*I am not JKR (Sniff) and therefore have no rights.
Present. Potter Residence. 2005.
At first, it had been hilarious for Harry to watch his best friend, his sister in every way but blood, dodging and countering the verbal lance of his godfather. He had received a sneak peak of how diverting these sparring matches were back in the fifth year at Grimmauld Place, but he'd been too preoccupied to appreciate the entertainment at the time (seeing as he had been, he could freely admit it now, an unmitigated git of epic proportions with a penchant for explosive outbursts of angst and self-pity), and it had ended almost as soon it had begun when Sirius had been hexed through the veil.
It wasn't until two years later, immediately after some of the chaos following the Battle of Hogwarts had been managed, that he'd again received the opportunity to watch the inevitable combustion that was these two people's relationship. Harry couldn't help but reminisce about that day, rolling his eyes when as he thought about their reunion.
Flashback. 2 May 1998. Hogwarts, Great Hall.
Harry had finally disentangled himself from the leeching grasps of the press. He wanted nothing more than to escape. There had yet been any time to emotionally process the day's proceedings. He was relieved to have come out the other side alive, along with Ron and Hermione. It was a fate that, despite repeatedly telling himself over the past few years would be his, he never truly thought he'd have. He was equally relieved to know many others had also come to see the end of this dark era; Luna, Neville, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall... Ginny. But he was ill-prepared for coming face to face with the losses that confronted him in the Great Hall; Fred's death which was crippling to the soul of his twin, Tonks who had left behind a now motherless infant and whose spouse Harry couldn't even begin to think about at the moment. Had Remus joined the Marauders in their next great adventure? Was Lavender able to overcome the mauling? Was that little Colin Creevy he saw asleep in the corner? Please, please let it be that he's sleeping! He didn't know the full extent of their losses and to be honest he didn't wish to yet. It was suffocating him. The losses, the uncertainty of what and who was left, and the crushing guilt that plagued him as a survivor. Harry was reeling. Thankfully, Hermione sensed that his mental faculties were on the cusp of short circuiting and led him away from the camera flashes and endless questioning and out to the now abandoned courtyard.
"Do you want me to take you home?" Hermione asked him so quietly it was almost like she thought anything above a whisper would send him spiraling over the edge. Perhaps it would have, she had always been intuitive about these things and he wasn't about to question it either way.
"Where is home, Hermione? Where would I go?"
Nothing but silence surrounded them. When he finally looked at her expectantly, he saw a series of emotions play across her face, each one fighting for dominance; pity, realization, sadness, confusion, panic, distress, and finally, loss. Understanding hit him like a whipping wind... he wasn't the only one with nowhere to go. She was as much a homeless orphan of war as he was. The only difference was that she'd had to make that impossible decision which made her so, the decision he himself would never have had the strength to make.
"It's not home anymore is it?" Harry didn't need to press further to understand that she meant the castle.
"No Hermione, it's not home anymore. Now it's just a good dream we one had as children."
"So where do we go now, Harry? The Burrow? Where do we start over? I can't help but feel like this is one of those moments... you know, a fork in the road, or some such thing. Like this next step is going to determine how you put yourself back together. Sorry, I'm rambling. And that's probably the last thing you need right now. What you need is a place to go and recover and to have a home. You don't need me bossing you around or... Gah. What am I doing? I'm supposed to be helping here, not-"
"It's okay, Hermione." He cut her off, understanding the rant was only out of concern for him and frustration for not knowing what to do for the first time in, well, probably ever. Fancy that; the savior without the world to save and the strategist without a plan. He realized right then just how similar a state they were in. He felt selfish for letting her take care of him while she went without equal care.
"I know you mean well." He assured her. She looked relieved but was still unable to mask the tears in her eyes. "And it's 'we,' Hermione." He continued. "You told me I needed a home, but you need one as well. That makes it a 'we,' and 'we' may have lost a lot today but we still have family as long as we have each other." And with that, he had made a decision. He grabbed her hand and disapparated them away without warning, grateful for both the first and last time that Hogwarts' wards had fallen.
They landed between houses 11 and 13 at Grimmauld Place and waited silently for number 12 to appear for them. They hastily moved forward and through the door as Hermione preemtively silenced Mrs. Black. Before she knew what was happening, Harry had spun her around into his chest, enveloping her in a hug.
"It will need a lot of work, Hermione, but it's somewhere to go. We can clean it out, replace the memories, and make our own in turn. We can make a home for ourselves. I know I'm a right moody git and it's only going to get worse when I'm not in shock, but I'm going to be selfish. Intentionally selfish, too, for the first time. I'm going to ask that you build this home here with me." He pushed her away far enough for him to look directly in her eyes.
"I can't do this without you, Hermione." He admitted, his voice trembling as he finally started to feel the abundance of emotions he'd been suppressing. "I can't do this without my sister." He choked on a sob as she crashed herself back into his chest, soaking the pitiful remains of his t-shirt with her tears. When those tears had at long last run dry, they simply remained standing there, clinging to each other with everything in their strength reserves. They rocked back and forth trying to extend that moment, the first moment in years where either of them had felt... safe. Both of them were home, or at least some semblance of it.
"So when did this happen, then...?" A familiar but forgotten voice jested suggestively from down the hall. "
It was the kind of well-meaning, if teasing, statement that you just knew was matched with a mischievous smirk and full repetoire of innuendos. Unfortunately for the deliverer of said statement, he hadn't taken into consideration the war-honed instincts of the cuddling teenagers and was promptly greeted by the business end of their wands.
"Sirius?" Harry breathed, his wand arm faltering as he struggled to maintain his aim in the wake of his thought-to-be-dead godfather.
"Harry, no! Think. Sirius is dead. The Death Eaters know that the fidelious charm has been broken and that we might return here. It's a trap... it has to be!"
"It's me, Harry. It's Sirius. Merlin, you've grown up since I saw you." No longer caring about the ramifications of having wands trained on him, and only wanting to be reunited with his godson, he raised his arms and moved swiftly forward toward Harry.
Spooked and fiercely protective, Hermione's wand clattered to the ground as her "Muggle Instincts," as Ron called them, took over. She wrenched Harry hard behind her wguke her fist hooked toward the oncoming threat and firmly colliding with Sirius' chin, sending his him backward before he quickly lost consciousness.