A/N: This was written before DH, and just had the finishing touches put on it today. I didn't expect it to be this long, but it did end up like that, but I'm sure nobody will complain. Anyone who reads By Any Other Name, I'm so sorry. The only HP stuff I've been able to write recently is this and another very short fic which I shall be posting shortly. However, The Deathly Hallows has given me a massive kick up the arse and I've got my inspiration back, so all is well. Read, review, but most importantly, enjoy.
Also, something about the line breaks is messing things up and bit keep getting missed out. It's only by chance that I've come across two of them, but if you see any parts that start or end abruptly, let me knew and I'll fix them (if need be). I must say it is annoying, the opening paragraph of two stories I posted yesterday went walkabouts, and they're probably the most important things you'll read, because they'll urge you to continue.
Moments.
by Flaignhan.
She stepped nervously out of the fireplace and into the kitchen, which was hosting a table full of witches and wizards, some she recognised, some she didn't. They all looked up at her, startled and silent, as though she had walked in on them whilst they had been talking about her. She knew they hadn't of course; she wasn't arrogant enough to think that.
"Erm…" she began unsurely, one hand still gripping the handle of her trunk. "Ron said to come around half past five?" She looked at her watch and saw that it was indeed, half past five, and she had double and triple checked that today was the date she was supposed to be here. Her eyes fell on the person sitting closest to her and she smiled.
"Hermione! How's your summer been?" Sirius stood up and wrapped his arms around her in a friendly hug.
"Not too bad I suppose, but…what's going on? Ron said he'd explain when-"
"Sorry Hermione, dear, the meeting's overrun, but if you go upstairs, first door on the left I'm sure Ron'll be in there and he'll explain all he can." Hermione turned to Mrs Weasley, who had stood up halfway along the table, looking more tired and thinner than she remembered. "We'll be having dinner in a couple of hours, once the meeting's over, ok?" Hermione nodded and proceeded to drag her trunk past all the witches and wizards in the room who watched her as she squeezed behind the backs of their chairs. Sirius waved his wand and Hermione's trunk begun to hover, following along behind her. She smiled her thanks and closed the kitchen door and began to make her way slowly up the stairs. Not the welcome she had been expecting, but she supposed it was better than a whack in the face with a hot poker.
"So…Ron said this was your house," she said quietly to Sirius, much later. They were sitting in the dusty room which had once been a grand library, with gleaming oak bookshelves and ancient leather-bound books. He had found her exploring after Ron and Ginny had gone to bed. She told him she couldn't sleep, not after all what Ron, and later Sirius and Lupin had explained to her, her mind was running overtime.
"Yeah, unfortunately," he said darkly, sitting down on one of the sheet covered settees, great clouds of dust puffing out from under him. She sat down softly at the other end of the sofa and contemplated him for a moment before talking.
"You didn't like it as a child?" he shook his head. "Why not? I mean, it's not got exactly the most pleasant décor, what with the elf heads and trolls' feet, but I mean, for a start you can get lost in here for hours, and I can't imagine it was an uncomfortable place in its day…" Sirius shook his head again, the corners of his mouth twitching in disagreement.
"It's not the house, it's the memories attached to it. I was trapped here when I was a child, I get locked in Azkaban for thirteen years, and now I'm trapped back here again as an adult. It's not…not the way I thought things would be, back when I was your age. I thought I'd be going off on this great adventure after Hogwarts with James, we'd get a place of our own, have parties every night, squander our inheritances, all of that. But then Voldemort came to power and it fell to pieces. He married Lily, everyone was rushing into it in those days," he caught sight of Hermione's slight frown, "oh no, those two were going to be together forever. Have you ever looked at a couple and thought they were just perfect? That they'd never go their separate ways?" Hermione smiled softly, remembering one of her cousins' weddings, a few years ago, "well that was Lily and James. And then Lily got pregnant, and things became serious, and…well, you probably know the rest." He sighed and Hermione bit her lip, for once, not knowing what to say. "Still," he said, after a moment's thought, "gone now." Hermione nodded, remaining silent. "You'd have liked Lily," he told her, "she was so much like you. Brilliant, only word for it. So intelligent, even me and James had a hard time keeping up with her," Hermione laughed and he allowed himself a small chuckle at the memory. "I'm glad Harry's got you, Hermione. And Ron too, of course. So many people go through this life without having ever had real, true friends. I bet there's only a handful of Slytherins who have ever had a friendship like you three have, like me, James and Remus had, and I'm just glad, that he's had you two there for him."
"Are you all right Sirius?" he looked up at her, his eyes looking a little too bright.
"Yeah, fine, just getting a little too sentimental, that's all." He sighed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his ankles, hands held loosely together and resting against his thin frame. "Go on, off to bed. Molly lets you all have a break from cleaning on a Sunday, so you'd best be awake to enjoy it."
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, pressing him a little further, although moving forwards slightly for when she would get up.
"Fine, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning." She took the hint and left him to his own devices in the dully lit library, the orange glow from the streetlamp outside not being enough to make visibility very good.
She trudged up the stairs to the room she would be sharing with Ginny and opened the door quietly, toeing her slippers off and getting into the cold bed, looking out the window at the lights of distant skyscrapers until she fell asleep.
They were clearing out the cabinets in one of the rooms when Hermione came across a small, ornate box. She ran her fingers over the carved silver which decorated it, before opening it. Something sprayed onto her face and she heard a shout of "Hermione, no!" before she blinked, just the once, and fell backwards into someone's arms.
She awoke much later in her bed, feeling drowsy and not all together with it. She glanced out the window and saw that the sky was darkening as the day drew to a close. "You know," said a voice beside her as a glass of cool water was pressed into her right hand, "if I didn't know you were just satisfying your own insatiable curiosity, I might have thought you were trying to get out of a day's cleaning."
"Me?" she said, after a sip of water, "never." She set the glass down on her bedside table and with a quick swish of Sirius' wand; the candles in the room began to glow brighter.
"So how are you feeling? Head all right?"
"A bit slow," she said, trying to work out how much of a delay there was in her brain when compared to normal, but this was too much work, and instead she settled back into the fluffy pillows and picked up her glass again, taking another sip.
"Well from what I can tell it's done you no harm, but let us know if you feel…unusual, ill, any of that. Or if you just fancy getting out of cleaning." He flashed a grin at her and she smiled in spite of herself, knowing he was only teasing because he knew she wouldn't. "Molly's cooking dinner now, d'you want me to bring it up or-?"
"No, I'll get up, I'm fine," he frowned disapprovingly, "honestly," she told him. "I'm fine." He nodded and she swung her legs out of the bed and got up, feel slightly light headed as she did so. She stood still for a moment to steady herself, allowing her eyes to flutter shut for a moment or two, before she felt him stand up next to her, taking her hand and linking it with his elbow in a gentlemanly gesture.
"You're not fooling me, Granger," he said quietly, allowing her to lean against him as they began to walk towards the door. "But I won't say a word to the others, and they'll keep up their impression of you as indestructible."
"I'm hardly indestructible," she said as they began to walk down the stairs, which seemed to be a lot steeper than usual. She tripped, but didn't fall, as he held onto her tightly, set her back on her feet and sighed, obviously feeling he should have made her stay in bed.
"Why are you so bloody determined to show your face at dinner?" he asked.
"Because I've already been unsociable enough for one day," she said as they finally got to the bottom of the stairs, him bearing the brunt of her weight due to the fact that her knees buckled after every few steps. He rolled his eyes and escorted her into the kitchen, ignoring George's raised eyebrow as he helped her into her chair.
"Molly, she insisted," he said as the witch began to fuss about how Hermione should be resting in bed, that she would have brought something up for her if she was hungry, and after all, it really wasn't safe for her to be going up and down those stairs, which were a danger at the best of times, and at the worst of times, a suicide attempt. Sirius smiled at a wary Hermione as he helped himself to potatoes, the smile not having fully faded even when his dinner had been eaten and the dishes cleared away.
She knocked on the doorframe and Sirius and Buckbeak looked up, the former smiling at her and the latter regarding her with a haughty gaze. She bowed low and the hippogriff inclined its head, allowing her to move forwards and stroke his glossy feathers.
"So this is your secret hideout, eh?" she asked, sitting down on the corner of mattress which hadn't been taken up by Buckbeak.
"Can you keep a secret?" he replied, smiling slightly.
"Moody said they're going to get Harry tomorrow," she said, prying for more information about her friend's arrival.
"Yes! Brilliant isn't it?" Hermione smiled at the excitement that was evident on Sirius' face. "They say he should be here around midnight. They're flying." He reached down and grabbed a dead ferret by the tail, holding it out to Buckbeak as Hermione grimaced. Buckbeak took it and devoured it in seconds, Sirius turning back to get another one.
"And have you spoken to him lately? He's been very quiet since the Dementor attack…"
"He's been the same to me too. Angry I expect, can't blame him. Can't be helped though, he'll find out soon enough." He seemed to be a little too concentrated on the gory display of Buckbeak ripping apart another ferret and Hermione frowned.
"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to push the boundary too far.
"I've never had him angry with me before, I mean, I've had him wanting to kill me, but once we got past that little snag…" Hermione laughed unintentionally and he smiled grimly, "I don't know. I just don't like it."
"He won't be angry with you Sirius. Yes, while he's alone and he's brooding, he'll be furious with us all, but no doubt he'll take all his anger out on Ron and I and all will be fine by the time you get to see him." Sirius nodded grudgingly, knowing she was right.
"How's life with Hermione Granger?" he asked suddenly, his sullen mood disappearing in an instant, shifting on the mattress so he didn't have to turn his head to look at her.
"Fine, as always," she replied, the smile on her face having a slight hint of bitterness to it. "You're the first person to ask me in years actually."
"Well I'm not surprised if you only ever say 'fine'," he joked, and she shot him a mock glare, which only caused him to laugh, and for her to join in less than three seconds later.
"He was angry then?" Sirius asked as Hermione poured herself some coffee.
"You've got no idea," Hermione replied, sitting down at the table, mug clasped in her hands. "Shouting about how he's done so much more than us, but we're the ones who know every single detail of the Order's plans, and how we're busy battling Death Eaters everyday and he's stuck in his room being told to be a good boy. I think the stuff that happened in June really sank in after he got home and he's had no outlet, so it's all gone round and round in his mind and here we are, with an angry Harry who would much rather fly off the handle than think rationally."
"You can tell he's my Godson," Sirius said, in what was a half-hearted attempt at making a joke. "I'll have a word – don't worry, I'll make it subtle – and see if he won't cut you two some slack."
"Thanks Sirius," she said quietly, lifting her mug to her lips and swallowing some of the warm coffee, dragging her tongue along her teeth to rid herself of the bitter taste before she added another teaspoonful of sugar.
Sirius reached behind him and grabbed a foil covered plate, setting it down on the table and removing the metallic cover. He pushed the plate towards her. "Pumpkin Pasty?"
"It's four o'clock in the morning," she said, and as though her body had needed to be told the time in order for it to express signs of tiredness, she yawned.
"They're homemade," Sirius told her, wiggling the plate a little as he tried to tempt her. She pursed her lips for a moment before she set her coffee down and reached out a hand for one of them, Sirius smiling as she took one, taking another for himself and biting a large chunk out of it. "Worth every morsel, no?"
"I suppose," she said reluctantly, not wanting him to see the delighted look on her face as she tasted a particularly nice bit of pumpkin.
He was brooding, getting grumpy and selfish, and deep down, she couldn't blame him, not at all. He had been so happy to have Harry around, to have all the Weasleys staying, a constant, noisy presence, and herself, as well, talking to him at ungodly hours when they should really be fast asleep, her ducking into the pantry whenever they heard Mrs Weasley coming down the stairs in the middle of the night. There had been a few close calls, but they'd laughed about them afterwards, once Molly had gone back to bed. They'd made sure to keep their laughter quiet though. As fun as those close calls were, they weren't too eager for them to happen too often. Too much of a good thing, all that sort of rubbish. She knew he just didn't want to face Mrs Weasley's wrath if she caught Hermione out of bed, because it would inevitably be blamed on Sirius. He was an adult, after all, and should know better than to allow one of the children to be up at such a time.
She found him in the library, sitting in a chair by the window, looking out onto the square below, his attention fixed on the silhouette of a fox, which appeared to be sniffing through a rubbish sack in a quest for food. He didn't look up when she came in, but she knew he knew she was there, so she sat down in a chair a few feet away from him, looking out the window with a little less concentration than he was. "He feels guilty, you know, for going back."
"I know," he said quietly, not moving his gaze, his eyes still focussed on the fox.
"You should say something, he looks up to you so much and he hates feeling like he's made you unhappy."
"I know, but there's nothing I can say. I feel this way and it's stupid, because he belongs at Hogwarts, you all do, but I want you all to stay here. I'm going to go mad in this house, all alone."
"You'll have the Order members popping in and out all the time. And Kreacher's here-" he cut her off with a bark-like laugh, which got his 'I hate Kreacher and Kreacher hates me' point across quite easily. "Well all I'm saying is that you won't be alone all the time. Harry'll write to you, I'll write to you, you've got Buckbeak, and what you really need to think about is Harry, please. Because he's going back into a world where everybody thinks he's a lying, attention seeking little twerp who wants to drag out his fame," she said, before adding as an afterthought, "oh, and they're quite sure he's delusional."
"I know," Sirius said, finally looking away from the window. "But what do I say? Sorry Harry, I'm a selfish old man who should know better but I hate the fact that you're leaving?"
"No, because you're not selfish," he was, just a little, "and you're not old," again, only just a little, "you've just missed having people around you, and now you've got that back, you don't want to let it go."
"Hermione Granger, ever so young but ever so wise. How do you do it?"
"Natural talent I suppose," she replied, a small smirk working its way onto her face. "Sirius Black, ever so old yet acts like a child, how do you do it?" he laughed again, and she was glad, because when she looked back, that remark could have touched a nerve.
"I'm male," he responded. "We all act like children."
"Yes, I'd forgotten. I've been so busy packing today that I haven't seen Harry and Ron," he laughed again and she felt incredibly pleased with herself, because it was down to her that his sulky mood was disappearing. She hoped it would stay away long enough for him to give Harry a cheerful farewell the next day. She looked at her watch and sighed. "It's late and I have to be up early. I'll see you in the morning." He nodded and she stood up, brushing the creases out of her pyjamas, and left the library, which was still as gloomy as it had been the night she had arrived. Mrs Weasley hadn't seen the sense in clearing it out, something which Hermione had silently, but furiously, disagreed with.
She got into bed that night and thought for the first time that she'd probably miss the large bed that she got to sleep in, even if it had taken a short while for it to get used to being slept on again. She'd also miss exploring the bookshelves in the library, tracing her fingers over the lines of the family tree in the drawing room, Pumpkin Pasties at unreasonable hours with Sirius, hiding in the pantry amongst the vegetables whilst Sirius came up with some ridiculous story involving him talking to himself, or laughing at a joke he remembered from back when he was at Hogwarts. She sighed, but she didn't have long to dwell on things, because her eyelids flickered shut and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
She rushed into the kitchen, having set her trunk down in the hallway. Her hair was a tangled mess but she didn't care, just pulled it into a bun and grabbed the last piece of toast, which Sirius had just been reaching for. "I'm in a rush!" she said defensively, hand held in front of her mouth as she chewed, even in the hurried panic not wanting to be rude. He rolled his eyes and got up to put some more slices of bread under the grill, adding a few more when he heard Harry and Ron clomping down the stairs, trunks banging noisily behind them.
Hermione pulled the newspaper towards her as she chewed her toast rapidly, frowning at the headline which was just another story about how Dumbledore was losing his marbles. She pushed it away in disgust and took the coffee Sirius offered her, reaching for the sugar bowl with her spare hand. "No, it's got sugar in it," he said as he turned back to the toast which was starting to brown nicely. Harry and Ron burst into the kitchen, shutting the door to muffle Mrs Weasley's angry shouts which were directed at the twins.
"What were you thinking? You could have done her real damage! You're lucky you're going back to school today otherwise-"
"Toast, boys?" Sirius said loudly, blocking out what was most likely a gruesome threat. Harry and Ron gladly accepted, Harry making a grab for the jam and Ron wasting no time in tearing a corner off of his own slice.
Harry and Ron were pulling their trunks onto the train when she felt a cold wet nose prod her hand. She turned around to see Sirius, standing next to her in his animagus form. She frowned, but crouched down all the same and scratched behind his ears, earning herself a look of lazy contentment from him. "You shouldn't have come here," she whispered, and she was sure he rolled his eyes. "I'll write soon, promise." She stood up and he barked at her just the once, causing her to smile as she got onto the train, inwardly dreading the imminent moment when she and Ron would have to tell Harry that they had to go down the front to the prefects' carriage.
He collapsed back onto his bed, the tawny owl fluttering over to the headboard and perching itself there, waiting for Sirius to read, and then pen a reply to, the letter. He tapped it with his wand and it unrolled instantly. His eyes widened at the lengthy letter, not expecting there to be so much news in the one week since Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone back to school. Nevertheless, he shifted on his bed to make sure he was comfy before reading what Hermione had to say.
Dear Snuffles,
Hope everything's okay where you are, well, I hope that things are at least better than they are here. Before you start saying how I should not be so open in this letter, I will tell you that I came across a handy little charm which means that only the recipient can view this letter. I would tell you how to do it, but it's a little complicated. It's in a book called 'Charmingly Devious' by Ernest Reinshaw, and I'm sure there's a copy in that library of yours, so make sure you check it out before you reply. I did a couple of test runs to make sure I had it right, and it seemed to work okay, but I recommend you do the same, otherwise I'm sure Moody will be quite ready to curse us into oblivion.
Anyway, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge, and she's absolutely awful. She's senior undersecretary to Fudge himself, and she made it quite clear if you listened properly to her speech – she interrupted Dumbledore and gave a speech, I think that can give you a pretty clear picture of what she's like – that the Ministry are interfering at Hogwarts. She's got us following this ridiculous syllabus in which we don't use defensive spells at all. It's like the Ministry don't want us to be able to defend ourselves. I think you can imagine that Harry flew off the handle a bit, and he ended up in detention for a week because he told her that You-Know-Who was back. She's absolutely awful, but the worst part is, I think that she believes that what she's doing is really the right thing to do, which is terrifying when you think about it.
Harry's been in an awful mood all week; everybody believes what the Prophet's been saying about him, he's getting behind on his homework already and he's missing being at headquarters. All in all, it's not been the best start to the school year, and he just gets so angry at the slightest thing these days that he reacts to every little jibe and whisper. Malfoy's not making things easy, none of the Slytherins are, but when have they ever? Sometimes I just want to scream at everyone and tell them that he is telling the truth, but I'd only end up in detention with people calling me a nutter, so it wouldn't do much use.
We're missing Hagrid of course, is he still on his mission with Madame Maxime? They haven't said how long his substitute's going to be staying for, which doesn't seem like a very good sign – or perhaps it is, depending on how much information you have about how he's getting on. Dumbledore doesn't seem worried, but then again he's never been one to show when he is, so it's hard to find out what's going on.
Last but not least, do you remember that article which said you were actually a famous singer? Well we met the daughter of the man who owns the magazine, and I can assure you she is quite insane, as I imagine her father is. Thought you ought to know.
Oh, and one last thing, and this is probably the most important thing in this whole letter so make sure you don't forget it: do not go outside disguised as Snuffles again. Lucius Malfoy recognised you and you cannot afford to risk getting caught, no matter what. I know you're fed up of being inside, but if nothing else will convince you to stay put, then think of Harry, because I am telling you he will be devastated if you get put back in Azkaban.
I think that's all there was to say, if not then I'll put it in my next letter.
Hope to hear from you soon – don't forget that charm,
Hermione.
Sirius read the letter through a couple more times before moving over to his writing desk, taking some parchment, ink, and a quill from one of the drawers and began to write a reply. Once he was finished, he rolled it up and left it on his desk, heading towards the library to find the book that Hermione had mentioned to him.
"Can you read this, Tonks?" he asked the witch, whose hair was a bright shade of red that day. She frowned at the blank piece of parchment in front of her.
"No, why?" Sirius grinned and rolled up the parchment once more. He beckoned the owl over to him, which had been sitting quietly on the kitchen table and Sirius attached the letter to its leg. "Who are you writing to?" Tonks questioned. "If you've put something in there that you shouldn't, Mad-Eye'll have a fit! How d'you know that spell can't be broken?" she made to grab the parchment but Sirius had finished tying it to the owl's leg, and it swept into the empty fireplace and up the chimney, out into the open sky.
"I know, because the book in which it was written said that it cannot be broken. It's like the Fidelius Charm, but in letter form. Only the people that are allowed to see it can see it. It's a complex bit of magic; I'm surprised that even she could-"
"She? Who's 'she'?"
"Hermione," Sirius said simply.
"You're writing to Hermione?" Sirius nodded. "Why?"
"Well," Sirius began, "she's my Godson's best friend, spent all summer here, played a huge part in helping me escape from Hogwarts a couple of years ago, you're much more likely to get a full account of what's happening at Hogwarts from her as opposed to Harry or Ron and we just got talking over the summer. What's wrong with writing to her?"
"Nothing," Tonks replied. "Just surprised is all. Never really saw you two talking too often. Anyway," she looked at her watch, "I've got to be on guard duty now, so I'll see you tomorrow or something." Sirius nodded and Tonks turned away, tripping over a chair as she made her way to the kitchen door. Sirius held back a chuckle and sat down at the table, pulling the dusty copy of 'Charmingly Devious' towards him and perusing its pages to see if there were any other useful little spells hidden within its pages.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open at the sound of tapping on the window of her dormitory. It was dark outside, and it took her a moment to realise that there was an owl tapping against the glass every now and then, its wings flapping up and down slowly so it remained at the same height. She threw the duvet covers off of her and slipped her feet into her slippers, before tiptoeing quietly over to the window in the hope that she wouldn't wake anyone. Hermione pulled the window open, wincing as it emitted a loud creak and took the letter from the owl's leg. It swooped off into the distance and Hermione shut the window, feeling glad once she'd got back to the warmth of her bed.
Dear Hermione,
Things are quiet here, but from the sounds of it, I'm glad I'm not back at Hogwarts this year, which is most definitely saying something. I fully intend to look that charm up and test it as you suggested, so don't start fretting about me being reckless or some such nonsense. I cannot believe that you'd ever think such things about me, but just in case.
Umbridge is most definitely a nasty piece of work. I would have thought she'd have been enforcing the importance of ridding the world of half-breeds (Remus absolutely hates her) but I suppose I'm not surprised at what you've told me. The Ministry thinks that Dumbledore wants you all trained up so he can storm the Ministry and take over from Fudge. I know, it's ridiculous, but Fudge is being nothing short of ridiculous these days.
Try and get Harry to keep his head down and get on with things, because no good will come of trying to tell Umbridge the truth. He'll only get wound up by her so it's best to just leave it alone. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't make life hard for her, but just make sure it's done in a way that means no one will get the blame. If you're short on ideas, I have a few that might come in handy. I think perhaps you should speak to Fred and George, who I'm sure will be delighted to assist you.
Hagrid should be back soon, I'm not sure when, but just know that he's a big bloke who's got no trouble in looking after himself. Madame Maxime was back for the start of term at Beauxbatons, but she said he's fine, and we shouldn't worry. Try not to mention it too much, as it'll only make people suspicious as to where he is, and that's the last thing Dumbledore wants, especially with Umbridge on the prowl.
With regards to your last point, I have no intention of leaving the house, no matter how bored I get. You're not the only one who's telling me to stay put, and the message is enforced about a hundred times a day. As for Lucius Malfoy recognising me, he wouldn't be able to have me put back in Azkaban because that would mean that he knows about my disguise, and the only way he could know about my disguise would be through Peter, which would make me a free man anyway. Even so, I have no desire to get captured by Death Eaters, as much as I am in the mood for a good duel. Dumbledore's forbidden it, and Dumbledore's word is, regrettably, law, quite literally in some cases.
I notice that even with the length of your letter, you found no space to tell my how you are, so make that top of the list in your reply.
Sirius.
"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?" Hermione looked up and saw Ron leaning forward to get a good look at the parchment which was trailing over the edge of the desk.
"Viktor," she lied convincingly. She couldn't put her finger on the exact reason that she didn't want Harry and Ron to know that she was writing to Sirius, only that it would have felt odd. There was even a small part of her that felt like she was muscling in on Harry and Sirius' relationship, even though she knew she wasn't. Sirius wasn't bound just to Harry, he was friends with Remus and Tonks, and Mundungus, and there was absolutely no reason as to why he shouldn't be friends with her.
"Krum?"
"How many other Viktors do we know?" she asked him, mentioning in her letter about the interrogation which she was currently on the receiving end of.
Hermione yawned, her eyes fluttering open at the sound of paper being torn.
She sat up and saw Ginny, sitting on her own bed, tearing the paper off of various presents. Hermione reached down for her own pile, noticing a small package, the writing on its tag neat and elegant. She slipped that one under the duvet to save for later.
She smiled as she unwrapped a newly-knitted jumper and a collection of home made treats, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Weasley, some perfume from Ron, a book from Harry, a large quill from Ginny, some sweets from Fred and George, which were promptly put in the bin, as well as a few more smaller presents, from Tonks, Lupin and other members of the Order.
Ginny left the room, and Hermione waited until she could hear her walking down the stairs before she carefully unwrapped the present from Sirius.
It was a delicate silver necklace with an hourglass pendant. Hermione smiled. She had told him all about the Time Turner, and he'd called her mad, for wanting to do that many classes. She fastened it around her neck and admired its reflection in the mirror near the door.
She sat across from him at breakfast and nudged him with her foot. He looked up and his eyes flicked to the necklace. "Thank you," Hermione mouthed to him, and he waved a dismissing hand, as if to say it was nothing.
He caught up with her later. "It was my great-grandmother's," he explained. "I thought you'd like it. I liked it too, cos without your real one, I'd be a dead man." Hermione's smiled faded, ever so slightly. "Anyway." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thanks for the Honeydukes sweets by the way, I miss their stuff and none of it seems to be at the top of anyone's shopping list. And I can't exactly pop out and get some myself, can I?"
Hermione's smile returned.
All thoughts vanished from his head when he saw her, slumped against the wall. It looked like she was –
"She's alive," a blonde girl told him, her voice tired. She too was on the floor, a short way from Ginny. "I don't know what the spell was; I wasn't there when it happened." He wasn't listening to the girl. He crouched down beside Hermione and touched her face gently. It was cooler than it should have been, and he closed his eyes, just for a few seconds, praying to whatever higher being was out there that she would be okay, that she'd be just fine and she'd come to stay for a while next summer with Ron and Harry, that they'd have their late night chats in the library, which he had spent his spare moments clearing out over the last nine months, that they'd exchange a couple of letters before summer started. His eyes remained shut after his silent prayer, memories flashing in his mind like photographs, some with sound, but mostly without.
She was sitting on Buckbeak's back, having just broken into Flitwick's office.
She was pulling food and drink out of her bag, apologising that she hadn't managed to get fresh robes for him. He said the cave would have only made them dirty, anyway.
A small smile as they sat at Harry's bedside.
She was gripping his arm tightly, trying to stay upright.
"You're not fooling me, Granger."
A weak smile.
A slender hand reaching in front of his own to grab the last piece of toast.
Untameable hair. Broad smile. Shining brown eyes.
Intelligence.
"Sirius! Get a move on!" he looked over his shoulder and saw Tonks, running through the room at top speed. "We need to get to Harry!" Sirius' stomach dropped considerably. He'd forgotten about his own Godson, who right now was probably fighting for his life.
He dropped a kiss onto Hermione's forehead and scrambled to his feet, tripping over some discarded piece of broken furniture but managing to keep on his feet as he followed on after Tonks.
She'd be fine. He'd see her when he got back.
He didn't come back.
She held her grief in until she was home, in her bedroom, trunk sitting on the floor beneath her window, bed sheets fresh, window open, allowing the cool evening breeze to wind its way through the gap, leaving the room smelling summery and clean.
His letters were spread out on the bed before her, his elegant handwriting never changing in style. Something of his pureblood upbringing that had remained.
A tear splashed onto one of the rolls of parchment, and the ink began to run. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sounds of the sobs that escaped her and she sank back onto her bed, burying her face in her pillows, as she cried relentlessly, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
It had been building up for a long time. Ever since she'd woken in the hospital wing back at Hogwarts and Neville had told her what had happened. Luna had also said that Sirius had stopped when he saw her.
"He looked really quite worried, even though I said you were alive," Luna said in her dreamy, yet matter-of-fact voice. Hermione bit her tongue, not wanting to react. "Yes..." Luna continued, eyeing Hermione as though trying to work out how she was really feeling. "Yes, and then he kissed you right there," she pointed to a spot on Hermione's forehead and Hermione nodded, not knowing what else to do. "He seemed to be very fond of you," she said after a while, and then a moment later, after more silence from Hermione, she said, "Well, dinner's about to start and I suppose I should eat something. Goodbye, Hermione."
Hermione managed to choke out a "Bye, Luna," before sliding down in her bed so she was no longer sitting up, and twisted onto her side, her back towards the sleeping Ron in the next bed. A few tears squeezed themselves from her eyes but she managed to fall asleep quite quickly.
When she awoke she was sure she felt the lingering feeling of someone's lips, on the spot where Luna had said Sirius had kissed her.
Hermione had never cried so hard in her life.
"Hermione dear, what's wrong?" It was a week into the summer holidays and Hermione had barely raised a smile. Each time her parents had asked her this question, Hermione had smiled unconvincingly and told them nothing was wrong, she was fine.
There was no escaping it this time, however, because her mother had walked in on her with tears pouring down her face, and Hermione knew that her mother wouldn't let it rest like she had done previously. Hermione wasn't a cry-baby, so if she was sobbing her heart out, as she had been, there was something very wrong. She gulped down a few deep breaths before she managed to say aloud the dreadful truth which she had been keeping to herself ever since she had stepped off the Hogwarts' Express.
"Harry's Godfather died, just before we came home. He was murdered."
"You went to stay there last summer, didn't you?" her mother asked gently, wrapping her arms around her and pulling Hermione into a comforting hug.
"We used to sit up in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking in the middle of the night. And he made really good breakfasts as well," she smiled sadly, tears still streaming down her face. She fiddled with her necklace absentmindedly while her mum listened to her. "He was so brave," Hermione told her, "he died saving Harry, saving all of us, and we never got to say thank you. We couldn't even have a funeral because..." another sob escaped her, "because there was no body."
"It's not fair...Harry...he's lost his parents, and now Sirius, and it's just not fair!" she collapsed into sobs and could say no more on the subject, clinging to her mother as though her life depended on it. She knew what he'd say if he saw her. He'd tell her to get a grip, that he was having a fabulous time with James and Lily, that he was keeping a seat warm for her for when it was her turn to join them, but not too soon.
She pulled away from her mother and took a deep breath, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. "I'm ok," she said finally. "Honestly, go back to whatever you were doing."
"Are you sure, sweetheart?"
"Of course I'm sure. Besides, he'd not want me to be like this. He'd want me to miss him, but not too much...not too much."
He looked at her curiously, slightly shocked that she'd addressed him as Mr Black.
He transformed back into himself and she winced as Mrs Weasley screamed.
He was smiling at her as she stepped out of the fireplace for the first time.
His arms were warm as she fell into them.
He grinned maniacally.
"It belonged to my great-grandmother, I thought you'd like it."
Scary. Malnourished. Insane.
Intelligent. Still malnourished. Harry's safety put before his own comfort.
Clean. Happy. Dark shiny locks of hair.
Gone.
Hermione sighed, but she did not cry again.
"Oooh! It's the Mudblood! What is she going to do?"
"She's going to give you what you deserve," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Bellatrix cackled and Hermione took the chance to hex her, causing Bellatrix's cackle to turn into a shriek of pain.
Hermione worked furiously to block all of Bellatrix's spells, ducking and diving whenever an Unforgivable was sent her way. Finally, she got her chance, and she was so transfixed by the jet of green light that shot from her own wand that she didn't see the one that coming towards her. Bellatrix crumpled, and that was the last thing Hermione saw.
She didn't hear the shouts, and the cries.
She didn't hear Ron's strangled yell.
She didn't feel a thing when Harry shook her roughly and begged her to wake up.
She didn't see Ginny crying silently, a short way away from her.
What she did see, however, when she awoke much later, was a bright blue sky, the sun shining brightly overhead, a few fluffy white clouds breaking up the massive expanse of blue above her.
She sat up and immediately wished she hadn't. Her head was slightly fuzzy, and she felt strangely light. Her fingers gripped the green grass either side of her and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to banish the disorientated feeling that was hanging over her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a hand, a foot or so in front of her. The hand wiggled its fingers encouragingly and she looked up. She had to squint, due to the sunlight, but there was no mistaking him.
She took his hand and he pulled her up. She got a good look at him once she was standing. The strain of Azkaban had disappeared, along with that haunted look in his eyes. He was more handsome than ever, his dark hair slightly wavy, his face a little less lined, his eyes a little bright.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," he said sadly.
"Yeah, well it was a war, we weren't all going to get through it unscathed."
"I know, but I was hoping you three would."
"Me too," Hermione replied in a whisper. He squeezed her hand and smiled.
"Still, no use worrying about it now, there's no going back. Besides, the company's not too bad. C'mon, I want to introduce you to Lily."
"Harry's mum?"
"Oh yes, I've told her all about you."
"You did?" He nodded.
"Why wouldn't I?"
He helped her over a stile and they began to wander, hand in hand through the next field, the grass of which was overgrown and golden, glinting in the midday sun.
The End.