Matches

[Hermione closed her eyes briefly, not quite able to believe him, "I said nothing stupid, and now you want to burn something?"]

"Harry Potter, Auror Office, Ministry of Magic," Hermione called before her head swirled through the flames once more.

Harry's spacious office looked the way it always did from this angle; large imposing mahogany desk, its feet sunk deep into the thick purple carpet. The legs of his visitor's chair closest to the fire were lighter wood, chipped a little around the base. And there were filing boxes stacked on the floor, next to his desk, he never seemed to get all the way through them.

"Harry?" she called. "I need to talk to you."

"Hermione!" Harry's surprised voice responded from out of sight before he came into view, a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other. There were ink stains all over his fingers and on the right cuff of the white shirt he wore. He barely ever wore his auror uniform these days. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he came to kneel at the fire, "I'm sorry about the Prophet – " he started.

Hermione didn't have time for the English papers and their rubbish today. To be fair, she didn't ever have time for their rubbish.

"Harry," she cut him off. "Something unbelievable happened on my way to the Delacours. I need your help."

"What happened? Are you okay?" he was clearly concerned, but didn't seem able to help himself and added, "I told you it was stupid to drive. You're as bad as Teddy with his bloody iPhone."

"I'm fine," she said. Harry was one of the only people who actually worried about her, but sometimes it was a bit much. "And I won't have any anti-muggle rhetoric from you, Auror Potter," she teased, pretending to be stern. "Teddy's phone is very useful, he'd never get all that YouTube in without it," she added slyly, knowing this would get a rise out of him.

Harry laughed, and shook his head. "The weird shite that boy watches, yesterday at lunch he was watching someone else play a video game, I don't get it."

"No, neither do I," Hermione sighed. "But seriously Harry, I'm going to tell you something mad, please just remember that it's me you're talking to, okay? I am absolutely, one hundred percent sure this is the truth."

"Okay…" he said slowly, all humour gone as his eyes widened behind his glasses, looking possibly frightened over her sanity. Maybe he should be.

She took a breath and said, "I nearly hit Sirius Black with my car when he fell out of the sky. He had a time turner and he came from Nineteen Eighty-one."

"Fuck off," Harry burst out laughing. "Very funny."

"No, really," she said earnestly.

"But, people can't travel forward in time," he said, frowning at her.

"Turns out there is quite a lot we don't know about that," Hermione said. "Regardless of how or why, I've got a battered twenty-one year old Sirius sitting on the Delacour's sofa. And the time turner he arrived with is broken."

"Fuck off," Harry said again. But his humour had morphed to disbelief.

"Indeed," said Hermione. "But I've thought of a solution, remember Theodore Nott? Well the time turner he built actually works, it's in the DoM. If you get it, we can send Sirius back with it."

"Er, hold on," Harry was looking rather stunned. "He's really there? Like alive, and young?"

"Very much so," Hermione said, wanting to smile as his recent sofa leaping popped back into her head.

"And you want to send him back?"

"Well he can't stay here."

"But…" Harry said slowly, "We could tell him how to stop Voldemort, he could… I don't know, get all the horcruxes… we can save my parents!"

She should have known he'd think like this. Hemione paused for a moment, trying to decide whether emotion or fact was the best base for her argument. It only took a second. This was her best friend, heart-on-his-sleeve Harry, appealing to his sentimental side was the way to go.

"No, we can't Harry," she began seriously. "Saving your parents will change the whole world. We'll lose everything we have now – "

"But it will be – " Harry interrupted, but she stopped him firmly.

"We'll lose our kids, Harry," she pressed gently. "We'll lose everything we've worked for, saving your parents wouldn't stop Voldemort, he could end up better off, we don't know what it will do."

"But – "

"Harry, we're here now," she placated. "Life's good, right?"

"Yes," he sighed, defeated but content. Hermione knew he really couldn't be happier with his lot; a job he loved and a wife who shared so many of his passions, namely Quidditch and making babies. It was the fulfilling life he'd always wanted. He smiled at her. "Did you know Ginny wants another baby?"

"I thought you were done with three?" Hermione said, wondering why they were talking about this when there was the rather pressing matter of out of time Sirius Black. She could practically feel his eyes burning into her back as she knelt on the hearth.

"Four if you count Teddy," Harry corrected, still smiling. "I do like babies though."

"Well, you might not have any if we don't send Sirius back," Hermione snapped, his happiness never failed to make her jealous. It was petty and small but she just couldn't help it. "He has to go back so that things can happen as they are supposed to."

"But what about him, his life?" Harry asked, his forehead furrowing. "He's probably the worst affected of the lot."

"I know," she acknowledged sadly, realising that she had read her old friend wrong this time, it would have to be facts to convince him after all. "The thing is Harry, he must go back and not change anything because otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Whatever he did, he always did, it's our past."

"Wouldn't he have told us then?" Harry asked, doubtfully. "Wouldn't he have known that he'd meet us in the future?"

"I don't know, but we need to send him back, the sooner the better."

"Okay," he agreed, accepting her decision as she'd known he would in the end. "So how am I getting this time turner?"

She gave him an awkward grimace. "I just thought you could go in and say, 'I'm Harry Potter, give me the time turner.' What do you think?"

Harry laughed. "Right, easy as that, you reckon?"

"It probably will be," she said. "Madam Lincoln likes you, and it turns out she knew your grandfather, so maybe you could break the ice with that?" He nodded thoughtfully before she continued. "Then bring it here, I'm going to block the floo though, so apparate alright?"

"Why are you blocking the floo?" Harry asked.

"To keep him in," she admitted. "I'm scared he's going to try and escape. I've got his wand, but…"

Harry gave her a wide-eyed look that suggested she was overreacting. "Okay, well it might be a couple of days, because I'd like to come and stay, not just pop in, so I need to get this audit out of the way first. And I'll need to figure out the best way to get the time turner."

"That's okay,'' Hermione said, wondering if this was what it was like for her family when she always put work before everything else. What on earth would she do with Sirius for a few days? She couldn't just keep him tied up.

"Alright, I'll go and get started," Harry said. "And look - don't worry about the Prophet, we knew it was going to come out eventually."

"What was?" Hermione asked, still thinking about how she was going to contain Sirius.

"The story," Harry said, frowning at her, like she should know. "Ron and Padma."

"What?" Harry was right, she should have known. They'd been waiting for something to leak for months, "When did that happen?"

"Just this morning, he's already talked to the kids, he went round to The Burrow as soon as we found out, they're okay."

"Right, well, they do like Padma," she said, her heart beating quickly. Her kids had taken the separation pretty well, but she remembered how it felt when Rita Skeeter had been writing about her in fourth year and she didn't want her kids to feel like that. Not that the Prophet would go after her children, or at least she didn't think they would. "I'm so glad they weren't at school, that wouldn't have been nice for them."

She was pleased that Ron had gone to talk to them and not just left them to see it in the paper. Obviously they both already knew that Ron and Hermione were separated, and Rose had been a bit difficult at the start, but now with Padma in Ron's life, Rose seemed to be coping very well. The two of them got along better than Hermione ever had with her daughter. She tried not to let her envy of their easy relationship show.

"I'm glad he talked to them. I'll write to the kids tonight, how's Ron?"

Harry gave a little sigh. "Pissed off. But it's been nearly a year, even he knows they had a pretty good run. Got the kids used to it and everything."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. She sighed too, and then asked the question she didn't really want to know the answer to. "So, what did they say about me?"

"Same shit,'' Harry said shortly, his annoyance coming back. "Workaholic, overbearing, you know, they aren't kind. Don't pay attention to it."

She did know. Worst thing was it was true. "No theroising?" she asked. "Hints of adultery?"

"No, I don't think that would go with the image of you they are trying to build," he scowled, Harry loathed the press. "I gave them a quote, that's how we found out it was going to print. They floo'd me early, before I'd even left for work, asking for a comment."

Hermione nodded, this had always been the plan. "What did you say?"

"Just that you and Ron had been living separate lives for a year, and that you were still very good friends and colleagues."

"Thanks Harry," she said with feeling. "I know you hate talking to them. But they wouldn't believe it from anyone else."

"Alright," he said, suddenly brisk. "I've got this audit thing happening tomorrow, but I'll head down to the DoM afterwards and figure out the best way to get that time turner. I suppose you're going to say I shouldn't meet him?"

Hermione smiled, thinking that he probably shouldn't, but who was she to decide that? "I don't know, I'm not the boss. I'm just the one who picked him up off the road. I'm sure seeing you would be very nice for him though, someone a bit familiar."

Harry nodded. "Brilliant! See you in a couple of days."

"There must be wine in this house somewhere," Hermione muttered in agitation. She was on her hands and knees in the kitchen looking in the back of the pantry. "We're in France."

"Ah–ha!" She pulled out a dark, unlabeled bottle in triumph, and was pleased to see there were three more on the floor in the darkest corner. She held it up to the light, the green glass made the liquid inside look black.

Promising.

She was just twisting the cork free when Sirius came into the room, his hands still bound, but his sullen expression lifted at the sight of the wine bottle. Maybe they had more in common than Hermione thought.

"Pour me a glass?" He asked hopefully. "Please? If you're going to hold me captive the least you could do is get me drunk."

Hermione did as he asked. It did seem unnecessarily cruel. Wine was for everybody. Especially in France.

"Why are you so desperate for a drink?'' he asked, awkwardly picking up his glass with his bound hands and bringing it to his mouth to take a rather large gulp, like a scruffy parody of a parishioner taking communion. She hadn't planned on telling him, but honestly, she was feeling so annoyed at the whole situation. It just burst out of her.

"Because The Prophet has just found out I'm in the middle of a divorce and my husband already has a girlfriend."

"Oh," he made an uncomfortable face. "That sounds pretty shit."

"That's one way to describe it," Hermione agreed flatly.

"I suppose they would take notice of department heads at the Ministry," he said thoughtfully. "Everyone likes a bit of political scandal."

"Hmmm," Hermione said. Not wanting to get into the fact that she was a celebrity long before she started working for the Ministry.

He was quiet for a moment, and Hermione wondered what he was thinking about as he frowned at her. "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"I don't know," she was surprised by the question. He seemed to be genuinely baffled by her singledom. "I'm too busy I suppose?" she suggested.

He took another awkward drink with his tied hands and Hermione tutted, she'd probably regret it, but he really didn't seem like he was going to attack her to get his wand back. "If I untie you, do you promise you won't do anything stupid?"

This comment drew an incredulous, and possibly amused, lift of his eyebrow. "And here you said you knew me once."

She pressed her lips together to stop herself smiling, a smile would certainly undermine the authority she was trying to maintain. "I just mean, I'm not giving your wand back, not until we have a real plan. If you accept that, then I'll untie you."

"Okay." he said, with an easy grin. "Are there any matches here?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, not quite able to believe him. "I said nothing stupid, and now you want to burn something?"

"No," he looked at her like she was the crazy one. "I want a fag," he explained, "I'm fucking gasping."

"Oh," a strange little fluttering laugh found its way out of her mouth, amused by him. Her illusion of authority was crumbling. She removed the rope around his wrists and he immediately put his hand in his back pocket to retrieve a crushed packet of cigarettes.

"You can't smoke in here," she said at once, as she watched him put a cigarette to his lips, absently thinking that she didn't know anyone who smoked any more. She found him some matches next to the fireplace, and then watched him through the window as he stood in a shady spot on the lawn under the big ash tree.

"Are you just going to stare at me?" He called to her, as she took a fortifying gulp of red wine. The glass was half gone already, she thought it was merlot, she'd always liked that better than the others. This particular bottle was quite nice, or it was the more she drank anyway.

She held up her wand, and called back. "I'm not staring, I'm guarding."

He shrugged, and sat down on the grass, lazing there, looking up at the tree swaying above him, the summer sky perfect in its clear blue. She was staring now she realised with a jolt, watching the way his T-shirt pulled tight across his chest as he leaned back, the sleeves clung too, showing a defined bicep.

Hermione blinked and looked away. "Twenty one, you perv," she scolded herself. She threw back the last of her wine and refilled the glass, deciding that joining him outside would be more appropriate than standing here ogling him.

It was much cooler in the deep shade cast by the tree. She sat on the grass and leaned her back against the trunk, crossing her legs at the ankles. A summer afternoon in the shade with a glass of wine, the day could definitely be going worse. She had a plan to get him home, and the comforting back up that she still remembered meeting him in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago, so whatever they were doing was the right thing.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was still looking up at the sky, but there was no amusement in his face anymore. In fact, there was a strange aura of melancholy that radiated from him as he watched the tree branches sway.

"Are you alright?" she asked before she really thought about it. He was probably quite nervous, here in a different time; no certainly, no purpose.

"Fine," he said after a moment, eyes coming to hold hers again. It took a few seconds for that darkness to leave them. However, once it did it was replaced by a twinkle that made her rather nervous.

"So if you're getting a divorce," he began, in a faux pensive tone. "And you've got no boyfriend, it must be awhile since you had a decent shag."

She should have known, the classic attack of the defensive male, Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "I would say that's none of your business," she replied dryly. Wondering what he'd been thinking about before to make him want to change the subject so dramatically.

"A whole year?" He guessed, his mouth curling up, eyes wicked. "Or more?"

"Once again, not your business," she said firmly. It was more like three, but honestly, who asked things like that? He was just trying to wind her up. She had nearly run him over she supposed, maybe this was his revenge, as well as a distraction technique.

"Well," he took an affected casual sip from his glass, and said breezily. "Just let me know if I can do anything to help."

Hermione just stared at him, did he really just say that? He was smiling, all too confidently. She wanted to jinx him. Then he was clambering to his feet, wine still in hand before he threw back the last of it, and grinned down at her once more. "Where can I find a towel? I'd like a shower before we eat."

"Cupboard in the hall," she said. "Make it a cold one," she muttered in annoyance.

She watched him go back inside feeling decidedly uncomfortable with this whole situation. What would Harry say if she told him that this young Sirius had propositioned her, even if it was a joke? It was just plain weird.

He came back into the sitting room twenty minutes later just as she'd re-entered the house, thinking about making dinner. He was wearing nothing but a towel, and Hermione pointedly averted her gaze.

"Put some clothes on," she said, annoyed at herself for actually wanting to look. She hadn't seen a stomach like that in years, flat and defined, and –

Yes. She definitely needed to look somewhere else.

"I am about to," he muttered. "I left my bag out here." He had too, the backpack she'd found on the roadside was still sitting at the end of the couch.

"Oh, right," she felt a bit bad for implying exibitionisim, although she still thought it was well within his character.

But then he spoke again, and she regretted her sympathy as he proved her right. "You can look, you know," he said, leadingly. "I don't mind."

"Will you stop it?" She snapped, annoyed. She should probably just laugh it off, but it was making her feel awkward and strange. She really didn't like how much she wanted to look at him.

"What? I'm just trying to help," Sirius said innocently. He was impossible. Hermione scowled at her nearly empty glass rather than responding.

"Sex is a much healthier coping mechanism than alcohol," he went on. "That's your third glass in an hour."

Judgmental bastard, she thought, but when she spoke, her intended unruffled tone came across as sad. "Sirius, I'm twice your age, cut it out."

"Your loss,'' he said quietly, taking his bag back to the bathroom.

A/N: It's a long weekend here, I thought you might like two new chapters. Also, I've hit a wall further down the track and need the motivation!