Prologue
It was Quiet. Too quiet. Hermione chanced a fleeting glance down the corridor, desolate, as could be expected in these early hours of the morning. She walked swiftly forward, her delicate ballet pumps echoing nonchalantly against the stone staircase. She flicked her hair hurriedly over her shoulder and quickened her pace, breathing stably, suddenly thankful that she was so near to the portrait of the fat lady. The light emitting from her wand flickered uncertainly as she jogged lithely towards the portrait.
No one is following you Hermione, Its all in your head.
She sighed exasperatedly and smoothed down the front of her robes. Today was going to be a long day. Her hand gracefully reached out towards the fat lady, she placed it just above her shoulder and muttered the password, "Golden Snitch."
A shaky laugh escaped her pursed lips.
Trust Harry. That had to be his first act as Head Boy.
She snorted amusedly and pushed the portrait open. Dark. Too Dark. She snorted again; a war really does turn you into Sherlock Holmes.
She stepped through the hole quietly, hoping desperately not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere. All she needed was to wake someone, and the interrogations would begin. Where had she been? Why so late? You could haveā¦
"You could have told us where you were going, Hermione,"
Hermione started and spun around towards the fire place. Harry and Ron sat rigidly on the Sofa. It was Ron who had spoken Hermione decided, His voice was gruff from lack of sleep and he seemed a little too concerned to be Harry. Or perhaps a little to nosey.
Was it too risky to just ignore them, pretend they weren't there? Yes. Well, could she act astonished? Pretend that she had no idea what they were talking about? No. She sighed, frustrated.
"How did you know I was gone?" She asked blankly, hollowly.
Harry pointed his wand to the fire and muttered "Incendio." A vat of weltering flames erupted from the fireplace, dancing across the common room, illuminating the angry features of one Ronald Weasley. Hermione took a moment to take in his appearance, his strong jaw was set, and angry she thought helplessly. His burning red hair fell shabbily into his eyes; he lifted a strong hand and swept the locks hurriedly from them, still staring intently at the fire. Hermione sighed, His eyes used to dance with amusement, be alight reflecting their playful banter. The war may not have Killed Ron, but it killed everything about him that Hermione once came to love.
Harry answered Hermione's previous question by holding up a shabby piece of parchment. The marauders Map. She almost cried at the irony.
"You could have been hurt Hermione," Harry said awkwardly, she knew he was upset with her, but Hermione could tell he was extremely worried. As always. She walked over to Harry, having the good grace to blush and look ashamed. Of course, she wasn't ashamed, she was, however, sorry she worried him.
"But I wasn't, I'm fine, Harry," She said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. Harry turned his head and looked at her with piercing green eyes. Gosh, He really is handsome she thought. She blushed again.
Harry, misunderstanding the sudden coloring of her cheeks sighed and placed his hand soothingly on top of hers.
"I know, but understand, the map only shows where you are, not what you're doing. We were worried,"
Ron took this as a cue to turn and stare accusingly at Hermione.
"Where were you, Hermione?" He asked, his voice edged with harshness.
"You know where I was, Ron," She spoke quietly, guilt tracing the words that fell from her tongue. Hermione turned away, letting the hand enveloped in Harry's drop unceremoniously to her side. She started towards the steps leading to her dormitory when Ron's Hard came down harshly onto her shoulder.
She gasped, and allowed herself to be spun around, face to face with Ron. His eyes were seething with accusations. A second hand came down on her shoulder, hard. She let out an audible cry of pain and harry looked astonished between the two, too surprised to intervene.
Ron leant forward, his breath fanning hotly over Hermione's face. His lips moved towards her ear. And eight words tumbled from his mouth, destroying life as Hermione knew it.
"The name Hermione, The name on the Map," He whispered hotly, his fingertips unknowingly crushing her delicate shoulders.
Hermione briefly heard Harry trying to awaken Ron, make him realize that he was hurting her.
Hermione's lips opened and closed, no sound escaping them.
He knows. Ron knows.
"Tell him Hermione, Tell Harry!" Ron seethed heatedly.
Hermione let tears fall freely from her eyes, this was it. The end. She stared hollowly into the fire, her eyes brimming with salty tears.
Harry brought his confused emerald eyes from Ron's Hand to Hermione's expressionless face.
Ron shoved Hermione forcefully forward but she didn't flinch. She just stared. Hollowed out. By those eight words.
"Hermione?" Harry questioned, "Tell me what? What Name? Hermione?"
Then everything fell into place. The name on the map.
"Hermione, what name?" Harry asked. He stared intently at Hermione. "Who were you with?"
Hermione's eyes, hollow and blank, stared straight ahead into the fire as she answered.
"Sirius," She whispered. "Sirius Black."
