It was barely five in the evening when she walked downstairs from her room, yet when she looked out of windows, it was only a depressing slate of grey, rain pouring heavily, despite it being nearly halfway through summer. The weather didn't seem to like being reminded of this fact, as the loud sound of raindrops hitting the glass panes echoed.

Today was a non meeting day for the Dumbledore group, and as Hermione had spent most of the day at Diagon Alley with Ron in a strange show of lenience, she was now craving human company. For the first time, even the books were no comfort.

The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing caused her to stand upright. Wand clutched tight in her hand, she pushed open the front door a bare crack. Hermione blinked.

The tall witch with the Slavic accent she'd seen selling illegal books in Knockturn Alley was standing at the doorstep of the so called safe house, as imperious as ever. She smiled, showing her teeth. They were suddenly bright white, a white more apt to a toothpaste commercial.

'The mudblood,' she whispered, before raising her voice. 'I'm here to see a Sirius Black.' she said, slurring the s, now pulling out several papers out of her thick, long cloak, from some invisible pocket. Hermione blinked stupidly again.

'Hermione? What're you doing there?'

She exhaled, at the familiar sound of Sirius's voice, the muttering croak of Kreacher in the background. She didn't know why she was feeling so paralyzed at the moment. 'Someone to see you,' she said loudly, voice not betraying emotion. Footsteps, and she moved to the right, letting Sirius shuffle to the door.

'Oh, it's you,' he said, not sounding very happy about it. 'Come in. Did you find Fletcher?'

'Da, saw him more like. Sly one, he is.' She rasped, now sitting down in one of the armchairs as though it was a throne, dark eyes fixated on the scar on her forehead. It throbbed, and Hermione ignored it as a co incidence, because now her scar hurting was just another new constant in her life.

'You can leave if you want. It's nothing of much importance,' said Sirius. The witch scoffed. 'Nothing of much importance?'

'Nothing of importance to her. Even if she hears what you're going to say, she won't understand.'

'I'm right here,' Hermione said defensively. Sirius shrugged. 'Option's yours. If I didn't want you to eavesdrop, you wouldn't even be here in the house.'

'All that aside,' said the witch, now spreading the papers on the table, written in tiny handwriting, and a few of them were in completely different languages. 'this is what I've found. Businesses are flourishing, by the way. Selling; all high prices, all large quantities,'

'Weird, that,' said Sirius, now leafing through the various papers. 'Who's the new tenant?'

'An Auror,' she said sourly. 'The rest don't know; and trade's going as well as ever, even better.'

'And you have stopped?'

'Somewhat,' she allowed, now looking very fixatedly at the dark curtain shielding the tapestry. 'What's behind the curtain?'

'None of your business, Roza.'

'Anything you want to sell? I don't see you being very fond of all these... what do you call... family heirlooms?'

'I don't like middlemen. Since when did you ally yourself with Fletcher anyway?'

'Fletcher's a crook, da. But he knows the other crooks too,'

'Apart from you?'

'Apart from me.'

'Back to the Auror. What do you know about him?'

'New recruit.' she recited, her dark eyes raking around the whole room, from the velvet curtains to the cabinets with goblin wrought silver. ' Male, inexperienced, the rest on the paper. Not very sharp. I personally think Borgin's figured it out; but if he has, he's not being very intelligent, I'd say.'

'Very good. We can get our evidence easily then.'

The witch laughed, but her eyes were still darting across the room, taking in all the cabinets hidden by the heavy curtains.

'Naive, as always. Borgin hasn't stayed on the market for more than half a century without some brains.'

'No one asked for your opinion, only the information. Now, who's this Flint character?'

'My payment does not cover that, Black,' she said curtly.

'I've paid you enough,'

'We can cover that...but never something for nothing, all a price, rozumiet?'

'You're replaceable, don't forget that.'

'Your money is not, remember that.'

'I'm not paying you anymore.'

'Fine, ' she said coldly, and with a last calculating gaze at Hermione, left in a swish of robes. The rain continued.

Dear Hermione,

Hope you're doing well; haven't heard from you in a while. There's been some news that the Greengrasses have recently had a loss in profits, Father has mentioned that international relations are going bad ever since Barty Crouch Senior retired (is the hunt for his son still going on?), so there's talks of some peace projects. Reckon it'll be an exciting thing next year, especially with all these sudden appearances of antiques on the market...

Padma

Dear Hermione,

Yeah, you're right, the black market in antiques is rising. I think it has something to do with this new rise in Fudge not appearing for the press meet last week...

Terry Boot.

Hermione dropped her bowl in the sink, and when she looked at the unfinished plate of half eaten toast at the table, she resisted the urge to yell at them.

What a luxury, when you could leave a half eaten plate and not feel guilty.

Hermione and Potter were crouched against the railing of the stairs, in a weird mix of co operation. The meetings had started to become more frequent; and Sirius had stopped talking as much as he used to. As the Daily Prophet had still not gone on the offensive side, this only meant that the negotiations were still going on.

So when the arrival of the Potters and Lupin had been accepted without any arguments; Hermione figured what it meant; that the situation was only sinking deeper and deeper.

And here she was, huddled up with Potter, both of them united in this conquest- information.

'Merlin, move a bit, Granger'

'Shut up, all I can hear is your voice-'

'They've put up an imperturbable charm, you can't hear anything-'

'That's not how they work, you idiot-'

He clapped a hand over her mouth, which she immediately twisted back.

'Don't.'

'Then shut up.'

Hermione sighed, elbowing him in the ribs, before shifting even further. If anyone opened the door now, she and Potter would literally collapse onto the doorway.

'Why did you even come here?' She asked, exasperated. None of her charms were working.

'It's my godfather's place.'

'What about your sister?'

'She's with her friends; did you try this one?'

'Yeah, I did. Not working. We'd better get out of here, I reckon the meetings ending.'

'Yeah, probably should, mum will be furious...'

The two of them crept back to the kitchen. Apart from her room, it was the only place Hermione could find a slight bit less depressing than the rest of the house, and it was also the place they were expected to be.

It reminded her of the orphanage though. And Luke. Because how much ever Hermione tried to reason with herself, tried to pretend she hadn't cared, tried to pull up some armour to protect the facade she'd kept up for three years, there was a part of her that thought having a heart wasn't bad, it wasn't wrong, it didn't make you soft.

But it made you vulnerable. Like now. For Hermione, the kitchen was where they'd first struck up their friendship, and it was where they'd broken it. It was when she'd been sneaking out for food, that she'd met the new boy who'd been crying himself to sleep the past three days. The cries she had ignored.

He'd called her a thief that day. They had had a big fight the next day. She still had the scar.

But why did it matter, when she had already acknowledged his goodbyes? Why did she care?

'How do you stay here?' asked Potter, seated on the table. 'It's just-'

Hermione shrugged. 'I do what I have to.'

'I'd be mad, if it were me,' said Potter thoughtfully, his eyes not meeting hers. 'If I had to be stuck in a house like this when there's a Dark Wizard out after me, and there's just nothing happening; oh I'd be real mad.'

'Patience was never your strong suit,' she said, but her voice was emotionless, there was no bite. Potter either recognized this and continued, or didn't notice and continued. Never kept his mouth shut, that one.

'Do you know?' he asked quietly.

'Know what?'

'What you're going to do? I mean, Girl Who Lived and all,'

"Why the sudden concern?'" Hermione wanted to retort, but she couldn't. It was a valid question. That it was Potter asking was just another direct shot. This was a boy whose life she envied; perfect parents; popular, growing up magical, this was a boy who'd gotten the best lot, this was the life she wanted, a life she'd spent so many empty nights dreaming of. And yet, he seemed to see something broken in her the others didn't. What are you, Hermione? Who are you?

'I suppose I do.'

Did she? What could little orphan Hermione, the mudblood, what could she do?

("This ain't your place-")

'You think you're going to fight against him?' he asked now, finally looking at her, and those eyes, she hates them so bad, why do they look so knowing? Who was Harry Potter to her? Not even friends, not even someone she remotely trusted, but who did Hermione trust? She trusted Alastor Moody for a while, and it did not last. She trusted this world of magic for a while, but it didn't last either.

'Well, judging by the events, I'd say yes. Maybe not today. But someday, sometime, we'll have to stand against each other. He did not kill my parents for nothing. What would you do?'

'Me? I don't know, I would just... try to stay alive, I suppose. But I think I'll at least know how it's all going to end. I couldn't stand by and just watch people fight for me or something. I couldn't do that.'

'I don't think you know what it's really like,' he said a while later, and to Hermione it seemed he was talking more to himself. 'You didn't grow up hearing what we heard.'

Hermione just leaned against the wall, not paying attention as the sound of the door creaking open reached their ears. The meeting seemed to have ended; there was the loud click of several footsteps and goodbyes.

'Are you staying?' she asked. Potter nodded.

'They're fighting again,' he said very quietly. Sure enough, they could all hear it from here.

("We've said this over and over again; you know how it was like then-"

"Precisely! What did I do it for? Who did I do it for? You think I ever wanted to go back to that- that hellhole- you think I wanted to go back to the world I ran away from-"

"Don't drag up all that now, Sirius. No one forced you to do it-"

"Remus-"

"C'mon James, can you hear him! We were wrong, and we've all fucking accepted it; he's the only one still stuck-"

"Don't you dare, Lupin!"

"Bloody well, I dare! It's the truth."

"Stuck there because of you! You could not do the courtesy of getting me a trial-"

"Enough, Sirius. We've all accepted our mistakes; we were wrong. We knew what we were getting ourselves, but this. Goddamn it, you knew how it was then. You heard the rumours, you knew the suspicion, when Dorcas was killed by You Know Who personally. Everyone talked. No one trusted. You knew all this and yet-"

"Oh no, James, definitely not. You're not using that. It's all because of my last name, isn't it? More than ten years of friendship, and you still, you still had; have your doubts-"

"Don't be so cheap, to think-"

"When you thought it was me just because I'm a werewolf! Who's the hypocrite?")

Hermione blinked.

'He's really a werewolf? Damn, what the fuck was Dumbledore thinking-'

'Shut up. He's perfectly normal, it's just one day at the full moon.'

'Easy for you to say.'

'Don't talk about things you don't understand.' he said harshly. 'Remus is perfectly normal.'

The shouting had now dropped to whispers, and they could not hear it anymore.

"Sirius,"

That was Lily, her voice soft. Hermione glanced at Potter, who was staring at nothing, and once again, she felt a rush of jealousy. How could he sit and sulk about things like this when there were kids like her? How did he have the right to grief when she couldn't mourn?

Nothing was fair, in this world, she thought bitterly.

"Sirius, I'm- I'm sorry,"

"Never yours, Lily."

'You know what he means?' said Potter coldly, to no one in particular. 'He means they were never friends. That he can forget more than seven years in a word.'

"But, that doesn't mean you can just throw us all away like this. That's unfair."

Hermione did not stay to hear Sirius's reply, and left the kitchen, leaving Potter all alone, with only the whispers of his godfather and the cold of the house.

Nothing was fair in this world.

Hermione was sitting at the dining table, listening to James Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt talking together about a missing junior Auror who had been at patrol duty for Knockturn Alley. Things were getting tenser, the negotiations with Fudge did not seem to be going as smooth as expected, and it would probably stay the same till there was more evidence to back her claims; namely Barty Crouch Junior. So it wasn't much of a surprise to hear that the Aurors were working overtime.

Today was the Aurors meeting; both the Potters, Shacklebolt, they were all at dinner, soup steaming, with some vegetables. Kreacher was not in the best of moods.

They were all leaving now, James and Sirius giving each other nods. Sirius was in the dark hall, a tall, brown haired woman standing behind him, with the same grey eyes, the high cheekbones, that hint of arrogance. But she also reminded her of someone else, a woman she'd once seen in a Pensieve, with heavily lidded eyes, and sleek, shiny black hair, a woman who had pledged her life to Voldemort.

'Hasn't really changed, has it?' asked the woman inquiringly, stepping into the light. She was the sort of woman you called beautiful- not pretty- not young; not old. Her eyes glanced at Hermione, landing on the scar.

'I'm Andromeda Tonks,' she said, her voice stressing the last name.

'Hermione Granger.'

She waved a hand carelessly; even the way she walked was graceful. 'Everyone knows your name, darling. Is the tapestry still here, Sirius?' Her voice was bold, the voice of someone who had gotten everything she'd set her mind to, her accent posh, well enunciated. The sort of people Hermione hated. Or to be really, really truthful with herself, the sort of people she envied.

'Why all the happy memories?'

Andromeda shrugged. 'I want to see the burn mark. Never got the chance.'

'Mine's blacker.'

'Aunt Walburga always did love you the most. And for the love of Merlin, don't repeat that joke. It's a disgrace to call it one.'

'I think I'll go up to bed, Sirius,' said Hermione, it was getting more and more awkward here. Sirius briefly nodded. She did not miss Andromeda's remark as she climbed up the stairs.

'Sharp one, that girl. At least she has the good sense to know when she's not needed.'

'Accio'

She tried to visualize the words in her mind, to say them out in her head. Non verbal spells were not as tough as she realized and when the thick book hit her square in the face, she couldn't help but resist smiling. Smaller spells, like the levitation charms and disarming charms were easy enough. It was time to look a bit bigger.

'Reducto'

There was nothing.

She shut her eyes, trying to think of the blue light. She stressed the words harder in her mind, trying to hear the echoes of the letters in her head.

She stressed the syllables in her head, but there was nothing happening, no blue light, no rush of magic. There was only the tease of power flowing, and the dark.

'It's hardly the words that matter, Hermione,' came a familiar voice. 'It's more the intent.'

'Professor?' she turned, startled.

Lupin chuckled. 'I'm not your professor anymore, you can call me Remus. There, which spell were you practising?'

Hermione knew she would never be able to call him Remus; the mere thought of it was awkward. At the orphanage, it was something Ms. Rehana hated.

("Calling elder people by their names," she would say. "No honour. My ma wouldn't have spared us if we did that. I hear any of you calling me by my name-")

She smiled.

'The reductor curse.'

Lupin did not move, nor was there any change in his features.

'It saved my life- sort of,' she added.

'It's a handy spell,' he agreed, nodding. 'But it's not the only one.'

'Crucio!' She hissed, and her pale fingers were tight against her yew wand.

The woman lying on the rug, an exquisite work, was screaming, and there was blood dripping from her mouth. There was nothing in her eyes.

'Finish it, Nagini...'

'Strange, isn't it, to hold the World cup in this time?' asked Hermione, as she and Ron walked through the winding streets of Diagon Alley, which was still as crowded as ever, bright and colourful shops, loud noises, and but it was all an organized chaos, considering the miracle that she hadn't bumped headfirst into anyone yet. Beside her, Ron, who was walking exceptionally fast now that they had reached the Quidditch gear shops, gave a slight nod.

'I suppose they're just doing it for international co operation or some thing. You don't stop these sort of things half way through; people will go mad...hey, is that the Firebolt?'

Hermione sighed. 'Oh, for god's sake, did you just bring me here to stare at that stupid broom! Hell, don't you ever think of anything else-'

'Shut up, Hermione, you made me stay in that bookstore for an hour-'

'Fifteen minutes-'

'Yeah, you aren't that good at math, I know-'

'Unlike you I don't have all day to hang around here-'

'Yeah, very important to them, you are.'

'I'm stuck there because a madman wants to kill me-'

He elbowed her. She elbowed him back. Harder.

They trudged along the crowd, Ron grabbed her hand, pulling her further to Quality Quidditch Supplies. They were pressed against the window pane together, against the huge mass of teenagers gawking.

'Now that you've admired you reflection can we leave?'

'Merlin, did you see that, the speed, nought to-'

She pulled him by the arm, the sun shining down, as they twisted through the sea of people crowded against the place. They did not last long on their momentum however, and in barely two minutes, they were hit by another crowd and the two of them fell headfirst onto the ground.

'You arse-'

'Your hair, Merlin-'

Ron sat up, coughing loudly, as Hermione attempted to smooth back her hair.

They looked at each other.

'You've got dirt on your nose.'

'You've got dirt all over your face.'

She didn't know who laughed first, and maybe she never would but it was barely a second and they were laughing so loud, people on the street were giving them dirty looks. And Hermione didn't care, she didn't remember when she had last laughed this hard, this full, she's not aware if she ever had. A boy and a girl with dirt on their faces, fallen down on the street and giggling like they would never be able to again.

She took a deep breath, trying to regain something, but before she knew it she was laughing again, they were laughing together, and she didn't even recognize the reddish scrape on her elbow, she did not feel the pain. She was with her friend, and they were fallen on the street, and they probably looked like idiots, but goddamnit. She wanted to laugh more..

If someone had told her then, that this would be the happiest day in her life, she would have believed them. With all her heart.

'Sirius...?'

She could not breathe. There was so much blood.

AN:

Some clarification: the order of the phoenix has not been restated; its only the aurors and prominent ministry people on Dumbledore's side who're starting now. Negotiations with Fudge- as in, trying to make him release to the public that voldemort's back but he wants more evidence.
Oh, and the Ron and Hermione line was melodramatic, probably, but I don't really care.