"Here I was hoping that he had holed up in his boyhood hidey-hole," Hermione heard her father's sigh.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open a crack, registering both her father and Lupin conversing by the side of her bed. She tried to connect the dots. The night had been so chaotic, so much had happened and she had trouble remembering it all. It came in flashes. Hearing the Fat Lady scream, leaping out the hole to meet Sirius Black, swinging a knife, that grazed her arm. Why did he only graze her? She followed him on to the school grounds, came across a Kellas cat and her kittens (she could talk to cats!) who pointed her in the direction of the Whomping Willow. Then...

"I have a message for Harry Potter..."

Hermione quickly closed her eyes before anyone could notice and listened to her father and Lupin for more information. There had to be something she could get from the two of them.

"Well, he used the passage through the Whomping Willow, so it was a good thought," Lupin sighed. "I told Dumbledore that Black had vacated, I don't see him returning to it as his hiding spot."

"And you didn't pursue him after that?" her father said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"I -erm-I Lost the scent, Severus," Lupin admitted. "Is she alright?"

"The wound on her arm wasn't deep," he explained. "Pomfrey didn't find anything else wrong with her. Thank God. But if I so much as catch a glimpse of that man's shadow-"

"I thought you said she wasn't hurt?" Lupin expressed uneasily.

"Do you want him to be absolved so badly?" he scoffed. "That monster stabbed my daughter. The man you thought you knew is either gone or never existed. It'll be easier once you admit it."

"Severus, I-"

"What are you hiding, Lupin?"

Hermione didn't have all the information she wanted yet, but she feared for Lupin, and she felt clarifying that her arm had only been grazed, that he hadn't aimed for her, it felt important. She slowly opened her eyes and shifted into a sitting position, cold and stiff, but she the pain in her arm was gone. She looked down to see the faintest hint of a scar on her right arm.

"Hermione," her father sat on the foot of her bed and cupped her face in his hands. "Are you unharmed?"

"I-erm-I think he only grazed my arm," she shrank under her father's intense gaze. "Not even sure he was aiming for me...I think I was just collateral damage."

"Your head?" he asked, gingerly touching her temples.

"I-erm-I think it's fine," she admitted, clasping her hands together. "I'm not sure why I fell unconscious, sir."

"Then you are fine?" he asked.

"About as can be expected, sir."

"You little idiot!" he cried, throwing his arms around her. "Have you any idea what that man is capable of? Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you care? Collateral damage?! Oh, you stupid, stupid little girl!"

Hermione wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to react to this. She was physically fine, but still shaken by the whole affair. All she knew was that she could have easily been killed and she wasn't. She couldn't remember why, she was still trying to weave the disparate parts of the night together. The message for Harry, the fact she was still alive. She needed time to collect her thoughts, to collect herself. And her father wasn't helping. She understood he was both relieved to see her alive and furious that she went after a known killer by herself. But it was too much. He hugged her tightly to him while calling her an idiot making her wish he could choose one until she were more present. Hermione didn't need him to remind her she was stupid, she already knew she was-though she supposed she deserved it. All she could do were dig her fingernails into the backs of her hands to keep from crying.

"I could kill you!" he hissed after kissing the top of her head and tightening his hold on her.

"You just might if you don't loosen your grip," Hermione choked.

"I doubt it," he sighed, but he did loosen his grip before resting a hand on her head.

"Hermione," Lupin approached carefully. "Do you think you feel up to answering a few questions?"

"I-erm-I can try," Hermione nodded.

Hermione told them everything she could recall about the night. She tried recalling everything, rehearsed each fact mentally thrice to ensure she got the order right. She saw her father's and Lupin's faces change expression with each new statement. Sympathy when she explained the struggle with Black, relief when she revealed she removed her dressing gown to blend in with the night, curiosity when she said she found him at the Whomping Willow (she left out the bit with the Kellas cat), and then confusion crossed with fear on Lupin's part and solemn anger on her father's part when she reached the end of her story.

"What was the message, Hermione?" Lupin asked.

"I-I-" she squeaked. What was the message? Was this all for nothing?

She played the night back to herself once again. There were big gaps, she couldn't conjure anything in those gaps no matter how hard she tried to remember. A sharp pain stabbed at her temple as she tried to recall it. A familiar pain...Suddenly the tears she'd been fighting back since she woke up flowed down her cheeks in a fury as she cried "That son of a bitch!"

"I've got you, love," her father put an arm around her shoulders and rest his palm on her head once more. She noticed despite the softness in his voice and touch that he clenched his jaw and sent an almost murderous glance at Lupin.

"What did he do?" Lupin paled.

"He erased my fucking memory," she seethed. "He heard you calling my name shortly after he said he had a message for Harry, h-he must-must have-why does everyone think it's okay to play with my mind like that?!"

A pregnant silence filled the room. Hermione didn't know what she expected from her outburst, she hadn't even meant to say those things aloud, but her father gently running his hand over her head rather than chastising her for her use of language allowed the silence to hang even heavier in the air. Hermione turned from one man to the other, both clenching their jaws in anger and knitting their brows in confusion.

"If you two have everything you need," Pomfrey approached the three of them with a vial of sleeping potion. "I think the girl could use some rest."

"The girl's already rested," Hermione protested. "The girl wants answers. Why did he erase my memories when I was supposed to deliver a message? And he did a sloppy job of it too! Professor Lupin, he was your best friend when you were boys, what did he want?"

"Hermione," Lupin sighed. "It's not so simple. Knowing who he was then and-he's-erm-I just don't know why he erased your memory or what message he expected you to deliver. I'm sorry."

"Perhaps we should leave you to rest," her father kissed her forehead.

"But-"

"I don't have any answers, Hermione," he sighed. "Just do as Madam Pomfrey says and we'll discuss everything in the morning."

"Yes, sir,"she sighed looking at her clasped hands. I will figure this out.

"Why did he do it?" Severus demanded after reporting to Dumbledore.

"Severus," Lupin backed away from him. "I don't know the contents of Sirius's mind. I don't-"

"Since she told us I keep thinking of his crueller inclinations," he said taping his lip."Unless his message to Potter was that he can interfere with anyone he wishes to, he was interrupted while you were bellowing out her name. I'm not even sure if I should be grateful you did," he choked, looking away. "Perhaps his message to Potter might have been her mutilated little body..."

He shuddered once again wishing he could simply go back to a time where his biggest concern was a stumble or a nightmare. How close had he come to losing her? Did Black know she was Potter's friend? Did he know that she was his daughter? Severus didn't know which piece of information was more dangerous if discovered by him. Either way, he knew Lupin was hiding something, and Severus was going to find out.

"I'm not a patient man, Lupin," Severus snapped. "Why'd he do it?"

"You've had an incredibly long night, Severus," Lupin sighed. "Maybe you should get some rest, too."

"Ho ho!" Severus scoffed. "You can't use that 'you're overwhelmed' deflection bullshit on me, Lupin! I've mastered it!"

Lupin sighed before running a hand through his greying temple and leaning against the wall. "Fine. Listen, Severus-"

What the hell is it with you Gryffindors asking an already listening audience to listen? Severus thought bitterly. How has Hermione not throttled Potter yet?

"I honestly don't know why Hermione had her memory erased-"

"Why Black erased her memory," Severus corrected. As if you of all people have the right to get indignant about that?! No, I modified Hermione's memory for her own protection!

Lupin sighed once more, making eye contact with him. "I don't know why Sirius erased Hermione's memory. I won't pretend I know everything. But I can honestly say I'm worried about you doing something stupid."

Severus looked into Lupin's pale green eyes only to discover that he was telling the truth. Lupin was legitimately concerned about Severus's welfare, and he wished he knew why. As boys, they had been complete arses to each other, and since Lupin's appointment, Severus knew he was being a bastard. It was easier than...

"Perhaps, you're right," Severus sighed. "It's been a long night, I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Severus," Lupin said.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I wish I knew what he erased...If I could just figure that out..."

"You're okay," Harry shrugged, poorly disguising his disappointment with a weak smile. "I want to know what his 'message' was too. But you're fine and I reckon that's what matters."

"I wonder what you found out though," Ron mused. "I mean, if it was so crucial that he decided not to leave you with the message. There has to be a way to recover the memories."

"I'm looking into it," Hermione sighed with a shrug closer her book. "Doing memory magic on yourself is really complicated, and it could-"

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, their heads pressed together, sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation. Maybe they were happy she was unharmed, but they knew as well as she did that it was all for naught if she didn't recall whatever she figured out. If Sirius Black could break into the school, he was very dangerous.

Harry was more than just Hermione's friend. She didn't like thinking of him that way, but she knew he was a hero to the world, a symbol for the good to rally around. Should Voldemort ever arise, Harry was the one to stop him. Harry was hope to those who cowered in their homes in a time before Hermione could remember. He was a good friend and kind, but those things mattered more. The world was a better place with him in it, and Hermione should have been willing to risk her memories to keep him alive.

"I'll keep looking," she promised. "I'm hoping whatever I recover will be his downfall."

"Just don't go after him again," Ron said. "You've read the old articles, right? All that was left of Pettigrew was a finger. All three of us should be in on this together."

Just a finger, Hermione mentally reviewed destructive dark magic. She read everything she could get her hands on about the the conflict between Black and Pettigrew back in September, but there was so the details in the articles were scarce. Something rubbed her the wrong way about the reports when she read them, and again when Ron mentioned it.

Among the corpses we found a single index finger, that was all that remained of the young man. Hermione bit her lip and tried to think of what they did with the bodies. Death speakers were so rarely used, and it seemed like an open and shut case at the time. But if Death Speakers were employed off record, they would have kept records. Maybe the hospital...It was a cold case, Hermione wondered what she might have access too if she wrote the morgue under Saint Mungo's.

Saint Mungo's... Another potential avenue for answers churned in Hermione's mind, but it was one she was hesitant to pursue.

"I'll look into methods and you lot will know what's up as soon as I do," Hermione promised before checking her watch. "But it's seven, I have detention with my father."

"Was the fifty points off our house not bad enough?" Ron grumbled. "Reckon he's got you toiling away until bloody June again?"

"I'm lucky it's only twice a week, remember first year?" Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "And just count yourself lucky you missed the lecture."

"Upset, was he?" Harry asked.

"Just enough to call me an idiot, threaten to pull me out of the Japanese program, and if he hadn't dropped my full name at least seven times, I'd be certain he'd changed it to 'young lady' or 'stupid little girl'," Hermione shrugged. "And yes, Ron, he's got me in detention until June."

"Alright, see you, Hermione Elizabeth," Harry teased.

"Don't forget 'Lilium'," she laughed.

"Wait," Harry narrowed his green eyes and knit his brow. "Like 'Lily'?"

"If one were possessed to only use the scientific term for it," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm just happy he didn't go with 'Asphodel' or some-"

Hermione re-examined Harry's face, perplexed as he titled his head to the side. He stared at her somewhere between confused and pained. Hermione forgot, that was his mum's name. Clearly, other girls were named 'Lily', and her father hated the Potters so much that she couldn't see the two being related...though her own Asphodel remark made her question it. No, you're just being an idiot, something you've been really good at lately. Stupid piece of shit...

But still, as someone who had nothing but questions about her own mother, she could see how the name could be confusing to Harry. She could see how it could raise a million questions he never knew he had.

"It's just my father's favourite flower, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I wish I had answers for you, really I do."

"It's fine," Harry sighed. "I was just-yeah, I reckon loads of girls are named Lily or some variant. It just confused me for a second is all."

"I'll stop by the library on my way back. Maybe I'll come up with some idea of what Sirius Black wanted."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I actually need to meet Oliver and the rest of the team for practice on the pitch."

"Still driving you like house elves?" Ron asked.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"It's an expression!" Ron groaned.

Hermione rolled her eyes recognizing a lost cause. "I have to go."

"Hi, Hermione!" a voice happily sang, hugging her from behind.

"L-Luna!" Hermione sputtered freeing herself and turning to see Luna's twinkling silver eyes.

"Sorry," she laughed nervously. "We haven't seen you since you went after Black. I just wanted to see you."

"We?" Hermione rose an eyebrow.

"We were worried," Deirdre admitted emerging from the shadows holding a bouquet of wild daisies and heather with Skylar and O'Malley in tow.

"I'm fine," Hermione forced a smile.

"You don't have to be," Skylar said, fiddling with their long black plait. "What you've been through can't have been easy."

Hermione shrugged knowing it could have been worse, but still clasping her hands to stop the shudder at the realisation that her memory had once again been messed with.

"I actually think it was amazing, sunshine," O'Malley assured her before speaking in broken Japanese. "If we can't write it, can you tell us next time you follow a serial killer!"

"Mass-murderer," Hermione corrected, also in Japanese.

The five of them had a system. Hermione taught them Japanese, and Skylar would teach them Welsh while O'Malley and Deirdre taught them Irish. Luna had the idea several meeting back, something Hermione until this point thought she had been devoting too little time to. Luna's idea was that if they had a few non-English languages to switch back and forth to, they could more freely talk about assignments for the Herald. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt knowing she had been neglecting that too. What was the last thing she investigated or wrote?

Actually I think I want to write on the route Sirius Black used to enter the school. That'd be useful.

Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe walked by at just that moment. Both staring at the four of them, Hermione wasn't sure if it were their disdain for Hermione, Luna or the likelihood that that they heard about Hermione's failed attempts to track down Sirius Black. Until Marietta Edgecombe 'whispered' and not quietly in Cho Chang's ear:

"What are they talking about, Cho?"

Cho snapped her head in Marietta's direction and narrowed her dark brown eyes at her friend. "They're speaking Japanese, Marietta. My mum's Korean and my dad's Chinese, why on earth would I know Japanese?"

"Calm down," Marietta rolled her eyes. "All I knew was that it was an Asian language. It sounds kind of Ch-"

"It does not," Cho said stiffly.

"Even if she could understand us," O'Malley challenged. "It still wouldn't be your business, Edgecombe."

"It's probably not even interesting anyway," Marietta snapped before flipping her strawberry-blonde curls.

The five of them watched them walk away, Cho silent and tense as Marietta uncomfortably tried to defend herself. Hermione's stomach churned. She hated the way Marietta's dismissal of Cho was so familiar to her. She didn't want the pretty, popular and athletic girl to be humanised in her eyes.

"Think they'll still be best friends in the morning?" Luna asked.

"They're best friends," Hermione sighed. "I think there's very little Marietta could do to change that."

"Speaking from experience are we?" O'Malley asked.

"O-Of course not!" Hermione forced a laugh. "It's-erm-just a -erm- hunch!"

Luna took Hermione's hand and smiled down at her before sighing. "Harry and Ron don't appreciate much of what you do for them, do they?"

Hermione bit her lip and took her hand back, fiddling with the red cord wound around her wrist. "I-erm-I'm running late to meet my father, and he's already pretty upset with me."

Deirdre sighed looking down at her bouquet. "We're glad you're okay."

"The lot of us are here," Skylar asserted. "If you need to talk."

"I'm fine," Hermione assured them.

"And so she arrives," Severus sighed.

"I assumed you wanted to meet in your office," Hermione gasped clutching a stitch in her chest.

"Catch your breath," he instructed placing a hand on her head. "Then I want to retrace what you can remember from when you left the tower. If you can."

Hermione, pale and exhausted, straightened her spine and combed the area with her eyes, still taking shallow, quick breaths. Between the purple rings under her brown eyes, her complexion and her hair being unkempt as well as bushy told him it wasn't just the rush to meet him on time nor the ordeal from the previous night that left her in this state. Of course, he knew that, she'd been burning the candle at both ends since September. Her ridiculous insistence to take all twelve classes was only the tip of the iceberg, he feared. There was the potential of a secret boyfriend he kept meaning to speak to her on, whatever nonsense she found herself involved in with that little paper of hers, and then there was whatever Potter and Weasley's latest scheme was. This happened very damn year. Didn't she ever learn?

What are you thinking? This is too much, too soon.

"Just so you understand," he said. "You don't have to walk me through if it's too much."

"I'm fine," Hermione straightened herself before combing the area once more. "I started at the base of tower-erm-obviously-" she walked toward Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione led him through the her path explaining what she remembered. Not differing at all from her story until she stopped at a large leafless oak, staring at it with apprehension. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. The girl was barely thirteen and she had been attacked twice by a man she was likely already afraid of. He rested his hand on her head and was about to speak when Hermione shook herself.

"I'm going to tell you something and I need you to believe me," she said. "I'm not mad."

"No one said you were mad, Hermione," he sighed.

Hermione bit her lip and averted her gaze before taking a deep breath and clasping her hands together. She opened her mouth once or twice before sounds escaped it. "I-erm-You see, I-erm-"

I see this might take a while...he thought as Hermione stumbled her way through words, mostly pronouns and muttering in Japanese under her breath before correcting herself. Severus wondered again if this was ill-thought-out when it finally appeared as if she might finish a sentence.

"I-I-erm-I-" she sighed, now staring at her feet. "I lost track of Black and tried to hide behind this tree. That's when a heard a voice- that's how I knew to go-"

A large ginger form emerged from the knot of the tree followed by a black form of the same size leaping forward with much greater force, leaping between Hermione and himself, causing her to lose balance.

"Chikusho!" Hermione exclaimed, regaining her balance.

The two forms took shape, one was Hermione's massive ginger cat-what did she name you again? No, you had a name, what was it?-and the other was the Kellas cat from the previous night. She looked much more hostile than Hermione's cat, her back arched and hackles raised, tale almost as bushy as the Maine Coon (Perhaps) beside her.

Hermione knelt before the stressed Kellas, holding her hands up while speaking with a soft, sing-song voice. To Severus's chagrin, she spoke to the cat in Japanese, meaning he had no idea what she was doing. He thought to grab his wand when the cat visibly calmed, staring at her. She slowly blinked her eyes before rubbing her giant head against Hermione's open palm. A peace had been reached.

It's strange how automatic that became...he thought wondering how a language she learned two years ago became her go-to for expletives and addressing animals. Was she so determined to confound him? Or my daughter's a-what do the student's call it-a weeb. Lovely... Though he would prefer that to her somehow remembering that her birth father spoke Japanese at times.

"So," Hermione sighed. "Erm, it was her that told me where to look for Black. I-erm-can sort of understand cats now-ever since-"

"You spent half a year as a cat-hybrid?" he asked putting it together. No wonder she was nervous.

He knew Animagi could communicate with animals similar to their animal form, so it made sense to him, but he could understand why she thought people would see her as mad.

"Yeah," she nodded in a small voice. "I think Black had a dog with him-I-erm-don't remember seeing him, but she mentioned them."

"I see."

Severus pondered this newest piece of information when three kittens stumbled out of the den. They were black with sapphire eyes and long black fur. They greeted Hermione with tiny mews rubbing up against her bent legs and hands. Hermione giggled one batted at a lock of her hair before she turned to her cat with wide eyes.

"You've been busy," she laughed.

Another kitten, much smaller than the others, tripped over its paws as it tried to leave the den to see the excitement. The runt of the litter differed from the other kittens, with a white star marked on the long black fur of its chest and a higher pitched mew. He wondered if the creature would survive long in the wild given its size and ungraceful gait.

"She's really quite nervous about her kittens," Hermione explained. "That's why she reacted to you hostilely last night and now. She doesn't trust humans."

"Fascinating," he said. "Now you said she told you about a dog? Did she describe it?"

"At least you don't think I've gone mad," Hermione sighed returning to her feet. I have no clue what they look like. I interpret words, but it's more like I'm getting ideas and images. So, a description worthy of a novel isn't something I feel will happen."

Hermione stood with a tired expression, her large brown eyes staring up at him in disappointment. He wasn't sure what he'd done this time to disappoint her, but he was torn between shrinking beneath his child's withering gaze and ignoring it. Severus knew dwelling on the past was useless, and couldn't help but do it. He remembered a time when she relied on him for literally everything, and now it seemed not a day passed that he didn't do something to earn that look.

"I wish I had something more, Dad," she shrugged turning back to the cats. "My friends are in danger and I-I-I have nothing useful. Not for you or anyone else. I'm sorry."

Not everything is about you, you stupid piece shit, Severus silently chided himself for thinking her behaviour was about him. She had been through...well, even if her story of the blade hitting her by mistake scanned, it was still traumatic. He recognized how terrible his idea truly was. Lupin followed Black back to the Shrieking Shack, and if he was to be believed, it was vacated. Even with the new information of a dog, it meant nothing. Hermione's memory was manipulated and the only other witness was a damn cat.

True, Severus loathed Sirius Black, and the idea of him finally getting what he deserved filled him with an admittedly perverse delight. Severus might finally know justice for the indignities he suffered at Black's hand, no matter how indirect. But no matter how much pain he endured, or how much he needed vengeance, it wasn't worth putting his little girl through any more of this. Perhaps it'd be different if she actually had something, but this was pointless and cruel.

"What are they saying?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Crookshanks is the kittens' father," she gently stroked the runt's little forehead. "They're both concerned about the little one. She's sick and much smaller than the others. Even part kneazle runts don't fair well in the wild."

Hermione's cat-Crookshanks- groomed the runt's eyes and curled up around it-her. The tiny black kitten nearly disappeared into his ginger fur, her sapphire eyes peaking out at the two of them while the Kellas cat ushered her healthy kittens back into the den. Crookshanks returned to grooming the tiny kitten, purring loudly.

"I don't think it works that way," Hermione said softly. "She's still young enough to need milk."

Crookshanks ignored, his attention completely fixed on the kitten curled up next to him, unwavering.

"He's promising to take care of her," Hermione explained.

Severus rested his hand on the top of Hermione's head and sighed. "I don't think I needed that translated, love."

Hermione leaned against his hand, her eyes still on the strange family of cats before them.

He couldn't help but think about Hermione when he first met her. Undersized for her age, sick and weak. What might have happened to her if he hadn't taken her in? The defenceless child was sick, weak and unsteady her before she was five, and even now he saw traces of her childhood illnesses. Maybe it was stupid to compare his child to the runt of a litter. Yet, the comparison was easy to make. Still, it was Hermione he cared about and she already was biting off more than she could chew.

"Your schedule is quite full as it is, and caring for a sick kitten would be-"

"Oh, no, I'm not volunteering, but..." she shrugged turning to face him. "I think I know exactly who could take care of her."