People Watching.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

"I just really don't think that it's fair Ravenclaw has to play three games in a row," (Y/n) rambled to Hermione as the two worked. The two worked in the Gryffindor common room. They, respectively, had their immense workload spread out over several tables; Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects (in Hermione's case) and occupations for Muggles (for (Y/n), and file upon file of extensive notes.

"(Y/n), are you a werewolf?" Hermione blurted suddenly.

"What?" (Y/n) asked, the quill that was doing her writing for her coming to an immediate halt.

"Are you a werewolf?" Hermione repeated, finally looking up from her furious scribbling to survey (Y/n)'s next moves.

"Of course not! Where even did you get that idea? I don't think I can be both an Animagi and a werewolf, Hermione, can I?" Hermione hummed, her lips quipping up as she returned to her work. "I don't like the tone of your voice! It's like you know something that I don't!"

"I'm pretty sure that what I do know is something that you already know," Hermione said vaguely. "But why are you always sneaking out at night?" she pressed. 

"Hermione, how good are you at keeping secrets?" (Y/n) asked.

"Well, I'd say I'm pretty good. Not a single soul knows about you-know-what," Hermione said.

"All right," (Y/n) leaned over. "Remus is a werewolf," she whispered.

"I know," Hermione chirped. (Y/n), who already had her suspicions, nodded. "But how does that relate to you?"

"I'm a... guardian, per se," (Y/n) said. "I keep him company during his transformations and then I bring him to Madam Pomfrey after the transformation." Hermione nodded slowly.

"Is that why you became an Animagus?"

"Partially."

"Wait— So you've known for a year?"

"About," (Y/n) answered. "And becoming one sounded like a fun challenge. You know that it took James up until his fifth year? Pretty impressive on my part, huh?" (Y/n)'s hand flew over her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Before Hermione got the chance to say anything, Harry strolled over. 

"Can I sit down?" Harry asked.

"I suppose so," Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ("Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity"), and at the rune translation Hermione was now poring over. For (Y/n), she was doing her Muggle Studies portfolio on an occupation she would like and her magical quill was filling out her Herbology care sheets.
"How are you getting through this stuff?" Harry asked them.

"Oh, well— you know— working hard," said Hermione. Close-up, Harry saw that the both of them looked very tired.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry suggested, watching Hermione lift books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" Hermione said, looking scandalized.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favourite subject! It's—"

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder— and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.