"Harry, Hermione, get in here! Ted, Dora!" Sirius's call rings through the hallways, likely magically amplified, and Hermione rolls her eyes at the theatrics but acquiesces.
Tonks is in their hall already, and Harry's head peeks out of his room right next to hers.
"Well, then, place your bets," Tonks whispers, waggling her eyebrows at both of them.
Hermione laughs, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "For him to sound this happy? Someone we hate is dead."
"No, there'd be more gleeful singing," Harry argues. "My guess is something with Uncle Moony—maybe his job, or werewolf rights policies."
Tonks raises an eyebrow. "Noble attempts, but you're both wrong—I'm betting Snape's resigned from the Order."
Harry snorts, and the three of them emerge into the living room, where Ted and Andy are already seated, a beaming Sirius and blushing Remus standing before them.
Sirius clears his throat, waving his arms dramatically. "Well! Now that you're all here, we have an announcement to make. This dashing werewolf agreed to marry my rapscallion self."
Remus flushes further, before continuing. "And then we went straight to the Ministry and got hitched."
"Yay!" Harry cries, rushing forward to hug them both. "Oh, this is brilliant! Congratulations! Also—Tonks, Mia, pay up."
Andy merely quirks an eyebrow. "It's about time."
"Lovely, you too," Tonks congratulates them with a grin, reaching to high five Sirius. "You trapped a good one into the family, cousin. Remus—happy to have you magically bound to us forever."
Remus laughs, expressing his thanks, bumping his elbow into Hermione. "You're next, you know."
"Merlin, don't remind me I'm voluntarily joining these heathens, too."
(She smiles, and congratulates them—and she's objectively glad or them.)
(But she can't feel it—the joy, the happiness, none of it's there. All she can feel is nothingness.
Ted claps his hands together joyfully. "We have to do something to celebrate! How long do we have before the two of you take a honeymoon?"
Sirius's expression grows more serious. "We've decided to put it off until after the Voldemort threat is past. We're not comfortable being out of the country while our kid is in danger."
Guilt creeps up on Harry's face, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Sirius narrows his eyes at him before he can get the words out. "Don't you dare. If you try to say that you don't matter you're grounded till you're thirty." He presses a kiss to the top of Harry's head. "And besides, every day with Moony is a dream. We don't need a special trip to know we love each other."
"Or to invite us to your wedding—rude." Tonks sticks out her tongue. "It's fine. I'll remember this."
An apologetic smile forms on Remus's face. "We love you, and we're sorry you couldn't come. But—we've always wanted it to be just the two of us, when the time came."
"Which Prongs loathed, of course," Sirius interrupts, eyes fond and faraway. "The prat couldn't stand any time anything happened without him. Pouted for a week after not being invited on our first date."
"To his credit, he wasn't a hypocrite about it—always invited us along everywhere. The look on your mum's face when she found out he offered to book us a room next door on their honeymoon…"
(Harry makes a face, but Tonks bursts out laughing and begs for details.)
/
/
It's just a few weeks till term starts; Harry's moaning and groaning about having to go to school and leave his family, and it makes Hermione's heart sing—this boy used to think Hogwarts was the only place in the world he mattered, and now he feels happy enough here to not want to go back.
She's sad to leave Tonks Manor, too—Harry's family really does feel like her own, and it's one of so few places she feels wholly safe and secure.
But then, the routine of Hogwarts is good for her too, and the distraction of classes, the ability to prove she belongs in this world.
(The knowledge that she's safe, and far away; that Hogwarts is so entirely other from the rest of her life.)
They're at breakfast one morning, Tonks relaying a hilarious story about Kingsley once being turned into a flower during a shift they had together at work; Hermione finishes eating and puts her head in its familiar spot on Harry's shoulder.
She catches herself watching Sirius and Remus—the way they constantly have entire conversations through just facial expressions and body language, how instinctively they move relative to each other—it's like gravity.
"Oh, would you look at that—they're here!" Ted exclaims, joyfully moving to open the window and allow the two school owls inside.
She and Harry both rip open the envelopes hastily, her brow furrowing when something heavy drops onto the table.
Her breath catches when she picks it up—the badge glimmers in her palm. "How on earth—"
"What are you—" Harry peers over her shoulder, face lighting up at the sight. "Prefect? That's brilliant, Mia! Congrats—god knows you deserve it."
(Something in her chest pangs, wondering just how much they'd all think she deserves it if they knew everything about her.)
"How have I surrounded myself with such rule followers," Sirius bemoans dramatically, narrowing his eyes at Remus like his influence was the deciding factor.
"Please," Remus rolls his eyes at his husband. "We all knew Dumbledore only appointed me with the hope that I would reign the lot of you in—I was still quite the troublemaker, unfortunately. Which, given the number of Hogwarts rules Hermione has already broken, I don't think you're in too much danger of her becoming a stickler, either."
Hermione laughs, crossing her arms. "I only break the ones that are ridiculous and morally unfounded. If I wanted to I could get away with a lot more—I choose to follow the majority."
"At least one of you didn't let me down," Sirius teases, ruffling Harry's hair fondly. "Pup, I'm very proud of you for carrying on the Marauder legacy."
"Who do you think the other for Gryffindor is?" Harry wonders aloud, earning a frown from Hermione.
"Who even knows, with Dumbledore picking. I'm surprised it's not you."
"Thank god, honestly," he sighs at the prospect. "After the hell that was last year—every year so far, really—all I want is one normal year, and no responsibilities except Quidditch."
Remus arches an eyebrow. "Forgetting something?"
Harry ponders before blushing. "Oh, and classes before everything else, of course."
"Much better."
The two of them begin clearing the table, Hermione sticking the last of the dishes in the sink before padding off to the guest room that serves as hers.
Shortly thereafter, a knock sounds against her door, the tap audible over the music in her earbuds as she leafs through a book. "Come in."
Sirius steps inside, lips briefly pulling up into a smile; he's careful to leave the door open, moving to take a seat on the edge of her bed, across from where she's curled in an armchair.
"How are you doing, kitten?"
"Good!" Hermione replies, smile not reaching her eyes. "Excited for term to start, of course. How are you?"
He ignores the question, eyebrows scrunching with concern. "Hermione, I—I can tell something's wrong. You don't have to tell me about it, but…we both know we're kindred spirits, kitten, and I know we're not alright. You're not yourself, love—you're so quiet, but I know your silence is a deadly sound."
Her heart drops through her stomach and she stiffens, fists clenching defensively. "It's—you don't—where's Harry?"
"He just left to get lunch with Dudley, again."
A smile breaks through her anxiety at the comment—the cousins had met up earlier in the summer, and while the encounter was a bit awkward, Harry came home unable to stop smiling; they've been keeping in contact semi-regularly ever since.
"I'm so glad that they're—"
"Don't avoid the subject."
Her lip trembles. "I still don't know what you're talking about."
"Kitten, you're on edge every time you come back from your place, you flinch if anyone but Harry touches you, and you're becoming an alcoholic."
She gapes, "I am not—why the hell would you say that?"
"Takes one to know one," he says unapologetically. "Accio liquor." A full bottle flies from the back of her drawer of sweaters, another snaking out from under her mattress, and Sirius raises an eyebrow. "Vodka, really? I was always more of a whiskey or bourbon type, myself."
Hermione's eyes begin welling with tears. "I can explain that, it—"
"I don't want to hear whatever excuses you've been practicing; you're brilliant, so I'm sure they're perfectly believable, but I know better. I was the same way when my own mind was hell. When everything was wrong and I wanted to die. When I felt alone in the world and my parents were hurting me." He gives her such a tender, worried expression she wants to flee. "Who's hurting you, kitten?"
Hermione squeezes her eyes shut tight, abandoning the pretense of her book and pulling her knees to her chest. "Please just leave it alone, Sirius. I don't—it's none of your business."
Sirius frowns, expression worried and sad.
(To know so well the darkness of one's soul and know that no amount of saying the right thing can fix it—)
"You're a part of this family and the well-being of my family is my business. I know it's hard to let people be there for you, to open up about what you're going through, but I—"
"You don't know anything about me," she snaps, tone acidic. "Just—leave me alone! Find someone else to give counseling to."
(She wants to scream and cry and shove him, wants to lock herself in the room alone and keep the world out and just sleep and—)
"Hermione—"
"Please, Sirius. Please leave it alone." Her expression is no longer angry, just—sad and scared. "Please just leave it alone."
(It's so familiar, and Sirius knows why she's lashing out, and he knows how important it feels to hide what you're going through while you're in it—it kills him.)
"Okay, love. It's—whatever's best for you." He holds up both hands, gesturing that he'll leave it be. "But whatever you need, I'm here. Even if you don't want to talk about it, but you just need—anything. You're not alone."
She doesn't respond, merely stays curled into a ball until he leaves, when she lets out a shuddering breath that turns into a muffled sob against the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
Sirius means well, she knows he does.
(But she feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to scream at the slightest provocation.)
However much they all claim to want to be there for her, they can never know—she can't even bear the thought of it.
(the shame is already too great.)
There's not long for her to worry over Sirius's intervention, though; an hour later Harry comes racing into the house, an unfamiliar blond boy with him looking extremely pale.
"Mia! Pads! Uncle Pads! Moony! Aunt Andy! Help!"
His calls echo throughout the house, and Hermione rushes from her room immediately, nearly crashing into Sirius in the front room.
They both swarm Harry immediately, hugging first and asking questions second; when Remus emerges onto the scene, he gravitates towards the other boy with a soothing smile.
(No one not paying attention would see the subtle flaring of his nostrils, the way his eyes flash around the room to scan for threats, how his body stays tense until he's ascertained Harry's okay.)
"You must be Dudley. I'm Harry's uncle, Remus—the one currently attacking him is Sirius. I'm sorry for whatever has the two of you so shaken up." He eyes Dudley up and down, before looking to Harry once more as if to check something, his face grim with knowing.
Reaching into his sweatshirt pocket, he pulls out a chocolate bar, breaking it in half and holding out half to Dudley, tapping Hermione until she passes the other to Harry.
Hermione raises an eyebrow at the former professor. "You just keep candy in your pockets all the time, then? Who are you, Willy Wonka?"
The comment earns a snort from Dudley, Harry's own lips twitching towards a smile.
They all gravitate towards the couches, and Remus frowns as he turns to Harry. "Why do you both look like you've had a run in with dementors?"
"Probably because we did," Harry mumbles.
Sirius tenses up, meeting Remus's eyes over Harry's head, while Hermione pulls her brother into a hug, worry etched in the lines of her face.
"What the hell happened, pup?"
"I don't—I don't know," Harry says, voice muffled by Hermione's shoulder. "We finished eating and decided to walk to the park down the block while we talked and then they were just—there, out of nowhere, in the middle of the day. Two of them."
"What are they?" Dudley asks, still looking stricken. "I—I thought I'd never be happy again."
Remus grimaces. "Dementors are—dark creatures, primarily used as prison guards in the wizarding world. They prey on your emotions, grow stronger with the very despair they cause. For them to be in the middle of the city, attacking children in broad daylight…"
"Thank merlin you know the Patronus charm," Sirius shakes his head, gripping Harry's shoulder tightly. "Good job, Moony."
His husband gives a tight lipped smile while rubbing at his temples. "I did hope he wouldn't have cause to use it again for non-communication purposes. I suppose I should know better than to be so optimistic by now."
Dudley sucks in a rattling breath, shakily getting to his feet. "I should go. Mum and Dad are supposed to be home soon, and if they find out I was with Harry…well, you know how they are."
"I'll take you," Remus offers, not trusting Sirius to refrain from sticking around long enough to murder Harry's aunt and uncle. "We can apparate, or if you're more comfortable I do have a car."
"Whichever. I—uh, don't really have anything against magic, given that it saved my life today, so—whatever's easier."
He hugs Harry on his way out, waving to Sirius and Hermione before he and Remus disappear.
"Do you think Voldemort had something to do with it?" Hermione voices the question they're all thinking.
Sirius frowns, shaking his head. "It's too big—he's trying to fly under the radar, and according to McGonagall's spy they want to discredit all of Harry's claims that he's back."
"Which is exactly what happens if they don't believe there really were dementors in the middle of the city—they all think Harry regularly comes up with tall tales, and even less people believe he was telling the truth about the tournament."
"I can't imagine how they'd—"
He's interrupted by an owl tapping on the window; Harry moves to let it in, using the soft voice he reserves specifically for pets, though the official-looking owl seems largely impervious.
"It's for me." He carefully opens the envelope, worrying at his lip; his skin loses all color the further he reads.
"Harry?" Hermione asks gently, moving to lay a hand delicately on his arm.
"They—they're taking me to trial. Before the Wizengamont. For underage use of magic, and—in front of a muggle." His eyes begin welling with tears. "How can they—are there not laws about self-defense? Like in muggle policy?"
Hermione scowls, crossing her arms righteously. "There absolutely are. There's no way they should be charging you for this—and to take the matter before the Wizengamont bypasses about five levels of procedure—"
"Mafalda and I will be having fucking words." Sirius's voice is ice, the anger vibrating from his body. "Tomorrow morning, pup, you and I are going to the Ministry to remind them exactly who they're dealing with and how they will handle the situation—putting you on trial, the fucking audacity."
"They said I could be expelled." He's pale, trembling, eyes so wide and scared. "I—what if they—"
"They can't, Harry—it goes against everything in their policy, and Sirius will go in, and if we need to we'll contact Dumbledore and McGonagall and Moody to come to your defense."
"But what if—what if I'm sent to Azkaban?" They all go silent, for a moment, and Harry begins to spiral. "I—I don't want to bring it up lightly, because—well, you know, but—it's not like I'm not guilty—I did cast the patronus, and in front of muggles."
Hermione squeezes his hand reassuringly, and Sirius bends his knees until he's eye level with his godson.
"Listen to me, son. You are going to be okay. You will return to Hogwarts, you will not be held accountable for the shitty situations others have put you in, so help me god. As for Azkaban…I will die before that happens."
Harry lurches forward to hug him, still shaky, and Sirius holds him to his chest the way he hasn't since he was a baby. "You're not alone, pup. You will never be alone again."
/
The next day, Sirius storms into the kitchen in a mood, his most intimidating formal robes donned and an apprehensive Harry trailing behind him.
"I hear you two are coming to work with me," Tonks says brightly; despite both his' uncles reassurance that there's not a chance in hell of him being penalized, Harry is visibly terrified.
"I'm coming too," Remus informs her, mug of coffee gripped tightly. "Someone needs to keep this heathen from ending up with a restraining order from Mafalda."
"Oh, I'll be going right over Mafalda's head, straight to Amelia Bones, and Cornelius himself if Amy doesn't fix this bullshit."
The fury in his eyes, the righteous anger and hatred toward those who've threatened his kid—he's the closest to a good father figure Hermione and Harry have both ever had, but it scares even them.
(And evidently the Ministry too; when they get home late that evening, a much calmer Harry curls up next to Hermione in her bed and relays the day's events—Sirius flexing his status as the head of one of the most ancient and wealthy wizarding families in the country, Remus rattling off protocols that were violating regarding the legal rights of a minor, a toad-like woman screeching and frowning but being ignored as a nervous Cornelius Fudge hastily issued an apology when Sirius threatened to throw political sway and funding to Dumbledore when the Minister goes up for re-election.)
"I really thought they might snap my wand, Mia," he whispers, and she rubs his back gently.
"They'd have to fight me first," she vows. "And even if they did—I'd let you use mine. Or get you an umbrella like Hagrid's for the pieces. Or we'd run away to another country."
"I'd never ask you to—"
"You wouldn't have to. Family, Harry."
He reaches to squeeze her hand. "I—I'd do anything for you too."
"I know you would."
Sirius comes in to say goodnight; he transforms into Padfoot the make them laugh, loving the innocent smiles that he so rarely gets to see on both their faces.
(Remus finds them the next morning, all sleeping like the dead atop the pile of of blankets, Harry and Hermione's hands tangled in Padfoot's fur.)
/
In the midst of dementors and Order meetings, of secrecy and spiraling—having the boyfriend over to meet the family is a welcome distraction, for everyone.
The doorbell rings, and Andy claps her hands together with excitement. "Finally!"
Tonks rolls her eyes even as she moves towards the door. "You've met Percy already, Mum. Multiple times. There's no reason for you to be this excited about dinner."
"Well I couldn't properly interrogate him all the other times, could I? We were in public! Today's the day I get to actually get the measure of his character," the older woman muses, looking far too eager for her daughter's liking.
"Don't worry, Dora, your mother will be on her best behavior—won't you, love? He's a Weasley—the full Black intimidation would scare him away."
Andy sighs at her husband's pointed look, but nods in reluctant agreement.
Tonks lets Percy in, greeting him with a warm kiss before looping an arm through his. "Hi, hon'. Thanks for coming."
"Of course." He's visibly nervous, but the love in his eyes undeniable when he looks at her.
"You've met my mum before, and then this is my dad."
Ted smiles warmly, the kindness in his face enough to relieve a bit of the tension in Percy's muscles. "Ted Tonks—wonderful to officially meet you, young man."
"You as well, sir. And Mrs. Tonks—er, Andromeda," he corrects at Andy's glare, blushing bashfully as he holds out a boquet. "These are for you. I've a bottle of wine, as well, as—erm, to thank you for inviting me into your home."
"You've never given me flowers!" Tonks says with mock outrage, a hand dramatically pressed to her chest. "What kind of soul mate are you, anyway?"
Percy's eyes roll, and he bumps her shoulder with his fondly. "You would accidentally kill them within an hour."
"Too true," she agrees with a grin. "Kitchen's just through here—Harry and Hermione are finishing set the table, and I believe Remus and Sirius are tracking down some elf wine in the wine cellar."
"Dora said you don't have any food allergies, so I've gone ahead and made a chicken risotto, and apple pie for dessert," Ted tells him. "But if there's anything else you'd like, or if you'd preer other sides, you're welcome to anything in the pantry or fridge, of course."
"Oh, that's so kind of you, you didn't need to go to so much—"
Tonks elbows him, and he blushes, clearing his throat. "I mean, thank you so much."
"No trouble at all, dear boy."
Andy smiles, linking her fingers through Ted's. "You're sleeping with our daughter and you'll be part of the family eventually, it's no trouble at all."
Percy chokes on his own spit, but Tonks is entirely unbothered, carefully patting her boyfriend's back.
Ted gives a world-weary sigh, turning to Andy. "Andromeda, we've discussed this."
"I know, I know," she pouts, resigned in a way that makes it clear they've had this conversation a million times before. "No casual mentions of sex in front of guests until they've been over at least five times. Sorry, Percy, dear. Ted and Remus say I have no sense of boundaries," she rolls her eyes, as though it's the most preposterous notion she's ever heard.
They file into the kitchen, where Sirius and Remus are already seated, looking confused, while Hermione and Harry are both sitting on the floor laughing so hard they can't breathe.
"What'd we miss?" Ted asks, looking every bit the exasperated suburban dad.
"He-the-we—" Hermione collapses into giggles, Harry's own laughter bringing tears to his eyes.
"Don't bother," Remus says dryly. "They've been unable to get words out for five minutes. We were sitting right here the whole time and we still have no idea what set them off."
"H-hi Percy," Harry manages to get out, doing his best not to look at Hermione. "Good to see you."
A snort escapes Hermione, and then they're both cracking up all over again.
"Alright, time to eat, you two. You can resume…whatever this is—after dinner."
They both acquiesce as Remus asks, taking their seats and smothering the last wisps of laughter.
And it's—such a wholesome, easy dinner, such happy and warm energy despite everything happening in the world at the moment.
Tonks is telling some story that has Percy blushing and Andy and Sirius grinning, and Harry catches Hermione's eye—they both shake their heads in disbelief, that this is their life.
(That this is their family.)
Remus clears his throat. "I've a bit of an announcement for you all—well, I suspect Tonks and Percy already know, being that they work at the ministry, but I've been waiting until it was official to tell the rest of you infidels."
Hermione crosses her arms, leaning close to Harry in trepidation. "On a scale of the chamber of secrets being opened to Voldemort returning, how bad is it?"
"Neither, it—this is good news." He sighs when both Harry and Hermione stare at him with narrowed eyes, disbelieving. "Honestly, you two, it's possible for good things to happen."
"Debatable."
"Not helping, Pads."
"Sorry, love."
Remus brushes back a lock of hair that's flopped into his face. "As you know, there are a few vacancies at Hogwarts. I reapplied to be professor for Defense, of course; however, given the events that have taken place at Hogwarts over the last few years, the Minister felt it…pertinent for such a potentially dangerous course to be taught by someone Ministry approved—"
"A Ministry plant to make sure students aren't informed about what's happening in the world, you mean," Hermione grumbles.
"Bet it's the curse," Harry whispers. "If he got Defense again he'd have had it for more than a year."
"—and SO that position," Remus continues, narrowing his eyes at them, "has been given to a 'trustworthy' member of the Wizengamont."
"Moony my love you said this was good news."
"It is, if the three of you would be quiet long enough to let me finish."
Tonks grins. "You're such a dad, Remus."
The werewolf rubs at his temples with a sigh. "Dumbledore was insistent that I rejoin the staff, however, especially given last year's events, and suggested that—"
"If it's something Dumbledore wanted, shouldn't we do the opposite?" Harry questions.
"True," Sirius snorts, holding out a fist for Harry to bump.
"Charms, you ingrates!" Remus practically yells. "I'm going to be taking over charms." He downs his class of wine after making the declaration amidst the gasps of delight.
"Oh, Remus, that's brilliant!" Hermione congratulates, a genuine smile on her face. "I've been so worried about not learning as much from Flitwick's replacement—he was one of the most accomplished wizards I've ever met, and one of the best teachers we've had, may he rest in peace—but you'll do a fantastic job"
"Thank you, Hermione."
Harry stands to hug him, face full of relief, hesitating before quietly saying. "I—I think I'll actually be able to breathe, this year."
(Feel safe in his own school, knowing someone who loves him is looking out, rather than just an old man who keeps using him as a means to an end.)
"That's brilliant, love." Sirius beams. "Just think of how much I can bother Minnie coming to visit you."
Remus sighs yet again, palm to his face. "I'll be fired before I've even started."
Draco has a brief bit of respite, so ink is blooming all along Hermione's skin, and she keeps turning away from the tablet to respond to him—which, given the circumstances, they're all understanding of.
Sirius grins when he catches her smiling down at her wrist, stroking the familiar handwriting. "Loverboy doing alright then, kitten?"
She blushes a the table's attention turns to her, everyone but Percy knowing the identity of her soul mate. "Yeah. L—his father is out today, so he's free to talk for a bit."
Andy winks at Ted. "Forbidden young love—doesn't it make you miss when we were young?"
"Yes, the good old days when your family was actively trying to kill me and crucio you. Why on earth wouldn't I miss that?"
"Not all of my family—you know Cissa has always been supportive And you know it was exciting even though it was terrible, Teddy, don't even deny it. That's when we fell in love. When we found out Dora was on the way."
Harry groans, putting his face onto the table dramatically. "You're all in love and I'm alone, I get it."
Hermione snorts at the theatrics, and Sirius makes a face but puts a hand on his godson's shoulder. "You never do talk about your soul mate, pup. What's the deal there?"
A tiny smile graces Harry's face, blush alighting his cheeks. "It's a girl. She—we don't talk a ton, but regularly. She's really cool. And a witch, but—we haven't met yet; she has a lot of belief in…destiny, or whatever, so she doesn't want to arrange to meet or anything, says it'll happen whenever it's supposed to."
"Of course she believes in divination nonsense," Hermione grumbles, but something about the phrasing of it all feels familiar.
(Something deep down says she's heard it before.)
"Not that I really have time for a girlfriend, what with all the attempts on my life and stopping murderers at Hogwarts, and all, so maybe it's for the best."
The whole table groans at the reminder; Tonks flicks a spoonful of mashed potatoes at him, and it all descends into happy chaos.
(Some of the last they'll have of it for a while.)
/
/
Hermione returns from her parents' for what they've allowed to be the last time for the summer—she's dissociative and numb, but almost feels like she can breathe, knowing she won't have to go back till Christmas at the earliest.
(And she's sixteen soon—just one more year, and then never again.)
Remus and Tonks are at work, so Harry, Hermione, and Sirius are at Grimmauld Place, slowly working through the upstairs rooms, gradually getting rid of the dirt and doxies and hexes.
She and Harry run downstairs to grab sandwiches and snacks for the three of them; it takes ten minutes, but on their way back up they can hear Sirius sobbing.
They break into a run, worried something's hurt him, only to find him in the drawing room, collapsed on the floor, his entire body convulsing with pain.
"Sirius, what—"
"Mia, look," Harry whispers, pointing to the other side of the room; a pale body that looks like his is lying still on the floor, a trickle of blood flowing outward.
(clearly dead.)
And standing above him, another person that looks like him, except older, and—
(His eyes are hazel.)
"How could you, Sirius?! You were supposed to protect him! You let him die just like you let me and Lily die—it's all your fault!"
Sirius's fists are clenched so tightly the knuckles are snow white, fingers tightly gripping a feather duster and a locket he'd seemingly pulled from the cupboard he's keeled over in front of.
"What the hell," Hermione breathes, stepping forward. "Sirius, this can't be real, please—"
But as she steps forward, it recognizes her instead; James and Harry's corpse disappear, replaced by a familiar door, the knob quietly turning—
(she knows this all too well.)
The door opens, and she's frozen—
(she's always frozen)
—and he walks through, and he's smiling, that smile that makes her sick—
And there's no way it's really him, she's in the magical world, her logical brain knows he can't possibly be here, wasn't here just a moment ago—
(—but it looks like him and he's moving towards her and it's happened a million times before so why wouldn't it happen now—)
"There's my good girl," he says, and she's curling inward and she can't breathe—
(she thought she was safe here, but she should know better—she's never been safe)
Far away she hears Harry say "Riddikulus!" and she knows that means something but she can't think about it, can't think about anything, can't breathe and everything hurts—
"You're okay, Mia. He's not here. Just breathe—he's gone, you're okay, I'm here."
(Harry—Harry's voice.)
She opens her eyes, and Harry's there, and there's nothing but them and Sirius and a pile of dust in the room.
A/N: hello all! All my love your way, as always.
*title from Come Around by Papa Roach
So thing are HAPPENING—more of this/talking/healing to come soon. Next chapter in the next few days.
I really intended all of summer to be one chapter and somehow it's become three? Who am i
If you're bored I just posted a Jily one-shot I'd love to hear your thoughts on—it's sad fluff set at the beginning of the war, if you're in the mood for that. Will likely become a two- or three-shot—who knows.
Thank you for all of the fic recs you've sent—I'm really enjoying the ones I've checked out so far! Feel free to keep them coming.
much love. take care of yourselves. xo
