A/N: Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

In Dreams

Chapter Six

"He's what?" Snape's voice resounded around the cluttered room, "can't he even have the decency to stay dead. Will Black ever …"

Remus grabbed Hermione by the wrist pulling her swiftly from the room; he reacted with similar speed to a baker who smells a burning cake. He didn't want to see a repeat performance of her graduation night; he had noticed the look in her eyes, the unpredictable one.

"You wish me to make the Recordoranimus Potion?"

"Yes Severus I do."

"Headmaster, you do understand that, Recordoranimus is a highly unstable potion. It is still in the process of being tested at the Ministry. Not only that, but the ingredients are very rare and expensive. Also to the best of my knowledge it takes five days to brew."

Dumbledore glanced at the bat like man, "I thought you'd like the challenge."

Severus knew he had no choice in the matter, so he turned and did what he did best, scowled and left the room grumbling to himself.

Albus Dumbledore sat and watched as the last person vacated the room prior to clasping his hands together delightedly. "Excellent plan Albus, even if I do say so myself."

The observing boxes at Hogwarts soared into the air to enable the spectators to watch the swift and dexterous game that is Quidditch. In turn each box exhibited the colours and emblem of one of the four houses – Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin or Gryffindor.

In one of said boxes, one of the gold and red stands, a young man with startling emerald green eyes, could be found silently reflecting, to his right sat his godfather. Neither chose to speak, both preferring to gaze off into the distance; acknowledging the spectacular view, which could only be achieved at that elevation. It was only noon, but the day was already darkening, the sullen clouds filtering the minimal sunlight available at this time of year. There was a smell of autumn to the air; a cold, crisp, fresh scent mixed with the tang of burning turf. This, most likely had been carried along with the breeze for miles, slowly diminishing its dominant aroma, instead creaming to the clean mountainous air. A pre-storm feel also radiated from the heavens, calm, relaxing but the hint of rain hung undeniably. Harry glanced in the direction of his godfather; they were seated in close proximity on the uncomfortably hard, wooden benches. Sirius was staring away with an unregistered, glaze in his eyes. What Harry would have given to have an infinitesimal clue as to what Sirius could be pondering? The man rarely spoke, and seemingly only to Hermione. Given the time to reflect what Remus had suggested, he began to believe the werewolf's words. Perhaps Sirius did recall something, question was, what? He would sell his soul in a flutter of a Snidget's wings to have even an ounce of the old Sirius return, just for one day, even for a moment; all he sought was a chance to speak to him one last time, to say sorry. Harry's muddled mind began to replay a memory, like gazing into a pensive.

December 1995 (Christmas 5th year)

It was two days after Christmas Day, but the mood was still bright. Sirius' delight at having so much company was still evident, though as the last days of the holiday ended he had begun to become more sullen. Harry himself, was quite pleased; he had spent the holidays with his godfather, best friends and surrogate family. Mr. Weasley had not been released from St. Mungo's yet, but nothing could dampen the conclusion that Voldemort wasn't possessing him. However, at the present moment, Harry for once didn't want to return to Hogwarts. This was due to varying reasons from Umbridge to the ban on Quidditch, he really missed his Firebolt, but most of all, he was worried about Sirius – being isolated; he knew what it was like being forced to stay somewhere you would rather not be. Not forgetting, Grimmauld Place wasn't exactly cosy, with its black drapes and House-Elf heads. Mind you, he had found them amusing with Santa hats and beards. He would have a chat with Sirius before he left.

Hermione was walking down the steep stairs in Grimmauld Place, Harry noted she was taking each step carefully and holding on to the railing for support. It was Christmas, and during the festive season she always dressed nice, swapping her usual pyjama bottoms or jeans for skirts. It was somewhat of a tradition for her. Her mother would take her shopping the first day of the holidays and buy her clothes – ones that were necessary and some especially for Christmas. Mrs. Granger missed her daughter greatly during the term and liked to spoil her only child whenever she had the chance. This year Hermione was suppose to have gone skiing with her parents, but she cancelled telling them she needed to study. It was partly true. Her mother had sent her the clothes and presents. As the teenager carefully descended the stairs Harry took note of her clothing. He could never get over how transformed she looked, when she dressed up. She was almost entirely dressed in black. Her purposely creased, black skirt of a synthetic material reached her ankles, with this she wore a slash neck top that showed her rounded shoulders, the only colour evident was the red of her boots, peeping out beneath the skirt. She had no experience wearing boots, and had been amazed to be given them. What was her mother thinking? Well, she figured she'd have to wear them at least once, or it would be a waste. She also had a scarf with beaded tassels tied around her waist, which bobbed with the sway of her hips. Harry was watching from the doorway, waiting for his friend, she hadn't noticed him. Her hair had been hastily pulled back into a messy bun, from which strands of her bushy hair escaped and flew about her face. He also noticed that she had ink stains on her fingers. She may have been dressed differently, but you couldn't alter the fact that; Hermione Granger spent most of her time studying.

Harry wasn't the only one watching her, unknown to the two friends, a tall, once handsome faced man was standing behind her. Watching as the teenager walked down the stairs, slowly. He came to his senses, to realize what he was doing and turned away, highly disgusted with himself. The unobserved man headed in the direction of Buckbeak.

"Hey Harry," Hermione said cheerfully, having finally reached the end of the stairs.

"Hey, taking a break?" Harry asked smirking.

"Yes, and I'd recommend you do some work too. We do have OWLS this year Harry and that goes for Ron too. Wherever he's disappeared to."

"Ok, Ok, I get the point. Let's just go eat," Harry said holding out his arm for Hermione. The two best friends headed onto the kitchen, where the red-haired, freckled one had already begun eating.

Later that night found Hermione sitting in the cold, dark kitchen of Grimmauld Place, head over her newly acquired book – 'New Theory of Numerology.' The other occupants of the house had long since gone to their rooms, but Hermione could not sleep. She had headed to the kitchen for a drink and on seeing the book had begun reading it. She had become engrossed in the book and by the time she realised what hour it was, it had become to late to read in bed. The light would wake Ginny up, and that wouldn't be fair. She was alerted however, to a thud outside the door, like someone walking into a table.

'Tonks! Clumsy, you had better not have woken up Mrs. Black.' She thought.

However, when the door to the kitchen opened it wasn't Tonks who entered but Sirius. His left hand tightly gripping a bottle of 'Ogden's Old Firewhiskey'. His eyes appeared drowsy and bloodshot.

"Sirius?"

The dark haired man squinted his eyes to gain a better look at the blob sitting before him.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh! Mind if – if I join you?" he said falling into a seat, "want one," he offered her the bottle.

"No. I'm ok thanks."

"No – I didn't think so."

He wasn't drunk, just a little light-headed.

"So, what you reading?"

"A book Harry got me for Christmas."

"Ah yes – Harry."

"Sirius, you ok?"

"There's no better sensation than finishing your obligation; and when others fret and scream, you can sit and dream."

Harry groaned and rolled over, "that bloody homework planner," he cursed. Ron had knocked it from his bedside locker in his sleep. Harry being a naturally light sleeper had been woken up its 'helpful' advice.

"May as well get a glass of water," he mumbled to himself, pulling a cloak around his shoulders. On his way out he noted the seemingly empty frame – "I wonder does Dumbledore have Phineas spy on me when I'm asleep too."

"I'm worried about him Hermione."

"That's your job."

Sirius looked at Hermione horrified, she had spoken so matter-of-factly, "Hermione that's-"

"You misunderstood; you care because you love him. Sirius he's James' son. If you didn't care about your best friend's son – your godchild- then there would be something wrong."

Sirius stared at the fifteen year old, sitting so knowledgably before him, with an unreadable gaze, "he's not happy though," he sighed. "It's too much responsibility for someone so young," he angrily banged his fist of the table, causing the page of Hermione's book to change.

"Harry has never really been happy Sirius. Harry will never be truly happy, you can only be as happy as you allow yourself to be," she said sadly.

Sirius stared dumbly at her.

"The only times, lately, that I have seen him without any worries, happy I suppose, are when he's playing Quidditch or is around you. You mean the world to him," she smiled sweetly at the older man.

Sirius shook his head laughing, "You know at times, you sound remarkably like Moony."

This time Hermione smiled.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Hermione stretched her arms out and placed her small hands over Sirius' much larger ones, "what Fred said about you know…"

Sirius blanched, "not risking my neck."

"He didn't mean it."

"He called me a coward," he whispered.

Hermione's voice rose angrily, "Sirius black you are most definitely not a coward – you risked your life for your friends. You believe in something so much that you would willingly die for it. That does not make you a coward – it's, and I don't want to sound corny, noble."

"Is a bit corny," Sirius sniggered.

She didn't notice that she still had her hands cupped around his, "what I wanted to say was – if you ever doubt your involvement – know this, without you Harry would be a wreck."

"Someone mention my name?" came a groggy voice from the doorway.

"Harry!" cried Sirius, pulling his hands away from Hermione, "just having a chat."

"Well it would appear no one can sleep tonight," Hermione joked.

"No, I was asleep – till the homework reminder woke me," Harry smiled.

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, "anyone for a drink," she said.

As Hermione turned to make three cups of hot chocolate, Harry noticed Sirius looking intently at Hermione. 'Must be wondering, why on earth she would give us that for Christmas. Anyway thinking about looks, Ron's been staring at Hermione a lot lately. I wonder does he like her or more importantly, does she like him.' Harry thought.

Hermione turned holding two cups in her hands, "where did Sirius go?"

"He just left, mumbling something, think it was goodnight."

"Oh! Ah well, hot chocolate for two then."

As Harry slowly came around from his thoughts, he became aware of two things. His godfather was watching him with what can only be described as sagacious looks, but also that a heavy fog had descended upon the Quidditch pitch, much like a cat pouncing on an unsuspecting mouse. It created the illusion that they were floating in the sky above the clouds. Harry stood up placing both his strong, coarse palms on the dull iron railing in front. He observed the mist weaving and snaking around the bark of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. A morose grin crossed his lips before sighing deeply. It was beautiful if only for a moment before Life came flooding back to reclaim her prey.

"Heathcliff…." 'No his name is Sirius' "…Sirius, come on we best head back"

The two men of almost equalling height set off down the wooded steps at the rear of the towering structure. The younger man perplexed and silently praying to his father's memory for hope, the other, a man in possession of haunting, shadowy russet tinted eyes also confused; he however, at an image of a young boy with glasses and broom that flew, and flashes of the colour red. Of what significance, he could not comprehend. Maybe he really was this character they had spoken of. What he did know was that he felt more secure and relaxed seating here than anywhere he had been in the previous week.

Hermione turned to face her co-worker after they walked out the main doors of the castle.

"Well are you going to explain to me what that was all about?"

"Later."

"No, I'd like to know now."

"I said, later," Remus replied becoming annoyed with her insistence.

"Why not now?" she responded progressively more agitated.

Remus answered by pointing to the two bodies appearing through the mist.

'Damn you Remus and your super wolfish eyesight.'

"Harry would you bring Heathcliff back to Hermione's apartment, I have something to show her," Remus addressed Harry in an almost order like tone.

Harry eyed the two suspiciously but agreed.

When Harry and Sirius and were out of earshot, Remus faced Hermione, "see Harry didn't ask any questions."

"I'm not Harry," she replied smirking, "and anyway he is use to talking orders – Auror!"

Remus glanced at the stubborn twenty-five year old and sighed, "just follow me."

Hermione followed her ex-professor into one of the empty classrooms on the ground floor of the castle.

"So why did you send Harry and Sirius away?" she asked immediately entering the room.

Remus gave the impression of being uncomfortable with the question. He had an odd expression. He was treating the information he had carefully, trying to find the correct words to utter, choosing them was highly important to make what he was about to say plausible.

"Remus, just tell me." She jumped up to sit on the bare teacher's desk and continued to look at the man almost twenty years her senior expectantly.

"Yes, sitting that's a good idea," was all he articulated, sitting shiftily for a while.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, do you plan on telling me anytime soon or are we just wasting time?"

Remus stood and paced back and forth in front of the exasperated young woman, going over in his head what to say.

He began, "when you were outside, Harry took Sirius to look for you…"

"And?"

"Dumbledore, after hearing the facts, thinks he may have the solution."

"Brilliant, that's what we wanted to hear…"she trailed off noticing for the first time the uncomfortable glare in Remus' milky blue eyes, "your not finished are you?" she asked accusingly.

"No"

"Well?"

"He said there might be away. If we use a potion called Recordoranimus."

"I recognise the name. I read about it in one of the Ministry Department newsowls.

Remus smirked at her.

"Well, you should know it gets boring in the shop, I was just exploring my options."

His smirk grew into a heart felt chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"There's nothing wrong with that – zilch!"

"I know."

"Good," she continued smiling, "what else?"

Remus face became stony once more, "Albus thinks, if we get it, it would help Sirius remember - "

"Wait I remember why they wrote the article, REMUS, it's a highly unstable potion. They're thinking of stopping the trials and then it will become banned. We can't use that, what if something goes wrong in it's preparation."

"I heard, but Albus thinks that Snape could brew it correctly."

"Remus, I know Snape is a highly qualified and efficient Potions Master but this potion is really complex, or so I read, what if he makes a mistake? He didn't or even doesn't like Sirius. Who's to say he won't purposely make a blunder."

"I understand your concerns Hermione and I'm very aware of Snape's attitude towards Sirius but he would also do anything for Dumbledore. It was he who after all who saved him."

"Well I guess, if Dumbledore believes it's a good idea," Hermione said unsure.

"He does. We just have to trust him, as horrible as his personality can get, Snape has never let us down when it counted," Remus spoke as if trying to convince himself.

"I guess Sirius' faith rests in the cauldron of his foe," she snorted.

"There's more but I think you should follow me to Hogsmeade first."

"Why?"

"We are going on a little excursion."

They walked toward the small entirely wizard town, both caught up in their own feelings about this 'idea' of the eccentric headmaster, but then he always seemed to know what was best. When they arrived Lupin took Granger by the hand and they disapparted.

"Well we're here."

"I figured as much," Hermione answered, still pondering the use the memory potion.

Remus ignored the remark and walked towards the building, and this was no ordinary one. It was architecturally antique in comparison to the modern houses of the preceding area. Hermione gazed up at it her mouth indignantly hanging open. Apparently, this was a 'country cottage'. When Remus had said this, Hermione had envisioned a quaint lodgings, perhaps a few shrubs; a little more like the one in Yorkshire, not what was standing triumphantly before her. Hermione couldn't get over how big the place was. She estimated that it was at least four hundred years old and one of the predecessors had planted ivy, which had grown up the turrets and blocked the light from entering some of the front rooms. The house itself appeared to be made out of limestone, or at least the facade was, some of the relief work was blackened from acid rain. Which she believed only added to the personality of the house. Inscribed Latin was etched along the architrave, the acid rain having had its was with it too, dissolving the limestone and in turn making it next to impossible for Hermione to read it. She decided to quiz Remus on it later. Long, narrow steps led up to the porch that was held proudly by two Corinthian style columns, which protected the monstrous oak door. Where there were brass knockers and handles that only closer inspection appeared to be shaped like serpent bodies, surrounded by acanthus leaves. If she had walked up the mile long drive to the house, she would have witnessed the oak trees forming a guard of honour. Not only did they create lovely golden foliage in autumn, playing with the light only allowing snippets in, but also making it the perfect shaded area during warm summer days.

"If this is the front, I wonder what the interior looks like," Hermione mumbled to herself.

"Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there gawping?" Remus' voice pulled her out of her dream world.

"I was just taking in my surroundings; I would have expected you to be cultural."

Remus smirked and Hermione followed him into the aged structure.

"So this is the 'country cottage' then? Only I thought cottages were small, not bloody huge!"

"Not my fault Sirius' family underestimated the building."

"What? … Ok," Hermione said absentmindedly, she hadn't been listening; her eyes had gone wide with wonder. This caused Remus to snigger but she seemed oblivious to this. The hallway they were standing in was as wide as her bedroom and about three times as long. The floor, although in need of a good sweeping, had been polished in a rich varnish that accentuated the grain of the mahogany. Halfway through the hallway she was greeted by a large marble staircase that branched into two stairwells. At the point where the staircase branched was a large regency mirror, decorated with golden intertwined lotus leaves. The wide base of the staircase faced bulky panelled doors, which were closed. She assumed they led to some form of reception room. The walls were decorated with paintings of the owner's ancestors. They all watched as the intruders made their way down the foyer.

"Who did you say owned this place?" asked Hermione.

"Sirius."

"Really?"

"He owns everything in sight. You've seen the Black family tree; they're a very extended bunch. With him being the last Black he inherited the lot"

"So who lived here then, it doesn't seem to be as dark as Grimmauld Place," Hermione enquired.

"A cousin of Sirius' called Antiochus Scapolo. He was however much older than Sirius, he died about fifteen years ago. As far as I know, the house has been lying idle since. Although Dumbledore suspected that the LesStranges hid out here for awhile."

"Well that explains the dirt," Hermione replied rubbing her finger along the frame of one of the paintings. It appeared that everything now lay under a shroud of undisturbed dust. "So are there any disturbed House-Elves lurking about, or are we going to find a decapitated one in an abandoned cupboard" Hermione said bitterly, though she still believed SPEW was a good idea.

"Hermione!"

"Sorry, I don't know where that came from." She shook her head apologetically.

"So Remus, why exactly are we here?" Hermione asked the werewolf ignoring his exclamation.

"Dumbledore recommended that here would be the best place to keep Sirius if he is to be given the potion. He has no bad memories of here, that we are aware of, but also is a quiet area that will enable him to recover faster," responded Remus.

"That's well and good Remus, but who is to stay with him? He can't very well be left alone."

"No he can't, can he?" the older man continued, "That's why Albus recommended… you."

"What! I can't stay here, I have a business to look after and Kevin, he wouldn't like the idea of me living with another man – whoever he is."

"Weren't you saying that you missed Sirius?" said Remus.

"Yes but…"

"And Kevin is away isn't he?"

"That's right but…"

"Sirius also seems more comfortable around you and I can look after the shop while you're here," he continued pleasantly.

"You – you're his best friend. Why can't you stay here?" Hermione said suddenly remembering the very important little fact, that they had been friends since the age of eleven.

"Tonks, and there is a transformation in three weeks."

"Harry? – His godson," she tried desperately.

"Harry has to work; also I don't think Molly would allow him with the wedding planning, so really there's only you? Think of it as a holiday, you did mention that you would like one."

"Does this voice work on Tonks," Hermione said, "Yeah, I did say that, but I meant somewhere like Greece."

"It does," smiled Remus, "well?"

"Fine, I don't really have a choice," the young woman replied surrendering.

"Now Hermione, it's not a task – you know he'd do it for you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow questionably, "he wouldn't have to, as someone else would have been roped into doing it anyway."

Remus continued in his calm teaching voice, that he used when explaining something, "anyway it'll only be during the week that you will be alone – we'll be here at the weekends."

"I'll do it," Hermione said defeated. "On one condition, we stay in my flat." She held up her hand to silence him. "I understand the merits of the silence and the seclusion but I think moving Sirius again would only be disruptive. He seems content enough in my spare room. And anyway, this place is too big. You're not having me here to clean under the pretence of aiding Sirius!"

"if that will make you more comfortable."

"When will the potion be ready?" she asked.

"Well Snape will have to retrieve the more rare and expensive components and brew it, also you'll have to be prepared, so I guess about…"

"Two weeks time?"

Remus nodded.