Chapter 25

"Look, Padfoot, all I'm saying is that just because she's got knockers doesn't mean you have to shag her."

"Are you saying it's a reason not to?"

"No."

"Would you shag her? I mean, if there wasn't Lily flower to consider, of course. No answer. You'd do it too, so don't give me any of that."

"I just say try getting a girl and not having sex with her within the first three days."

"Come off it, Prongs. I've never tricked a single girl. They've all agreed to it. You know me better than that."

"Some times I wonder."

"Shut it."

"Hey, don't hit me!"

"Then don't hit back!"

Sirius Black shook his head. He glanced to the side to get his bearings. He was in his office at home. He had spaced out while going over a financial profile. What was that he had just imagined? He had seen himself, as a younger man, perhaps in his last year or so of Hogwarts, talking civilly and jokingly with James Potter. Sirius grimaced. No such thing had even happened within the realms of reality.

Sirius pondered momentarily if he was going mad. For months now, he had been having dreams that had seemed so familiar, like memories, yet Sirius knew they could have never happened in real life. These almost-memories featured him interacting with blood traitors and mudbloods as though they were his friends. They would joke and laugh and hug. They called each other by nicknames, those strange names that Potter always tried to call him, that Padfoot and Prongs nonsense. He always seemed so close to Potter and his mudblood in those almost-memories.

Perhaps he was going mad. Sirius was under tremendous and constant stress. He was one of the most wanted men in Britain. He was head of an entire vast family and all its fortunes. He was trying to balance his duties as the Dark Lord's general with raising a son and daughter. He was trying to teach Harry all he would need to know to take over the family one day. If Sirius was indeed losing his mind, perhaps these strange dreams were side effects.

If they were, it was getting serious. They had begun to infiltrate his waking hours too.

Sirius resumed reading his report. He frowned. Adrienne had been spending far too much money lately. He made a note to have the gold cleared out from the vault she had access to for a few months. That would remind her to keep her spending in check. He sent an elf out with the message and stood from his chair. After a quick stretch, he strolled from the office.

He walked into the parlor where Atria was playing with her dolls and was surprised to see his mother rather than a House Elf watching over her. "Mother," Sirius asked with concern, "why are you out of bed?"

Walburga smiled at her elder son. She motioned weakly to her granddaughter with her hand. Over recent months, she had become even more ill, and speaking easily tired her. Sirius strongly suspected that his mother would not be alive much longer.

"Mother, Atria could have been brought to your room if you wanted to see her," Sirius said. "You need to stay in bed. You don't have the strength for this right now."

Walburga frowned and said in a near whisper, "When will I ever again?"

"Do not speak so negatively, Mother," Sirius said with a glance to his daughter. She was hardly six years old. She didn't need to hear anyone speaking of her grandmother dying. Atria continued to play with her dolls, showing no indication that she was paying an ounce of attention to the adults in the room. "I'll have the elves bring you back upstairs. If you wish, Atria can go up with you." Walburga stared at her son with a steely eye for a few seconds before nodding. Sirius called sharply for two elves to levitate his mother back to her room. To a third he muttered, "Be sure they slam their hands in the oven for bringing her down." Then, he scooped up Atria and her dolls and walked her up the stairs.

Sirius had hardly set her down when his forearm began to burn. Quickly, Sirius ran from the room and down into the parlor. He grabbed his cloak and mask from the stand and disappeared into the fireplace.

As with every battle, the chaos began immediately. Buildings were blasted to rubble, and bodies littered the streets. Sirius was careful as always to watch out for Order members and Aurors as he shot his own jinxes and curses across the battlefield. He frowned out as he watched his operatives struggling to make it past a particularly efficient Auror team. He glanced down at his two guards. Sirius was quite capable of holding his own in any battle, so he motioned for them to reinforce their fellow Death Eaters.

With a hawk's eye, Sirius smirked as he watched the team break through the Auror's line of defense. He jumped back as a wave of red sparks shot past his face. Sirius turned to see who had fired the spell at him and was met with the sight of Lily Potter. Not quite in the mood for playing, Sirius glowered at her. "You've picked a foul day to cross my path, Mrs. Potter," he said leaping down from his perch, jinx blasting her way.

Lily dodged, firing her own spells back at him. Sirius snorted as he blocked them. Both the Potters were pathetic duelers. They never fired aggressive spells at him, excluding the occasional Stun Spell. Although elementary, Sirius shot a Jelly Legs Jinx at the woman. It hit, and she crumpled to the ground, giving Sirius ample opportunity to hit her with the Cruciatus Curse. Lily withered on the ground, screaming with intense pain. Sirius grinned as he let the curse beat down on her relentlessly. He broke the curse only to keep her conscious, giving her a few seconds of recovery before renewing the pain.

After a few minutes, short for him but a small eternity for her, Sirius lifted his wand. Lily lay on the ground gasping for air. Blood was pouring from her nose and lip where she had bitten down too hard. A bruise was forming over her right eye where she had hit her head from the fall. Sirius stood over her, wand grasped tightly in his hand. Lily remained on the ground, eyes closed tightly as she struggled through the remaining pain to find her wand. Sirius chuckled. "I've waited a long time for this, Potter," he sneered, holding his wand over his head.

The tip of his wand glowed the eerie green of the Killing Curse.

With an expression Sirius could almost call resign, Lily Potter opened her eyes to watch him as he delivered the final blow. Sirius stopped.

Her green of her eyes was dull and lifeless, a mockery of the usual brightness. She lay staring up at him unmoving, still as if death had already claimed her. The sounds of the battle faded, and the street melted away. They were replaced by the booming claps of thunder and the remains of a once splendid old house. Her hair was fanned around her, mixing seamlessly with blood.

An explosion of blue sparks erupted in the sky, signaling that the mission had been accomplished. Somehow, Sirius registered it. He immediately Apparated away.

Hermione Granger whistled cheerfully along with the suits of armor that lined the main hall of Hogwarts. She had completed her last winter final and would be returning home for the holidays in a couple of days. Normally, Hermione just passively enjoyed Christmas, but for some reason, she was feeling particularly festive this year. The candy was sweeter, the snow more beautiful, and the songs more singable. Tinsel lined the hallways, and fairies serving as living lights sparkled in the candlelight. Hermione adore it all.

Hermione had just left Ron, Neville, and several other housemates outside where they had been engaged in an epic snowball fight. Having agreed to not use magic, Hermione had been without her extensive Charms knowledge to back her fighting and prison escapes. Being that she had been early imprisoned in the snow fortress and all of her attempts at escape had been foiled, Hermione was soaking wet and freezing. Not wanting to catch a cold at the beginning of the holidays, Hermione had decided to head in early.

Instead of returning to the Tower, Hermione jogged down the halls to hers and Harry's room. She wasn't expecting him to be in there—although she had swiped the Marauders' Map just in case—but was pleased to find him reclined in the green armchair reading a book in the warmth of the fire. He looked up as she entered the room and raised a brow at her wet clothes. "Soaked much," he asked.

"Snowball fight," she responded, removing her coat and laying it next to the fire to dry. She pulled off her hat, scarf, and gloves. Using her wand to blow warm air, Hermione dried her wet bottom. She sat on the couch, adjusting her skirt over her tights and looking over at Harry.

"Done," he asked.

"Quite," Hermione answered with a smile.

"Right," Harry said, marking his place in his book and joining her on the couch.

"Ready for the holidays?"

Harry pursed his lips together. "Well, it will be the first one without my grandmother," he said. Hermione winced. "Don't worry about it," Harry said before she could open her mouth. He had been close to his grandmother, closer than most children of his society being that she had been more influential in his raising than his proper maternal figure. But Harry had known that his grandmother's death was soon to come. She had been ill since before he could remember. The potions had kept her going for a long time, far longer than nature itself would have intended. But she had joined her ancestors, and Harry knew she was now happy.

Hermione could empathize with Harry, but she couldn't really sympathize. She still had all of her grandparents. In fact, Hermione had never lost anyone close to her. She came from a Muggle family, so apart from the occasional fear of Death Eaters attacking Muggles, Hermione's family was uninvolved with the war. Harry was right in the middle. Most of his family members were in some way involved with the Dark Lord.

Hermione sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry's arm draped lazily over her shoulders. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. This was something Hermione had always loved about being with Harry. They didn't need to talk. With her other friends, silences always felt awkward. But it was never like that with Harry. Hermione leaned her head up towards the ceiling, and her face turned bright red. "Oh," she exclaimed.

Harry glanced down at her with a raised brow. Seeing her eyes locked on the ceiling, he too looked up. His face paled slightly. There was a little bundle of the school's wandering mistletoe hanging above their heads. The two teenagers sat frozen staring at the little plant hanging with false innocence above their heads. "Hm," Harry finally cleared his throat. "That's interesting."

"I didn't know they could get in here," Hermione said as objectively as she could. The effect was more than likely lost due to the bright glowing of her cheeks.

"Guess so," Harry said. He turned his eyes back down to look at her. Hermione could feel the gaze, but she kept her eyes locked on the ceiling. She felt completely mortified. This was the perfect and most innocent opportunity to kiss him. And if he got weirded out, which he more than likely would, Hermione could just blame the mistletoe. But Harry knew she normally wasn't one to go the flow of everything if it seemed out of place to her. And kissing him should seem out of place, after all.

It was best to just not take the risk. By nature, Hermione wasn't really a risk taker. She formulated all the things that could and probably would go wrong in a given situation. But if a course of action needed to be taken, she would find the safest and most foolproof way. There was no foolproof way to kiss Harry. And Hermione was perfectly fine with their relationship as it was. She didn't need anything to change. She might wish it could progress, but there was no need for a change.

"Mistletoe really is such an unattractive thing," she began to ramble. "Kills the trees it grows on, you know. I can't imagine what possessed people to use it. I mean, the only thing that makes it even remotely appealing is that little ribbon they tied to it. It's such a silly, useless little tradition, mistletoe. I mean, there's no real reason to do it, and there's certainly no one around to say that we should, and—"

Quite suddenly Harry put his hand to Hermione's cheek and pushed her lips to his, effectively silencing her. Hermione sat in frozen shock, her mind not quite comprehending what was happening to her. Harry Black…Harry was…kissing…her. Harry was kissing her.

Harry drew back from her, his hand still resting against her cheek. Hermione stared back at him. Grey locked with brown. Neither seemed able to move or speak.

Harry stroked his thumb against her skin and offered her a tiny smile. They closed the space between them, lips meeting again. This time, Hermione was able to kiss back. The kiss quickly lost the innocence of the first one as Harry pushed Hermione back into the couch and slipped his tongue into her mouth, which she met with the same enthusiasm. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and Harry ran a hand down her side, causing her to giggle slightly.

Suddenly something occurred to Hermione, and she broke off the kiss. "Wait," she breathed heavily, "Harry, stop."

"Why," Harry asked, moving to try and kiss her again.

"No," Hermione said firmly, pushing him up. She had been wishing for something like this to happen for so long, she couldn't believe she was stopping it. Harry looked like he couldn't believe it either. He was still leaning over her when Hermione asked, "Why are you doing this, Harry?"

"Why," Harry asked with an almost nervous hint in his voice. "Well, the mistletoe," he tried.

"Only requires one kiss," Hermione finished. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you," he retaliated. Hermione shook her head at his evasive tone.

"Are you just doing this because you think you can get away with it, that I wouldn't say anything or stop you," she asked.

"What? No," Harry said, moving off of her and clearly offended by her very suggestion. "I wouldn't do that to you, especially not to you."

Hermione sat up. She locked her eyes with Harry's face, but he kept his gaze on his hands. It seemed a strange twist. It was normally Hermione who first broke eye contact. "Then why are we doing this, Harry? Does it mean to you what it means to me?"

Harry frowned. He hadn't properly thought this through when he first kissed her. He should have known one kiss would make him want another. Then he should have known that she would demand to know what he was doing. But oddly, she didn't seem disgusted, and she had seemed to have enjoyed it for at least a few minutes. Her mind must have finally caught up with her.

He didn't want to have to talk about this. He just wanted it to happen. He just wanted to be with her. Not only was he a man, but he was of the highest class of pureblood. He wasn't raised to have to talk about things. He was raised with a name and attitude that would get him anything he wanted or needed. He looked up to see Hermione's expectant expression. Well, almost anything. He couldn't get away with such things with her.

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe this was happening. "You know I would never take advantage of you like that," he started. "Not that you would let me," he tried joking. Hermione looked to have lost her cheerful mood. Harry furrowed his brows. He didn't know how to say what he needed to—a rare occasion—so Harry just opened his mouth and let the words tumble out.

"Ever since I first met you, I've been trying to understand why I continued to come to you, why I speak with you, why I even look at you. You aren't supposed to mean anything to me. You're supposed to be nothing more than a stain in my otherwise perfect life. This display we've just done, this disgusting—"

"Disgusting," Hermione cried, greatly insulted.

"No," Harry said quickly. "What I mean is, Muggle, we shouldn't have even been friends, but for me to feel like this about you, it wasn't supposed to happen."

Hermione kept her eyes narrowed, but gently asked, "And how do you feel about me?"

Harry finally locked eyes with her. "As ridiculous and corny as it sounds, I just want to be around you. I want to hear you laugh and see you smile. I want to hold you and kiss you again, and I don't want anyone else to ever be close with you. I don't know how long I've felt like this, but I do know that I never want it to stop. I want it to grow stronger. The day I met you, something about me changed. I don't care anymore for Muggles or mudbloods than I did before, but I care for you, and I can't imagine not being like this," he spilled.

"That is pretty corny," Hermione said, a smile finally lighting up her face. Harry shrugged. She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "We've kept our friendship a secret for this long, so who's to say we can't hide this too?"

Harry returned her embrace. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be?"

"Any more dangerous than being friends," she asked.

"Good point, but probably," he said.

"Harry," she said, lowering his face to lock eyes, "I don't care. The way I feel about you is too strong for me to care about what other people, even your father, would think."

Harry rested his forehead against hers. "So we're doing this," he asked. She nodded. He chuckled. "How did we manage to come to this?" Hermione just laughed. Harry leaned down and kissed her again. Both smiled. Finally, they could do this whenever they wanted.

Harry and Draco walked into the Black family home, dropping cloaks and trunks for the House Elves to take care of. They walked into the parlor where their families were awaiting their return for the holidays. Atria ran into Harry's arms before he had taken two steps into the room. Narcissa kissed the boys on the cheek, and they shook hands with their fathers. The boys took their own seats, and the family conversed about the semester, Atria asking questions excitedly about Hogwarts as if she'd never heard of the place before.

Dinner was set around an hour later. They adjourned into the dinning hall and set themselves in proper order around the table. Narcissa and Adrienne chatted, and Draco and Harry kept Atria entertained. Sirius and Lucius, Harry noted, were oddly silent throughout the meal. After desert had been served and eaten, they remained seated around the table, another odd occurrence. Harry and Draco looked at each other mildly confused over Atria's head. The family normally returned back to the parlor for wine after their meals.

Even Atria seemed to notice that something was odd. In attempts to break off the heavy silence, she asked Sirius if she might show Draco and Harry the presents she had gotten for her birthday. "No, Atria," Sirius responded. "Your brother and cousin are to stay downstairs. You may go up to your room if you like." Atria looked up at Harry, unsure if she should leave him alone. Harry smiled and nodded at her. The little girl slipped down from her chair and left the room as quickly as was acceptable for a little lady, a House Elf following closely.

Simultaneously, Sirius and Lucius felt the burning on their forearms. They looked at each other and nodded. "Harry, Draco, fetch your cloaks," Lucius said as he stood from the dinner table.

"Make sure you have your wands," Sirius added as he swept from the room, son and kinsmen behind him.

Harry and Draco spared each other a glance as they followed their fathers, faces white. They didn't have to be told to know what was happening. It was finally their turns to be initiated by the Dark Lord.