Hello everyone! This chapter is almost 3 times as long as the others, but i think it's well worth it.

Enjoy!

Love,

Addie


As soon as the front door to Longbottom Manor closed behind them, Hermione found herself in a compromising position.

Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the side of the house, and Hermione let out a gasp of pain as her hipbone connecting with the bricks. Faster than she had thought possible, his wand was drawn, its tip pressed underneath her chin.

"Okay, kitten, you're gonna tell me how you got here," Sirius' forearm dug into her sternum, pinning her to the side of the house, "and how you know me. Because I certainly don't know you."

She struggled against his grip, "Sirius- you're hurting me-"

"You just appear inside the boundaries of a Fidelius Charm, at the same time as Voldemort, and you expect me to be gentle?!" As she met his hard and unyielding gaze, Hermione was confronted with his resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange for the first time. "Merlin, you looked like you'd been through a bloody war!"

"I can't-" she squeaked, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes,

"You will," he insisted darkly, but his eyes shifted slightly, "the things James described, the things you say you can do, aren't fucking possible! You can't just waltz in here like the Morrigan, blow Voldemort up, and not answer any questions!" His chest was heaving, his eyes wild, but he stopped actively trying to shove Hermione through the wall. He didn't lower his wand.

Sirius' eyes searched hers, as if he could tell whether she was Dark just by looking, and Hermione cleared her throat. "You're... you're on my foot."

At that, Sirius looked down, and seemed to realize for the first time he had practically tackled her. He took a couple steps back, but didn't relax his stance. If she was as powerful as they said, she should have fought him off easily. She was in no state to fight him physically, and she hadn't even reached for her wand. He towered over her, and probably outweighed her by six stone. Sirius almost regretted his suspicion just looking at her, but he proceeded anyway.

"You show up covered in dirt and blood, cursed wounds, metal melted into your chest, and tortured to what should have been insanity, and you still manage to defeat the darkest wizard of all time. No one should be able to survive that," he said earnestly, his voice returning to its normal gentle tenor.

Hermione took a deep breath, "As I said before, I know you because I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, "Never seen you at the meetings," he observed evenly.

"No, you couldn't have, I'm...er...younger than you," she watched as he weighed this information, just hoping he wouldn't continue this line of questioning. She ignored the whisper in the back of her head, Yeah, about nineteen bloody years younger.

"How old are you? The Order doesn't let anyone under age fight."

"Eighteen." His brow furrowed at her answer. She was so small, for an eighteen-year-old.

"You've an Londoner accent, but I don't remember you from Hogwarts," he continued.

"Pass."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm passing the question up," she retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"There are no passes!" Sirius exclaimed, looking frustrated.

"I'm deferring until a later date," Hermione insisted, "Preferably one during which I am properly clothed." In the moonlight mixed with the light from the Manor, she could see him flush slightly, although his expression betrayed nothing.

"Fine," Sirius conceded with a sigh, "We'll move on."

"Excellent."

Sirius Black was not a man of subtlety. He said what he thought, when he thought it. But even he hesitated before asking his next question: "Who tortured you?"

Hermione's expression darkened, but she held his gaze, "A Death Eater," she said, her voice emotionless and flat, "A very angry Death Eater."

"If you're powerful like James seems to believe, how could they have managed that?" Sirius' demeanor was that of a doctor asking a deeply personal question. Business-like, but not indifferent. He was an Auror, after all.

"I wouldn't-" Hermione stopped herself and re-phrased, "I made sure my magic wouldn't get away from me."

"Why?"

Hermione bowed her head, no longer meeting his eyes, "It could have hurt my friends."

Sirius looked surprised at this, his eyes wide, "You bound your magic for your friends?"

"I can channel it, but I can't control it. Not really, anyway. And it feels so...right...when I give in, I feel like I could be swallowed up. They're safer when I'm in control."

"You were tortured, though! And you just took it, for them? When you could have defended yourself?"

When she looked back up at him, it was with intensity and determination, "Yes. And I'd do it again. I'd die for them, too."

"Why?"

"Because they would die for me."

This was something Sirius could understand. He would die for his friends, lay down his life without hesitation, if it meant they could walk away unscathed. "When did it happen?"

Something about this question seemed to greatly amuse Hermione, and she tilted her head to the side, a sad smile on her lips, "About a month ago-"

"A month?!" Something snapped inside Sirius, and he reacted harshly, causing Hermione to flinch reflexively, "A whole fucking month?!"

"Er...yes-"

"You should be absolutely mental! Utterly destroyed!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look frustrated, "What's your point?"

Sirius laughed coldly, his distress evident now, "We didn't break the curse until tonight!"

She paled, a considerable feat with her already-ashen complexion, "What do you mean, 'break the curse?'"

"The aftershocks for a normal-strength Cruciatus Curse are incredibly painful, but magic is all about intent," he gauged her reaction for a moment before continuing, "So to be tortured with absolute hatred, without remorse, with the intent to cause insanity, is much worse."

"Oh, Godric..." Hermione groaned, eyes growing wider by the second.

"The stronger the curse, the more it lingers. You were essentially being low-level tortured until the curse was broken."

Slowly, the pieces were dropping into place for Hermione. She hadn't felt normal since that day at Malfoy Manor, but had attributed it to recovery time. She couldn't stop casting at full power, couldn't wrangle her magic like she normally did, but she had thrown caution to the wind, and did her best to channel the power into protecting her loved ones. Hermione no longer slept at night, and had to put Silencing Charms around her bed in Shell Cottage so no one could hear her scream when Bellatrix followed her into her dreams.

But there was a war on, and her weaknesses didn't matter. She put on a brave face, if not for herself, then for her best friend. Rather than push away the majority of her magic, she ignored her pain and distress in favor of helping Harry. So he could survive. So they could all survive. Even if it meant she didn't. Self-preservation was low-priority when the fate of the Wizarding World was at stake.

Sirius could see she was struggling to process this information. He only knew about this side-effect of the Cruciatus Curse because of his job as an Auror. He felt like her should comfort the girl, but wasn't sure how. He decided to at least lower his wand. Reacting to this gesture, Hermione relaxed slightly, leaning against the side of the Manor and wrapping her arms around herself, as if cold.

As Sirius watched, she collected herself, and lifted her chin to look at him. She waved a hand in a beckoning gesture. "Well, go on. What else do you want to know?"

He rocked back on his heels before answering, "So, what, you just happened to be around and powerful at the exact moment Voldemort caught up with Lily and James?" His tone was a little incredulous, but Hermione didn't seem bothered by it.

"No, I wasn't. I don't actually know what happened. I was at H- in Scotland...at the time," The time-traveling bombshell would have to be dropped later. Right then, she was kicking herself for not being a better liar. She was trying to sound casual, but it just came out wrong.

Sirius looked like he could tell she wasn't being truthful. "You don't know how you got there, or didn't know Voldemort was attacking?"

"Er...both," she said with a grimace, knowing it sounded fake.

"Both?" Sirius was almost mocking her now.

"Yes!"

Sirius put a hand to his face. "Alright, fine," they would come back to this, he decided, "So let me see if I got this right: you're in 'Scotland' one minute, then in Potter Cottage the next, just in time to face off with Voldy. You got Lily and James and Harry out of the way, while simultaneously frying the Dark Lord like a bloody chip. James said you fainted right after, and you were unconscious when I showed up, too. So, we take you here, heal your injuries. You wake up, mistake James for his infant son. You somehow recognize me, claim to be a member of the Order, and your first concern was the fucking wards?!"

Hermione scowled. "I'm not sure I like your tone. Voldemort's followers are still out there, you know." And Frank and Alice were attacked only a week from now the first time around, she added, to herself.

This really set Sirius entirely over the edge. He growled, and stomped away, muttering to himself, "Un-fucking-believable...covered in blood...doesn't like my tone...barbecued Voldemort..."

Hermione regarded the swearing wizard with the same look with which one would regard a confusing piece of artwork. She supposed this was a lot for Sirius to deal with. If muttering expletives was how he dealt with things, so be it. In fact, it didn't seem like such a bad plan to Hermione, given her current situation.

"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat, "Do you have more questions or...?"

"Oh, how rude of me," Sirius retorted sardonically, "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared. Sirius pretended he didn't notice his jacket come open, and Hermione pretended she hadn't seen him notice. She was far past self-consciousness, anyway. "Can I please fix the wards now? You know, like I came out here to do?"

Sirius blinked for a moment, and decided to put his inquisition on the back burner for now. "Fine," he sighed, "Let's get on with it, then."

Hermione crossed the distance between them, but stopped short. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly deciding whether to say something more.

Sirius sighed again, something he realized he was doing a lot. "What?" he groaned.

"It's just...almost no one's seen me do...this," she gesticulated in a general way, to indicate magic, "Only James, earlier, and one of my professors." Here was something Hermione was truly self-conscious about. What if Sirius thought she was too much of a threat, and attacked her? Or worse, ran for the hills?

"Are you...worried about me?" Sirius asked, with a hint of disbelief, but mostly amusement.

"Well...yes," she answered honestly, but quickly added, "From what I've been told...it's a bit much."

"A bit much?" he repeated, confused, "You do know I'm a wizard, yeah? I've seen magic before, kitten."

A crease appeared in between her eyebrows. "I'm not sure you know what you're getting into, here."

Sirius highly doubted this would be the case, but Hermione looked like she was about to cry. It was through these circumstances Sirius found himself trying to reassure the witch he had been threatening minutes before.

"Would it help if you walked me through your plan?" Sirius suggested, trying not to think about how ludicrous this all was.

She brightened considerably at that. "Yes! Most of my warding techniques are fairly standard; muggle repellants, unplottable charms, and spellwork to reinforce the perimeter...and I'll channel that through the keystones on the property. But last month I was able to do more research and expand my techniques..."

Hermione went on to explain that she did some research during her recovery time; by isolating the Dark magic in her scars, she created a signature for Dark magic the wards could recognize.

Specifically, she keyed the wards to attack anything comparable to the type of concentrated Dark magic found in the Dark Mark of Voldemort's followers. Her scars had the same level of permanence woven into the curse that a Dark Mark would, so she was able to make it even more precise.

The complexity of her calculations stunned Sirius. He could tell she knew her work backwards and forwards. For every thread in the fabric of the enchantment, she had thought of ten ways to strengthen the knit. He couldn't understand every step in the process, but he understood enough to realize Hermione wasn't mucking about; the witch was sharp as a whip and just as deadly.

"...but with the Cheyenne translations of the runes, the signature fit more exactly. I've never actually tested it against a Death Eater to make sure it's lethal, but at the very least it would incapacitate them beyond duelling ability."

For a moment, Sirius didn't realize Hermione had finished her explanation. He shook his head slightly as he caught up. "Bloody hell, kitten, you really do full-arse everything!"

He sounded so much like Ron, it almost blew a hole clean through Hermione.

Sirius saw her expression crumple in pain. "Alright there, love? Are you hurt?"

The grief struck her like a ton of bricks, flattening her lungs, and stopping her heart. Would she ever see Ron again? Or Harry? What about her parents? They all depended on her, one way or another. And here she was, chatting with a dead man, like nothing was the matter.

How was she supposed to move on, after losing everything?

"I can't..."

Sirius was kneeling in front of her, so he was looking up into her face. He grabbed her hands in both of his own. His blue eyes, so steely in the moonlight, flickered with concern. "Talk to me, kitten. What is it?"

"Sirius... everyone's g-gone!" Hermione's tearless sobs were of absolute anguish, "My friends...my f-family...I've lost them all!"

It was as if Sirius had a window into an alternate dimension. One where he lost everything tonight.

James and Lily: dead protecting Harry.

Remus: apparently betrayed by Sirius, left destitute and alone.

Peter: wriggling free of his vengeful grasp, never to be found again.

And he realized Hermione was bearing a burden that very well could have been his.

This girl had no one left, but it had almost been Sirius in her place. Sirius, alone. Sirius, unable to cope with such a great loss. Sirius, no longer able to protect his friends, for his friends were ghosts.

Sirius had the sudden urge to comfort the girl his the leather jacket. He pulled her close, and down onto his lap, to better embrace her. She flung her arms around his neck (Sirius suspected this was a signature move of her's), and buried her face.

As soon as Hermione was in his arms, Sirius could feel her relax; her grief expending any remaining energy she possessed. "Shhh...it's alright, love...we're here for you..."

Hermione pulled back and looked for any hint of deception in Sirius' gaze. Her voice barely above a whisper, "Do you mean that?"

"Of course," Sirius said, and he was sure. The moment she had laid down her life for the Potters, she became family. Yes, he had pulled his wand on her twice since then, and shoved her into a brick wall, but that was the definition of family as far as he was concerned.

In the darkness, blue sparks appeared like lightning bugs, or stars. If stars could orbit a person.

"Don't be scared," Hermione breathed, as the sparks, like blue embers, traveled up the lengths of her curly hair. As if stirred by a breeze, the curls lifted from her shoulders, twisting slightly in the air. Sirius could feel the magic swirling around them, picking up speed. He watched as Hermione shut her eyes and sighed, a look of relief etched into her features. He wouldn't dare pull away from her, not now. Not while this witch in his arms was showing him a side of her few had seen.

It was with surprise Sirius realized she wasn't even holding a wand.

This wasn't Dark or evil magic, this magic was pure. Unfiltered. The way the magical current flowed around her was mesmerizing. It seemed to move with her in perfect synchronization. Right now the grief and sorrow was palpable, mirroring her exactly. A back corner of Sirius' mind considered what his cousin Dora, a metamorphmagus, would think if she saw another human mood ring.

When Hermione opened her eyes, the awestruck face of Sirius Black filled her vision.

"Thank you," Sirius intoned, "for showing me."

Hermione actually giggled, her musical laughter filled the night with hope. "Thank you."

"Me? I'm only the furniture around here," Sirius joked, giving her a small squeeze to indicate her position on his lap.

She blushed scarlet immediately, the sparks in the air turning pink as she realized how much skin she was showing. But teasing was clearly the right way to go, her magic slowing slightly for her higher comfort level. She had been unsure before, and anxious, so everything had been swirling faster than usual.

She stood up, and dusted herself off (though it wouldn't make a dent in her destroyed jeans), offering Sirius a hand. "Right, let me just finish up here," she said apologetically. It wasn't like her to get so off track.

Removing her wand from the holster on her forearm, Hermione turned toward the gates of the property. Her wandwork was incredibly precise. As he watched, she swirled her wand in a lattice pattern, weaving through the air, following with a nonsensical movement of what Sirius could only assume was a midair essay using her wand as the quill.

Out of everything, her final enchantment was the most complex. She needed two hands, one for the wandwork, the other molding and pushing and steering, almost like she was rolling out dough.

The magic felt the most final that time, as well. Before Sirius' eyes, a solid wall of ivory stone took shape around the perimeter of the Longbottom property. Then Hermione's wand twirled, as if turning a key in a lock, and the wall vanished again, although Sirius knew it was definitely there.

The sparks floating in the air had all but disappeared; the ones still glowing turned to a dim periwinkle. Hermione turned back to Sirius, and opened her mouth to say something, but yawned instead.

"Let's all go to my flat, and have a kip, yeah?" Sirius suggested, "It's almost daybreak anyway, so Harry won't mind the move, the little fawn."

Hermione nodded blearily, not able to muster the energy to actually reply. That the Longbottoms were safe took a huge weight off her shoulders. Her thoughts turned to Neville, slipping that sweet wrapper into his pocket at St. Mungo's, the only form of affection his mother had been capable of giving. Things will be different now- better, even, she thought, a bittersweet feeling accompanying it. Sorrow for her Neville, the one she couldn't help; and relief for the Neville sleeping upstairs, the one who would never know such loss or pain.


Hoping to deal with Dumbledore in the next chapter... May stray into bashing territory, fair warning.

Let me know if you have any suggestions about that confrontation! I have a general outline of the whole story already, but not sure about the specifics yet.