Suggested Listening: Lullaby by The Cure

The world was tinged purple. She hated purple. Around her the walls moved, folding over themselves as she continued on. What concerned her now was that she didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to run. Blood pumped in her veins and banged against her temples as her lungs began to burn, her hurried steps out of rhythm with the symphony in her mind. She needed to stop, needed to breathe and find herself.

Knees aching, she skidded to a halt and bent over as she tried to slow her breathing. She counted each inhale and exhale, just as she'd been told, no matter how shaky and shallow they were. That was when the walls jerked around her, pulling back into the darkness as if they'd been tugged by unseen ropes. Panic began to set in and her heart beat accelerated as she looked around with wide eyes. She knew where she was then.

Purple seemed to flash around her like lightening and she jumped, her mouth going suddenly dry. She froze, her breath stolen from her as pain rippled through her. Every nerve ending was on fire, pulsing beneath skin and muscle as her body crumpled to the floor in a heap. The only conscious thought she had was that this wasn't supposed to be happening, not any more.

The scream that ripped through her throat woke her and she shot up in her bed. Chest heaving, her hands gripped the soaked bedcovers that were now tangled around her. Hermione forced herself to look around, her neck stiff as she turned to and fro. "One wardrobe, two bedside tables. Three windows. Four pillows. Five photographs," she whispered to herself, pausing only to reverse the order and then repeat them back again.

After what seemed like hours her breathing began to even out and her muscles relaxed. It was all just a dream, a bloody fucking dream. Her hands shook as she pushed the hem of her soaked nightshirt up her stomach. Even in the dark of her bedroom she could see the purple line and it made her hate the color all over again.

The corner of the mattress dipped down and Crookshanks slowly ambled towards her, his squished face somehow managing to convey concern for his witch. Holding her hand out to him, he pressed his head up against her palm, nudging it gently before moving to lean against her side. The simple affection from her familiar made her burst into tears and the creature let his mistress bury her face in his thick fur and sob.

There was plenty that she could be doing, but that knowledge wasn't enough to motivate her. She'd stumbled around her flat leaving a trail of open books and scraps of parchment filled with notes and half completed Arithmancy notes in her wake. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to distract her mind or keep her hands from shaking. The truth was she was tired and her bones ached and life just felt like too much to try and deal with.

Covers pulled up around her shoulders, Hermione stared at the far wall. She should eat something, change clothes and take a shower, fix the crooked picture frame on the wall. As soon as those thoughts came into her mind she argued against them and continued to lay there. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, though a few still trickled from the corners of her eyes. It surprised her that she even had any tears left, but then her hands would violently shake and she'd begin to sob all over again.

She had only been vaguely aware of the progression of time, and she couldn't seem to find it in her to cast a simple Tempus charm. Shadows began to stretch out over her bedroom walls as the sun rose in the sky and she figured that it had to have been past noon. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she sighed and turned to press her face into the mattress.

"Kitten?"

Hermione didn't move from beneath her pile of blankets and couldn't seem to remember if she'd heard her Floo activate or not. There was always the possibility that she was imagining things, but when she felt his hand in her hair she knew it wasn't that. She heard him sigh and shuffle beside the bed before she felt the heavy dip in the mattress.

She hated her own weakness all over again as her body trembled and he pulled her close. Swallowing thickly, she tried not to dwell on the fact that she knew he could feel her, or that her face was blotchy from all of the tears she'd shed.

"You haven't eaten anything, have you?" he asked as his hand gently brushed her curls back from her face. When she just nodded he pulled her closer, her small body almost on top of his as he held her close. "A little something on your stomach will help with the tremors. I can fix you some toast if you want, love."

"Alright," she replied, her voice raw from tears and screams and lack of sleep.

His hand combed through her hair, the pads of his fingers pressing into her scalp. Hermione let her eyes close again and she could feel her body begin to relax against him. Maybe it was the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear or his hand in her hair that worked to set her so at ease. Either way he was making it difficult to move.

It was almost as if he could sense her dilemma and he shifted beneath her. Carefully, he pulled her up with him and tucked her hair back behind her ears. The smile he gave her was small, but was his eyes that held her attention. When Sirius Black looked at her there was no pity, concern surely, but certainly not pity. The realization was almost jarring.

"Why don't you go freshen up a bit, yeah?" he suggested as his hand found hers and gave it a little squeeze. "I'll be right outside and you can take as long as you like. I'll wait for you."

What had started out as a mission to wash her face and clean her teeth had led to a full shower. Though she hadn't trusted her legs to keep her up, she was more than content to sit on the shower floor while hot water poured over her skin. When she finally emerged her bathroom was filled with steam and she was sure that she felt almost human, even more so after she'd brushed her teeth.

Dressed in an oversized knit jumper and a pair of leggings, Hermione shuffled down the hall towards her sitting room. Sirius was still there, as he'd said he'd be, sitting on her sofa with his long legs sprawled out in front of him and Crookshanks curled up on his lap. He looked up when she came in the room, a smile spreading over his lips.

"Feeling a bit better?" he asked as he nodded towards the empty space beside him on the couch.

It was all too easy to curl up beside him, her feet tucked beneath her as she leaned against him. She pushed her damp hair back from her face before pulling the sleeves of her jumper down over her fingers. "Yeah. A bit," she replied, not trusting herself to say any more in that moment. There was something about him caring enough to pull her up out of her own bed and take care of her that made her want to cry all over again.

"I believe I promised you toast, but you seem to be out of bread," he said, chuckling as he heard her groan. "Hush you, I've got it taken care of. How does takeaway sound?"

"Fattening," she replied, the corner of her mouth lifting up into a smirk. "But, I think I can eat a bit."

"A bit is all I ask, kitten."

Silence settled around them and she found that she was more than content to sit there curled up beside him as her familiar purred up a storm. Her fingers curled around his wrist and pulled his hand over to rest on her lap. It was so easy to be pulled in by him, to want to study his every movement and she had readily allowed herself to be pulled in by his gravity. How was it that one man could hold such endless fascinations, she wondered as her fingertip trailed over his knuckles and the lines of his tattoos. There was a small part of her mind telling her that she ought to pull away, to sit over in her chair, but she didn't move, not even an inch.

She found herself mesmerized by the black around his fingernails, no doubt the remnants of engine grease that had refused to be washed away. His hands were rough and calloused, everything that an aristocrat's shouldn't be, but they suited him so perfectly. Her mind couldn't help but recall how his fingers had felt in her hair earlier and how she wished he would do it again, and maybe even give a little tug. The thought made her blush.

"I've been working on my bike," he said and she was certain that his voice was an octave lower than before. "Maybe I'll take you for a ride soon."

Hermione sat up just enough to look him in the eye. "No way in hell, Sirius. There is no way you're going to get me onto that thing. You know I hate flying."

"So I'll just put a Sticking Charm on your arse." He gave her a wide grin and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"No."

"Aw, kitten. Don't commit just yet. Not when I'm willing to sit through whatever film you pick out while we eat. Hell, you can even paint my nails and tell me what juicy gossip you've picked up from the Ministry."

She couldn't help it, she laughed. Her eyes screwed shut as she tossed back her head and pressed her hand briefly to her mouth. "I don't have any black polish," she said after she'd calmed down.

"That's alright. I'm not opposed to red."

Hermione never got around to painting his nails, but she did eat more than she thought she was capable of before curling up next to him again after selecting an old James Bond film. The trouble was that she didn't remember much beyond seeing the body of a naked woman covered in gold paint. Not sleeping much the previous evening and the state that she'd been in for the majority of the day had left her completely exhausted.

Consciousness came back to her slowly, urged on by the feeling of his fingers moving through her hair. "Wake up, kitten," she heard him say, his voice soft over the repetitive din of the dvd menu.

Opening her eyes, her brows knit themselves together in confusion. Somehow or another she'd ended up with her head in his lap and Crookshanks curled up on the side of her hip. It was not, she decided, the worst way to wake up.

"What time is it?" she asked as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

Sirius gave a quick wave of his wand and the time floated in front of them for a moment before disappearing without a trace. "Dinner time apparently," he replied as his fingertips rubbed small circles against her scalp. "You still have some soup left, kitten. You want me to reheat it?"

Shaking her head, she shooed Crookshanks off of her and slowly sat up. "You don't have to do that. I've already taken up too much of your day," she replied, her fingers picking at the hem of her jumper as she tried to get her eyes to focus.

"Hey," he said as his hand curled over her shoulder and turned her towards him. "Don't do that. Don't let yourself think that you aren't worth spending time with. I happened to like sitting here with you all afternoon. I'd do it again tomorrow if you'd let me."

For a moment she just sat there, her eyes searching his for some sort of hint that he was just saying all of that to be polite. But all she could see was his sincerity, even when the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. Swallowing thickly, Hermione finally nodded. "I'd let you, Sirius."

His smile widened and he wrapped one of her curls around his finger before giving it a gentle tug. "Maybe we'll get around to painting each others nails then."

Once again a massive thank you to my amazing beta, starrnobella. You are just wonderful. And thank you so much to those who have reviewed and added this story to their alerts and favorites, it means so much to me. Please do continue to review as I love hearing for each of you, and each reivew I get makes me ridiculously happy.

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