Chapter Text
Chapter X:
Harry's POV:
What followed his running away from the Dursleys was undoubtedly the strangest summer of Harry's life.
The weather was mostly warm and Hermione had mastered a wandless cushioning charm, which meant that they could sleep out on a park bench under the stars and be as comfortable as they would be in their four-poster beds back at Hogwarts. When it rained, Hermione would take him to the London Underground and they'd cut across to the edges of the tracks and run along the lines until they found a maintenance tunnel to go down. The London Underground was popular enough with the homeless and Hermione knew of several bolt holes, mostly small maintenance sheds that had been abandoned for years. They were usually padlocked shut but Hermione was an excellent lock-pick and Harry was a pretty good student.
They didn't spend a huge amount of time with Hermione's street friends, instead keeping mostly to each other and occasionally Sting. They'd pawned some of his galleons with a somewhat shady looking man Hermione knew who she called "Magpie" the day after she took him with her back to London which gave them enough money anyway that they didn't go hungry and they could spend their days exploring the city, spending time in public libraries and with Hermione teaching him survival skills.
Hermione had confronted him on the first day– upset– about him not sending any letters to her and a bemused Harry had told her that he hadn't gotten a single one of her letters, and apparently she hadn't gotten a single one of his.
That had pissed Hermione off to the point where Harry was surprised steam hadn't been pouring out of her ears though she quickly calmed down when Harry asked her to teach him how to fight. He came to regret that decision very much though she'd probably have brought it up herself if he hadn't done so first.
Hermione, Harry learned very quickly, was not the sort of teacher who believed in going easy on her pupils. For his first lesson she'd told him that hesitation and half measures would only get him killed and to always keep hitting the other person until they stopped hitting him before ordering him to attack her. Harry had been apprehensive about trying to hurt her but she'd had no patience for that and told him to get his shit together or he'd get them both killed so just hit her already.
Harry did as he was told and, remembering her earlier warning about hesitation and half-measures, did his best to actually punch her, not wanting her to be annoyed at him when she had that scary look in her eyes. She'd easily knocked his fist aside and responded with a punch of her own, one that had him doubled over and gasping for air.
Hermione was vicious in her training, knocking him down over and over as she didn't hesitate to land blows on him– not as hard as she could, of course, but enough for them to hurt like buggery and knock the breath out of his lungs every time she sent him crashing to the dirt. She taught him as they went along, telling him where to aim and why before demonstrating– on him– just how effective her instructions were. The closest Harry got to landing a proper blow was when he managed to kick her in the hip and she'd responded by slamming him to the ground and holding a switchblade to his throat announcing he needed to learn how to defend himself against knives too.
After their lessons Harry would be bruised, sweaty, winded and often bleeding, but he could already see his improvement and Hermione always smiled proudly at him once she'd finished laughing at him wheezing on the ground.
She'd also taught him how to pick-pocket and shop-lift, getting him to train with her over and over before sending him out to actually try it for real. Harry managed to get caught shop-lifting during his second try and it had been terrifying. A security guard had grabbed him by the back of his of neck and Harry had struggled to get free but he was a skinny twelve-year-old kid and the guard was a big, beefy man who reminded him a bit of Uncle Vernon and Harry had eventually stopped struggling and let himself be locked in an office.
It had been hard to think through the panic, thoughts of being locked in jail or sent back to the Dursleys making him dizzy as he couldn't even decide which of the two would be worse, but there had been a window in the room and it gave Harry an idea. Grabbing the first heavy object he could find, which was some sort of paperweight that had been on the desk, he'd smashed the glass and wasted no time in scrambling out of the newly formed exit. He'd cut himself up in the process but he'd been free, landing outside with a stumble and then sprinting away as fast as he could until Hermione was suddenly there, hugging him tight as she talked him down from his panic.
Later she'd pulled the glass shards out of his palms and cleaned the cuts with alcohol, declaring none of them were deep enough to need sewing up much to his relief and then kissed his cheek and told him not to expect any mercy from her in their spar the next day just because he was injured. By then Harry had known better then to expect any and he'd been right– Hermione had certainly not pulled any of her punches but at the end of the session she'd said it was time he learned how to use a knives, explaining that bringing a knife into a fight without knowing how to use it would only get him stabbed. She'd taught him the basics using blunt pocketknives, going over how to hold the knife and where he should aim on a person as well as demonstrating how to not let his hand slip when the blade hit resistance.
It wasn't an easy summer– they ate cheap food that could be bought in bulk, Harry often felt like a giant bruise, he'd nearly been arrested and he'd never been more glad about the existence of public toilets in his life– but it was definitely the best summer of his life. The freedom, the lack of Dursleys and constantly been with Hermione more then made up for those things and Hermione kept them away from the more dangerous side of things, steering them both clear of other street kids and homeless people to avoid fighting and making sure they were in the safer areas of the city when night came.
It was nearing the end of the holidays and September 1st was drawing rapidly nearer when Hedwig brought him his Hogwarts book list. Seeing as no owl seemed to be able to find Hermione, they decided to just get double what was on his list.
"There's a lot of books by this Lockhart bloke," he commented to Hermione who narrowed her eyes.
"I've heard of him. He's supposed to be this absolutely amazing wizard who's defeated a number of dangerous creatures."
"Supposed to be?" Harry asked and she made a dismissive sound.
"If he's done even half of what he says he's done, then I'll snog Weasley."
"Ew," Harry pulled a face and gagged dramatically, "I really did not need that mental image!" Hermione laughed before turning back to the list with a thoughtful look on her face.
"We're going to need some way of getting into Diagon Alley without being recognized," she mused, "I know some glamour charms but none that I can do without a wand."
Harry grimaced at the idea of being discovered– he planned on putting off the inevitable lecture he was going to get from Dumbledore for running off for as long as possible and he also had absolutely no intention of returning to the Dursleys. "Any ideas?" he asked and Hermione gave him a mock-affronted look.
"When do I not have an idea, Harry?"
He just rolled his eyes at her. "Well do you?"
"Of course," she said before giving him that wicked grin that he knew meant they were about to stir up some trouble. "We're going to do this the Muggle way."
The Muggle way, Harry found out, was to use hair-dye and sunglasses to change their appearance. Hermione had also decided to practice using wandless magic to change his hair– just for good measure, she assured him– and he was confident he was going to end up bald. Hermione had flicked him on the nose when he'd voiced his fears.
With a plan in place, Hermione had taken them to the flat of a prostitute she knew. They'd been greeted at the door by a woman with restless, sad eyes who wore thick blue glittery eye makeup, smelt faintly of lavender and gasoline and looked at them with a drowning expression. The woman– "call me Glitter"– had let them use her matchbox-sized bathroom and hair-dye, helping them turn Harry into a brunet and Hermione into a blonde. Glitter had then straightened Hermione's wild curls so her newly-dyed hair hung in a flat curtain around her face and used gel to tame Harry's messy hair, adding hairspray to make sure it stayed that way as well as applying concealer to his forehead to cover up his scar.
Bidding Glitter goodbye, Hermione then took them to a public restroom with a still mostly intact mirror and forced him to sit in front of it so she could follow through on her earlier promise of using the same sort of wandless magic she used to untangle her hair to change the length of his. Harry was understandably nervous about this.
"Honestly," she huffed as he squeezed his eyes tight shut, "you'd think I was about to torture you."
"You aren't?" he muttered under his breath though the consequent whack to his shoulder told him he hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought.
-
"You are a genius," Harry told Hermione for about the eighth time as he caught sight of his reflection yet again in a shop window. He looked nothing like himself. Through Hermione and Glitter's efforts his unruly hair actually looked neat; it was now light brown in color and long enough to be brushing against his shoulders. The make-up covered up his scar and Hermione had bought him a cheap pair of square-framed glasses as well as taking him to an op-shop to pick clothes that actually fitted him, unlike the hand-me-downs he received from the Dursleys.
Hermione looked equally as unrecognizable. She was wearing a skirt, pretty white sandals with pink flowers on them, a pink coat and her long, straight hair was light blonde. She'd also used the same glittery eye stuff as Glitter and hair clips shaped like pink butterflies held her bangs out of her eyes.
In other words, she looked nothing like Hermione Granger.
But the crème de la crème of their disguise? Beside them, whistling cheerfully as he walked, was Sting.
"After all," Hermione had said with a sly, clever smile, "people looking for you are going to expect you to either be alone or with me. Nobody's going to be keeping an eye out for a group of three."
Despite their amazing disguises, Harry's stomach still clenched with nerves as they entered the Leakey Cauldron, Sting muttering a few choice words under his breath in amazement after walking into a pub he hadn't been able to see, but Hermione's plan had worked flawlessly.
Looking back, Harry should have realized that with everything going so smoothly, something was just bound to go wrong.
-
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Hermione's POV:
Hermione didn't dare collect her money from the Hogwarts fund having decided not to take the risk of the school somehow being alerted. Instead, Harry had withdrawn enough from his account for both of them.
Despite Sting's constant distraction as the older boy wandered around in wide-eyed in amazement they managed to get their school shopping done relatively quickly. Supplies all bought and shrunk, thanks to the lovely witch in Flourish and Blotts, they stopped at Fortesque's to eat an ice-cream.
Amused, Hermione watched the way Harry's eyes kept moving back to stare at the Quidditch supply shop, the boy almost drooling.
"Oh bloody hell, James, just go!" She sighed, unable to hold it in any longer. Harry jolted in his seat and started blushing.
"I- I don't need–" he started to say but she interrupted him with a stern look.
"James, just go and take a look around. You're going to be Slytherin's seeker, this year– you might need supplies."
"Yeah, wot Janey said," Sting said eagerly.
"You just want to go look at the brooms." Hermione said amused.
"So?" Sting asked smirking at her and she sighed, shaking her head.
"Boys."
Sting and Harry exchanged a look before saying at the exact same time; "Girls."
Reaching over to give them both a good smack over the head, Hermione then stood up and checked her watch. "Okay, James, Sting, you two go look in the Quidditch shop. I'm going to take a quick... side trip."
Both of them narrowed their eyes suspiciously at her. "And what, exactly, does this 'side trip' entail?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Just picking up a few books." She said with a light, breezy smile.
"We already went to Flourish and Blotts," Harry pointed out, "and we spent over an hour in there."
"Yes, well, I'm more interested in the books that Flourish and Blotts doesn't supply." Hermione said meaningfully and Harry's eyes widened momentarily in understanding before narrowing again.
"And where exactly are you going to be getting these books from?" he asked rather pointedly. Hermione debated whether or not to be vague or just omit certain truths then decided to be honest.
"Knockturn Alley." She answered. Harry instantly opened his mouth to protest, having heard more then enough from the other Slytherins to know what a sketchy place it was, but Hermione firmly spoke first. "James, this is important. I promise you that I will not take any unnecessary risks. Trust me, okay?" Harry looked at her, his expression torn, before he nodded.
"First sign of trouble, you get the fuck out of there– promise me." He said fiercely and she nodded.
"Stop picking up swearing from Sting. And yes, I promise."
"If it's tha' bad, d'ya need me as backup?" Sting asked and she and Harry both instantly shook their heads.
"They do not like Muggles there." Harry said at the same time as she said,
"They'd cut you open and sell your organs as potion ingredients if you tried. Besides," she added as Sting gave her an alarmed look, "I thought you wanted to see the broomsticks."
Sting brightened at that and turned to Harry. "Wot yeh waitin' for, James? Let's go!" Giving her hand a quick squeeze, Harry let Sting drag him towards the Quidditch store his expression quickly brightening the closer he got to the building.
Giving both her boys a fond look, Hermione then steeled herself for trouble and made her way towards Knockturn Alley, fully aware of the location and proximity of each of the knives she had on her– three switchblades; one in her boot, one up her sleeve and one on her hip, a butterfly knife up her other sleeve and a pocketknife stashed in her side pocket.
She couldn't help but shiver a little as she entered the alley but she held her head high and walked confidently– and quickly– to the bookstore she'd noticed last time in her brief venture down the shady shopping district.
The store was small and smelt vaguely of mould but it was crammed full of books. Peering closely at one of the nearer titles, Hermione literally jumped as she heard a hoarse, throaty voice from behind her, a switchblade drawn in one swift motion and pointed at the shop owner– or at least who she presumed it was the owner– an old woman with a hunched back and greasy, straggly grey hair pulled back in a messy knot. Her robes were somewhat ragged and Hermione got the feeling that there was something not quite... right about the old woman.
"It's not often I get kids in here– especially without their parents." The woman croaked, sharp eyes fixed on the sharp steel of the switchblade.
"Yes, well, I'm not exactly your usual sort of kid," Hermione answered as she relaxed out of the defensive stance she'd fallen into, though she didn't put away her weapon yet. "Besides, my parents are long dead."
"Ah," the old woman nodded, crooked mouth curling into an amused-looking smile, "and what exactly is it that I can do for you, young Miss?"
"Jane."
"Miss Jane."
"I'd like any books you have on Parselmagic." Hermione said. "I've found my school library to be rather... lacking." The old woman looked even more amused.
"Parselmagic? Now why would you be wanting something like that, little girl?"
"Call it good old fashioned curiosity." Hermione's smile was frostier this time as she let her the switchblade dance between her fingers in a subtle but unmistakable threat and the old woman looked delighted almost, cackling to herself as she shuffled past Hermione and to the back of the shop.
"I may have a book or two, Miss Jane, but they don't come cheap." She warned over her shoulder. Having already expected that, Hermione didn't say anything and just watched.
It took the old woman nearly eight minutes to produce the books. Both were old with cracked leather covers and yellowing pages but Hermione was ready to take whatever it was she could get, curious as to how the magical language worked and what it could do.
"That will be sixteen galleons," the old woman said her eyes gleaming in a predatory sort of way. Relieved by the fact that Harry had inherited such a bloody huge fortune and had seen fit to provide her with a ridiculously huge amount of spending money that actually made her feel dizzy and slightly queasy to think about, she paid the old woman.
Tucking the books in her satchel, Hermione said bid a polite farewell to the shop owner, finally stashing her knife away as she walked out of the thoroughly unpleasant little bookstore and made her way to the pawn shop she'd visited last time.
The owner seemed just as ill-tempered as last time and Hermione wondered whether a requirement for owning a shop in Knockturn Alley was a permanently bad mood and total lack of social skills.
"What do you want?" the man grunted before peering a little closer at her. "Didn't you have brown hair last time, kid?"
"I fancied a change," she smiled blandly back at him. "I'm looking for a bag that can hold more on the inside then the outside. Do you have any?"
"Yep," the man said and rather then hauling his large girth off the chair he muttered a few words under his breath and flicked his wand. An array of different sized bags soared over and landed on the counter before her. "Pick one." The shopkeeper rather unhelpfully directed her.
Hermione let her gaze slide assessingly over each bag before she reached for one of the smaller ones that looked to be made of fake-leather. "How much is this one?"
"Two galleons." Was the grunted reply.
"I'll take it." She decided, thinking the price was probably too steep but not willing to make a fuss.
Glad that she'd finished her shopping in the unpleasant Alley, Hermione exited the shop and started to make her way towards the exit of the Alley which was when a rough-looking man stepped out in front of her, blocking her way. The man had long grey hair, yellow stained teeth and long, ragged nails. His clothes were in terrible condition, like he hadn't washed them in weeks and his feet were bare and Hermione went very still as she saw the hungry look on his face, the way his amber eyes gleamed as they took in her small form.
Hermione was no longer so malnourished that she was just skin and bones but she was still a deceptively delicate-looking slip of a girl, all slender limbs and thin bones in her wrists and eyes too large for her skinny face. What people didn't see realise when they looked at her was that in truth she was all sharp angles and even sharper edges; when they looked at her they didn't see the lean, wiry muscle, the knife scars on her hands and the way the she held herself like a fighter, like a predator.
This man, as he looked at her, only saw the willowy, wispy thing she appeared to be and Hermione could see in his eyes that he thought she was prey.
Fiery-hot anger and fear and fury rose up within Hermione as she took in this man, took in the way he was staring at her, at her body. He was looking at her like she was something for him to use and abuse and then discard when he was done; like her only worth was her flesh and the pleasure it could bring him. He was looking at her the way the monster who'd hurt the little girl whose name Hermione couldn't bear to even think had looked at her; his pants had been around his ankles and there'd been a dead child at his feet yet when he turned to see Hermione staring at him in horror he'd looked at her like she was an object to rape and strangle and leave lying in the trash like she was worthless once he was done.
And then the man spoke.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all the way down here?" He just about crooned, eyes still feasting hungrily on her. She started to take a step back but an inhuman growl escaped the man and his arm snapped out, hand fastening tightly on her forearm. She made herself go still, adrenaline pumping through her body. "Don't be like that, pretty– I just want to play." The man's eyes suddenly sharpened on her face and he shook his hair out of the way. "Oh hello lovely. I remember you. Was wondering if I'd get to see you again."
The loathsome man's smile was feral now and Hermione pushed the useless fear to the back of her mind and let her icy hatred bring sharp clarity to her thoughts as she made and discarded plans in the space of heartbeats, running through scenarios in her head of how best to escape this situation. She settled for the helpless little girl routine that Lacey had taught her to play so well; a protective smokescreen guaranteed to get anyone to take pity on or, more importantly, underestimate her.
"Wait! Please! Don't hurt me!" She begged tearfully, fear bright in her eyes she cowered before the man, her face the very picture of terror. As she'd anticipated, just as so many policemen and opportunistic men had before him, the man relaxed his grip on her and as Hermione cringed back as if she was curling into herself, her free hand slid to her hip and to the blade hidden there.
"Now, where would you get an idea like that? I wouldn't hurt a pretty little thing like you." The man said as he leered down at her. He reached out with his other hand to touch her face and Hermione moved in one swift, practiced motion, drawing her blade and lashing out to slit the man's throat from ear to ear, careful to avoid the resulting arterial spray.
The man made a choking, gurgling noise as he doubled over and she took advantage of his weakened, distracted state to yank her arm out of his grasp with a disgusted look and she allowed herself a moment to watch with cold eyes and a satisfied heart as the man clutched at his ruined throat, blood spurting through the gaps of his fingers. Her lip curled as the man keeled forwards, collapsing onto the ground with a meaty thud. Spite curling up inside her she lashed out with her foot, kicking the man in the jaw with enough force to knock his head back, tearing the neck wound open wider as well as causing an audible crack– she hoped it wasn't his neck breaking; that would be too quick.
"I hope you drown in your own blood." She told the downed man coldly before swiftly moving around him and exiting Knockturn Alley. She flicked her switchblade closed, slipping it into one of the pockets of her pink coat and checked to make sure the blood splatter on her white sandals wasn't too glaringly obvious. Smoothing down her skirt and tucking her long blond hair behind her ears, she put a sweet smile on her face and skipped lightly along the cobbled path of Diagon Alley, the very image of childhood innocence.
-
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Severus's POV:
Severus had seen a lot in his life– so much that very few things fascinated him anymore. Potions was one of those things, with limitless possibilities for discovery and improvement if one tried hard enough and was dedicated enough, and to those who had that spark of intuition and creativity there was very little to keep them from reaching the stars.
Metaphorically, of course.
Which was why, when he wasn't looking abso-fucking-lutely everywhere for his two sneaky, runaway snakes he'd he'd spent his time over the summer holidays brewing potions in the upstairs room of an old "friend's" Apothecary. Compared to the school term, Severus was fairly certain this was what heaven looked like- even with the grimy window offering an even grimier view of Knockturn Alley.
He'd been about to start on a new batch of Draught of Peace when he noticed the child on the street below, a small wisp of girl with long, blond hair wearing a pink muggle jacket, a white skirt and flowery sandals. She had emerged from the bookstore owned by a hag a few moments earlier and proceeded to walk lightly up the street and into Jiggers' Knacks Pawn Shop as if she hadn't a care in the world.
Stupid, idiotic, dunderheaded children, Severus cursed to himself, unable to help the frustrated groan that escaped him. Usually there weren't any kids in Knockturn Alley and when there were, they were most definitely guarded closely by their parents– and for good reason.
Severus groaned again and placed down the stirring rod so he could go save the silly, little girl.
He was just exiting the Apothecary when he heard a familiar voice calling out his name. "Severus!"
Severus quirked an eyebrow as Lucius Malfoy stepped out of Borgin and Burkes. "Lucius."
"I could have sworn I just saw a child go walking by, old friend." Lucius commented.
"I know. I was going to give her directions." He replied shortly. "Hopefully before she runs into Greyback or one of his pack." Lucius nodded, a sneer twisting his aristocratic face.
"She was dressed like a Muggle."
"I'm aware of that." Severus said dryly.
"Are you certain you shouldn't just leave her to the wolves?"
"I'm certain. Granted, I might let her get knocked around for a bit so she learns her lesson not to come down here again." He grumbled, quirking an eyebrow questioningly when Lucius fell into step beside him.
"I do enjoy a little sport every now and again." Lucius waved his hand airily, cane clicking on the cobbled stones in pace with each carefully measured step. "Though it does raise questions when a Professor is willing to let a potential student come to harm." He teased.
"The hot stove teaches best," Severus quipped, prompting an amused chuckle from one of his oldest friends. They rounded the corner together, easily catching sight of the petite blonde child stepping out of Jigger's Knacks Pawn Shop with her hands swinging lightly by her sides and a satchel slung carelessly over her shoulder. Severus frowned– there was something oddly... familiar about the image.
The small girl had barely taken five steps further down the street when an unfortunately familiar man stepped out in front of her, causing her to come to an abrupt halt. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all the way down here?" Greyback's voice carried easily down the alley, the werewolf practically growling when the child immediately started to back away. Quick as lightning, Greyback had a hold of one of her arms. Standing before the werewolf the child looked like a doll, her tiny porcelain arm so fragile looking in his thick, dirty hand. "Don't be like that, pretty– I just want to play."
Greyback's smile suddenly turned feral, and he shook his grey mane out of his face. "Oh hello lovely. I remember you. Was wondering if I'd get to see you again."
"Wait! Please! Don't hurt me!" Severus quickened his pace when the fearful little girl cowered and started pleading, her voice thick with tears– Greyback was going to eat the stupid child for dinner.
"Now where would you get an idea like that? I wouldn't hurt a pretty little thing like you." Crooned the werewolf, the hungry gleam in his eyes telling a very different story as he loosened his grip on the doll-like child curling into herself in her terror, reaching out with a hand to touch her face.
The petite girl struck quickly and with a vengeance– the second the grip on her faltered her free hand shot out. There was a flash of silver and then Greyback was choking and gurgling, a deep wound gaping along his throat. The girl avoided the arterial spray with an ease that spoke of prior experience and ripped her arm free, swiftly moving back. Severus expected her to turn and run, but instead she stood there, watching as Greyback fell to his knees, blood spurting from his neck at an alarming pace.
As Greyback buckled forward onto the ground the girl reared back and kicked the werewolf in the chin– hard– and both Severus and Lucius winced automatically as the action tore the gaping wound slitting Greyback's throat from ear to ear even wider, the blood starting to gush at an even more alarming rate as Greyback gurgled.
"I hope you drown in your own blood." The petite blonde with butterflies clips in her hair said in a cold voice that was much too calm for what had just happened. It was also very familiar.
Severus watched, stunned, as the girl proceeded to step around Greyback's weakly stirring form and continue walking to Diagon Alley like nothing had happened. It was just as she turned out of sight that it finally clicked.
"That was well-done," Lucius commented, sounding reluctantly impressed. "Very well-played. I do believe that child will soon be one of your Slytherins."
"Actually, she already is." Severus said in a strangled voice. "That, my friend, was Miss Hermione Granger."
Lucius raised a surprised brow. "The Hermione Granger? The halfblood girl that Potter's inseparable from? Draco's told me about her– he seems fond of the girl." Lucius then chuckled. "That was extremely vicious– and there was no panicking or hesitation, just cold calculation. She must be quite the Slytherin."
Severus glanced back at Greyback– the werewolf was unconscious and lying in a large pool of his own blood. "Indeed." he agreed. "I'm going to follow her and hope she leads me to Ha– the idiotic Potter brat," he amended as he silently cursed his slip of the tongue. "Would you like to accompany me?"
"Certainly. I welcome extra entertainment." Lucius said, his grey eyes glittering with interest.
Severus half jogged down Knockturn Alley with Lucius a few steps behind him not wanting to lose Granger. He then slowed his pace as he entered Diagon Alley, subtly scanning the crowds for a pink coat and long blonde hair.
He caught sight of Granger standing in front of Gringotts looking bored and not at all like she'd just probably killed a man. She was staring further up the street as if waiting for someone and he shifted closer as Lucius cast an eavesdropping charm on the girl. Granger immediately tensed, hand moving subtly to her pocket as she scanned the crowd with sharp eyes.
"Impressive," Lucius noted. "I didn't think she'd sense my charm."
"If something appears to be either impressive or improbable then it can be guaranteed Miss Granger will accomplish it." Severus said dryly.
They both stopped talking when a pair of boys exited the bank and approached her, one of them older with shaggy sandy-blond hair while the other boy had brown hair that was long enough to brush against his shoulders.
"Didja get ya stuff?" Asked the older boy. He was quite obviously a Muggle and Severus muttered a silent 'thank you' that Granger had had the sense not to let him accompany her to Knockturn; that would have been a fucking disaster.
"It went fine. I found those books I was searching for as well as this bag. It's quite brilliant– there's an unlimited amount of space inside it to store things." Granger pulled a leather bag out of her satchel to show the two boys.
"That's awesome!" Said the younger boy. Severus frowned, concentrating on the brunet for a moment before a smirk crossed his face. He had no idea how the boy had managed to grow his hair that long without magic but that was definitely Harry Potter– he'd recognize those green eyes, Lily's eyes, anywhere. Severus took a moment to bask in his victory before tuning back into the conversation.
"Someone tried to grab me, annoyingly enough. I'm quite glad that you weren't with me– especially you, Sting. Remember what I said before about them chopping you up for potion ingredients? Turns out that was a complete understatement."
"C'mon! Wot's not ter like 'bout us Muggle people?" The older boy– Sting she had called him– protested playfully, tugging on a long piece of blonde hair. Severus snorted quietly even as he noted with a touch of shock how comfortable Granger seemed with the boy's touch– he'd never seen her like that with anyone but Harry.
"Muggle people?" Lucius looked amused as well.
"Do you mean Muggles in specific or just you?" Granger asked dryly.
"Cheeky bitch," Sting scowled as Harry laughed before his– Lily's– eyes turned serious again.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Oh I gave him the helpless, scared little girl routine." Granger said with a light shrug of her thin shoulders. "You know– 'oh please don't hurt me, please mister, I'm so afraid'." She affected the same sweet, pleading voice she'd begged Greyback with, thick with tears and fear.
"Lacey taught ya tha' one, righ'? 'S' a classic– works ev'ry time." Sting snickered but Harry looked concerned and kept pushing.
"You've got blood on your sleeve, Jane."
"Already?" Granger looked dismayed, "I just got this! Urgh, blood never comes out." The Muggle boy laughed again but Harry looked even more concerned.
"Jane," he said and Severus watched as Granger visibly softened and gave Harry a sad sort of smile.
"It's not the first time someone's tried to grab me. I'm fine, I promise." She said gently. "And he's not going to be bothering anyone again."
Severus gritted his teeth because being attacked like Granger had been today shouldn't be something the child was so used to happening to her that she could just shrug it off like nothing had happened. It made him feel sick to think of what sort of living situation she must be in, to be in that kind of danger.
"What if he survives and reports you to the magic police?" Harry asked anxiously and Severus was once again struck uneasy, this time by the ease in which the boy tossed around the idea of Granger having just killed someone. Granger smirked slightly at Harry, her voice teasing as she answered him.
"Do you really think that pervert would just walk into the Ministry of Magic and turn me in? I can see it now; he goes up to an Auror– the magic police– and tells them 'so I just attacked a little girl in a dark alley and I was going to fuck her raw but she slit my throat like the pig I am and I'd like to press charges. Will you kindly take care of it?' Is that about how it would go?"
"Probably," Harry admitted. "Well, except for the bit where he refers to himself as a pig." He added 'helpfully'. Granger shook her head and sighed.
"Oh why do I bother?"
Severus was thrown by the sarcastic narrative. Truthfully, despite Granger's hardness and unspecified past traumas he hadn't really expected the girl to fully understand Greyback's intentions, but 'fuck her raw' left very little to the imagination, making it explicitly clear that the girl fully understood what she'd just avoided. He needed to learn to stop underestimating the girl. And he really needed to stop thinking about those other men who'd tried to grab her so they could 'fuck her raw'. Actually, he needed to stop thinking about the absolutely horrifying, sickening possibility that Granger's past trauma involved her being sexually assaulted altogether.
"Didja get anyfing fun in Sketchy Alley?" The Muggle boy asked conversationally.
"What's wrong with the books I got? They're really rare–" Granger started protesting but the boy interrupted her.
"Fucking shit, Janey. Yer such a fuckin' nerd."
"Well we can't all be illiterate thugs!" Granger protested playfully and Severus was reminded of the curiosity of the Muggle boy and Harry both calling her 'Jane'. He also recalled Granger's signature on the reply she'd sent back to Hogwarts a year ago– H. Jane Granger, she'd signed it. Yet another mystery which was just what he needed in his life.
Severus then had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling when the Muggle boy glanced around, scanning the crowd the same way Granger often did, and his eyes suddenly landed on Lucius.
"Oi, check out blondie! I think tha's th' prettiest man I ever saw!" The grip Lucius had on his cane tightened noticeably and Severus hastily cast a disillusionment charm on himself so that Harry or Granger didn't see and recognize him. That wouldn't do– not when he still needed to find out where they were staying.
Harry gave Lucius a thoughtful look. "Does he remind you of–?"
"Draco?" Granger interrupted him, "he should. That's Lucius Malfoy; Draco's father, James." She added, and Harry blinked while Severus found himself immediately enraged, scowling furiously.
James. She'd just called Harry James. Forcing himself to think rationally before sinking into his rage, Severus went over what he'd just learned in his head. 'Sting' was obviously a nickname. Hermione Granger was being referred to by 'Jane'– her middle name. Harry's choice of the name 'James' was in all probability the boy copying Granger and using his middle name as his... his code name?
"We've spent enough time here," Granger said briskly, "we should get going if we want to get back before it's dark."
"Or we could catch us a cab," Sting grinned, looking unusually excited at the prospect. "Now tha' we got some actual money an' shit."
"Is that what you were doing back in the bank?" Granger asked curiously and Harry blushed.
"I've got this pile of gold I'll never need and I– I wanted to– to help out Sting and Glitter and the others." He mumbled. Sting clapped Harry on the back.
"Gotta luv 'is bleedin' heart," he grinned. "Now how 'bout we go an' catch ourselves tha' cab, yeah?"
"It's barely an hour's walk back," Granger said sharply, "we don't need a bloody cab!"
"Bu' a cab'll be quicker," Sting complained.
"This is why Pike will put someone else in charge of the money when James and I leave." Granger informed the boy. "Maybe Cat– she's good with math."
"Bu' she's just a kid," Sting protested.
"She's fourteen, Sting, and she's been working street corners for around a year and a half now. She's hardly a child." Granger said like there was nothing wrong with what she'd just said when it was actually horrifying. What kind of living environment had the poor child grown up in to consider a fourteen year old prostituting herself as normal?
"Come on, you two," Harry interrupted them sounding amused, "cab or not we do need to get going before it gets dark." Sting and Granger looked unblinkingly at each other until Sting let out a loud, theatrical groan.
"Fine!" He conceded to defeat with poor grace, throwing his arms up in the air, "have yer way, ya Majesty!" Granger looked triumphant.
"Let's get going, then."
Severus, dropping the disillusion once the three were a safe distance away, started following them as Lucius kept pace beside him looking entertained.
The three children walked into the Leakey Cauldron and he followed only to stop short. He couldn't see them anywhere. He blinked in shock as Lucius voiced his thoughts. "Where in Salazar's name did they just disappear?" his old friend asked, raising a slim eyebrow and looking surprised. Severus ground his teeth together.
"They can't be far." He said grimly as he prepared to find the little brats and wring their necks when he did.
-
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Harry's POV:
Harry watched Snape's expression turn from puzzled to annoyed to downright pissed in less then five seconds. He snickered softly and beside him he could see Hermione bite back her own smile. Sting looked more bored then anything, obviously not appreciating have to crouch down in the corner of the small court yard with the three of them packed tighter then sardines so they could all hide under the Invisibility Cloak.
"Good spotting." Hermione murmured to the older boy who gave her a cocky grin.
"Us Muggle people do 'ave our uses, ya know." Harry had to bite his tongue to stop from cracking up; both from the smug look on the older boy's face and the thought that a Muggle had just outwitted Snape.
Turns out that Sting and Hermione had worked out a system for when they were robbing people on the streets. Different gestures meant different things and Sting had given Hermione the sign that he thought they might have been followed.
And, as it turned out, Sting had been right. The moment they'd stepped into the small courtyard outside the Leakey Cauldron Hermione had thrown the Invisibility Cloak over them while Sting clapped a hand over Harry's mouth before he could say anything and pulled him backwards. "We got ourselves a shadow." He'd whispered and Harry had been puzzled for a few seconds then downright shocked when he saw Snape stride through the entrance, the professor obviously on a mission with the elder Malfoy following beside him looking much more relaxed.
"How did you know?" he whispered and Sting grinned.
"I saw 'im make 'imself go invisible when I pointed out blondie. When blondie started followin' us, I took a guess."
"Sting has good instincts," Hermione murmured, smirking as she watched Snape give a frustrated sound and turn to talk to Lucius in a low voice. Lucius looked more amused then anything, something that, by the looks of it, was only adding to Snape's ire.
"How long do you think we're going to have to wait here?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Make yourself comfortable, James. We're going to be here for at least an hour." Hermione said dryly before pulling one of the books she got from Knockturn Alley out of her satchel. Harry looked at the writing and his eyes widened in surprise.
"That's Parselscript!"
"Brilliant deduction," Hermione said without even looking up from the text. "Why do you think I had to go into Knockturn to get it?"
"Good point." Harry sighed before leaning back slightly to take the weight of the balls of his feet and to put him into a better position to read over Hermione's shoulder. Sting muttered something under his breath about 'fucking nerds' and Harry bit back a smile.