Assassins and Lovers

Minerva McGonagall rotated the time turner for the fifth time that day. Hooch was about to die. She headed down the corridor where she knew she would meet her--indeed, had already seen her five times. Hooch would leave the faculty lounge at exactly 4:12 PM. Minerva would be ready--six times.

She waited beside the wall and checked her watch--4:10. She couldn't hear herself hiding in the other nooks of corridor, but she knew exactly where the other five Minervas were. She knew this assassination would go smoothly; she'd already done it five times.

Two more minutes. Madam Hooch emerged from the door. Minerva confronted her. "It's all over, Madam Hooch." Hooch was good. She immediately blocked Minerva from the front. Then another Minerva attacked from the back. Hooch turned and blocked them both. She was trapped, but not dead yet. Everything was going according to plan.

"You're good, Minerva," she said, her voice straining, "but you're not that good." Hooch jumped up, with one knee bent, and in a beautiful round kick, knocked down both Minervas. She stepped over one and began to walk away in triumph.

Minerva McGonagall was not so easily defeated. Two more met her as she tried to escape down the hall. Hooch turned and ran the other way, but met two more McGonagalls. The two she'd knocked down were brushing themselves off. She backed into the wall. Six Minerva McGonagalls surrounded her, pointing their wands at her. "Now it's over," Minerva said. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Hooch's wand fell. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

It was rather difficult to write "DEAD" on her petrified hand, but Minerva managed.

-----

Hermione was hiding. As long as classes were going on, it was easy enough to avoid being assassinated. During the day, there were always enough students around to ensure that no attempts would be made. She would be safe during dinner--the crowded Great Hall was the last place anyone would try to kill someone. Unless someone slipped a potion into her drink... She hoped Snape didn't have her name. She would hate to ingest something that he had handled.

In the meantime, she had to deal with the two-hour gap between the end of classes and the beginning of dinner. The halls were far too abandoned to risk wandering, and her private quarters were too far away. Hermione had no qualms about admitting to herself that she wanted to win. Winning was worth the inconvenience, the discomfort, and the sheer boredom of stuffing herself into the supply closet on the second floor corridor. Her wand, hanging from a shelf, glowed slightly at the tip, just enough to light the book she was reading. She had transfigured a broken cauldron into a soft cushion. It wasn't so bad. Kind of ironic, she thought. Dumbledore is making us play this game so we can get to know each other... and instead, we're all avoiding each other.

The book was fantastic. Despite their denial of any romantic attachment, it is a well-established fact that during the summer of 1045, Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw exchanged dozens of letters. A descendent of Ravenclaw's claims to be in possession of five of these...

Hermione jumped as a sliver of light sliced the wall. The door was opening. She desperately wished she had an Invisibility Cloak.

"Hermione?" Sirius Black asked. "What the hell are you doing in my supply closet?"

"This is yours?" she asked meekly.

"Yes, it is. I came to get my sword."

"Your sword?"

"Yes, my sword."

"Why do you have a sword?" Hermione heard footsteps around the corner. "Someone's coming. Quick, hide!"

Sirius hopped in the closet immediately and shut the door. "Wait, why am I hiding? Why are you hiding, for that matter?"

"I don't want to get killed."

"Well, I'm already dead."

Hermione shifted over to make room for Sirius. It was a rather small closet. He sat down, squeezing Hermione between himself and the closet. "Ow."

"Here," he touched her shoulder and shifted Hermione sideways, then picked up her feet and straightened her legs over his. "Better?"

"Well, now I don't feel like my leg is about to break," she said. It was warmer, too... The supply closet tended to be rather drafty. It was hard to avoid touching him... She clasped her hands together to make sure she didn't accidentally touch his hand or something... She certainly didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

"Wait," he said, "why am I in here again?"

"You were going to tell me why you have a sword," she suggested.

"Oh," he smiled, the wand's light glowing in his eyes. "It's really quite simple. It's for dragon-slaying."

"Seriously?"

"No kidding. I'm demonstrating it tomorrow in 5^th year Defense classes."

"Have you ever actually... killed a dragon?"

"Do I get a prize if I have?" he grinned. "No, not really. But I wanted to once, after a Hebridean Black killed Buckbeak."

"Buckbeak's dead?"

"Yeah, you didn't hear about that? Last year. I was really quite crushed."

"I loved that hippogriff."

"He was a good friend," Sirius said sadly. Hermione restrained the urge to stroke his rough cheek comfortingly. An animal's death seemed like a small thing, but for a man who had lost almost everything, it was another harsh blow. "What are you reading?"

"The Unauthorized Biography, of course."

"Enjoying it?"

"Very much."

"So wait, why am I here?"

"To entertain me while I wait until dinner?"

"To entertain you, eh?" Sirius winked and jokingly stroked her wrist. As she became aware of the fact that her heart was racing, Hermione realized that there was little point in pretending to herself that this wasn't immensely enjoyable. She started laughing.

"Stop that, Sirius," she whispered. "Someone will hear us."

"And think we're up to something? Don't worry about that. I'm sure no one has ever used this closet for anything naughty. It's far too small."

This provoked another wave of giggles. "Stop it!" she slapped him playfully.

"What is it this time, Granger?"

Between laughs she said, "I just remembered. I got my first kiss in this closet."

"Oh, my," Sirius shook his head. "Ronald Weasley, I presume."

Hermione finally stopped laughed. "However did you guess?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sixth year..."

"Sixth year? Wow, I expected better. I was only in fourth year."

"Fourth year, eh? Well, that year I was rather busy, you know, bringing food to convicts, that sort of thing."

"You and Mr. Weasley were still fighting all the time then, I remember."

"Still? That never ended."

"I always thought you two were just flirting with each other."

"Well, I did, too. But Ron... I don't know, he didn't like my studying all the time. He yelled at me about that. I didn't like his glaring lack of ambition. We never had much to talk about. But it was okay, you know, because I cared about him."

"Right. There are always compromises. But then, there are some things you can't compromise. Like you, you're brilliant. I can't see your being with someone who isn't your equal. But that eliminates almost everyone, doesn't it?" he smiled gently.

"Not everyone," she said, pausing. "I can see that now--that I need to be with someone I can respect as an equal partner. But I wasn't the one who ended it."

"Oh, goodness. Weasley's even more of a dunderhead than I thought."

"Beginning of seventh year... Ron said he wanted to have more fun. A couple of weeks later he started going out with Lavender Brown. They laughed a lot... But we hardly talked anymore after that. I thought we'd always be friends, but I think I didn't have much to offer him after that. It wasn't enough for him. I wasn't enough for him."

"You're still bitter."

"No. Not bitter. Just," she fumbled, "insecure."

Sirius stared. "You?" He put his arm around her and squeezed her closer to him. "Look, it's not that you weren't enough. He was just too blind to see all of you."

Hermione was speechless for a moment. She hugged him tighter. "Thank you," she whispered.

He tucked her head underneath his chin. The silence was broken by the stampede of dozens of students through the corridor. "Ah, yes," he said.

Hermione looked up. "What is it?"

"I was hoping I'd end the afternoon with a good-looking woman in my lap."

He thinks I'm good-looking? "Uh, well, we'd better be off to dinner," she said.