Chapter Four - Campfire Meeting

From the door of the tent, Sirius looked out on the campfire's dying glow. There was very little else holding back the night, save the waning crescent that already hung low on the horizon. He watched as Hermione - older, now, grown to adulthood - buried something in the remains of the fire. She sat, deep in thought, and he couldn't help being proud of the responsible person she seemed to have grown into. He wondered why she was out in the middle of a forest, living in a tent, but the ward she'd created wasn't just powerful, it was elegant. A beautiful thing to behold, even with his dog-sight. Coming upon that barrier had given him an intense feeling of hope - at least the canine variety, which felt like the assurance of a good ear-scratch - and he'd realized then that he was somewhere very like home. The magic was familiar, as comforting as the scent of leaves or the way the dust felt in his fur.

And then, the magic had turned out to be Hermione's.

He recalled the words that Hel had spoken to him: he couldn't have his old life back, could not be anywhere over which she held sway, if he were to live on. So, wherever he was, there was no Hel, or she wasn't in control of the realm of the dead. But here he was, on Earth again, in England again, and where does he land on his feet? Of all the doorsteps in all the world, it had been hers.

The fates, perhaps, were kind after all.

He'd worried so much about those children, Harry and his friends, who had been at the center of so much of the chaos that had engulfed their lives, though it had also given him a new one. And here was definitive proof of their tenacity, their brilliance - Hermione had survived to become an incredibly powerful witch.

He hoped - he prayed - that Harry was still alive here, too.

That thought brought him out of his reverie. There was so much he didn't know, and so much he had missed in, what had she said? More than ten years? There was only one way to find out.

When he tried to speak, all that came out was a small croak, but Hermione was alert at once, rising abruptly when she saw him. He couldn't see her eyes, but her voice sounded as raw with emotion as he felt. "You...I almost didn't believe," she stammered as he stepped into the circle of firelight. "How is this even possible?"

Sirius felt his eyes mist over, full of pride and joy and gratitude. "Merlin's beard, I don't know myself. But you!" He clasped her by the shoulders and stood back at arm's length, trying to see the girl he'd known in the woman before him. "Please," he said, taking her hand, "come sit, and tell me what happened!"

Hermione motioned to the camp stools, across the fire from where Loki was sitting motionless, ensconced in the chair. As they sat, she gave Sirius a quizzical look. "You don't know? Where have you been that you don't know?"

Sirius shook his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. "I don't actually know that, either. Not for certain. I'll tell you everything about it - but first, please tell me...did Harry make it? Is he...?"

Hermione temporarily laid aside her desire to know all, and took a small delight in being able to share a tiny morsel of good news. "We won. Harry won, actually. Part of Voldemort's soul had been trapped in Harry's scar, and there was a prophecy at the Department of Mysteries about them: 'Neither can live while the other survives.' Harry sacrificed himself so Voldemort would be well and truly dead. He did it for us...for all of us..." Her voice trailed off into silence. She marveled at that, still.

Sirius emitted a small, strangled gasp, but Hermione spoke up quickly. "No," she said, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "you don't understand. He came back."

He wasn't as thunderstruck as Hermione might have anticipated. Sirius was silent for a long moment, but it was pensive silence. "He...was dead, and came back?" he mused, staring into the middle distance.

Hermione nodded. "I still don't understand completely how it happened. Harry still won't talk about it much. He doesn't seem bothered by it, though. He's...free."

Sirius's expression was grim. "He had so much riding on him, didn't he? And what do you do, after you've saved the world?"

A chuckling sigh escaped from Hermione. "Apparently, you heal it. He tried going for the Auror squad but it wasn't right for him. He's apprenticing at St. Mungo's." She looked briefly worried, but hid it with a smirk. "Alright, it's your turn. Where have you been? I can hardly believe it's been so long, to look at you."

He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a sheepish grin. "You may be more right than you know. I don't think it has been that long, for me." Hermione had that eyebrow raised again, but she was still listening, at least. He shook his head to clear it, and started again. "In the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix pushed me through the Veil. When I landed, I was somewhere else - and still alive."

Hermione's frown returned. "That can't be. She killed you. I heard her use the Killing Curse. You were dead before you fell."

"Actually," he said, measuring his words, "there may be an explanation for that. Where I went, I...met someone, who told me that I couldn't return to my old life. That I could find a way to another place - another world, I thought. She talked of many realms that she had power over, but hinted that there might be another place where I would be allowed to live."

This was the first that Hermione had noticed the change in him - Sirius was less agitated, more quiet of spirit than she'd ever known him to be. Brow furrowed, she listened on.

"I had no idea where I'd end up," he continued. "Could have been on top of a volcano, for all I knew - but what did I have to lose? I followed my nose, and here I am. With this chap." He glanced behind him at the man he'd followed here, then looked again. "Wait," he said, bending over to whisper near Hermione's ear, "he wasn't blue before, was he?"

"No," came a low growl from the recumbent figure, "he wasn't."