FIC: Asked and Answered - Hermione/Regulus - PG
Title: Asked and Answered
Character(s): Hermione/Regulus
Prompt: tomorrow is something we remember
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2011
Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me; I’m just playing with their imaginary lives for fun, not for profit.
Summary: Truth is a catalyst.
Author's Notes: part four in the semi-series for 7spells.
~*~*~
He didn’t know how Hermione knew there was a basilisk living in a secret chamber underneath the school. Or how she’d known where the entrance to the said chamber was. Or how she’d known how to open it and had prepared a potion he’d never even heard of in order to actually do so.
Nor was he about to ask.
The only thing that currently mattered to him was that the damnable snake-like monster they were next to remain slumbering while they finished milking its venom with the use of two extraordinarily large glass jars, lidded with thick, rubbery cloths he couldn’t identify.
It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t trust the potency of the spell Hermione had used on the basilisk from behind, but…he wanted to live. Was that so very wrong?
“That should be enough,” he heard her whisper, and was thankful that she wasn’t taking her spell for granted either.
She slowly eased her jar off of one of the serpent’s giant fangs and motioned with a nod of her head that he should do the same.
He held his breath as he did so.
One wrong move and he’d end up like the little white mice they kept at the pet store in Diagon Alley.
There was no shame in fear - it was at the core of every living creature’s survival instinct, after all - but…
But Hermione hadn’t seemed afraid. Cautious, certainly, but not afraid.
Regulus was quite sure her hands hadn’t trembled like his were doing, at any rate.
“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, albeit in a supremely hushed voice.
The jar suddenly steadied in his grasp when she beamed a smile at him. He wondered what that meant.
They made the journey back to the entrance in silence, but for him it was contemplative rather than uncomfortable. More and more, it seemed like there were a lot of things he didn’t know about Hermione.
Like how she knew the ghost who now haunted the girls’ lavatory had been killed by the basilisk at someone’s command. That piece of trivia wasn’t something she could have learned from any of the several books she read. Hogwarts: A History was the only such text that covered the spirits who resided in the castle walls, and it wasn’t in there - he would have seen it.
Bother.
He was going to have to gather what little courage he had to ask her about it. About everything.
The problem was: he’d tried very hard to ignore his curiosity and to just go along with what she said up until that point. His insecurity ruled him the majority of the time, and he still couldn’t quite believe that the most amazing, intelligent, beautiful witch he’d ever met wanted to associate with him. He didn’t want to rock the boat.
But…well, he needed answers. He just did.
If he was going to continue on this noble, but undeniably insane, quest of hers, he needed to know everything she knew, and what (or who) the source of her information was.
Regulus waited until they were safely back in the lavatory and Hermione sealed the entrance with a few hissed words of Parseltongue that sounded positively wrong coming out of her cupid’s bow mouth, before broaching the subject.
He may have been impatiently inquisitive, but he wasn’t suicidal. There was no way he was willing to risk the monster beneath the surface waking up and coming straight for him because the sound of his voice had been the thing to rouse him.
“Hermione…”
Then she kissed him.
He nearly dropped his jar of venom in shock, but she pulled away, smiled again, and took it from him to set on a nearby counter next to her own.
He could have sworn she murmured, “Victory,” in a reverent tone while she gazed upon the two jars, but before he could question her about it, she turned to face him with a shine in her eyes that he’d never seen before.
“Hermione?”
Her draw of breath was audible. “I think we need to talk.”
Regulus frowned and his gut twisted. He’d never been in a relationship before, but he’d observed enough of them to know those words generally signaled the death knoll.
Great. She probably thought he was a complete loser for not kissing her back. But it wasn’t his fault! It was just that it was over so quickly that he’d barely had time to process what happened, let alone reciprocate.
Fuck!
If she’d only give him another chance…
Hermione took a swift glance around. “Not here. The walls have ears.”
Right. The ghost, he thought. Well, it was nice of her to not want to subject his humiliation to anyone else.
He nodded and motioned for her to lead the way, picking up a jar of venom on his way to the door. The expression on her face caused his twisting stomach to knot.
Whatever she had to say, it didn’t look like it was going to be good.
~*~*~
She told him it was important when he hesitated in the hallway, but he had no idea how important. He entertained the most morbid thoughts possible first, as she dragged him through the corridors to some unknown destination.
She didn’t want anything more to do with him…
She knew he liked her and she didn’t want to lead him on because her family had already promised her to someone else…
The fantasies that she returned his feelings of ‘more than friendship’, and that the kiss had been more than just the end effect of the adrenaline she’d built up, were short-lived and rapidly gave way to a foreboding feeling when logic reared its ugly head and his insecurities took center stage once again.
But in all his horrendous musings, he’d never imagined what she’d just told him.
There was no way he could have.
~She was Muggle-born…from the future…he originally joined the Death Eaters, rebelled, and been killed…Voldemort had made Horcruxes…she knew a way to destroy them…thought he should know before agreeing to go any further because she liked him, and didn’t want him to resent her later…~
As if he could.
The most amazing witch he’d ever met just told him that she liked him (not platonically, she’d stammered out with a blush) and elaborated on the plan she’d concocted to destroy the Dark Lord.
That she was from the future did bother him a bit (although it also explained a great many things), but only because he didn’t want to change the timeline so much that it meant she wouldn’t come to the past in the first place.
Hermione assured him that wasn’t how it worked, and even proceeded to give him a mini-lecture on something called ‘Theoretical Quantum Physics’ to back up her assurance.
He didn’t follow a word of it, but he tried, and he nodded along dutifully when she stressed certain key points.
She gave him a shy grin at the end, having realized that she’d gone off on a rather long tangent, and then cleared her throat and looked away from him. “And the other part?” she asked in the quietest voice he’d ever heard her use.
It didn’t suit her.
“Other part?” Regulus echoed dumbly, wading through the multitude of the material he now had in his mind to try and figure out what she was talking about.
“You’ve said yourself that your family isn’t fond of Muggle-borns,” Hermione prodded reluctantly.
Oh.
Regulus blinked and then stared at her. That she could think…
He swallowed nervously and slowly moved toward her. The ‘Room of Requirement’ as she’d called it (he made a mental note to ask her more about it later) may have afforded them privacy, but he still had an audience of one, and didn’t know if he possessed the courage to say how he felt out loud.
So he didn’t.
He might not have been the most outspoken member of his house, but his time in Slytherin had taught him tactics that he instinctually fell back on in a pinch; and if ever there was a time for his instinct to kick in, it was now.
“If my parents ask, we always have your lie about the Newcastle Grangers to fall back on,” he sidestepped skillfully.
“It’s not completely a lie. I’ve done some digging, and it seems that I am related to them, albeit considerably more distantly than I've led people to believe.” She gave her head a quick shake and met his eyes with unwavering determination. She would not let him dissuade her from the answer she needed. “That’s not the point, anyway. I don’t care about your parents.”
That made two of them.
“How do you feel about it?”
Okay, so he hadn’t been quite as skillful as he’d thought.
Damn.
But what was he supposed to do? Quote all the sources that made his reach his theory about purebloods and how interbreeding would eventually cause them to lose their magic, but not before their health and sanity? She’d think he only wanted her as a brood mare.
Somehow, he thought she’d take offense to that.
“I don’t share my family’s prejudices,” he managed to get out. “I used to, I guess; because I didn’t know any better. But I pay attention to things, Hermione. Being unpopular…”
“Regulus…”
He held off her protest with a raised palm. “It’s fine. My point was that it’s allowed me to see things other people don’t because I blend into the crowd. No one ever notices me watching them. Well…except you.”
He cleared his throat roughly. “Anyway,” he hastily added, lest he be tempted to get off topic again by asking her about that, “I’ve seen that they’re wrong - my parents, that is. I’ve read up on it too. The most magically gifted witches and wizards out there are the ones who have mixed blood in their line, three generations back or newer. Did you know that Dumbledore’s mother was a half-blood? I know that doesn’t seem like a good example since he gives every impression that he’s a little off in the head; but he’s powerful, Hermione. Never doubt it. Mixed blood means stronger blood.”
Hermione’s lips quirked into a smile, but she took him quite by surprise when she leapt to close the space between them and wrapped her arms around him in an emotional embrace.
Regulus stood stock-still for all of the two seconds the hug lasted. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have liked to return it, but…
It was similar to the kiss back in the lavatory. It had caught him by surprise, so he wasn’t prepared for it.
That, and he’d grown up in a family that didn’t give a great deal of physical contact (aside from beatings), and he wasn’t sure to react to someone who was now offering it so openly.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling away from him. “I didn’t…” she trailed off as color filled her cheeks, and she seemed to be looking at the wall behind him rather than facing him head on. “I didn’t even think to ask…I mean…”
Good gods.
She thought he didn’t like her.
Unbelievable.
He’d been so focused on his perception of her that he never noticed that she…was like him. To a lesser degree, perhaps, but there was some spark of insecurity that lay beneath the surface; only identifiable to those who possessed it as well.
“I…you…” he stuttered in shock.
His eyes fixed on her teeth anxiously raking over her lower lip, and before he knew it, his body had made the decision of what to do for him. He found himself close to her once again, dipping his head down to meet her mouth with his own.
The kiss was soft, sweet…tentative.
And managed to set every inch of his skin on fire.
He would never forget the moment for as long as he lived.
And given what still lay ahead of them, he knew he’d remember tomorrow, and all the days he had with her in the future, as well.
Character(s): Hermione/Regulus
Prompt: tomorrow is something we remember
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2011
Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me; I’m just playing with their imaginary lives for fun, not for profit.
Summary: Truth is a catalyst.
Author's Notes: part four in the semi-series for 7spells.
~*~*~
He didn’t know how Hermione knew there was a basilisk living in a secret chamber underneath the school. Or how she’d known where the entrance to the said chamber was. Or how she’d known how to open it and had prepared a potion he’d never even heard of in order to actually do so.
Nor was he about to ask.
The only thing that currently mattered to him was that the damnable snake-like monster they were next to remain slumbering while they finished milking its venom with the use of two extraordinarily large glass jars, lidded with thick, rubbery cloths he couldn’t identify.
It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t trust the potency of the spell Hermione had used on the basilisk from behind, but…he wanted to live. Was that so very wrong?
“That should be enough,” he heard her whisper, and was thankful that she wasn’t taking her spell for granted either.
She slowly eased her jar off of one of the serpent’s giant fangs and motioned with a nod of her head that he should do the same.
He held his breath as he did so.
One wrong move and he’d end up like the little white mice they kept at the pet store in Diagon Alley.
There was no shame in fear - it was at the core of every living creature’s survival instinct, after all - but…
But Hermione hadn’t seemed afraid. Cautious, certainly, but not afraid.
Regulus was quite sure her hands hadn’t trembled like his were doing, at any rate.
“Brilliant!” she exclaimed, albeit in a supremely hushed voice.
The jar suddenly steadied in his grasp when she beamed a smile at him. He wondered what that meant.
They made the journey back to the entrance in silence, but for him it was contemplative rather than uncomfortable. More and more, it seemed like there were a lot of things he didn’t know about Hermione.
Like how she knew the ghost who now haunted the girls’ lavatory had been killed by the basilisk at someone’s command. That piece of trivia wasn’t something she could have learned from any of the several books she read. Hogwarts: A History was the only such text that covered the spirits who resided in the castle walls, and it wasn’t in there - he would have seen it.
Bother.
He was going to have to gather what little courage he had to ask her about it. About everything.
The problem was: he’d tried very hard to ignore his curiosity and to just go along with what she said up until that point. His insecurity ruled him the majority of the time, and he still couldn’t quite believe that the most amazing, intelligent, beautiful witch he’d ever met wanted to associate with him. He didn’t want to rock the boat.
But…well, he needed answers. He just did.
If he was going to continue on this noble, but undeniably insane, quest of hers, he needed to know everything she knew, and what (or who) the source of her information was.
Regulus waited until they were safely back in the lavatory and Hermione sealed the entrance with a few hissed words of Parseltongue that sounded positively wrong coming out of her cupid’s bow mouth, before broaching the subject.
He may have been impatiently inquisitive, but he wasn’t suicidal. There was no way he was willing to risk the monster beneath the surface waking up and coming straight for him because the sound of his voice had been the thing to rouse him.
“Hermione…”
Then she kissed him.
He nearly dropped his jar of venom in shock, but she pulled away, smiled again, and took it from him to set on a nearby counter next to her own.
He could have sworn she murmured, “Victory,” in a reverent tone while she gazed upon the two jars, but before he could question her about it, she turned to face him with a shine in her eyes that he’d never seen before.
“Hermione?”
Her draw of breath was audible. “I think we need to talk.”
Regulus frowned and his gut twisted. He’d never been in a relationship before, but he’d observed enough of them to know those words generally signaled the death knoll.
Great. She probably thought he was a complete loser for not kissing her back. But it wasn’t his fault! It was just that it was over so quickly that he’d barely had time to process what happened, let alone reciprocate.
Fuck!
If she’d only give him another chance…
Hermione took a swift glance around. “Not here. The walls have ears.”
Right. The ghost, he thought. Well, it was nice of her to not want to subject his humiliation to anyone else.
He nodded and motioned for her to lead the way, picking up a jar of venom on his way to the door. The expression on her face caused his twisting stomach to knot.
Whatever she had to say, it didn’t look like it was going to be good.
~*~*~
She told him it was important when he hesitated in the hallway, but he had no idea how important. He entertained the most morbid thoughts possible first, as she dragged him through the corridors to some unknown destination.
She didn’t want anything more to do with him…
She knew he liked her and she didn’t want to lead him on because her family had already promised her to someone else…
The fantasies that she returned his feelings of ‘more than friendship’, and that the kiss had been more than just the end effect of the adrenaline she’d built up, were short-lived and rapidly gave way to a foreboding feeling when logic reared its ugly head and his insecurities took center stage once again.
But in all his horrendous musings, he’d never imagined what she’d just told him.
There was no way he could have.
~She was Muggle-born…from the future…he originally joined the Death Eaters, rebelled, and been killed…Voldemort had made Horcruxes…she knew a way to destroy them…thought he should know before agreeing to go any further because she liked him, and didn’t want him to resent her later…~
As if he could.
The most amazing witch he’d ever met just told him that she liked him (not platonically, she’d stammered out with a blush) and elaborated on the plan she’d concocted to destroy the Dark Lord.
That she was from the future did bother him a bit (although it also explained a great many things), but only because he didn’t want to change the timeline so much that it meant she wouldn’t come to the past in the first place.
Hermione assured him that wasn’t how it worked, and even proceeded to give him a mini-lecture on something called ‘Theoretical Quantum Physics’ to back up her assurance.
He didn’t follow a word of it, but he tried, and he nodded along dutifully when she stressed certain key points.
She gave him a shy grin at the end, having realized that she’d gone off on a rather long tangent, and then cleared her throat and looked away from him. “And the other part?” she asked in the quietest voice he’d ever heard her use.
It didn’t suit her.
“Other part?” Regulus echoed dumbly, wading through the multitude of the material he now had in his mind to try and figure out what she was talking about.
“You’ve said yourself that your family isn’t fond of Muggle-borns,” Hermione prodded reluctantly.
Oh.
Regulus blinked and then stared at her. That she could think…
He swallowed nervously and slowly moved toward her. The ‘Room of Requirement’ as she’d called it (he made a mental note to ask her more about it later) may have afforded them privacy, but he still had an audience of one, and didn’t know if he possessed the courage to say how he felt out loud.
So he didn’t.
He might not have been the most outspoken member of his house, but his time in Slytherin had taught him tactics that he instinctually fell back on in a pinch; and if ever there was a time for his instinct to kick in, it was now.
“If my parents ask, we always have your lie about the Newcastle Grangers to fall back on,” he sidestepped skillfully.
“It’s not completely a lie. I’ve done some digging, and it seems that I am related to them, albeit considerably more distantly than I've led people to believe.” She gave her head a quick shake and met his eyes with unwavering determination. She would not let him dissuade her from the answer she needed. “That’s not the point, anyway. I don’t care about your parents.”
That made two of them.
“How do you feel about it?”
Okay, so he hadn’t been quite as skillful as he’d thought.
Damn.
But what was he supposed to do? Quote all the sources that made his reach his theory about purebloods and how interbreeding would eventually cause them to lose their magic, but not before their health and sanity? She’d think he only wanted her as a brood mare.
Somehow, he thought she’d take offense to that.
“I don’t share my family’s prejudices,” he managed to get out. “I used to, I guess; because I didn’t know any better. But I pay attention to things, Hermione. Being unpopular…”
“Regulus…”
He held off her protest with a raised palm. “It’s fine. My point was that it’s allowed me to see things other people don’t because I blend into the crowd. No one ever notices me watching them. Well…except you.”
He cleared his throat roughly. “Anyway,” he hastily added, lest he be tempted to get off topic again by asking her about that, “I’ve seen that they’re wrong - my parents, that is. I’ve read up on it too. The most magically gifted witches and wizards out there are the ones who have mixed blood in their line, three generations back or newer. Did you know that Dumbledore’s mother was a half-blood? I know that doesn’t seem like a good example since he gives every impression that he’s a little off in the head; but he’s powerful, Hermione. Never doubt it. Mixed blood means stronger blood.”
Hermione’s lips quirked into a smile, but she took him quite by surprise when she leapt to close the space between them and wrapped her arms around him in an emotional embrace.
Regulus stood stock-still for all of the two seconds the hug lasted. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have liked to return it, but…
It was similar to the kiss back in the lavatory. It had caught him by surprise, so he wasn’t prepared for it.
That, and he’d grown up in a family that didn’t give a great deal of physical contact (aside from beatings), and he wasn’t sure to react to someone who was now offering it so openly.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling away from him. “I didn’t…” she trailed off as color filled her cheeks, and she seemed to be looking at the wall behind him rather than facing him head on. “I didn’t even think to ask…I mean…”
Good gods.
She thought he didn’t like her.
Unbelievable.
He’d been so focused on his perception of her that he never noticed that she…was like him. To a lesser degree, perhaps, but there was some spark of insecurity that lay beneath the surface; only identifiable to those who possessed it as well.
“I…you…” he stuttered in shock.
His eyes fixed on her teeth anxiously raking over her lower lip, and before he knew it, his body had made the decision of what to do for him. He found himself close to her once again, dipping his head down to meet her mouth with his own.
The kiss was soft, sweet…tentative.
And managed to set every inch of his skin on fire.
He would never forget the moment for as long as he lived.
And given what still lay ahead of them, he knew he’d remember tomorrow, and all the days he had with her in the future, as well.