Late at night in Hogwarts, who knows what spirits one might find? Set during Chamber of Secrets.
Paper faces on parade . . .
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!
Every face a different shade . . .
Look around -
mask behind you!
In a moment of disregard for common sense, Hermione was sneaking through the Hogwarts corridors in the middle of the night with the Map and Cloak she had snatched from Harry's trunk. After overhearing the Weasley Twins talk about the wondrous Marauder's Map, Hermione knew she had to see it for herself. The desire to see the Map possessed her to steal it and also the Cloak, so she could use it unseen. Getting past opening it was easy for her - although it took a lot of guesswork and finally asking a sleeping Fred the password. Fred, being half-asleep and thinking it was Harry, told Hermione how to open and close the Map before conking out again.
It was a little past eleven as Hermione moved around the hallways. Hermione kept her wand lit so she could see the map's surface, but the wand's light was seemingly unnerved - this was because its holder was quivering - quivering from the cold and from fear. Hermione was afraid of being caught - most of all by Professor Snape, who would cut Gryffindor's house points in half and give her two consecutive detentions before the sun rose.
'That's only if I'm caught,' Hermione thought nervously, 'No one can see me underneath the Invisibility Cloak.' She thought it to reassure herself everything would be alright, and she felt her stomach churning with the feelings of both fear and anxiety. Tiny shots of adrenaline were coursing through her veins, keeping her awake, lithe on her feet, like one of Paracelsus' airy sylphs of occult fairy tales and philosophy.
Hermione stepped up to the doors of the library, then looked down at the Map. 'The librarian, Madame Pince, shouldn't be here,' Hermione thought, 'She's not . . . but . . . Pettigrew?"
Sure enough, Peter Pettigrew's named was floating inside the diagram of the library, his name accompanied by a set of small mouse feet. But he was supposed to be dead. Hermione's heart was thumping in her chest loudly, making her ears ring slightly. She took in several deep breathes, inhaling and exhaling. Keeping her calm. And she slowly opened the door - wincing when she heard the smallest of creaks, then told herself that no one was around to hear - then walked in, letting momentum close the door behind her.
No longer afraid of being caught thanks to the Marauder's Map, Hermione waved her lit wand around to see what was there - and gasped as her light fell upon a huddled figure in the corner. His hair was messy and his clothes shabby and torn, and his ears, hands and cheeks resembled those of a rat, further personified by the tail sticking out the back of his trousers.
Peter looked up to see Hermione standing ten feet from him, and cowered in fear. "Oh . . . please don't hurt me . . ." he whimpered like a lost child.
"Are you Pettigrew?" Hermione asked, then shook her head, "Of course you are. But what are doing here?"
Peter began to tremble as he spoke rushed. "Master - sent me to look - I wouldn't do anything I swear - no harm - don't tell anyone - won't harm-"
"Be quiet!" Hermione snapped, then shrugged. "Um . .. sorry? I heard you were killed . . . but that's obviously not true."
She crept closer to the cowering man. "Are you okay?" the witch said, reaching out a hand.
Peter eyes Hermione cautiously. "You're smart girl, pretty girl, everyone talks about you - Hermione?" Hermione just nodded. "You won't . . . hurt me, will you?"
Hermione allowed herself a tiny small. "Of course not," she said softly, taking Peter's hand in his. The part of Hermione's brain that controlled her common sense was yelling at her, 'What the hell are you doing? - he's supposed to be dead!' But that part of her brain was being overrun by a part Hermione hadn't used in so long . . .
The young witch sat down next to Peter, still holding his hand. "You're not evil, are you?" she asked naively. Peter shook his head. Hermione let out a breath of relief. "That's great," Hermione said, and saw Peter's eyes check over her clumsily. Under Pettigrew's gaze, Hermione felt her breath quicken and her groin tighten and heat up. Her face became flushed. Hermione had never felt this way before . . . especially not in front of someone like Peter Pettigrew.
"Pettigrew . . ." Hermione heard herself whisper before finding her lips against Peter's, his arm holding them together. Peter slipped his tongue into Hermione's mouth, and she thought he tasted like grime and cigarette butts, but she didn't care, not when Peter was lying on top of her, kissing her, his hands awkwardly touching her breasts through her pajamas.
Hermione suddenly bucked up against Peter and pushed him off. "I'm . . . excuse me," she said, shakily rising to her feet. Peter followed suit, grabbing her arms and pressing her against him. "Hermione . . . pretty girl . . . smart girl, don't leave me here!" he squealed while trying to slide his hand between her legs.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cried, no longer caring if anyone heard her. Peter was slammed backwards into a table and looked to be unconscious.
With the Invisible Cloak over herself, and not bothering to use Lumos or the Marauder's Map, Hermione fled the library in tears. She found a kind of refuge in her four-post bed in the girl's dormitory, and she couldn't help but think about the cowering Animagus in the library as she fell into a dreamless sleep.