Spell Shock

["I dunno. Eat? Watch films?" The corner of his mouth pulled up as he finished his sentence. "Shag you?"]

Hermione woke to an empty bed the next morning. It was quite late judging by the bright morning light coming in the doors in her room. It was still outside, she could hear the lazy cicada songs and the occasional bird call as she lay there.

Her mind immediately went to the night before, and how she was really excelling in the field of recklessness right now. Not that she regretted anything, she just knew it wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done. Fun though.

She wondered if Harry would arrive that day, his audit should be over with by now. The team from standards and record keeping never spent more than a day in each office, and Harry always got through easily. She had half a mind to floo him and check on his progress, just to see if he'd already been down to the DoM, and if they would need to come up with a new plan to get the time turner. But she thought better of it, she was loath to admit it, even to herself, but she quite liked having Sirius all to herself, no need to hurry Harry along.

After ten minutes of lying in bed, listening to the quiet house, and the peaceful summer morning outside, Hermione began to wonder what Sirius was doing. She couldn't hear the television, or any noises from the kitchen. For the briefest moment, uncertainty crept into her mind, had he run off after all? Had last night just been a distraction, to trick her into thinking she could trust him?

Her uncertainty was quickly shoved aside by her recollections of the previous evening, and there was low curling heat in her belly as she remembered him straddling her hips, his lips on her skin, and his apparent affinity for making her come. It had almost been too efficient, excellent , but a bit mechanical, like he was too focused on the goal, and not the journey.

She supposed it wasn't romance she asked him for though, just release. He'd called it a rebound shag when they had sat in the car in the pouring rain. That probably did sum it up, although she wasn't on the rebound, not really. She was definitely still mourning the loss of the life she and Ron should have shared, but she didn't want him back. She didn't particularly want anyone in her life like that. She wondered if this made her strange.

Sirius himself was quite possibly in no emotional state to do anything more than the straightforward quest for orgasam. He was clearly still grieving for Marlene, still dreading the life he was going to return to. He was obviously suffering with some kind of trauma after yesterday's strange episode outside the bottle shop. She wondered if she could get him to talk about it.

Hermione left the bedroom, pulling one of Fleur's thin summer robes on over her pyjamas, and went in search of coffee and Sirius. The house was quiet, all the windows were open though and the smell of the summer air, no longer wet and thick like yesterday, was wafting refreshingly through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

Sirius wasn't smoking out on the lawn, nor was he in the sitting room. She filled the kettle and set it to boil and as she did so she heard the tell tale sounds of tinkering coming from the buanderie. She poked her head in the door to see him working on his bike. He had his mug of coffee with him and was dressed in Bill's baggy clothes from yesterday.

"Morning," he said chirpily when he noticed her watching him. He had his right hand down inside the engine cavity and a little row of nuts balanced on a wide flat part of the frame that would normally have been under the seat. The seat itself was on the floor next to the wheels.

"How's it going?" She asked, pleased to see him happy.

"Nearly done," he said, clearly in an excellent mood. There was an infectious excitement in his expression as he lifted his eyebrows temptingly, and added. "Be able to take it for a test ride later."

"How long have you been up for?" She asked, surprised by the progress.

"Wee while," he paused and his eyes dropped back to the frame, watching whatever it was his hand was doing in there, then he continued cautiously. "Had a weird night, decided this was a better use of my time. Harry might come today right?"

"He might, I was thinking about flooing him," Hermione replied. An unpleasant floating doubt in the back of her mind made her ask. "You had a weird night?"

"Ha! No, not that," Sirius flashed her a quick grin, his eyes suddenly back to cheerful, just for a second. "I had a moment, thing , woke up and didn't know where I was." He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, as if remembering something unpleasant.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Hermione asked. She'd been right there, surely talking to someone would have made him feel better?

"Why would I?" he looked confused, defensive even.

"Because … well, I thought …" she stumbled over the words, not really knowing how to explain that she felt … hurt? She wanted to say ' because I thought you trusted me, because I thought there was something a bit more going on here…' but no, she couldn't say either of those. She took a breath. "I think you're suffering from Spell Shock."

"No shit," he muttered, without looking up.

Hermione blinked, taken aback by his sudden shortness. "Have you seen someone about it then?"

He sighed, sharp eyes flicking up to her briefly, like a warning. "Just Dumbledore, he seemed to think it was nothing to worry about, but that was before."

"Before?" she pressed. He could be as taciturn as he liked, she thought, as she perched herself on the edge of the big old fashioned copper boiler, but he wouldn't put her off this. Especially not if Dumbledore was brushing it aside, leaving Sirius to contend with it alone.

He glanced at her again, longer this time and less prickly, but it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it. She was determined to try and help him. If she could make the last bit of life he had left better, that would give this weird time travel event a purpose.

Sirius sighed. Realising that she wasn't going to let him gloss over it, he stood upright, wiping dirty hands on his trusty rag. Hermione had a sudden flashback to when he'd done that yesterday and what had happened after. She had to bite down a smile, not appropriate to be daydreaming when she was trying to get him to open up about something so serious. He didn't come closer this time, instead he leaned against the opposite bench. He was holding a little silver bolt and nut that seemed to be stuck together and he was focused on getting them apart as he started to speak.

"It's been happening since the first really big fight I was in, I don't think we'd been out of school for more than a week. It was summer; I remember the night was warm because I was soaked with sweat by the time it was over," he looked up at her, but she didn't speak. She'd learnt that about him already, if she waited he would eventually say what was on his mind. He swallowed rather noisily before he continued, "Voldemort turned up, scared the shit out of us, and he nearly got James, or he did get him, but it was just luck that the curse hadn't been an AK."

His eyes were far away now, the little bolt in his hands forgotten as he stared into space. No doubt remembering the fear and confronting reality of seeing his best friend struck down by Voldemort.

"I had to carry him out, over my shoulder, because I needed my wand to fight. There were so many injuries, I'll never forget –," he cut off with a shudder, and looked right at her, the haunted shadow was back, hiding the bright man she had gotten used to.

"I know," she nodded. "You don't need to tell me. We lost so many towards the end of the war. The violence will be with me forever." Her mind's eye was suddenly filled with the rows of bodies in the Great Hall, of exploding masonry and then Ron's wretched cry as he saw Fred's lifeless body.

Sirius watched her silently, seeming to know that she really did understand.

"It was the first time the Death Eaters came out in the open," he said quietly, going back to fiddling with his bolt. "And ever since then, if the pressure got too much, then sometimes I'd almost black out, like afterwards I couldn't remember anything." He grimaced at her. "Even though everyone told me I'd done well, fought bravely, you know," his shoulders twitched uncomfortably. "I killed Wilkes, I don't even remember it. But James, there beside me, swears I did."

"That must be awful," Hermione said with feeling. "To know that you killed someone but not be able to justify it because you have no memory of the fight –" She paused then added, "Although - if he was a Death Eater then I don't care if he was only casting Jelly Legs , they all deserve death."

Sirius's dark eyebrows went up at this. "I thought you're supposed to advocate for fair trial, Mrs Head of the DMLE."

Hermione batted a hand at him. "I'm sure I am too, but not in the case of known Death Eaters, especially not ones that hurt people I care about."

This got a twisted little smile out of him before he put a renewed effort into loosening the nut. Even from across the room Hermione could see that his fingertips were going white with the force he was applying. She wondered why he didn't just use his wand. But then he spoke again, and she realised he just liked the distraction. "I talked to Dumbledore after it started happening, he told me to use it. Told me not to fear it," he gave another shoulder twitch and a defeated sort of sigh. "But now, or since I lost Marls, sometimes a noise or a shock, or even a smell will set it off."

"What does it feel like?" she asked, unable to help her ingrained determination to understand things completely.

Sirius didn't answer for a moment, but then with a sort of pensive sigh he said. "Like my heart is in my ears. Like I can feel every tiny thing touching me, my clothes, my hair, the wind. And my eyes play tricks on me, shadows and lights, threatening shapes. I came round fast yesterday," he added, a bit sheepishly. "You helped."

"I'm glad, " she said at once. "What caused it last night?"

He shrugged. "It was more like a nightmare."

"Okay, well, next time, wake me up." He nodded, the little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth again. "And when you get back," she told him, "go and see the mind healers at St Mungo's, they will have ways to help."

"The hospital is a pretty dangerous place right now," he shook his head, all humour gone. "Otherwise I would have been, but they can't stop Death Eaters from getting in. We've lost more than one Order member to a hospital bed assassination."

"God, really?" Hermione asked, horrified by this. The hospital wasn't safe? "That's … that's really frightening."

"Yeah, enough to make you lose your mind, right?" he said dryly.

They looked at each other for a long moment, and she tried not to think about what he was going back to; how he'd probably blame her forever. She wondered if he'd resented her, when she'd appeared with Harry in the Shrieking Shack.

Then in a bizarre moment of clarity, she thought about how yesterday he'd not liked what Ron had asked of her. How he'd listened to her complain about him, then, the first time Sirius met Ron, he attacked him, and dragged him along the tunnel floor all the way to the shack, not to mention breaking his leg … No, that would just have been a coincidence. Surely?

"Right," she said, deciding not to dwell on things she'd never know the answer to. "I'm going to make a coffee."

He quickly snatched his cup from the floor and held it out. "Please?" His grin and light glinting eyes belied their serious conversation. He was a bit too good at hiding it all, she thought.

Hermione took his cup and warned. "You're making lunch today."

He nodded, still smiling. "Okay," he wiggled his still blackened fingers at her. "Hope you like engine grease sandwiches."

"My favourite," Hermione murmured as she left the room and heard him laughing quietly as he went back to work. She delivered him another coffee and then found Doris sitting on the table with her daily correspondence.

"Hello, Doris," she said, sitting down and taking a sip from her mug as she began to sift through the letters, looking for any personal ones.

About halfway through the stack there was a folded note with Hermione dashed across the top in Harry's handwriting.

Got it, see you later.

- H

Of course he'd been able to get it without a hitch Hermione thought, surprised by the bitterness she felt at the way Harry really did seem to be able to get anything he wanted. Even dangerous, Ministry protected, time travel devices.

Sirius's humming from the other room suddenly cut off with a grunt of "Bugger it" and a loud metallic clank, followed by repetitive tinking as something rolled across the stone floor.

Something that felt very much like disappointment flooded her at the realisation that this little adventure was coming to an end already.

Sirius did manage to wash his hands to make their lunch, and delivered Hermione a very serviceable ham and salad sandwich at about twelve thirty. Not long after she finally finished writing her statement for the Prophet.

He sat down at the other side of the kitchen table, with his own sandwiches, two of them, which were much messier looking than the one he'd put on Hermione's plate. "Is that alright?" he asked. "I haven't made food for someone else in months."

"Looks perfect," she said. Then she held up the note from Harry. "He got it, he's coming today."

"Wicked," Sirius grinned, but then his face fell. "How long can I stay here? I was thinking about it this morning, you'll be able to choose the date to send me back to right? So couldn't I just stay a bit longer?"

"I think that's how it works," she said, not answering his request on purpose. She'd suddenly realised that this might be more complicated than she'd first thought. Could they be so precise? Or was it only years? He'd left in May, but it was August here. Would he have to go back to August 81? Was he going to have missed another two and a half months of the short time he had left? How had this not occurred to her yet?

"What?" He asked, around his mouthful, then he swallowed, trepidation on his face. "You look very worried."

"I was just thinking, I don't know if the time turner is as precise as days or if it is restricted to months or years. If it's years… that will be hard to explain, where you've been for the last couple of months."

He grimaced. "The last thing James knew, I was being chased by Death Eaters." He paused, looking concerned. "I'd miss Harry's birthday, I've already got his present."

"A toy racing broom," Hermione smiled, remembering the letter from Lily, and sitting on the floor next to Harry in Sirius's dusty bedroom. It was another time, another life. "You miss his birthday anyway," she murmured, without thinking, as the rest of the letter filtered through her mind.

"I would never!" Sirius was very offended by this comment.

"That's just what Lily said," Hermione shrugged, trying to illustrate that she wasn't accusing him. "It was a quiet birthday tea, their neighbour, Bathilda Bagshot came over. But you were with the Order, and sent the broomstick."

Sirius was shaking his head, "The Order over my godson? Never."

"That's what she said. I don't know," Hermione replied vaguely, not wanting to get into the details of why they didn't know anymore than that and suddenly wondering if "The Order" was the cover story he gave for his accidental journey to the future.

"Maybe this is why," Sirius said, echoing the idea that had just occurred to Hermione.

"No, can't be," she went on, still thinking. "Because you sent the broom, so you must be there."

Sirius was visibly concerned. The last half of his sandwich lay forgotten as he stared past her, he chewed on his thumbnail clearly deep in thought. Eventually, when Hermione's food was gone and she'd picked up her quill to start addressing her correspondence again, he spoke. "If it only does years, the time turner I mean, I'll just have to stay here til next May."

This would solve the problem, Hermione supposed, but it would create a whole lot of new ones. Mostly keeping the truth of his life from him, and also, if three days together already had her dreading his departure, would more time make it harder? It would possibly make it easier, he was sure to start annoying her again soon.

"And where would you live?" she asked. "For this year? What would you do?"

"I dunno. Eat? Watch films?" The corner of his mouth pulled up as he finished his sentence. "Shag you?"

She rolled her eyes to hide her amusement and scribbled a name and the relevant office on one of her replies, not looking at him while she concentrated. She set the parchment in her completed pile and said, eyes still on her work, "I suppose you would need the cardio if you just sat around eating and watching telly all day."

Sirius sniggered. "You're funny when you want to be."

"I'm glad you approve," she said. "But seriously, I guess we'll just have to wait and see this one that Harry's got, before we make a plan."

He ate quietly for a few minutes, and Hermione made good progress on her paperwork. When his plate was empty, Sirius asked, "How was it so easy for him to get? I feel like that's a bit … dodgy. That an Auror can just go and get something from the Department of Mysteries like that." He seemed cautious, like he was worried this question would make her angry.

"Are you implying corruption?" she asked bluntly, because honestly, it really wasn't far from it.

"No?" he suggested, but she could tell he was.

"Well, you're not wrong," Hermione sighed. "More like favouritsim, I guess. Special treatment for Harry. I don't think anyone else would have been able to pull it off quite so easily. He and I, we're a bit famous, after the war."

Sirius looked at her in surprise. "I thought you weren't telling me about that?"

"Well," she half laughed, "I'd rather you didn't think we were corrupt."

"You did actually tell me, when you first woke me up here, that you helped defeat Voldemort, that's not something I'm likely to forget." he lifted a rueful eyebrow. "Even with a concussion from overzealous stunning."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "I'd say crashing your motorbike without a helmet is more likely the reason for any lingering head injury symptoms you might have."

Sirius held up his hand to interrupt her, and tapped his lip pretending to think. "Or was it getting run over? Funny, I can't remember properly."

"Anyway," Hermione said, a little impatiently. "Yes, Harry and I, and Ron, too, we were a big part of Voldemort's defeat. But Harry especially." The scene from so long ago was still so sharp in her mind, Harry, beaten and bloody, exhausted and suffering with the loss of so many, stood before Voldemort, taunting him, and then, destroying him. "Harry was the one who dealt him the final blow."

"The prophecy is true then?" Sirius asked after this revelation sunk in, he sounded resigned, like he'd hoped it wasn't, which wasn't at all unexpected.

But it did surprise her that he knew at all. "You know about the prophecy?"

"You know about prophecy?" he grinned, a bit too broad, a bit too fixed. She was finding it easier and easier to see his deflection now, when something worried him, that grin seemed almost automatic.

She forced a smile onto her own face at the joke, humouring him and trying not to think about how the prophecy was the catalyst for his death. "Yes, or Voldemort decided it was, and pursued Harry, so it became inevitable really. But Harry got him in the end. Which is why, when he goes and asks the Head of Magical Time for help, she's inclined to let him have whatever he wants."

"Fair enough," Sirius said. Then he shook his head looking a little awestruck, "Little Harry, hero of the wizarding world. That's mad." But then he fixed his eyes on her again, and the shrewd light was back. "I see why you're dealing with such a press shitstorm now too. That makes more sense. You and the ex, famous since you were teenagers; that's pretty rough."

"Yeah, I'd still say it was worth it though. Everything we went through."

His defensive grin was gone completely now. "You still talk like a freedom fighter," he mused, "you'd have fit in well in the Order."

Hermione recognised this for the complement it was. "I never was an official member," she said, "so thank you."

Suddenly there was a noise like gentle wind chimes ringing through the house and Sirius looked around in surprise. For a terrible moment Hermione wondered if it would set off his Spell Shock symptoms, but it didn't seem to. "What's that?" he asked, looking around for the source of the noise.

Hermione smiled, getting to her feet, "That's a magical disturbance inside my protective charms, Harry's here."

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback on the last one, I'm currently writing 3 other stories, proud to say I've updated all of them this week. The comments from you guys definitely help keep me going. So thanks very much! xx