Hi again! I know I left things a bit on a heavy note in the last chapter and I'm sorry. It hurt me to hurt Ron like that, and even I was mad at me. :(
Annnyyywwaaay, now you can read everything from Hermione's perspective to see what happened! I'm happy to say that some of you got it right (or at least partially right) so give yourselves a pat on the back!
Thank you to the lovelyspectacularamazingsweetkind ArrayofColours, BlueGreenAndPurple, & Cheesyficwriter for the beta!
oOo
Day 6-
Hermione's eyes opened slowly, the room dark around her. Since there were no windows to the outside she wasn't able to tell what time it was, but she had the feeling that it was sometime in the early morning hours. She knew that she would be needing to get up soon, as her mother and the Malfoys would be expecting her to join them for breakfast— the thought of doing so not a happy one.
Yawning, she stretched her arms above her head, letting out a gasp as the events of the night before came rushing back to her all at once. Her hands immediately went to the other side of the bed to feel for Ron, both relief and disappointment flooding her when she only felt cold sheets.
"Ron?" she called out, just in case he was still in the room even though she was fairly certain that he wasn't.
Hermione didn't hear a sound, confirming her suspicions, and she let out a sigh as she sat up to get out of bed. She was still naked as she made her way to the wall and fumbled for the lightswitch, flipping it on to find that she was undeniably alone, her eyes scanning the floor to see that all of Ron's clothes were gone, but noticed his portfolio still laying on top of the dresser where he had set it last night.
Hermione walked over and picked it up, hugging it to herself. Resisting the urge to open it and look inside, she bent down and put it on the floor under her bed where nobody would find it, planning to take it with her tomorrow when she made her escape.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was indeed early and she had almost half an hour before she had to face Draco and her mother. Catching her dishevelled appearance in the mirror, she figured that she had enough time to clean away any visible traces of her endeavours the night before — not that she would ever want to erase the imprint of it from her mind or heart, however.
Making her way to the bathroom, she started to draw herself a bath, her thoughts on the man that she had shared last night with— the man that she was in love with.
Ron hadn't said goodbye when he'd left, probably not wanting to wake her, but not for a second did Hermione believe that he had changed his mind about taking her away with him. In fact, she could imagine him currently talking to Harry, coming up with a plan to sneak her off of the ship with them unnoticed.
She smiled as she sank down into the now full bath, her body sore yet more relaxed than it'd been in a long time. With the certainty that Ron would share forever with her, Hermione was more content than she'd ever been. She had no idea what that future would hold, but the fact that it was with Ron made it so that she felt no hesitation— nothing except hope and excitement.
She replayed the night over and over in her mind, the memories making her body tingle in the best possible way. She'd always been taught that sex was only meant for two reasons— reproduction and a means to keep your husband happy— but now Hermione knew better. The love that she felt during every moment with Ron had been overwhelmingly perfect, and she couldn't imagine ever sharing herself like that with anyone but him.
Hermione soaked in the tub for a while, her mind coming up with all of the million different possibilities for her future. She could be a writer like she'd always dreamed, and live life day to day without having a strict schedule that determined her every action. Her life would no longer be under a microscope, and she would be able to speak her opinions and actually be listened to, especially by Ron. Although she had always imagined such scenarios, for once they were now actually within her reach.
Once it started nearing breakfast time, Hermione reluctantly stood up out of the bath. Right as she wrapped the towel around her body there was a knock on the door, and she walked over and unlocked it, letting the maid in to help her get dressed. She opted for a light blue dress, telling the maid to put her hair into a simple braid, not feeling like sitting and bothering with anything more.
When Hermione dismissed the maid and walked out to the living area, she saw Draco standing across from her mother on the sofa, both of them drinking coffee as they chatted. Draco sensed her presence and turned to her, his eyes sparking with something akin to anger.
Hermione froze in her tracks, chills running down her spine from the intensity of his look. It was as if he knew that she had spent her night with another man and was trying to wordlessly tell her.
She shook the thought away, not willing to imagine that he knew about her night with Ron as that would be disastrous. Trying to remain calm, Hermione gave him a small smile and continued walking over to the sofa where she sat down next to her mother, greeting both of them.
"Good morning," Draco replied, his unblinking eyes still steely as he stared at her. "I have something important I'd like to talk to you about, Hermione, and I'd like to do so before we head down to breakfast."
Hermione felt even more uneasy by the stiff tone of his voice, her heart now beating rapidly in her chest from the sound of it. She barely managed to give him a smile and a nod, even though she wanted nothing less than to be left alone with him.
"I'm going to my room to finish getting dressed, but when I come out, I'll be ready to talk," he spoke, eyeing Hermione's mother.
"Oh, don't worry, Draco!" her mother said in a cheerful voice. "Your parents should be here any moment and I'll head down to breakfast with them to give you and Hermione some privacy."
Draco gave her a smile— if it could even be called that— before turning around and heading to his room. Hermione was terrified, almost certain that he was holding in his anger until they were alone, positive that he was going to explode and hurt her again.
Once the door was closed behind him, Hermione turned to her mother, her voice quiet but frantic.
"Mother, please don't leave me alone with him! He looks like he's angry, and I'm sca—"
"Hermione, don't be ridiculous!" her mother hissed, her demeanor now completely different. "Draco is your fiance, and if he wants to talk to you, that is what will happen. He is soon to be your husband, and as such, your master, so you might as well get used to it."
"Master?" Hermione gasped, amazed that her mother could care so little and be so cruel.
The older woman gave her a hard look. "Yes, Hermione. Your master. Whatever that man asks of you, you will do it. After all of the strings I pulled to get you married into the Malfoy family, you are not going to ruin this for us."
Hermione stared at her mother, her mouth agape. All her life, she had wanted at least some semblance of a mother/daughter bond, but it had never been easy between the two women— even when Hermione had been a little girl.
There might have been times when they would laugh and have fun together, but those times were few and far between, and only happened when Hermione was 'on her best behavior'.
Realizing that she would have to face Draco's wrath alone, as that her mother was not going to give in, Hermione felt her eyes filling with tears and she turned her head away so the older woman wouldn't see them.
Even though she was one hundred percent sure of her plan to run away with Ron, Hermione had previously felt sadness at the prospect of abandoning her mother like that, no matter how fractured their relationship was. In that moment though, she felt the last string between them break, and Hermione knew that their relationship would never be able to be mended— even years down the road as she had secretly hoped.
Just then, the door to the suite opened and Hermione used the opportunity to discreetly wipe her eyes as her mother stood to greet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.
"Where is Draco?" Narcissa asked, her eyes scanning the living area.
"I'm here," Draco replied as he stepped out of his room while straightening his suit. "But I'm going to have a private word with Hermione before we head down to breakfast, so go on ahead and we will meet you there."
Hermione was silent and unmoving as the three then left, her body giving an unintentional jump as the door to the suite clicked closed.
"You know, Hermione," Draco said in a casual voice as he strolled towards her. "I was being the good guy. I gave you a warning— two in fact. I was nice enough to forgive you for your foolishness, but in the end it was all for naught because you still didn't listen."
Hermione's heart stopped in her chest, her blood freezing cold. "Wh—what do you mean?" she asked in a small voice, dreading his answer.
Draco gave her a malicious grin. "I mean, that when your ginger was caught sneaking out of our suite early this morning, you left me no choice but to give Zabini the order to toss him overboard— just as I said I would."
Hermione said nothing, his words not registering for several long seconds. When they finally did, she let out a piercing scream before jumping to her feet and running towards the door, desperate to go and find Ron to make sure that he was okay.
He had to be okay.
Draco was prepared though, and he leapt to the side, grabbing Hermione around her middle, pulling her to him. Hermione thrashed around, still screaming, hysterically clawing at him as she tried to get away. He finally had enough, and let out a loud noise of frustration before throwing her down to the floor, where she landed hard on her front before skidding several feet on the polished wood.
Before she could get back up again, Draco flipped her body around and threw himself on top of her, his weight holding her down and his hands pinning her wrists next to her head.
"Ron!" she cried, desperately trying to wriggle out from underneath Draco. "No! Ron! Let me go! You didn't! No! You're lying!"
Draco bent down so they were almost nose to nose. "He is dead, Hermione, and the only one to blame is you."
Hermione let out another shrill scream of Ron's name, and Draco sneered down at her. "Oh, he won't hear you from where he is now. Probably at the bottom of the ocean if the sea creatures haven't eaten his corpse yet."
"You monster!" she shrieked, still trying to get away from him, but it was useless.
"I warned you," he reminded her again, and Hermione finally ceased her struggling, her body breaking out into loud sobs underneath him.
She believed him— believed that he would murder without thought just to prove his point. Still, Hermione couldn't fathom that Ron was dead— couldn't believe that he was really gone.
"Don't worry, dear wife," Draco crooned in a mocking voice. "One day he will be just a memory, and it will be like he never even existed at all."
Through the excruciating pain that Hermione was feeling, a surge of anger flared. "I am not your wife! I will never marry you!" she screeched.
Her head snapped to the side as Draco delivered a stinging slap to her cheek, her eyes rolling back from the pain.
She screamed again as Draco's hand clamped over her mouth, his head leaning back down to hers.
"Make no mistake, Hermione, you are mine and I will be taking full advantage of that tonight, so you'd better be ready," he growled.
The door to the suite opened behind him, and Hermione watched as Zabini walked inside as if he'd been summoned. Draco stood up, leaving Hermione on the floor, straightening his suit as he stared down at her.
"I wanted you to see the evidence of your disobedience," he declared. "So I asked Zabini here to show you."
Zabini walked over and stared down at Hermione as she stared back, confused. Her eyes traveled down, and with horror, she saw both of his fists caked with dried blood. She let out an involuntary whimper, her head going to the side in order not to see the horrible sight.
"Oh yes," Zabini said in a low voice. "Your ginger gave me a bit of a fight— made my job harder than it had to be."
"No," Hermione moaned, not wanting to hear any more, her hands moving to her ears as if she could block out the words.
"Yes," Draco replied as he bent back down and wrenched her hands away from the sides of her head. "And I hope that this is a lesson that you won't soon forget. From now on, everytime you even think about defying me, you will remember that your actions have consequences."
"Ron," she whimpered as she curled up further into herself.
She heard Zabini walk into the small bathroom and wash his hands, staring blankly ahead as Draco started to pace in front of her. Once Zabini was done, he came back to stand at Draco's side.
"I'll go ahead and inform your mother that you don't feel well and that you will be late for breakfast. You have twenty minutes to sort yourself out, but then I expect you to join us and stay by my side for the remainder of the day."
Without another word, the two men exited the suite, closing the door behind them. Hermione burst into a fresh wave of tears, her heart feeling like it had been ripped from her chest.
She felt so lost, everything in her wanting to walk out onto the deck and throw herself into the sea— to die the same way that Ron had— but as she closed her eyes and imagined his handsome face she knew that she couldn't do it.
"Ron. My Ron. My Ron," she cried.
Allowing herself to feel the intensity of her pain for only minutes longer, Hermione commanded herself to calm down, knowing that she had to somehow formulate a plan. Ron would want her to fight, and fight she would.
She wouldn't let Draco win— she couldn't.
She would not marry him. She would never allow him to touch her as he had threatened. He'd killed Ron— and by doing so had also killed a part of her— but the other part of her needed to live. Hermione would not allow herself to be a prisoner, which was exactly what she would be if she married Draco.
Shaking, Hermione stood up and stumbled over to her bedroom, barely managing to open the door, her body weak with grief. Her eyes immediately went to the bed that she and Ron had shared the night before, and she had to fight the wave of nausea she felt at the loss of him.
Taking a shaky breath and straightening her back, Hermione pushed all her emotions away and walked over to her wardrobe, rummaging through it to find the most simple dress that she owned— a dark blue one. It was still more elegant than she would have preferred, but it was the best choice she had to not stand out.
Her movements stiff and numb, she got dressed, discarding the lighter dress onto the floor, not caring about wrinkling it or making a mess.
She would never see this place ever again.
Walking over to her small desk, she opened the single drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil before starting to write.
Mother,
I regret to inform you that by the time you read this, I will be dead. The fiance that you have so graciously selected for me has had the only man that I will ever love, killed. Unfortunately, this has left me with no alternative than to take this route, as I would much rather die, as my Ron has, than live a life married to someone so horrendously vile. Despite the loss of your only child, I hope that you can continue living the way you always have, and not be bothered by my burden any longer. I would tell you that I love you, but that would be a lie. I know that you have never particularly loved me either, but perhaps in another life, a more simple life, we could have gotten along better. As happy as this thought is, I guess it wasn't meant to be.
Your daughter,
Hermione
Hermione then turned the paper around to write on the back.
Draco Malfoy,
I hope you know how repulsive I find you, and I take comfort in the fact that you will never touch me in any way ever again. I hope every remaining day that you live is hell on earth, and that every night when you close your eyes, my face haunts your dreams.
Never yours,
Hermione
She left the note on the desk before giving one last look at the room— at the life that would no longer be hers. Her eyes drifted to the couch, and then again to the bed. If she closed her eyes she could almost see Ron lying down on it, giving her a lopsided grin.
She turned and walked out, her feet moving almost of their own accord. When she exited the suite, Zabini was in the hallway, his cold eyes staring across at her, making hate boil through her insides. This man had murdered the one person she truly cared about in the world with his bare hands, and she could hardly manage not to vomit just from the mere sight of him.
"Ready so soon?" he asked, his voice flat and uncaring.
Hermione took a deep breath. "I am."
"I am under orders not to allow you out of my sight, so I will be escorting you to the dining area."
Hermione nodded, fear gripping her as she realized that sneaking away wasn't going to be easy. The thought of sitting down for breakfast like normal, as if her entire being hadn't just been shattered, was laughable. However, she had no other choice but to start walking, Zabini following close behind her. They had almost made it to the dining area when Hermione spotted what would be her saving grace.
A bathroom.
She'd visited this particular bathroom several times before, which is how she knew that it had two separate entries, something that she hoped Zabini wasn't aware of.
"I need to use the bathroom," she said stiffly as she turned to Zabini, her tone indicating that she was not asking his permission. He eyed her several moments before nodding, clasping his hands in front of him and stepping back to wait.
Hermione made it inside, instantly walking across the long bathroom to the opposite door, exiting on a completely different area of the ship. She knew she didn't have much time before Zabini would get suspicious of her extended absence and start looking for her, but she hoped that she would be long gone before he did.
She kept a steady pace, making her way across the ship, walking fast but not running either, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Ignoring everyone and everything around her, her eyes remained downcast, thinking only about getting to the third class sleeping quarters. When she got to her destination, Hermione opened the door to Ron and Harry's room, slipping in to find it empty.
As she closed the door behind her, Hermione was no longer able to push away her grief, and she let out a sob as she stumbled over to Ron's bed and collapsed onto it, her chest heaving. Her ribs ached with the force of her cries, and she barely managed to move her head to the pillow, covering herself with the blankets that smelled like Ron. She pulled them over her head, inhaling his scent and longing for him with every fiber of her being, clutching at his pillow, trying to imagine that she was being embraced by him rather than just his blankets. She didn't know how she would be able to go the rest of her life without him, the loss and heartache completely gutting her.
A fresh wave of tears flooded down her cheeks as she remembered she had left Ron's portfolio under her bed. Hermione knew that she couldn't possibly go get it now, but she had wanted that last piece of him, and now even that was forever lost to her.
It wasn't very long before Hermione heard the door open, and she scooted back towards the wall, terrified that Zabini had found her after all. She let out the breath she'd been holding when she saw Harry's mop of black hair instead, her heart breaking when she realized she was going to have to tell him about Ron. Harry noticed that someone was there right away and he bent down to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Hermione? I've been wondering where you two have bloody been! Where's Ron?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but when she tried to speak, only a strangled sob escaped. Harry scrambled onto the bed with her, his eyes panicked as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Hermione, where is Ron? Where is he?!" he demanded, his voice hysterical.
Hermione just shook her head, and could see by the look on Harry's face that he already knew.
"No," he rasped out, his voice anguished. "How?" he said as he clutched at his hair, tears falling down his face.
Hermione closed her eyes. "Draco had him thrown overboard."
Harry let out a choking sob.
"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault!"
Harry's shoulders shook, his hands still tangled in his messy black hair. After a moment, he sat up and took her face in his hands, making it so that she was looking at him. "Hermione, Ron loved you. He wouldn't have stayed away, no matter the consequences. This isn't your fault— his blood is not on your hands."
Hermione clenched her eyes shut tight as a ripple of pain shot through her chest, remembering the blood that had been on Zabini's fists and she broke down again, not resisting when Harry pulled her into his arms. It wasn't the pair of arms that her heart ached for, but she found comfort in them nonetheless.
They held each other and cried, both of them hurting and taking comfort in one another— both of them broken. Harry tried to reassure her, but he didn't tell her that everything was going to be okay, because they both knew that it wasn't— not now that Ron was gone.
"Wait, why are you here? Won't they be looking for you?" Harry asked, the expression on his face as if it was the first time the thought had crossed his mind.
Hermione shook her head. "I left a note telling them that I threw myself into the sea. It was the only chance I had to escape. I need your help to get off, but once I am, we can go our separate ways."
"And you think they'll believe it?" he asked, sounding unsure. "That you really jumped?"
"I think so...I hope so," she admitted.
"Well, we need to make sure that they won't look for you." Hermione looked up to see determination on Harry's face. "Those fuckers killed Ron, and I refuse to allow them to get their hands on you ever again." He sighed. "And we aren't going to be going our separate ways, Hermione. Ron would—" his voice broke. "Ron would expect me to take care of you, and I fucking swear that I will."
Hermione could do nothing but nod.
"Listen— I just thought of something. I'm going to go across the hall, but I'll be right back, okay?" His voice was as if he were speaking to a small child, and Hermione could only nod again, too numb to even contemplate what he planned to do.
He laid her back down on the bed and covered her body with the blanket before getting up and walking out of the room, Hermione clinging onto the blanket for dear life. At the moment, nothing felt real, and everything seemed like a bad dream. Although she didn't feel cold, Hermione's body started to shake, her teeth chattering as she trembled.
Several minutes later, the door opened again and Harry stepped inside with Hannah, both of their faces red and distraught. Hermione could only stare blankly ahead at them as Hannah hesitantly walked over and bent down in front of her.
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry," the blonde said in a quiet voice. She rubbed Hermione's trembling shoulder, but Hermione could barely even feel the other woman's touch, all of her senses numb. "We'll take care of you, don't you worry. I'll make sure that there's no suspicion."
Harry cut in, telling Hermione that Hannah was going to go out onto the deck and make a scene. The goal was for her to act as if she had seen Hermione jump from the ship, therefore making it less likely anyone would search for her. Agreeing with the plan, Hermione gave them a quiet 'okay', having no energy to do anything else.
Once Hannah was gone, Harry lay back down next to Hermione and joined in her pain. Together, they continued to cry, although now in a calmer manner. Hermione had no semblance of time, but after a while, Neville walked into the room, his face ashen.
"They bought it, I'm sure of it," he assured them. "Hell even I started to believe it with the way Hannah was carrying on like she was. The cops took her somewhere to answer a few questions, but it shouldn't be too long before she's back." He paused. "I was so sorry to hear about Ron. I know I didn't know him very well, but he really was an excellent bloke."
"Thank you, Neville," Harry said in a quiet voice, Hermione unable to utter a words.
oOo
Day 7-
Harry set one of Hannah's dresses on Ron's bed next to where Hermione was sitting.
"Here. You'll wear this dress, along with this bonnet over your hair. I don't think anyone is looking for you, but it's better to be safe."
Hermione picked up the bonnet and stared at it. All of a sudden, she remembered the dress that she had left on Ron's bed the night they had danced, which felt like a lifetime ago.
"Harry, do you know where the dress is that I left here the other day?"
"Oh. Yeah," he answered, standing up to grab his backpack off of his bunk. He pulled out her dress, which was now folded into a neat little square, and handed it to her.
"You folded it?" she asked, looking up at him.
Harry shook his head. "No. Ron did."
Hermione's eyes filled up with tears, her fingers running over the fabric. She could picture Ron folding it with care, trying to make it into the neat square that she was now holding in her hands.
Her emotional pain was so great that it had transferred over to physical pain, her chest hurting so bad that she could hardly stand it.
Every second without Ron was agonizing.
"Harry? If it's not any trouble, could you go and get Hannah for me?" she asked, her words barely over a whisper.
At Harry's insistence on keeping her well-hidden, Hermione had yet to leave the room other than two bathroom trips, Harry hardly leaving either. Hannah and Neville had been so supportive, bringing them food (that mostly remained untouched) and checking on them every few hours.
"Yeah, of course. I'll be right back."
Harry left, and Hermione held the dress to her chest, taking in a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself. Harry was back in only a matter of seconds with Hannah, who rushed to Hermione's side, sitting next to her on the bed.
"Hermione, what is it you nee—"
"I want you to have this," Hermione cut her off, her hands shaking as she handed the folded dress to Hannah.
Hannah took it with hesitation, her eyes wide. "I— I can't take this."
Hermione shook her head. "You have done so much for me, Hannah, and I will never be able to repay you for it, but I want you to keep it as a small sign of my appreciation. Besides, I have no use for it anymore."
Hannah ran her fingers over the delicate material. "I don't feel as if I've done that much, but thank you so much, Hermione. I've never owned anything so beautiful in my entire life."
Hermione managed a small smile. "Make Neville take you out dancing somewhere fancy."
Hannah beamed, her eyes still on the dress, and Hermione tried not to think about the fact that Ron would never be able to take her out ever again, their first dance being their only. She pushed the thought aside. Right now, this wasn't about her and Ron, it was about Hannah and thanking her for all she had done.
The blonde pulled her in for a hug. "Once you find Harry's godfather, you must write to us. We will miss the both of you so much."
Hermione felt herself tearing up as she hugged the woman back, promising Hannah that she would.
"The ship will be docking in twenty minutes," Harry said as he walked back into the room.
Hermione wiped her eyes. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'll get dressed."
Harry gave her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No need to apologize, Hermione. I'll stay across the hall with Neville and be back in a bit. Take your time."
Both Harry and Hannah left, and Hermione was quick to get dressed, her stomach in knots. Once finished, she sat back down on the bed. The future that she had been so excited about just yesterday morning now felt forlorn and completely empty— daunting, even.
"Ron..." she whispered, lying back down onto his pillow. "I need you."
oOo
"Sorry, it's no feast, but it's the best I can do for now," Harry muttered as he handed Hermione half of a wrapped sandwich.
"It looks fine," she assured him. "I still don't have much of an appetite."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I know."
They ate together in silence on opposite ends of the bed, neither of them finishing the meager meal. They'd been staying in a little dingy motel room the last two nights after disembarking, both of them relieved at just how easy it had been to get off the ship unnoticed.
Harry had been out during the day trying to find the cheapest way to get to Virginia, and he'd informed her when he came in that the train would be best.
"Train leaves early tomorrow morning," Harry said in a dull voice.
As much as Hermione was hurting for herself, she was also hurting for Harry as well. He had loved Ron just as much as she had (although in a different way) and was feeling the same loss.
Ron had told her how excited Harry had been about the prospect of finding his long lost godfather, but now, after everything that had happened, he didn't seem excited at all. His eyes were dead and lacking any excitement.
"Okay," Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful for his benefit, but it came out just as unenthusiastic.
Her head snapped up when she heard Harry let out a sob.
"This is my fault," he cried. "I was so insistent on finding Sirius. If I hadn't been so selfish, we wouldn't have even been on the goddamn ship."
"Shhh," Hermione crooned as she crawled across the bed and wrapped her arms around him. "You know Ron wouldn't want you thinking like this."
Harry let out a choked laugh. He'd been saying the same things to Hermione whenever she would get hysterical and start blaming herself for Ron's death.
"Yeah, yeah," he sniffed, moving back to rest his head against the headboard. "It's just so hard not to, though."
Hermione sighed. "I know."
oOo
Just a little over a week later, Harry and Hermione were standing in front of a door to a large, dark gray house.
It had been easier than they had anticipated. Once making it to the small town, the second person Harry had inquired for information about Sirius Black had pointed them right to his house.
"I can't do it," Harry said, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.
"You can," Hermione encouraged.
"Why don't you do it?" he asked her, his face hopeful.
Hermione shook her head. "No. You've been waiting for this for so long, Harry. You need to be the one to knock."
Harry took a deep breath before closing his eyes, and without opening them, he lifted his fist and gave the door several hard taps.
The door opened half a minute later, revealing a man who appeared to be in his forties. He was handsome, with dark shoulder-length hair and friendly eyes that smiled at the pair of them.
"Hello. May I help you?"
Hermione looked at Harry, who was now quite pale and frozen like a statue.
"Sirius Black?" Hermione asked, knowing that Harry wasn't going to speak.
"Yes. That's me," Sirius said, now looking confused.
"This is—"
"Harry?" Sirius interrupted, his eyes now wide as he stared at Harry, who still hadn't moved. "James and Lily's Harry?"
Harry gave him a slight nod, and Sirius let out a loud cry of excitement before pulling the stunned younger man into a tight hug.
"You're home. You're home."