Chapter 13: Proof of Your Pain


"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one o' the pubs down in the village."
—Rubeus Hagrid, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling


I sat alone at the at the grimy bar of the Hog's Head Inn, picking nervously at the peeling label of my drink as I waited for Aberforth to finish serving a large party of Peruvian wizards who were apparently in town for the annual Magizoology symposium hosted by the Scamanders. The wizards were a rowdy bunch, and I could sense Aberforth growing testier by the second. I stared ahead to the wall of dusty liquor bottles behind the bar, consumed with thoughts of yesterday's strange encounter.

I still couldn't make any sense of Regulus Black.


His wand was out, levitating the heavy books from my makeshift wall back to their proper places on the shelves surrounding us. Dark eyes, so unlike his brother's, eyed me curiously once there were no more volumes separating us.

"So you're the new girl?" he asked without preamble as he leaned back lazily in his chair. His haughty expression outweighed any other differences in appearance, and in that moment, his resemblance to Sirius was striking.

I gave the younger Black a withering look and sat up a little straighter, appearing much more confident than I felt. "Yep, that's me. The mysterious new girl, single handedly keeping the Hogwarts rumor mill churning."

Regulus smirked handsomely. "No need for snark, Granger. I was just hoping to find out why my idiot brother is following you around like a lost puppy."

I looked up at him in surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I thought the two brothers were estranged?

Why was Regulus watching out for Sirius?

His smirk broadened, but I could tell that his eyes held no malice. "I can see there's no need to introduce myself." My cheeks burned, and I scolded myself for allowing my expression to be so transparent. "Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't noticed?" he continued. "The whole damn school has seen how he barely lets you out of his sight."

I furrowed my brow at the implication, but didn't respond. My fist clenched around my wand, which, before the interruption, I'd been using to clear the blotted ink from my essay.

My wand.

Oh God, please don't let him notice my wand. I didn't want another imbroglio like I'd had with Sirius. I shifted my palm casually down the handle of the walnut wand, covering the majority of the carved runic symbols. There was no telling how Regulus would react if he recognized the wand in my hand, and I had no desire to make my situation messier than it already was.

He was silent as well, observing my reaction closely. Then suddenly, his smirk faded and his eyes hardened. "So, tell me, Miss Dumbledore," he said, my little-known surname slowly falling from his lips, baiting me. I grimaced as I realized that my fabricated story was much more widespread than I had thought. "What are you doing with my brother?"

"I don't know what you mean," I replied mildly. "Sirius and I are barely friends. Nothing more." I slid my wand smoothly from the table and into the front pocket of my bag. Regulus's eyes widened briefly with surprise, and I knew he must have caught a glimpse.

Goddamn it.

Lately my vigilance had been anything but constant.

"Friends?" he snorted, recovering quickly. "You should know that my brother has very few friends of the female persuasion."

I shrugged unconcernedly. "There's no need to tell me that, Regulus. I understand Sirius better than you think."

He gave me a skeptical look. "You think you know my own brother better than me?"

"Not necessarily," I answered evenly. "He may have a reputation as a womanizing prat, but I know the kind of man he'll become one day. He will be exceptionally kindhearted and brave. Loyal almost to a fault—the kind of man willing to risk his life for those he loves."

His eyes narrowed at my proclamation. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, debating the risky statement on the tip of my tongue.

Oh, fuck it.

"Unlike you, if the conversation I just overheard is any indication."


I took a swig from my dusty bottle, frowning as I swallowed the last bit. I set it down on the counter with a hollow thunk and eyed the bloke behind the bar. His smooth, rosy cheeks suggested he couldn't be long out of Hogwarts and his dark hair was cropped closely to his scalp in a Muggle military-style. He paused halfway through wiping down a beer mug to Scourgify the filthy rag, but succeeded only in making the graying cloth slightly less dingy—even magic had its limitations. I laughed quietly as he wrinkled his nose in disgust, and I could tell he hadn't been working here very long.

At the sound of my laughter, the wizard looked up, scanning the bar. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled welcomingly before sliding the glass onto a shelf and heading in my direction.

"Another Butterbeer, miss?" he asked when he reached me.

I nodded, and he reached beneath the bar to retrieve a grubby bottle. As he popped the top with a flick of his wand, I used my own to siphon the layer of dust from the glass.

"Ah, good idea," he said approvingly. I gave a weak smile in response, and he glanced around at the bar once again. Apparently seeing there were no other customers waiting, he leaned against the counter and said, "New in town? I don't think I've seen you around before."

His eyes held a flirtatious sparkle that I didn't have the energy to return, so I simply nodded. "Just last week, actually."

"So what brings you to the Hog's Head?" he asked.

"I'm meeting someone soon."

He nodded, knowing better than to inquire further. The number one rule of the Hog's Head: don't ask too many questions. "Well I'm glad you stopped by," he said, offering his hand to me and giving a warm smile. "I'm Benjy Fenwick."

My eyes widened as I realized to whom I was speaking. My hand trembled as I placed it in his.

"Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him…"

Fenwick—Benjy's surname was Fenwick. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, placed at the Hog's Head with Aberforth to keep an eye on the less scrupulous patrons.

"It's nice to meet you, Benjy. I'm Hermione," I replied, doing my best to keep my expression steady.

"Cheers, Hermione." He paused for a moment, looking me over shrewdly. "If you don't mind me saying, you don't really look like you belong in a place like this."

I shrugged, knowing full well that, despite my scarred visage, I was quite out of place in the dodgy pub. I gave him the same once-over he'd given me.

"Neither do you."

He laughed. "Touché. I actually just started working here a few weeks ago—haven't quite gotten used to the dust yet."

"Any more complaints out of you, boy, and you won't get the chance to."

I turned to find Aberforth standing behind my barstool, wiping his hands on the stained apron around his waist and looking even grumpier than usual.

"Great to see you again, Dad."

Aberforth snorted as Benjy's eyes widened in shock.


"Sit wherever you want," Aberforth said gruffly as we reached the top of the stairs leading from the pub.

I sat primly on the edge of a lumpy armchair near the fireplace of Aberforth's sitting room. He took the seat across from me as he conjured a tea tray from thin air. It landed lightly on the wooden table between us, and he poured two steaming mugs of tea before pulling a silver flask from his pocket.

"Firewhiskey?" he asked, nodding to the flask in his hand.

'Before noon on a Sunday?' chided Mrs. Weasley's voice in my head.

"No thank you," I replied politely.

"Nonsense, girlie. This conversation requires a little lubricant."

I gave him a grim smile. "You're probably right. Go on then. Just a bit, please."

He nodded curtly and sloshed a little of the now familiar amber liquid into both mugs.

So much for never drinking again.

"Thank you for the owl," I said as he passed me a chipped mug. "She's very friendly. I named her Evie."

Aberforth grunted something that sounded like "Welcome," and I took a small sip of my tea, enjoying the faint warmth that went beyond the hot beverage. I stared down at my cup and scuffed a toe against the threadbare carpet, trying to decide how to begin this awkward conversation.

"You've got no idea what to say now, am I right?"

Aberforth's blunt statement caused me to look up, and I found brilliantly blue eyes piercing me, scrutinizing, just as his brother's had so many times. "Not a clue, sir," I replied honestly. "I'm a bit nervous, to tell you the truth. I know you didn't ask for this."

"Nope, sure as hell didn't."

I opened my mouth, ready to say that I completely understood and I'd inform his brother that all of this wasn't necessary.

However, he silenced me with a wave of a large, calloused hand and continued. "But I'm doing it, aren't I?" He pushed his grimy spectacles up the bridge of his long nose. "And for Merlin's sake, don't call me sir. 'Dad' is enough to be getting used to." He said the word as though it were a swear.

I swallowed my rejoinder and nodded before taking the plunge. "So how much do you know?"

"Everything, I reckon. Or at least the big picture," he answered, forgoing his cup of tea for a swig straight from his flask.

"So you know where I'm from?"

He took another gulp before lowering the flask and wiping a few stray drops of Firewhiskey from his whiskers with his sleeve. "From a time where we lost dismally?" he replied, recapping the flask slowly. "Where the school's in ruins and we're all dead?"

Succinctly put.

I nodded.

"Yeah, Albus told me. Didn't believe him, honestly. It's pretty damn out there, even for my brother."

"Do you still not believe me?" I asked, wondering why he'd agree to this arrangement if he didn't trust my story.

"Not sure," he replied. "Why should I?"

Why can't my life ever be simple?

My eyebrows furrowed. "So what do you want me to do?" I asked, voice rising in frustration. "Prove it to you? Because I can. I know things. Things only you could have told me."

"We've met?" he asked.

"You saved my life twice," I replied simply.

He sipped his tea in silent contemplation.

I took a deep breath and gazed up to the sooty oil painting of Ariana Dumbledore above the mantelpiece. She smiled serenely down at us, white pinafore neat and blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. I stared into her blue eyes, dulled from the age of the portrait, but just as distant and vacant as I remembered. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, spurring me on.

"You were her favorite," I said softly to the quiet room. "After she was attacked, her magic became unstable, but you were one of the few she trusted. After your mother was gone, only you could calm her—not Albus." Aberforth looked up, surprise briefly perceptible on his lined face. "You were good for one another. She liked to help you feed the goats when she was feeling well enough." I swallowed thickly, knowing I had to finish, but hating myself for it. My voice bordered on a whisper now. "And you still don't know whose wand was responsible."

Aberforth's expression was indecipherable, but all color had drained from his face. He sat up straighter in his chair and returned his cup of tea to the tray. He took a long draft from his flask as he stood.

"Come with me," he grunted before striding across the room and opening a half-hidden door I had previously overlooked.

Perplexed, I stood to follow. The door led outdoors, and we descended a set of weather-beaten wooden steps to the back garden of the Hog's Head. It was surprisingly spacious. In one corner was a modest vegetable garden filled with the crops of autumn—pumpkins, courgettes, and a variety of squashes. The other side was taken up by a large enclosure containing half a dozen goats and a few small kids bleating excitedly at our arrival.

Aberforth's face softened the moment his foot left the bottom step, and as he approached the fence, a black and white goat lolloped over, poking its head through the slats. A tiny, pure-white baby followed clumsily, nudging the larger one with its nose as it tried to come closer.

"This here is Selene," said Aberforth as he gently patted the head of the black and white goat. "And her little one, Ersa." He scratched the baby goat beneath her fuzzy chin, and she closed her eyes contentedly. "Pet 'em if you like. I've got some biscuits somewhere…"

He walked over to a bin near the wall of the pub to retrieve the treats. I reached out and stroked Selene, who nuzzled into my open palm. I smiled as she gave me a quick lick with her long, scratchy tongue.

"She's very sweet," I said once he returned.

Aberforth held out a biscuit to the baby, who devoured it promptly. "Just now old enough that she can have these." His voice grew rougher the more he spoke. "Selene and Ersa are direct descendants of one of the very first goats I ever got—Asha. She was Ariana's special favorite, so I let her do the naming. I used to read to her from Beedle's tales, you see..." He choked on his words and hastily attempted to pass if off as a cough. "Asha. Would be a fitting name, 'cept that there was no potion strong enough to heal my sister."

Tears were forming in the corners of Aberforth's wizened eyes, and I was reminded of a line from the very tale he'd just mentioned—The Fountain of Fair Fortune.

'Pay me the proof of your pain.'

The proof was evident as he hastily looked away. "You were right," he said. "My sister loved to help feed the goats. She'd play in the dirt with the young ones…" He fell quiet for a moment, watching the animals frolic about the pen.

"I reckon you're telling the truth, then," he said finally. "And I can't imagine what sort of hell you went through to get here, nor what you're planning on doing next. But you need somebody to help keep your head on straight, 'cause Merlin only knows what my brother is brewin' up for you."

"Thank you," I whispered as I knelt in front of Ersa. She stretched her neck until her small nose made contact with my cheek. "Everything is just so…" I broke off, searching for the right words. "Bloody insane right now." Aberforth gave a low chuckle. "But your brother told me that it's helpful to always have someone in your corner, and I think he's right."

"Albus always enjoyed his Muggle phrases."

We stood together in silence as the other goats approached us in search of their own biscuits. It struck me that this version of Aberforth seemed to be less… jaded than his future counterpart. The tragedies of his past had certainly left him cynical and disenchanted, but it seemed that there was still hope for him yet.

"Well, if you're going to be a Dumbledore, we might as well do the thing properly," Aberforth said suddenly. "It's tradition for every member of the family to be given three middle names. I know you've already got one and your surname, but…" Aberforth looked uncharacteristically hesitant as he paused. "How would you feel about taking the name Ariana?"

I gaped at him, quite literally speechless.

"What?" I spluttered.

"Of course, you don't—"

"No!" I all but shouted, and he fell silent. "I'm just a little surprised. I never anticipated…" I smiled graciously. "But I would be honored. Hermione Jean Ariana Granger-Dumbledore. A mouthful, but quite lovely, I think."

Aberforth grunted in a agreement. "Albus mentioned going the whole hog with a magical adoption. I reckon you'll have to talk to him about that."

I nodded. "You won't have to do very much," I said quickly. "I don't need money or anything like that."

Aberforth laughed. "Money? Nah. Any kid of mine will bleeding well work for their Galleons. Help me out at the pub when you can, and I'll be sure you're set."

I gave him a wide smile.

Can't argue with that.

"Sounds perfect to me."

"Right, then," Aberforth said, brushing biscuit crumbs from his hands. "I'll show you 'round the place."

As we walked to the door of the pub, he asked, "So just how old was I when you were born?"

"I suppose my birthdate is now in 1958, which means you would have been…" I wrinkled my nose as I quickly calculated. "Seventy-three."

"Really robbed the cradle, didn't I?" There was a twinkle in Aberforth's blue eyes, lighting up his whole face.

"I prefer to think that Mum just really fancied men with beards."


After a quick tour of the pub and a sandwich for lunch, I decided to stick around for the rest of the afternoon to get a feel for the place. I found I enjoyed Benjy's company greatly, and as I helped him take inventory of the back room, he'd entertained me with stories of his Hogwarts years. He'd graduated only two years prior and had evidently been a Hufflepuff with a penchant for skiving off lessons. He was an animated storyteller, and I'd laughed a little too much as he regaled the time he and his mates had gotten caught in second year, by no less than Dumbledore himself, as they left Moaning Myrtle's bathroom after using it to hold a Gobstones tournament while they were meant to be in History of Magic. It reminded me of my second year and sneaking off to brew a certain illicit potion, so I shared the tale with him, being careful to leave out the exact reason behind my illegal activity. He was impressed with my potion-brewing abilities as a second year and roared with laughter when I reached the cat hair plot-twist.

"So you spent a whole month in the hospital wing? With whiskers and a tail?" he asked as I stretched to replace a jar of olives on the top shelf.

"Yep. Well the whiskers went quickly, but the tail stuck around for longer than I care to say. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sleep when you keep rolling over on your great fluffy tail?"

He was laughing so hard he had to sit down.

"I'm glad my misfortune amuses you," I said, rolling my eyes as I picked up another jar.

"It is pretty great story, love. You weren't lying when you said you had plenty of adventures."

The jar of olives slipped from my fingers, bouncing against the ground as I spun around. Sirius was standing in the doorway of the back room of the pub, leaning against the frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Sirius!" I exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He was wearing the same leather jacket as he had the last time we'd been in Hogsmeade together, but this time I found that it made me go a little weak in the knees.

He shrugged nonchalantly, but didn't answer my question. "Your dad said you were back here. New part-time job?"

"Just helping Dad out around the pub," I answered. Benjy was looking from me to Sirius in silent bemusement. "Oh, sorry, Benjy. This is Sirius Black. He's a Gryffindor in my year. Sirius, this is Benjy Fenwick."

Benjy's eyes narrowed at the surname Black. "Yeah, I think I remember you from school. Along with a few other members of your family."

Sirius's face grew more serious. "You can't choose your family," he responded darkly.

Benjy appraised Sirius carefully for a moment. "True. I reckon a Black in Gryffindor is a pretty big departure from tradition, after all."

"No doubt about that," Sirius replied, his expression relaxing to normal. "Scandal of the century, according to my mother."

"Sirius, you didn't answer my question," I interjected huffily. "Why are you here?"

"Merlin, can't a bloke sneak out of the castle to visit a friend without getting the third degree?"

I arched an eyebrow skeptically.

"Fine," he conceded. "Marlene and I just had a bit of a falling out and Lily's on a warpath. I figured I'd better get the hell out of dodge if I like my bollocks in their proper place."

I ignored the way my heart rate quickened at this news, and turned to Benjy. "Think you can finish up without me?"

"Sure thing. You'll be back soon, I hope?" he asked. It wasn't a flirtatious question, but rather one you'd ask a new friend.

"Of course. Got to earn my keep, right?"

Benjy laughed. "See you soon then, Hermione."

I said my goodbye before steering Sirius back into the pub. "Come on, heartbreaker. Let's see if Dad will let us have a drink."


Aberforth watched us closely from behind the bar as I sipped my Butterbeer and Sirius swirled his glass of Firewhiskey pensively. He'd been uncharacteristically subdued since we'd taken our seats at a small table at the back corner of the pub.

"So are you going to tell me what happened or were you just planning to leave me here in suspense?" I asked, repeating the words he'd said to me a few days ago.

"How was lunch with your dad?"

I sighed at his obvious attempt to avoid the question. "Very good, actually. I think we might have a shot at being a proper family. Whatever that means."

"Good, good," said Sirius distractedly.

"Sirius," I said sternly. "What in the world is going on with you?"

He set his glass down onto the table and looked up at me, expression blank. "At the moment? Far too much."

"This isn't just about your break up with Marlene, is it?"

He shook his head. "Not a break up if you aren't really dating, anyway."

I didn't say a word, but instead waited for him to grow uncomfortable with the silence.

"How much do you know about my family, Hermione?" he blurted suddenly.

I stiffened visibly. "Honestly?" I asked.

He nodded.

How much should I tell him?

"A good bit," I admitted.

"So you know the kind of people they are?"

"Yes, I do," I replied carefully. "They hold some very unsettling beliefs, so I've heard. Along with a proclivity for practicing the darker aspects of magic."

"But you know that I'm not like them at all?" he asked, voice strained. "That I've never been like them?"

"Of course I do, Sirius," I said sincerely. "I understand the kind of person you are better than you think."

He didn't look surprised. "Yeah, I thought you might," he said, running a finger along the edge of his glass. "I don't know what it is about you, but you seem to get me better than people I've known for years."

Because I have known you for years.

I knew you when you were at your worst.

My heart ached for the young wizard sitting across from me, and I reached out and placed a hand on top of his. He seemed startled at the gesture, and stared down at my hand with a strange expression.

A bell tinkled as the door of the pub opened, but I didn't look away from him. He seemed to be struggling to decide what to say next. He looked up, his lips parting to finally reveal what was troubling him, but suddenly, his mouth snapped shut and he stiffened. His eyes were fixed on something over my shoulder, and he pulled his hand away sharply.

Stung, I asked, "Sirius, wha—" but he kicked me beneath the table. I fell silent.

"Long time, no see, Sirius," a voice drawled. Someone was approaching our table, and I could sense they weren't here on friendly business. I turned to see who it was.

The cover of a certain edition of The Daily Prophet flashed across my mind as the wizard reached us. My heart seemed to leap into my throat as recognition hit me.

Rodolphus Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom—

Well, at least it's not Bellatrix.

"Same to you, Lestrange," Sirius said dryly. "How's the family?"

"Everyone is well, on the whole. Something you would know if you ever came home." Sirius clenched his fist around his glass as Rodolphus continued. "Your mother is heartbroken over your absence."

"Heartbroken?" Sirius snorted. "And just what heart would that be? I was under the impression that my mother didn't have one."

"She simply misses you," Rodolphus said calmly. "She's been having Bellatrix and Narcissa over for tea twice a week since you left. Having someone around helps her to cope with her grief."

Sirius laughed hollowly. "Bella doesn't quite strike me as the type of witch to enjoy tea with an old hag like my mother."

Rodolphus ignored the slight to his wife. "Narcissa is set to be married soon, and as you well know, your father's health is in decline. Orion has been asking for you."

Sirius grimaced, but didn't respond. It seemed that he felt a bit more fondness toward his father than his mother.

Rodolphus dropped all pretense. "The offer still stands. I implore you to reconsider. You would be welcomed back with open arms, all previous transgressions forgiven."

"Fuck off, Lestrange," spat Sirius. The look of fury on his face was frightening.

It was time to intervene.

"Sirius," I said quietly. "Let's get out of here."

Sirius glared at Rodolphus for a moment longer before rising from his chair and throwing a few Sickles onto the table next to his glass, which was still completely full of Firewhiskey. "I think you're right. Let's go, Hermione."

Rodolphus seemed to notice me for the first time when Sirius said my name, and his upper lips curled with recognition. Of course, Voldemort would find any relation of Dumbledore's a person of interest, especially one that seemingly appeared from thin air. I took hold of Sirius's hand and dragged him toward the door of the pub.

"Interesting company you're keeping, Sirius," Rodolphus called after us.

Buggering fucking hell.

Not even a week since my arrival and I've already caught the eye of the enemy.

I looked to Aberforth, silently informing him that we were leaving, and he nodded shortly as if to say 'Go now.'

"Bye, Dad," I mouthed, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly.

The door banged shut behind us, and I pulled Sirius into an alleyway a few buildings away from the Hog's Head. He leaned against the brick wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily as if fighting the urge to return to the pub and curse Rodolphus to a pulp. I held his hand tightly in my own as I stood in front of him. A battle raged inside my mind as I debated what to say next.

"Sirius," I said cautiously. "I know the timing is wretched, but I have to tell you something."

He opened his eyes and there was a manic glint there that sent a shiver down my spine. It was the sort of look I'd seen many times on the face of his cousin. His eyes were crazed in a way that in any other member of his family usually predicated murder.

"Hit me with your worst."

"I'm so sorry, Sirius, but your brother—" I paused apprehensively as Sirius inhaled sharply. "He said yes. I overheard him yesterday in the library. Regulus accepted."


"Unlike you, if the conversation I just overheard is any indication."

Regulus stared at me blankly. "If I were you, Granger," he said slowly. "I would keep my nose out of the affairs of others. This doesn't concern you or my brother."

Or my brother.

Rage drove me to speech.

"Do you have any idea how much this will hurt him?" I said angrily. "He loves you, and you can't fool me into believing you don't still love him too. He'd do anything for you, yet here you are, selling your soul to a genocidal megalomaniac. And for what? Archaic, bullshit beliefs?" I leaned across the table, my face inches away from his. My voice lowered to an almost dangerous growl. "It's not fucking worth it, Regulus. Trust me on this."

"Do not presume to know me," Regulus said harshly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

I laughed humorlessly and leaned back in my chair. "Oh I don't, do I?" I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my Oxford, pulling the collar away from my throat to reveal the thin, pink line left by his cousin's knife. "Do you see this? And all of the other disgusting scars on my face?" Regulus stared at my neck for a moment, entranced, before averting his gaze. "I nearly lost my life because of someone, someone far away now, who shared the same philosophies. You are the one who has no idea what you're getting into."

I gathered my things hastily and threw my bag over my shoulder, breathing heavily through my nose. "Consider the consequences, Regulus. I may not know you, but I certainly would rather not see you killed. And trust me, you will die if you go down this path."

I left him sitting there as I walked away without looking back.

Reckless. Utterly reckless.


Sirius gripped my hand as if holding on for dear life. "I knew he would. Fucking spineless idiot." He narrowed his eyes. "But how do you even know about their offer?"

"I know a lot of things," I replied vaguely. "I also know why he's joining them. He thinks it's the easiest option. He's not like you, Sirius. No matter how much you wish he was. You both grew up hearing the same old blood purity line, but you were smart enough not to believe it."

"He was always her favorite…" he mused, staring off into the distance. "Even when we were kids. I was too goddamn stubborn for my mother's liking, but she doted on him, made him soft." He ran a hand through his hair. "You said you overheard him in the library? Who was he talking to?"

"No idea. Some blonde bloke—squinty eyes and atrocious teeth."

"Mulciber," Sirius said with a grimace. "Creepy son of a bitch. After what that bastard did to Mary, I can't believe Regulus would associate with him…" He broke off, brows knitted as if his brain was working too quickly for him to fully process his thoughts.

I knew the feeling well.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"I know," I said, moving closer to him. "Regulus doesn't have the courage to refuse like you, but don't give up on him yet. He didn't seem to want to say yes, and…" I hesitated briefly as Sirius locked eyes with me. "I may have given him a pretty harsh speech afterward."

"You spoke to him?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Er—yes," I admitted. "He noticed me as he was leaving the library. He seemed to want to interrogate me about my, um…" I bit my lip, and he raised his eyebrows. "Intentions with you. But I wasn't having it."

I recounted to him my conversation with Regulus. His expression was unreadable as I spoke, but his grip on my hand never relented.

"And then I er—showed him something," I said as I reached the conclusion, wondering how to word this delicately. "Something given to me by someone that holds the same beliefs as the wackos he's joining. I needed him to see it; he needed a warning to consider the consequences, because I'd rather not see him die."

Without any warning whatsoever, Sirius yanked me roughly by the hand, pulling me closer until I was flush with his body. The warmth radiating from him starkly contrasted the chilly September breeze.

"What exactly did you show him, Hermione?"

I sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does."

I'd talked myself into a corner, and I knew I had no other choice.

Reckless. Utterly reckless.

I released Sirius's hand, but didn't back away. I fumbled to undo the top few buttons of my shirt and let the collar fall away from my throat. I cocked my head to the side to give him a better view of the thin, pink scar stretching low across my neck.

A low growl escaped from his throat and his eyes looked pained as he stared.

"It's not really that bad," I said reassuringly. "I've had worse."

I realized immediately that this was the wrong thing to say.

He gripped my waist with both hands and spun me around so that my back was pressed against the wall. The look on his face could only be described as dangerous.

"How?" he asked quietly.

"I—it's—it's complicated."

He ducked his head so that his face was closer to mine. "Tell me how, Hermione."

I groaned in frustration and placed both hands on his chest in a half-hearted attempt to gain some space between us.

"This is bloody ridiculous. Can't a girl have a few secrets? We just met less than a week ago!"

Liar.

He gave me a burning stare, crumbling my resolve.

"I can't and won't give you specifics," I said resolutely, but the way I ran a hand through my hair betrayed my nerves. "I was captured. Someone did some pretty horrible things to me, and when we were trying to escape, I was held at knifepoint to force my friends to drop their wands. But we got away, and that's all that matters."

He traced the scar at the base of my throat with the tip of his index finger.

I shivered.

"Was that right before I found you? Was that why you looked like that?" He wrapped his arms around my waist, embracing me tightly. My whole body felt flushed as he rested his forehead against mine. Our bodies were pressed so closely together that it felt almost unbearable. I knew should have shrugged out of his grasp, but I didn't.

I couldn't.

I swallowed thickly. "No. That was—that was something else."

That was the end of life as I knew it.

"There was no faulty Portkey," he murmured.

It wasn't a question.

I closed my eyes as I shook my head.

"No, there wasn't. I'm sorry I lied to you. But Sirius—I couldn't tell you. It's just too dangerous. I'm too dangerous."

"You're a goddamn mystery is what you are," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "Who are you? The look on your face when you first saw me—I can't get it out of my head. It was like you knew me…" His lips ghosted down my cheek near my ear, hot breath trailing slowly along the angle of my jaw. "How is it that you know me, Hermione?" he murmured.

I squeezed my eyes shut even more tightly. How did this conversation end up here?

What could I possibly say?

But then it hit me.

My eyes snapped open.

"Do you know Occlumency?" I asked, leaning back to look into his eyes.

The strange question seemed to startle him. "I'm a Black," he said simply as if it were the obvious answer to my question. When I merely looked confused, he clarified. "The Blacks have always been a paranoid lot. My father taught us when we were young. It's been a while, so I'm a little rusty, but…"

"Practice Occlumency and I'll tell you everything," I told him firmly.

"Everything?" he repeated, surprised.

"Every horrid detail," I promised.

I thought this would be the end of it, but he didn't release me. Instead, he hugged me closer yet again. I buried my face into his chest.

He smelled like home.

"Did you mean what you said to Regulus?" he breathed into my hair.

"What?" I asked, the question muffled by his shirt.

"About knowing the kind of man I'll become?"

I looked up into his eyes, struck once again by the beautiful silvery blue I found there. My forehead furrowed in confusion. "Of course I did. Why would I say something like that if I wasn't certain of it?"

A grin spread slowly across his face, his gaze never straying as his lips moved breathtakingly close to mine.

"You're a strange witch, Granger."

And then he kissed me.


(A/N): So sorry to end the chapter there, but I couldn't help myself. First of all, I'm aware that the romance is moving rather quickly here, but there's totally a point to it.

As for the chapter title, I recommend reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, copyright J.K. Rowling, published by Bloomsbury in 2008. The references in this chapter are from The Fountain of Fair Fortune, and while I think everyone should check it out, I'll give a few quick notes for those who haven't. Ariana's goat was named after a witch from the tale. "The first, by name Asha, was sick of a malady no Healer could cure." Along the witches' journey to the Fountain, they encountered three challenges, and the first challenge required them to provide "proof of their pain." The "proof" ended up being Asha's tears of despair. I hope that clarifies a few things for anyone confused.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Any predictions for what's to come in the next few chapters?

-liz