Chapter Text
Grimmauld Place's library was quiet as Hermione sat in one of the wingback chairs. She much preferred to be here than at home with her parents. At least here she could be herself to a point. When she was at her home with her parents, her father raised her with a heavy hand, and her mother feared her. She would often ask her why she couldn’t be normal. She didn’t feel as if she fit in anywhere, honestly. Being a Muggleborn had its own challenges she was determined to overcome. Never once did she forget her place in the magical world. There was always someone there to remind her she was subpar, a notch above house-elves. She thought the house-elves were brilliant. They had different magic and didn’t understand why they were treated so poorly.
That she could understand. She felt a kindred spirit with them.
The scent of old parchment and books was relaxing, and she sank deeper into the chair. She wiggled her tongue as the mandrake leaf in her mouth shifted. She's had it there for the past twenty days. This was the first step toward gaining her Animagus form. Just ten more days, and then the leaf would be used for the potion she would need to drink at the final stage. She had diligently ensured the leaf was in the perfect spot, where it could not fall out. It had small spines on the back, and she placed that part under her tongue for maximum effect.
Her eyes drifted around the room, noticing that her professor was sitting across the room in a secluded corner, reading quietly. Professor Snape had been spending more time at Grimmauld Place this summer since Voldemort returned, which she was silently glad of. His silent presence always put her at ease, especially when he was not sneering at her. She worried when he would leave in a hurry, knowing his life was in danger, and something would release in her chest when he arrived back.
She had been helping brew potions because others were too afraid of him. She saw a different side of him during their brewing sessions. They would work in silence as she chopped and prepared the ingredients for him. Occasionally, he would explain the process to her, and she would listen with rapt attention. Those were the times she loved best.
Each day they spent together, he seemed to relax a little more. Sharing little tidbits, off-hand comments and hastily muffled curses. The first time she'd heard him chuckle at her, she thought she'd floated to another dimension. The rich, deep timber of his voice was enthralling all on its own. But his laugh? Gods–She thought he should laugh more often if she was being honest. It just added another layer to his snarky attitude towards the students present, especially those in Gryffindor.
Ron interrupted her thoughts, causing her to blink. “Hey, Mione,” he said as he barged into the room, followed by Harry and Ginny.
She looked over at him, raising a brow at him. He knew she couldn’t speak with the leaf in her mouth. Well, not clear at least. Drool would slip from her mouth whenever she tried. It was mortifying, so she opted not to speak at all.
Eating was even more of a challenge. She had to be careful not to swallow her leaf, so she ate deliberately and was the last to finish her meal. Suppose she finished it at all. Mrs Weasley had taken it upon herself to magic nutrients into her to ensure she wouldn’t waste away. She had fretted around her, worried that Hermione would become ill.
It was nice that someone was worried about her. Her parents certainly didn’t. They were more concerned with her being perfect in all ways. She was not only attending Hogwarts but doing distance learning in the Muggle world to appease her father. Not that it did much good.
She looked down at the maths book she was reading and sighed quietly. She needed to finish her work, but she knew it would be impossible with Harry and Ron here. They were brash and loud wherever they went. Her solitude would never happen with them there.
“She can’t speak, Ron,” Ginny said, plopping down on the couch across from Hermione.
Ron rolled his eyes, walking closer to her chair. He looked down at her, his brows furrowed. “Why do you want to become an Animagus, anyway?”
“I think it’s brilliant.” Harry chuckled, sitting next to Ginny. “I wonder what form she will take.”
“Probably a small worm because of her tendency to read all the time,” Ron mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Hermione knew it was a feline but was unsure of what kind. She was thrilled to think that it could be a house cat, much like her mentor, Professor McGonagall. If she were small, she could escape the harsh treatment of her family and hide when she had to go home.
Ron’s words, however, stung. It was always the backhanded comment he would make towards her these days that made her rethink her friendship with him.
Ron sat on the arm of the chair, looking down at her with a slight grin on his face. “Although it is nice not hearing her. We get a break from her correcting us all the time.”
“Ron!” Ginny said sharply. “That wasn’t nice.”
“True though,” Harry mumbled. “No more lectures.”
Hermione felt her face heat in anger towards them. They didn’t complain all that much while they were at school, copying her notes and homework to get through school. Her eyes met Professor Snape’s, who raised a brow at her. It mortified her that he heard that comment. She twisted away, looking back down at the book in her hand, not even seeing the words on the page. She was seething.
She blocked out their chatter while waiting for them to get bored enough to leave her alone. As Ron and Harry played wizarding snaps, she felt the chair jerk. She sat there for five minutes before she had had enough.
Standing, she tucked the book under her arm, planning on leaving. The chair shifted when Ron raised his arm while yelling at Harry about Merlin knows what, and it caught her foot, pulling her to the side. Ron’s body flailed as he tried to regain his balance, and he fell on top of her.
His weight hit her like a boulder, causing the air to whoosh out of her harshly. The leaf she had in her mouth for twenty days flew out, hitting Ron on the cheek with a wet thwap.
They met silence as she glared at him as he hovered over her tangled legs and arms. “Mione’, I’m…”
She shoved at him, tears pricking her eyes. “Get off me,” she hissed.
He grunted as he got off her, rolling to the side and wiping the leaf off his face before he stood. He leaned down, offering her his hand, but she slapped it away. She couldn’t stand being near him right now. They knew… they all knew how important this was to her, but disregarded it, as usual. Why did he insist on sitting on the arm of the chair, playing some stupid game?
She stood up, slowly adjusting her clothes before looking over at him. “It was your fault,” he said. “If you hadn’t stood up, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re blaming me for this?” They incensed her, her book forgotten on the floor. Her hands curled into fists as she glowered at him.
“I don’t know why you are even bothering with this, anyway. It’s not like you would be successful.”
Her mouth parted, unable to form words. What the actual fuck. She was tired of people underestimating her. She was used to the disparaging remarks from her classmates because she was Muggleborn, but never Harry or Ron. They were close to her. She encouraged them when they were down. She thought it went both ways.
Of course, they bickered, but all their friends did. Didn’t they?
“He’s right, ‘Mione,” Harry breathed. “Most wizards cannot achieve an Animagus form, and well, with you being… you know… not….” He trailed off.
“Me being what?” She asked in a low voice. Her body trembled as she looked at him.
He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. When he looked up, his eyes were serious, and a look of pity crossed his face.
It was Ron who answered. “You’re Muggleborn, ya know?” Ron said his face was turning slightly pink.
She took a sharp intake of breath. The comment felt like a slap to the face. “Are you insinuating that my magic is not strong enough because I’m Muggleborn?”
Harry looked away from her penetrating gaze. “I have never heard of someone of your… status being able to transform, ‘Mione. We don’t know why you are even trying. My mum couldn’t even do it.”
Taking a calming breath, she straightened her spine before she let it out slowly. “I see,” she rasped. “Thank you for your faith in me.” Her voice was thick with emotion. People consistently underestimated her. How many times did they lean on her for her expertise? Too many to count.
She swept out of the room, forgetting her book where it lay on the floor. She didn’t care; she just needed to be alone. Right now, she couldn't even look at them.
She leaned against the wall as she stepped through the door. Tears pricked her eyes as she placed her hand on her chest. Her breath caught in her throat when she heard Ginny’s sharp voice drift out the door.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”
“She will get over it. She always does. Besides, she is… she’s…” Ron said.
“Hermione,” Harry offered.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “She can never stay mad at us for long. She needs us.”
“I thought she was your best friend,” Ginny said.
“Well, yes,” Harry said slowly. “I suppose she is our best friend, but she is just so… so…”
“Hermionish?” Ron offered.
“Right,” Harry chuckled. “She is brilliant, but she can be annoying most of the time.”
Hermione’s mouth parted in shock. Was that how they really felt about her? They thought she needed them. It was laughable, really. Yes, when she started Hogwarts, she had no friends, and they had saved her from the troll. She had foolishly thought that cemented their friendship.
She had been a dunderhead.
“Well, maybe if she got a boyfriend, she would calm down a bit, yeah?” Ron said. “Although I don’t know of anyone who would want to snog that with all that hair and her teeth.”
Harry snorted. “True. She isn’t all that bad, though, since she fixed her teeth. I mean, she is fair-looking. I’m sure if we convinced her to put forth a little more effort with her appearance, maybe then she could get a boyfriend and calm down a bit.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, not believing what she was hearing. She pushed off the wall, intending to leave, not wanting to hear anymore. Eavesdropping was low, but she had needed a moment to collect herself before she went to her room. She hadn’t intended to.
Anger burned in her chest, and she scrubbed at her eyes as they continued to speak ill of her. A movement to the right caught her attention, and she blinked up, thinking it had been Harry or Ron. Her wand hand twitched, wanting to hex their face off.
But it wasn’t them. It was Professor Snape. He looked down at her, his dark eyes skimming her body as she trembled. He didn’t speak as he gave her a slight nod and swept down the stairs towards the kitchen.
She moved to the left, her legs feeling heavy as she took the steps two at a time, careful to skip the steps that creaked under anyone’s weight. She wanted to leave, but where would she go? Did she want to go home to her parents, where the ill-treatment would continue? At least they didn’t pretend that they were proud of her.
When she reached the landing, she looked at the room she shared with Ginny, but didn’t feel like going there. Soon, Ginny would come to check on her and bring Ron and Harry with her. Her anger was reaching a snapping point, and she didn’t want to lash out at them even though they deserved it. It wouldn’t help matters if they knew she had heard them. They felt the way they felt, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She didn’t think she wanted to.
Desperation filled her as she looked down the hallway.
R.A.B. The door was like a beacon to her as she slipped to the left and down the hall. Her hand brushed against the doorknob, and she leaned her head against the cool wooden door. Sirius didn’t like anyone in here, but that’s why she wanted to go. No one would think to look for her there. She would have time to plan and think.
The hallway was dark as she canted her head; the door to her usual room was propped open. Lifting her wand, her hand shook as she summoned her belongings. They soared through the air as she shouldered the door. It opened as her belongings floated past her and landed on the dusty bed.
She flipped the lock and leaned against it when she closed the door. She kept the lights off in the dim room and went to the curtains, sliding them open. Light filtered into the room, dust motes floated in the air and she waved her hand in front of her to dislodge the dust.
Moving across the room, she sat on the edge of the bed. It creaked under her weight when she sat on the side. The room was so green. It was probably because Regulus was in Slytherin. Her fingers glided over the green bedspread and took in the room. There was a bookshelf across the room stuffed with books. Her hand itched to get her hands on them, but she knew better. Some of them might kill her, literally.
The walls were bare except for the expensive green wallpaper. Some edges were starting to fray. The entire house was falling apart. His dresser had a small wizarding radio, and the knick-knacks lined up neatly. A small photo was propped up in the centre of his dresser. A place of importance. She couldn’t tell who was in it unless she got closer, but she had no energy to move. It wasn’t like she would know them anyway. She hardly knew what Regulus looked like.
She wondered how he had died. All she knew about Regulus was that he had become a Death Eater, and Sirius didn’t want to speak of it, and she respected his wishes. She didn’t feel like talking about her family either.
A comforting weight surrounded her, and her shoulders relaxed. She felt herself calming down and stared straight ahead, embracing the feeling. The room was like a dark cocoon sheltering her from her depressing thoughts and anguished feelings.
She saw nothing for a long time, hardly blinking as she played the conversation in her head once again. The conversation she heard. She sniffed and scrubbed her palm across her eyes, willing herself to stop crying. They weren’t worth her tears. She would prove to them that her magic was just as strong as theirs.
Picking up her beaded bag, she turned it over and studied it. She had a plan, and she would follow through. They were at war, and Harry was the Chosen One, although Dumbledore acted like she was. He pushed her to take more classes, learning things she shouldn’t even know.
The time-turner brushed against her breastbone, and her hand went to it, brushing against the warm metal. She had it back, but that too was a secret. Dumbledore had taken it back in front of Professor McGonagall and promised to destroy it, but two weeks later, he returned it and told her to keep it a secret. Everything with him was a damned secret, and she was tired of it.
She used it sparingly, of course. She knew the rules of time-turner use and changed nothing in the past. Even though she had. She saved Sirius and Buckbeak. Dumbledore had known and encouraged her to do so. She was starting to not trust the headmaster. Everything was for the Greater Good, but he put people, including children, at risk.
She may leave the wizarding world when this war is finally over. Until then, Harry… the world needed her to keep her wits about her and not act on her feelings.
Sighing, she shook her head and got to work with her bag. She would make an undetectable charm so she could prepare for war. All the belongings she would need to help Harry would go in there. Each year they went to school, something would happen, and she wanted to be prepared in case they had to run at a moment's notice. She would feel better once she could Apparate on her own.
Making the charm was highly illegal, and she could end up in Azkaban, but Dumbledore had given her the book to help her succeed. If they caught her, she knew deep down she would be just another pawn that was off Dumbledore’s grand chessboard, and he would offer no help. So many of the books he gave her were highly illegal to possess. He culled his library, giving her several tomes to read. Most of them contained dark magic. The worst one is on Horcruxes.
She shuddered, feeling as if there was a target on her. If she were caught, they would think she was the next Dark Lady. But, as Dumbledore said, it was to get to know Voldemort’s way of thinking. They would have a better chance of defeating him if she had that knowledge. He didn’t say it outright, but she had a feeling that she was Dumbledore’s secret weapon. Why else would he encourage her to learn forbidden magicks and prepare for war if he hadn’t a plan for her? She supposed it was a good plan. People always underestimate Muggleborns.
She was sixteen and didn’t relish the idea of going to Azkaban, but what choice did she have? Her future was at risk. Voldemort wanted to get rid of all the Muggleborns, and she couldn’t have that. She clawed her way to fit in in the world despite the obstacles. She would make them accept her before the war was over.
Raising her wand and chanting, she got to work.
Sirius ran his hand through his hair and stalked the halls. They’d been looking for Hermione for hours. She was nowhere to be found. Harry and Ron gave up thinking she had gone home because her belongings were missing, but he hadn’t been as sure. Surely, she would’ve told someone.
They’d looked guilty when they explained that they couldn’t find her, and it made him wonder what the duo did to cock things up with her. But they just looked down and shook their heads, their faces flushing under his gaze.
He looked down the hall and saw Regulus’ door. It was the only room they hadn’t checked. The rest of the residents were down in the kitchen enjoying supper while he was worried out of his mind about the girl. She reminded him of his distant cousin. Ironically, her name had been Hermione, too.
She’d gone missing soon after Regulus, and he never knew what happened to her. He last knew that she was going to follow Regulus wherever they were tasked with going. She had come to him, her face troubled as she asked for help. He couldn’t. He was part of the Order and couldn’t associate with her or his brother. It was one of his few regrets in life. If he’s only helped her if he’d listened…
She was Evan Rosier’s twin, the daughter of Vinda Rosier and Gellert Grindelwald, another reason not to associate with her. Dumbledore never trusted her and always watched her, especially those who hung around her waiting for her to slip up. Despite her parentage, she’d been a fierce girl, a force to be reckoned with. There was nothing dark or evil about her despite Dumbledore’s ranting about her parents. He should know; his parents were the epitome of evil, and he had turned out just fine.
He missed her, especially her fire when she thought there was an injustice. Most of the time, it was when he and his friends picked on his brother or Snivilles. He missed her fire. That’s why he did it. He enjoyed getting her riled up.
When she disappeared, Evan lost the plot and went after the Order with a vengeance, thinking they had something to do with Hermione’s disappearance, but that hadn’t been the case. In the end, Evan died, too. He had been close to dying, too, but it was his friends who pulled him back from the brink and continued to fight. But he never forgot about her or Regulus.
His hand landed on the knob to his brother’s room before he even knew he had moved down the hall. He scented the air, and the faint scent of Hermione lingered in the air. Raising his wand, he unlocked the door and shoved it open.
His hand snatched the door before it banged against the wall, and closed it behind him. He didn’t want the others to know he was in there. He had forbidden it for several reasons, even though Molly insisted they clean it out as they did the rest of the house. Leaving Regulus’ room the way he had left it was painful, but it was also a comfort. When he missed his brother, he would come in here almost convinced he was still alive and out there somewhere.
Afternoon light filtered through the room, and he caught sight of Hermione curled up on the bed. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, her knees curled up. He stepped closer and frowned. Tears glistened in her eyes as her breath came out evenly.
It was obvious she had been crying, and that didn’t sit right with him. He was protective of her, even though it was irrational. She wasn’t his Hermione. She was just a girl who came with Harry, but there was something about her that felt familiar and drew him closer.
His eyes traced her face, and his lip twitched when he noted her long curly hair. Her hair had a life of its own, so much like the Black family’s curse. Her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks, her eyes fluttering beneath the pale skin.
So much like her that his heart ached. They looked so familiar that he thought it was his Hermione when he first saw her. A younger version of her, at least. The only problem was that Hermione had the bluest eyes, but this Hermione had whiskey-coloured eyes. Also, her hair was lighter. Hermione Rosier had darker hair with a burnished red tint in it when it hit the sun just right.
Letting out a quiet sigh, he shoved the painful memories away of his lost cousin and friend. His eyes flickered to the small photo on Regulus’ dresser of Regulus and Hermione together and back to the girl on the bed. He wondered what his brother would say if he were alive to see this girl sleeping on his bed.
He would most likely feel drawn to her, too.
Sirius padded silently across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. His hand rose of its own volition, and he stroked her hair gently, feeling its softness in it. It was silk between his fingers despite the curliness.
Hermione stirred in her sleep and blinked her eyes open slowly. She looked up at him with a gasp and sat up. His hand fell to the side and gave her a small smile as she stared at him.
“Hey, kitten, we’ve been worried about you.”
She frowned, a look of doubt crossing her face. She said nothing, her fingers curled into the duvet of the bed.
He shifted back, giving her room. “What are you doing in here?”
She opened her mouth and snapped it shut, and shook her head. “I just needed to be alone,” she rasped and then cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for intruding in this room. I knew it was off-limited, but I needed… I just needed to be alone.”
Shrugging, he could see that she was still distraught and didn’t want to upset her further. He trusted her in here. She wouldn’t do anything to disrupt the memories that crept in here. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head and looked towards the window. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. You’re obviously upset. I’m here for you, you know. We all are.”
She snorted quietly and shook her head once again. “Can you do something for me?” she asked quietly as she turned her head and looked at him.
“Sure, kitten, what do you need?”
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I want to go home. Can you take me there?”
He furrowed his brows. “I can do that, but are your parents' home?”
She pursed her lips. “Yes, but I’m sixteen now, Sirius. I can be home alone. I would Apparate myself, but I haven’t got my license yet.”
Letting out a small huff, he stood from the bed. “I can do that for you. Get your things packed, and I can take you.”
“I’m all packed,” she said as she swung her legs from the bed and stood next to him. She grasped her wand in her hand and slung a small beaded bag across her chest.
He raised a brow at her but didn’t question her further. “Come on, let’s tell the others you’re leaving, and we can go.”
He turned to leave, but a small hand on his arm stopped him. “I would prefer not to. Could you tell them I left? I just want to go.”
He studied her for a moment and saw the desperation on her face. Whatever happened between her and the boys must be significant for her to leave, but none of them was telling him what had happened. He couldn’t help mend their friendship if he didn’t have the information. Maybe some time away would help. He knew that with James, Remus, and Peter, it had been the same way when they fought. They needed time apart, which was rare, but it happened.
“Alright, let’s go.”