Disclaimer - Don't own any of J.K.R.'s fabulous characters

Back To Black - Chapter 1

"Bye Remus, hope you have a nice trip!" Hermione called, wiping gravy off one of the many dinner plates that were now piled in the sink. Seconds later, the door slammed shut leaving 12 Grimmauld Place once again silent. Darkness seemed to envelope the house, leaving the only light source the flickering light bulb under which Hermione was quietly doing the dishes whilst reflecting on The Order's latest meeting. She had been living in Grimmauld Place since she had left Hogwarts, Harry had started a career as seeker of the Chudley Cannons but had soon risen to the England team, so, now he travelled the world. Ron was working in his dads office and was still living at home (he got a lot of stick for this considering he was twenty-one). Hermione sighed, she hated living alone, but, what choice did she have. At least she was rarely in the house, what with St. Mungos putting her on permanent stand-by!

It took half an hour to wash all the dishes and another twenty minutes to dry them and put them away. There was at least twenty champagne flutes because, as well as being a meeting, it had been the anniversary of Hermione's parents deaths. They had been the only muggle members of The Order and had been tragically murdered by the one and only Lucius Malfoy; they had been ferrying information from those wizards who had gone into hiding to The Order. But one day, four years ago, the Death Eaters had set a trap which led the two of them to their doom.

Wind howled and rain battered the window panes as the nights storm set in. The doors throughout the house rattled and the portraits complained as their frames banged noisily off the walls. There had been few changes to the house since Hermione had moved in, everything had remained the same except that there was a new coat of paint on the walls and that Sirius' mothers portrait had finally been removed.

Hermione sighed again, it had been a long night but she knew there was no point in going to bed. If she did she would be submitted to hours of her parents screams echoing around her head. She shivered as a particularly strong gust of wind blew through the kitchen, somewhere in the distance a door slammed shut causing her to jump and squeal in shock.

"Burglars." She thought creeping towards the door wand in hand and peering through the crack. A dark shadow was stumbling rather drunkenly through the door from the main entrance. Their breathing was heavy and they seemed to be struggling to stay upright. This was no burglar!! Forgetting all stealth, she wrenched open the door and rushed forward just in time to catch the person as they stumbled and fell. Under Hermione's fingers she could feel ever bone. The clothes they wore hung off them and they were drenched through.

Slowly, being careful not to hurt the person any further, she heaved them into the kitchen and lowered them into one of the many dining chairs.. Shaking slightly, she tilted the man's (she could tell it was a man now they were in the light) head up slightly so she could check his pupils, she slowly pushed back his dark, shaggy mane of hair out of the way of his eyes and let out a gasp.

"Sirius…"


Sirius groggily opened his eyes to find that he was surrounded by darkness, his robes were soaked with his own blood, this was coming from a large cut that was open on his chest. Bellatrix's last curse had hit him hard, he had been so sure that this very veil was just that, a veil. Noises were no longer penetrating the silence, he was alone.

Months past, maybe even years, yet still no-one came for him. His cuts seemed to never heal, but his heart felt the worst; it was broken torn in two, every time he closed his eyes he saw Harry, upset and crying. His life seemed to ebb away as he lay there, unable to escape nor give, stuck between life and death or perhaps heaven and hell.

Just as his body began to slow down and his heart began to give up hope, a light, as bright as snow, appeared above him. A dark shadow momentarily hid the heavenly glow from view. It was as if it was calling out to him. Slowly but gracefully he rose into the air, towards the long awaited exit.

Suddenly, he felt a cool breeze hit his face and rain soak the not yet blood-stained parts of his robes. He cautiously opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of the one place he never thought he would miss, Number twelve Grimmauld Place. Home.