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Chapter 6- The Sleep



The plan was brilliant. Flawless. Whilst she had known that Remus was smart (he had been a Professor, for Christ’s sake!), Hermione hadn’t fully stopped and thought about how intelligent the Marauders must be; they did create a map that could track people’s movements around one of the most protected magical buildings in the world, regardless of any deception used. But now, seeing it in action, she was rendered speechless.

After they had run through the basics of their prank, the five of them moved outside to avoid perked ears and were now sat on the banks of the lake. Sirius and Peter were skimming rocks across the surface of the water, laughing as they tried to get farther than the other. James had made a bypass to the Quidditch Shed and had, with a crooked smile and wink at Hermione, retrieved a snitch to play with. He was currently leaning against a tree, watching the golden ball with lazy eyes.

Remus was lying next to her, arms folded underneath his head, eyes closed. Hermione watched him, tracing the faint lines of his face. From a distance, his pale skin appeared untarnished, but she knew better. White, almost invisible scars marred his complexion. She couldn’t help but compare this Remus to the one she knew; he was so much happier in this era.

“You’re staring at me.”

Hermione jumped and refocused her gaze on him. An eye cracked open and his lips quirked upwards. She blushed, stuttering.

“I don’t mind,” Remus added and in a dry tone said, “I have been told I am a wonder to look upon.”

She snorted and he only looked mildly offended before his face split into a grin. Hermione sobered up and just smiled at him.

“So why were you staring?” Remus asked quietly. His gaze was so intense.

Shrugging, she didn’t reply. He raised an eyebrow, obviously finding her silence interesting and she sighed. “You have scars on your face,” Hermione replied in a small whisper.

His face drained of emotion.

“I’m aware.”

Hermione just stared at him.

James, who had previously been amusing himself, shot up, eyes wide. His eyes flicked to Remus once, before he burst out laughing, mirth spilling from his grinning lips. Hermione watched him with caution, confused at his sudden eruption. He leaned forward, slapping his knee as silent laughter bubbled out of his mouth.

She frowned at Remus, wondering if he knew what was going on, but the other boy merely looked resigned as he watched his friend. A slight smile tugged at his face, though he didn’t show it.

Just then, Sirius called over excitedly, “Hey James! Watch this!”

Scrunching his face up in concentration, he turned to the side, bending over at the waist so his behind was sticking back, and, with a long sweeping swing of his arm, flicked the rock out across the surface of the lake. It bounced once, twice, then plopped underneath the water.

His face shot to James, evidently proud. James, on the other hand, looked flabbergasted for a second before he asked indignantly, “You’re proud of that? Padfoot, mate, that was bloody shite! It only bounced twice before it sunk!”

Sirius rolled his eyes and retorted, his voice scathing, “You’re just jealous.”

Peter scoffed from his place next to him. Then, his face lit up and he said slyly, “Bet I can make it ten.”

“What? You fucking wish, Wormtail.”

The smaller boy raised an eyebrow, before, practising the action a few times, he flicked his wrist forwards. The stone went zooming across the water, causing ripples to billow out each time it struck the velvety, dark surface.

One.

Two.

Three.

Sirius’ face dropped.

Four.

He glanced at Peter cautiously.

Five.

Six.

Disbelief morphed his lovely features.

Seven.

“No way.”

Eight.

“I refuse to let this happen. I refuse to let Peter beat me.”

Nine.

He winced, squinting his eyes, hardly daring to watch.

Ten.

Peter turned to his best friend, scrawny face pulled into a pleasant yet obviously smug smile. “Sorry, Padfoot. What was that? ‘Oh, Peter, you’re so talented and exceptional at throwing stones. I’m sorry I ever doubted you!’?”

Remus added, “Because throwing stones really wins you the ladies, Peter. You should show your impressive skills off to Mary someday.”

“You mean, when he finally manages to speak to her,” James said, raising an eyebrow. Peter blushed.

Sirius had used this time to pull himself together and a mischievous gleam caught in his eye. Both he and Pete had rolled their trousers up to their knees and had ventured into the shallow depths of the Black Lake to skim the stones. Now, he crept slowly closer to his friend, who was still distracted, and leapt. He pounced on Peter, arms wrapping around the shorter boy’s neck, knees knocking him off his feet. They both landed, with an almighty splash, in the water.

Hermione couldn’t contain her laughter. The sound escaped her mouth quickly and freely before she had the chance to stop it. James shot her a surprised look.

Sirius emerged, his hair wet and plastered to his forehead. A hand shot up to touch it and he pulled a face that hinted to an impending emotional breakdown. He flung himself out of the water and down near Remus and Hermione and cried, “My hair! My beautiful hair! My one weakness! Oh dear, however will I cope without my volume! I most surely will not!”

Remus rolled his eyes, kicking out his feet to boot the wailing boy in the ribs. “For the last time, you’re not Samson, Sirius.”

Sirius stopped his antics, looking at him in exasperation. “For the last time, I don’t know who Samson is. He better have nice hair, though.”

“Oh the loveliest,” Hermione added.

His gaze shot to her. “But not as lovely as mine, right Kitten?”

“Well actually, Samson’s hair was powerful.” He pouted at her, and she added resignedly, “Of course it’s not as lovely as yours, Sirius.”

This seemed to cheer him up and he crawled closer to her, grinning from ear to ear. When he was as close as he could possibly be, Sirius made a move to flop across her lap, but froze. His eyes met hers. Hermione could read him easily; he was scared of breaching her boundaries, of making her uncomfortable. She sighed and reached up for his shoulder to pull him down anyway. Sirius, whilst all the while staring at her to monitor her face for any change of decision, slowly laid back across her lap. Hermione closed her eyes, leaning her head against the back of the tree. He seemed so warm and she let her fingers thread through his lovely, yet damp hair. A strange, rhythmic sound escaped his lips.

Her eyes opened suddenly. She looked down and noticed that Sirius too had closed his eyes and seemed to be enjoying her ministrations. Remus exchanged a glance with Peter, and James spluttered, “Did he just purr?!”

Hermione bit her lip to stop laughing, but that didn’t stop the other boys, who roared with mirth. Sirius grumbled something, turning his head into her legs and shuffled closer.

She continued to stroke his hair as the evening fell and the sky turned dark. He didn’t purr again.

oOoOo

Hermione didn’t know what time she fell asleep.

She was awoken however by voices nearby, but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, which still seemed too heavy from tiredness.

“-fell from the ceiling? I mean, if she was fighting in a war… How did she manage to fall from the Gryffindor Common Room ceiling?” James’ voice was hushed.

“She couldn’t have apparated,” Peter said.

“Pete’s right. Apparition is impossible inside Hogwarts Grounds… In fact, with that logic, it should be impossible to even get inside Hogwarts, at all,” Remus frowned. “Without someone’s permission, that is.”

“What if she was invited?” Peter suggested.

“Who would invite her?”

James shrugged, glancing at the girl in question. “She knew Dumbledore. Well, if her reaction was anything to go by…”

“Yes, but if that’s the case, she would have arrived at the gate or something.”

“Remus, this girl was fighting in a bloody war,” James said in exasperation, trying to keep his voice down. “I hardly doubt she thought, ‘Oh my, better watch my manners and knock on the front fucking door!’ She was probably being shot at from every direction with-” he glimpsed at her once more, before lowering his voice, “Unforgivables!”

The three boys were quiet for a second and Hermione held her breath.

“She could have died,” Peter spoke suddenly and quietly.

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“Does it worry you how we all seem to care about that?”

James looked at him sharply and Peter continued, “We’ve only just met her, barely twenty-four hours and yet-”

“It feels like we’ve known her an eternity,” Remus finished for him, eyes intense and heavy. They stared at each other, neither one knowing how to reply. It was true. They all felt it; the inexplicable closeness to the girl from the ceiling. Maybe it was because they had both experienced and witnessed the hardship they knew she was accustomed to. Maybe it was because they could see that she had been through hell, was still there even, and knew that no matter what, she had to keep going.

A tear fell from her eye and Hermione couldn’t stop her face from crumpling with emotion. Quickly, she reached up to her face and wiped it away, pretending to yawn in the process. Three pairs of wide awake eyes shot to her in the darkness.

“You’re awake,” Remus commented lightly, although she sensed the underlying question.

“Yes,” Hermione mumbled, smiling. She asked innocently, “Have you guys been awake all this time?”

Peter swallowed, visibly relieved and replied, “Yes. It’s only been an hour, maybe two.”

She yawned again, for real this time, and James laughed. “You’re still tired?”

She stuck her tongue out. “Shattered, actually.”

The evidence of her nap started in her bum, which ached terribly from her lack of movement. She shifted, trying to ease her uncomfortableness, but only succeeded in rousing the boy still lying on her. Sirius murmured something indistinguishable, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist to hold her still. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Sirius, wake up. I need to move.”

“Justoneminute,” he muttered, snuggling closer.

“No. Now! If you get up, then you can get back to sleep sooner.”

“But I’m comfy! You’re comfy,” Sirius smiled sleepily up at her, resting his chin on her thigh. Hermione felt her throat clog a little as she looked at him. Taking a deep breath, she shoved his head off of her, causing the rest of his body to roll onto the grassy bank. “Okay,” he said, clambering to his feet and rubbing his head. “Point taken. You could have been a littler gentler.”

She glared at him.

They made their way back up to the castle, relishing in the silence of the dark, winter night. Hermione folded her arms around herself, eyes flitting into the shadows. She shifted closer to James, who was on her right, and tried not to squirm. It wasn’t that she was scared. No, she scoffed at the thought; Hermione Granger was most certainly not scared of the dark. It was what lurked in the dark that had the hairs standing up on her arms, had the goosebumps erupting, pricking her skin.

“Are you cold?” A deep voice breathed in her ear. She looked up to see James blinking down at her.

“Oh, no, I-”

“Here.” He shrugged off his jumper and moved to stand in front of her, leaving the other three to continue walking. Sticking his tongue between his teeth, James held it over her head, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“What-?”

“Up.” Hermione lifted her arms up, and he pulled it down over her head. The jumped was huge on her, and she tugged it down further so it stopped at her mid-thigh. Her hands were concealed by the sleeves and she tucked her fingers up inside the cuff to keep them warm. Hermione couldn’t help but let her senses be overwhelmed by the scent of him.
James smelt of spice and cold October nights. He smelt of firewood, that had slowly sacrificed itself to provide warmth for others, had been reduced to a charred, blackened crisp.

He smelt like Harry.

“Thank you.”

He smelt like home.

James shrugged, his face soft and said, “The boys tease me. They say I’m the Mother Hen and I’m always clucking. I can’t really rest if someone I care for is… I dunno, cold or hungry or sad, you know? I get it from my mum.”

Even after he returned to her side, and they started walking again, Hermione felt warm and touched and loved.

oOoOo

They walked through the candle-lit corridors peacefully, taking their time. All the while, Hermione fingered with the hem of James’ jumper, chewing her bottom lip compulsively.

Could she bring herself to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room? After everything that’s happened there. Sure, the good outweighed the bad, but she wasn’t sure she could face the happy memories either.

All it would take was the sight of the fireplace, where they had lounged almost every winter, bathed in the heat, or the appearance of the table where Harry and Ron had played Wizards Chess most Saturday mornings, to set her off. Hermione didn’t know if she was ready to relive those moments, and to confront the truth that they may never happen again.

And then suddenly, they were there. Standing in front of the Fat Lady. Even out here, she could make out the distinct rumble of life and conversation seeping through the hidden door.

“Fortis Corde Suo,” Remus said, watching as the portrait swung backwards and the Common Room came into view.

The four boys stepped in first and Hermione followed, already feeling her throat shake. The red and gold adornments seemed to mock her, and she whipped her head around to try and escape the hissing curtains and the laughing walls. Swallowing, she tried to breathe normally, but the oxygen wouldn’t come and she didn’t know what to do. She needed to breathe, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t breathe. Her head was indiscernible. Hermione could see people start to look at her, but it didn’t feel like her. It felt like someone else was standing where she was, using her body as a vessel and she was trapped to endure. Sirius was there in front of her, eyebrows furrowed, hands on her shoulders but she couldn’t feel his grip. She couldn’t feel anything. It was like she wasn’t there.

And then, she wasn’t there at all.

Hermione was back in her time. She could see the floor littered with odd objects. She could see the piles of random leftovers from students over the centuries. She could see the blonde boy in front of her with the sallow face and his scared eyes and his lips mouthed the same words over and over and over again and then he was falling and all Hermione could do was cry-

When she jolted back into reality, she was crouched on the floor, hands over her ears, chanting the same words over and over again. Sirius was still in front of her, his own large palms covering hers. Over his shoulder, stood a worried looking Peter and Remus, who was biting his thumb nail.

James was on her right.

“Hermione?” He asked carefully, reaching out to touch the small of her back.

She didn’t reply, merely removed her hands from her head and got to her feet. Her entire body was shaking.

The entirety of Gryffindor seemed to be staring at her as though she was some kind of freak, but Hermione couldn’t blame them. They had just witnessed her having what looked like a mental breakdown. Most of them were probably wondering why she wasn’t in St. Mungos.

“Hermione.” Even though her head still hurt and the sound around her seemed to be fuzzy and somehow unreal, Remus’ voice cut through everything. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Hermione reached out for him blindly, not knowing where he was, only that he would be there. And he was. As soon as her hands extended, Remus stepped in front of her, placing one arm around her waist.

He led her through the Common Room and towards the dormitories, but she was barely aware of the route until the door clicked shut and the hushed whispers that had started up were reduced to a ringing silence.

That was when Hermione realised she was in their room. “Oh,” she said. “You don’t have to-”

“Kitten, there’s no way you’re sleeping by yourself,” Sirius interjected. His voice was firm.

“Yeah,” James said. “Look at him, he’s serious. And Sirius is almost never serious!”

Peter sucked his lips in at the terrible pun, Remus slackened his jaw. Sirius, on the other hand, grinned wildly, high-fiving his best friend with a kind-of manic glee.

“Oh dear,” Hermione commented dryly.

All four pairs of eyes darted to her, and then they started laughing. Even Remus’ body was racking with barely concealed amusement. She frowned, wondering what on earth had set them off, when she realised. Her eyes closed in exasperation. Of course, she had somehow managed to expand the pun.

“Anyway,” James wiped a tear from his eye, shaking his head. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Remus continued to hold her (although he kept a reasonable distance away- most likely respecting her wishes, but she would prefer for him to be closer) whilst Sirius, Peter and James commenced to pulling the bedside cabinets out from in between the four four-poster beds. Hermione frowned again, before their actions became clear, as they pushed all the beds together.

She turned to Remus. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, we’ve done it before and it works rather well,” he said simply. “It’s rather comfy too.”

“And great for cuddling,” Sirius winked.

“But you do fall down the gaps,” Peter spoke up, eyeing a particularly gaping breach in the giant bed.

“You mean, you fall down the gaps, Pete.”

The boy in question turned pink, but stuck his middle finger up at James nevertheless.

Remus left Hermione’s side to move over to the pile of clothes in one corner of the room (she rolled her eyes) and proceeded to fill the holes up with clothes, until there was
absolutely no way one could fall through.

“There. Magic,” he announced deprecatingly.

Sirius smiled, jumping on the bed and just lying there. “You never fail to amaze me, Remy.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but otherwise ignored him, and turned to Hermione. “Would you like some pyjamas?”

She blushed, eyes widening. “O-oh. Erm, I- you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, rooting around a second clothes pile (which, judging from the multiple woolly cardigans and odd pairs of socks, belonged to him) before holding up a worn-looking brown jumper. “Here.” Then, he paused, before sauntering over to one of the cabinets and plucking out some boxers. His neck and ears were pink as he threw them to her too. “They-erm, they’re all I have… If that’s okay…”

Trailing off awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm, yeah,” Hermione said, coughing. “Thanks.”

“Bathroom’s over there.”

“Thanks.”

As she headed towards it, the door opened up and James strolled out in a crisp pair of crimson pyjamas with golden snitches splashed in decoration. He held the door open for her, offering her a smile and a “M’lady.”

It didn’t take her long to change and by then, the boys had put their nightwear on too. Hermione shuffled over to the bed, clutching her uniform to her chest.

“Just throw it anywhere,” Sirius said. “Merlin knows Remus does.”

She did, plopping it down on the floor, before climbing onto the bed. Sirius patted the spot between him and James in the very middle and she delicately tip-toed over Remus and Sirius’ long legs to collapse. Neither boy reached out to hold her, but Hermione could feel the heat radiating off of their bodies.

“Pete, get the light.”

Peter’s head shot up and he protested indignantly, “Why do I have to get the light?”

“Because you’re the closest.”

“Technically, you’re the closest, Sirius.”

“Yes, well I am tangled in a mess of human limbs.”

“There are literally two people next to you.”

“I respect their comfort.”

“That has never stopped you before.”

“I’m a changed man.”

“But-”

“For fucks sake, Peter, just get the goddamn light,” Remus mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow crossly. His glare silenced Pete, who with a dramatic sigh, got out of bed and turned the light off.

The room was plunged into shadows, and Hermione immediately tensed up. James noticed, feeling her rigid body freeze. His hand slipped into hers and, slowly but surely, her muscles relaxed.

This wasn’t something new to her. She had shared a bed with Harry and Ron various times. But this felt so much more intimate.

Just as she was drifting into Sleep’s tender clutches, something moved next to her. Hermione frowned. It did it again. The mattress dipped, the covers shifted.

Remus groaned. “Stop moving.”

The movement ceased.

Then, the teenage boy started wriggling again, legs stretching in all directions to try and get comfy.

“Sirius,” Remus growled. “I will genuinely lie on top of you if you do not stay still.”

Sirius exhaled dramatically, flopping down on the bed. There was silence and then…

“What do you think the first ghost thought when he came back?”

A chorus of groaning erupted from the bed. Hermione snorted.

“I mean, it must’ve been pretty freaky. He probably thought he was still alive or something, right?” Sirius continued.

“But, I think you’d know if you were dead, mate,” James countered thoughtfully.

“Do not encourage him, Potter.”

“Nah, I bet he knew,” Peter said.

“But how would he know?” Hermione opted. “If he was the first ever ghost, then the concept of ghosts would be non-existent.”

“He most likely thought, ‘Man, this is a bad day.’”

“James, I highly doubt a medieval gentlemen would use the endearment ‘Man’,” Remus heaved a sigh.

“You don’t know that. It had to start somewhere. Maybe this bloke started ghosts and ‘Man.’”

“Okay, well you can’t ‘start’ ghosts…”

And this is how the conversation carried on. Hermione lost herself in the foolishness, clapping her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from bubbling over. She didn’t know what time exhaustion finally claimed them, some ungodly hour undoubtedly. All she knew, was that this was the happiest she had been in a long, long time and that the first ghost had definitely not worried about the pie he had left in the oven.