Regulus was taking a catnap when he was rudely awakened by the statement, "Reg, you look like shit."

Opening his eyes, he glared at his brother. Clearly, this was some sort of demented nightmare, because Sirius was just sitting there on the other couch in the room, idly flipping through channels on the television. The current station was the one about Nazis.

As this was clearly only a dream, Regulus flipped him off and tried to go back to sleep. Of course, another option was that he was hallucinating from painkillers, but it made no difference in the long run.

"That wasn't very nice," dream-Sirius mentioned. He had stopped changing channels on the television. Regulus really wasn't in the mood to think about what all these details meant in terms of psychoanalysis. It sounded like dream-Sirius walked over to the couch Regulus was currently trying to sleep on and sat down on the other end. "Do you know why there's a television channel solely devoted to the Second World War?" he asked, apparently genuine.

"I don't know. Leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep," Regulus replied, again trying to ignore the obnoxious hallucination.

"I take it we're not going to talk about all this, then?" Sirius inquired. Regulus wasn't in the mood to interpret what his brother was talking about, so he didn't reply. "You're just going to accept it?"

"If you'd go away, I'd be eternally grateful," Regulus muttered in return, wishing the bloody television would turn off. It was his dream, after all. Reality or what passed for it should bend to his will or something of that nature.

"Not going to happen, little bro."

Regulus sacrificed a pillow in the name of chucking something at his older brother.

"Somebody's tetchy today," Sirius commented, depositing the pillow back on Regulus's side of the couch. "Did you forget to take your pills?"

"I took my bloody pills, now go away," Regulus snapped, finally giving up trying to sleep in the bizzaro-dream world. Merlin, he felt like he had been run over by a steam-roller, even in his mind. "And would you turn the damn television off?"

Sirius laughed and said, "Damn, I honest to God didn't think you'd take it this well."

"Whatever," Regulus said. Maybe it was a better idea to try to go to sleep, even if he was stuck in a dream. It might work like a television and switch the metaphorical station. Oh, that was deep. Yes, it had to work.

"You're ignoring me, aren't you?" Sirius suggested jokingly. Yes, there was no other explanation. Regulus was in one of those nonsensical dreams where fish swam through the sky, which was usually either green or yellow. He had been having a lot of those lately, but then painkillers had that lovely effect on him.

"No. I'm trying to switch the channel with my mind," Regulus replied.

"If you don't like the Hitler channel, you should have said," Sirius commented, reaching for the remote. He started to fiddle with it, but Regulus grabbed it and promptly dropped it off the opposite side of the couch. "Okay, I guess you do want to watch Nazis…"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sirius. You're not making sense," Regulus muttered. How would changing the dream-television channel help with this nightmare dilemma? Dream-Sirius honestly needed to have his head examined. For that matter, Sirius needed to have his head examined. Regulus decided to mention that to Sirius the next time he saw him.

"Uh-huh," Sirius said, clearly not believing him. "All right, then, Reggie. Whatever you say." He sighed, and then Regulus realized he really was having a nightmare. Sirius began sincerely, "Look, Reg, I'm sorry I haven't said anything about all this sooner. I should have talked to you about this earlier. I know you've been tearing yourself apart about keeping this secret, Reg, and I haven't blamed you."

"What," Regulus said, now wishing he hadn't removed the remote from both their reaches. If this was his dream, he could watch whatever he damn well pleased, so assuming he could change the channel, there might even be some new Doctor Who on. That would be nice. The series was cancelled six or seven years prior, and there was little to no chance of a revival.

Sirius was staring at Regulus like the younger brother was the crazy one. Why did Sirius have to always be so critical? This was an extended hallucination, dammit! Regulus thought his brain would have at least had the decency to be a bit nicer to him. "Er, I've know you're you since Christmas? And you're acting like a lunatic because you're shite at keeping secrets?" Dream-Sirius attempted to explain. (This was a conformation that Regulus was indeed having a fever-dream. After all, why the hell would Sirius be this straightforward when talking him?)

"Tha's nice," Regulus slurred in reply, his attention drifting to the television. At least this programme wasn't about the Nuremberg Trials or anything else like that. Well, apparently his brain was giving him some sort of reprieve from irony.

Sirius seemed a bit hesitant before he suggested, "Why don't you get some more sleep, and we'll talk later, huh? You don't seem all that lucid."

Regulus made a half-assed attempt to glare at his brother before he sighed. "Whatever. You're not real anyway. 'M hallucinating again or asleep already. Go 'n find James 'n Lily 'n them. I think the Gryffindor common room's past the swimming pool in the middle of the kitchen," Regulus replied, gesturing towards what would normally be the entrance hall but was more frequently the kitchen in these situations.

"…Right," Sirius said, clearly confused. He stood to leave and shuffled nervously for a moment. Awkwardly, he said, "Well, feel better, okay?" Regulus made some sort of acknowledgment that he heard what Sirius had said, so Sirius retrieved the remote and turned off the television. He placed the remote on the table next to Regulus and promised, "I'll come back later, okay, Reg? Don't do anything too stressful, all right?"

Again trying to go to sleep, Regulus made a noncommittal reply. He fell asleep before he heard the front door shut.


Remus was skeptical about the reason Sirius had given for suggesting they go out for drinks. Why they were at a Muggle pub was understandable, yes, but finding Sirius halfway to sloshed needed explaining. On the bright side, that Sirius phoned Remus of his own free will was a sign his depression was lessening, even if he was attempting to drink himself under the table. Dorcas was nowhere to be seen, though.

"Get in an argument with Dorcas, then?" Remus inquired as he sat down across from Sirius. "Haven't seen you without at least one of the entourage since January."

"He thought I—" Sirius began before breaking off. With a sigh, he restarted, "Yeah, Dorcas and I argued, but I just wanted to talk to you alone for once. I feel like I've been a shitty friend to you recently, and if you don't mind, I would like to ask your advice on something."

"That was amazingly eloquent for a man on his… third beer," Remus guess-timated. "And it's fine, Sirius. I've been off on some business for the Order in between catching up with you and Dorcas, and before you ask, yes, I mean I've been working for the Order and going out to dinner with Nymphadora. You are not allowed to tell Dorcas that I admitted it, Sirius. Or Andromeda. She can be bloody terrifying when she wants to be."

Sirius smiled and said, "I'm happy for you, Remus. Really, I am. I'll not say anything to Andy next time I see her." Remus was correct, then. Sirius was on his third drink if he didn't even comment on the accuracy of Remus's estimation. Or, what Sirius had avoided saying what was troubling him. "You been well otherwise?" Sirius asked, fiddling around with one of the coasters on the table. "Family well and all that?"

Remus hesitated. If Sirius was upset, then he didn't really need to hear about Remus's issues. Then again, maybe Sirius honestly just wanted to talk. "Er, I've been fine, yeah. You know about the continuing trials and tribulations with Rom, and Mère and Da are well," he said nonchalantly. Sirius was going to have to direct the course of the conversation after that. Remus could then figure out what was going on and adjust the conversation accordingly.

"What did your arse of a brother do this time?" Sirius inquired, completely unsurprised. There was no real reason to be surprised. After all, Romulus was a royal pain in the ass, and Sirius thought as highly of Remus's brother as Romulus did of him.

"Same old arguments. We're mostly civil now, but he just makes it so hard to explain to my nephews why we don't get along. Luckily, Thérèse is far more open than Rom," Remus began. They paused the conversation to allow Remus to order food. "Anyway, Rom surpassed his previous levels of assholishness by bringing his friend Henri over for Christmas."

"Henri as in Mr. High and Mighty King of All Arsehattery? With whom we had that awkward day out together in the summer of fourth year? God, he was such a prick to Peter," Sirius reminisced. Remus was actually surprised that Sirius was able to mention Peter without wanting to kill him. If Remus didn't know better, he would have said that Sirius was still bitter about what Henri said to Peter.

"Yeah, that Henri. He was in top form, by the way," Remus continued. "Mère wasn't about to take a side, but even she was annoyed that Henri more or less considers me a second-class citizen." He shrugged and admitted, "As long as he and Rom have their hatefest away from the next generation, I'm fine with it. That said, when we visited Grandma and Granda's, I managed to get Mère to insist that Henri fichez le camp, or as you would have said, go fuck himself six ways from Sunday and jump off a cliff to boot."

"So your mum still follows the sage advice of Theodore Roosevelt?" Sirius quipped.

"To the tee. She's finally actually acquired an actual stick to hit people with, mainly Rom," Remus reported impartially. "Granda's getting pretty old, but Grandma's still as intimidating as when I was five. I actually managed to have a conversation with her this time."

Sirius clearly read between the lines and asked, "Is everything all right with your grandfather? Usually you tell me of the great and excellent things he says about your brother, even if said arse is in the room."

Remus didn't particularly want to air his dirty laundry, but this was Sirius. They were still best friends, right? Sure, he'd been more or less sheltering the loon the entire time he was on the run (after he learned of said idiot's innocence, of course), but they were vastly different now. Did Remus really feel comfortable talking about his problems with Sirius?

"That bad, huh?" Sirius commented, staring seriously at Remus. He grimaced and said, "I only wish one of us was at least approaching happy. Things going well with Tonks, at least?"

"Lies and slander, Sirius. I am not dating your niece," Remus replied automatically. Sirius raised an eyebrow in response, which induced Remus to realize what he said and corrected, "Things are fine. She's very…"

"If you say bendy, I'm going to excuse myself to regurgitate my lunch," Sirius declared.

Remus shot an unamused look at Sirius and said, "I was not going to say bendy. I was going to say that she's far too full of life to be stuck with me." It was the truth, after all. Remus was too old and too poor for a girl like Nymphadora. She had her whole life ahead of her, and she didn't need to waste it on a poor, fucked-up man old enough to be her father.

"Remus, she's free to make her own decisions, and if I were so inclined and not an ex-convict, I would totally want to marry you, but as I'm not, I'll settle for an epic bromance," Sirius told him with a straight face and sounding completely matter-of-fact. He even was resorting to a meaningful stare, which was semi-disconcerting as Sirius tended to mix those up with the puppy-dog eyes. Remus realized the Order was incredibly lucky to have Sirius on their side. Who knew what kind of power the Death Eaters could have possessed with Sirius's puppy-dog look. Remus shuddered to think about it.

"I'll assume that's a complement," Remus decided.

"Damn straight it is. You'd be lucky to have me," Sirius retorted with a self-satisfied smirk. Remus had the urge to throw a pastry at him but restrained himself.

The train of thought that resulted from the food-fight fantasy concluded with the realization that Sirius had successfully derailed Remus from asking why he was drunk. This error needed to be rectified, stat. "What about you, Sirius? Since we're talking about why I'm less than overjoyed with life, the universe, and everything, why don't we talk about your problems?" Remus suggested, taking Sirius off-guard.

"My brother's an idiot," Sirius began. Remus waited for a continuance of the rant that had begun. He must have heard this one at least seventeen times since Regulus died. At least Sirius was back to near accepting that said family member was dead. "He's a complete and total idiot. Have I mentioned that?"

"Repeatedly," Remus answered. Once upon a time, he had memorized the responses he had needed to say in order to prevent Sirius from attempting to go drink a liquor store dry. Of course, at that point in time, Remus registered the tense Sirius was using. Present. Not past or pluperfect. Present. Oh, no, he wasn't back to one of the previous stages of grief again, was he?

"No, Remus, he's gone and outdone himself," Sirius contradicted, draining the rest of his most recent drink. He was going to order another, but Remus managed to catch the eye of the bartender so as Sirius would be cut off from the booze.

Remus knew there was no pleasant way to say what he needed to, so he reminded Sirius as gently as possible, "Sirius, Regulus is dead."

"Isn't. You were right," Sirius corrected. He didn't even seem angry that Remus had brought up his brother, and he glanced around in a paranoid way to make sure no one was listening. Remus thought this was unnecessary, as his best friend had finally gone off the deep end. In a manner Sirius considered subtle, he explained, "White is Black."

Remus cringed on the inside and thought, Let the shitstorm commence. "Ah. That," he said noncommittally. "Are you sure?" Remus inquired, hoping Sirius had come to the conclusion based on conjecture and a severe lack of solid evidence.

"Yep. Narcissa is all-knowing, and Vesta explained it all, more or less," Sirius replied concisely. "I'm not really all that angry about that, though. It's more that he's still a bloody idiot and works himself to death. Also that he thought he was hallucinating when I confronted him about it this morning."

"Hence the drinking," Remus finished, piecing the rest of the series of events together. "Well, aside from that, you've good news," he decided. Sirius didn't need to borrow trouble, especially not now. Voldemort and the rest were planning on attempting to retrieve the prophecy about Harry from the Department of Mysteries, and Remus really did not want to have to have some final showdown there with Sirius in a bad mental state. He'd probably end up deciding to do some immensely stupid gesture, like challenging Bellatrix to a duel and falling through the Veil for his effort. That would be far too much like him.

"True," Sirius admitted. "Haven't talked to 'Sia lately, but that's mostly because I've been trying to pull Reggie's arse out of the fire every five minutes. God, that kid's high maintenance," he bitched after convincing the bartender to give him another drink. "I've no bloody idea how he's managed to live almost fifteen years without me to keep his life from exploding in his face. Actually, in retrospect, his wife probably managed that. She's good for him, you know. Strong personality, smart, and bloody gorgeous to boot. I approve."

Remus hid a grin and said, "Well, I'm sure he'll be glad when he realizes you approve."

"Better damn well be," Sirius grumbled.

"Seriously, though, Sirius. I'm happy for you," Remus said sincerely. "You should be, too. You deserve to be, so don't go thinking you don't."

"'m a shitty brother," Sirius grumbled. "Can't even fucking gather the courage to tell him I know he's him when he's not high as a kite on painkillers."

Remus realized where this conversation was going and what Sirius's comments earlier had meant. "Dorcas dragged you off to go tell him, didn't she?" he said, a little annoyed.

"Yup," Sirius replied. "She was right, though. Completely right. By the way, the Raiders sequels were awesome. One of them even had James Bond in it!"

"I'm glad you've come to those conclusions," Remus said carefully. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why Sirius thought the two pieces of information were connected, but he had long since stopped trying to fathom the manner in which his friend's mind worked.

"By the way, Dorcas and I are bringing a new recruit to the Order meeting," Sirius said tangentially, clearly trying to steer the topic away from his existential pain. Unlike other times Sirius changed the topic of conversation from one that upset him to one that did not, Remus approved of this decision. He didn't know how else to tell his friend to stop whining, because at this point he was simply whining. Hopefully Sirius had received the message and was only on his whinging rampage because he was slightly drunk.

"And who's that?" Remus inquired, taking a drink of the soda he had ordered earlier.

"Moody's going to be pissed," Sirius explained conspiratorially.

Remus wished his deductive reasoning skills were not as good as they were, if only because of Sirius.


"Wait, I thought you two had already started having sex again," Auriga interrupted, highly confused. She was aware that Artemesia and Sirius had strange mating habits, but there was no decent reason in her mind to explain why they weren't shagging like bunnies. Hell, Auriga was surprised that Sirius had been able to keep his pants on for so long.

Artemesia sighed exasperatedly and in a clearly frustrated manner explained, "Well, if it were up to me, that would have happened a long while ago. However, I apparently have to go through the entire process of seducing him all over again. I swear to God, I don't care if he's worried that he's out of practice! I am, too, more or less, and, dammit, I want sex!"

Auriga raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'seducing him all over again'? I thought he was as easy as Newtonian physics," she inquired. "Didn't he sleep with a new bird each week when we were in school? I mean, it definitely seemed like it."

"No. Sirius could be one hell of a prude. Snog everything female on two legs, yes. Fuck 'em? Nah. I have it on good authority that Regulus would have if asked, but aside from that," Artemesia complained. "Why did I go after the prudish if slightly less fucked-up one?"

"Because Regulus had a spine made of Jello and Sirius is putty only in your hands," Auriga reminded her friend. She should not have suggested they have a drink. They should have had a non-alcoholic drink. Auriga should have specified that. Sure, Artemesia wasn't as much a lightweight as she seemed, but she liked to act like a drunk even if she'd only had one sip or two.

"Pfft. Regulus is as stubborn as an ox. Kid doesn't know when to quit," Artemesia argued, making her usual drunken gestures in the air. Okay, she might be in her cups, but there was no reason for her to be switching tenses this early in the night. "You know, Sirius was convinced that the only reason the kid decided to play Seeker on the Quidditch team was because it would give Slytherin an upper hand since at least one of the Gryffindor Beaters would be less than willing to send a bludger at him."

Auriga was uncertain that said argument was valid. "Doesn't that support the Sirius-is-paranoid theory instead of the Regulus-had-a-backbone one?" she asked, hoping that her line of inquiry was not to be hijacked and result in a dissertation on why the Black brothers were completely mental in their own special little ways.

"True," Artemesia had the decency to admit.

There was a brief silent gap, so Auriga decided she would be able to change the subject properly. "So, how about that decree of Umbridge's?" she said lamely. Even Auriga was aware she was the least subtle person on the planet.

"Does it even matter?" Artemesia asked in exasperation. "She's bloody mad. The Defense class has been completely destroyed despite all of Severus's efforts. What's the point of the class if they don't have practicals? It's like Potions without the potions-making!"

Auriga loved it when a plan came together. "Well, you do know that some people in government do not approve of the idea that children are taught how to defend themselves against that which they may never encounter. I mean, there are decent reasons for them preferring not to turn a school into a paramilitary institution," Auriga pointed out.

"I know, but I also know they base it on the argument that Muggles are the more dangerous ones. Sometimes I wonder if Vesta isn't right and that we should legalize hunting again," Artemesia grumbled. Auriga hadn't thought the topic of their conversation would lead them to another controversial topic, but there wasn't much she could do to stop it.

"Artemesia, look, the Wizarding World as a whole isn't too keen on stopping the practice of Obliviating hunters. They think we're worshiping the devil," Auriga argued. "And I know that while you think they do good, not everyone does. Sure, some of them can be reasoned with, especially when you point out that you weren't doing wrong, but there are still the nutters like the Van Helsings who don't care about intent."

"If it's supernatural, it's evil, you mean? That mentality? The hunters I've met have been perfectly nice and reasonable, although they're respected even amongst their own for living so long," Artemesia mentioned off-handedly. "Apparently there's elevated demon activity in the Midwest nowadays. No one's quite sure why, though. I know it's no reason for us to change our laws, but I've the feeling that hunters'll be focusing on bigger game soon. We're small fry in any world compared to demons and their pet warlocks."

Auriga sighed and said, "Stop being so obtuse. I know you're all for this stuff, but do you really think any of the old families will go for it? I mean, Sirius is the exception, not the rule, remember?"

"Hunters are still no reason for Umbridge to change the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum, especially now that most of the Campbells are gone. Training kids from birth to fight what goes bump in the night is just wrong," Artemesia declared, clearly having reached her booze limit. Auriga should have removed the empty bottle from the table when it was still at two-thirds full. "Sure, the Van Helsings are still around, but they're a bit whacky anyway."

"Well, Artemesia, the Van Helsings still scare a lot of people. Even some of the more recent magical families have family members who were killed by hunters, usually those related to the Van Helsings. So the US Department of Magic has gone soft on hunters, but the big families over there are, as you mentioned, relatively sane," Auriga said in counter-argument. "Also, there are so many different kinds of hauntings in the States that hunters don't bother to start witch-hunts nowadays. I mean, hunters over there just clean up the trash, right?"

"Pretty much," Artemesia admitted. "Still, fuck Umbridge. She's actually making Snape tell the kids about all this stuff, about who the big hunters are and why they do that sort of thing. It's sick, and she's spreading prejudice."

Auriga grimaced and said, "I see where you're coming from. I really do, but not everyone is as open-minded as you are. How many of your ancestors were killed by hunters?"

"Twenty-four, not counting those from before the Founders. We were usually lucky enough to get away," Artemesia relented. "And Sirius has something in the hundreds, but the Ministry was as guilty as the hunters were in that. You remember the weird stories that used to be passed around? About necromancy running in his family? Apparently it was true."

Auriga recoiled. Necromancy? Really? Sure, some communicating with the true dead was okay, but full-blown raising people from their graves? That was just sick. "I take it that's why Bellatrix was nuttier than a fruit-cake?" Auriga inquired, seeking to decrease the tenseness in the room.

"No, she's just batshit, if it makes you feel better. Also, Sirius was paranoid for a while that he could sense that stuff, but Regulus thankfully slapped some sense into him," Artemesia explained. "The kid had done some research and found out that their family used to do the sort of services now associated with hunters, like getting rid of violent spirits, zombies, and the like."

"Why did Regulus have such a morbid fascination with that?" Auriga wondered. "I mean, he was interested in the weirdest shit aside from being a magical Nazi and spineless."

"I suppose it was the fact he's really good with destructive spells and their opposite number in healing," Artemesia mused. "That's more than enough to fuck someone up."

Auriga decided at this point that trying to derail Artemesia from her rant about her lack of sex had been about as intelligent as deciding to argue with a wall. "Right… And you were saying something earlier about Sirius?" she prompted, this time ready for the deluge.

"You cannot get me to switch topics that easily, Auriga," Artemesia declared. "I still had half a rant left in me about Umbridge and her racist ways. She makes Lucius Malfoy look like an innocent little Tribble. At least he isn't advocating whole-sale slaughter. Oh, wait. He is."

"That made no sense," Auriga gently pointed out. "And you're right about Umbridge, but we were talking about your relationship issues, remember?"

"You mean my lack of sex? Yes… I fucking hate the Blacks and their issues," Artemesia hissed, finally at her drunken point of no return. "They're about as sense-making as the Jabberwocky. They need to get with the program and stop acting like dumbasses."

"Regulus is dead."

"…Right. Well, Sirius needs to stop acting like a dumbass. I'll excuse the dead from my insults," Artemesia corrected. "And I'll instead say that Terry needs to also get with the program and stop acting like a dumbass, because his bullshit is about as annoying as Sirius's and results in Sirius being more ridiculous than usual. I am not going to stand for this nonsense, Auriga."

Yes, Auriga was getting non-alcoholic beer next time. No more hard liquor for Artemesia. Hard liquor bad, non-alcoholic beer good.


Hermione Granger had been minding her own business for the past hour, doing homework in the Great Hall. Ron and Harry were goofing off in another part of the castle, which gave her time to do her homework and edit their papers. On the bright side, at least Ron seemed to be actually reading her comments, unlike Harry. This was at least the sixth time she had needed to remind him of the comma splice. He seemed inordinately fond of it. Harry was slowly learning about organization, though, so Hermione couldn't complain.

Their Defense Against the Dark Arts class was becoming more insipid by the day. The class earlier that day was again about the Van Helsings. Contrary to all the Muggleborns' belief, Van Helsing did actually exist, and his descendents killed the creatures that went bump in the night. Hermione had since checked a book out of the library on the topic of these Muggle "hunters" in order to determine a less biased view. So far, Umbridge had hijacked the class and discussed two major families of hunters, one of which was the Van Helsings and the other of which was the Campbells. The latter was a now-defunct family of hunters that had been wiped off the face of the Earth by demons, apparently. In their heyday, they had been the plague of the magical community in North America, according to Umbridge.

Hermione had been swift to point out the flaw in Umbridge's logic. If the Campbells were hated by demons, they clearly could not be labeled Dark. If anything, they had to be allies with all good-affiliated beings in an unspoken manner. Umbridge had replied that the Campbells were ruthless when dealing with spirits and witches, regardless of circumstance, and gave Hermione a detention. Hermione later went to see Professor McGonagall with a complaint about the treatment, and Professor McGonagall had thankfully had a talk with Umbridge.

Now Hermione just had to write a paper on hunters. Umbridge had demanded fifty inches, but Hermione was going to give her 3,500 words on the matter, double-spaced with one-inch margins in Times New Roman. A ten-page paper seemed adequate to present her views, especially if she could acquire some reliable information about hunters.

As Hermione continued planning her academic revenge, a Hufflepuff interrupted her zen. It was one of the black-haired menaces. Yes, the Gemma girl was nice enough, but the other two were hell on wheels. "Yes?" Hermione said as she continued to work.

"I need some advice," the boy stated. He looked uncomfortable with the implied request, and Hermione had half a mind to simply ignore him. "I know you don't particularly like me, but I swear this will be the last time I bother you."

Hermione sighed and waved him on. She was becoming soft in her old age.

"So, you know how my sister's gone completely off the rails, right?" the boy began.

Hermione had to interrupt him. Yes, she had heard about the "going off the rails", but she wasn't so sure that was the best word for it. Gone Darkside, maybe. Regardless, the girl was well on her way to becoming a Death Eater-in-training. "I heard she's acting more and more like Malfoy by the day," Hermione acknowledged.

The boy looked upset that Hermione had been blunt, but she had a feeling that was because of the topic. "Yeah, but I know she doesn't believe in any of that crap," he explained. "She's just doing it to get back at our dad, because he's been, uh, lying to us about… what happened… in the last war." The kid was trying to hide that information, then. Hermione wondered why there would be such secrecy. On one hand, their father (Panther-man?) was clearly involved in the war effort. However, would the secrecy needed for that job require lying about "something" that would send his daughter into a self-destructive tailspin?

"Has she talked to your father about this?" Hermione asked, partially going back to reading her articles. She did have work to do, you know! Hermione earmarked the paper she was reading at the moment for another pass and a look at the sources.

The boy did not seem to mind that Hermione was working and talking to him simultaneously. He almost seemed to expect it. "I told her she should talk to him if she was so angry, but she bit my head off about how I couldn't handle the truth, and if I knew, my mind would be blown," the boy replied, clearly annoyed at his sister's behavior. He snorted and continued, "But it wasn't me that decided to go join the Empire. I just shouted at Dad until he properly explained himself."

Hermione sighed. Alas, she would have to work a little harder to remove the kid from her presence. "So you know whatever this big secret is?" she inquired. "Did you tell your sister that you know?" The situation was so predictable that Hermione didn't even look up from reading.

"Well, no, but then she'd get pissed at me, too, and Gemma isn't doing anyone any favors by antagonizing her," the boy continued. He was honestly distressed, and Hermione did feel sorry for him, but she did have work to do. Well, if she helped him, then he would leave.

"Your father's friends with Sirius, right? I trust him to be a more or less good judge of character, so this lie your father told was more likely than not to protect both you and your sister," Hermione reasoned, finally looking up from her work. "If you use that logic on your sister, she may listen. Furthermore, if her friends are willing to listen to or side with you, then try to convince them to use the same logic on her."

"Macha's too angry to listen to reason," the boy protested with a slight whine. Hermione was bizarrely reminded of the look on Sirius's face when Molly ordered him to clean the bathrooms in Grimmauld. "Her temper's worse than Mom and Dad's combined."

"Well, what's your dad hiding?" Hermione asked, trying to figure out an alternate way to resolve the situation and have the kid remove himself from her presence. Alas, her dreams of being left alone were shattered when Harry waltzed over with the Charms paper they had to write by the end of the week.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, sitting down at her table with a questioning glance thrown in the direction of boy. "Hey, you're Secret-Agent Man's kid, right?" For the younger boy's part, he didn't look exasperated at Harry's nonchalance.

Hermione sighed and ignoring Harry's comment explained, "He's trying to keep his sister from joining the Hitler Youth to spite their father, because apparently there's a state secret he lied to them about."

"Really?" Harry said pensively. "Huh. So your sister figured out your dad's an ex-Death Eater? He's definitely a cool dude now, though. Otherwise Sirius would've told him to bugger off once he realized your dad is his bro. Well, assuming Sirius has figured it out by now."

Hermione stared at Harry. She had been wondering when he would become convinced of another conspiracy theory. They were overdue for an outbreak of his neuroticism for about four months now. "Harry, stop being ridiculous," Hermione pleaded. "This is serious."

"Well, no, 'cause we're talking about his brother."

"HARRY."

Harry didn't even have the decency to stop acting like an ass and asked, "What?" in confusion. "It's true, you know. I mean, it makes sense. Following Sirius around, looking like his twin, doesn't understand the concept of subtlety… I could continue. Oh, and he's spying on the Death Eaters, clearly. Plus, Dumbledore trusts him, so he has to be a good guy."

Hermione rolled her eyes and apologized to the boy (Leo, that was his name!), "I'm sorry. Harry occasionally has paranoid delusions. For good reason, really, seeing as we've had at least one person try to kill him per year thus far. However, we are aware that your problems are very serious, and we do not mean to belittle them." Hermione sent a meaningful glare Harry's way to drive home the point he shouldn't be airing his conspiracy theory at this time.

Leo looked more or less disturbed by Harry's outburst. "Er, thanks," he said hesitantly. "But it's all right." He continued to stare at Harry in confusion as he said, "Well, uh, thanks for your help, Hermione. Sorry for bothering you. I'll just be going now." There was a pause. "Bye," he said before practically running off.

Hermione turned to Harry and accused, "This is why we can't have nice things!"

Harry shrugged and said, "Some people can't handle the truth."

"Argh! Fine. Whatever. Just leave your Charms essay and go! I'll get it back to you by tomorrow sometime, but I need to write my extra essay now, so if you'd leave," Hermione declared exasperatedly. Her workspace was starting to become more and more hectic. The library was for research, not conversations about spies and Harry's—Okay, so it was the place Harry's conspiracy theories were either validated or debunked, but that was beside the point.

"Okay," Harry said with a grin. "I'll see you later. Good luck with your essay." He then willingly left the library, likely to go hang out with Ron as he fabricated his Divination homework.

Hermione found herself in a now quiet and peaceful workspace. All was right in the world. She returned to her much neglected homework and began to write.


Notes: A revised chapters 36 & 37 have been posted reflecting edits I forgot to make to my electronic copies.

Coming Soon: Regulus and Sirius act par for the course.