Chapter Three

She didn't dare so much as a glance over her shoulder for the room she left behind, or the wizard whose dark eyes had driven her flight, but climbed purposefully the soft, carpeted steps of the staircase that would carry her away from the source of her unease.

He always had had that affect on her, she reflected. Could she recall a time when his gaze hadn't left her feeling so exposed, convinced he saw- saw, and dismissed- all her cleverness and supposed maturity for what it really was- a poor attempt at disguising the fact that the bossy little bookworm Harry and Ron so relied on to always have the answer, was really just winging it like the rest of them?

She was being foolish, of course. It wasn't that she didn't credit him as shrewd enough to see past her front, but that he had simply never bothered to look in the first place. The brief, uncomfortable conversation replayed itself in her mind and she wondered that after years of silly adolescent longings for him to notice her as something other than his godson's clever friend, the fulfillment of those very wishes would be so… undesirable.

Now she wanted nothing more than to fade back into obscurity, safe from haunting grey eyes and questions she couldn't answer.

She entered her room and sighed once, decided that to be enough indulgence in such melodrama, and pushed all ponderings on her relationship with her best friend's god-father to the furthest recesses of her mind. In a war torn world, there simply wasn't time for teenage angst.

Her bag, containing both the ingredients from the previous night's activities as well as the collection of notes amassed during the weeks of research leading up to it, lay propped up against her desk, where it had been forgotten while she attended to the more pressing matters at hand. Now she reached for it, intending to tidy up and transfer her notes to a safer place, but was stopped by the sudden instance of vertigo. Her hands found the surface of the desk and she braced herself against it.

"What's wrong?"

Quicker then she could have imagined, he was by her side, guiding her into her desk chair. None too gently, he grasped her chin in one large hand and maneuvered her face into the light streaming in from the open window, she assumed to check her pupils. The dizziness had all but receded and she swatted his hand away.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired." She avoided his eyes, embarrassed. "Did you come up here for a reason?"

"I don't think you're fine." He ignored her question, and her protestations. "We need to get you checked out. What were you thinking messing with magic like that? Do you know-"

"We've had this conversation already. I really don't think there's anything more that needs to be said. As for getting checked out, I agree with you. Which is why after Professor Lupin is brought up to date, he'll be able to arrange for both of us to have a thorough examination." Her tone allowed no room for disagreement, but internally she was more than a little nervous. She hadn't really thought this far ahead. For so long her only thought had been how to bring him back, now he was here and she wasn't entirely sure what to do with him. Professor Lupin had become her answer, in part because of his history with Sirius, and in part because he simply always had been her answer. Before, he had often asked her to drop the 'professor' from his title, it had been years since he performed that particular occupation, but she never could bring herself to do it. In her memory, he would be forever immortalized as her favorite teacher, and one of the few people she turned to for help.

"He doesn't know, then. He doesn't know what you did."

"No, he doesn't. But if you had seen him- if you had seen all of them after it happened, after you" the word died in her throat, "I couldn't do that to them. I couldn't give them hope incase it didn't work."

"You didn't want to disappoint them, or you didn't want them to try and stop you?" His eyes met hers, challenging. She looked away and his features softened. "Hermione, I know you were doing what you thought was right- but it wasn't. If I came back, it'd only make things worse." Her eyes flew back to his, a question forming on her lips. "That's why you can't tell them what you've done."

"No." She shook her head, "No. No, that's not right. Sirius, whatever else you think, they need you." She had leapt to her feet sometime after his revelation, and her head was suddenly swimming again. She fought it off, refusing to consider anything other than the man in front of her. "After everything, how could you turn your back on them? How could you even think of just walking away?"

Whatever Sirius's response might have been may never be known, as the young witch paled even further before collapsing in his arms.

Had Hermione been conscious, and possessed of a less compassionate sort of nature, she might have felt slightly vindicated at the extreme worry her sudden fainting spell caused the older wizard.

However, Hermione wasn't, in fact conscious, and being so, was unaware of his concern. She was also unaware of the gentle manner in which he laid her on the bed, or of the hand that carefully –almost lovingly- swept aside the hair that had fallen across her face. Had she witnessed the tenderness displayed, she might have been able to rest easier. As it was, she stirred herself sometime after, her eyes immediately searching the darkened room for a sign of the man who haunted her dreams. Finding none, and fearing her weakness had allowed him the chance to flee unopposed, she quickly –too quickly, her head protested, and was ignored- sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had barely stood up when a familiar figure darkened her doorway.

"Sirius." She breathed his name on a sigh of relief. "You didn't leave."

"You shouldn't be up." He ignored her statement and crossed to where she stood. She could only stare mutely at him as he helped her back into bed, his previous gentleness forgotten. She grasped one of his wrists as he started to withdraw, and found her voice.

"Stay." Her eyes met his, silently pleading.

"You need to rest now." He tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened.

"Promise me you'll stay."

"Hermione, I…"

She heard the unspoken words and dropped her hand. Tears threatened her vision and she bit her lip, trying to control her emotions, and failing that, fighting to hold it in until he left. She suddenly felt the part of a little girl; certain that was how she appeared to him. But she couldn't let him walk away.

"Please, Sirius, I can't lose you again."

He sighed, frustrated, but the battle was won.

"Go to sleep, Hermione. I'll be here when you wake up."