A/N: I write this surrounded by a half dozen younger siblings. Bear with me.

–

Hermione always had a book with her at supper, usually whatever she and Severus were reading together; this evening was no different from every other before it. The night's read was a lightly fictionalized (the author called it "enhanced," which made him about seventy times as honest as Gilderoy Lockhart, Hermione had thought to herself with a grin when she first picked it up) autobiography detailing a young charms apprentice's journey of self-discovery, both academic (which she felt was truthful) and romantic (which she felt may have been slightly exaggerated- Hermione herself was far from enough of a fool to believe whole-heartedly that the stocky young man would have women falling at his feet in the manner he described).

Regardless of content, this book was the reason Hermione never saw Lily Evans approaching her and didn't have time to scare her off with a glare or raised eyebrows. She didn't notice the redhead until it was too late- Lily was coughing quietly to get her attention.

Hermione's head snapped up from her book, and without turning to make eye contact with Lily, she blurted, "What, Evans?"

"I heard you're going with Remus for Valentine's Day." Although she was still not looking at the girl, Hermione knew that, at this moment, Lily was either looking down at her nails pretending to be disinterested or staring at her, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. She was entirely too irritating for Hermione to ever want to deal with, but there they were.

"Yes, Evans." Hermione was still obstinately refusing to turn to make eye contact with Lily, despite the girl's repeated small cough. "Why does this concern you?"

"I'd just hate to see Remus get hurt," Lily drawled, either not noticing or ignoring Hermione's eye roll. "I don't want him to get involved with the wrong sort of girl, you know."

Hermione nearly gave herself whiplash, she turned her head to glare at Lily so quickly. "Am I the wrong sort of girl, Evans?" As predicted, Lily was staring down at her own nails. "I may not be some pretty little twit with perfect cuticles," Hermione growled, "but at least I have the heart to stay friends with someone instead of quitting the moment it gets tricky. I know things about Remus," she continued, her voice even lower now, "that would make someone like you run away screaming her head off. And no amount of your mucking around in other people's business will prevent me from going to Hogsmeade with Remus," she finished with her voice back to a normal level.

Lily gave a small "Hmph!" before standing and walking to her own spot of the table, nestled in with her girlfriends near the Maruaders themselves. If Remus (or any of the other Marauders) had heard their conversation, they were giving no signs of it. Indeed, they seemed completely caught up in their own; undoubtedly they were planning some ridiculous new prank or other. They were the Weasley twins without the business savvy, Hermione thought wickedly.

—

Further down the table, however, the Marauders were not discussing their latest plan to drive their professors utterly mad. No, the four were reviewing the near-catfight they had just witnessed. Despite Hermione's expectations (and hopes), they knew exactly what was said. It wasn't by pure happenstance, of course; no, the boys had planned the whole ordeal. It was all James's idea, really.

"I'm telling you," he'd said that afternoon at lunch, "it's foolproof. Who does Hermione hate more than anyone?"

"Sirius?" Sirius had asked, prompting a reluctant chuckle from Remus.

"No, no," James had said, waving his friend's answer off. "More than you!"

"Lily," Remus had admitted quietly, folding his arms across his chest. It wasn't something he was looking forward to dealing with, but if that was what having a relationship with Hermione meant, he was ready to do it. She was wickedly funny, pretty enough, and smart as a whip- everything he could ever want in a woman. He intended to keep her around, and by Merlin, if he had to, he'd—

"So if we want her to do something, namely, not back out of a date with you…" James had led Remus.

"Get Lily to tell her not to do it," Remus had agreed with a grimace. It made the perfect amount of sense, but it felt so dirty and manipulative— more Slytherin than his Gryffindor sensibilities were comfortable with. But then again, she hung around Snape all the time, and he was a snake. "All right, let's do it."

Getting Lily to do her part had been easy enough. All they had to do was let slip that Remus had asked her out to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day, and the rest she did of her own accord. James had known she'd have Remus's "best interests" at heart. (Remus had known Lily would do anything to rob Hermione of some small potential piece of happiness… in addition to protecting him.)

—

"So you're really going to get involved with Lupin?" Severus asked for what seemed the millionth time that day. He had to be sure, had to make certain to himself that she wasn't kidding.

"It's just a date, Severus," Hermione replied, just as she had when he'd asked outside breakfast before… and after, as well as before lunch, after their third class, and both before and directly after dinner. He had now found her in the library studying for a Potions test (why she felt the need to study, he'd never know; she was certainly already well-versed in the material) and felt the need to check in again. What did she see in him? "Besides, that chit Evans doesn't want me to go, so I have to. I won't give her the satisfaction of thinking she scared me off him." Oh, right. That.

Despite the fact that the girls' rows were commonplace— practically regularly scheduled once a week; there was always some sort of bad blood between the two of them— the school never failed to light up over them. For some reason, the idea of Lily Evans and Hermione Abagnale having it out enthralled many of the older students, of all houses. Severus had a feeling that many of the males enjoyed it for the way the two looked when they got all riled up (something that he, as a teenaged young man, would admit to himself— and no one else— he had not failed to notice himself), while a large number of the females just loved the drama. Not all of the girls, mind you, but a fair amount. In any case, the (elder half of the) school's obsession had once again let even Severus in on the fact that there had been yet another argument. He didn't know the details (the gossip train rarely held those, and when it did, they were never quite accurate), but he wasn't exactly about to ask Hermione to tell him all about it. He'd just have to live with himself not knowing.

—

"Miss Abagnale," Professor McGonagall called from the front of the room near the end of class, "please come here." There was a soft ooh around the room as though she were in trouble. It was cut off quickly by McGonagall's drawn brows and slight frown away from the girl and towards the class in general. "Professor Dumbledore wished to see you once I was through with you," she said quietly. "You may go now, if you wish."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied, nodding obediently. Some things had been easier to get used to than others when it came to being a student in the past, and one of those was definitely obeying and respecting Minerva McGonagall. Although in the beginning she had been slightly wary of Hermione (a new student already so far into a certain method of education— who knew what she could be accustomed to in terms of discipline?!), between her eager disassociation from the Marauders, in McGonagall's classroom at least, her easy friendship with the bullied young potions genius, and the near-perfection of both her schoolwork and her disciplinary record, the professor had eventually grown quite fond of the girl… or, if not quite fond, at least rather approving.

Hermione quickly and quietly gathered her things before making her way out of the room. Sirius made a face of horror at her, and once she'd double-checked that McGonagall was looking down at her desk, Hermione flashed him the bird. Sirius simply chuckled silently, and Remus gave her a half-hearted wave and a small smile. She smiled back at Remus before hurrying out. What on earth could Dumbledore want with her? By the time she reached his office, her mind was racing— had he discovered a way home for her? Would she take it? She paused. Would… would she want to go home? She missed Harry and Ron and everyone else terribly, of course, but she was making a new home here.

She told herself to push it to the back of her mind until she knew whether or not that decision was even on the table and instead focused on the problem immediately at hand: the gargoyle. McGonagall had failed to give her a password, and Hermione had very little idea what it could be. "Erm… licorice?" The gargoyle remained stone-faced, for lack of a better term. "Lemon drops!" Nothing. "Oh, for Merlin's sake… chocolate eggs?" The gargoyle gave her a slight nod and moved aside. Up the familiar stairs she went, up and up and up until she found herself face to face with the door to Dumbledore's office.

Before she could even lift her arm to knock on the large wooden door leading in, the Headmaster called out, "Come in, Miss Abagnale." For the first time in months, she shuddered at being called Abagnale rather than Abagnale. The name Abagnale had become such a fixture in who she was: Sirius would tell her what a silly maiden name it was and how he should really take his surname, Severus would playfully (well, as playfully as that boy could really get) call her by her full name when she got herself into "trouble" with him, and every professor in this time addressed her as such. It was only when Dumbledore said the word that she got shivers and felt it wasn't quite right. In she stepped nevertheless.

"Miss Abagnale," he began, ignoring her slight twitch of the eye, "I have a proposition for you."

She waited for him to continue, but after a moment of silence it became clear he was looking for some sort of sign from her to go on. "Proposition, sir?"

"I recall that in your time, you were involved with a student-led resistance of sorts," Dumbledore said, peering over his glasses in that trademark manner of his.

Hermione blushed slightly. "Well, sir, that wasn't really— I mean, it was— it was sort of an illegal study group, you know. It was only a resistance against a specific—"

"Against a specific Ministry policy, under the nose of the official charged with enforcing it," Dumbledore finished for her. He continued with a slight smile. "Whether you wish to admit it or not, Miss Abagnale, that does constitute experience with a resistance group… of sorts," he qualified, if only to appease her, as her mouth had flown open once again.

Hermione was struggling to understand how this was at all relevant to anything he could be proposing to her. "What does this have to do with your proposition, Professor?"

"Ah, yes!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together, clearly excited by whatever it was he had in store for her. "I understand you are seventeen years of age, yes?" At her slight (and confused) nod, he continued. "What do you know of the Order of the Phoenix?" Hermione's jaw dropped, her mouth forming a small "o". She could be a member of the group that fought— would fight— Lord Voldemort. "From your reaction, I assume you know their purpose." All Hermione could do was nod, mouth still wide open. "As you satisfy the age requirement— you have since September, yes?—" This time he didn't even wait for her to nod a confirmation— "it would be no problem for you to begin your training. This is not simply because you are from another time, Miss Abagnale," he said seriously, leaning in over his desk to make eye contact with her. "I am aware you can change nothing. I genuinely believe you to be a valuable asset to our cause: you are a brilliant young woman armed with a veritable arsenal of spells." At her slight blush, he smiled. "Yes, your Professors have been bragging about you. Your little 'illegal study group,' as it were, has clearly served you well. What say you? Are you willing to serve in the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes," Hermione said, having come out of her trance at last. "Absolutely, of course."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "All we need is a safe meeting place for you and Alastor Moody to—"

"Moody?" Hermione suddenly felt ready to faint.

—

Multi-Chap Boot Camp Prompt 32: A meeting place