A Dance Through Thyme (Harry Potter)

Eins

One

It was several days before Hermione got any more visits from the Marauders. She did not realise exactly how much she had missed their presence in her current day-to-day life until they were no longer larking about in her rooms. Their spontaneity was a force to be reckoned with, especially that of Sirius and James. Hermione suspected that Peter and Remus only followed along for the sake of loyalty to their friends as opposed to any malicious intent. Not that James and Sirius were malicious. They would never intentionally harm any person; however they did have a tendency to get absorbed into whatever roguish activity happened to catch their attention at the time.

To Hermione, it therefore came to be a great surprise to hear the subdued click of the door, late one evening. Instead of seeing the jet-black mop of hair to which she was so accustomed, the light-brown tresses of Remus seemed to be poking through the door instead.

“I’m so sorry to intrude Hermione, but I was wondering if you would care for a visitor?”

Hermione bit back a smile. True to their word, none of the Marauders had yet to let slip of her presence in the castle, and as a result, she had become less agitated at sudden noises, and more welcoming of visitors.

“Just the one?” she questioned, a teasing note evident in her voice.

“Just the one,” Remus repeated. “We Marauders may be brothers, but we are not permanently stuck together with spello-tape.”

“You’re not?” cried out Hermione with a tone of false-mockery. “And here I was thinking that I would have to get Poppy in here to unhinge you from each other’s grasp.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” replied Remus. “So, am I allowed to come in?”

“Yes, just close the door behind you and, come and take a seat,” answered Hermione, allowing a giggle to effervesce from her body as she watched Remus attempt to navigate the small library of books that she had stacked around her small lounge area, each grouped with reasonable neatness according to date and topic. Putting the tome that was resting next to her onto the nearest pile, she turned her body, giving Remus her full attention.

“So, where are these brothers that you speak of? Why aren’t they here with you keeping me entertained, as you seem so eager to do?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I have to admit that Padfoot and Prongs are off planning the untimely demise of more than a few ghosts that seem to think it appropriate to materialise in our breakfast each morning. James didn’t want me to mention anything – he didn’t think that you would be the type of person that would approve of his stab at ‘revenge’. Peter, on the other hand, is in detention, for being idiot enough to blab their original plans over dinner in the Great Hall, the other night.”

“Why on Earth would Peter get the detention, if James and Sirius were the ones that were planning this ‘untimely demise’, as you call it?”

Remus pressed his mouth into a thin line at this, taking a moment to think through his response before verbalising it.

“Padfoot and Prongs are very good at being elusive; they don’t get caught unless they want to be... there was also some unpleasantness that Peter requested we never speak of again.”

Not wanting to know any more information, Hermione held up her hands and shook her head at Remus.

“I think we’ll leave it at that,” replied Hermione, who despite herself, was holding back an urge to laugh. It wasn’t that she thought Peter deserved any mistreatment; it was simply a case of her immediate dislike of his temperament deciding to resurface in her mind.