AN- I'm conscious that some people don't take the title Apartheid in a light way. I'm not referring to any racial segregation whatsoever. Being an Indian myself, I never would. Take it in an easier way, like comical chaos. Please? For me?

And thank you so much for the reviews. You have no idea how encouraging they are!

CHAPTER 2

Hermione was conscious of a splitting headache as she woke up. The sun seemed to be shining right in her eyes, and her brow felt viciously hot. She frowned and opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was her butter-yellow dress, one of her favorites, lying carelessly tossed on the floor. She mentally chided herself for not hanging it up after changing into her pajamas.

Still without moving, she sighed and wondered what time she had got home last night. She had been so drunk…she frowned, and wondered if she had locked the door.

Suddenly she noticed that the tiles on the floor were pale green. This was not her home.

Her mind went into a quick overdrive. Had she passed out last night? Had someone carried her up here? Where had she seen these pale green tiles before? All of a sudden it came to her- the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron were tiled in that color.

So she was in the Leaky Cauldron. She probably had passed out last night. Someone had carried her up here. She wondered if it had been Sirius.

So why was her dress on the floor?

And what was she wearing?

At the same moment she realized that she was complete naked she felt something stir in the sheets before her.

Hermione stiffened. She had got drunk and gone to bed with someone? It seemed surreal. She squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed that it wasn't Ron. This wasn't the first time they had woken up naked with no memories of how it happened, except that it had been finely laced with alcohol the whole way.

But even as she thought that, she dismissed the idea. If it were Ron, he'd be snoring the heavens down right now. The man beside her was breathing deeply and slowly.

He moved a bit more. It struck her that he was probably waking up, and she was oddly relieved that she was going to find out who it was. She steeled herself to turn around.

'Hermione?'

Her eyes flew open. She knew that voice! 'Sirius?' she said, tentatively.

'Oh my god,' she heard him say. 'Oh my god.' There was a rustle and thump. She thought she heard him step out of bed and move around a bit. 'What are you doing?' she asked.

'Putting on my boxers,' he replied. 'Don't turn.'

She didn't. She hadn't been very inclined to in the first place. But the mention of boxers made her heart do a quick thump, and then return to its normal beat.

'Okay,' he said, 'Okay, cool. Pull that sheet around you if you want to get up.'

She did so, and sat up in bed, turning around for him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, wearing a pair of black boxers. For a minute she thought he was crying, and then she realized he was leaning over to pick up his wand from the bedside table.

He pointed it to his head and murmured something. Then he turned to her. 'Hangover?' he asked.

She nodded silently, and he waved the wand at her, so her head cleared and she felt a little fresher. The totally surrealism of the situation was coming to her now.

'Um,' she said, uncertainly.

He turned to look at her, a little confused look in his eyes. 'Wait here,' he told her, 'I'll call down to Tom to send up some breakfast and then we'll talk. Do you want to shower?'

'No, its okay,' she said. He nodded and getting up, pulling a bathrobe on and went downstairs. When he came back, he was holding a tray piled high with scones, raspberry jam, and coffee with cream.

'Here,' he put it in the middle of the bed, and slinging off his bathrobe, sat down across her. Leaning forward and pulling the sheet around her a little tighter, Hermione wondered why he preferred to talk in his underwear.

He spread jam on a scone and handed it to her. Hermione bit into it, and watched as he poured himself some coffee and took a long, shuddering draught,

'Do you remember?' he asked her, suddenly.

She shook her head. 'No,' she said, honestly, 'The last thing I remember was drinking at the table, after- who? Cristobel left. Oh no, wait, we danced after that.'

Sirius nodded. He wasn't as carefree and easy as he had been last night. On the whole, he looked a little worried.

'Was it-.' He hesitated. 'Was it your first time?'

Hermione shook her head frantically, mouth full of scone. She swallowed it quickly. 'No, no, nothing like that,' she said, hastily. 'It's okay, Sirius, it really is. It was just- one of those things that happen.'

Altogether, apart from the weirdness of it all, she wasn't too bothered. In fact, probably years from now, she felt she'd laugh at it. Sirius and she hadn't been particularly close. There was no deep friendship to ruin, the way it had happened with Ron. And face it, she told herself, he's quite good looking.

He, however, didn't seem to be taking it very lightly. He looked vaguely disturbed.

'Sirius?' she asked, tentatively. 'What- why are you-?'

He turned very suddenly, and said, 'I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have known better than to-.'

'It's not like that,' she interrupted. 'It isn't like you seduced me against my will, or-.'

He winced. 'Knowing me that's quite possible.'

Hermione fought down the urge to grin, knowing it would be out of place. 'No,' she said, firmly, 'I would have wanted it too, or else-.'

'I took advantage of your drunkenness,' he said, miserably.

'Of course not,' Hermione snorted. 'Come on, there's no need to take it like-.'

'You don't understand,' Sirius said, shaking his head. He looked almost panicky now. 'You're years younger than me, and-.'

'I'm a big girl,' she said, evenly. 'Really, I'm sure this isn't the first time you've found yourself in such a position?'

He grinned shiftily. 'Well,' he said, in a tone that said it all, 'There might have been a few times.' He sneaked a sideways glance at her. 'What about you?'

She smiled broadly. 'This is the third time,' she informed him. Sirius stared at her, his eyes silently asking her the question.

'Ron,' she said, biting into a scone. 'After we broke up. Once after the Masquerade ball, and once after one of Mrs. Weasley's' eggnog dinner.'

Sirius grimaced generously. 'That,' he said, 'is something I could have lived without knowing.'

Hermione laughed out rightly, and marveled that he was able to make her so do in such circumstances. Finally, she finished her cup of coffee, and then began to get out of bed, holding the sheet around.

'I'll change in the bathroom,' she said, bending to pick up her dress. 'There's no point staying here. It's better if we don't tell anyone, don't you think?'

She turned around, and found Sirius gaping at her, his mouth wide open and his eyes stretched to their furthest.

'What?' she asked, frowning. Wordlessly, he pointed at her left hand.

Hermione glanced down. She was clutching her dress in her fist. Against the soft yellow, she could see a sparkling ring on her fourth finger.