The Light

Chapter 10- The Lesson

The buzz of the school made Hermione's blood fizz with an addictive craving for life. Laughter echoed through her bones, and she felt it even as they were filing in to their first class of the day.

Some of the students, the luckier ones, had already outgrown their animalistic features. Others, however, such as Lily, were still sporting whiskers or the like. The redhead was practically fuming that they hadn't worn off yet, and whilst she had been bursting with laughter earlier (Marlene's tail had her practically crying), her amusement subsided when Mary had pointed out that when she wrinkled her nose, the whiskers wiggled, and James had gushed at how cute she looked.

They had quickly escaped the chaos that ensued after breakfast, avoiding detention and the angry outburst of the students. Although from what they could see, (yes, she looked disapproving) Professor McGonnagall appeared rather proud, and Dumebledore was beaming, so they weren't at risk anyway.

"Did you see Snivellus?" Sirius cried, eyes scrunched tightly as he laughed. He threw an arm around Hermione, who stumbled under his trembling weight. Another short burst of amusement, a single Ha! escaped his lips and he flopped his head on his arm and, by default, Hermione's shoulder. She exchanged an incredulous look with Remus, who just snorted.

James commented thoughtfully, "I wonder if the potency of the potion reflects the amount of pure evil inside a person."

Peter pulled a face, looking as though he had swallowed something sour.

"You do realise Lily still has her whiskers," Remus said. "Are you calling her evil?"

Gasping theatrically, James clutched a hand to his heart and said, aghast, "I would never!" He paused, before adding seriously, "Although she's got a dark side to her; you haven't seen the colour of her soul. I guarantee it's pitch black."

"Mine is mauve," Sirius said mildly, to no one in particular.

"How do you know what colour her soul is?" Remus asked, exasperated.

"An inkling."

Not for the first time that morning, Remus glanced at Hermione, and shook his head in disbelief at his friends and their stupidity.

"What class have we got first?" Hermione asked, feeling her shoulder go numb from the dead weight that was Sirius.

Peter wrinkled his nose in thought, and then groaned, tipping his head back in anguish. "Defence!"

She laughed, looping her arm with his, shrugging Sirius off. The latter assumed an offended front. The small boy (and still, he was a few inches taller than her) blushed deeply. "Not your thing, huh?"

"N-no. I prefer History of Magic," he admitted, and he seemed almost embarrassed at the fact.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "I loved learning about the 1612 Goblin Rebellion! It's so fascinating! But the prejudice just gets me so angry!"

Peter's eyes lit up and he said, "You know, it happened in Hogsmeade?"

"Really?" She lied, feeling a sense of happiness at the pride blossoming on his otherwise perpetually ashamed face.

"Yeah! The inn was actually the headquarters for the whole thing!"

Schooling her features into one of surprise, she nodded along, feigning interest as Peter continued telling her things she already knew. Hermione felt eyes on her, and switched her attention to the other three boys.

James was staring at her. There was nothing extraordinary in the way he was looking at her, but there was a softness to his eyes and a slackness to the set of his jaw; it was the type of look he had only ever given his very best friends. It was the very same look Harry used to give Ron.