Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: This is the last of the Sirius chapters. (Apparently the pattern is that it's three chapters per event.) I think there is enough of a setup in here for the next one, though.

Hermione and Ron look at each other once Harry and Remus have gone, and by mutual silent consent, they turn from the kitchen and go up to Ron's bedroom. Ginny has gone to her own room, and it's clear to Hermione that her friend wishes she could do more to help the boy she clearly cares for, but there's nothing either of them can do about that right now.

"Why do you think Remus came?" Ron asks as they sit side by side on his bed. Hermione tries not to roll her eyes.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Ronald? He's as upset about Sirius as Harry is, and he feels responsible for him now that he's the only one left of that group of friends. I think it's good that he came. Harry needs to know that he still has someone out there who cares about him."

"We care about him," Ron says indignantly, and Hermione nods absently, getting up to tidy the room.

"Of course we do, but we're his friends. He needs someone older. That's why this Sirius thing has been so hard for him. It's like losing his parents twice." Her hands still as she thinks about what she's just said, and she shakes her head, staring off into space. "I can't even imagine," she mumbles.

Ron doesn't even answer her now. He can't. Just the thought of losing a parent – or anyone in his family, for that matter – is unfathomable to him, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. He suddenly realizes what Hermione is doing, though, and he sighs with exasperation.

"Will you stop that?" he asks her, and she ignores him. The room looks like a cyclone has hit it, and she moves over to the corner where Harry's things are as she tries to restore some sense of order. She can't blame Mrs. Weasley for not cleaning her sons' rooms. This is hideous.

"Honestly, don't the two of you ever pick anything up when you drop it?" she asks, and Ron is drawing in a breath to strenuously object when he realizes that she's holding something in her hands and that she's suddenly standing very, very still.

"Hermione, what is it?" he asks, and he gets up and crosses the room to her. She turns to him slowly, and she is holding a stack of what must be letters in her hand. He can't understand why her hand is shaking, though.

"So it's letters," he says when she still says nothing. "They must have fallen out of Harry's trunk. What's the big deal?"

Now she turns them to face him, and he is surprised to see her name scrawled untidily across the first paper. He shrugs.

"Well, maybe he was planning on giving it to you and he forgot?"

Still without speaking, she thumbs through the stack and then holds up another for him to see. This one has his name on it, and Ron's eyes widen in surprise.

"Oi," he says, "hand that over."

Hermione looks at him skeptically. "No way. These are Harry's."

"Hermione," Ron says patiently, "our names are on these. The Dursleys probably just wouldn't let Harry let Hedwig out of the cage. I'm sure he was planning on giving them to us."

Hermione is not convinced, but she's also very curious, so she reluctantly sorts through the pile, handing Ron his letters and saving her own. Once she's finished and they each have four letters, they each pull up a corner of Ron's bed and begin reading.

For a long time, neither of them speaks. Hermione reads the last letter through blurred eyes, and when she finishes, she's afraid to look at Ron. If his letters are anything like hers, she can't imagine how HE feels to be reading them – Ron, who has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Finally, she brings herself to put down the letters and look up. Ron is staring into space, a blank look on his face.

"Ron?" she whispers, and he turns to her. He might not be registering any expression whatsoever, but his face is whiter than it was when he started reading, and his freckles stand out. This is how she knows that he's feeling this too, this despair that is now threatening to engulf her. And that's when they hear Harry's footsteps on the stairs.

"Quick," she hisses, grabbing the letters from Ron and leaping across the room to shove them back in the trunk. She suddenly knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry CANNOT find them with these letters in their hands. Nothing could be clearer to her right now than the fact that these were never something they were supposed to read.

She just makes it back to the bed in time for Harry to open the door and come inside. He jumps in surprise to see both of them, and then he tugs uncomfortably at his hair, making it even messier than it normally is. Hermione catches a glimpse of his eyes and immediately understands why, and she is about to find a tactful way to leave Harry alone when he notices that someone's been in his trunk.

"What's going on in here?" he asks as he walks over to the corner of the room. He turns to Ron. "Were you looking for something? You could have just asked …." He stops. Because the letters he inexplicably never threw away are suddenly on top of everything else, and it's obvious that they've been unfolded and – with all likelihood – read. He is frozen in place and doesn't know whether to scream at his friends or try to hide from them.

Very slowly, he turns around, and now he sees something he hadn't noticed when he entered the room. Hermione looks like she's on the verge of tears, and Ron – Ron looks like someone has clubbed him over the head. And Harry knows he has to try to laugh this off, or he'll be facing looks like these from the two of them for the rest of the summer if not the entire school year.

He tries to force a smile (even though he's pretty sure it looks more like a grimace) and says, "I see you found the decoys I was leaving for the Dursleys. I figured it'd make them feel sorry for me and maybe even let me play Dudley's video games. It didn't work, but it was worth a shot, right?"

He is disappointed in himself. Five years in Hogwarts getting out of all sorts of terrifying scrapes, and the best he can come up with is video games?

Hermione sighs. "Harry, it's ok," she says softly. Her voice is shaky, and he suddenly can't look at her. It would almost be better if Ron had said something because Harry's willing to bet that Ron is just eager as he is to pretend things are normal. Hermione won't do that. And now she's talking again.

"We're sorry we read them," she continues, "but I was trying to clean up in here, and then I saw those, and our names were on them. We would NEVER have picked them up if they hadn't been."

Harry nods abruptly. He knows. And that's really all that needs to be said.

"Ok," he says shortly. He won't look at Hermione, but he hopes she'll take the hint. He is aware of Ron sending Hermione a stop talking look, but she shakes her head impatiently.

"We're worried about you," she says quietly. "Those letters – well, you sounded pretty awful in them. We just want to make sure that you know that you really aren't alone. We're here. We always will be."

Harry is horrified to realize that the lump is in his throat again. He swallows hard. "Thanks," he whispers. "I do know."

He is staring at his feet when he is aware of a movement out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't need to look up to know that Hermione has moved to sit beside him, and he hopes with all of his might that she won't touch him. It might even be ok if they were alone, but Ron is there and he can NOT hear him cry. But it turns out that Ron wants that even less than he does, and he suddenly bolts from the room.

Harry has no time to think about why Ron has run or what he must think of him now because Hermione has put her hand on his shoulder. And even as he struggles to hold it all in, he knows he's fighting a losing battle, so he does the only thing he can think of to keep Hermione from looking at him. He grabs her into a crushing hug, burying his face in her shoulder, hoping this will muffle the sobs he can no longer suppress. And she holds on tightly in silence, knowing that speech is the last thing he needs right now.

It's a long time before he lets go, and Hermione is tactful enough to look away to give him a chance to wipe his eyes and compose himself. And when Ron comes back in a few minutes later, she knows he'd been waiting in the hall, and she is floored by his tact – which is only more impressive when he smoothly starts a conversation about Quidditch, also giving Harry a chance to regain his pride.

They really are best friends, Hermione realizes. She just wonders if they'll ever let the other be there when it really counts.