Chapter 2

Autumn, 1994

Sirius

"Why does the old tosser comply to arrange the Triwizard Tournament now?" Sirius growls. "He of all people knows that Harry is special, not to mention precious, to the whole wizarding community, all of magical Britain. And then let him participate!? Of course there is some kind of black magic here, the fingerprints of bloody Voldemort are all over it."

"He can't change the rules. Barty Crouch was adamant. It's a legal, binding magical contract," Remus says in a lower voice. He is just as concerned but tries to think, rather than rave.

"Legal? Binding? Since when did Albus really care about that? And Barty Crouch seems senile. I saw him during the first task, he looks decades older than he should. Eyes all glassy, as if he wasn't really there."

"You saw him!? You went to see… How much of a death wish do you have, Sirius? If someone…"

"No one saw me. Maybe Hagrid, he's the only one capable of recognizing me."

"You mean…"

"Yes, Padfoot was there. But, to return to Harry, Albus has spent years protecting him, why use him as bait now? And you know, just as well as I do, that Albus isn't the most law-abiding wizard around. My trial, for instance. One would have thought he at least should have visited me, having a soft spot for reformed dark wizards, me being in his Order and coming from the darkest of pure-blood traditionalists."

Remus just nods and pours another cup of tea. Sirius gets up and leaves the room. He returns with a backpack and Remus looks questioningly at his friend.

"I'm leaving. I'll stay in one of the caves I found last year. I want to be close to Harry. Just popping up in the fireplace and only catching him occasionally just isn't good enough. James and Lily trusted me with him. I need to be there, I really do."

Remus nods again.

"Yes, I can see that you must. You've been restless like a ghost since September, so just go. I'll come visit. And come back whenever you need to. You know where the key is."

Remus follows Sirius to the door.

"Have you seen her since…" he asks.

Sirius shakes his head.

"No, not since I left her and Harry on the battlements and took off with Buckbeak. I've mostly been here, you know that."

"She writes to me, sometimes," Remus says. "She knows you have been staying here. She sends her love."

Sirius flinches slightly but says nothing.

"You did so well with the dragon, Harry. I'm so proud of you. I was about to suggest the Conjunctivitis Curse that the Hufflepuff boy used, but your way was definitely more impressive and, from the dragon's point of view, more fair."

"I didn't really care about the dragon's point of view, Sirius, but thank you."

He blushes and sits down in Sirius' simple campsite. He deflects Sirius questions about the next task, and asks instead about Sirius' and his parents' Hogwarts days. Any other tournaments then? Quidditch Cups? What was Lily's best subject in school? James's? Sirius answers as best he can. He has only seen Harry once since the spring, when Harry took a detour from Privet Drive to Remus' cottage before going to the Burrow and the Quidditch World Cup, and they are far from done with filling in the blanks in Harry's parents' history. Hesitantly he glances to the mouth of the cave where Hermione watches out for them. The cave is far up in the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, and it's possible to spot intruders a mile away. Sirius stood there himself half an hour ago, watching them approaching. Watched her, almost reluctantly, then sighed and tried to feel gratefulness Harry had someone like Hermione so close. Ron is also with them, also trying to talk about the next task in the tournament, but accepting the storytelling Harry wants instead.

"McGonagall gives us dancing lessons," Ron says. "For the Yule Ball. Part of this whole Tournament. Getting dates is the hardest part, even Harry…"

Sirius knows about the tradition, and Ron's tone amuses him. Clearly the boy is terrified by the mere thought of dancing, not to mention girls.

"McGonagall dancing," he muses. "I think you are among very few who have witnessed that. Give it a chance, Ron. You might have fun."

Ron puffs and Sirius hides a smile.

So young. So insecure. So much to find out.

He chances a glance at the girl at the cave opening.

"A ball, Hermione, what do you think about that?"

She turns around and gives off a little speech about the Tournament's objectives, a friendly competition (here Harry rolls his eyes), to strengthen the bonds between the schools, and so forth, but it doesn't really matter what she says. She is beaming. She clearly already has a date. He wonders who it is. Neither Harry nor Ron, of that he is certain. Ron is obviously barely aware of her being a girl, and Harry's closeness to her of is a different kind.

1994, Christmas

He watches her, he watches them all from the battlements, hawk-eyed through the stained glass into the ball room. He knows she had some kind of relationship with someone then, or that she will, in her time-line, in a few, less than ten, years from now, but he doesn't know with whom. When he sees her with Harry a part of him wants it to be him; Sirius loves him like a son and wants the world for him. The other part of him growls silently with canine claim.

Mine.

She dances with a dark Durmstrang student he vaguely recognizes. Transfixed, Sirius watches the young man's hands around her waist, knowing exactly what it feels like holding her like that.

Like holding the whole world in my hands.

Later he watches her run up the stairs crying, and he hates the Durmstrang student with all the Black family fury and ferocity that run in his blood.

The three of them come to visit him on Boxing Day. Stubbornly he has turned down Remus invitation to spend Christmas at the cottage. The cave is freezing as soon as he stops conjuring small blue flames that provide warmth but no smoke. When his acute hearing was alerted people were coming, and he had made sure it was the trio, he lit flames around the cave, and the temperature is almost bearable when the teenagers arrive. Sirius doesn't notice the cold anymore. Twelve years of constant temperatures below ten degrees centigrade is not healthy, and definitely harmful in one's perception of cold.

They have brought him food, which he gratefully accepts, even though the same is true about twelve years of constant starvation. No proper hunger. Not for food, at least.

He almost forces Harry to talk about the second task.

"Even if it's not a dragon's egg, you took it from a dragon, didn't you? Have you tried heating it?"

"Yes," Harry mutters. "I've tried everything I can think of, and I've asked Hagrid as well. I told him it was for a school essay; I think he knew it wasn't, but he told me anyway. He told me everything there is to know about hatching eggs, from Phoenixes to penguins, but that's not really the problem. Opening the egg, I mean. The problem is how to keep it open and not loose your hearing. The noise is… I don't know, it's like clawing the blackboard or chewing on stones." He shudders.

"What do you think?" Sirius asks Ron and Hermione. Ron comes from a pure-blood family as different from Sirius' as humanly possible, but the young Weasley has no suggestions. Hermione shivers and pulls her scarf higher around her neck. Sirius lights another flame in his tea mug and gives it to her. She thanks him with a smile and holds the cup with both hands. He has to think hard to remember what they were talking about, but she steers him back on track.

Always could do that, love, couldn't you? Had you kept me out of Azkaban if I had kept you close?

"It is as if whatever's in there can't handle the atmosphere you open it in, Harry," she says. "Have you tried to open it where it's very cold? Or very warm? You could take it outside. Or go down to the kitchen on Thursdays, when the house-elves bake?"

"How do you know the elves are baking on Thursdays?" Ron asks, but Hermione only gives him an annoyed look and turns to Harry again.

"No, no, I haven't. I can take it out tonight and try. Will you come with me?"

Both nod hesitantly.

"Ever heard of the Muffliato Charm?" Sirius asks.

They shake their heads and he teaches them Severus Snape's invention. He doesn't tell them it's their Potions teacher who invented it, of course. Hermione picks it up instantly, as he knew she would. She is fascinated by it, but says she really thinks it's a dubious charm that shouldn't be used in public.

Harry and Ron are restless. It turns out Ron's brothers Fred and George have arranged a small party, which they are eager to get back for. Sirius is sad to see them go, but hides it behind a friendly poker face. He might apparate to see Remus, he says.

"You go," Hermione says. "I'll stay a little while longer. I want to ask Sirius about… that charm."

If the others notice the small pause in her sentence they think nothing of it. Or perhaps they are just really keen on getting back to the Gryffindor common room. Sirius realizes Harry wants to see him alone. That his godson wants to see him, Sirius, like the closest thing to a father figure the world has to offer. Remus was close to Harry last academic year, but being a teacher entails a certain distance. Sirius wants to do this, be some kind of link between Harry and James, and he also realizes it must be just the two of them. With Hermione present, Sirius is far too distracted, and Harry is far too concerned with keeping up pretences of being more grown up than he is.

She's his age.

Yes, she is now. She was my age then.

But today is now, not then.

Why am I fighting myself?

Because by some gene mutation you are righteous and honourable even though you are a Black.

I… What…? Oh, shut up!

"Well, bye then. Have fun. I'll walk Hermione back to Hogsmeade."

He waves from the opening of the cave. He doesn't really see the boys anymore, all his senses are aware of is Hermione's presence next to him. She leaves the opening and sits down in the campsite, and he takes the place opposite her.

"Sirius, I'm worried," she says without preamble, and as if she has known him for years and not just since last spring.

You have known me for years. You just don't know it yet. And I don't mind you sharing whatever's worrying you. Please, do.

"About?" he asks when she doesn't continue, and only looks into the blue flame in the tea mug she's still holding.

"What? Oh! Harry, of course. I don't know how much he really tries to solve this egg problem. Ever since I first met him, he has been thrown into… things, problems, dark magic related situations without having a say in the matter. And now this, I mean, Cedric, Viktor and Fleur wanted to be part of the tournament. Harry didn't. Again he was drawn into something he can't explain, but being this… this saviour, or whatever he became when he was just a baby, he just goes with it. It is as if he has given up his free will. Whatever Dumbledore says, whatever Hogwarts demands of him, whatever Fudge advises him…" She sobs once, but immediately clears her throat and continues. "I spoke to Cho at the ball, she's Cedric's girlfriend, and she hinted that Cedric had solved his egg. I'm just so afraid for him, Sirius. He's my best friend. He and Ron. And I know Harry is special. But how much is he going to put up with? He's defied V… Vol… Voldemort face to face when he had the Philosopher's stone. He… oh, God, that Basilisk… we were only twelve and he killed it."

She almost rambles and Sirius shuffles over to sit next to her and pulls her close to him. She shivers, and her teeth chatter when she speaks.

"Being terrified of a mass murderer on the run was more or less a walk in the park, last year. But now this? Why the hell does Dumbledore allow it? He could pull strings, couldn't he?" She doesn't wait for Sirius to answer. "And the first task. His dragon broke away. All Harry had was his flying skills. I never…"

Sirius has watched her, fascinated by her quick mind, but ends her stream of words by putting his finger on her lips.

"Hermione. Hermione, stop. Be quiet. Listen to me."

He takes away his finger. Even if the gesture was only meant to quell the panic in her words, he is unprepared for the feeling of her lips against his skin.

Not supposed to feel like this.

He focuses on her childlike features.

Father figure. Friend.

She meets his eyes. Dark and teary they beg him for something, anything to help Harry.

"This Cedric," Sirius says. "Is he the Hufflepuff boy?" Hermione nods. "Didn't Harry tell him about the dragons?" She nods again. "Doesn't he owe Harry then? Or isn't he that kind of boy?"

Hermione frowns and looks, alarmingly, a few years older.

"From what I know about him he is fair. I know he was grateful for Harry's tip."

"Maybe he needs to be reminded of that?" Sirius suggests.

The frown disappears and she almost smiles. He strives to see the child in that smile and returns it.

Hermione

It is colder than before when they make their way back. It's a full moon, but pitch dark in the shadows. Hermione thinks about their former professor Lupin and wonders where he is tonight. Sirius takes her hand when she slips on a spot of ice, and keeps holding it when they come to smoother terrain. She likes it. She likes him. Apart from professor Lupin, she hasn't met anyone who sees Harry as person and not only this unexplainable hero. Well, Ron does, but Ron sees Harry only as a regular person. He is jealous of every danger Harry finds himself in. In that way Ron is an idiot, in all other ways he is her best friend.

"I'll walk you to the gates," Sirius says.

"You don't have to," she answers, not wanting to seem afraid of the dark or be regarded as a child.

"There are other werewolves than Remus. Werewolves who haven't taken any Wolfsbane Potion because they welcome their transformation, and the hunger it entails."

"And Padfoot would play fetch sticks with them to distract them and save me?" she asks. She has no idea why the rather arrogant, provocative or even flirty question slips out of her mind.

"Of course I would," he answers. "Not by playing, though."

She brushes it off with a laugh. Suddenly her hand slips out of his when he stops. She turns towards him. He watches something over her head, beyond her. She realizes that they are at the same spot where Harry and Sirius stood last spring, just after they had left the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack and seconds before the lights from full moon hit professor Lupin's eyes and he lost himself in the Lycanthropy in his blood.

Hogwarts glimmers in the cold light. White frost on the bare trees enhances the image of a painting in the scenic setting. Like a world of its own. Hermione takes a step back to watch it from the same perspective as Sirius. She misses his hand, but when she takes the step towards him he wraps his arms around her from behind and holds her tight. The bitter cold is gone instantly. It feels like letting out a breath after holding it longer than you should. It's the safety of her father's embrace, the love of Harry's and the tingles from Viktor Krum's.

"What do you see, Hermione? What is Hogwarts to you?" he whispers in her ear.

"It's… it's…, well, to me it's a nagging feeling that it's more home than where I grew up. It's where I became normal, even smart and talented after having been the strange kid in every school I attended in the muggle world. It's where my friends are. I never had friends like Harry and Ron before. They are everything to me. It's the best place in the world. And for a study nerd like me I've heard it's better than Beauxbatons."

"You're not a nerd, Hermione," Sirius mumbles. "Harry tells me you are a genius. And he would be lost without you. Finding out about the Basilisk in your second year, for instance."

She feels her cheeks burn, with mixed feelings.

They've talked about me. Me?!

"What do you see, Sirius?"

He clears his throat softly behind her.

"Same as you. The world. Before Hogwarts I didn't live in the real world. I lived in a twisted, demented, warped illusion of it. A blur of pure-blood mania and the very worst reactionaries. Except my brother. I never knew, before it was too late, and I, well, we spent the time we had hating each other. I because I thought he was pretty much like out parents, and he… I don't know, as a counter-reaction to how I treated him. Later you… Well, I found out that he'd been on the same side as me, in the end, but in a much more dangerous position. I'm sorry I never doubted my own prejudices against him, and just assumed he was the Black who followed in the footsteps of our parents."

Hermione says nothing. She can really see the black and white contrast between his family and what she knows about Sirius' Hogwarts days with Harry's dad.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I shouldn't…"

"No, no, it's fine," she assures him in a whisper. "Hogwarts can be the world to someone for many different reasons."

He says nothing, and she hears him inhale slowly. She knows he will let go of her within seconds and she wishes he wouldn't. Her back is against his chest, and she feels his body heat through his thick knitted pullover and her own thin jacket. She wishes time would stop. She wonders if she can go back to this place in time with her time turner that she never got around to giving back to Professor McGonagall.

If I do go back, will he know?

Distantly they hear the bell tower at Hogwarts chime nine.

"It's my curfew," she says and feels very young and guarded.

"I know," he says. "It was the same when I was a student. Too soon. Come on."

He hugs her harder for a too short second and then takes off with quick strides. When they reach the gates, she is flushed and a little out of breath. He seems totally unaffected and even a little dismissive.

I'm keeping him from going to support Remus. Why didn't he tell me when Harry and Ron left?

Professor McGonagall waits for them on the other side of the iron gates. She is wrapped in a large fur coat and a tartan deerhunter hat, and she looks totally unaware of the sub-zero temperature.

"Minerva," Sirius greets her. "Good to see you."

"And you, Sirius. How are you holding up? I know Albus is working on getting the charges against you dropped. Even Severus has witnessed that Peter isn't dead. But now this Tournament takes all his time. I wish…"

Sirius holds up his hands.

"I'm all right, Minerva. Really. I have Remus, and if worst comes to worst, I can always go to London. Grimmauld Place is totally unplottable, even though I don't really care for the place."

Hermione feels as if she isn't there and is just about to slink through the gates, when professor McGonagall turns to her, but without saying anything. She doesn't understand the expression in her professor's eyes. Pity? Worry? The older woman then turns back to Sirius with a similar, indecipherable look. In the corner of her eye Hermione sees Sirius make a small gesture with his head in her direction. Like there are things he would discuss with her professor if she herself weren't there.

"I'll just… well, good night then. Thank you, Sirius for walking me."

Instantly he turns to her and a smile she couldn't hear in his voice a second ago warms her right down to her toes.

"Good night, Hermione." He leans down and kisses her softly on her cheek. He smells like the forest in the summer. Wood and grass and a hint of pine resin. Before she can react he has withdrawn, and she slips through the gates and begins to walk towards the castle.

After a few yards professor McGonagall calls to her.

"Wait there for me, Miss Granger. I'll just ask Mr Black about something."

Hermione stops and looks back at the two grown ups at the gates. The scene is still very picturesque. She hears snippets of their conversation and tries to look as if she hears nothing at all.

"... so sorry, Sirius."

"… nothing you could do, Minerva."

"I wish time would have been kinder to you. You of all people deserve it."

Sirius shrugs at this. Hermione doesn't understand what they are talking about. His incarceration? Being wanted? His family? But why "time"? He leans closer to the professor and Hermione can only pick up a few words.

"… time comes… … send her back to me… … pray for…"

Hermione sees professor McGonagall cup Sirius' face with her hand and then nod. The next second Sirius takes a step back and waves to her before he turns around and leaves. Hermione lifts her hand and returns his wave.