up the table because the food was out and it would be a horrorshow no matter what. She kind of felt sorry for Neville, as he was sort of the whipping boy for the house, but at the same time he didn't do anything about it, so he brought it on himself.
When she finished her meal, she took her wand from her pocket.
"Nullus. Mixtionis Perfectus. Nonsonus." She cast in quick succession, then rose from the table and left the Great Hall. She had to get to the tower and move all her things before the rest of the girls got at them. She didn't bother to try to be sneaky, that was what magic was for. Her combination of no-sound, no-scent and disillusionment had let her walk straight past Missus Norris before without the cat being any the wiser, so she knew it was good enough for just about anyone else in the castle.
She cancelled her Nonsonus in order to whisper the password to Madam Crassulent - whom everyone called the Fat Lady because why should they have any respect for the one who guards them at all? When she obligingly swung the door open, she re-cast the Nonsonus and walked to her dorm.
She'd had to put up with Lavender and Parvati and even a couple of the older girls during first year, before she'd found her hideyhole. Beginning of the first year they'd not even bothered to couch it in positive terms like Amanda Spinner and Tiffany Hutchins had at primary school. At least they'd had the class to make it seem like they were trying to help Hermione look her best while they made fun of her behind her back. Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Eloise Midgen, and Faye Dunbar - none of them had even bothered to try. They simply saw a girl who was different and pounced on her. They used her as the scapegoat to prove they were alike and avoid getting bullied themselves. She had brought them all together as a group, at the low, low price of Hermione's own dignity and comfort.
Second year they had already been a group and had started with the bully games. They hid her clothes, her shoes, her hairbrush. She kept a few small bars of chocolate to comfort herself with, but those had gone too. Halfway through second year she'd discovered her hideyhole while on a solitary tour of the castle, but most of her things had already gone by that point. A girl named Luna from Ravenclaw had actually brought some of her things back to her toward the end of the year. Hermione had been grateful until she saw the girl's eyes. They had been filled with sympathy, and that was fine, but they were also filled with pity, and that had pissed her off. She didn't need anyone's pity.
She picked up her trunk from next to her bed - the bed she'd been assigned - and shrunk it to the size of a purse. She tucked it under her arm and left the dorm, and with any luck it would be the only time she ever set foot in there this year. Her hideyhole was far superior in that only she was in it, and even if that weren't the case she would still prefer it, as it had access to both the study area and the restricted section of the library. Her hideyhole was bloody perfect as far as she was concerned.
She paused in front of the door to the fourth floor study area.
"Homenum Revelio." She whispered. The spell confirmed there was no-one near who could see the door open and close, so she opened the door and closed it behind her, then locked it.
The study area was like a mini-library unto itself, though she'd already been through its contents and most of the books weren't very interesting or relevant. She thought that at some point it must have been a secondary library for first-years because that's who the books were geared toward.
She stepped in front of the fourth bookcase along the left wall.
"Othello." She whispered, and the bookcase swung silently open. There was a stone archway and corridor beyond. She stepped into the corridor and closed the bookcase door behind her. She pressed the tip of her wand against the solid wood. "New password Oberon." She told it. The tingle in her wand hand told her the password had changed.
The far end of the long and twisting corridor was mostly a solid stone wall. Between five and seven feet up was a two-foot square piece of wood that was actually a painting on the other side, and it swung open. Beneath it was one of the short bookcases in the restricted section.
Halfway down the stone corridor between the study room and the restricted section, part of the wall had caved in. When she had found it, it had been just a terrifying black void beyond a jumble of fallen stone blocks. She'd cast Lumos and revealed an extremely old workshop. It held three worktables, all suffering from extreme old age. The wood table legs had rotted and splintered, and two of them had fallen over and spilled their contents on the floor. Bits of rusted metal that she guessed had once been tools of some kind had lain strewn about the fallen tables.
Shelves had lined the room to a height of six feet, but not only was anything that had been on the shelves just worthless mush - the shelves themselves had rotted and were little better. A few of them had collapsed and dumped their mush onto the floor. To top it all off, the whole room had been covered in inches' worth of dust.
Anyone else would have noted the room and moved on, but she wasn't anyone else. She was Hermione Jean Granger, thank you very much. She cleaned the place out, vanished all the useless detritus, and after a few days of sleeping on the floor while she studied books from the restricted section, she'd managed to conjure herself a bed. She added new bookshelves a few days later, followed by rugs, dressers, a washbasin, mirror, three lovely stained-glass torchieres, and a large, plush loveseat perfect for reading in.
To someone who didn't know it was there, it was just another stretch of stone block wall. To Hermione, it was like the doorway to peace, quiet, and freedom. She tapped her wand on one specific stone block, and a section of the wall seven feet high and four feet wide swung silently inward. She tapped it again once she was inside, and it swung closed just as silently.
"Lumos Omnia." She said, and all three floor lamps lit her space with a warm, cozy light. She took a deep breath and let it out again, then took out her trunk and started to unpack. She realized as she was putting away her clothes that she wore a smile. It was a small smile, but it was there nonetheless. She was safe, she was alone, in her space. It was a welcome thing after she'd had to put up with dinners with her parents. She supposed she loved them, it wasn't like she wanted anything bad to happen to them, after all. They just... they had never been very interested in her life at all. They were more like accomodating landlords, and she an occasional tenant. She didn't know them, nor they her. She felt alone when she was with them, and that was alright. It was a damn sight better than the staring, accusing, invasive eyes in the Great Hall.
She sighed and finished unpacking while she thought about the days and months to come. School would be just brilliant if she were the only one there.
She shoved her closed trunk under the bed to keep it out of the way, and placed Michael's picture on the nightstand where it belonged, where she could see his wavy black hair, deep blue eyes and soft red lips.
"I'll have to see if Colin has another one of you I can buy this year." She told him. "If only things were different, we could live here together."
She changed into her nightwear and slid into bed, then picked up the photo to stare at it for a long moment. The keen ache in her chest made her eyes sting, but she refused to give in to tears anymore. Tears hadn't ever summoned an adult who cared, nor had they provided any kind of defense against a rampaging troll. Tears were useless, just like the adults.
She pressed a long, soft kiss to those ruby red lips, then placed his picture back on the nightstand.
"Nox Omnia." She said, and the lights went out.
Tomorrow was the start of a long, annoying year.
October thirty-first. It wasn't bad enough that all the students were in high spirits and high in general from consuming prodigious amounts of sugar, but no, they had to have potions as their last class before she could get away back to her hideyhole and her books.
She hated Potions class.
She loved potions themselves - loved the incredible variety of effects you could get from a few simple ingredients coupled with precise manipulation, but the fact Snape was there sucked every joy out of the experience. He had learned early on not to call on her in class because she always knew the answer, so for the most part he left her alone. That didn't mean she could enjoy the class. If it wasn't Weasley or one of the Slytherins trying to deliberately mess with her potion, it would be Snape's disgusting stare. The whole school knew what he thought of muggleborns, and he never once bothered to use that word, he used the other one. There were a few students in class who had to deal with his disdain, but as the Official Outcast, it was usually her. She didn't like his eyes on her, either. She could feel his greasy gaze like a coating of oil on her skin. It was never enough to throw her off her brewing of course, but she always went to have a shower afterward.
She finished her potion and filled the standard three vials of it - one for Snape to grade, one to keep in case he gave her a shitty mark on it, and one to keep in her toolkit in case it was needed for something. She wrote her name, the name of the potion, and the date on each of the vials. She shouldered her backpack, and made sure she had everything and that her workstation was clean.
"Nullus. Mixtionis Perfectus. Nonsonus. " She whispered. She left the vial for him to grade on his desk, and to everyone else it simply appeared there as though it had Apparated there on its own.
She cast Silencio on the door so it wouldn't make any noise, and abandoned the classroom. She knew that the rest of her house would be in that classroom for another twenty minutes at least, so she ran flat out to the tower. She had to cancel the Nonsonus to get past the portrait door, but there wasn't anyone in the common room anyway. She showered, dried, and dressed quickly, then reapplied her three spells and opened the portrait door only to find a gleefully grinning, semi-naked man waiting to get in. He dashed through the door, and unable to see, hear, or smell her, he crashed immediately into her and sent her tumbling to her behind.
"What was that?!" His eyes darted around as he scanned the area, and he sniffed the air. Hermione groaned and pulled out her wand to curse the shabby hobo, only to catch a glimpse of him as he darted into the boys' dorms.
She contemplated simply leaving the man to whatever disgusting thing he was up to - hopefully lying in wait to molest Weasley - but sighed when she realized she couldn't. She had let him into the dorm, and that made the situation her responsibility, as irritating as that was.
A faint "HEE HEE!" drifted down from the boys' dorm, and seconds later the hobo ran down the stairs into the common room again, holding Weasley's rat.
"I found you, I found you!" He said ecstatically as he practically danced in place. "Oh Peter you naughty little animagus, I'm going to have such fun with you! You're going to pay for what you've done! Finally! HEE HEE!"
He started to run for the portrait door, but he only got three steps.
"Petrificus totalus." She hit him square in the chest, and he fell flat on his face. The rat kept moving and skidded on its little face before it twisted, rolled, and got to its feet. It looked around for a second, then tried to skitter back to the dorms. She couldn't count how many steps it got, as its feet were too small. "Petrificus totalus."
She hefted her bookbag so that it sat on both shoulders and left her hands free, then picked up the rat by its tail with her left, and waved her wand at the hobo with her right. "Mobilicorpus." The hobo floated along behind her as she went to the portrait door. She didn't have much time before the others returned. She made sure the way was clear before she left the common room, and ran as quickly as she could with her bookbag and fat rat burdens.
She entered the disused classroom near the Armoury on the fourth floor, and dropped the hobo to the floor, then tossed the rat next to him. She quickly locked and sealed the door. "Oblinito."
She cancelled her Nonsonus and spoke to the hobo. "I'm going to release you now," She told him, "I want you to sit in one of these desks and start explaining what you were doing in the Gryffindor dorms. If you do anything except sit at a desk and explain, I'll stun you and let the Aurors sort you out. Finite."
The hobo sat up slowly and rubbed his face. "Getting into a desk now, take it easy, no need for Aurors." He pushed up from the floor and smoothly slid into one of the desks.
"Petrificus Totalus. Stupefy." Hermione hit the rat again just in case, and because it would help him keep in mind the fact that he was at her mercy. After getting a good look at him, she recognized him as Sirius Black, from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Really, there wasn't anyone else it could be, the man looked like an escaped convict, for Merlin's sake. "Get to the story." She demanded, in as authoritative a tone as she could manage.
"Yes yes! Alright, no need for unpleasantness." He held up both hands to placate her. "The rat isn't really a rat. He's an animagus. I was hunting him for giving my friends to Voldemort."
"To what end? Are you going to kill him?"
"Yes."
"That's not very smart."
He sighed. "No, I suppose not. I've a history of rather rash decisions, you know."
"Yes, well, I suppose rash decisions are one of the quickest paths to prison. Now stop insulting my intelligence and tell the whole story from the beginning, and not some half-arsed vague pseudotale."
Sirius smiled a little. "Alright. It's long and hateful, but I suppose I don't have a choice."
"You don't. Adhaerentia." She used the sticking charm to glue him to the seat, just in case he got any ideas.
"Well..." He looked down at the desk. "If we're going to be here a while, might I trouble you for a bit of food?"
"You insulted my intelligence once already. Don't insult my patience as well. Story first, I'll decide if you eat afterward."
He sighed again. "Alright... You're too young to remember the first war, but let me tell you Voldemort and his lickspittles had the populace in a tizzy. Whole ancestral lines up and moved to the continent. People didn't go out at night. Any hint of a black robe or pointy hat and everyone panicked and fled. If he'd lived another month or so the Ministry might have just opened the doors and let him in. He already had half the Ministry workforce under his banner in any case. They used to Imperius random people and make them go home after work and murder their own families.
"We tried to fight the best we could, but it was down to just a few groups of holdouts. James and Lily - my best friends, my real family - Dumbledore convinced them to go into hiding to raise their son. He cast an obscure charm over their house called the Fidelius Charm, designed to take the very existence of a thing and make it a secret from the entire world, save one person. That person was the Secret Keeper, and they could reveal the secret to others."
"That's pretty impressive."
"I thought so as well. James and Lily, they wanted me to be the Secret Keeper, but I was well known as being their friend. Should anyone want to find them, all they had to do was look for me. So I suggested our less public friend Peter Pettigrew, I thought James and Lily would be safer that way, and I could play a prank on Voldemort into the bargain. It seemed like the perfect solution.
"Peter already had his lips glued to Voldemort's arse and none of us knew. He took the secret straight to the evil bastard and invited him in for a spot of murder. He killed James and Lily." Sirius's eyes went glassy and his lips twisted as he tried to stop from crying. He stopped the story and took several deep breaths before he continued.
"I don't know what happened, but when the wards around their place told me there were intruders, I got there as quickly as I could. James and Lily were already dead, but so was Voldemort. Half the house had been blown apart, but somehow, against all reason, little Harry survived. Hagrid was already there when I arrived. He held little Harry in one arm like a mouse in a teacozy. Harry held his hands out to me and called me Pafuh- my nickname was Padfoot, and he couldn't quite pronounce it, you see. He was only fifteen months old." Black's eyes went distant as he relived the memory, and his mouth turned up in an adoring smile that lasted but a second before it vanished.
"I made a stupid, stupid, rash decision to satisfy my need for vengeance, and I went in search of Peter. That little bastard rat right there. I caught him near Charing Cross road, but he had no qualms about killing muggles, unlike me. I didn't think he had it in him to blow up a gas main just to get away. I was horrified at what he'd done, stunned by the casual murder of a dozen or so innocent people. He used the opportunity to hit me with an overpowered cheering charm. He made me laugh while surrounded in dead bodies."
"That's disgusting." She said as she fought to keep her gorge down.
"Yes. That's what the Aurors thought. I was on my knees as I laughed helplessly, and the next thing I knew I woke up in Azkaban. Little Peter had made good his escape, of course."
"The papers say you blew Pettigrew up. All they ever found of him was a finger."
Mister Black barked a single ice cube of laughter. "Examine the rat. Missing a toe, isn't it?"
She levitated the rat to look, and it was in fact missing a toe. So if the rat was in fact Peter Pettigrew... "Facti Sunt Natura." She had never actually cast the spell on an animagus before, since the only one she knew of was McGonagall. She was somewhat satisfied to know she had learned it correctly, as the rat quickly grew and became an unconscious fat little wart of a man whose front teeth made hers seem positively tiny. That was unexpectedly gratifying.
"Yes, yes!! Ha ha!" Sirius slapped the desktop in glee as Peter Pettigrew returned from the dead. She slipped him into a desk seat out of arms' reach of Mister Black. "Thank you, miss!"
"So... clearly the man you went to prison for killing is not dead. Must be why they're so hot to have the Dementors eat you."
"Quite likely. Can't admit mistakes and make things right when it's so much easier and cheaper and safer to just murder me and sweep the whole thing under the rug."
"That was my thinking. So... why should I let you go rather than turn you in and be a hero to the Ministry?"
The grin fell from Black's face. "Uhhh..."
She had no intention of doing so, of course, but it was terribly amusing to see him squirm. She knew if she took him anywhere near any kind of authority figure the Dementors would follow within moments, and they would 'take care of' her as well. Oops sorry, the Dementors went crazy and killed the brave young lady who turned Black in. We feel really bad about it. Predictable shitbags.
"Because you're a nice person and value truth and fairness?" Mister Black said in a plaintive tone.
She had a thought then, and maneuvered Pettigrew's arms so the backs of his hands were flat against the top of the desk. "Adhaerentia. Adhaerentia." She glued his hands in place, then glued the desk to the stone floor. She pulled his sleeves up, and saw the Dark Mark on his left forearm. It writhed slightly under his skin. It gave her the creeps, though she wasn't sure whether that was the tattoo itself or the fact that it meant this person in front of her had murdered and tortured and probably raped.
She had a moment of clarity then, and she realized she was in no way equipped to deal with the situation. She wanted to hand him over and run away and hide and never deal with anything so serious again. This was evil. This... thing... in front of her would rape or kill her if given the chance. The thought made her shiver and she was somewhat horrified to discover she wanted to kill him right then and there. It needed to die, to become a Nonthreat.
'It's just a feeling, Hermione. Get your shit together.' She told herself. 'This is exactly why you study. The more you know the better able you are to defend yourself.'
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then screwed up her determination and searched his pockets. She came up with a few galleons, three chocolate frogs, and two wands. She pushed him from behind until he lifted off the chair enough to check his back pockets, but he didn't have any. She did find a spare wand in a holster at the small of his back though. She checked his ankles for spare wands as well, but only found a mismatched pair of disgustingly smelly socks.
She put all three wands in her bookbag and felt a great deal more relaxed. That's when the solution to the whole transforming into a rat problem presented itself.
She couldn't keep him stunned forever, she had to do something with him. He would wake up on his own in a couple of hours. So how to keep him in one place after he woke up and was able to transform? He was a rat. His rat form was small, and that's how he had escaped in the past. She pointed her own wand at his feet. "Adhaerentia." With his feet glued to the floor and his hands glued to the desk, if he turned into a rat he'd break his elbows backward and rip his hands off. Adhaerentia was such a low-level charm she doubted the ones she'd already cast on him would wear out before the end of term. Take that, evil.
"I'll be back with some clothes and food. Use the time to think about how to get around the kiss on sight order." She told Black.
"Leaving me stuck to the chair?" He asked anxiously.
"Yes. I don't trust you. You'll also need him alive if you want to come out of this still breathing." She didn't bother to wait for a reply, she just left and closed and sealed the door behind her, then cast Silencio on the door to make sure nobody heard him if he started yelling.
The kitchens were bustling when she arrived, same as they always were. She cancelled her Disillusionment and silence, and before she had even put her wand away Lammy appeared in front of her.
"Lammy bes happy to see Miss Hermione again! Lammy can help?"
"Yes, thank you Lammy. I have two questions for you. First, If you don't mind, could I have a few sandwiches and some juice? And second, is there a place for old clothes that people don't wear anymore? I need some old clothes for a... an acquaintance."
Lammy nodded. "Lammy bes back in a moment with food and drink, then we goes to the Come and Go room."
She smiled. "Thank you so much, Lammy."
Lammy popped away and returned a short while later with a small basket.
"Miss Hermione bes holding Lammy's hand and we goes to the Come and Go room now." She held her hand out to Hermione and Hermione took it. She was unprepared for the squeezed sensation as they Apparated. One second they were in the kitchens, the next they were on the seventh floor next to a tapestry of dancing trolls.
"Come and go room has lots of old things, clothes, desks, books, everything." Lammy said as she paced back and forth on the other side of the hallway beside a blank wall. After a moment, a door appeared in the wall. It just faded into existence in the blank wall as she watched it.
"Lammy, that's amazing! Come and go room, I get it!"
Lammy nodded vigorously and opened the door for her. The inside of the room held enormous twenty foot-high piles of furniture and trunks and brooms and statues and paintings and every kind of thing imaginable. She would definitely return there. Who knew what kind of things she could find?
"What kind of clothes Miss Hermione bes looking for?" Lammy asked.
"Boy clothes, about this tall." She held her hand six inches above her own head. "Pants, shirts, shoes, and robes if you can find them."
Lammy nodded and popped away.
Hermione started sifting through the nearest pile of items. She was looking for clothes, she really was. When Lammy popped up next to her later, she had a decent stack of books ready to get back to her hideyhole.
"Lammy finded clothes for Miss Hermione!" She held up armfuls of clothing.
"Thank you Lammy, that was very helpful." She put as many of her stack of books as she could in her bookbag, and folded the clothes Lammy found and put them on top of the rest of the books, then a pair of shoes on top of that. "Could you take me to classroom four F please Lammy?"
Lammy nodded. "Lammy can bes doing that."
"Thank you Lammy for all your help." She picked up the stack of books and clothes, Lammy put her hand on Hermione's arm, and they appeared outside the classroom she'd left Black and Pettigrew in.
"Lammy goes back to kitchens, Miss Hermione. If Miss Hermione needs Lammy, Miss Hermione just bes calling, Lammy will come."
"Aww, thank you so much Lammy, I really appreciate your help. If I need you I will definitely call."
Lammy smiled and disappeared with a soft pop.
Hermione reapplied her disillusionment before she entered the room and closed the door behind her, then set her burden down and sealed the room. She set the basket of sandwiches and juice in front of Black and he didn't even hesitate to grab one and eat.
"Aangyou." He said around a mouthful.
She put the clothes on the desk next to him. "Have you thought of a way to get out of your situation?"
He swallowed and sighed. "I can only see one shot that involves telling anyone and maybe getting off the hook. It's a longshot. It might make everything alright again, and might get me killed. Just getting gone to a different country would leave me poor but very much alive."
"You really need to stop the half answers and vague nonsense. I can and will just leave you here, you know." Typical fucking adult, thinking they could hide information from her and then claim it's for her own good or some other patronizing bullshit. They just didn't want to speak the whole truth because they were embarrassed. Fucking insulting.
He finished that sandwich and swallowed his mouthful. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. It's a bad habit, I know. I'm full of them. I am truly grateful that you listened and chose to help me, really. The longshot is turning myself in to the head of the Dee-Emm-Ell-Eee. The Prophet said the head of the DMLE is Amelia Bones. I was good friends with her older brother Edgar, and Amelia and I dated a few times before all that unfortunate mess and going to Azkaban without a trial. I might be able to trust her, but it's been twelve years. She may hate me by now, I don't know."
Hermione rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn't see her. Was she the only one in the castle with half a brain?
"You don't need to turn yourself in at all - not immediately, at any rate. You have him. If Amelia is the head of the DMLE and she's gifted a dead man who is very much alive, that will cause an investigation, and if she does half her job she'll find out you were imprisoned without a trial. That's not to say I believe or disbelieve you, of course. You could be feeding me bullshit this whole time and waiting for a chance to escape or worse. The only reason I'm even here talking to you is I know you don't have a wand, and I have four. That, and on the off-chance you're not lying I would rather see justice than corruption win. Your story was somewhat corroborated by the existence of Pettigrew as a rat animagus, so that also bought you some benefit of a doubt."
Sirius wore a grin around his sandwich-crumb infested mouth. "Bloody formidable witch, you are. I like you."
"You're the only one." She said flatly. "Flattery is more likely to get you punched than anything else."
His smile disappeared. "Right. Sorry." He took a deep breath. "I wonder if I might impose on you just a little further? It's just information. I'm desperate for news about my Godson, little Harry. I half-expected to find him here as he would be thirteen this year. Would you happen to know if Harry Potter is a student here?" His eyes held a barely restrained hope, a fear so gentle it cut her to the quick, and she was certain that at least in his asking about the boy he was absolutely genuine.
It was also very unfortunate. She'd read about Harry Potter in Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts. She knew very well, just like everyone else, that Harry Potter was dead.
"I'm sorry, Mister Black. Harry Potter was beaten to death by his muggle relative on November second, Nineteen-Eighty-One."
His eyes slowly widened as his mouth slowly twisted to hold back the pain. "No... no." He whispered. "All this time and I failed him from the beginning..." Tears dripped from his eyes and he didn't bother to try to hide them. "He was just a beautiful little baby..."
She understood why he had run off to find Peter then. Thinking about some arsehole beating a baby to death made her blood boil. The only question was, had he learned his lesson after running off after vengeance the first time?
"Where can I find his muggle relative?" Black asked in a hiss.
Apparently not. All emotion, no thought. "He died the same day, found dead in a Scotland Yard holding cell."
He slammed his fist down on the top of the desk once, and then a second time after a pause. She thought he'd probably hurt himself at that point.
"Nothing for me..." He whispered to himself, "Nothing."
Hermione dipped into her bookbag and pulled out parchment, quill, and ink. "Yes well, don't give up just yet, a penniless fugitive has little recourse to revenge. Get yourself exonerated and you can do what you like. Here." She put the parchment, ink, and quill on the desk in front of him. "Write a letter to Amelia Bones and ask her to come here immediately. She will of course show up with a troop of Aurors, but you don't have to be here, you can just let them find evil ratface here. I'll go give the letter to her niece Susan, she's in my year. That's the extent of what I'm willing to do for you. You're on your own after that. I don't really know why I'm even willing to do that, honestly. I should have just given you to The Establishment and kept my own peace and quiet."
Black wiped his face on his foream. He picked up the quill, inked it, and began scribbling on the parchment, then stopped. "Don't think because I'm currently in a homicidal despair that I don't appreciate your efforts, Miss Witch. If I do get exonerated, you'll have a powerful ally, whoever you are."
Hermione snorted. "Thank you for the sentiment, Mister Black, but no amount of money or power can give me what I want, and even if it could l wouldn't take it. Finish your letter and I'll deliver it to Missus Bones's niece. Then you're on your own."
He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded once in her general direction. He resumed scribbling on the parchment for several moments, then put the quill down and picked up the letter and blew on it gently to dry the ink. When it was dry, he put it on the desk next to him. She picked it up and moved out of his arms' reach to use another desk to fold the letter.
"Quia Non Apertum Amelia Bones." She whispered, and touched her wand to the letter. It flattened and sealed itself, and she wrote 'Amelia Bones' on the front.
She unsealed the door, opened it a crack, and took a cautious look into the hallway. "Homenum Revelio."
Nobody anywhere near.
She put her stack of books in the hall, then left the letter on top of them. She retrieved the basket to give back to Lammy, but left the sandwiches and juice on a desk so Black could finish. After she made sure all signs of her involvement had been eliminated, she paused at the door before she left.
"If you follow me out of this room I'll assume you mean me harm and act appropriately." She informed him. "That isn't to say don't leave. Just don't follow me out."
"Understood." He said hollowly. "I thank you for your gracious assistance."
She cast Finite on him, closed the door and put the letter in a pocket in her robes. She heaved her bookbag onto her back and picked up her stack of books. She made sure no-one was watching, then walked quickly and quietly back to her hideyhole.
"I'm fine, Auntie, really. I'm just a little freaked out by it, that's all. I'm just happy it was another girl and not some boy. I don't know if I could have handled that."
Amelia looked from her niece, perched in her office chair on the other side of her desk, to the letter she had brought with her. She didn't recognize the writing on the front.
"If you're sure you're alright."
Susan smiled back at her. "I am, Auntie, I promise. Not every day you get stuffed into a bathroom stall and handed a letter by an invisible girl, but aside from it being a weird afternoon everything is totally normal."
"DId you recognize her voice at all?"
"No. I can honestly say I've never heard her voice before in my life. She shoved me into the stall, pressed the letter against my chest and said 'Get this to Amelia Bones immediately, it's important. Don't trust the school owls either, the Headbastard intercepts anything you send with a school owl. Use the floo. Better if you go talk to her directly.' Then there were footsteps heading out of the bathroom. That's it."
Amelia frowned. Was Dumbledore actually intercepting mail? She would have to look into that.
"Alright. Thank you Susan, I believe you of course. The primary concern in my life is your safety and happiness, and you know I have to ask questions in any case."
Susan smiled back at her and nodded. "I know, Auntie. I love you too."
That made her smile despite herself. She was growing up so fast. "Right then, let's see what this has to say."
She pulled her wand out and cast the customary series of detections on it. No curses, hexes, jinxes, tracking charms, compulsions, or portkeys showed up. It looked like the only thing on the letter was the seal.
She picked the letter up, and it simply fell open. It had been sealed tightly when Susan put it on her desk, so it must have been keyed to open only for her. Nice bit of magic, that.
She opened it fully and set her eyes to the writing within.
Dear Amelia,
I know I'm probably the last wizard you want to hear from, especially when I can't even take you to dinner first, but I need to beg for your help. I've found Peter Pettigrew, he's alive and he's here at Hogwarts with me. I haven't killed him even though every fiber of my being is screaming at me to do so.
I was never given a trial, and any digging you do into my trial will tell you that. Fudge has Dementors surrounding Hogwarts with orders to kiss me on sight because he'd rather kill me and sweep the whole mess under the rug and keep his popularity points than correct a mistake. Please come collect Peter yourself, I don't trust anyone else.
I'm dreadfully sorry to have to ask this of you, but I will make it up to you once I'm cleared and free, I promise. He'll be waiting for you in 4F near the Armoury.
Equal parts thanks and apologies,
Sirius Black.
She read it twice more, then folded it and stuffed into one of her pockets.
"Susan, use my floo and go back to the Manor please. Hogwarts is going to be dangerous for the next little while and I don't want you anywhere near. Sirius Black is inside Hogwarts."
"What?!" She sat forward in her chair, aghast.
"I'm going to Hogwarts right now, and I want you to go to the Manor. I'll get you back to school as soon as it's safe."
"Alright Auntie. Be safe." Susan got up and came around her desk to hug her before going to the floo.
"Hopefully it won't be long." She said. Susan threw the powder into the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green.
Amelia was out of her chair and had the door to her office yanked open in one second flat. "Cass, get me Dresden and Eldridge please, and the new kid, the one with the hair. Tonks, I think."
"Yes Ma'am, right away."
She strapped her spare wand to her ankle, packed her dictaquill and parchment, made sure her bottle of veritaserum was full, and put two sets of manacles on her desk. No sooner had she finished than Tonks knocked on her half-open door.
"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" She asked nervously.
"Yes. Tonks, right?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. I am on my way to attempt to take Sirius Black into custody, and I thought it might be a good idea to review his previous trial to see what kind of questions were asked. I'd like to task you with bringing me the record of that trial. Just bring it in here and leave it on the desk if I'm not back yet."
Tonks nodded. "Yes ma'am." She turned and left, and passed Dresden and Eldridge on their way in.
"For the love of Nimue." Minerva sighed. Some days it was all she could do to hold back tears while grading. She dropped Mister Weasley's latest offering on the desk, rubbed her hand over her forehead and contemplated a before-dinner dram.
"Transfingerayshun is thu art uv transfingerin." She quoted. "Maybe Argus is right after all..."
A flash of green roused her from despair and focused her attention on the fireplace. Amelia Bones's face appeared.
"Minerva, are you in?" She asked.
"Yes Amelia, what can I do for you?" She answered as she stood and walked around the desk to be visible.
"Would you mind if I came through? Myself and two Aurors."
"No, of course come through." The floo flared and Amelia stepped out, followed by two more flashes and two more Aurors. "What's the occasion?" She asked.
"I got a tip where to find Black, so we're on our way there. He's in the castle."
"Goodness, is he really?" Minerva frowned.
"You're welcome to come along Minerva, so long as you don't try to interfere."
"I really should tell Albus -"
"I don't want Albus to know. I want Black in my custody quickly and quietly. You tell Albus and Albus tells Fudge, then everyone shows up and somehow Black ends up dead before I can question him. No, come along if you must, but no Dumbledore, no Fudge."
Minerva felt her lips purse in consternation, but she had to agree. "Very well. Have you a destination in mind?"
"Tip said fourth floor near the Armoury. Let's go."
The door was locked when they arrived, so Eldridge pointed her wand at it and it unlocked. Dresden and Eldridge immediately flanked the door. Minerva was carefully situated far to the side near the wall behind Amelia in order to avoid any possible spellfire that might come from opening the door.
Dresden threw open the door and stepped back out of sight, but no spellfire came. Amelia risked a peek inside the room; there was only one person in the room and he was unconscious.
"Homenum Revelio." She cast, and confirmed what her eyes told her. "All clear." She told her backup.
"That's Peter Pettigrew!" Minerva gasped when she entered the room behind them.
Eldridge's and Dresden's heads snapped up and looked at Amelia.
"He's supposed to be dead." Eldridge said.
"Great. I just love mysteries." Ameila growled. "Especially when they involve marked Death Eaters."
Dresden flicked his wand at Pettigrew, and instead of him waking up as per his Rennervate, a message sprang into existence in the air over Pettigrew's head.
To Whom It May Concern: Peter Pettigrew is a Rat animagus. I have glued his feet to the floor and his forearms to the desk to prevent his transformation. Use Caution.
"Interesting. Can you confirm that, Minerva?" Amelia asked.
She took out her wand and cast silently at Pettigrew. To her eyes, Pettigrew was overlaid with the image of a common brown rat within his chest.
She nodded. "Rat animagus, just as it says."
"Right, so we leave him glued down then?" Dresden asked.
"Seems the most expedient thing to do." Amelia agreed. "Wake him so we can get some veritaserum into him. She pulled parchment and a dictaquill from her waistpouch and enlarged them to normal size. She set them down on one of the desks and cleared her throat. "Test test test." She said, and the dictaquill scrabbled her words onto the page.
Dresden fired another Rennervate at Pettigrew, and this one seemed to work. Pettigrew snorted as he woke, and his eyes shot wide open when he saw where he was and that he was surrounded by Aurors. His sleeves were both rolled up to his elbows, and the backs of his hands were glued to the table. His Dark Mark was on display to everyone in the room.
Icy fingers of fear began to caress his ribs, and stoked a rising panic.
"Don't transform." Amelia told him. "You'll rip yourself apart. You're glued to the desk and the floor."
His breath started to come faster as panic creeped up his neck.
Eldridge flicked her wand at him, and he relaxed. He was still anxious and unhappy, but much more calm.
"Mister Pettigrew." Amelia said in a commanding tone, "You are in violation of statute sixty-one J, subsection two, paragraph four - the requirement to notify the authorities of a wrongful proclamation of death. As such, you will be questioned under veritaserum. Do you have any questions before we begin?"
"Umm..." He looked around, "Could you not?"
"Let the record show that Peter Pettigrew requested that he not be questioned. Let the record further show that he bears the Dark Mark on his left inner forearm. Auror Dresden, if you would assist Mister Pettigrew in accepting his dose of veritaserum please?"
Dresden sighed. "Yes ma'am." He grumbled. He reached down Pettigrew's face from above and hooked two fingers into his nostrils and yanked upward. Pettigrew's mouth came open, and he hooked two fingers over his lower teeth and pulled down enough to keep his mouth wide open.
Amelia dripped three drops of veritaserum into Pettigrew's mouth, and Dresden waited a moment until the potion had been absorbed before he released his hold on Pettigrew's face.
Amelia started the questioning with why he hadn't come forward to refute his declaration of death, then flipped to the events of Halloween Nineteen-Eighty-One, his subsequent encounter with Sirius Black and how and why he went into hiding. She then backtracked and asked him when he had received his Dark Mark and what he'd done to earn it, then flipped forward again to ask about being the Potters' Secret Keeper and whether or not Sirius Black ever had been. After that, she asked him to name every last Death Eater, marked or not, that he knew about. That took a long time and made both Dresden and Eldridge blanch more than once. It turned out they worked with several, and each had dated at least one. Dresden was in the process of dating his third. After recording all the names he knew, she asked him why he was still in hiding, what he was doing at Hogwarts, and what his plans were.
It turned out Peter Pettigrew was hiding from everyone, including Voldemort, and desperately wanted to never receive orders again. He liked safety and lots of free food.
Minerva thought he'd chosen well, since it seemed Ronald Weasley wanted to stay at Hogwarts forever without graduating as well.
'Poor Professor Flitwick.' She thought to herself. 'Up there day after day, struggling to go slowly enough for these idiots.' They were supposedly learning the Cheering Charm that morning, but the class was chaotic failure. Daphne Greengrass on the far side of the room completed the spell perfectly the first time, true to form. She'd watched Daphne's performance in classes, Hermione knew she read and practiced ahead, but she didn't take it as far as she could. In contrast, Draco Malfoy practically screamed "Beatitudinem!" and slashed his wand at Crabbe's face as though he tried to beat him into happiness with it. Weasley used his wand as a miniature broom to illustrate quidditch plays to Finnegan.
She waited until the Professor's attention was focused elsewhere, and conjured three paper cranes on her desk, which she then used as practice for her Reductor curse. She could do the curse, she knew that because she had practiced by the lake when nobody was around. It was difficult to keep the amount of power she put into the curse minimal, so she practiced only putting enough power into it to destroy a single paper crane. First it was too little, and the crane merely fell over. She waited patiently for the professor to be occupied elsewhere again, and tried with just a hair more power. Satisfyingly, the crane vanished in a puff of parchment dust. She smiled quietly to herself and repeated the curse at the next crane, and the third. She exhaled and blew the remnants of them on the floor.
"Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick's high, lilting voice cut through the class chatter. "Would you be so kind as to demonstrate the Cheering Charm on me?"
She felt her cheeks heat. Everything in the classroom stopped and every single eye was on her. She could feel their ridicule as though their thoughts were carried through sight. 'What's the bushy beaver done now?' They thought. Or 'Great, now we have to listen to the insufferable know-it-all.' Flitwick knew she hated being called on in class. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Not to be trusted. None of them could be trusted. None.
Just get through it, Granger. She admonished herself. You can come apart later when you're safe.
She took a deep breath and focused, then flicked her wand at Flitwick. "Beatitudinem." She whispered.
Flitwick at once wrapped his arms around himself and bent over as huge guffaws leapt from his throat. She cancelled it after three seconds.
"Thank you, Miss Granger." He said as he straightened and wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of a finger. "Please stay behind after class."
Stay behind? Stay BEHIND?!? She chewed on her lip as she went through every possible thing he could want in her head. Thankfully he chose to end the class then. She left her bookbag in her chair and walked up to the front of the class.
"Miss Granger, are you aware you have the best marks in the entire school and have for the last two years?"
Was she aware? Of course she was aware. "Yes Professor." She said softly.
"Frankly I was shocked to see you not paying attention in class, but that was before I saw you practicing a Reductor curse. You are aware that's sixth year material?"
"Yes Professor." In the same small voice. What was his point? Where was he going with this?
"On a personal note, I continue to be deeply saddened you were not sorted into Ravenclaw, Miss Granger."
"If I were sorted today I likely would be, Professor." Fuck Gryffindor and its proud, lazy, entitled arseholes.
Flitwick sighed. "I asked you to stay behind because one of my Ravenclaws needs help, Miss Granger. He hasn't asked for it, but it's my duty as Head of House to mind my students' efforts as well as their wellbeing. I would like to ask you to tutor Mister Corner Sunday afternoons, if it isn't too much of an imposition."
Her first instinct was to say "NO." and run away. The LAST thing she wanted was to do exactly what the stupid prigs made fun of her for... but it was Michael. She could see his serious face, those gorgeous blue eyes. He'd bite his lip as he struggled to understand, then beam that smile at her when he did. He'd be grateful for her help. She wouldn't push too hard, she'd have to let him catch up before they learned new things. He'd brush her hand first as they studied in the library, and they'd share a quiet, embarrassed smile. She'd brush up against him as they walked one day, then when he was caught up and didn't need her anymore, he'd trap her between his arms against the library shelves and tell her he didn't want to stop learning from her. He'd inch his face closer to hers, so deliciously slowly...
"Miss Granger?"
She could feel his soft lips on hers as her bits began to tingle. "Yes." She whispered, she would succumb to those lips, his taut body pressed against hers...
"Excellent, thank you Miss Granger. I'll let him know he is to be in the library Sunday afternoon at one. That is your preferred place of study, yes?"
Wait, what!? She hadn't agreed to anything! Oh shit...
'This is your chance!' A tiny, beaten-down part of her brain told her. You can do it! You've survived your parents and public school and all the arseholes everywhere, and you're still top of the school. Be your awesome self, and you can do it!
Her face went red, she was sure of it. She nodded to Flitwick. "Sunday at one."
"Thank you, Miss Granger." He said.
She had to stop herself from running back to her seat as panic made her nerves tingle. Stupid! Stupid! She lashed herself. She would get tongue-tied and start crying or something equally stupid and embarrassing. He would laugh at her just like everyone else.
But what if he didn't?
She worried at her lower lip as she reached over to pick her bookbag up from her seat... only to find it wasn't there.
She frowned and went back to the teacher's desk, but it wasn't there either. She didn't think she'd set it down there while talking to him and then forgotten it. No, she was sure she'd left it at her seat.
She'd left it unattended.
She raced out of the classroom and along the hall, first one way to the end, then back again when she didn't find it. She searched every room on that floor, then started a methodical room-by-room search of each lower floor. Luckily she didn't have to start searching the dorms of other houses. She found it two hours later in the courtyard near the transfiguration classroom.
The crowd that had gathered slowly parted when she arrived, and she saw her bookbag against the wall, beneath a very well-drawn likeness of her face, four feet high. It had a frizzled brown cloud around her face that stuck straight out from her head like she had fifty thousand volts running through her. Birds nested on top of it. Her eyes were crossed and squinty, and her two front teeth stuck out of her mouth, long and thick enough to obscure her chin.
Draco Malfoy stood in a group that openly pointed and laughed at the caricature, and obviously didn't care who saw him do so. Most of the rest of the crowd had the grace to immediately leave when she arrived, but there were still dozens of students milling about.
"It's only a shame I've no idea who the brilliant artist is," Malfoy half-shouted, "I'd commission one twenty feet tall for the front gates!" He and his little group of sycophants all laughed at her. "Best picture of a mudblood I've ever seen!"
"Sure it's not a photograph, Draco?" Parkinson slid her hand across Draco's chest while she sneered at Hermione.
"You know Pansy, I think urine the right!" They all laughed again, exaggeratedly, with finger pointing.
Then she caught a whiff of her bookbag and understood.
Someone - or several someones - had actually pissed in her bookbag. The stench of it was thick, and she could see it running in the grooves of the flagstones.
"Urine the right!" Malfoy repeated himself to more laughter.
Hermione took her wand out and levitated the books out of it. She left them in the air off to the side as she burned the bookbag to ash in seconds. She paused to make sure everyone around her was watching.
She summoned every scrap of magic she could spare, and screamed at her 'portrait'.
"REDUCTO!"
Her entire portrait and half the wall behind it exploded into fine, razor-sharp stone shrapnel and bathed the assembled crowd.
She knew it was coming, and raised a shield. When the explosion was over, she calmly walked back into the castle as her piss-stained books - most of them from the library - floated along behind her. From the moans and groans she left in her wake, she thought there might be competition for a bed in the hospital wing later. At least they would think once before assuming they could denigrate her with impunity.
Even after - or maybe especially after - standing up to them, she barely reached the fourth floor before her hands started to shake and her knee went weak. She dropped the soiled books in the classroom she'd stored Pettigrew in, then disillusioned herself and made a beeline for her hideyhole.
Tears made wet spots on her robes by the time she opened the secret bookcase, and she could feel her mouth twisting as she opened her secret door. It was all she could do to close the door again and limp to the bed before she collapsed on top of it and sobbed from the bottom of her own personal hell.
She was glad she didn't have any other classes after charms. After she had cried herself out she had fallen asleep, only to be woken by the announcement of the mandatory-attendance dinner. Admittedly, she did feel a little better for having slept, though no amount of sleep could comfort the raw hurt and rage that boiled inside her.
The mandatory Feast was for "important announcements", she would bet her book collection on it. As if she didn't know everything the Headbastard was going to say already.
He'd raise his arms for dramatic effect, wait for quiet and attention for two beats, then use his grandfatherly tone. 'Thankfully the presence of the Dementors that have been posted about the grounds has been removed, and they will no longer darken our skies...' blah blah blah. He would drink in the applause and attention... As though he had a single fucking thing to do with solving the issue.
What did Hermione Granger get for ending the threat against the school?
"Hey Granger, what's wrong? You look a little yellow!" Weasley called from the other end of the table. He laughed and pointed at her. His cronies laughed as well, but she noticed his twin brothers gave each other concerned looks.
She wasn't looking forward to cleaning those books. It would take a long, tedious time to remove the urine from each page. She was tempted to save it all up and put it in Weasley's pumpkin juice.
She would have to get herself another bookbag as well - probably when she went home for Christmas. Unless... She had a brainwave, and sat upright in her seat.
The Come and Go room! She could check the Lost and Never Found. Maybe there was a bookbag she could use in the meantime in there. She went over the things she'd seen in there in her head, but sadly she didn't recall seeing any bookbags. She was so consumed by her thoughts, she didn't notice the blonde girl sit gently next to her.
"What did Ronald mean by that?" She asked. Luna's normal, deliberately uncaring tone of voice had a hard edge to it.
She felt her eyes sting as she looked into Luna's concerned face, and her vision went watery. She sniffed and bit her lips and shook her head. She couldn't talk about it, even if Luna might be the one person in the castle who was sympathetic.
She put her head down on her arms and breathed deeply so that on-one could see her get her tears under control. Luna's hand stroked her shoulder for a moment, and that was just strange. She wasn't really sure what to make of that. Was the girl attempting to comfort her? If so, why? She'd said exactly one word to Luna in two years. They weren't friends. She didn't have any friends.
Ironically, Luna's attempt at... whatever it was did more to dry her tears than it might have if they were friends. Trying to work out what had happened and why had put her bookbag completely out of her mind.
She snuck a peek at Luna, and she still sat next to her, but Luna glared at Weasley. Footsteps on her far side announced her Head of House, McGonagall. That would be her punishment for being victimized.
"Miss Granger, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after dinner."
Right on schedule.
She just nodded once at McGonagall without looking at her. She didn't deserve anything else. She was as trustworthy as a bridge made of tissue paper, and she'd proven it over and over again. She and the Headbastard were entirely responsible for curing her of her trust in authority figures.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the Headbastard stood up at his podium and raised his arms. Two seconds later, when quiet descended on the Great Hall, he began to speak. "Some of you will be gladdened to know that the Dementors which have darkened our skies these past months have been recalled to Azkaban." Applause and cheers surged from the students, and he smiled benignly while he soaked in it. She would have to put up with that shit after dinner too. "Additionally, a reward has been offered for information regarding the whereabouts of Sirius Black."
She bit back a chuckle. Apparently Black had half a brain in his head after all and had buggered off to wait and see if he was offered a trial.
The Headbastard sat back down on his gilded throne, and the food appeared. Hermione picked at a few things but didn't bother to eat a lot. Every time she was forced to visit the Headbastard she felt like throwing up anyway. It would probably be a month with Filch this time.
Sunday dawned cold, grey and dingy, just like every other November day in Scotland. Hermione actually slept until half-seven, a whole hour later than normal. She was unused to the physical exertion cleaning the trophy room by hand needed, and she made a mental note to try to work some kind of exercise into her day.
She had moved her bookshelves around inside her hideyhole and made room for a makeshift shower that consisted of a small round tub on the floor, and an old sink attached to the wall six feet up via sticking charm. She'd conjured a hand-held shower nozzle and attached it to the underside of the sink drain, with a hook on the side of the sink for the showerhead to rest in when she wasn't using it. She'd half-filled the sink with water, then put a permanent refilling charm on it as well as a permanent warming charm. It wasn't quite as hot as she'd like the water, not quite steaming, but it did the job and it was private. That was worth a lot more.
She showered and dressed before she Vanished the bathwater. She reviewed the majority of her third-year notes before lunch, then visited the kitchens under her usual nondetection spells. Lammy made her a lovely vegetable soup, and she did her best to eat it, but only managed half even with Lammy encouraging her.
She arrived at precisely twelve-thirty, and chose a table in the library as far away from everything as possible. Only when she saw him approach did she realize her choice of table could be construed as wanting to be alone with him. She did want to be alone with him, of course, but she hadn't meant it to be while she was tutoring him. Damn! He hadn't even sat down and she was dangerously close to hyperventilation.
He came over to her table and sat down opposite her. His skin was even more pale than in his picture, and it only made his eyes more blue and his lips more red. The butterflies in her stomach crashed together and fused into a ball of heat that trickled downward into her knickers. She had to focus on just breathing and looked down at the table in order to calm down enough to speak.
"What... What was it you wanted help with?" She asked. Even to her own ears, her voice came out low and breathy.
"Arithmancy." He said flatly. She didn't hear it that way, of course. Rainbows and unicorns when he spoke. His very slight Irish accent made her stomach dance.
She flipped to her third-year Arithmancy notes, and pulled open the textbook. "Anything specific?"
"Yes, actually. I need to know Wilkes Arrays, specifically how they relate to intent-based Wards."
She turned the page to where she had that particular Wilkes Array already drawn out. "It's different from the standard array because there needs to be input on the outside of the Wards as well as the inside -"
"Actually," He interrupted, "I don't have a lot of time today, would you mind just copying that so I can study it later? I'm sort of booked until curfew."
That was both a disappointment and a relief.
She took her wand out and copied the page for him, then handed him the copy.
"Great, thanks." He smiled at her, and his white teeth made her heart thump like a power hammer. He smiled at her. At her.
"No problem," She squeaked.
He jogged out of the library, but he might as well have been moving in slow motion. The air caught his robes just so, his silky hair bounced and flounced wildly like a black mane, and his lean form etched itself into her memory.
Hermione applied her three nondetections and ran full tilt back to her hideyhole.
She dropped her satchel by the loveseat and stripped off her robes. Skirt up, knickers off, she flopped onto the bed and both hands went to work on the searing ball of fire that lay between her legs. She knew herself well enough to hit the sensitive spots, but it never seemed to satisfy the ache to be filled. Even as she pinched and kneaded and rubbed, she was aware of that deep hunger, that hollow feeling. It subsided mostly after she'd had an orgasm, but it didn't really go away until the sex in her head did.
It was a wonderful curse, those new feelings. On the one hand they were incredibly annoying and got in the way of just about everything. Part of her longed for the days before them, when her body didn't do things on its own or make her feel things she didn't want to. On the other hand, they felt so good. Before puberty, she couldn't have imagined the kind of fireworks that went off in her brain and all over her body.
Thoughts of him pushing himself into her drove her over the edge. Thoughts of him pushing her up against the bookshelves in the library and taking her lips with his stoked her heat again and made her whine as her already-sensitive bits demanded more attention.
Finally, after she'd punished her groin for more than half an hour, she collapsed back to her mattress and panted. She lay there and felt the air currents caressing her swollen, naked sex, and that part of her was... if not satisfied, then appeased for the time being.
The aching hollowness shifted back into her chest where it usually lived.
Sundays were her new favourite day. Michael never had much time on Sundays, so they got right to studying when he arrived at their table. Their third Sunday, he'd brought her a sugar quill from Honeydukes. It had been a Hogsmeade weekend, and he had volunteered to help at Tomes and Scrolls that Saturday, but he'd thought to nip into Honeydukes just for her. She completely understood that he had to go, he was so busy. She volunteered to copy out the relevant notes and send them to him, it was the least she could do to repay his thoughtfulness.
Their fifth Sunday, he had volunteered to help Hagrid with some sick crups, and he had only come back into the castle to keep his date with her. He'd brought her some flowers that he'd seen growing near the forest because they reminded him of her. He couldn't ask her to copy her notes again though, so he would have to try to muddle through best he could on his own. He didn't want to be a burden.
She gave him a copy of her notes and wrote out the explanation for him, and asked Lammy take it directly to his dorm.
The next Sunday was their last of the term, they would board the train Monday morning for Christmas break. She enlisted Lammy's help in searching the Come and Go room for a suitable Christmas gift for Michael. It took them hours, but she found a beautiful leather satchel embroidered with the Ravenclaw House crest, and accented with its colours.
She hugged Lammy and thanked her for her help. She was so excited that night it took ages to get to sleep.
The days swept by as days do, until finally Sunday rolled around. Hermione sat at their table waiting for Michael, her feet swung back and forth and a smile graced her lips. The hollow feeling in her chest had shrunk day by day and left a strange, bubbly sort of feeling in its wake.
Michael swept into the library, walking quickly, and didn't even sit down. He stood beside her and leaned forward onto the table on his elbows.
"Sorry I can't stay. I don't actually need anything this week, you've been an absolute star, and I only wanted to come and say thank you and wish you Happy Christmas." He reached out and put his hand on her far shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. Then he was off, walking toward the exit again.
He touched her.
The sun rose in her chest. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed.
She looked over at her shoulder where he'd deliberately touched her, and noticed just beyond her shoulder was the satchel she had intended to give him.
She grabbed it and rose from her chair to walk as quickly as she dared out of the library. She cast Homenum Revelio to try and see which way he'd gone, and caught sight of a figure moving away that moved like he did, so she chased after him.
She caught up to him after he'd entered a disused classroom on the second floor. She reached out to open the door, but a laugh from inside the room stopped her. It was a noise she'd recognize anywhere, and it was made by Ronald Bilius Weasley.
"Sonus Amplificare." She whispered, and the voices on the other side of the door came through as though the door weren't there at all.
"...So I said she'd been an absolute star and I only wanted to wish her Happy Christmas." Michael said. He laughed then, as did three other voices.
"Don't know how you manage it, Michael. You must have a stomach of cast iron." A female voice said.
"I absolutely do, and it's all I can do to sit there at the table with her with a straight face. I keep seeing Thomas's mural. That bloody bird's nest and those squinty eyes!" More laughter. "You were absolutely right, Ginny. She's completely soft on me. Besotted."
"At least you're getting your homework done for free." Ronald griped. "Not so bloody smart for top of the class I reckon."
"Have you kissed her yet?" New female voice. More laughter.
"Thanks for that, excellent way to ruin Christmas. Now I'm going to have nightmares for sure." Michael answered with another laugh.
"Told you she was a bloody nightmare." Ronald said. "Think she suspects it was us pissed in her bag?"
Michael laughed. "Nah mate, she hasn't the ghost of a clue. It's all I can do to not laugh every single time." They all laughed.
She walked numbly back to the library and packed her things, then back to her hideyhole where she belonged.
Where no-one could hear her heart shatter.