Disclaimer: Not mine, all JKR's, all I own is the plot. A little lament for Sirius...

"Where's Hermione gotten to, my good men?"

Sirius had crept up on Harry and Ron in the drawing room of number 12 Grimmauld Place, whilst they were helping him clean. After Ron had recovered from his surprise – and because Harry was too busy laughing at him – he replied.

"Not a clue, Sirius. How about go find her rather than bother us two, eh?"

With a good-natured chuckle and with a pat on the back to Harry, Sirius left in search.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione... Where would she be? Jesus, who would've guessed that the little witch is elusive... Dammit, I needed to ask her opinion on what I should get Harry for his birthday...

Sirius was snatched from his thoughts as he heard a small sob emerge from the library, the door of which had been left ajar. Curious, he pushed the door back on his hinges, and staggered back at what the room revealed. Swearing, his hand went to his wand immediately.

Inside the room was Hermione, cross-legged in the middle of the floorboards, inch-deep in dust. She had rolled her shirt – or, more accurately, Harry's shirt – to her elbows, revealing smears of grime on her forearms. Her hair was springing out from its hurried plait, and she had the heels of her palms pressed into her eyes, the fingers clawing into her hair.

Wrapped around her was the hugest snake Sirius had ever seen, if that's what it was. Its nose was larger, and two huge fangs were poised behind Hermione's head. The most shocking sight for Sirius was when the snake turned to face him – its eyes were acidic yellow.

His body rattled as he inhaled suddenly, not realising he had been holding his breath in the first place. He had realised two things when his eyes connected with the snake's. For one, the beast wasn't a snake – it was a basilisk. The terror that fact harboured melted away when Sirius quite clearly acknowledged that he had not, in fact, died when he met its gaze. Because of this, he surmised that it must be a boggart, out of control, feeding of Hermione's fear.

Hermione!

After the shock of the sight wore off, Sirius cried out the incantation and hurried over to Hermione.

"It's alright, it was just a boggart; nothing's going to hurt you. I'm here for you 'Mione."

Sirius had sunk to the floor and wrapped his arms around the weeping girl. Hermione pressed her face into Sirius' chest and threw her arms around his neck, still sobbing.

"It... it was j-just so real..." She finally stammered out.

Sirius stroked her hair.

"Just relax darlin', it'll pass. Just remember, I'm right here, I'm right here."

Hermione and Sirius had remained seated together for a good hour after the faux-basilisk had been banished. Though she was now seated on his lap, and he had wound his arms around her waist, neither felt uncomfortable.

"'Mione?"

"Mmm?"

Hermione twisted herself to face Sirius after he addressed her.

"I thought your boggart was McGonagall telling you you had failed everything?"

Hermione let out a small, humourless laugh, causing a look of confusion to creep over Sirius' features.

"I... I'm a coward."

Nothing was said for a few minutes after her statement, so Sirius gave her a tiny poke in the ribs, urging her to explain.

"I spun the first halfway believable line that I could when I got away from that boggart in third year. I just felt, because we had a year free of Voldemort, a year free of the horror, I would just... bring back the bad memories for the guys if I said I thought the basilisk was coming to get me."

Sirius was silent. Astonished by her selflessness, he could only stare at her.

"That... that was the scariest day of my life. Not even when we were facing the obstacles leading to the stone was I that scared. I read one line in a book, and my blood froze in my veins. A monster, able of killing me with a single glance. Out for me. I couldn't handle it."

Suddenly she swung herself around so that her knees were pressed either side of Sirius' thighs, and her hands were gripping his shoulders.

"Though it was only a reflection, a glimpse from a pocket mirror, I remember. I can handle a huge snake; I know curses to protect myself. I can handle fangs laced with venom; our friendly neighbourhood phoenix can provide the antidote. I can't handle the eyes. They're the one thing I can't stop."

Without a spare moment's thought, Sirius had leant forward and pressed his lips to Hermione's. He knew it was wrong, that she was pushing sixteen, that she was his godson's best friend, but all he could think of was taking her pain away, and how soft her skin was under his hands, how enticing the wild curls of her hair were beneath his fingers.

Hermione was enraptured. She could feel Sirius' lips on hers, one hand against her hip, one tangled in her hair, his thumb gently caressing the nape of her neck. She could feel his stubble against her chin, could taste the faint tinge of nicotine on his tongue. And she didn't care. For once in her life, she felt completely at ease: nothing to think about, nothing to care about apart from a man kissing her with equal fervour as she was kissing him with.

Sirius never spoke of Hermione's true boggart to anyone, and neither of them spoke of the kiss again.

After they left the room, they behaved as normal as they ever had before: he the joker, overprotective of his godson, and quick to judge those he viewed as his enemies; she the conscientious one, chastising him frequently, and trying to hide her smiles when he cracked a blue – or, as he would say, a black – joke.

They kissed only once more after that day, on the morning of the first of September. It was fleeting and simple – amongst the bustle of Molly Weasley shrieking orders at her children and Harry, and the twins wreaking havoc by hiding Ron's books, Sirius caught hold of Hermione's wrist when she passed him, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen.

He spun her towards him, and gently placed his mouth on hers. She closed her eyes, and sighed happily when they pulled away from each other.

"I'll miss you." She whispered simply.

"You'll forget to, what with the boys to look after..." Sirius murmured his reply, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I won't forget."

Hermione placed a chaste kiss on Sirius' lips and elegantly spun out of his embrace, and lightly skipped out of his sight.

A few moments he heard a bang, and her yell, and either Fred or George apologising profusely through badly-stifled laughter. Yet Sirius had not moved. He knew she was right, that she wouldn't forget. But he wanted her to. This was war, and he was in no place to give her false hope. He knew in his heart of hearts that the trio would encounter He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during their year, and he feared for them. If he could do anything to help those three teenagers throughout their journey, he would, no matter what the cost.

---

Eleven months after that moment, the day was sunny. Hermione wore her hair loose, and a light breeze wafted it to and fro.

She had all but tuned out the voice of whoever was speaking – more condolences, probably.

Her fingers were laced with Harry's – he was able to openly weep without question, and that he did. He could barely summon anger anymore, just the irreparable pain of loss. Hermione squeezed his hand as she tried to fight another wave of grief. Harry squeezed back, before unlocking their fingers.

He was called forward to speak about his Godfather.

Because Sirius' body could not be recovered from beyond the veil, a simple ceremony was being held for him in place of a funeral.

At that moment, Hermione heard her name, and looked up to see Harry gesturing for her to read the final lines of his small speech – he was visibly choking on his tears.

Quickly she ran to him, wrapped an arm round his waist, and took the scrap of paper so that she could announce the last line to the small assembly of mourners – mainly members of the Order.

"All in all, I know he'd tell me not to be so soppy, and that I better not be a big girl and cry at his funeral – tears are reserved for emotional types like Hermione! But I have to say how I feel, because he's the only family I've ever known. Please, raise your glasses to Sirius Black: a defiant son, a noble godfather and a true friend."

Hermione's voice cracked on the last word, but nobody noticed – they had already begun to applaud. She hugged Harry, letting him weep on her shoulder whilst fighting back her own onslaught of tears. She smiled at how Sirius had wanted her to forget him, almost as if he knew this moment was merely months away.

She gripped Harry tightly as he sobbed, and, finally, let her own tears begin to fall.