Thank you all so much for your reviews because I have broken the 50 mark. A special thank you to waterflower20 for being my fiftieth review!
Sorry this update took so long. I ran into a small writer's block and got mildly discouraged. I am also in the process of posting "Operation" at Granger Enchanted (if you are not a member, you should definitely join. They have a very high quality standard—which I have discovered from experience—so you are assured to find good solid pieces) and the beta-ing is taking up more time than I expected.
Again, I am sorry about the long time between updates in general, but I have no plans on abandoning this story. Despite my abominable lack of an update schedule, I will write this story to its conclusion. Please, just bear with me.
Side note: I know that the description for Sirius' room does not match the film. I actually wrote this before I saw Yates' version and changed some things from Rowling's version. (You will see what I mean.) I also have a few bits from "Yuletide Happenstance" here, but it is not necessary to read the one-shot for this chapter.
On to the update!
Hermione woke to the lingering scent of cigarettes, musky cologne, and something so achingly familiar her heart began to pulse to the same rhythm as her growing headache.
She shifted and buried her head in the silk covers caressing her body like the questing touch of a lost lover. Cocooned in the aroma of a fallen fellow, Hermione attempted to regroup her mind and ascertain how she found herself sleeping in Sirius' abandoned bed.
The answer snored lightly by her left side lounging uncomfortably in a wing-backed chair with a book collapsed across his slowly rising chest.
Hermione felt her lips stretch for the first time in days into an ease smile as she took in the slumbering werewolf.
She could easily see why Tonks literally falls all over herself when she occupied the same room as the ex-Defense professor. Granted, Tonks and falling had become synonymous in Hermione's mind, but there was just something about the sleeping man that drew the eye.
Maybe it was the werewolf thing. Animal magnetism and all that.
Grey streaks from a stress filled decade of isolation and virtual abandonment of all things comfortable, familiar, and home invaded the honey-wheat tinted locks that persistently hung in his eyes, conjuring an aura of mystery and exasperation simultaneously.
Even in sleep, he looked worn and wary. The lines marring his face from age and stress stood out amongst the scars lingering as constant reminders of the curse that haunts his every thought and action.
He probably put her here to stave off nightmares, Hermione thought fondly of the slumbering wizard. Too bad that nothing seems to stop her black dreams, not even the comforting scent of her favorite animagus while a werewolf stood guard over her bed.
Looking around the room Remus apparently felt would comfort her in her distressed state, Hermione let another grin sweep across her face.
Sirius really was rebellious in his youth.
While most of the house contained variations of green, silver, and black color combinations, the room she was currently in stood defiant in shades of burgundy red and shimmering gold. A mural of a huge male lion lounged on the wall facing the bedroom's door lazily batting a dazed snake's head. The colorful pictures, concert tickets, movie stubs, music lyrics from both magical and muggle groups, and prank schematics surrounding the painting revealed to Hermione that not only did the image act as a passively aggressive snub to anyone with Slytherin affiliations that should open the door, but it served as a type of trophy wall showcasing the Marauders many successful feats of mayhem and mischief.
Getting up from the bed, Hermione walked to the painting and gently lifted her hand to touch the nose of the lion. To her surprised delight, the lion shifted from his playful batting of the snake at its feet to shaking it in its mouth slightly before throwing the snake high in the air until it disappeared from the mural completely. The lion dropped it head to look right at Hermione and seemed to smirk in a hauntingly familiar way to Sirius before shifting its attention back to the snake that fell back into the scene right at the lion's feet. The lazy playful batting of the lion recommenced, waiting for someone to once again touch it so it could toss its plaything into the air again.
Continuing her journey around the room, Hermione had to admit that she was glad Sirius had decided to use the potion she made that reversed the permanent sticking charm on his rebellious wall décor. She did not think waking up to half naked biker chicks would have helped alleviate the pressure building in her head that morning.
The dark, heavy furniture felt clunky and oppressive in the room. They ate up too much of the floor space.
She always imagined Sirius needing room to move around and feel comfortable, so this room, the room he had been unwillingly confined to after months on the run and years behind bars, must have felt completely claustrophobic. She could barely breathe in the room. Hermione could only imagine how much worse it had been for the animagus.
She continued her exploration, stumbling across her school truck nestled between a large, black bookshelf and the door, bringing a touch of reality back to the young witch.
Remus must have brought it, Hermione thought.
In all honesty, she had completely forgotten about the trunk when she fled Hogwarts. She had just been thinking about her need to get away from everyone, to think without someone breathing over her shoulder, constantly asking her if she was alright or if there was anything she needed. Hermione knew that they were worried, but she did not need them smothering her with their concern.
She was not okay.
She was not going to be okay for quite some time.
But she did need to be alone.
Well, as alone as one could be with a hovering werewolf and a best friend with a hero complex.
Deciding to leave the trunk for now, Hermione walked back over to the bed and heaved a heavy sigh as she threw herself back across its rumpled covers. She looked up at the ceiling and could not help the incredulous chuckle that left her lips.
Sirius clearly decided some of the décor could come in use sometime down the line, she mused, as she took in her rumpled morning appearance in the mirror hanging directly above her.
Shaking her head slightly, Hermione carefully dragged herself off of the bed again and quietly made her way out of the room. It spoke to just how tired Remus was that not even the cracking of the floorboards disturbed his slumber.
Where to now, she wondered as she made her way downstairs.
Coffee.
The thing to help her headache, she decided, was the black liquid from the caffeine gods.
Finding the kitchen in the same order Molly reorganized it into, Hermione easily found the source of her morning breakfast and set it to percolate.
Hearing a creak of the stairs, Hermione realized that Lupin had not been sleeping as soundly as she thought.
A tussled Remus sat down at the kitchen table across from the teenage witch. He looked exhausted despite the fact that he had just awoke.
Hermione mentally calculated the placement of the moon and realized that his furry friend was to make an appearance in just a few days. She needed to go into the basement and make sure that the cage he insisted on using was still there. Maybe she could even pad the floor with some nice comfortable blankets. Does he get hungry when he changes? Hermione could not remember if anyone left food for the werewolf before his transformation. She wondered if the night would go smoother if he had something to eat and maybe some entertainment, like a rubber ball or squeaky toy. Do werewolves play with squeaky toys? They are a variety of dog, but how closely related are they? Would Remus be amused by finding toys awaiting him post-transformation or would he think she was mocking him somehow and be offended? What about...
Remus' husky growl interrupted her mussing. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine," Hermione lied, gazing out the window. She would have to continue her werewolf wonderings at a later time.
"Even with the midnight screaming?"
Hermione jerked her head towards the man in front of her. Seeing the look in her former professor's eyes, she did not even try to deny or plead ignorance. She decided to go with the truth, though a heavily edited version of it.
"I had a nightmare," said Hermione, shrugging. She occupied her hands by pulling down two cups from the cabinet above her head and filling them with the bitter brew. "Cream and sugar?"
Remus shook his head.
Hermione set his black coffee in front of him then proceeded to fix her own cup.
Deciding she had procrastinated enough, Remus asked, "And how often have you been having nightmares?"
Why was he bringing this up, internally bemoaned the teen. Turning to look back out the window at the morning sun shining through the curtains, Hermione could not help but curse the seemingly cheery outside world.
"Hermione."
The witchling sighed. "For awhile."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Yes."
Remus rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. He knew that she did not want to talk about this, about the times of night when she was at her most vulnerable and isolated, but he needed to know. He could not help her if she refused to confide in him.
Taking in his resolute stare and continued silence, Hermione heaved an even greater sigh, causing Lupin to crack a slight smile at her teenage drama. It did not happen often, but when it did, it forced the observer to remember that this strong, independent young woman in front of him was still a child in many aspects, even after the world and war chipped away much of her innocence.
"I've been having them for most of the summer."
"Every night?"
"No, not every night," replied Hermione, which was true. She did not, after all, sleep every night.
"What are they about?" asked Remus, almost afraid to hear her answer.
Hermione lifted her legs tight into her chest, hugging them close in order to make herself as small as possible. She did not want to talk about this, not after waking up in his room, surrounded by his ghostly presence. Clearing her throat, Hermione replied with one word, "Darkness."
Clear blue eyes captured whiskey ones, conveying assurance and security.
Hermione lost herself in those eyes and accepted everything they were offering. Deciding that she was done wallowing in her unhealthy lack of sleep for one morning, she asked the questions that she had been dreading since she woke up in the hospital wing a week ago. "What do I do now? Who is in charge of my future fate?"
Lupin sighed. He wanted to continue his inquiry about her nightmares, but he knew that she needed this as much as he did. Letting a small smile cross his face, he answered, "I am."
"What? How?"
"Your parents initially thought about appointing the Weasleys as your guardian, since they were the only wizarding family they knew, but they decided that they wanted someone who could operate in both worlds. They apparently felt I was suitable for the job."
"When?"
"The paperwork was filed in the middle of last year."
"Why?"
"Your parents knew more about the war then you gave them credit. They wanted to make sure you were safe and with someone you trusted. They also made sure that everything that was in their name became yours if the worst happened."
Hermione knew that Remus meant life insurance. There was probably also insurance from the house combined with the money left over from the funeral arrangements.
A deep morose thought filtered into Hermione's mind as she once again realized that her parents were gone and she did not even get to say her last good-byes at the memorial service since the Order apparently thought that going ahead with the arrangements to maintain Hermione's cover was more important than to wait for her to wake up so she could attend. Hermione personally believed that Dumbledore did not want to even give her the opportunity to be seen in public so made sure that everything was wrapped up neatly before she regained consciousness. If he had it his way, Hermione figured that Dumbledore would have let the Muggle world believe she expired in the fire with her parents, thus pulling her completely into the Magical world.
Apparently, Dumbledore did not have the authority to make that call.
"So you're my full guardian?"
"Unfortunately no, I'm your Muggle guardian, which means that you will live with me, but I have no say on the magical side of things."
"Because you're a werewolf?"
"Because I'm a werewolf."
Hermione carefully set down her mug, bracing herself for what was to come, praying that Dumbledore, in fact, did not have any legal control over her. "So, who is my magical guardian?"
"McGonagall stepped up and took that position. She will only be your magical guardian for a few weeks since maturation in the Wizarding world is reached at seventeen instead of eighteen."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
"Yes, he found out while you were still sleeping off your magical drain."
"And?"
"And he can't change anything even if he was inclined to. Your parents gave full consent. The papers are legal and binding. Not even the Minister can change this."
Hermione slipped into a contemplative silence, taking in all of the information she had just received. A hope and new sense of belonging began to overtake her. She was not going to be alone. She was not going to be abandoned or dropped off to someone she did not particularly want to live with. She loved the Weasleys. She did, but she did not want to live with them. She was an only child. Constantly being surrounded by boisterous noise and company was not something she wanted. The library was more than a room full of knowledge for her after all; it was a silent sanctuary where she could go and reacclimatize herself to a quieter atmosphere.
Looking towards her new guardian, she reiterated, "I get to stay with you?"
"You get to stay with me."
Hermione leaped from her chair and into Remus' arms, hugging him close and tight.
"Where? Where are we going to live?" asked Hermione, returning to her seat.
"Here. Harry was already letting me stay here; after learning about the guardianship, he extended the invitation to become a permanent move."
Hermione looked down at the mention of her best friend. She knew that Harry had a big heart, but she was knew, deep down, that had been envious of her parents, so adding her new guardian into the mix, a guardian that he should have now that Sirius is gone...
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Remus addressed them in his next comment. "Harry just wants the best for you. He understands that under no circumstances would Dumbledore let him leave the Dursleys. He is not blind to the machinations of the Headmaster."
At that, Hermione's head shot up.
"Neither am I."
Hermione felt a new understanding grow between them, an understanding that she had been cultivating with Harry all summer.
"Well," she said, changing the subject, "then we have a lot of work to do. This place is barely habitable. Everything is going to have to be changed."
"Hermione..."
"Remus, let me do this. Please."
"You're right," he said, nodding his head. "It is far too dark and depressing in here. The house needs sprucing, but it is going to be a very big job to fix this place up."
"Don't worry," replied Hermione, smiling a secretive smile. "I plan on calling in some help."
Remus raised an eyebrow in inquiry but received nothing in return. He huffed, taking in the time from the grandfather clock in the hall. "I have to go. Order meeting."
"Go. I'll be fine."
The werewolf walked over to Hermione and tentatively embraced her. With a small kiss to the head, Remus exited the room.
Hermione looked around the kitchen, pondering her first move, and she knew exactly what it was. "Winky."
A soft crack sounded to her left.
"Mistress, yous is ok," cried the elf as she threw herself at Hermione's legs. "I's tried to come sees you, but someone was always there, and mistress says not to be seen yet."
Even after owning the elf for almost two years now, Hermione still could not fully understand how it happened. One moment she was scouring the library for any and all legislation concerning house elves and the next she was the proud owner of one.
Proud was not the correct term, Hermione amended to her mental ruminations, more like tricked.
Hermione's elfish liberation dreams had evaporated with one visit to the Hogwarts' kitchen.
Sympathy for one particular poor creature caused her to become what she originally condemned.
But of course, after unknowingly binding Winky to her, the elf informed her new mistress that her grand plans for freedom would not have worked on the Hogwart's elves anyway. Apparently, one has to be the owner of the elf before the elf can be freed with clothing.
Hermione's overly kind heart and righteous indignation that propelled her to fight for House-elf rights in the first place forgot that part in her quest for freedom and equality.
It was a hard hit to Hermione's ego that she overlooked such a small but important aspect for her S.P.E.W. campaign.
"It's fine; I'm fine." Hermione tilted the elf's head up. "See. I'm right as rain."
The elf's demeanor changed so fast that it made Hermione slightly dizzy. "No, yous is not," admonished the elf. "Yous sit down now and rests. Winky will fix mistress something to eat."
Hermione batted off the elf's concern. "No, there is no time for rest. I have a job for you. A big job actually that might require assistance to complete it on the planned date."
The elf looked offended by the mere thought of being incapable. "Winky needs no help. She is a good elf. She does the work alone." The small creature crossed her arms in indignation.
Looking both sheepish and apologetic, Hermione adopted a respectful tone. "I know you are capable, Winky. I would never imagine saying or believing otherwise."
Winky loosened her arms, listening.
Seeing this, Hermione continued. "I plan to completely clean and redesign this house before returning to school in three weeks. I think that is too much work for a wizard, an elf, and a witch using Muggle methods."
"Why Muggle methods?" asked Winky, clearly not understanding.
"I can't use magic outside of school without getting into trouble."
"You can here."
"What?"
"Wards, Mistress. They block Ministry. Mistress can use magic here without trouble."
Hermione stood stunned. She chuckled to herself. Sirius knew but let her borrow his wand anyway. Sneaky man. He knew, even after a night of rule-breaking, there were certain rules she would not tempt and using magic outside of school after Harry's trial was one of them.
Getting back on topic, the teenage witch recalculated the work load necessary to fix Grimmauld into a livable space. "I still think we may need more help. Kreacher could not keep up with the work load, and even with a house full of wand-carriers, the house looks like...well, look around."
The elf turned up her nose. "Previous elf was bad elf. Trixy. House in ruins. Got around the bond somehow," mumbled Winky, as she began to shake her head in shame. "And wand-users not want to fix up house or house would be fixed."
"So," asked Hermione, agreeing with Winky's assessments.
"Two weeks," declared to elf.
"No way."
Winky looked insulted by her mistress's continued questioning of her abilities. "Planned right, skills utilized, two weeks."
Smiling, Hermione admitted defeat. "Ok, two weeks. Let's get started."
Hermione and Winky decided taking a look through the house was the first step, so they split up and took in the decomposition of a once proud manor.
When they came back together a couple hours later, the two started hammering out the plan that would consume them for the next two weeks.
So focused on the small being before her, the young witch did not hear the front door open and close. The one thing Mrs. Black's portrait was good for when it took up residence in the front of the house was the early warning system it provided. Who needed an alarm when one had a screeching painting spewing vitriol at anyone that opened the front door normally or attempts to sneak up the stairs unobtrusively?
But since the portrait had been relegated to the attic in a soundproofed pine crate, Remus received a banishment charm into the entrance way wall by a very protective house elf.
"Winky, no."
Disoriented, all Remus could concentrate on were heavy footsteps coming in his direction and the pain littering his body.
"Remus, I am so sorry. You startled her."
"I's is so sorry, mister."
"No punishment, Winky. It was an accident. Please, go get some ice for his head."
Lupin's eyes began to clear as Hermione helped him back to his feet.
"Hermione, was that...?"
Seeing his confusion, she gave a rushed response as she led him into the parlor. "Yes. I have an elf. Long story."
"One," he began as Hermione helped him sit on the couch, "that you are going to share with me in the near future."
"Promise," replied the witch, handing Remus bag of ice for his head that Winky had popped in with. "So, short meeting?"
The werewolf huffed a laugh at her poor attempt at directing his attention away from the small addition to the household. "Slow week apparently. Voldemort and his minions are being quiet for now. Probably still reeling from last week." Remus silently cursed himself for his end remark as he watched Hermione's stance tense as tight as a bow string before his eyes. He hated that blank look behind her whiskey irises. "Hermione, I'm sorry. What I meant was..."
Hermione waved off his excuses like she would one of the boys' diversionary quips. "It's fine. Continue."
"After the meeting, the discussion became centered on you."
"Me?"
"Apparently Molly did not appreciate your brush off yesterday."
"She can get over it."
"Agreed."
Deciding to change the subject once more, Hermione informed Remus about the plan she established with Winky, after letting him in on the details behind Winky's origins and new bonding.
They shared a quick lunch of sandwiches before getting down to work.
"Ok Winky," started Hermione. "I want you to strip all of the rooms bare and place everything in the largest room in this house."
"Everything?"
"Everything. Every piece of furniture, clothing, and knick knack," declared Hermione, as she walked over to the door leading to the entranceway. Slowly she turned back towards the waiting house elf. "Except for the first room on the right on the fourth floor. I want you to leave that one alone for now."
Hermione could see Remus drop his head slightly at her cleaning exception. She knew that they both needed that room to remain untouched for a little while longer.
"Do you want me to add it then to the stuff in the ballroom?"
"What stuff?" asked Hermione.
"What ballroom?" inquired Remus, a look of confusion clouding his face. As far as he knew, Grimmauld Place did not have a ballroom, or at least Sirius never mentioned it having one.
"The ballroom upstairs on the other side of the manor."
"Other side?" asked Remus and Hermione together.
"Yes. Other side was locked before but new master opened it back up. All of the lost stuff returned home. In the ballroom now it is."
Hermione and Remus looked at each other. This changed the plan slightly. "Show me," said the witch.
Instead of walking, Winky grabbed both of their hands and popped them into the newly discovered space.
The ballroom was huge and could easily hold up to two hundred people. It was also dirty. There were cobwebs hanging in the corners of the room, across the drapery surrounding hidden windows, devouring the chandeliers, and covering the dozen of tables littered throughout the room. The floor was coated with a thick layer of dust and grim.
The only place in the room not consumed by time was a rather large pile of stuff in the center of the room.
"Winky, do you know where this stuff came from?"
"It was returned, Mistress."
"What do you mean?" asked Remus as he began visually shifting through the items, knowing that his first task was going to be making them safe.
"Everything stolen was returned," stated the elf simply.
Hermione finally understood. "Mundungus. Everything he stole returned when Harry reset the wards. The Blacks must have been so paranoid that they spelled all of their possessions in case of theft." Chuckling slight, she continued with, "I bet that drunk got a nasty surprise when the spells activated too. I don't imagine the Blacks being lenient on thieves."
"I concur that it could have been nothing good," declared Remus, casting a few revealing spells and detectors over the pile of recovered items. While they were in Mundungus' care, these items seemed benign, but with the new wards, who knew what could have been reawakened. With that thought, the werewolf turned to his companion. "Everything should be checked for spells and curses."
Nodding her agreement, Hermione turned back to Winky. "Ok, the plan still holds that I want everything in the house in this room. We'll go from there once that is finished."
She turned back to Remus. "Is transportation by elf-magic safe, do you think?"
"Since the Blacks did not give any credence to magic outside of wand-magic, no spells should be geared towards elves." He looked down at the small creature. "Be very careful when you banish though. I know elves have brilliant revealing magic, but it is better to be safe than sorry."
"Oh, but leave the books alone in the library." Turning to Remus, she asked, "Do you mind going through them?"
Remus shook his head, already making plans for what he could do in the library to make it safe.
Winky bowed before clicking her fingers and disappearing.
Pieces of furniture that Hermione could identify as coming from the first floor study immediately began popping into the room.
Tying her hair back with the band on her wrist, Hermione pulled out her wand and got to work with the spells Remus advised her to use, while he continued to evaluate the pile before him.
After Winky zapped everything in the manor into the ballroom, Hermione and Remus took a few days to sort everything out. Hermione focused on sorting through all of the furniture, determining what could be salvaged from the dark jumble of cherry, mahogany, chocolate, and black woods and what needed to be either tossed or transfigured.
Some pieces required a hefty amount of sanding, staining, wood varnish, and elbow grease, but in the end, Hermione was able to resituate the manor's rooms with the newly refurbished antique furniture.
The gaudy decorative accessories and grotesque knick-knack littering the room on the other hand, especially the items plagued with dark magic or containing pieces of once living beings, found themselves situated into a pile awaiting either the attic or the trash heap.
Hermione could not help but wonder if the Magical world believed in yard sales.
The first task befalling the former-Defense against the Dark Arts professor was to shift through the pile of returned artifacts that had been stolen from the enchanted house. He knew that Molly had roped the Order members into go through the house previously and remove any dark curses lingering on the items surrounding her family and surrogates.
The items in the pile were mainly small items that one could hide in pockets or bags: candle sticks, books, jewelry, small weapons, etc. Some of the items clearly had dark magic surrounding them, but there did not seem to be any triggers for anything but thieves on them. He decided to leave them in a pile to be resorted through later and continued scanning the other items in the ballroom for dangerous curses.
After completing his task to rid the room of dark magic triggers, Remus mentally fortified himself for the arduous task ahead of him, sorting through the library. He collected all of the books lingering by his feet with a simple levitation spell and made his way back downstairs.
The library became Lupin's brainchild. All of the books were carefully removed from the shelves and sorted into piles by subject matter. All of the dark volumes that had been returned from Molly's cleansing (because the wards apparently saw that as a type of theft) were put in the very back corner of the room so that Remus would not accidently trip over them and cause irreparable damage to himself.
Once everything was sorted, the werewolf began to slowly put the books back on the newly cleaned and polished shelves. The last books to be replaced were the dark ones. They were each carefully levitated into their slots. Once everyone was shelved, a thick sheet of conjured glass was magicked to encase them. Remus set a series of complicated runes and protection spells around and on the glass to make sure that no one could get to the books behind it without the correct incantation.
Days passed in a blur of dusting, sweeping, and stripping wallpaper after the furniture and library were finished.
Like Hermione planned, only one room remained untouched by the clearing frenzy that swept Grimmauld Place in the remaining weeks before the new school year started.
If any one of the previous inhabitants of the house were to find their way back through the wards, they would not be able to reconcile the new appearance of the previously grim, dark residence. Gone were the dust-covered drapes and furniture. All the cobwebs and stalactite-like candles dripping down the chandeliers vanished in the face of Muggle cleaning products and house elf thoroughness. Every dark and oppressive object remaining in the wake of Mrs. Weasley's initial purge of the house were disarmed and in some cases relocated to saver and more secure locations within the manor. Each room received a new coat of paint, which took a solid week for the inhabitants to complete because the teenage witch insisted on painting every wall without the aid of magic. Refurbished furniture better fitting the space enhanced the new areas instead of stifling them. New drapes and rugs adorning freshly polished floors to added color to the new atmosphere of the house. Painting hung throughout the house brightening spaces instead of darkening them.
No longer were house elf heads hanging on the wall of the stairwell. No more troll-leg umbrella stands cluttered the entryway. No more Toujours Pur decorating the front door. Even the tapestry displaying the Black family line did not survive Hermione's complete makeover of the Black Manor.
The only thing that stayed the same—with the exception of Sirius' room—was the enlarged picture of the original Order Hermione had gifted Sirius with at Christmas still hung in the previous home of Wulburga Black's portrait. Hermione recovered the duplicates from Harry's Christmas present and added a Muriel of happy memories to the item of remembrance.
Hermione dearly wished Harry could see the place now, but she knew that Dumbledore and the Weasleys (specifically Molly) would never let him out of their sight, especially now that the Death Eaters were openly targeting his friends.
As if thinking about his conjured him, Hermione felt the small compact mirror in her pocket heat up pulling her from her morose thoughts.
Fred must have finally given Harry her part of his birthday present, thought Hermione as she pulled the mirror out.
The idea came to her after Harry showed her the two-way mirrors the Marauders created to talk to each other during detentions and such.
Hermione however decided to make something less conspicuous then a hand-held mirror, especially in the hands of a teenage boy that was not considered vane by any stretch of the imagination. One look at Harry's hand-me-down clothes that he could easily have substituted with new ones during his summer school shopping sessions proved that he was less concerned about appearance, at least at the moment, than other teenage boys.
It might have something to do with his flailing confidence in his power to ensnare the opposite sex who was more interested in him as a person than the title the Wizarding world's savior and supposed "Chosen One".
She could not help but flush as she remembered the exuberant hug she received from Remus when she presented the idea of presenting a communication mirror to Harry while she kept the mated pair, providing them with a constant connection to the Boy-Who-Lived. Apparently, he had not thought of something so simple, but agreed wholeheartedly with the endeavor. He even helped her pick out the watch that Hermione decided to replace the one ruined during the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
The watch the werewolf chose was simple but classy. It actually came with a built in mirror, eliminating the task of magically incorporating one into the watch's design. With a simple push of a button, Harry could communicate with her. It reminded her of the spy movies that her father loved to watch late at night.
Seeing Harry's face appear in the glass in her hand, Hermione smiled.
Instead of adhering to common courtesy with the exchange of greetings, Harry plowed ahead saying, "Hermione, you have to get me out of here."
"What?" she asked, slightly confused.
"I need a break. She is driving me crazy."
"Who? Molly?"
"I wish. No, Ginny."
"What's wrong?"
"She won't stop following me around and touching me."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "She likes you, Harry."
Harry huffed. "I wish she would revert back to how she was before. She used to go out of her way to avoid me and the only sounds from her lips were squeaks," muttered Harry resentfully.
"Harry," said Hermione, trying to sound reprimanding but the hint of giggles in her voice gave her away.
"Come on, help me."
"Why should I risk the wrath of Ginny to help you? You are a capable wizard. You have fought the Dark Lord himself and survived yet you quake in the presence of a small, infatuated girl."
"I'll buy you something shiny if you rescue me from my stalker."
Tabling his request for a second, Hermione said, "Oh, that reminds me Harry. I found a locket while sorting through some stuff over here and wanted to do some further research on it. I need your verbal permission to take it out of Grimmauld because of the new wards."
"I will give you me permission if you help me escape."
Hermione pretended to think his bargain over. Making him sweat for a few more minutes, Hermione finally conceded. "Deal."
"I, Harry James Potter, give Hermione Jane Granger permission to remove a locket from Grimmauld Place."
"Thanks Harry."
The Boy-Who-Lived looked at his best friend expectantly. "Your turn."
"Put on your invisibility cloak and floo over."
Harry looked stunned. "It's that simple."
"Yes."
Shaking his head, he argued, "Can't be."
"It is. The wards here were essentially set up by you, so you can come and go as you please."
Harry looked momentary flabbergasted as he realized how much sooner his torment could have ended if he would have talked to Hermione days ago.
"I'll be right over then."
"Oh, and Harry, I hope you like what we have done with the place when you get here. Anything you want changed, we can change."
Harry loved the changes. He proved Hermione's theory that a previous occupant of the manor would not be able to recognize to the place correct.
Hermione took him on a tour of the new Grimmauld Place, letting him see everything that was new and different as well as the one place that was the same.
They never planned to turn Sirius' room into a type of shrine to the fallen Marauder, but that was kind of how it felt. It did not seem right to go and disturb that room without its master's approval. For now, the pain was still too close to the surface, the loss too recent for them to obliterate that one last remaining piece of his presence in the house. Photographs were not the same as a room that still held his smell. It seemed as if at any moment he would walk back into their lives and thus needed a space to still call his own.
For all these reason and more, the room had been unanimously voted to remain as-is until they all agreed that it was time to change it, to move on.
The one room Harry really seemed to fall in love with was surprisingly the ballroom. He could automatically see all of the potential that the room provided as a training room. The wide open space and hardwood floor were perfect for mock fights and practicing technique, while still providing room for the two of them to do their own separate things out of the way of each other.
Harry joked that in the week that she was in the Hospital Wing he felt like his muscles were atrophying. After a summer full of constant action, a week of leisure was really starting to get to the wizarding boy.
They planned right away to reassume training. They decided to wait to bring Ron into the fold, as it were, until they were back at Hogwarts, just in case a fight happened. They still did not want Molly or Dumbledore finding out about their summer activities. Something told Hermione that it would cause more trouble than solve if either found out.
Harry looked through the unoccupied bedrooms and picked one out to call his own. Remus went so far as to spell the boy's name on the door, declaring to everyone who stumbled across it that Harry Potter slept there. That nameplate seemed to really affect Harry. He rushed back over to the Burrow just so he could retrieve his trunk, bringing it back for the sole purpose of unpacking.
For the first time, Harry had a place to keep all of his things without fear of them being broken or purposely lost.
Everything that Harry had been carrying around that he gained from the Magical world that had been living in his school truck found itself on the floor of his new bedroom. Harry spent hours sorting through his belonging.
The first things placed in their new home were Harry's most prized possessions. The two photo albums he had with pictures of his family, one from Hagrid and the other from Hermione, as well as the pensieve from Sirius and memory vials were placed in the cabinet space at the bottom of him new bookshelf. He would get 'Mione or Moony to ward the doors later for added protection. His father's invisibility cloak was the first thing hung in his new wardrobe. His firebolt was lent against his new bedside table. Hedwig's cage was set underneath his new window, indicating that Harry would need another stand for the currently empty cage.
After those things were loving place in their new homes, Harry proceeded to fill up drawers of his new desk with old assignments and class notes. Shelves of his bookcase housed old textbooks from previous years as well as those he received as gifts for Christmas and birthdays. Old robes were hung in his new wardrobe beside his father's cloak.
While he knew some things should be thrown away or donated, Harry continued to fill his furniture with anything he did not need for the sheer novelty of having the furniture to clutter and junk up with useless shit. If he purposely left the odds and ends on the floor, no one called him on it.
Harry was in domestic heaven.
Grimmauld Place, after being occupied by various people for decades, finally began to feel like a real home.
The excitement of discovering the beauty of the manor underneath all of the oppressive darkness helped occupy Hermione's mind and distract her from her grief, but it did nothing to divert her mission.
Two days before she was due to return to Hogwarts, Hermione sat on the last step of the stairwell facing the basement door balled into the tightest position her body and the stair would let her.
She knew the transformation was bad, painful. She had witnessed it herself at fourteen outside the Whomping Willow's secret entrance.
But even then, she did not feel as helpless as she did in this moment, listening to the sweet man she had always admired losing himself to a beast far greater and stronger than any of the creatures he taught them about back in Third Year.
The torturous screams morphed into horrid howls and guttural growls and pitiful whimpering.
She desperately wanted to help him now.
Hermione's resolve reminded her of her arrangement with Sirius: for breaking him out of Grimmauld Place, he would aid her in becoming an animagus.
Before, the rationality behind performing that kind of magic was to give her an edge in future battles, battles that she knew would be plenty in the near future.
Now, she had another reason for seeking out the same knowledge. If she could change into an animal, Remus would not necessarily need to be locked up in a cage in the basement alone during the full moon.
Hermione cringed at each rattling hit against the metal bars caging him in, praying that he would grow tired of trying to escape soon and fall asleep like he was supposed to. The rattling however seemed to intensify the longer she sat there listening.
Unable to sit and simply listen to Remus hurt himself, Hermione got up and did the one thing she promised earlier that night when she locked the cage she would not do, she opened the basement door and carefully eased her way down the stairs.
The stairwell for the basement was dark, darker than any other place in the house. She knew from memory that there were no windows in the room. There had been a single candle lit when she was down there earlier, but it must have blown out at some point during Remus' transformation because it was clearly not still glowing.
Carefully, so that she would not fall, Hermione eased her way down the stairs and into the basement proper.
She could barely make out the cage in the dark. The only thing she could see clearly was two gleaming amber eyes watching her descent.
A chastising growl heralded her presence in the basement.
"I'm sorry," she said, as she slowly made her way over to the cage and sat down, "I couldn't stand it any longer."
The werewolf settled back on his hutches and huffed.
Despite his annoyance, her presence seemed to put the werewolf at ease for he finally decided to lie down on the pallet of blankets she had insisted on placing in the cage earlier that night and go to sleep.
Crookshanks seemed to materialize out of nowhere and curled up in Hermione's lap. "Have you been down here all night?"
The meowed answer was filled with somber helplessness.
"I know; I wish I could help him too."
Hermione continued to watch over the werewolf long into the night, offering silent company.
She reaffirmed to herself that, despite being consumed already with multiple projects, Hermione was going to begin steps towards becoming an animagus. Hopefully, in the near future, Remus would be able to once again run free during the full moon.
The normally warm and inviting Headmaster's Office in the prestigious magical school Hogwarts felt ominous and dark with only a single candle flame lighting the two figures perched around the cluttered desk. All of the portraits were frozen in their frames; some even had their mouths hanging open in mid speech.
The room was still and silent, as if the room itself was holding its breath.
Finally, the figure sitting behind the desk interrupted the silence. "I need you to keep a close eye on Miss Granger in addition to Harry this year Severus. I expect a detailed report of every spell she utilizes during any mock duels you schedule this year."
Scowling, Severus asked, "And may I inquire about this sudden interest in the chit?"
Dumbledore steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the point. "I need to assess if she is become dark and thus a danger to Harry."
The Potion Master scoffed at Dumbledore's reasoning. "Albus, you and I both know that that girl would rather cut off her wand hand then do anything that could put the Boy Wonder in any type of jeopardy."
"That may be, but given recent circumstances, I have to make sure that Harry is in good hands when the end comes."
"An end that lies in your hands," growled Severus.
Dumbledore gave an exasperated sigh, signaling that this was not the first time these two men had had this conversation.
"Regardless, I need require the information about Miss Granger and you are in the perfect position to observe it."
Severus could not believe this. Both of his Masters now had their sights set of one young witch because of how she defended herself during a home invasion against Death Eaters. Once again, that girl was putting him in a precarious position. "Would you prefer a list or the memory?"
Dumbledore seemed to ponder the question, weighing the merit of both. "Memory. I want to see how she handles herself and her opponent."
"Fine," said Severus, rising from his seat. "Don't forget to take those potions, Albus. Your life depends on them after all."
With that, Severus stormed out of the Headmaster's office, missing the look of devastation overtaking the once great and seemingly all powerful leader of the light.
I could use some input from my readers:
I have some ideas about what form I want Hermione's animagus to be, but I was wonder what you guys though is the right animal to match our favorite bookworm's personality.
Also, who do you think Harry should be paired with? I was originally thinking Luna, but after watching HP7/2, I'm not so sure. I'm now thinking a Hufflepuff like Susan Bones.
Let me know what you think in a review.