A/N: This is the second chapter. Now, I will warn you, it is slightly Out Of Character (OOC) so please don't bother mentioning it in your reviews. I hope you like it!
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June 15, 1996
I am really depressed right now.
Sirius is dead.
Neville told me that just before he fell through the veil he was looking in our direction. I remember the weekend before he died. Sure, everyone thought I stayed at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron (who, by the way, has been hitting on me lately; it's quite annoying) but once, at night, I snuck out via Floo powder that I took once from Grimmauld Place, just in case, and I went back to Grimmauld to visit with him. It went... further than we ever had, and we'd both misplaced our wands.
After he died, I thought about suicide, but then I thought about something.
A small, small possibility, perhaps, but it is still one. I think, maybe, that if it happens, I'd be happy, just to have something, you know? But if it doesn't, maybe I'll go through with it. Kill myself, I mean, I loved him.
When I first got to Grimmauld Place I hung around with Ginny, Ron, Fred and George, but then they all got obsessed with finding out what the Order was doing, so I took refuge in the library. I found Sirius one day in the maps section, looking at a bare spot in North
Eastern England. I asked him, "What's that?"
He replied, "This is where Godric's Hollow is." He sighed then, and leaned back, pushing his shaggy black hair out of his eyes, which were bright, and sparkling gray. "Sometimes, Hermione, I think I should've died sooner. Sometimes I wish I was dead. But then I have to think about Harry, you know."
"Sirius, don't even say that!" I exclaimed. He looked over at me, his eyes searching mine. "You'll always have a friend with me," I told him. "Any time, just come and talk, I don't mind, I'll just be there for you." I was almost glaring at him for wishing himself dead. How he affected me, at only sixteen, this way, I don't think I'll ever know. But I looked into his eyes, I just and I saw that he had meant what he said, and he knew I meant what I said. I remember how much we spoke to each other for those twelve weeks. How he sometimes just knew what I was going to say.
Once he mentioned a Gillian Prewett, who was his one-time fiancée. I asked him about her, and he informed me Voldemort had killed her. He told me about her, and I wasn't jealous. I had no right to be. She was from his past, and she wasn't coming back. She was dead. It's like with Viktor, I know he had had other women. Of course, I was fifteen and he was eighteen, so there wasn't the sixteen year age gap, but Still, he had a unibrow. And, if there's one thing a woman cannot forgive, it is the Brow. Sirius laughed when I told him that. I remember his laugh.
It was like when you tell a sad person a very funny joke and they laugh. It's as if they haven't been happy in a long time. That's what his laugh was to me. Something happy and pure in its essentials. Even my parents liked him when he was allowed to come into the Muggle world to pick me up and take me to Grimmauld Place. He over the television set in my room, playing with the remote and in awe over the music video channel.
I promised to bring along my CD player and play some rock and roll for him. After all, when he was last in the world, it was early eighties music, and that can be called music. He slipped this diary into my knapsack before we went to Platform 9 3/4 at the end of August last year. In the front, it says,
To Hermione,
Come back soon
With all my love, Sirius
I think he knew about the filched Floo powder. He knew about most things, after all, it was his house.
Occasionally he could be so selfish, so demanding and unfair to that poor House-Elf, Kreacher. I'll admit, Kreacher was a blemish to the name of House-Elf, but Sirius had no right to beat on Kreacher's spirit like that!
It was almost his own fault that he went behind the veil.
I shouldn't say such things. I loved him, after all. I still love him. Every day I wish he was still alive so that we could be together.
Maybe I should end it, but I don't think he would've wanted that. I remember something he said to me, "When loved ones go away, Hermione, it's tough. But we have to roll with the punches, you know? We shouldn't forget them, but neither should we live in the past. I will never forget Lily or James or Gillian, but they're gone and there's no way to get them back. So I'm not going to quibble about that, I'm going to live and love and eventually, go back into the public, get my life back. But even if that doesn't happen, I'll live, Hermione, knowing that after I'm gone, I'll still live on in my friends memories."
His expression, as he said that, was one of earnest, yearning. He told me that, the weekend before. After he said that, I couldn't stay away.
He consumed me. In more ways than one, I think. More than my youth and my, as Mrs. Weasley would say, "innocence", but my mind and my soul and my heart. In a good way, of course. It's not as if he put some sort of spell on me, but they all went into him, and stayed there.
That's a rather poetic way of saying I loved him. In that moment, with that expression on his face, I truly loved him. I'm sure that if I told anyone else this, they'd be bored by the sappiness of this, but I'm fascinated by it. My schoolgirl crush on Ron, which now seems so far away, but was really only a year ago, pales in comparison.
Ron's tried to rekindle it, but I don't think that will ever happen. I don't know if I'll ever feel this way for anyone else.
And for that, I may hate him, to rob me of my heart and then to die. He told me he loved me that night. Afterwards, as he was lying on me, brushing a curl off my face, he kissed the tip of my nose and said it. "I love you." His voice was husky with it and I looked into his eyes, fearing that it wasn't true, that he had used me for this very purpose: to get me into bed.
But when my eyes locked with his, I knew that he could never have lied to me about that. They say that eyes are the windows into the soul. Well, I've looked into the soul of Sirius Black and it was full of love.
June 20, 1996
Today's the first dull day I've had in five days. Ron has stepped up his so-called "flirting" and I've seen Mrs. Weasley giving him tips on 'wooing' me. How thick can you get when you don't realize that "no" means "no!"?
Don't get me wrong, I love Ron, but like a brother, not a lover. I've only had one of those, and I don't want another, though I might someday.
I've been talking to Ginny lately, and confessed what went on with Sirius. She promised not to tell, and I believe her. It's nice to share a room with someone who's interesting and doesn't talk of hair-straightening spells or blemish concealing charms.
She told me she has a bit of a crush on Lupin. I can see why. He's got lovely milk chocolate brown hair and eyes like the sea. The Caribbean Sea, of course, not the Atlantic.
Ugh, all of a sudden I feel sick I think I'm going to-
A bit later on June 20, 1996
I've got a bit of the stomach flu, I think. Mrs. Weasley asked me if I wanted any of the chicken stew left over. I said no, though not because I don't like chicken stew, because it's eight days old and Lupin threatened to short-sheet anyone who ate it without asking him if he wanted any. I, for one, do not want to get on his bad side. The twins pulled a prank on him by putting itching powder in his shorts the other day and today they mysteriously had green hair and skin and Lupin came down looking quite smug, like the cat that ate the canary.
Speaking of cats, I've gotten my books for school and McGonagall's offering a course on Animagi. I'm signing up, of course. I think Sirius would've wanted me to. After all, it's easier to have clandestine meetings when you're both in Animagus form. I remember when he transformed for me, and would run around, barking and snuffling things. I threw balls and sticks for him, and he would lick my hand. I remember once he transformed while he was licking my hand and he was kissing my hand like an old friend. Sometimes I wish I might've died with him, jumped after him, to pull him back or go with him. I've dreamed about him.
Here, I'll write it down:
We were sitting in the living room, on our favorite couch. The only couch we actually got to cuddle on one night. He hand taken my hands in his, and was staring into my eyes.
"You know I love you, don't you, Hermione?" he asked.
"Yes, Sirius, of course. And I love you," I replied, trying to lean onto his shoulder and just lie there with him. He jerked away.
"No more thinking about dying, then," he said, eyes intense as a thunderstorm.
"How did you know?" I asked, feeling puzzled.
"I just do, love," he said comfortingly. "Don't. Eat, too and try not to throw up. Be well. And above all: don't do anything rash. Anything at all, do you hear me? I want you to stay alive, no matter what occurs."
"Sirius, that's from 'Last of the Mohicans'," I said smiling and crying a bit.
"I know," he said seriously. "But it's true. Stay alive. That's what matters. I'm not so far away as you think. I'll always be with you, in one way or another, you hear me?"
I nodded, and he kissed me. Then he pulled away and I woke up in my bed, tears streaming down my face, Ginny staring at me worriedly. I told her to go back to bed. She was already worrying about Lupin and she didn't need to worry about me.
I should go and read now, as I feel a bit unwell again. As I remember the dream, I think I'll wait on taking the stomach-calming potion Mrs. Weasley gave me. I'm not entirely sure if I should.
June 27, 1996
Harry's came back today. Ron and I are quite excited, as this means no more housework. And, of course, Harry's here. But that housework makes me shudder, though I've gotten the easier parts since I've been feeling a bit under the weather.
Harry gave me this huge bear hug and I was enveloped by the scent of his soapthis fruity, spicy scentand I almost threw up my chicken stew (that I had gotten before Lupin found out what was for lunch and grabbed the cauldron, leaving Ron and the twins to have sandwiches; oh, well, "you snooze, you lose," as Fred and George are prone to saying on Dessert Day) all over the back of his robes.
Thankfully Ginny pried him off of me and gave him a short hug before handing him off to Mrs. Weasley, who almost suffocated him, she was squeezing that hard. Harry seems to have almost adopted Lupin, who doesn't look too happy about it, though I don't know, but Ginny isn't happy, either.
She told me, "Honestly, couldn't he go find his own werewolf and leave me to mine?" Ginny's adorable when she talks about Lupin. "Remus," she calls him, and sighs a bit after she says it. It seems almost how I thought about Sirius when we first started talking. The interesting thing is that both of these relationships started with the younger partners talking to the older partners, and forming an adult relationship based on and thoughts.
Hell, Sirius and I didn't even kiss until mid-August. Until then, as Lavender Brown would say, "it was all unresolved sexual tension." Well, the tension stayed there for another few months.
I was in the library today, and Harry came over to "talk".
"Hey, Hermione," he said, a bit bleakly.
"Hi, Harry," I said, smiling at him. "How are you?" I turned the page in A History of the Black Family Tree
"Ginny just told me to bugger off," he said, flicking an imaginary fuzz ball off the arm of the chair.
"What?" I said, marking my page and putting the book down on the side table. "She said that? When?"
"We were in the dining room, eating lunch with Lupin, Fred, George and Ron, and I asked her, once we get to Hogwarts, would she like to go to Hogsmeade with me? And she told me the day she did that, pigs would turn blue and start to perform Shakespeare."
"Ah, so she didn't say 'bugger off'," I replied, starting to pick up my book.
"Oh, no, I asked her again, and then she said, 'If you can't get the meaning of what I just told you, then I'll translate: Bug-ger off.'" He looked a bit miserable.
"Well, Harry," I said reasonably, "she did tell you 'the day I do that, pigs will turn blue and start performing Shakespeare'. I think that's a 'No'. I mean, not to be rude or anything, but you've had your chance, I'm afraid. And now Ginny's moved on."
"Thanks for being so supportive," Harry replied dryly. "I feel so much better, Hermione."
"That's what I'm here for," I said, opening my book again. "Besides, I think she might have a boyfriend, or a potential boyfriend."
"How? She's been here all summer!" Harry exclaimed.
"Maybe he's from school and she's been writing him," I said hastily to cover up my slight error in wording. "I don't know."
He sighed then, and asked me what I was reading. I told him and then he asked me why I was reading that. As I tried not to blush he shrugged and left me alone, which was fine with me. I'm going to start reading again. It's absolutely fascinating.
July 31st, 1996
It's Harry's birthday and he seems quite happy. I mean, I'm happy on my birthday, but Sirius isn't here. He'll never be here again. I wonder if that means I'll never be happy again.
I went into his room for the first time since he died. It still smells the same. Wonderfully crisp, like an autumn day. His cologne is still in the air, a spicy musky scent that fit him perfectly. I walk over to his bedside table to see three framed photos:
One of the pictures was of him, Remus, Lily and James, with a blank spot where Peter was. One of him and Gillian, after they'd been engaged. I look at her and notice she and I looked a bit alike.
She had bushy brownish hair, like mine, and her smile was almost the same, but otherwise we were as different as the sun and the moon. I don't mind, really, if what first attracted Sirius to me was the fact I look a bit like his long-dead fiancée. He got to know me and love me as myself. The last photo is of me, him, Harry and Ron. I remember that day. It was shortly after Harry arrived, and we were sitting in the living room, laughing about somethinga joke Fred had just told, I thinkand Ginny came in and snapped the photo. When she took it, I had been sitting next to Sirius and my head was on his shoulder as I gasped for breath. I took the photo, which might've been wrong, but I don't care. It's sitting on my bedside table, where I stare at Sirius's happy, smiling face for hours, it seems.
Mrs. Weasley says we can't celebrate his birthday today, and 'celebrate' meaning 'go somewhere', since the Death Eaters know his birthday and would be looking for him. Instead, she says, we will go on August 8th.
Lupin looked particularly glum when she said that, though I'm not sure why. I will ask Ginny.
A little bit later on July 31st
Ginny says that August 8 is Lupin's birthday and that he gets depressed around it every year. I asked her how she knew that, and she said he had told her.
I'm beginning to think she might be a little obsessed with him. I mentioned this to her, and she said that she wasn't as obsessed with Remus as I am with Sirius. She has a point. I'll let her be obsessed. After all, it's not like she's a stalker or anything. Mrs. Weasley would notice, then, I think.
Ack, I don't feel well. I'm going to heave in a minute.
August 9, 1996
Ginny was not here last night. I heard Mrs. Weasley going up the stairs to Lupin's room and heard a strangled scream. I do hope that she didn't faint or kill Ginny or Lupin. It doesn't really seem fair that Ginny gets a boyfriend and mine gets sucked through the veil prematurely. I mean, he wasn't even thirty-six! Tomorrow's his birthday, actually. Maybe I'll get to spend the night in his room then, if I'm quiet.
Ginny has just been thrust into the room and Mrs. Weasley is going on and n about pregnancy charms. I've just asked her what one of them is, and she says infinite revel" which I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, me knowing one, I mean. I like children, yes, but how would they affect my life? Our life?
I'm sure Mrs. Weasley would be over the moon (slightly) if I was pregnant with Ron's baby, but anyone else's... I'm not even sure. I think I'll wait until tomorrow, just so it's fitting. He would've wanted it that way, anyway. I just asked Ginny what happened. She says that yesterday he got drunk (since yesterday was his birthday) and she helped him upstairs and then kissed him. And it went from there, she says. I asked her, "Did you do it?" (Why am I being so childish, and not saying the actual word? Sex, sex, sex!) And she says, No. She didn't want to take advantage of him. I think that's hilarious. She didn't want to take advantage of him.
I'm going to go now and get some pickles. Mmm, pickles...
Much later on August 9, 1996
Oh, God, why did I say that? So I went downstairs and I'm in the kitchen, hunting for pickles and Ron, Harry, Ginny, Lupin (who was being watched very closely by Mrs. Weasley), and Tonks were in there and Ron comes over and says, "Hermione, can I ask you something personal?"
So I'm rooting in the icebox, and I find pickles, and I'm thinking 'Yes! Pickles!' and I say,
"Sure, Ron, go ahead."
And he asks, of all things, "Are you a virgin?"
I pause, pickle halfway to my mouth and say, "Why would you ask me that?"
He turns slightly red. "I just, er, was wondering. Well, are you?"
"Do you want to know Ron?" I ask. "That's rather personal."
"Oh, c'mon, Hermione, you can tell me," he coaxes.
"Fine," I said shortly, biting off a hunk of pickle. "I'm not. Happy?"
I hear a crash and see Mrs. Weasley on the ground, fainted dead away, and Ginny's giggling, Lupin looks a bit nauseous, and Tonks remarks, "I didn't need to know that." Harry's waves smelling salts underneath Mrs. Weasley's nose and she wakes up and stares at me like I've got five eyes and feelers coming out of my nose.
Fred, George and Bill walk in then. "What's the matter?" Bill asks.
Tonks, being tactless says, "Hermione's not a virgin." Bill turns purple, like Ron, and Fred and George come over to ask me whom I did the dirty deed with. I told them to bugger off and came upstairs with the pickles.
I'm now counting the minutes to midnight. It's ten forty-five right now.
August 10, 1996
I fell asleep last night around eleven twenty-eight. Though I woke up for a moment when Ginny snuck out to do what ever she does with Lupin.
Day old pickles are quite nice, actually. I'm munching on one- Oops! A bit of pickle juice got on the page.
Anyway, today would've been Sirius's thirty-sixth birthday. I remember what I got him last year: a hickey and a few bites. I remember Lupin asking him about it and Sirius told him to mind his own neckline, please.
I'm taking deep breaths and thanking God that Grimmauld Place is somewhere I can perform magic while not in school, though I'll only do it this once. I was reading about the spell in a book in the library yesterday, and it takes five minutes to find out, and it glows
pink if you are, and blue if you aren't.
Okay, I just cast it. Oh, I'm crouched on the toilet in Ginny's and my bathroom, hoping to Heaven no one knocks.
If I am, what should I name it? How would I take care of it? I suppose once it was proved to be Sirius's it would inherit everything. You know, last of the family, genetically proven to be a match to Sirius's DNA. Right now I'm thinking of what kind of a Mum I'm going to be.
Will I be the 'Cool' Mum? Or the 'smart' Mum? I don't know.
Oh, it's glowing! It's pink. Oh, my God.
I'm pregnant.
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A/N: Thanks for reading, I'll try to update sometime soon! Please, please review!
