Chapter 31
Hermione
“Mistress! Mistress wake up!” The craggy, gruff voice of Keature cut through the fog of sleep. Hermione groaned as a pain shot through her skull, and tried to force her tired eyes open. She came face to face once again with Kreature, who she decided made a terrible rooster. She couldn’t seem to move her lower half, but felt warm and comfortable enough she couldn’t be bothered. Closing her eyes again as the pain stabbed again, she said, “Not now Kreature, please.”
“No, Mistress must wake up! The Weasel mother is coming!” The elf croaked, jabbing her chest with a boney finger.
“The weasel. What?” She mumbled, trying to push herself up and finding herself trapped under a pile of limbs. She found that she was laying bodily on top of Fred, and he hand both arms wrapped tightly around her. Although she couldn’t see she felt something heavy right above her bum and suspected George was using her as a pillow.
“The weasel mother is angry.” Kreature croaked. “Master and her is searching high and low. Master ordered Kreature to find Mistress.”
“Fuck!” Hermione exclaimed, waking Fred. He looked at her through bleary eyes.
“If you want to love, but I need coffee first.” He mumbled.
“No, wake up! We’re on the roof and your mother is coming!”
“FUCK!” That spurred him into action, and they tried to untangle themselves.
“George!” Hermione hissed. She didn’t want to roll and let his head hit the floor, but she also didn’t want to get caught literarily sandwiched between the boys by their mother. She wiggled her hips, hoping the motion would wake him. Fred hissed, and grabbed her hips.
“Love, don’t…”
Hermione, coming fully awake, realized what she was pressing tightly into. She blushed.
“Sorry, I”
“Wake up!” Fred barked, slapping George roughly on the head.
“Hmf. Five more minuets.” George mumbled, grabbing Hermione’s bum and nuzzling down like it was in fact, a pillow.
“Not now!” She snapped, shaking her rump again, trying to dislodge him.
Fred groaned and threw his head back.
“Wazzgoing on?” George groaned, pulling himself up and abruptly falling back as he found his own legs pinned.
“Kreature help?” The elf croaked.
Hermione looked up and blew her curls out of her face, and found herself meeting the eyes of a very unamused Remus Lupin.
“Right then,” Lupin began, his voice gentle but firm, "a little less… enthusiastic next time, wouldn't you say? Molly would have your hides if she found you like this. Consider yourselves lucky I'm here to 'discover' you already heading back inside, completely unaware of your... indiscretions. Kreature, please tell Sirius we are on the way." He offered a small, knowing smile. Fred and George, still slightly disoriented, mumbled apologies. Hermione’s face blazed scarlet as she choked out,
“It isn’t- we weren’t, er..”
Lupin chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet pre-dawn air. "Get yourselves inside, and try to act like you've never seen a bottle of firewhisky in your lives. Your hides depend on it."
With a sigh of exasperation and a touch of affection, Lupin finally managed to get them on their feet. He quickly sent a Patronus – a magnificent silver wolf – to both Molly and Sirius, assuring them that the children were safe and soundly on their way back inside.
As he shepherded the three bleary-eyed teenagers down the stairs, Hermione thought she saw Lupin smile faintly.
Sirius met them at the base of the steps, with a very parental glare.
“Boys, your mother is in the kitchen. Hermione, with me.” He said firmly, turning on his heel and leading the way down the hall. Hermione felt like her stomach was made of lead. She exchanged a mournful look with the twins as they spilt off, the boys trudging downstairs to face their mother’s wrath as she followed Sirius to the upstairs study. Lupin stayed by her side, a comforting presence to her frayed nerves. Hermione’s experience with parental authority up to date had her brain racing with the possibilities of what her punishment would be. Out all night with boys? Drinking? Her own parents would probably have stripped her room of every comfort down to her sheets and grounded her for life. She had no idea how Sirius would react. What would Molly say to Fred and George? It wouldn’t be nice, she knew that much. Her head pounded and her stomach churned, nerves and leftover whiskey causing a storm inside her that threatened to have her heaving any moment.
Sirius Black paced the dimly lit study, his usual jovial air replaced by a simmering fury. She sat gingerly on the sofa by the fireplace. Sirius stopped pacing and sat heavily in the chair opposite Hermione.
"Hermione," he began, his voice rough, "we need to talk." Hermione’s eyes snapped open, wide and fearful. The fear wasn't of him, but of the disappointment etched on his face. He didn't shout; somehow the low burn of his anger was worse. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Hermione," Sirius growled, his voice laced with a sharp edge, "Care to explain why you spent all night getting plastered with the Weasley twins?"
"We, uh…we went to the roof to get away from the party and watch the stars." She whispered, bowing her head and bracing for his anger. “The Firewhiskey was my idea. I just wanted to try it.” Her voice shook, and she braced herself.
““I never saw myself as a father. I was more suited to the fun uncle who visits. Now I have two teenagers, and I’m a bit lost here.” His anger had dissolved into sadness faster than she could process the change. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?” His worry, raw and palpable, was almost as frightening to her as his anger.
Remus Lupin, stepping into the study, placed a calming hand on Sirius's arm. "Sirius," he said gently, his voice a low murmur that diffused some of the tension. "We were all young once. You were hardly a paragon of responsible behavior in your youth, remember?" He offered a wry smile. Sirius slumped slightly; his anger momentarily subdued.
"Precisely why I'm worried," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. He looked at Hermione, his expression softening considerably. "It's not about you being irresponsible, it's about..." He trailed off, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “You understand, the threat to your life is real? How can I keep you safe if I can’t even keep track of you?” He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m doing this wrong. I wasn’t meant for children.” He mumbled.
Hermione, tears welling in her eyes, felt a cold dread creep into her heart. Sirius’s concern was overwhelming, but she felt his very real dread of fatherhood in his words. The thought that he might withdraw his offer to adopt her, a thought she had almost convinced herself was secure, sent a fresh wave of panic through her. She hadn't wanted to worry him, but now she realized how profoundly she relied on his acceptance. Sirius had become a surprisingly tender guardian, offering a strange, chaotic version of familial love that she had craved for so long.
“I- I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“You can’t just do whatever you like, things are…uncertain right now.”
“We didn’t mean to fall asleep there.”
“And that makes sneaking off in the first place to drink with those boys, OK?” He exploded. “I never expected you of all people to be so careless!”
She shifted nervously, suddenly acutely aware of the precariousness of her position within the fragile balance of her newfound family. She felt the beginning of panic flutter her heart; she could take care of herself, but Harry…Harry could not stay in that godforsaken house with his aunt and Uncle.
Hermione sunk lower in her seat. “Will you still adopt Harry though? He needs to get out of that house, you can’t abandon him!”
Sirius reared back in his seat. “What? Hermione.”
“I know I’m a disappointment.” She continued, refusing to look up. “I try not to be, but…I know I am. My parents reminded me often enough. I understand…not wanting to be burdened with me. But Harry, he needs you, OK?” She looked up and met his eyes, pleading silently.
"Kitten," he began, his voice surprisingly serious, "Why would you think that? I was scared you three had snuck off again, and with the..." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Hermione,” Lupin said gravely, “Being worried about your safety isn’t a rejection of you.”
“I’ve considered you my daughter since we first decided it, Kitten. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” Sirius chuckled awkwardly. “But when we couldn’t find you…”
“I’ll be more careful. I-we-didn’t mean to scare anyone.” She said gravely.
“Now, about the boys,” Sirus paused, his brows creasing deeply. “Living together makes it…complicated.”
“We understand why you weren’t ready to tell us.” Lupin said.
“Wait- you knew?” Hermione gaped. They had been so careful to act casually around their parents.
Sirius snorted. “Hermione, you’re smarter than that. First, you three look at each other with hearts in your eyes constantly.”
“It’s fairly adorable, actually.” Remus muttered with a snort. Sirius shot him a glare.
“And second, you are living with an Animagus dog and a werewolf…”
“And you end every day spelling like gunpowder, cedar and black pepper.” Lupin said, louder this time.
“But we’ve respected your privacy. I’m asking you now though, those boys- are you being safe? Are they,” Sirius cleared his throat. “Pressuring you?” Sirius sounded both gruff and deeply uncomfortable.
Hermione snorted. “What? No, we- we decided to go to the roof together. They didn’t pressure me to do anything.”
“One thing I do know is how teenage boys think. I don’t want you in a…situation you aren’t ready for.” Sirius paused, blushing lightly. “Do you need to know how to be safe about sex?” He said firmly.
“We’re not..” Hermione felt her blush would never fade at this rate. She would permanently be tomato-colored.
“Regardless, you are young, in a relationship, it might lead to more intimate encounters.” Remus said.
Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. Her ex-professor and new father were trying to give her a sex talk, with all the finesse of two men who had not expected to have fatherhood come barreling at them in the form of teenager.
“Respectfully, I’m almost 16- I know about sex.” She murmured.
“Do you know the contraceptive charm?” Sirius asked bluntly.
“No…Just, muggle methods.”
“I’m teaching it to you now.”
“But we’re not…”
“Learn it now, so that when your ready- you Hermione, not them, because if they push you...” Sirius growled.
“No, no they wouldn’t.” She assured him. “I’d probably hex the shit out of them, they know that.” Sirius barked out a laugh.
“Good girl. Now, let’s go over the charm.”
Fred
Fred would never understand, if he lived to be two hundred, how Dumbledore had chosen Ron to be a prefect. He felt this was not simply little-brother bias; Ron was a shirker. He needled Hermione into doing half his homework, he did not give two figs for the rules (and Merlin knew he wasn’t judging there) and the idea that he would welcome extra duties around the castle was laughable. Somehow, that badge had landed to him. So not only was he currently scrubbing the dishes in the kitchen without magic as his twin scoured the stove, but they were doing so under the blanket of their mother’s nonstop praise for Ron.
“A prefect!” Their mother cooed. “That’s everyone in the family!” Fred glanced over his shoulder and caught Ron’s smug smile. See if he’s still got that when he wakes up bald. He thought wickedly. Catching his twin’s eye they gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Ron would defiantly have some unwelcome surprises tomorrow.
“What are we chopped slug?” George said bitterly. Their mother ignored him. Fred nudged his shoulder into George’s. Comfort and solidarity, always.
They were getting off easy, he supposed. Lupin had apparently woven a tale of finding the twins asleep on the roof, and claimed Sirius had discovered Hermione in the library. So, they were currently doing the washing as penance for worrying her, since she couldn’t find any proof of them actually doing something wrong. She had a glint in her eye that she knew something was off with the story. He knew he shouldn’t have said “We just went up for a bit of quiet.” He rolled his eyes at his own stupid, sleep fogged brain. A bit of quiet. Him.
Meanwhile Ron was busy asking for a new broom as Harry tried to act like he hadn’t died a little inside when Ron was chosen over him for Prefect. Not that Harry’s behavior screamed “Prefect” either. That was Hermione out of the three of them. He thought for a moment about the Gryffindor boys in 5th year. Neville. He thought immediately. Neville was quiet, studious, and braver than anyone gave him credit for. He stood up for others through his fear, which to Fred was the bravest thing he could think of. He should have gotten the badge, him and Hermione.
When their mother finally ran out of cleaning tasks for them, they were set free, and they immediately ran upstairs to their potions room.
“Think Hermione’s alright?” He asked George as he checked on the potion he had left to simmer the day before.
“I doubt Sirius was too hard on her if they didn’t want Mum to know.” George frowned. “It’d be too suspicious to run straight to her, wouldn’t it?”
“Mum was glaring like a hawk all morning, when she wasn’t cooing over Ronikins.”
“She knows something is off.”
“Obviously.” Fred drawled in an impressive imitation of their potions professor, making George snort back a laugh.
“So…we wait.”
George
George was cursing over this latest revision to the charm he was working on. He was working on a small mechanical bird, a sparrow made of clockwork and magic. The idea was the bird would keep a lookout while you were otherwise occupied in possibly clandestine activities, but the problem lay in getting the damn thing to signal properly. He felt the solution was on the tip of his quill but it alluded him, leaving him in a sea of crumpled parchment as he became increasingly frustrated with his failure.
“Just work on something else.” Fred piped up from across the room cheerfully.
“No, I’m close.” George mumbled, scratching out a line and starting again. He could feel his twin rolling his eyes, but he didn’t care. He was close, he could feel it. He looked up as the door opened, hoping to see familiar brown curls. He felt a simultaneous pang of disappointment and dread as instead of his girlfriend, Sirius Black, his usual air of casual charm muted by a seriousness that etched deep lines onto his face, stalked into the twins' potion room.
Fred paused, his wand halfway raised over his cauldron, at the sight of his grim visage. George felt his twin’s echo of panic flutter in his chest
“Right then,” Sirius began, his voice low and gravelly. He ignored the chaotic state of the room, his gaze fixed on the twins. “Let’s have a chat.” He leaned against a workbench, feigning a casual posture that his stiff shoulders and grave face contradicted. George shifted nervously, Fred attempted to maintain a cheerful façade, but his eyes held a flicker of apprehension.
Sirius continued, his voice sharper, "She’s my daughter, and I will not tolerate any behavior that jeopardizes her happiness or well-being. So…how long has this been going on?” He paused, allowing his words to hang heavily in the air.
The twins exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Fred who spoke first, his voice surprisingly serious, devoid of its usual playful lilt.
"Just recently we made things official," he began, "We’ve been courting her all summer.”
“Courting?” Sirius snorted. “Courting requires parental consent. So, what are your intentions here?” He gave them a rather wolfish smile that sent a shiver down George’s spine.
“To make her smile, every chance we get.” George said softly.
“Spend as much time with her as we can- the snogging is a nice bonus though.” Fred attempted a joke, but gulped as Sirius fixed a glare on him.
“If you boys are making some sort of game of her affection.” He growled, leaving the threat hanging in the air between them.
“We understand it’s a complex situation. But we would never do anything to intentionally hurt her." George said seriously, all traces of his usual humor absent.
Sirius studied them, a mixture of relief and lingering doubt clouding his features.
“Truly, Sirius we want…this is real. Not a game. We lo-really like her.” Fred said in an uncharacteristically solemn voice.
Sirius smiled, this time a true smile that reached his eyes. “Good. Just know, if you boys push her into something she isn’t ready for, or hurt her- and I don’t mean petty childish hurts- or use her, you’ll answer to me. Don’t forget who raised me, I know some absolutely foul spells you’ll never see coming.” The wolf-smile returned, and the twins swallowed and shifted uncomfortably.
“Now.” Sirius clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk about what happened on the roof.”