Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the books' characters! They
belong to J.K Rowling, so don't sue me!!
Summary: When Ron becomes engaged to Fleur Delacour, someone very unexpected shows Hermione that Ron may not be the guy for her after all
** *
Forbidden?
Chapter Six: Making The Choice
**
Sirius dropped into the armchair of his desk in the office that he shared with Remus. It was very late, and he'd probably regret this tomorrow when he had early classes (with the Slytherins, no less!), but not one ounce of sleep weighed down on his eyelids.
And he had no trouble figuring out the reason why.
His eyes lifted from the smooth wood paneling to the three photographs that stood in frame and color on his desk.
The first was of Sirius as a teenager, with two other boys and a girl. A dull ache registered the loss of James and Lily as he looked into his best friend's smiling eyes as James Potter waved at him cheerfully. Remus was there, beside James, grinning with all the ecstasy of a wizard with many O.W.L's.
Next was the photograph of James and Sirius just before their seventh-year graduation. Both were in suits rather than robes, their arms slung around each other, both grinning - believing their friendship would last forever.
And it had . . . but James hadn't been the given the chance to know forever.
"Oh, Prongs," Sirius murmured sadly. "If only you were here." He sighed. "What have you done to me, James?"
The third and last photograph was a very, very recent one of Sirius at thirty-two years old, one arm each around a teenage boy and a teenage girl, a second boy standing beside the girl, her arm hooked in his.
James' son's green eyes peered back into Sirius' before, almost like magnetic force, his gaze was drawn to the sparkling brown eyes of the young girl standing there.
Hermione had changed since her third year at Hogwarts.
Sirius remembered the first time he had met Harry's brilliant best friend. She had helped him and Buckbeak escape, with no regard for herself or for her safety. That hadn't changed . . .
He'd admired her intelligence as well as her sincere honesty, but he hadn't been over-the-top entranced by her. Sure, he had known that she was something special, and maybe he had thought about her often, but it wasn't until he had returned with Remus to fight Voldemort that things had changed.
She was still sweet as honey and sharp as a razor, but the moment Sirius laid eyes on her, he knew nothing would be the same.
Her hair was no longer bushy, but fell in soft silky ringlets to her shoulders. Her eyes danced with humor and affection even in the most painful and hardest of times. She'd grown up too; her body no longer that of a girl's, but that of a woman's. Sirius had hardly been able to take his eyes off her, and had been forced to seek shelter in the hidden gaze of a dog.
But she'd developed something else since the last time he'd seen her. Courage. She had it in abundance and a fierce loyalty to those she loved.
A flash of pain struck his heart and he remembered what she had done.
//They had believed it was the end when Voldemort had captured Remus and Ron in order to lure Sirius and Harry out of the safety of Hogwarts. They had left Hermione behind when they'd gone after the Dark Lord, and they had been so stupid as to believe she hadn't followed . . .
In the dark dungeons of Voldemort's lair, the Dark Wizard had trapped Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore too, along with Ron and Remus. Chained to the walls, tortured by the Cruciatus curse, no power or hope available to them, Sirius had been sure that it was Voldemort's turn to rise.
Voldemort told them that he was going to slice each of their wrists, and allow their blood to flow into a deep whirlpool of shining liquid, bubbling less than twelve feet away from them. The cut would kill them, and their blood mixing with the vortex would give him power that could never be surpassed. The only thing that could close the vortex for good, Voldemort said, would be the sacrifice - the life - of a pure human soul.
He remembered closing his eyes in resignation, his last thought being of her . . . praying that somehow, somewhere - someone would be there to take care of her when they were gone - to keep her safe from the torture and darkness of Voldemort's shadow.
The Dark Lord's scream of anger had caused Sirius' eyes to snap open, and he had found himself faced with the worst of his nightmares.
For there was Hermione and her wand outstretched at the Death eaters, she had created a shield to keep them away from the vortex, from the prisoners chained to the wall, and from her.
Dumbledore's eyes had reflected fear of the most horrifying kind. Remus and Harry had been screaming and yelling for her to stop, for her to run when she still had a chance. Ron had been crying.
And Sirius had stared into her eyes in shock.
She had begun to run, her body gaining speed as she crossed the vast caverns. Sirius knew what she was going to do.
She was going to throw herself into the vortex.
It would kill her.
But she had known that it would save her friends. That it would save Ron. That it would save Sirius. That it would save the world from Voldemort's evil.
Some things were worth dying for.
But Sirius had known then, with a burst of adrenaline and strength, that nothing was worth losing her.
He had transformed into a dog, breaking the Cruciatus spell over him and shattering the chains to pieces. Leaping through the air, he had jumped straight at the running teenager and had knocked her backwards, away from the vortex, onto the cold dungeon floor.
In an instant, while her eyes widened in shock, he transformed back into a man and took her wand from her. With it, he Summoned the wands of Dumbledore, Harry, Remus, Ron and his own, and restored them to their owners.
While the others destroyed the Death Eaters, Dumbledore had performed the Avada Kadavra curse on Voldemort.
It had killed him, but they all knew that they would have been in his place had it not been for the sacrifice of a young woman who had been willing to give up everything for those she loved. //
Sirius swallowed hard, tears brimming in his eyes as he remembered that night that had been both his worst and his victory. Coming so close to losing Hermione had brought a lot of feelings to light, Harry and Ron realizing the value of their friendship, Remus realizing his love for the girl he considered the daughter he never had, and Sirius himself realizing that he would never find another Hermione again.
And now?
Now, what was he supposed to do? He knew what he wanted; he wanted it so badly that it ached inside.
Yet how could he?
She was sixteen! He was just past thirty-three! He was seventeen years older than she was, and she hadn't even graduated.
And it was his godson's best friend . . .
It was like falling in love with a daughter of James'.
"God, 'Mione," he mumbled softly into the quiet of the night. "What have you done to me?"
This was insane. He was crazy. What would James say if he was alive today? What would Remus say? No, forget that: what would HARRY and RON say?!
Groaning, he reached out for the photograph of himself with Harry, Ron and Hermione and stared into her face for a long time.
So long, that he didn't hear the soft footsteps enter the room from one of the two attaching bedrooms.
"Insomnia, Padfoot?" a gentle voice asked.
Sirius jumped violently. "Christ almighty, Remus," he sank back into the chair. "Are you trying to give an old man a heart attack?"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Is that eating you, Sirius? You're not an old man; you're a very young man and a very handsome, eligible, entitled one at that."
"How long have you been here?" Sirius demanded accusingly.
"Long enough."
The ex-prisoner of Azkaban gave up trying to pretend and sighed. "What do you have to say, Moony?"
"Follow your heart." Remus smiled.
"Geez, Remus, that's so clichéd. Couldn't you come up with something original?"
The werewolf laughed, and patted his best friend on the shoulder. "She's one-of-a-kind, Sirius. But she's very young. I think you should do what your heart wants you to, but be careful. Don't do anything stupid." He grinned. "You have a choice to make, so I'll leave you to it. Get some rest."
Sirius watched the slightly older man stroll out of the room, and he looked back at the photograph. Remus was right (as always): he had to be careful, but as long as his heart screamed that it was right, nothing could be forbidden.
Nothing.
He stood up, a slight smile playing on his mouth as he thought about her, and about what could possibly be . . . possibly.
"See you soon, 'Mione." Sirius Black whispered to the photograph before laying it back down carefully on his desk and then heading to his room.
He had made the choice.
** TBC.
**
A/N: So let's hear it . . . what did you guys think of this chapter and how the story's going? Please review, and I'll update as soon as I can. Catchya soon!
Summary: When Ron becomes engaged to Fleur Delacour, someone very unexpected shows Hermione that Ron may not be the guy for her after all
** *
Forbidden?
Chapter Six: Making The Choice
**
Sirius dropped into the armchair of his desk in the office that he shared with Remus. It was very late, and he'd probably regret this tomorrow when he had early classes (with the Slytherins, no less!), but not one ounce of sleep weighed down on his eyelids.
And he had no trouble figuring out the reason why.
His eyes lifted from the smooth wood paneling to the three photographs that stood in frame and color on his desk.
The first was of Sirius as a teenager, with two other boys and a girl. A dull ache registered the loss of James and Lily as he looked into his best friend's smiling eyes as James Potter waved at him cheerfully. Remus was there, beside James, grinning with all the ecstasy of a wizard with many O.W.L's.
Next was the photograph of James and Sirius just before their seventh-year graduation. Both were in suits rather than robes, their arms slung around each other, both grinning - believing their friendship would last forever.
And it had . . . but James hadn't been the given the chance to know forever.
"Oh, Prongs," Sirius murmured sadly. "If only you were here." He sighed. "What have you done to me, James?"
The third and last photograph was a very, very recent one of Sirius at thirty-two years old, one arm each around a teenage boy and a teenage girl, a second boy standing beside the girl, her arm hooked in his.
James' son's green eyes peered back into Sirius' before, almost like magnetic force, his gaze was drawn to the sparkling brown eyes of the young girl standing there.
Hermione had changed since her third year at Hogwarts.
Sirius remembered the first time he had met Harry's brilliant best friend. She had helped him and Buckbeak escape, with no regard for herself or for her safety. That hadn't changed . . .
He'd admired her intelligence as well as her sincere honesty, but he hadn't been over-the-top entranced by her. Sure, he had known that she was something special, and maybe he had thought about her often, but it wasn't until he had returned with Remus to fight Voldemort that things had changed.
She was still sweet as honey and sharp as a razor, but the moment Sirius laid eyes on her, he knew nothing would be the same.
Her hair was no longer bushy, but fell in soft silky ringlets to her shoulders. Her eyes danced with humor and affection even in the most painful and hardest of times. She'd grown up too; her body no longer that of a girl's, but that of a woman's. Sirius had hardly been able to take his eyes off her, and had been forced to seek shelter in the hidden gaze of a dog.
But she'd developed something else since the last time he'd seen her. Courage. She had it in abundance and a fierce loyalty to those she loved.
A flash of pain struck his heart and he remembered what she had done.
//They had believed it was the end when Voldemort had captured Remus and Ron in order to lure Sirius and Harry out of the safety of Hogwarts. They had left Hermione behind when they'd gone after the Dark Lord, and they had been so stupid as to believe she hadn't followed . . .
In the dark dungeons of Voldemort's lair, the Dark Wizard had trapped Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore too, along with Ron and Remus. Chained to the walls, tortured by the Cruciatus curse, no power or hope available to them, Sirius had been sure that it was Voldemort's turn to rise.
Voldemort told them that he was going to slice each of their wrists, and allow their blood to flow into a deep whirlpool of shining liquid, bubbling less than twelve feet away from them. The cut would kill them, and their blood mixing with the vortex would give him power that could never be surpassed. The only thing that could close the vortex for good, Voldemort said, would be the sacrifice - the life - of a pure human soul.
He remembered closing his eyes in resignation, his last thought being of her . . . praying that somehow, somewhere - someone would be there to take care of her when they were gone - to keep her safe from the torture and darkness of Voldemort's shadow.
The Dark Lord's scream of anger had caused Sirius' eyes to snap open, and he had found himself faced with the worst of his nightmares.
For there was Hermione and her wand outstretched at the Death eaters, she had created a shield to keep them away from the vortex, from the prisoners chained to the wall, and from her.
Dumbledore's eyes had reflected fear of the most horrifying kind. Remus and Harry had been screaming and yelling for her to stop, for her to run when she still had a chance. Ron had been crying.
And Sirius had stared into her eyes in shock.
She had begun to run, her body gaining speed as she crossed the vast caverns. Sirius knew what she was going to do.
She was going to throw herself into the vortex.
It would kill her.
But she had known that it would save her friends. That it would save Ron. That it would save Sirius. That it would save the world from Voldemort's evil.
Some things were worth dying for.
But Sirius had known then, with a burst of adrenaline and strength, that nothing was worth losing her.
He had transformed into a dog, breaking the Cruciatus spell over him and shattering the chains to pieces. Leaping through the air, he had jumped straight at the running teenager and had knocked her backwards, away from the vortex, onto the cold dungeon floor.
In an instant, while her eyes widened in shock, he transformed back into a man and took her wand from her. With it, he Summoned the wands of Dumbledore, Harry, Remus, Ron and his own, and restored them to their owners.
While the others destroyed the Death Eaters, Dumbledore had performed the Avada Kadavra curse on Voldemort.
It had killed him, but they all knew that they would have been in his place had it not been for the sacrifice of a young woman who had been willing to give up everything for those she loved. //
Sirius swallowed hard, tears brimming in his eyes as he remembered that night that had been both his worst and his victory. Coming so close to losing Hermione had brought a lot of feelings to light, Harry and Ron realizing the value of their friendship, Remus realizing his love for the girl he considered the daughter he never had, and Sirius himself realizing that he would never find another Hermione again.
And now?
Now, what was he supposed to do? He knew what he wanted; he wanted it so badly that it ached inside.
Yet how could he?
She was sixteen! He was just past thirty-three! He was seventeen years older than she was, and she hadn't even graduated.
And it was his godson's best friend . . .
It was like falling in love with a daughter of James'.
"God, 'Mione," he mumbled softly into the quiet of the night. "What have you done to me?"
This was insane. He was crazy. What would James say if he was alive today? What would Remus say? No, forget that: what would HARRY and RON say?!
Groaning, he reached out for the photograph of himself with Harry, Ron and Hermione and stared into her face for a long time.
So long, that he didn't hear the soft footsteps enter the room from one of the two attaching bedrooms.
"Insomnia, Padfoot?" a gentle voice asked.
Sirius jumped violently. "Christ almighty, Remus," he sank back into the chair. "Are you trying to give an old man a heart attack?"
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Is that eating you, Sirius? You're not an old man; you're a very young man and a very handsome, eligible, entitled one at that."
"How long have you been here?" Sirius demanded accusingly.
"Long enough."
The ex-prisoner of Azkaban gave up trying to pretend and sighed. "What do you have to say, Moony?"
"Follow your heart." Remus smiled.
"Geez, Remus, that's so clichéd. Couldn't you come up with something original?"
The werewolf laughed, and patted his best friend on the shoulder. "She's one-of-a-kind, Sirius. But she's very young. I think you should do what your heart wants you to, but be careful. Don't do anything stupid." He grinned. "You have a choice to make, so I'll leave you to it. Get some rest."
Sirius watched the slightly older man stroll out of the room, and he looked back at the photograph. Remus was right (as always): he had to be careful, but as long as his heart screamed that it was right, nothing could be forbidden.
Nothing.
He stood up, a slight smile playing on his mouth as he thought about her, and about what could possibly be . . . possibly.
"See you soon, 'Mione." Sirius Black whispered to the photograph before laying it back down carefully on his desk and then heading to his room.
He had made the choice.
** TBC.
**
A/N: So let's hear it . . . what did you guys think of this chapter and how the story's going? Please review, and I'll update as soon as I can. Catchya soon!
