After lunch, Harry went to the Weasleys'. Hermione and Sirius talked for a long time, Hermione telling Sirius all that had happened while he was gone. He had so much to catch up with. For Hermione, being with Sirius again, talking to him, felt intoxicating, and Sirius seemed to feel the same, never getting tired of asking her about her life and her projects.

It was only quite late in the evening, when they remained silent for a while, that Herlione realized how exhausted Sirius looked. When she had last seen him in the Death Chamber, her mind had registered, as busy as she was, that he was even thinner than when she had last seen him, after the attack against Arthur Weasley. And the three years beyond the Veil hadn't changed anything to his appearance. He was still emaciated, with dark shadows under his eyes, the legacy of a constant lack of sleep.

"It's late", she said. "You had quite a taxing day, to say the least. What about having some rest ?"

There was a flash in Sirius's grey eyes, so brief that she could have doubted it had been there. Was it fear ? But Hermione knew Sirius enough to be sure that if it was fear, he would never say a word about it. And suddenly, she thought she understood. How would she feel is she had been through all what Sirius had ? Wouldn't she fear that if she fell asleep, she wouldn't ever wake up, or worse, would wake up in an Azkaban cell, all the rest having been a dream ? And so she said :

"You could lay down a bit on the bed in my study while I write my report for the Mysteries Department. It's due for tomorrow, she added, lying. That way, you could keep me company while I work."

He smiled, the slight tension in his shoulders relaxing at once.

"All right", he said." I'll try to keep quiet not to disturb you. How long must that report be ? You should have told me about it sooner. You need some rest too."

"Don't worry, it won't be long."

Hermione began to write her report quietly. The only noise in the room was that of her quill on the parchment. From time to time she looked up, smiling at Sirius who smiled back. She realized that she could easily get used to such domestic peace.

She focused on her work for a while, to give Sirius the opportunity to fall asleep, and after a while she heard his breath becoming deep and regular. She paused a long time, watching him. She still couldn't believe that she had succeeded, that he was there, with her. In his sleep, he looked younger, his handsome features at rest, all his suffering forgotten for a while.

She remembered suddenly the first time she had watched him sleep, and how far he had been from such a peaceful expression.

August 1995, 12 Grimmauld Place.

Hermione didn't sleep well that summer. She worried about Harry, she worried about her parents, who were defenseless if Voldemort decided to target them. And the house's oppressive atmosphere didn't help. She decided to pick a book in the library and read a little before getting back to bed.

Using her wand as a light source, she made her way downstairs and opened the door of the library. She was about to cross the room to reach the myth section (the Blacks had all sort of books about the Wizarding world's oldest tales and traditions) when she realized she wasn't alone in the room.

Laying on the couch was Sirius. He semed asleep, and yet his face was contorted in an heartbreaking expression of anguish and suffering. He was shivering, and suddenly his lips let out such a painful moan that Hermione, instinctively, moved to his side and put a comforting hand on his brow, icy cold under her touch. He quieted down almost immediately, the crease on his brow smoothing, his features losing their desperate expression, leaving Hermione both befuddled and deeply moved.

Was that all it took ? One small gesture, a bit of contact could be enough ? But how long was it since Sirius had experienced any kind of comforting touch ? He had spent 12 years in solitary confinement, aggravated by the Dementors' presence around him. Then he'd been on the run for one year, in an almost complete solitude as well. And even in here, in his own house, he was somehow isolated from the others by his tragic past, by his situation as a fugitive, by the shadows still hanging over him. Remus Lupin's occasional presence did some good, but their relationship seemed to be a little strained. In fact, only Harry's presence was be able to make disappear the ever present loneliness in Sirius's eyes.

That night, Hermione pondered for a long time over the tragic waste that had been Sirius' once so promising life. Now that she lived in the nightmarish house that had been his only home as a child, now that she realized, from her portrait, what kind of mother Walburga Black had been, she wondered how Sirius could have become the unprejudiced, caring person he was, someone who in his youth had decided to risk everything to help a friend that his parents would have considered the scum of the earth.

And yet, how loveless and harsh his childhood must have been ! She wondered how he could have developed his sense of fun, the warm-hearted nature and infectious smile that were his, and still appeared from time to time. But now here he was, back in a place full of only dark memories, Mrs Black's demeaning rantings adding to the ever present guilt he felt for James's death.

It seemed that there was never any kind of justice for him.

She already admired him because of the way he had faced the Werewolf she had still difficulties identifying as Lupin, risking death, or capture by the Dementors if he was hurt, to protect Harry, Ron and herself. She also remembered how he had spent months in a cave, living on rats, to watch over Harry, on the year of the Triwizard Tournament. Now, what she felt for him was a mix of compassion and admiration.

It was in Hermione's nature to empathize with any kind of suffering, and to try and remedy any kind of unfair situation. From that night on, she spent more time with Sirius, trying to lighten his mood by talking him about Harry's success at Hogwarts, and about all their adventures together. Sirius, in turn, took obvious interest in her, and they spent many evenings talking about any kind of subjects, from Hermione's life in her Muggle surroundings, before she received her letter, to their taste in books and music.

She enjoyed talking to him, and didn't feel awkward about opening up so much to an adult. Being an only child, and very mature for her age, she often felt out of sync with the people her age. Even Ron and Harry seemed childish to her at times. The only thing she and Sirius didn't get along about was the way he treated Kreacher. But Hermione knew that Sirius couldn't always control the frustration that led him to vent against the one being who was, for him, the embodiment of all the dark memories he had in this house. And the only thing they very seldom discussed was, precisely, Sirius's past, or his current condition. Hermione would have liked him to open up a bit about it, but he obviously thought that she wasn't the person he would choose to burden with his problems.

Fortunately the Black library was extensive, especially on the subject of Dark Magic. Hermione didn't have much difficulty in finding a book dealing with the side effects of long-term exposure to Dementors, especially the damage done to sleep cycles. The Dementors's dark influence slipped into the mind, including in sleep, when it was particularly vunerable. Even after one was no longer exposed to them, some kind of stain was left, the imprint of their magic in the subconscious, for many years. That long lasting psychological damage, at night, manifested itself as sequences of horrid nightmares preying on the person's worst memories and fears.

Hermione was sure that Sirius had read the book and was perfectly aware of his situation. Yet he hadn't told anyone about what he was going through every night . She decided to watch over him. He spent most of his nights in the library, maybe because he disliked all the gloomy bedrooms of the house, or because he needed a wider space after having been locked up in a tiny cell for so long. So Hermione took to the habit of checking on him, and when the nightmares began, generally quite early in the night, she whispered comforting words, laid a hand on his shoulder or his brow until he would calm down.

She was aware that she was trespassing the boundaries of his pride, and she knew that he'd probably be very uncomfortable if he realized what she was doing for him, night after night. But fortunately, he never woke up when she was with him, and she had the satisfation of seeing that after a while, he actually looked less exhausted, less haunted than he used to. He even gained a bit more weight.

Their friendship grew, and his eyes began to light up when she arrived, as they did with Harry. Sometimes, she chided herself for having a crush on her best friend's godfather, a man old enough to be her father. But her heart replied that it was not a crush, but deep concern and caring. It was no fault of hers if Sirius' charm added another dimension to what had been, at first, a move made out of pure compassion, and then developed into an unexpected, compelling friendship.

All this ended, of course, when she went back to Hogwarts. But she resumed her habits when they came back for Christmas. On that occasion, she got better acquainted with the Sirius of before James' death and before Azkaban, as his infectious cheerfulness, his sense of humor that was never far away, even at his lowest, filled the house with lighthearted moments. But as the moment they'd have to go back to Hogwarts got closer, she saw his newfound joy of life withering like a leaf faced with the approach of winter.

When they came back to Grimmauld place, after the attack against Mr Weasley, she realized he was drinking sometimes, and her concern grew. Fred Weasley's unfair words about his hiding away from danger, after all the taunting from Snape on the same subject, hadn't helped either. Hermione had known that he was bound to do something reckless.

After Sirius had fallen beyong the Veil, Hermione had probably been as devastated as Harry. But her friend, lost in his own sorrow, hadn't noticed anything. Ron had, but he hadn't commented, probably explaining her reaction with her « over-emotional nature », as he described it sometimes. Fortunately, it was only a few days after Sirius' death that Dumbledore had told her about the formula. It had been hard to wait for the end of the war before starting the research. And it had been hard, as well, not to tell Harry about it. But Hermione had known that Dumbledore was right to say that it would dangerously distract Harry from focusing on Voldemort's threat, and give him hopes that could be crushed, should the formula remain untraceable.

Hermione smiled at the memory of Harry's happiness and sighed contently. Everything would be all right now. After covering Sirius' sleeping form with a quilt, she turned off the light and went to her room for a bit of well deserved rest.

Some parts of this chapter are inspired from 'The Light at the End', from Pelespen on Archives of our Own. If you like Hermione/Sirius fics you should read it. It's great !