The Broken Glasses Incident
Hermione Evans was an enigma.
Though everyone at Hogwarts seemed to know of her - from the seventh years that nodded her way in the corridors, to the Slytherins that all gave her a wide birth in the library (only a handful that would deign to join her table) - few truly knew the frizzy-haired Hufflepuff.
In his three years as a Gryffindor, James Potter had been one of the many that knew of but not about the Hufflepuff girl. He knew she was helpful, that she spent most of her time with Kingsley Shacklebolt (a fellow third year Hufflepuff) and Xeno Lovegood (a third year Ravenclaw), but he didn’t know where she spent her time or what it was that she and Lily Evans got up to when the pair snuck off on Sundays.
Sometimes, though he’d never admit it, the Gryffindor boy liked to watch her. Whether at mealtimes or in classes, there was something about her that kept drawing him in. Maybe it was her brilliant curls - raucous and wild, the colour of copper coins. It was different to her sister’s flat locks, almost red when compared to the true orange of Lily Evans. Or, perhaps, it was those pale eyes that Sirius always lamented as creepy. They were a watery shade that were difficult to track - not like Lily’s emerald irises that felt so obvious as she glanced between people.
There was nothing about Hermione Evans that could be described as plain. Not her looks, not her smile - crinkling lopsided as her head would shake a little with amusement - nor her eclectic style of corduroy trousers and girls blouses on weekends under embroidered jumpers with squarish necklines. She stood out from the other girls in their year who always wore skirts and dresses, even her sister donning long florals that matched her name.
And she was perhaps the smartest person he’d ever met. Though Lily’s hand would always shoot up in class to answer questions, it was Hermione that scored highest on essays and tests. Her marks at the end of first and second year had apparently rivalled those of Professor Dumbledore’s, and all their teachers seemed to believe she’d trump his OWL marks when she took them. Not that she spent much of her time studying in the library, none more than a few hours a few times a week - tucked in a chair close to her sister as she offered insights into what books to find sources in, or what phrases the professors wanted written in assignments.
Truth be told, he’d only started noticing her after her prediction of Sirius’s brother had come true. After that, he’d been struck by how quietly brilliant she was. Once the boys had come back from Yule - and after they’d calmed Sirius post a truly wretched break spent with his godawful family - he’d paid attention to how every single one of her predictions came true.
First, she’d known exactly when it would start snowing after Yule in second year. He’d heard her chat about it all week prior, saw her bundled up in a woollen hat and gloves before dinner one day, yanking her sister to sit outside as the snow began to fall. Several Hufflepuffs (and all the Gryffindor girls) had joined, though the lads had dismissed it at the time. But when the group had emerged for dinner, snow covered and giggling brightly, they’d all regretted brushing aside yet another of Hermione’s predictions.
When the summer came, she’d congratulated the Divination professor on her engagement before the Herbology professor had even popped the question. Luckily, Professor Manto had been so thrilled to find a true Seer that she hadn’t minded having the surprise spoiled. She’d merely thanked the girl the next morning, and told her she’d be seeing more of her in classes next year. The very moment that the professor had turned her back, Hermione Evans had rolled her eyes and whispered something to the boy next to her. Whatever it was, it caused the boy to snort pumpkin juice from his nose.
So far in third year (and in both years prior), Hermione Evans had predicted the results of every single Quidditch match with accuracy, and had even known that their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was a former Auror before he’d told the class in October.
It was a rare gift to be a Seer. Rarer still, to be a Seer of a Muggleborn family. Though she did not advertise her talents, they were widely known amongst the Hogwarts population. Sixth years would come and ask her if the boys they liked would be asking them to Hogsmeade, fourth years would question if they were likely to be assigned homework over holidays. And, as the truest Hufflepuff of them all, Hermione always answered these questions with kindness and politeness.
And though he’d taken the time to observe her, James had never truly formed an opinion on the witch. None more than that she seemed a decent sort, or that she laughed prettily.
So it was somewhat of a surprise to his friends when one afternoon, the Potter boy seemed to have made his mind up about the Evans girl. He arrived in the Great Hall late for lunch, his gaze unfocused as he approached the three boys he roomed with.
“Lads,” James clapped a hand on both Sirius and Peter’s shoulders as he slid onto the bench between them. “I think I’m in love.”
“Is that so?” Remus’s brows raised as he stared at the love-struck Potter heir.
“With who?” Sirius chimed in, propping his chin on his hand - elbow rested the table.
James’s eyes fluttered to spy the object of his affections, freezing upon the Hufflepuff table. The Evans sisters were sat there this lunchtime, surrounded by laughing Hufflepuffs as Hermione seemed to be telling some hilarious story. Oh, how he wished to know what she was joking about.
“With Evans?” Peter blinked, face scrunching as he glanced between the twins.
“Which one?” Sirius grinned.
“Hermione.” James sighed - utterly wistful and soppy. “Isn’t she brilliant?”
“She hardly knows you exist, James.” Sirius pointed out, raising a brow at his love-struck friend. “And she’s a bit of a… well, she’s a bit weird, isn’t she?”
“She’s brilliant.” He breathed a wistful sigh, ignoring how Remus elbowed Sirius - fixing the black-haired boy with a glare. “Avery, the big one, that is, knocked me over when I was headed to the owlery and she fixed my glasses. I don’t even know the spell for it but she did.”
“And?”
“And she told me to look after myself better.” He laughed brightly, a dopey smile plastered upon his face. “Said I shouldn’t let Avery bother me, not when he’d be failing most of his OWLs this summer.”
“She’s not wrong.” Remus spoke, lips twitching upwards. “I spied him with McGonagall the other week when I was getting that textbook. She was reaming him out over his latest essay.”
“Uh-huh?” Sirius raised a brow.
“Apparently he wrote ‘hag’ wrong in three different ways.” The blond snorted, shaking his head in amusement.
“No worse than what that Lockheart fella keeps writing in DADA.” Sirius shuddered. “You know how Professor Zenith gave me that detention where I had to grade second years’ essays?” The boys nodded. “Well, Gilderoy thought that you could defeat a vampire by wearing a garlic necklace!”
A chorus of laughter erupted from the group as their gaze flickered to the Ravenclaw table. There, they spied the boy in question - blond hair pulled into an obnoxious quiff - trying to hold court amongst his disinterested housemates.
“Merlin!” James chuckled, fingers reaching beneath his squish frames to wipe budding tears. “No wonder he wears all that perfume. Probably hiding the stench of garlic in his pockets!"
That brought another wave of giggles to the boys, their eruption of humour drawing attention from those that surrounded.
“What’s got you all so amused?” Marlene McKinnon asked from further down the table - green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Lockhart’s overindulgence of perfume.” Remus replied with a chuckle.
“Oh.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “It is heinous, isn’t it?”
“He won’t even say where he buys it!” Peter lamented, shooting a quick glare across to the Ravenclaw table. “Whenever he catches anyone looking, he tries to hide the label.”
The group turned to blink at him.
“I didn’t realise you were interested in his scent, Petey.” Remus remarked rather dryly.
“No!” The boy blushed, eyes wide and panicked as he continued speaking. “It’s just rude not to let others know.”
“Whatever you say, Pete.” James laughed, clapping his friend on the back with an amused waggle of his brows. The blond responded with a grumble, ducking his head as he went to grab more grub for his plate.
“Oh, shut up.” Peter scowled, though his blush weakened his harsh words. “You’re the one that’s got a crush on an untouchable girl.”
“She’s not untouchable!” He retorted, eyes darting to watch Hermione anew. His dark irises fixed upon her, softening as he spied her offer the last of the strawberries to a sniffling first year. Her smile was beautiful and kind, something whispered to this child as she squeezed their shoulder. Something that made the boy smile, blush, and wave at her as he went back to his spot with the other firsties.
“Oh, please.” Sirius barked a chuckle. “You might as well have said you’ve a crush on Mother Teresa.”
“Who?” James blinked at him.
“Lady I learned about in Muggle studies,” Sirius waved a dismissive hand. “She’s a saint, or something.”
“She’s opened a bunch of schools or hospitals or something.” Remus explained, rolling his eyes as Sirius’s antics. “People talk about her like she’s some untouchably decent person.” He shrugged. “Plus, she’s a nun.”
‘Those Muggles that won’t shag?” Sirius shuddered.
“That’s one way to put it.” Peter laughed.
“I’d still love Hermione, even if she said we could never shag.” James declared, still starry-eyed as he watched the auburn Hufflepuff.
“Sure, mate.” Remus snorted. “I’m going to remind you of that comment in a couple years time.”
*-*-*
Lily Evans, despite the prolific nature of the Marauders, was perhaps the most well known Gryffindor of their year. Not only as she one of the top scorers on every test, Lily was known for her participation in several different clubs and societies around the school. Along with Hermione, she attended weekly meetings of the Gobstones club on Tuesdays - the pair also enjoying to pop by the Wizard Card Collectors Club to offer those rare cards they’d found in chocolate frog packets. But there was one club in particular that promoted her above the others in their year.
The Welsh Dragon Art Club, a formerly defunct social group that the Muggleborn had reformed after Lily had found a hidden room behind a large painting of a green dragon snorting flame from his nostrils. It held a half dozen easels, several large canvas frames with half-completed paintings, and an impressively large quantity of small tapestries that members had woven in their meetings after lessons on Thursdays. With her textiles knowhow, she had stitched protective thread along the seams of the tapestries, plotting with the members over which bare walls would be best to hang the creations.
Their membership spanned all seven years of the school, though it was unanimously decreed that Lily Evans was their leader. She had, after all, been the one to send out the first wave of invites and bribe Slughorn into being their faculty advisor with his favourite pineapple sweets.
And it was where, on the first Thursday in April, Remus Lupin knew he’d find the girl.
Sure enough, surrounded by half-finished artwork and reams of thread, sat Lily Evans. Her long hair was pulled into a chaotic updo - held together by what looked like ribbon and hairpins. The shirt of her uniform was rumpled, her tie pulled loose, as she placed all her attention on the tapestry she was crafting.
There were a few others scattered within the room, all hard at work on their own art. Chatter was faint, dimmed by the soft Muggle tunes that bled from the record player in the corner. Remus was fairly certain it belonged to a seventh year Gryffindor, considering how it was always sat to the side whenever the older years held a party in the Common Room.
“James has a thing for your sister.” Remus announced by way of greeting, flopping beside Lily as she wove red thread through her loom.
The girl snorted at the notion, hands deftly twisting thread as she glanced up at him.
“She’s so out of his league.” Lily giggled, more to herself than to Remus. Still, the boy felt that incessant need to defend his pack.
“He can be decent.”
“He’s a moron.” She laughed dismissively. “He’s at least decent enough not to prank anyone but the Slytherins and snootier Ravenclaws, but he’s not exactly winning the social competition. Not like her.”
“Ah yes. And how exactly is it that Hermione has so many friends?”
“She’s a Hufflepuff.” Lily laughed brightly. “Even if she’s not the most social, she’s too bloody decent to not turn away anyone that wants help with studying or book recommendations. I think that’s how Fabian managed to ask her out, anyways.”
“Prewett asked her out?” Remus blinked. “When did that happen?”
“Last weekend.” Lily replied idly, once again fixed on her forming tapestry. “I think it’s ‘cause she’s the only one that can tell him and Gideon apart. He’s been harbouring a crush on her since first year, really.”
“Took him a while, then.”
“She’s impossible.” Lily giggled, eyes finally darting to his with great merriment. “Every time he tried, she was completely oblivious. Kept on offering him help with his History of Magic homework until he eventually dragged her into Tomes and Scrolls and got her talking about fiction.” She scanned the room, ducking closer to Remus as she whispered. “He asked her about her favourite romance book, then he snuck a kiss after she lamented how Gatsby ought to have just told the girl how he felt, rather than staging all those silly parties.”
“Gatsby?”
“It’s a muggle book.” Lily smiled warmly, her breath tingling the side of his cheek. “I’ll see if she’d lend you her copy, it’s rather good.”
“That’d be nice.” Remus blushed, ducking his head backwards.
“I’m sure she’d be happy for you to borrow it.” Lily shrugged, oblivious to his fluster. “Hermione told me once that you’re the person that looks after her books the best.”
“Oh… thank you?”
“Thank her.” She laughed, twisting thread as she wove it. “It’s the highest honour, really. She hates people messing up her books, but she’s always lending them out anyways.”
“She’s a Hufflepuff.” Remus chuckled the statement.
“That she is.” Lily languished.