Chapter Text
September, 1975
Hermione
Obviously, she knew the Marauders. Everyone knew the Marauders. They were infamous. James Potter was the star of the Quidditch team; Sirius Black was one of the fittest boys in school; Remus had a bookish, calm charm that was definitely magnetic in its own right; and the fourth one – Peter – well, she didn't know too much about him.
But it was safe to say that until that fateful morning at the beginning of her fourth year, the Marauders did not know her.
But that wasn't unique to them – almost no one knew her.
Hermione Jean Granger, bookworm and swot extraordinaire was better known by the Professors than by the students. Especially in Gryffindor. Her fourth year mates – Gary, Stephen, Julie and Tracey realised relatively early in their first year that Hermione was preachy, stubborn and a stickler for the rules and kept their distance. Julie and Tracey, in particular, were the very best of mates, and besides politeness, never really invited her to come with them to places or join their conversations.
Hermione's two mates were both Ravenclaws – Debbie, whom she met in Ancient Runes, and Thomas, whom she met through Debbie in Arithmancy. She would spend some Saturdays and Sundays with them, study with them in the library, and sit with them whenever she could, but they were obviously closer to each other than they were to her, as they shared a house.
And indeed, a grievance she had carried with her since her second year, since Gary Fawley told her she was a 'pestering swot' after she told him off for hexing a Slytherin – she should have been a Ravenclaw. She very clearly should have been a Ravenclaw. What was the hat thinking?!
*
Back to that fateful day – she left her favourite quill – her peacock feather quill in the common room after falling asleep over her essay – it must have fallen to the floor as she hastily packed her things and went to sleep in her room. Come morning, it was gone – and Hermione was heartbroken.
That quill – it was her parents' gift to her for her fourteenth birthday. That, and the removal of her braces. Her parents were dentists, and so, they made her wear braces from Christmas in her second year up until and including her entire third, and she was about the only girl with braces in the entire school and it didn't make her social life much better, to put it lightly.
But back to the quill. Her mum knew how much wanted one – every time she went to Diagon, she'd drag them to Flourish and Blotts and ask for one. First of all, it was rather beautiful – blue, green and yellow swirling together, soft to the touch yet very sturdy. Second of all, it made every piece of writing beautiful – the natural properties of the feather, in addition to the special charms they used for their quills, produced a product that beautified handwriting. But most importantly, the quill purchase was the beginning of one of the best days she'd had that summer – her parents bought her the quill, then bought her a Transfiguration book she really wanted to read for a while, and finally, they sat to eat ice cream together, and her parents lovingly told her how proud of her they were. More than a quill for her, it was a memory; and whenever things in Hogwarts had gotten lonely, she'd hug the quill and remember better times, and that she was, actually, loved, even if by people who couldn't accompany her to the Wizarding World.
She pinned a notice to the notice board, specifying what she was looking for, then made her way to breakfast – upset and worried. If she had lost it – genuinely lost it… It cost her parents so much, too…
She didn't really have anyone to sit with at meals. She'd usually read. But the quill was also her bookmark, and now, reading would just serve to remind her of the loss.
She usually didn't mind how much noise the Marauders made – she was usually able to ignore it – but this morning, it bothered her very much. She was sitting a few seats from them, next to a few third years, her mind wandering to her quill, to whether the person who took it would return it, or whether she'd never see it again.
"I can't hear you when you hiss like that, Evans!" James Potter grinned, his voice ringing loudly, "if you want me to hear you, you'd have to speak up!"
"You're a PRAT! Is that what you wanted to hear?" A redheaded girl Hermione thought she recognised said from across the table. Lily, she thought her name was. Another fifth year.
"No," James grinned, "but – it's to be expected. I knew you wouldn't take well to me being better than you in Charms –"
"We were both able to cast it!" She objected. A girl sitting next to her – Mary, Hermione thought her name was – pulled at Lily's arm and whispered something into her ear.
"Blushing suits you, Evans," Sirius Black smirked, "your face matches your hair."
"You're also quite the prat, aren't you, Sirius?" Lily's mate said to him.
He twirled something between his fingers as he grinned. "Nah. I just say it as it is – and it is pretty cool that her cheeks match her hair –"
"Hey!" Hermione was shocked. In an instant, she stood over Sirius Black, "this is mine!"
At least ten sets of eyes were on her. Sirius, James and their two other mates; Lily and two of her mates; and Julie and Tracey, her dormmates, staring at her as if she was an alien.
"What?" Sirius finally answered, his black eyebrows high on his forehead.
Perhaps she should have been delicate – but she wasn't, after fretting for an entire morning. She snatched her peacock quill from his hand. "This is mine! Isn't it? Did you find it in the common room?"
More silence. Sirius Black was now staring at her with astonishment. Finally, he cleared his throat with a nervous laugh. "Love, then just say so. I would have given it to you – no reason to attack me –"
"Attack you?" Lily asked with an eyebrow raised.
Hermione was too busy blushing; Julie and Tracey were looking at her critically and whispering between themselves.
Once, they did a sort of intervention (their definition for it) where they told her that while she meant well, she was abrasive and pushed people away, and that she should probably learn to go with the flow and approach people better. This incident, with one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, was probably the kind of thing they were talking about then.
She, of course, ignored their 'advice' – it was riddled with too many examples of interactions she stood behind fully and would not take back, so, useless to her.
"A girl taking back the possession you stole from her is attacking you?" Lily continued.
Sirius bristled.
Hermione, mortified now, with the thought of at least a week of Julie and Tracey's hissed gossip in their dormitory said then, "er… he probably didn't steal it. I think I dropped it in the common room."
"You did," Sirius crossed his arms, before giving a pointed look to Lily.
"But these are so expensive, Sirius," Lily's friend, Mary, said. "Why didn't you ask around who lost one?"
"I'm sorry I – er – attacked you," Hermione couldn't help an eyeroll. It was a rather dramatic way to look at their interaction.
"It doesn't count if you roll your eyes," James Potter told her with a smirk.
"Well – well – is it really accurate to say I attacked you?" She felt her cheeks heat up again at Sirius' equal irritation, "yes, I was abrasive – I've been told before I can be that – but, well – what would you call a proper beating then? You must fall apart whenever someone as much as smacks you on the shoulder –"
She was surprised when Sirius' mates and Lily and her friend laughed.
Sirius didn't laugh, now watching her as if it were the first time he was actually properly seeing her. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
"What does this have to do with anything?" She huffed.
"She's Hermione Granger, and she's always like this," Tracey leaned forward, butting into the conversation. "Ignore her, Sirius."
"Who are you?" Sirius now asked Tracey, "all sorts of people seem to know me!"
"You're infamous, is this news to you?" Hermione decided that nothing good would come out of this interaction, so no reason to mince words, "anyway, glad to have my quill back. Er, sorry if I, er, 'attacked you'," she made air quotations, garnering even more laughter from his mates.
"Air quotations are worse than an eyeroll, girlie!" James Potter grinned.
"Well, that's because I didn't attack him!" It was her turn to bristle. "Here," and she smacked Sirius' shoulder, "you must be proper dead now, aren't you?!"
His mates were roaring with laughter. So were Lily and Mary. Sirius glared at her.
"Okay. Bye now," and she went away, vowing to ignore Tracey and Julie as if her life depended on it, spending her entire day in the library until it all blew over…
She felt the fifth-years' eyes on her as she retreated. She made a point not to look back.
It didn't blow over. Tracey and Julie told Stephen and Gary, and now all four would either frown at her or laugh when she was nearby. She ignored them, very decidedly; but heard their whispered conversations anyway.
"Social suicide, I heard it was," Gary whispered to Stephen behind her in Potions, "apparently, she yelled at Black of all people in front of the entire house…"
Tracey just laughed at her, to her face. Hermione was in her nightclothes and read a book in bed – but Tracey made it impossible to ignore her as she stood just beside her bed, staring at her and laughing.
"Well," Tracey shrugged, "you really did it this time, Granger. Making an enemy out of Sirius Black – I will say this – I can finally see why the hat decided to put you in Gryffindor. That's, at the very least, brave."
"Thanks," she said, and turned to the other side, now reading the book against the wall. After a few minutes, she heard Tracey's steps and knew she was gone.
October, 1975
She would have been fine – in fact, very relieved, if that was the extent of her interactions with Sirius Black.
But it decidedly wasn't – instead, a month after that fateful breakfast, she was sitting late at night in the common room, finishing an essay in Charms, when the portrait swung open, and four boys stepped in.
When she saw who those four boys were she wanted to groan. She was doing her best to avoid them – avoid Sirius' frown whenever the two of them were in close proximity, and avoid his mates' grins whenever they saw her. Both annoyed her; both were a reminder of an interaction her year mates refused to let go and brought up daily.
She tried to force her eyes to stay on the parchment she wrote her essay on – but knew it might not do much. The common room was empty apart from the five of them – everyone else went to sleep. It was long, long after curfew, and obviously Hermione did not miss that. Had she been a prefect, she would probably deduct points. But she wasn't yet – though she hoped to be next year, obviously.
The four of them whispered between themselves. She heard them, though she refused to look up from her essay and meet their eyes.
"Oh, look, the peacock quill in action," a dry voice said. She looked up, straight to the steely grey eyes of one Sirius Black.
"Right," she answered, and then looked back down at her essay.
He sat next to her. She had absolutely no idea why. "I mean – I hope it's serving you well. You did make quite the fuss to get it back…"
"It is, yes," she met his eyes again, with a fake smile, "thank you for your concern."
"Pleasure, doll," he grinned back, and she narrowed her eyes.
"Doll?"
"Blimey, Padfoot, leave the girl alone," Remus Lupin said, making for the stairs, "she's clearly trying to study."
"Maybe I can help her!" Sirius called after him, "I am a year older!"
"How do you know that?" She asked him before she could stop herself.
"What?"
"How do you know I'm a year below you?"
"I don't – what?" It was his turn to narrow his eyes.
"Simple enough, girlie," James Potter grinned, also making his way upstairs, Peter Pettigrew in tow, "he has been watching you."
"Sod off, Prongs!" Sirius called after him. His cheeks were… pink?
She didn't understand why Sirius didn't go with them. Why was he still sitting there?
"I know Fawley," Sirius said then, meeting her eyes, "that's how I know. He's from your year, right?"
"Right," she said, struggling to hide her distaste. She did not like Gary.
"You don't like him?" Sirius seemed amused.
Merlin's beard – no, not another social crisis caused by her interactions with Sirius Black –
"What? Oh, er, no – he's lovely."
Sirius shocked her into silence when he started to roar with laughter. "Lovely? That arrogant prick is lovely?"
She smiled despite her panic and didn't know what she should say – should she agree? That is, she did agree, but – was it wise to agree?
What did Black want from her with this, anyway?
"You're mates then?" He asked her casually, "you and Fawley?"
"Er…" Her cheeks heated up again.
"Oh," he mistook her embarrassment, "more than mates? Merlin, I thought that huge forehead of his is a turn-off, but I guess not –"
"We're absolutely not more than mates, we're not even that – look, er, Mr. Black –"
"Mr. Black?" He looked at her as if she had grown a second head.
"The last time someone called you 'Sirius' without properly knowing you, you snapped at them," she justified herself. He was still looking at her as if she was the strangest person he had ever met. "Look, er, Sirius, Mr. Black, Padfoot – however you want to be called – the last time you and I, er, had a disagreement, people have bullied me ever since. Can you – er – well – leave me alone, and more importantly, not tell other people that I'm strange and irritating and whatever it is you've been saying?"
"What?" He frowned. Deeply. "What do you mean by – er, bullied you?"
"I mean, they've been mocking me, teasing me, ignoring me, and saying the usual – 'pestering swot', 'insufferable girl'… You know, the usual. And, er, they always call me these things – but because of how public our, er, 'feud' was, and because of how badly you took it –"
"I didn't take it too badly," he said quietly. He looked down at his lap.
"Right – but, because you are so, er, popular and all that, they thought me mental for – for even talking to you – let alone, er, 'trying my regular pestering' as Gary – that is, you know him as Fawley – said it…"
"What a prick," he looked up again, and she was surprised by how earnest he was, "they all are. Look – I was surprised, alright? You were a bit – er – unusual to speak to. But I didn't – you should know that I didn't find you especially irritating, perhaps just normally irritating, and I definitely didn't talk about it to other people or, er, encourage them to bully you."
"Oh," that actually was news to her. For a moment or two, she had no idea what to say.
"Wait here," he got up. Before she could answer, he went up the stairs and was gone.
She looked after him, her pulse quickening. She had no idea what was going on – and not enough social finesse to properly decide what to say or do when he came back.
He was back a couple of minutes later, handing her…
"A peacock quill," he grinned, a glint in his grey eyes, "you reacted so violently to losing the first one –"
"Not violently," she corrected quietly, still not reaching to take his offering.
"Take it," and without waiting for her answer, he dropped it on her lap, "I ordered one by mail. I actually ordered this one for myself. I suppose I did fancy the one I had found – mind you, stranded – in the common room. But I don't actually need one – have enough good quills, and since you seem so attached to the concept, maybe you can have two and not lose your head if the first one ever goes missing."
"These are so expensive!" She tried to hand it back to him, "I can't accept!"
"You can leave it here then," he grinned as he made to get up, "maybe someone will find it and get as excited as I was when I found it." And he disappeared up the stairs.
Her heart rate wouldn't return to normal for the next ten minutes as she overanalysed their conversation, trying to think if she said something wrong, something bad, something to get her in more trouble with her year mates; but Black did say he didn't say anything about her to others, and he seemed somewhat, er, disturbed by how they treated her, so maybe – maybe it wouldn't cause further trouble?
She finally sighed and packed up her things. Time would tell. But she was too used to things not being in her favour – so honestly, she wasn't too optimistic.
The next morning, Sirius Black almost gave her a heart attack.
"Oi! Granger!" A loud voice boomed as she neared the Gryffindor table.
Sirius Black, grinning at her, was gesturing to an empty seat beside him. His mates looked at him as if he was crazy; her year mates' mouths fell open so widely that a fly could have flown in; as for Hermione herself… She was frozen for at least a minute.
Everyone was looking at her. Again.
She wanted that to stop, that was for sure… She'd better go sit with him then…
"Hello," Sirius told her cheerfully as she sat down, her legs a bit shaky, "lads – you all know Hermione Granger, don't you?" And he gestured to his mates.
They gave her nods or smiles, but mostly stared incredulously at Sirius.
"Right. Well, Hermione, these are my mates. This is James Potter – he's a prat, perhaps you've heard of him –"
"Godric, Padfoot!" But James was grinning.
"Remus Lupin – you two might get along, he also loves learning and reads those giant books you seem to take with you everywhere," Sirius gestured to Remus Lupin, who glared at him. "And, er, that's Peter Pettigrew. How should I introduce you, mate?" Peter shrugged. Sirius shrugged as well and then gave her a grin, "finally, now properly – I'm Sirius Black, but the 'Black' part is my least favourite part of my name –"
"So a name after the 'dog star' is preferable?" James sniggered.
"So, Peacock, no 'Mr. Black' in the future, yeah?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.
"What did you…" Hermione shook her head, her eyes narrowing, "what did you call me?"
"Oh," and he grinned, "'Peacock'. Yeah – I think it's a brilliant nickname too –"
"I'm – I'm not – what?!" She was… overwhelmed. No other word for it.
"She called you 'Mr. Black'?" James started to laugh.
Sirius raised a hand. "No, Prongs, this is between me and Peacock. Don't laugh at her –"
"Why are you calling me that?!" She couldn't stop herself from pulling his arm. When he laughed, she hurriedly added, "obviously, I understand the reference – but does it seem reasonable to you to give me a nickname after a bird?"
"To be fair, er, Hermione," Remus said, drawing her attention to him, "he did coin 'Prongs' for James, after, er, antlers. So he's clearly, you can say, 'creative'."
"Who is your new victim, Sirius?" A cold and amused voice said. Lily Evans, grinning at them. "Girlie, don't fall for his flirting – despite his name he is a notoriously unserious bloke –"
"Sod off, Evans," Sirius seemed annoyed as his mates laughed. Hermione – cautiously – smiled too. Her eyes wandered to Sirius – but no way was he – there was absolutely no way he was flirting with her, he was the most popular lad in the whole bloody – and she evidently was not – "Let the girl make up her own mind, will you?" Sirius added.
"How do you do, Hermione, was it?" Lily Evans then smiled at her, "I'm Lily. Evans. I'm also a Prefect this year, so if any of these prats are bothering you, you can come to me."
"Thank you," she smiled back, still rather shocked, "but, er, it's, it's fine now. Besides him calling me 'Peacock', but I don't think you can deduct points for that…"
And even though she was mostly serious, they all laughed at that. That made her ease up a bit – none of them seemed to particularly dislike her…
"Pumpkin juice, Peacock?" Sirius offered her.
"No… wait, don't call me that!" She protested, and made them all laugh again.
"Leave her alone, you git," Lily said, but with a smile.
"Mind your own business, Evans – this is between me and Peacock over here."
"Black!" A voice suddenly said. They all turned to look at her year mates. Julie and Tracey looked stunned. Stephen too. Gary was smirking. "You sure about this seating arrangement? Our dear Granger can be a bit much to handle…"
"Maybe for you – but that's expected when your brain is pea-sized," Sirius shot back coldly, and then picked up the bun basket, "a bun, Peacock?"
His smile was wide again. His eyes glinted. She glanced at her year mates; at their astonishment and at Gary's mortification and then took a bun. She even smiled back when Sirius grinned at her.
He was… helping her.
She chewed her bun quietly, glancing at him as she did. Soon, he and his mates started to talk about something, and Lily too, was distracted with one of her mates.
When they made to get up, Sirius pulled at her arm and kept her down with him, watching her seriously as they stayed at the table, almost the last two there. "Listen now," he said, his eyes in hers, "once you have a nickname, you're in."
"In?" She felt her cheeks heat up.
"Well," and he laughed, "not a Marauder proper – we're a closed group, we are – but you're a mate. At least to me – you're a mate. You may be the strangest girl – nay, person I've ever met," and his smile widened when she smiled too, shocked, "but, I will not let anyone bully you just because I accidentally took your quill –"
"You stole it," she cut in. His smile wiped off his face as he met her eyes… And she started to laugh. Slowly, he grinned too as she explained, "I'm joking."
"Good," and he pulled at one of her curls until it sprang into her face, "good – having a sense of humour is a prerequisite to be one of my mates. That's what disqualifies Evans, for instance…"
Hermione wanted to laugh again. She may not have known Lily Evans for long – but the few times they did talk, she clearly did have a sense of humour, it was just usually at Sirius' expense.
"We're good, Peacock?" He smiled at her and gave her a hand to shake. She… smiled back, and tried to ignore thoughts that told her he was very handsome when he smiled like that, his wavy black hair pulled back behind his ears, his grey eyes glinting; or that he was just, well, handsome in general.
She, cautiously, put her hand in his. His was larger, much larger, and calloused, and… warm. It wasn't really a handshake – he enveloped her hand with his, his eyes set on her face.
"And," he added, suddenly much less amused – a dangerous glint in his eyes instead, "if anyone bothers you – especially that wanker, Fawley – come to me. I'll give them a good earful, I will…"
"You're so nice," she breathed. She couldn't stop herself.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh? Am I? That's a first…"
"Is it?" She struggled to believe it. He was arrogant and blunt when he wanted to be, sure; but clearly, he was very nice too… "Yeah," she looked down at her feet, "but, er, you know, limited resource for me – people being nice – maybe you're not that nice and I'm just not a good judge," she laughed nervously.
"Oh – no, then I am nice," he now glared, "Circe, I can't listen to this. I could properly deck Fawley now – stupid wanker, do you know what an awkward boy he used to be? He once peed his pants in front of us…"
"What?" She grinned, laughing despite it being very… er… petty. "How do you even – er, Sirius," she was still not used to saying his name, still not used to knowing him, "how do you know him so well?"
"Oh," Sirius seemed surprised, "he's just another… er, you know," he waved his hand dismissively.
She tilted her head. "Another what?"
"Another, er, 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'," Sirius said, and seemed a bit embarrassed.
Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion. Then it hit her. "Oh – Pureblood families. Right. You lot are like – are like the Wizarding World's version of royalty, right?"
"You're a Muggleborn?" He asked her.
She felt defensive. It was rarer for her to be bullied for that – usually her personality was enough of a reason – but it wasn't lost on her why the Slytherins in her year weren't big fans of hers. It was especially bad when she walked around with the braces and everyone called it a 'Muggle Cage'.
"Er… yes. Why?"
"Nothing," he grinned, "I love Muggleborns."
"You do?" She was confused.
"Yup – wonderfully confused by everything, and – and I happen to think that the fittest birds all happen to be Muggleborns – but that's just a preference, that. One I do share with James, I think, given his desperate crush on Evans…"
She laughed, still so very confused. She then said, "er, a lot of Halfbloods and Purebloods are fit, Sirius…"
"Like me?" He grinned at her, and she laughed.
"If you have to know – yes," and his smile disappeared, replaced by a look full of awe, "but you clearly know that…"
"You are simply the most fascinating person I've ever met, Peacock," he said earnestly.
She rubbed her face. "Look, I – well – my mate Debbie – she's a Ravenclaw, she said once that my first two years, here, being spent so alone, had probably gotten to me – my mum said something similar. I wasn't socialised properly. I know I can say the wrong thing sometimes…"
"Don't be embarrassed," he said, serious again, "I like you – if I wasn't being clear enough."
She looked down at her lap, but she was smiling. Then she said, "I should probably go to class, don't want to be late."
"Right," they got up together. Before they went their separate ways, Sirius pulled another one of her curls. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Tell me if they give you trouble."
"Thanks, Sirius," she smiled.
He winked. "Anytime, Peacock," and then turned around and disappeared down the corridor.
That night, she didn't see any of the Marauders, but she did see Lily Evans. She did something she rarely felt comfortable doing. When Lily's green eyes landed on her, she smiled. It probably seemed a painfully forced smile – but Lily smiled back, and then came to sit next to her.
"Hermione, right?" She said.
Hermione nodded. "And you're Lily. Er, wanted to tell you – to tell you thank you, for – for being nice. I mean, Sirius really wasn't bothering me – but, I appreciate you speaking up anyway."
"You're welcome," Lily laughed in surprise, "I wasn't really doing anything special, though."
"Right, I just thought I'd – er – tell you that," Hermione finished awkwardly, and wanted to bang her head against the wall. She was so bloody awkward sometimes…
"That boy Sirius yelled at," Lily said, then, watching her closely, "Fawley, did he call him? Is he bothering you?"
Hermione decided that she would be brave. Perhaps justify that horrible sorting decision by that sodding hat, "yeah. They all are."
"What?" Lily's smile wiped off her face, "are they? Are they actually – are they actually properly bullying you?"
Hermione felt her cheeks heating up as she played with her peacock quill. The one Sirius gave her, actually. Now that she had two, she'd alternate between them, and grab whichever was nearest.
"I'm very sorry to hear, Hermione," Lily said softly, "I had no idea. We usually – well, you know, as Prefects, in any situation of bullying it's good that we're notified, the Headmaster said that we're more than just rule enforcers, you know – we set an example. We are expected to help with situations like these…"
"I'm so used to it by now," Hermione said, but her tears betrayed her. Sirius' entirely surprising actions, and now Lily's kindness… It made her feel like maybe she didn't even need to have gone to Ravenclaw… maybe just being in a different year would have been enough.
"Oh, blimey, poor girl, come here," and Lily hugged her. Hermione liked her perfume – lemony. It was nice.
"Thanks," Hermione wiped her eyes a minute or two later, pulling away.
"Listen," Lily gave her a serious look, "I can talk to them, but I'm afraid that's not the most effective course of action in situations like these… Might make them retaliate…"
"Yeah, I know," Hermione played with her quill again, "my mum keeps saying that the best course of action is not to give them what they want. Short answers and ignoring them. I think I just get on their nerves in, er, in lessons, as I keep participating –"
"So do I," Lily said, annoyed, "so do a lot of people. Nothing to feel ashamed of."
"And, er, I also told them off a few times in our first and second years when I didn't know better – but, I never do now, I learned my lesson," she smiled, but it felt painful.
"Sit with me and my mates whenever you need someone to sit with," Lily said, and Hermione could cry again.
She did – waving a hand at her eyes, trying to force herself to stop. "Yeah, Sirius said the same. You lot are so nice. I wish I was in your year…"
"Did he now?" Lily laughed, "good for him. I suppose even he was bound to do a proper, nice thing, after years of wickedness…"
"Gossiping, are we?" A voice said. Sirius, quirking an eyebrow at Lily. "Are you the reason she's crying, Evans?"
"Give me a break," Lily snorted.
"No – er – Lily is being very nice," Hermione stammered.
"Right," and Sirius plopped down next to them, "right – what are we talking about, then?"
"We're talking about how Hermione must now pick between my sweet, superior friend group, and your lousy one," Lily smirked at him.
Instead of glaring, Sirius laughed. He – he put his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Her choice is rather obvious, Evans. I'd give up if I were you."
"I see you in the library often," Lily said to her, pointedly ignoring Sirius, "want to sit together, tomorrow?"
"That sounds great – thanks," she grinned back.
Lily patted her shoulder fondly – moving Sirius' arm to do it, and then gave him a curt nod. "See you around, Hermione. You too, prat."
"Bye, Evans," and Sirius put his arm back on Hermione's shoulders.
Their eyes met. Hermione – she – she had no idea what to say to him.
"You're cute when you're baffled," he grinned, "your nose gets all scrunched up…"
She giggled, half elated, half mortified.
Cute. The most popular boy in school calls her cute.
"Do you enjoy embarrassing me?" She had finally found something to say.
"I do, yes," he laughed, a gleam in his eyes, his hand tightening around her shoulders, "but I also liked it when you snatched that feather. Refreshing, that was. It's hard to surprise me, people are usually… er, predictable," and he waved his free hand, as if bored by all those predictable people, "but you – you keep catching me off guard and I do find that incredibly funny. Calling me 'Mr. Black' was another one."
"To be fair," she grinned back, "you made Tracey mortified when you told her off for calling you 'Sirius'…"
"Who's Tracey?" He asked.
She shouldn't have enjoyed such a simple question – but oh, did she. Bloody Tracey, banging on about how stupid Hermione was for approaching Sirius; bloody Tracey, who would have killed to have Sirius hug her as he did Hermione then; bloody Tracey who had fancied Sirius since second year…
"That's Tracey," and she gestured to where Julie and Tracey sat on the other side of the common room and glared at them, looking like a very interesting mix of shocked and appalled.
"Which one of the gits is she?" Sirius whispered into her ear.
Hermione laughed. "The left one."
"Right," and he gave them a wave with his free hand.
They… waved back.
"You're unbelievable," she told him then, meeting his eyes. She was awed. "you're so – you're so – fearless. You genuinely don't care what any of them think. I wish I was like that…"
"You learn those things," he squeezed her shoulder, "I can teach you. It's not very hard."
"You properly belong to this house," she smiled at him, "I – I should have been a Ravenclaw, I think –"
"Brainy, are you?" He grinned, "and humble to boot –"
"I'm the top of my class, including the Ravenclaws," she huffed, "and – and a house dedicated to studying and education fits me much more than, than being brave. I still don't know what the hat was thinking…"
"Well, Peacock, I'm glad it sent you here anyway," and he sneaked a kiss on her cheek and then got up, "it's always a good thing when the hat makes fit girls Gryffindors."
FIT?!
Hermione gaped up at him. He patted her hair fondly. "Be good. Sit with us at meals – you and Moony should get along splendidly, I wager –"
"Moony?" She asked despite her shock.
"Oh – right, er, Remus, that's what we call Remus," he sniggered.
"You have rather weird nicknames for each other. You're Padfoot, aren't you?"
"Mr. Padfoot for you, we both know how formal you can be," he winked. Then he went up the stairs.
She stared after him. She did that a lot. For all his talk about how she kept surprising him, well, he kept surprising her just as much…
And he, and Lily, were so… kind.
Happy, genuinely happy, she got up and packed her things. Without a look at Tracey and Julie, she went up to her dormitory.