TW at end of chapter

October 1977

With Sirius gone, Hermione was left on the bed stunned. Curling in on herself while she rebuttoned her shirt as tears threatened to fall, she was so overwhelmed. Panic coursing through her, the likes of which she hadn't felt since after that fateful Full Moon.

She was still coming down from the high Sirius had worked her to; she didn't know how to react. Part of her wanted to be furious at Sirius' refusal to listen to her, to accept that everything was fine.

She'd felt plenty of his own scars while exploring beneath his clothing and had never asked about them because she knew it wasn't her place. Although, Hermione supposed she at least had an idea of where they came from, so she'd never needed to ask. Not wanting to force him to relive that part of his life.

Another part of her wasn't even thinking about his reaction to her but of the inevitable fallout of their argument. Everything she'd been worried about, every reason she'd fought against starting a relationship with him coming to life like something out of her nightmares.

Only Hermione knew that wasn't true because while her nights were restless, her brain had far too many memories to choose from to have to create something like this to terrify her.

Which meant it was actually happening.

That she was stuck thinking about how much worse this was than anything that had happened with Kingsley and how she couldn't escape it in the same way she could with him.

Couldn't just avoid him altogether because Sirius was as much a part of Remus' life as her brother was hers. And no matter how difficult the following weeks would be — awkward, painful and uncomfortable — Hermione was determined not to let it affect Remus — instead, requiring her to come up with some other excuse as to why things had ended between them.

One that her brother would believe and wouldn't make him think he had to abandon his friends because no matter how much it wasn't what Hermione wanted, she knew Remus' first thought would be to try and protect her from the hurt.

The same way it was hers and how spectacularly she had failed at that task. Knowing she was the reason he'd try and cut himself off from his friends, deprive himself of their support for her benefit. Because of something stupid she'd done. Acting on desires, she should have known to ignore.

Her thoughts spiralling ever faster, Hermione could feel her breath coming out in panicked huffs and desperately tried to escape. Needing to get out of this room where catastrophe had struck, and where she could still see the sheets ruffled where they'd lain on them, and that damn copy of The Shining left on the loveseat they'd enjoyed so much time on.

The entire room felt like too much. Making her panic increase as she was reminded of all the mistakes she'd made. It felt like the walls were closing in on her. Like the room had changed from providing whatever she needed to whatever it could to make her brain cloud with fear and panic.

Blurring her vision and making her breathing erratic, Hermione knew she had to get out. Not even taking the time to put on her shoes, she instead, ran through the hallways carrying them in a haze of anxiety. Not feeling the chill of the castle — stone floors and walls cold in the October air — she was numb to it all.

She didn't know what time it was, but it was dark out. The sky pitch black and without moon, reflecting the way darkness had rapidly fallen over her being and how it was playing at the edges of her vision. Threatening to overwhelm her completely.

She didn't remember climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. Only knowing that she still had to get out, needed to feel the cold air on her skin to remind her of her place in her body, to shock her out of the spiralling hole she'd fallen into.

Slumped on the bench, she should have felt the cold but was only slowly regaining control of her limbs. Instead, tucking her still bare feet beneath her and breathing in the fresh air.

Eventually, the panic coursing through her calmed and left her exhausted. Still slumped against the bench that ran around the edge of the tower, she looked at the sky and found him easily. Resting among Canis Major, twinkling down at her, yet another reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

It was easier to think out here, though. Without the oppressive air of the Room, the night air cleared her mind. Let her think things over rationally.

Sirius had at least agreed to keep her secrets. Even if he wasn't thrilled about it, he wasn't going to run off to tell Remus about the suspicious scar on his sister's chest because Sirius was far too loyal to betray her like that.

And if she really thought about it, he hadn't reacted to her secrets as much as the scar itself. Initially far more concerned by the thought someone had hurt her. It was only when she couldn't explain that he'd been mad about it. Either way, she wasn't sure what he was thinking, but as angry as he'd been, he hadn't actually ended things with her. No matter how much it felt like he had, sitting alone on that bed.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, but Hermione knew it was well past curfew. She should have tried to escape when she first heard the footsteps approaching, but it wasn't as if there was anywhere to go at the top of the tower and truthfully, she was far too tired to care about whatever house points loss or detention she'd incur for being out too late.

The bone-deep exhaustion that had taken over her body coming down from its panicked state, forcing her to accept whatever fate was upon her. So, she stayed seated and looked up at his star and thought about how she would try and fix everything.

It wasn't until she heard the footsteps stop that she turned to see who had caught her, breathing out a surprised "Sirius" when she spotted him standing in the entrance.

Not sure what to do, they both just stared at each other for a few seconds — silently taking each other in. Hermione curled up against the night air, and Sirius looking back at her with an expression she didn't understand.

Not sure why he'd come but not wanting to intrude on his privacy, she spoke quietly, "Sorry, I'll go."

She tried to leave him, but his voice stopped her, "No, Hermione. I came here to find you."

"What?"

"I wanted to find you," he repeated, "to talk."

"Oh," Hermione sighed softly, still not quite understanding why he was there.

"I shouldn't have stormed out like that. I should have listened to you, but the idea someone would do that to you. Merlin, it made me angry."

"No one did anything to me," she tried to reassure him.

"Just seeing it, though. The idea that it would even be a possibility someone would consider hurting you like that. It made me see red. All I could think about was that I wanted them to pay, and then you wouldn't say who did it. I said I wouldn't pry, and I meant, just … fuck , I didn't know what else to do."

Hermione wasn't surprised Sirius' first instinct was to try and seek vengeance on anyone who dared try and harm his friends. It wasn't exactly a new trait for him, and despite how much she'd hoped he'd grown past his quick overreactions, she knew it wouldn't be an instantaneous change.

"I can take care of myself, Sirius," she said softly.

"I know."

"I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles."

"I know that. I do; I just … forgot for a moment."

Sighing, she accepted that it was the truth. Knowing most of his reaction was likely due to the sight of the scar and the memories it brought up for him, rather than her own reaction to it, "Then I need you to trust me when I say everything's fine."

"I do! That's why I'm here. I know you can take care of yourself, and I know you'd tell me if you could. Just, please promise me if someone does something or you need help, you'll ask. I think it might kill me if something happened to you, Kitten."

"I'll try," she admitted sadly. Knowing it wasn't the answer he was looking for but not willing to give him any more than that.

The truth was Hermione was in constant danger if anyone found out what she knew or what she planned, but none of those were things she could explain to him, so a lie was the best she could do.

He nodded in resigned acceptance at her answer, "We okay?"

Glancing away from him awkwardly, she wanted to say yes. To put the whole thing behind them but Hermione also knew there was more they needed to discuss.

"Yeah – but please don't just leave like that again. Talk to me, and I'll try and explain as best I can, but please don't just storm off."

"I won't. I regretted it pretty much as soon as I left. I know there are things you can't tell me, I'm okay with it, I am. Hell, there are probably things I won't tell you either. I just didn't know if you'd want to see me that soon after. Wasn't until I saw you sitting up here that I came to find you."

For a moment, Hermione was confused as to what he meant. How he'd seen her sitting there without climbing up the tower himself but suddenly remembered the hours Harry had spent watching Ginny's dot on the Marauders' map and found herself smiling softly at the idea Sirius had hunted her down in the same way.

"Okay, we're good," she accepted, letting him draw her into his arms. Before she could get too comfortable, though, he cried out,

"Fuck, you're freezing," glancing down at her, seemingly only just realising she was only in her blouse and skirt.

Pulling off his jumper, Hermione's vision was momentarily blocked before she was wrapped in its warmth, the familiar scent of him surrounding her.

"Where are your shoes?" he asked incredulously, looking down at her slightly blue toes.

"I don't know," she admitted. Remembering taking them from the room with her but assuming she'd lost them somewhere in the castle.

"What?"

"I was a little out of it when I came up here. I didn't realise I wasn't wearing them." He made a pained sound at her confession and pulled her back into his chest. Rubbing his hands up and down her arms like he was trying to work warmth back into her.

"I'm sorry – I should have stayed."

"It's okay," she reassured, "I was just panicking a little." The words were muffled where her face was pressed into his chest, but he heard them anyway, and she felt him go stiff at her words.

"I meant what I said. I could never hate you, I swear."

Reassured by his words and almost overwhelmed by the warmth of his arms wrapped around her, almost burning against her chilled skin, Hermione thought she might have kissed him were she not so tired.

That she may have given into more carnal urges and pressed her lips against his hoping to return to their previous activities, but she was so tired, she slumped into his chest and just let herself be held for a minute.

She knew they should leave. That they'd both be freezing soon enough and that they could get caught out of bed any moment, but she wasn't quite ready to be parted from him yet either.

Not when she'd spent the better part of the evening thinking she'd never get to feel his arms wrapped around her again, so she mumbled a question into his chest.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" It was quiet, almost afraid of what he may say, and she felt his hands stop their movements along her spine which immediately put her on edge.

"What?" he asked, and Hermione felt her face heat at the question. Trying to pull away from him to hide herself, he kept her trapped in her arms and instead continued, "No, wait. I was just surprised. Of course, you can stay. Though I don't know how Moony may feel about it."

"We could go back to the Room," she offered. More focused on not being alone after the panic-filled evening, she suspected would lead to a sleepless night than her brother's concerns over where Sirius was sleeping.

"Yeah," he agreed, keeping an arm around her and pulling her towards the door, "Let's go to the Room."

Hermione woke to the lazy strokes of Sirius' hand running up and down her back. Surrounded by warmth and the comforting scent of him, it was a position she thought she could get used to. Pressing her face into his bare chest, she smiled against the smooth skin as his fingers stopped their motions to play with the ends of her hair.

Walking back to the Room, they had both been quiet. Ducking into an alcove to avoid an irritated-looking Filch, but otherwise undisturbed, until they reached the seventh floor. Not quite ready to face Sirius' bedroom again, she'd requested her own room at Potter Manor, taking in the pale blue drapes surrounding her bed and feeling the remaining tension drain out of her — somehow exhausting her even more than she already was.

In comfortable silence, they readied themselves for bed. Not quiet from discomfort but because of a familiarity that probably shouldn't have been there this early in their relationship but that neither of them could deny.

Built on years of friendship and months of working together in secret, they had only grown closer as they mourned the Potters' death together — all of it making up the intimacy in their relationship that time did not provide.

The only moment of awkwardness had been over pyjamas — the Room for once not providing something the user needed. Instead, acting on subconscious desires. Hermione had shed her blouse and skirt, climbing under the covers in only Sirius' surprisingly soft jumper and her knickers. While Sirius — never one for modesty — had stripped down to his boxers, letting Hermione press herself against his naked torso.

They'd both been too tired to continue their plans from earlier in the evening and instead had drifted off to sleep soon after creeping under the covers. Talking quietly until sleep overcame them. Hermione reassuring Sirius that everything fine, that she was in no danger, and the scar really meant nothing. Sirius, hearing her out, apologising again for his reaction.

It was calm and peaceful and somehow right. Even Sirius' startled reaction to her cold toes pressing against his shin had only resulted in a soft laugh from them both before they'd both fallen back into that same comfortable silence.

Waking in this warm cocoon, looking out to see the sun peeking over the forest, Hermione felt better rested than she had in days. The comfort of having someone with her having starved off any unpleasant memories that may have resurfaced after their panic-filled evening.

Last night — exhausted and freezing — she hadn't been interested in exploring where the evening was supposed to have taken them. But now, reassured by their conversation and the idea things weren't doomed to fall apart at their first argument, Hermione felt her previous caution leave her.

Instead, she was focused on the feel of his skin under her fingers where they were pressed against his chest. Her mind centred on the very promising direction the night had been heading.

His inky, whisky-like scent and feel of being pressed against him, reigniting her desire and clouding her mind. Hermione let her fingers move where they were lying against him, nails grazing lightly against his nipple while pressing a kiss to the warm skin beneath her.

Feeling his fingers stop their teasing motions in her hair, his gravelly voice broke the silence, "Kitten."

Not quite a warning, it held the promise of more, and Hermione felt her lips curve up where her face was still pressed against his chest.

"Good morning," she replied softly. Letting her fingers continue their light scratching motions while shifting to press her lips against the hollow of his throat and along the curve of his neck.

"What are you doing," he asked, slightly breathless, and Hermione felt the hardness she hadn't yet that morning press against her. Showing her exactly how much her attentions were affecting him.

"Continuing where we left off?" she replied hopefully. Before gasping in shock as he flipped them easily. Pressing her back into the mattress and laying himself on top of her, their faces inches apart.

"Funny, I remember leaving off right about here," his voice was still low and deep with sleep, and something in his tone made the tension deep in her abdomen tighten.

Pressing his lips against her own, he took greedily. Sliding his leg back between hers while moving to hold her hands in one of his. The other, exploring down her body, all while he stole the gasps leaving her mouth.

Trailing a hand down her thigh, he hitched one of her legs up, pressing himself against her with only their underwear separating them.

Rolling her hips against him, trying desperately to find stimulation, she quietly moaned, "Sirius," her voice breathless.

She felt his lips smile against her neck before he sat up to look at her. Making Hermione heat under his gaze, knowing she must have looked debauched.

Lips swollen from his kiss, arms still crossed above her head, her hair was spread out underneath her, and her legs nudged apart where he was knelt between them. Baring herself to him were it not for the covering of her knickers and the fact she still wore his jumper.

Blushing under his scrutiny, Sirius grinned heatedly down at her, trailing his hands up her thighs to toy with her hem.

Fingers playing with the fabric, brushing against the small strip of her stomach that was exposed where it had ridden up, her muscles twitched under the light touches before he finally spoke, "I was going to enjoy undoing every one of your buttons last night."

His eyes were locked on hers, and Hermione found she couldn't look away, "Enjoy watching you tremble as I ran my lips over you and watching you turn that pretty pink colour."

As he spoke, he ran his hands over her body. Fingers trailing along her collarbones, between her breasts, along her waist. Brushing against her parts of her, he promised to explore — the touches and his words clouding her mind and making her ache for him to touch her skin rather than just tempt her through clothing.

She knew what colour he was talking about too. The flush that was undoubtedly warming her cheeks now. Brought about by the heat in his gaze and the fact one of his hands had strayed from her torso to rub along the join between her groin and her thigh. Not nearly close enough to where she actually wanted him but enough to make her shift needily.

Before she could gather herself to say anything, he continued, "The buttons may be gone, but I think we can improvise — don't you?"

As he said it, he finally brushed a thumb along her knickers, making her hiss a quiet, "Yes," as he finally touched her properly, even if it still wasn't enough.

Keeping a grip on her thigh, he rubbed circles through the lace while leaning down between her legs. Making her eyes widen in shock at the implication of what he was doing.

Feeling her tense, he dropped a kiss onto her inner knee, halting his strokes against her core, "Not yet, Kitten. I want to explore the rest of you first."

Letting out a sigh, she nodded. Unsure if she was disappointed or not, but suddenly focused on the fact Sirius was running his lips between her hip bones. Just above the edge of her knickers, they felt electric against her and made the skin tingle. Sending tremors through her, down to where his fingers were dipping below her knickers, running through her folds.

The brushes of his fingers against her only ignited her desire further. A precursor to what she needed , Hermione heard herself mewl, "Please."

A desperate plea for Sirius to do more, his fingers explored her entrance. Gathering wetness and teasing. A finger stroking into her before he added a second and making her whimper at the stretch — his hands so much larger than her own.

One hand exploring her cunt, the other trailed along her body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Momentarily gripping her hip to stop her from giving in to the desire to shift, to seek out the pleasure that was sure to come as soon as he touched her more directly.

All while, his lips continued to run across her abdomen. Nudging his jumper up ever higher until it was ruched up beneath her breasts while Sirius pressed hot kisses down her stomach.

Glancing at her briefly for confirmation, he nudged the fabric upwards before Hermione pulled it over her head. Desperate to free herself from its confines and expose more of herself to him. Wanting to feel his lips on every part of her that had remained hidden so far.

Abandoning the trail of kisses he was working down her abdomen, he brought his lips to hers. Breathing in her moans as his fingers curled inside of her, the palm of his hand grinding against her clit while she rolled her hips into the pressure.

Breaking his lips away from hers, he nibbled on her earlobe before running his mouth down her throat, grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh and making tremors run through her body.

Hermione's mind was hazy, thoughts only focused on Sirius' fingers moving within her, his lips pressing against her breast, and the way her breathing was growing increasingly uneven as she neared the edge.

Making her clutch the sheets under desperately as Sirius rubbed the pad of his thumb across her clit. Pressing his fingers against a point within her that made her legs quake desperately, something deep inside of her twisting and coiling in need.

Writhing beneath him, he circled his thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves while his teeth grazed across her nipple and the coil shattered. Her body trembling as she broke.

Walls tightening around his fingers, her body quaked beneath him while he stroked her until her legs were twitching from oversensitivity. Whining as she pulsated around his fingers.

Undone and breathless, she watched, entranced as he slipped his fingers out of her and brought the glistening digits up to his mouth.

Dark eyes looking down at her, he sucked them into his mouth. The wet pop echoing around them as he slowly pulled them out, the pink of this tongue flicking along his lip before he spoke.

"Next time, I'll taste you properly."

Hermione couldn't quite believe what she was about to do but knew it was her only option. That it was something she had been working towards for months now, and it had only been a matter of waiting until she was prepared to attempt it. No amount of time happily passed with Sirius, and the boys would ever truly distract her from what she had to do, after all.

Never mind that she and Sirius had thrown caution to the wind after that first argument. The same security she'd felt that morning in the Room of Requirement having never abated, they both abandoned their previous restraint.

Not only physically, though Hermione wouldn't deny that without their worries preventing them from exploring further, they'd both given over to the rasher parts of their personalities. Their whole relationship had shifted after that night, both of them slightly more confident in each other.

But, even with those distractions, Hermione knew what she had to do and hadn't let herself become too distracted — leaving Sirius to the other Marauders' while she and Pandora 'studied' until she had reached this point.

The Sword of Gryffindor would be useless, having never been imbued with venom, and even if it had been, there was no guarantee she could summon it. And, while she was fully prepared to die to defeat Tom Riddle, Hermione wasn't about to face off against a basilisk again. And, even if she were willing to risk unleashing one on the castle, she couldn't get into the Chamber of Secrets anyway.

Instead, she was left to find alternative methods to destroy the Horcruxes while simultaneously hunting them down. Only having narrowed down the Ring to the village of Little Hangleton with the help of the library's genealogy section. Purebloods proudly stating where their homes were located, confident enough in their wards they wouldn't be attacked.

Besides, Hermione had already had her suspicions about Little Hangleton before looking up the Gaunt's history. Knowing that Harry had been taken to the graveyard there during the Triwizard Tournament to revive Voldemort.

That particular reincarnation ritual being another thing she planned to make impossible – even if it took desecrating a grave to do so.

Still, while she knew how she was going to get most of the Horcruxes, she had no other method to destroy them beyond the reason she'd slipped into the forbidden forest in the safety of her animagus form.

Between the books Pandora had borrowed from her family library and those Hermione had taken from the Restricted Section with the aid of a disillusionment charm, she knew how to control fiendfyre.

That you had to push your intentions into the flames, something that both granted you control and almost guaranteed the loss of it.

She knew that the flames would at first feel euphoric to cast. Encouraging you to keep going, to produce more until you lost any control. At which point, the terror coursing through you would further fuel the flames – a perfect circle of destruction.

She knew all this. Had studied extensively and knew her occlumency shields would protect her from the overpowering emotions that caused the flames to grow out of control.

That she had spent weeks working with other forms of conjured fire. Practising controlling them and subduing them, but there was something different about casting the cursed flames.

She could still remember the terror she'd felt in the Room of Requirement. How quickly Crabbe had lost control. The heat as the flames grew, licking at their ankles while they escaped. The smell, not crisp or smoky like fire should be but poisoned somehow — sickly.

And most poignant of all, Crabbe's screams as he was consumed.

It all made her fear casting them, but Hermione knew she had no choice. She had no other way to get rid of the Horcruxes and was determined to destroy them and Harry's destiny long before it ever became his reason for being. So, she would master the flames for all their benefits.

Shoving her fears into a box and sealing in it the back of her mind, Hermione centred herself with deep breaths and the reminder she had to do this. That the contentment she found with Sirius and the rest of the Marauders wouldn't last if she didn't learn how to destroy the Horcruxes. And that if she didn't, her very existence would have been for nothing.

So, deep in the forest, under the light of a just full moon, when she could be sure the boys were all exhausted after a night of running around the woods, she took a breath and conjured the flames.

As they leapt forwards from her wand, Hermione could feel the euphoria pushing at her defences. Trying to test her, to get her to give in to its thrall and cast more. To lose any control, but she resisted.

Focusing instead on the shape in front of her as the flames took the form of Hungarian Horntail. Hungry and furious, it wanted to burn .

Filled with the same rage she was, it felt the all-consuming anger that Hermione sometimes thought would overwhelm her. Borne of her channelling her fury towards Riddle and his Horcruxes into something carefully controlled and productive, it swooped menacingly around the clearing she was standing in.

Like some demented Patronus, not a representation of the lighter parts of her soul. The parts that ran with the Marauders through the woods. The quick, little Arctic fox, everything pure about her – even if that was somehow tainted too.

No, this was a different creature entirely.

Representing the parts of herself, she kept hidden. Forged in flames as she was, the Horntail was the parts of her that were willing to learn the Dark Arts if it meant defeating them, and that would shoot twenty feet of flame at anyone who dared harm those they loved.

Something she did in her own way. Thinking of Snape's pale, afraid face when she warned him of his fate and the fear in Umbridge's eyes as she was dragged into these very woods.

The way she'd all but set herself ablaze to give her friends a second chance, and how she'd do it again if she had to. Even knowing that the fates wouldn't grant her a third chance. The Black's ritual book had been quite clear about that — along with its other warnings.

So, she focused on the replicas of the Horcruxes she'd transfigured and watched as they were consumed. Trying to imagine how they'd scream when they were the real thing but knowing nothing would ever come close.

And as the last of the cup was destroyed, she focused on smothering the flames. On depriving the Horntail of oxygen until it withered away into nothing. No longer needed, she subdued that representation like the darker parts of herself. Hidden away in the depths of her soul.

Then, with the last ember dead, she allowed a dark smile to cross her face. Knowing she'd just accomplished the first step to defeating the Dark Lord.

TW: Explicit Sexual Content and description of symtoms like a panic attack.