A/N: Don't you hate re-reading your work and discovering continuity errors? This is what copy editors are for. Sigh. Everyone is sixteen, some going on seventeen, and I'm just stating that to assuage my own guilty conscience.
Fic rec: "Roundabout Destiny" by Mary Royale. I have been re-reading this almost non-stop since discovering it two weeks ago, easily one of my favorite Hermione time travel stories. Go read it now!
Reviewers/follower/favoriters – thank you! You keep me motivated. Let me know what you think of my budding Sirius/Hermione romance.
A few disclaimers: smoking is bad. Underage drinking/drinking to excess is bad, especially while melancholy. Don't have sex til you're married. (Or emotionally connected, or bored... wait, I'm invalidating this disclaimer. No sex til you're married!) Eat your vegetables and brush your teeth.
The next time the Dark Lord summoned him, Lucius was reviewing the first quarter profits of his family's company, Malfoy's Magicks. His father had been in ill-health of late – the Healers thought he had contracted dragon pox, unusual for a wizard in his late fifties but not unheard of – and Lucius was now head of the family and the company in all but name. Narcissa was proud of him, as was his mother, but Lucius was stretched too thin to feel anything but weariness.
His Mark burned painfully, indicating that Voldemort was impatient. Concentrating on the fine thread of pain that connected his soul to the Dark Lord's, Lucius apparated through the wards around his Wiltshire manor. He immediately knelt upon landing in the vicinity of his master, inwardly smirking over his smooth and almost soundless appearance, and noted that they were in some dirty hovel. Not really the kind of place where a society made of the finest wizardkind had to offer should meet, but Lucius knew better than to voice his protestations. Voldemort's Crucio was the most painful version of the spell he had ever encountered, worse than Abraxas Malfoy's by a wide margin.
Five 'pops' later, the Death Eaters were assembled and the Dark Lord spoke. "Much better this time, I am pleased. There are a few urgent matters to discuss this evening, and then I have tasks for a select few of my most capable Death Eaters. Firstly, darling Bella, have you communicated with your young relative?"
Lucius's sister-in-law nodded. "Regulus was most clever in his correspondence, my Lord. I am amazed that this information has not come to light previously, but Reggie thought to send his letter by house elf instead of owl." She giggled girlishly. "The Blacks are all clever like that."
Voldemort smiled, however his red eyes were bored. "Yes, they are a fine example of what every pureblooded family should aspire to be." Bellatrix blushed. "And what did darling Reggie have to say?"
"Well, my Lord, a girl appeared in the middle of the Welcome Feast in a flash of golden light. She handed a letter to the Headmaster, and now she has been Sorted into Gryffindor." Murmurs burst out among the Death Eaters, but they were silenced with a glare from Voldemort. "Regulus believes she must have entered the castle by Dark means, since, as one of his professors stated, there is no way to simply appear on the grounds of Hogwarts."
"Which teacher?" Lucius rolled his eyes behind his mask, thankful that Voldemort's back was to him. His master's obsession with the school was completely out of proportion to its importance.
"He did not say, my Lord." Voldemort nodded.
"And he was certain that this was the only possible source of Dark magic at Hogwarts that evening?"
"That is the clever part, my Lord. Regulus suggested that her appearance might have been a cover for Darker events-" Lucius snorted delicately, and Bellatrix glared at him. Lucius had no love for his wife's cousins. Walburga was insane, Orion henpecked, Sirius spoiled and arrogant... actually, Regulus had the most potential out of the whole family, if he grew to be a man of conviction. But his suggestion was in no way clever or likely to be true.
"Unlikely," the Dark Lord said, with a quelling glare at Lucius. "But an interesting theory. Did he say anything else?"
"Only that the girl is rumored to be brilliant with a wand. And also that she is a Mudblood." More murmurs, louder this time. Voldemort sneered in distaste.
"Very well, you have given me much to ponder. We will discuss this at a later time." He stood a little straighter and continued. "I believe it is time for us to forward our true agenda: to make wizards the predominant race upon this earth. It is now time for us to begin to assert our authority over Muggles by more... direct means."
The Death Eaters cheered, and Lucius nodded. That was the most excitement it was decorous to show, after all. His life had been so stressful of late, and now, finally, it was time for some fun!
Friday looked to be the last nice day Hogwarts would have that year – cool, crisp, with fluffy clouds scooting across the autumn sky. Hermione had butterflies in her stomach all day, mind racing ahead to her scheduled after-dinner walk about the lake with Sirius.
It wasn't a date.
It wasn't a date!
...Right?
Hermione knew all about Sirius's past with women – the man himself had shared some of them with her when she was deemed old enough to drink firewhiskey with him in the den of Grimmauld Place. He had laughed even harder at her disapproval and shock, but one night things had gone differently.
"Honestly, Sirius," Hermione said, taking a prim sip of her firewhiskey while Harry rolled his eyes, "didn't you care about any of those girls?"
"I certainly meant them no harm," he said with a wink. Then his face turned thoughtful. "It's not like they cared about me either. It was a sort of mutual using. I would never take advantage of a woman who didn't know what she was getting into."
Hermione looked at Sirius, surprised. Not that she had ever assumed he was taking advantage, but she had never heard it put like that. Naturally she had put herself in the shoes of the women he seduced, knowing how she would feel when this handsome and charismatic man left her behind for someone prettier, or sexier. She would feel used, dirty, and unimportant. It had never occurred to her that Sirius might feel the same way, given that he covered up any deeper emotions with a wink and great good humor.
"Ever the gentleman, eh, Padfoot?" Remus asked with an edge to his voice, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. She realized that she had been staring at Sirius, and he had been staring back.
"Of course," Sirius said with a toss of his shoulder-length black hair and a clearing of his throat. "A pureblood must be a gentleman at all times."
"Good thing I'm off the hook then," Harry said.
"Harry, your parents were both magical. Why on earth wouldn't you be considered a pureblood?" Hermione asked. All three men stopped and looked at her. Maybe it was the whiskey or her new-found guilt over making assumptions about Sirius, but she felt a little irritable. "I mean, there had to be a first witch and wizard, right? Probably descended from Muggles themselves. Everyone comes from Muggles, who came from apes, who came from Africa. Really all this blood purity tosh is... is... bloody ridiculous!"
Sirius was the first to start laughing, followed quickly by Harry and Remus. Hermione started chuckling soon after, carried away by their merriment.
"Don't ever change, kitten," Sirius said, laying a warm and supremely masculine hand on her arm. "Don't you ever change."
Admittedly she had had a bit of a crush on the dashing ex-con, but it was just one of those unattainable fantasies all bright teenage girls have about experienced older men. Young Sirius, with his unexpected shyness, was much more in her league. Sort of. Not that she would consider anything more. Timelines to maintain and things like that.
Though how much of the timeline she knew was disrupted by her very presence? She still needed to talk to Dumbledore about that. Maybe...
No, I will not ruin the future for a cute boy. No matter how cute. And puppy-dog like. And... for gods' sake, Granger, get it together!
Hermione considered changing clothes before going down to dinner, looking over the Sharing Table for outfit options. She had not told the other girls that she was going for a walk with Sirius, already fairly confident in what their response would be. Disapproval from Amelia; shock then disappointment then disapproval from Lily; a different sort of shock (a much less flattering kind) from the more girly roommates, followed swiftly by disapproval.
Nope, better play it safe and stick with her uniform. Not like she could show off anything fun anyway, between the scar on her chest from Dolohov's curse in the Department of Mysteries and the scar on her arm from Bellatrix...
No! This was not a date!
Hermione did take some time to fix her hair in the mirror before leaving the dorm, sleeking it down a potion Hestia had given her. She did not consider herself to be drop-dead gorgeous, but she knew she was pretty enough (if only her hair would behave consistently). Sure, she wasn't classically beautiful like the Watson twins, Honoria and Hestia, nor was she slightly exotic, like Marlene (whose mother was a Greek witch). Still, her eyes were a nice shape and her lips were curved and pouty.
She wondered if Sirius...
Oh for the love of little green apples, this is not a date!
Still, her eyes found Sirius's as soon as she entered the Great Hall. He smiled broadly at her, that happy grin that reminded her of his Animagus form. Dogs have a particular kind of smile, wide and carefree and joyous. Sirius's smile was just like that, and it was impossible for her to not beam back at him.
The butterflies in her stomach turned into frogs, hopping and prancing so much she would be surprised if she ate much of anything.
Not a date!
She sat with Lily and Amelia for dinner, halfway along the table and out of earshot of the Marauders. They talked quietly about the week's lessons and what they planned to do that weekend. Apparently Gryffindor tradition, for the upper years, was to celebrate the end of the full first week of classes by throwing a party in the common room after curfew on Saturday. Her seat-mates seemed unlikely to attend, but Hermione thought they could be persuaded. If anything, sober people would be needed to contain the natural Gryffindor exuberance of their classmates.
And maybe just maybe she felt like she had earned a firewhiskey.
"Ready, Hermione?" Sirius asked. She snapped to attention, not even realizing that he had come to her side of the table and was standing right behind her.
"Ready for what?" Lily asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione beat him to it.
"Oh, Sirius and I are going for a walk down by the lake," she said.
All six girls immediately protested, loudly enough that the whole Great Hall looked in their direction, in exactly the way Hermione had predicted. Sirius looked a little worried, and maybe even a little resigned, under his carefully defiant expression – though she suspected she could tell that because she knew him well enough. Well, she knew his future self so well. Would know him so well? Tenses are confusing.
Hermione held up a hand, and the girls' voices subsided. "I'm sure he will be a perfect gentleman, won't you, Sirius?" Hermione turned to look at the gray-eyed Gryffindor, who seemed shocked that she would stand up for him to her dorm-mates. "Won't you?" she repeated.
"Of course," he said, extending a hand to help her up from her seat. "I'm fairly certain you would hex me into oblivion if I didn't." Hermione laughed, grabbing her satchel. To her surprise, Sirius took it from her and put it over his shoulder and offered his arm in a decidedly old-fashioned gesture.
"Well, maybe not into oblivion," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "But at least in the neighborhood." She took his arm and he led her out of the Great Hall, away from the gaping mouths and disbelieving stares of their year-mates.
Sirius could not stop smiling as he led Hermione, on his arm (thanks for all the manners lessons, mother!), past his gaping friends and outside the stifling stone walls of Hogwarts. James looked livid, Peter confused, but Moony didn't seem surprised at all. Sirius didn't care about them, though. His thoughts were completely on Hermione. Not only had she shown faith in him again, but the whole Great Hall had seen it.
If he was Padfoot right now, his tail would be wagging.
"You are going to be a gentleman, right?" Hermione asked when they were a sufficient distance from the Great Hall. His heart fell for a moment, until he turned and saw the mischievous grin on his face.
"Only if you'll act the lady," he responded, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione laughed and whacked his arm with her free hand.
"Their faces! I know you have a reputation, Sirius, but I didn't think I had accumulated one in the short week I've been here." He laughed with her, enjoying the musical sound of their merriment intertwining. He had never really joked around with a girl like this.
"They probably think I'm going to seduce you," Sirius said.
"This would have to be a date for you to do that," Hermione said, looking away from him. Again, his heart fell.
"Isn't it?"
"Isn't it what?"
"A date?"
"Is it?" Her voice was disbelieving and, he wished, hopeful.
"I don't know, don't think I've ever been on a proper date before," Sirius said, pretending to ponder. "What would make it a date?"
Hermione, picking up on his playful mood easily, tapped her chin with the forefinger of her free hand. "Well, flowers would be a nice start."
"Orchidium," Sirius said immediately, producing a beautiful bouquet of stargazer lilies from his wand. He disentangled his arm from Hermione's and offered the flowers to her with a bow. She giggled, a supremely feminine sound he had never heard from her before. He wanted to make her do that again.
"What else?" he asked, taking her arm again and leading her to his favorite spot by the lake, near a copse of silver birch trees.
"Getting to know each other," Hermione said. She wordlessly Conjured a Gryffindor-red blanket for them to sit on. "Although, I should warn you, there's a lot about myself I can't talk about."
Sirius thought about that for a moment. Hermione was a mystery – that's part of what he found attractive, really – but she had to tell him about herself eventually, right? He must have been silent for longer than he thought, because Hermione said in a very different voice. "Or we can just sit here and not talk."
"No, I'm sorry. I just, well, this is probably the part of the date that I have the least experience with." He grinned roguishly to take some of the bite out of the honesty of that statement, but her eyes filled with sympathy anyway. She glanced back at the trees surrounding them.
"You know, the silver birch is said to symbolize new beginnings and cleansing of the past." She turned those beautiful brown eyes back on him. "We don't have to know everything about each other just yet but, maybe they'll help us get started."
"Is there anything you don't know?" Sirius asked, with a gentler smile than before. She was so brilliant.
"Yes, but I'm working on it." They both laughed and conversation flowed from there. He told her a bit about his upbringing – she had a lot of questions, being Muggle-born, about what purebloods experienced in their childhoods. There was no reason to go into every sordid detail, but they found enough to keep them occupied.
He talked a bit about how he became friends with Remus, after first explaining that he had practically grown up with James. "So you became friends because he helped you with a Transfiguration essay?" she asked, smiling. "Thought you of all people would be brilliant at that." Sirius raised an elegant eyebrow. Surely she didn't know... no, that was impossible. No one knew.
"Yep, he's a good friend and a better homework helper," he said. Hermione laughed.
"That's what Ron always said-" she cut off abruptly, her eyes filling with sadness.
"Who's Ron?" Sirius asked, curious for a peek into Hermione's life before she appeared in a flash of golden light.
Hermione looked away, out over the lake, and took a shuddering breath. "He was one of my best friends. He's dead now."
Sirius was silent for a moment. He desperately hoped she wouldn't cry – he didn't know how to handle crying girls. She took another shuddering breath and squared her shoulders. "Sorry, it was recently, sort of, and-"
Sirius reached out and touched her hand, surprised at how small and feminine it felt beneath his calloused hands. "Like you said, we don't have to talk about everything today, right?"
Hermione nodded. "It's getting late, we should be getting back."
Night's cloak was spreading across the sky, the jewels of her garment twinkling, as the two Gryffindors made their way back to the Tower. Somewhere along the way Sirius had taken her hand in his again, enjoying the feel of her palm pressed against his. He had kissed many girls, and done much else besides, but this... this was different.
Still, he really wanted to kiss her. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as they quietly made their way back to the dormitory, still under the melancholy of their last topic of discussion.
"I'm sorry I killed the mood," she said as they neared the portrait hole.
"Oh, you think there was a mood then?" he asked, allowing a bit of flirtatiousness into his voice. Hermione blushed – yet another thing he wanted to see, repeatedly.
"I don't know," she said, suddenly shy.
By unspoken agreement they stopped at the last turn before the portrait of the Fat Lady. Sirius turned and took both of Hermione's hands in his.
"Hermione," he said quietly. "You don't have to be shy with me, not after all the things I've told you about myself down by the lake." Her eyes met his and he smiled. "You know, I don't usually talk to girls like this. Most of them don't seem-" he swallowed, shying away from the vulnerability in his own voice. He wanted to say that most girls didn't seem interested in getting to know him, other than in the biblical sense, but could not bring himself to voice that thought.
"I know," she said. "More the fools they. You are worth knowing, Sirius."
"Why are you so sure of that?" he asked. How could this woman drop out of the sky and already be so sure of him, when girls he had known for six years just assumed he was a walking erection?
She squeezed his hands. "Need I remind you? Good man? Worth knowing? Is any of that sinking into your thick head, Sirius Black?"
He chuckled. She was something else – melancholy one moment, mischievously brilliant the next. Hermione Granger was easily the least boring girl he had ever met. "You're something else, kitten. Don't ever change."
Hermione went very still, staring hard at him. He raised her left hand to his mouth and kissed the back in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Normally at this point in the date I would be snogging you senseless, but I did promise to be a gentleman." He did not miss the flash of heat in her eyes at the mention of snogging, but chose not to press his luck. Hermione seemed to believe in him, for whatever reason. No one besides his friends did that, and he was desperate enough to not throw that away on a few kisses.
No, those lessons were sinking into his thick skull just fine.
"So this was a date then?" Hermione asked, a little breathlessly.
"Oh yes, and tomorrow night's will be too."
Her answering smile put the stars to shame.