Chapter 9: Theatricality
Sirius leaned back in his chair, the personification of relaxation and cool. It was what he wanted everyone to see, so that is what they saw. Inside, however, the boy was scowling, a deep and severely dissatisfied scowl. He had intended to charm the new boy's sister, but she wasn't even looking at him. Girls always looked at him. He was not being conceited; it was a simple fact of being Sirius Black. Girls just looked at him. But apparently Hermione Middle-Name-As-Yet-To-Be-Determined Granger was not the average girl.
"Get over yourself," James muttered under his breath and nudged him hard in the ribs.
Sirius realised a bit too late that he had been staring in a very obvious and non-flirtatious way. Even without the scowl marring his face, staring was not how he worked. He was subtle and smooth… most of the time. "Maybe South Africa was filled with blokes that looked as good as me and she's immune," Sirius whispered.
"Or," his friend said in a low voice, "she just doesn't like you."
"Nonsense."
"Has been known to happen from time to time," Remus commented.
Sirius gave them his best glare. That glare was one of the very few things he appreciated having learned from his mother. Sadly, his friends were used to it after five years and it had about as much effect on them as his pretty face did on Hermione Granger.
"Are you going to go chasing her down now just to prove a point?" Remus asked, his tone implying how stupid he thought that idea was.
"I was thinking about it," Sirius admitted.
"We can hear you, ya know," Tildy whispered and grinned over her shoulder at them. "I don't think Hermione liked that idea." She glanced at her new Arithmancy partner.
Hermione looked pointedly at Sirius with a dull look of boredom and shook her head.
"No," Tildy said for her. "She definitely thinks that was a very poor plan, Sirius. I suggest you find someone else to flirt with... you're welcome to flirt with me any time you like."
Hermione nodded her agreement with the girl's offer then went back to the Arithmancy problem Professor Featherstone had put to them.
"Grangers are strange," Sirius muttered and focused on his work as the professor moved past.
"Shut up, Padfoot. I'm trying to work," Remus told him in a harsh tone.
"Remus," Tildy sang quietly. "Come sit with us. I need you to check this for me." He grinned but didn't move. "Come on… we're prettier and don't whinge nearly as much as Sirius does."
"No whinging? I'm sold," Remus said, and when Professor Featherstone had her back turned he jumped over his desk and claimed the seat beside Hermione. As he dropped down beside her, the girl could only stare in open-mouthed wonder at the boy who would grow up to be her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was far more like his brash friends than she had ever imagined possible.
He raised an eyebrow at her as she continued to stare, "Too much? Should I have just walked round?"
"Nah," James replied for her. "Had a touch of the theatrical. It works for you, Moony."
The boy grinned, his scars all but vanishing in the folds of his skin, making him even more handsome. Hermione couldn't understand why he did not grin more often as an adult. Well, she knew why, there wasn't really all that much for him to smile about, but she still wished he would have done it anyway.
Remus was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable under her prolonged gaze. People usually only stared at his scars, which is what he assumed she was doing now. He turned his attention back to his Arithmancy work, hoping to inspire Hermione to do the same, but her eyes stayed on him. Featherstone would be making another turn around their side of the room soon; the woman was not one for students slacking off in class, and it wouldn't do for Hermione to get into trouble on her first day.
He gripped her chin gently and forced her to look at her parchment instead of at him.
At the touch of his warm fingers, Hermione jumped and blushed furiously. She turned her enormous eyes to her work and kept them locked there until Professor Featherstone spoke again to ask for their answers. Remus grinned and kept to his own work as well, ignoring the kicks Sirius and James were giving his chair.
"I hate you, Moony," Sirius said with a poorly concealed smile as they walked from the classroom.
"I'm sorry, but remind me what second goal of term was again," Remus said in a low voice. "Because I don't think it was getting the girl to notice you."
"I got a bit carried away," he replied with a shrug. "I do that when people ignore me. Can you at least find out what her middle name is for me?" He batted his lashes at his friend and whined like a puppy. "Please? Pretty please?"
"Don't you try that puppy dog stuff on me," Remus warned.
"Works on Prongs and Wormtail," Sirius said. "Bet it would work on Harry James Granger."
"Well, go flirt with him then," the prefect waved him away and slowed his pace to walk beside Tildy and Hermione. The girl blushed a delicate shade of pink as he fell into step beside her, which only encouraged him more. "So, Sirius is begging me to find out what your middle name is. Do you want to tell him to piss off or shall I?"
"Jean," she said.
"Sorry?"
"My middle name is Jean," Hermione told him. "Tell him if you want, I really don't care."
He held her eye as they walked, considering whether he wanted to share the name. "Let him figure it out on his own," he decided. She smiled approvingly and Remus could only assume that he had passed some sort of test.
"Well, I'm off," Tildy declared.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked. The other girl had not mentioned going anywhere after class, and it seemed strange that she would leave Hermione alone after calling dibs on her as a 'study buddy'.
"I never liked being a third wheel," she smiled. "You two keep flirting, you won't miss me." She waved and skipped away singing a song to herself.
"Tildy's a bit odd," Remus said.
"I noticed," she agreed. "But I've known odder people. I have a friend… had a friend… There's a girl who insists that everything strange in life happens because of invisible creatures that nobody has ever heard of, like Nargles."
He frowned his confusion, "What's a Nargle?"
"I still don't know," she admitted. "I've given up trying to talk any sort of reason into her. Generally, I just smile and nod."
"Okay," he said slowly. "Tildy's not quite that strange. And she does make up for it by having the best record collection in the whole school." He helped her onto the staircase as it started to move. "So," he said, leaning back on the railing as the whole staircase shifted down three levels, "judging by your brother's shirts, he's a fan of punk. What are you into?"
Hermione groaned and slumped against the rail opposite him. "Not again. I hate being new. Everyone asks the same questions and I never know what to answer."
"The truth generally works a treat," he smirked. Like he had any right to give such advice.
"No one wants to hear the truth. They want to hear something interesting, but I don't care about sports or music or fashion," she insisted. "I like to read. I like going to classes and researching and doing extra credit. By anybody else's standards, I'm boring."
His smirk stayed firmly in place as he replied. "So do I, but no one would say I'm boring."
She waved a dismissive hand at him as she started up the stairs, "True, but you're also a w–" She froze as she realised what she was saying. The word 'werewolf' had nearly escaped her lips. She was not supposed to know anything about him, least of all his most closely guarded secret.
"I'm a what?" he asked, his voice calm even as his eyes burned into her.
"You're a…" she scrambled for anything that might save her – werewolf, best professor I've ever had, Order of the Phoenix member, wonderful mentor to Harry. 'No! Dammit, you shouldn't know those things!' she shrieked. 'He's only sixteen. You've only just met him. What do you know about him? He's a…'
"Prefect," she said. "You're a prefect."
That single statement washed away the tension of his body and cooled the fire in his gaze. As she continued, he relaxed and the smile on his face turned genuine.
"No one would ever insult a Prefect for fear of losing points."
"You don't know my friends," he laughed, clearly relieved. "Prefect or no, they're merciless."
She shook her head, smiling as she remembered her friend, Ginny, and her tactless charm. She could cut through all manner of pomp and façade and find the nugget of truth in any situation. Often it was annoying, but there were times when the girl's insight was worth her weight in Galleons. "That's what friends are for," she said warmly.
He smiled. "So I take it your friends aren't gits like Harry's?"
"We have the same friends," she informed him, a bit hurt by his implication that she was a git. "They can be stupid, but so can Harry sometimes."
"And after he said such nice things about you," he shook his head sadly and sighed. "Some friend and sister you are…"
"He said nice things about me?" she asked.
"He did. He said all his friends were gits except for you," he informed her. "James and Sirius insisted it didn't count, but he was quite adamant."
She grinned and blushed at the second-hand compliment. "He really is the best friend I've ever had."
"You're lucky," he said. "I know a lot of siblings that can't stand each other most of the time. I don't think Sirius has spoken to his brother in months." He cringed and would have kicked himself if he were not in the presence of a girl he was trying to impress. How could he have given away such private information to a girl he barely knew? Someone else's private information at that. Why not just walk up and introduce himself as a werewolf?
"Well I suppose that's a given since he's so different from the rest of his family," she agreed and promptly bit her lip.
Remus frowned. "You know about his family?"
"Uh..." she said eloquently as she tried to think of a reason to know his history that didn't involve rescuing him from Dementors and spending a summer with him in his miserable childhood home. "Well, I read…" she paused and saw the hint of a smile on his face, "I read a lot of books on the Wizarding world when we first got our letters from… uh… St Brutus's. There were quite a few references to the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.'" She drew slightly sarcastic quote marks in the air.
"Yeah, very noble," he agreed bitterly. He had seen first-hand the damage the 'noble' Walburga Black was willing to inflict on her eldest son whenever she disapproved of his actions. If that was what being a pureblood wizard was all about, then he was more than happy to be a half-blood. "Tempus Fugit," he said absently to the waiting portrait, which nodded and swung wide to allow them entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
"Moony!" Sirius shouted, his voice light and happy and in complete contrast to the grim way they were just discussing him and his family.
"What took you so long?" Sirius asked jovially, but his grin fell as they approached, "Oh, this conversation looks much too serious."
Hermione snorted. "I agree, far too Sirius," she smiled up at Remus and he laughed as he fell onto the couch.
"Oi! No private jokes with me standing right here," the boy grumbled.
"Yeah, no jokes about privates," Peter declared.
"His privates are enough of a joke already," James whispered into Hermione's ear, making her blush and hide her face in her hands. Harry would never have said anything like that in his life especially not to a girl. She could not imagine how different her friend might have been had he been raised by so outspoken a young man as James Potter.
"Perfect timing!" Sirius shouted, drawing the attention of the entire common room to Harry's arrival through the portrait hole. "Harry James Granger, rescue me from their blatantly cruel private jokes about me."
Harry shook his head. "I think you can take it."
A devilish smirk drew across his face, "That's true. I'm a big boy." He winked at Hermione and fell onto James's lap. "Isn't that right, Prongs?"
"Whatever you say, Pads," he patted his friend condescendingly on the head.
Hermione hurried up the stairs to her dorm, determined not to let them see her laughing at their childish games. They needed absolutely no encouragement, though she was certain they were getting enough of it from the rest of the Gryffindors in the common room.
How on Earth was she going to survive this? How was Harry? She could only imagine the mental image he had built of his father; living and studying with the boy was certain to shatter any idealised portrait he might have developed over the years. Harry was fairly well-grounded, but even he wouldn't have included dirty jokes in the words that frequented James's lips.