AN: Another kind of short chapter, I'm sorry. I wish I could say quality over quantity but I still suck at proof reading :/ I hope you guys enjoy it anyway, I'm trying my best not to let y'all down; your support has been overwhelming and amazing. Almost 80 followers already? Consider me thoroughly shookith! If you see mistakes let me know and I'll do my best to fix them. Oh, and I know Hermione's birthday is September 19th, but I changed it because August 22nd is international be an angel day, and Hermione is Harry's angel in my head.

Chapter 3: Harry's Birthday, Sirius' Near Funeral

Hermione caressed the parchment with her left index finger and pressed into the soft smile on her lips with her right hand, as if trying to seal the imprint of it tactually into her memory. This was a special kind of smile, one she wanted to cherish in her retention of, because it was a smile bourn of admiration. Admiration for one's self, and this was not a feeling she could admit to often, but in this moment, she felt truly beautiful for the first time in her life.

The thick parchment held an image, a drawing in the likeness of her and the warmth and brightness of her visage made her wonder if that's truly how the talented kitchen mudblood, just a few years older then herself saw her. Crystal had never really been a friend to her, she would lift her nose in derision whenever she would walk by and call her a mudblood whore when she seemed to be favored in any way by Draco Malfoy. He seemed to have an odd fixation with her that involved just as much spewed venom as it did slight allowances to read or have rations of his candy. Candy that she always gave to the younger mudbloods anyway, and got beat for doing so. Being favored did more harm then good really, yet it still inspired jealousy. In Crystal at least. Yet, even with her perceived hatred, she still made an image of Hermione that shined with more beauty and vivacity then she ever thought possible for one person to contain.

She'd gone to Crystal, despite heavy trepidation, to conscript a picture from her. It was Harry Potter's fifteenth birthday this Monday, and she wanted something to give him. She owned nothing, and had no means to change that aside from stealing, which was a low she refused ever to stoop to, so she went to Crystal. She needed something light, so Pip could carry it, but meaningful. And they do say a picture is worth a thousand words. Crystal had made her seem so beautiful she was almost afraid to send it now; surely seeing her in the harsh light of day after looking at such a picture would be a disappointment to Harry. But then she remembered that he would never actually see her and she mustered the courage to write the letter to go along with it.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I know I usually send these at night, and on Wednesdays, but I wanted you to be able to wake up to my well wishes first thing. Your fifteen now, two years away from being an of age wizard! I've been writing you for just under four years now, considering I started when we were both eleven. Did I ever tell you? We'd have been in the same year in Hogwarts, I just barely would've made the cutoff, being born a few weeks after you on august twenty-second, but we would've been together. I like to think we would have been sorted into the same house and wound up the best of friends if things had been different. Anyway, for almost four years writing you has been the highlight of my weeks, and thus it is only appropriate that I give you something in return. I've honestly been quite remiss and neglectful for not gifting you something sooner, this is your third birthday since I have taken you into my correspondence!

My gift isn't much, as I don't have much to give, but I hope you'll like it just the same. Honestly, I felt quite conceited when I decided to give it to you; it's a picture of me you see, and it feels sort of wrong to call myself a gift, but I thought after all this time you might be curious what I look like. I know I'm extremely curious about you. I still hope never to see you for your own sake, but I would be lying if I said I didn't wonder and wish for things to be different. Sorry, that sounds so melancholic, it is your birthday after all, so I shouldn't be forlorn. I wish I could bake you a cake, but even if I didn't fear getting caught, Pip would never be able to carry it.

Miss Susanne, she's the head of the kitchens, taught me how to make this rich, decadent chocolate cake that I know you'd love. Everyone loves chocolate, if someone said they didn't I'd be concerned that they may be a soulless demon. I really love cooking and baking, baking especially, because it reminds me of what I think potion making might be like based off the books I've read. I think I'd like to cook for you, you'd appreciate it I think, I love cooking for the people I care about; my mum always says that food made with love tastes better, but its kind of hard to cook with love for such abhorrent people like I always have to do. Though I was taught to love everyone and, although I lost them young, my parents most important lessons stuck with me so I manage.

Oh, I also wanted to mention that Pip is looking plumper recently, have you been giving him bacon after I expressly told you not to? I'd swear you were trying to fatten him up so you wouldn't have to hear from me anymore if I didn't know any better. If Pip puts on one more ounce, I swear to you I'll steal a wand and figure out a way to send you a hex in the next letter I write.

I hope you have chocolate cake and enjoy your birthday. I also really hope you like chocolate and aren't a soulless demon because I find myself quite irrevocably attached to you and that would suck.

All my love,

Hermione Granger

~o~O~o~

"If chocolate hating makes you a soulless demon, what does that make Remus?" Sirius joked as he hovered over Harry's shoulder.

"A nun," Harry quipped as he spun around to slap the back of his head and pierce him with a glare that said, 'quit nosing around in my personal life, mutt,' in retaliation of him reading his letter.

Sirius chortled, "we should get him one of those robes and hat thingies that they wear."

"I believe you mean a habit and a wimple," the werewolf said as he entered the kitchen where they had gathered. "Happy birthday pup," he smiled at Harry.

Harry hummed a noncommittal thank you as he continued to stare reverently at the picture in front of him, almost afraid to touch it.

Sirius snorted as he called Remus a "Smartarse." Because of course he would know what a nun's clothing was called, they were wizards for Merlin's sake, the magical didn't typically do Catholicism.

"She's beautiful Prongslet," Remus smiled as he watched the dazed young Potter stare at the image of his long-time written companion. He was so much like his father; he got that same look of a lovesick loon on his face whenever he thought of Hermione Granger as James did when he would tease a young Lily Evans. He was sure it would only get worse now that he had a pretty face to put to her name, the Potter men always seemed to find their true loves early in life.

Harry nodded in agreement as he ran his fingers gently over her likeness. "Her hair is so curly," he whispered with a serene smile as he envisioned tugging on them and watching them spring. "I always imagined it would be," he smiled in satisfaction.

"What do you want to do for your birthday Harry," Sirius asked as he went to stand beside his best friend.

"Train, Dumbledore said he would start teaching me some important details about Voldemort when I was old enough, well I say fifteen is old enough," Harry declared.

"Harry it's your BIRTHDAY, there has to be something you'd rather do then hurl spells back and forth with a geriatric wacko of a wizard as he tells you stories about the tragic childhood of a psychotic, murderous snake," his godfather rolled his eyes at the very thought of Harry's ideal birthday wishes.

"Of course, there is, but I can't go see Hermione, and I won't be able to until I can destroy Voldemort, so I'm going to meet Dumbledore and work towards that goal instead," Harry's countenance was resolute as he made this declaration.

"Harry…" Remus sighed, but he didn't know what to say.

"I know," Harry stated. "I know you don't like the idea of me facing him. I know that was never the goal, but you guys must also know that you're too meddlesome to stay away from a fight forever, and where you go, I follow. Hermione or no Hermione this fight has always been destined to happen, but because of her I will be ready, losing is not an option."

"That's utter shite Harry, none of us would ever go back if it wasn't for her. We got our revenge on the rat that got your parents killed and there's no one else that we really left behind. You're going for her and we're going for you," Sirius growled. "I honestly would hate the girl if she didn't have such a good head on her shoulders, even she knows you going back is complete nonsense, but you won't listen to reason because your prick is pointing you to the British Isles."

"DO NOT TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT," Harry practically roared. "You know that's not what its about with her, I never would've been able to convince you to let me go to Dumbledore if that's what this was about. If I wanted pussy, I'd go to a muggle town, just like you've always done and just like I've done since I was thirteen."

Remus gasped. "Oh, don't feign shock Moony, we all know you do it too. And I know you're the one who puts condoms in my room considering Sirius already taught me a wandless contraception spell that the muggles won't be able to detect."

Remus looked properly scolded as he seemed fascinated by a dust mote floating in the windows sunbeam, "It's still quite surprising, you're only fifteen."

"Well, it's not like there's anything better to do around here," Harry scoffed.

"We get it, we failed you as guardians and your only friend is a cute bird you've never even written back too," Sirius rolled his eyes. "We're all a bunch of pathetic sad sacks."

"No, your pathetic sad sacks, I'm a bitter fifteen-year-old whose life goal is to save a girl he's never met because he has attachment issues," Harry acknowledged.

"I think that epitomizes being a pathetic sad sack," Sirius argued.

"Well, in Harry's defense, I think it's probably pretty easy to become attached to a girl like Hermione," Remus declared.

"She is quite fit, if that's really her picture," Sirius agreed.

Harry clenched his fists and Remus roughly punched the animagus' arm, "I meant her personality. He's never seen a picture of her before today and she doesn't strike me as the type to lie, if she says that's a picture of her, then it is a picture of her, in the letters Harry's allowed us to see she comes across as very transparent and sweet."

"She's more than that," Harry proclaimed in a growl. "I think all the good that's left in the world can be found in her and I won't let Sirius taint that with his perversion," he snatched her portrait off the table and held it to his chest as if protecting something precious.

"Calm down Pup, I'm just messing with you," Sirius held his hands up placatingly. "We know you are genuine in caring for her, and that you don't want to fuck her." Remus nodded in encouragement. "Though I don't see why not," Sirius muttered in conclusion.

The glare Harry gave Sirius was like death, the harsh emerald green of his eyes pulsating like the fate-delivering smoke of an Avada Kedavra. He clambered up from the table and his chair smacked into the ground in his hurry to stop himself from actually killing his godfather. As he stormed out the door with a resounding slam, he could still hear Remus yell at Sirius in his place.

"You can't speak that way about a fourteen-year-old! Merlin, you're a lascivious scoundrel. He'll never let you near the girl now, you know?" The conversation faded from Harry's hearing as he made it further from the door, but he couldn't help but agree, when he finally sees Hermione Sirius and his disturbing libido were being kept far away from her. Preferably at least a few continents away, he thought as he climbed into the hammock in their back yard to nap, and hopefully dream of the beautiful face he finally had to put with his friend's name.

As Harry dozed Remus continued his argument inside, "He cares about her, dolt. So much he's willing to put himself at risk for her, and here you are making sick, perverted jokes at her expense. It's long past time you grow up Padfoot!"

"Well excuse me for trying to lighten the mood," Sirius fought back. "It's not my fault Harry doesn't realize he's wanted to lay her down and fill her with his stony-faced babies for at least the last two years. Godric, he's been more in love with Hermione before even seeing her then James ever was with Lily and I didn't even think that was possible."

"We know that, but Harry doesn't. He's had it rough and all he really knows is that he wants to protect her, and when you say shit like you have been you come across as a threat. Look at her, you know what the pureblood elite are like, to them she is a mudblood, property in their eyes, and though I doubt she'd ever mention it to anyone- especially Harry with all the sunshine and rainbows she tries to portray for him- she probably deals with the same types of comments from them every day. And she's young now but one day they won't just be comments, heck that day may have already come. Jokes like that about her are a violation, and the poor thing has already been violated enough, I will NOT stand for them," Remus was practically panting by the end of his rant.

"You think that they…" Sirius trailed off, and it wasn't like him to be at a loss for words.

"Think they what? Think they tell her how maybe one day her job will be to take their cocks in her pretty mudblood cunt? Think they grope her burgeoning tits as she serves them dinner? She works for Lucius Malfoy; she might even be on her knees under what's sure to be an obscene monstrosity of a desk as we speak, choking and crying on his prig as he postures his way through a business meeting like a proud peacock and his associates sit around waiting their turn," Remus snarled.

"That's fucked Remus, how could you even think like that," Sirius shuddered.

"That's rape, and that's reality," Remus declared with a depression-tinged anger. "Hermione's reality, if not now then soon. Her reality is torture, battery, degradation, and the fear that one day she'll catch the wrong man's eye and experience a whole new kind of slavery. Shit like what you just said only reminds Harry of that. It's knowledge that will kill him eventually, but not before he kills everyone whose ever so much as looked at Hermione sideways. Just watch your mouth Sirius, or you'll have him rushing off to Malfoy Manor long before he's ready for the world and Voldemort to know he's back and has never left."