PART III

LUPUS IN FABULA

The Wolf in the Story.

Chapter 75: Quo Vadis*

18 June 1979

The Shelter

He'd caught her trying to sneak out, the sun already streaming into his room.

"Talk to me." Sirius was rummaging through his things to find a shirt to throw on.

"It's fine, I'm just going to my room." Hermione desperately looked toward the door.

"Pup, seriously." Sirius reached out to grab her arm. "You can't just leave. Let's talk about this."

Hermione closed her eyes and let him turn her to face him. Merlin, what could she say? That she fucked up? That she acted emotionally without thinking through the consequences? That she'd just said goodbye to his brother for who knows how many years and needed something—anything—to ground her in the present? That she was scared?

"Are you—Do you regret it?" Sirius' face was fighting off the last vestiges of sleep, but concern and worry were already bleeding through. Hermione didn't open her eyes. Sirius sighed and pulled her to his chest, hugging her close and rubbing her back. "'Cause I don't. I don't regret it at all, Pup."

Slowly, Hermione wrapped her arms around Sirius.

"I'm not letting you out of here until we talk about this," he whispered into her hair. "But if you want me to go first, I will. I don't regret it, Pup. In fact, it's probably the farthest thing from a regret for me. But I know we said we were taking things slow, and I get that this was a big step."

He pulled away from her, letting his hands move to her shoulders to keep her close to him. He leveled his eyes at her, searching her gaze as he pushed all his emotions to the forefront.

"I get that you may be freaking out. And I get that it only makes it worse that we live together, but I'm not letting you run away, Pup. You are my top priority here. Not me, not our relationship, but you. I'm your friend first, and if we need to backtrack to just friends for a while, that's fine. But you're going to talk to me."

Fuck, he didn't deserve this. Sirius deserved someone whole, someone who could fully support him in the years to come. Not someone who had lied to him from the moment he met her. Not someone who's heart was pulled in three different directions. Not someone with one foot in the future and one foot in the past, someone who couldn't keep a grip on the present.

Hermione opened her eyes, a soft ring of golden light glowing in her gaze. "I—" She shut her mouth. What could she possibly say? "I don't regret it."

Sirius' sigh matched the release within her mind. And it was the truth. No matter what led to her sleeping with Sirius, she didn't regret it.

"But I probably should."

"Pup—"

"No, I—" She shook her head, pulling his hands from her shoulders to hold in her own. "I love you, Sirius, but I'm not ready to be in love with you yet. And you don't deserve that. I think I—I think I took advantage last night, and while I really, truly do not regret it, I don't think I should have done that."

"You did not take advantage." Sirius angled his head to find her eyes. "Hermione, I don't know how much clearer I can say it, but I was a willing participant last night. Fuck, if you knew how long I'd been thinking of—Merlin's bloody ballsack, Pup, I could not have been more enthusiastic." His face dropped in horror. "Wait. Fuck." He dragged a hand through his hair, stepping away from her and her hands and her body. His hands moved to reach out for her, but he shoved them back to his sides. "Were you—Did I—" He cringed. "Did I hurt you?"

Hermione threw up her hands, immediately going to his side. "No! No, not at all, I swear. It was—it was—" She couldn't lie to him. "Amazing, Sirius. Really good."

He breathed and closed his eyes before raising his chin to blink up at the ceiling. His arms flexed at his sides. Hermione watched the veins in his arms as they both thought back to what they had been up to just hours before.

The way he'd kissed her

The way she'd bared herself, wet and wanting.

The way his hands could never get their fill of her.

The way he'd moaned against her as he finally stopped teasing.

The way she reveled in the fullness.

The way his hips had thrust into hers.

The way she fit so perfectly against him.

The way he didn't neglect a single inch of her.

The way she fell.

The way he whispered her name like an oath.

Sirius clenched his jaw, bringing his eyes back down to Hermione, his heart pounding against his chest. He could see the slight flush to her cheeks, the gold still present in her eyes. His room smelled like lavender.

He smiled. "It was really good, wasn't it? Amazing."

Hermione's smile was a little sadder. She reached out for him, pulling herself back into her place in his arms. "I don't regret it, Sirius, but it doesn't change anything. I'm—I'm not ready for what you deserve."

He was silent for a long while.

"This feels like it's about more than just us."

"It is."

"You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know."

He pressed a kiss into her hair, breathing her in. Her curls were always more wild in the morning. "But it's not me or something I did?"

"No." Hermione shook her head against his chest. "No, this is—this is me."

"The old It's-Not-You-It's-Me," he scoffed, but smiled around his words. "I can work with that, Pup. It's only fair."

Hermione scoffed in turn. "How is this fair to you?"

"I was awful to you when we first met, Pup. Feels like ages ago, but I remember." He held her closer, relishing in the warmth of her body against his. "But I came to my senses. I saw how you were with my friends, my family. You're incredibly caring and loyal and just—fuck, Pup, you're amazing. And I guess I just want to be a part of that. I know that you're not ready for me yet, and I understand, I really do. I told you, Pup, we're at your pace, but I'm-I'm going to prove to you that we're worth it, I promise."

Hermione clung to him, her only response the subtle nod of her head.

"And Pup, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want, but if there's anything you need—"

The whooshing sound of the floo downstairs echoed through the house.

"I'm home!" Remus called from down below.

Sirius and Hermione stepped apart and blinked at each other, a conversation occurring in seconds. He's home. A furrowed brow. What would he think? A half-hearted smile. He doesn't have to know. A nod. This is between us. A squeeze of the hand. This stays between us. A hopeful quirk of the lips. For now. A smile returned. For now.

And then Hermione was free. She shouted down to Remus before escaping down the hall. She took a moment to catch her breath before heading to the bathroom, immediately turning on the shower. She stepped inside, clothes still on, and let the water beat down on her as the temperature rose.

She gasped for air, pulling the sodden fabric from her body and throwing it to the tiled floor. The water scalded at her skin as she sank to the floor of the shower.

She had fucked up. And her mind was spiraling. She was grieving Regulus. And she was celebrating saving him. She wanted to hide and never ever speak of what happened between her and Sirius. And she desperately, desperately wanted it to happen again.

She clenched her eyes closed as she sat alone under the spray of water. Alone. Alone. Totally alone here. There was no one she could talk to who would be able to understand her situation. She wanted Harry and Ron and Neville and Ginny and Luna. She wanted Regulus.

She'd gotten too close. This was never supposed to happen. She should never have let it get this far with any of them, playing in their past like she didn't know their future. What would he think? He wouldn't be in the dark forever. One day he'd know what she did, where she was before she knocked on his door. One day he'd know she wasn't who he thought she was. One day he'd know her and she wouldn't remember. One day she'd have to tell the truth. What would he think then?

June 1979

The world slowly started to turn to what Hermione began to think of as "the long wait." She woke up. She showered. She ate. She went to bed. And she thought about Regulus.

She visited Ben. She hung out with the boys. She found another coffee shop and started to work again. And she thought about Regulus.

For two weeks, things seemed okay. Except they weren't. For a few nights, she woke up from nightmares only to pace through her memory to remember, to convince herself Regulus was saved. Twice she thought about calling him back, wondering if it was all a mistake.

She was alone now with nothing to do. She pushed her boys as far away as she could without raising suspicion. For the first time since she'd landed in the past, she felt stuck, trapped. The days started to blend, and Hermione was so tired. But it just kept going. Everything. And she had to keep going too. She was in mourning, but she would mourn alone.

And then Walburga showed up.

4 July 1979

The Shelter

Sirius had been out at the garage working on his bike again when Walburga Black appeared at the edge of the property. She walked past the gate and up to the cottage like she owned the place, bringing a chill in with her wake. Sirius spotted her just before she made it to the front door. He glanced at the house. Remus and Hermione were inside. He didn't want them to witness whatever his mother had come to say.

"Walburga," he called as he approached her. She pulled her hand down from where she'd poised it to knock on the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Surely, I taught you better manners than that." She stepped away from the door, looking at the chipped paint with disgust. "I am your mother. Do you truly believe that is how I should be greeted?"

"My mother is dead."

Walburga rolled her eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in? Offer me tea?"

"No."

"Hmm." She looked over at the house, sneering as she did. "Your home, is it? That you share with a half-blood and mudbloo—"

"Don't say that."

"It's quaint." She looked down her nose at him. "Small."

"Did you need something or did you come all this way just to appraise the house?"

"No, I needed to speak to you on a delicate matter." She looked toward the door.

"You can keep looking at the door all you want, but I'm not letting you inside. The fact that you've made it this far on the property just means I need to update the wards."

"You must know why I am here, of course."

"No fuckin' clue."

"Watch your tongue." Her eyes narrowed. "It's time to come home. I've indulged this little run around for far too long. But it's time for you to come home and take your rightful place as heir."

"Isn't that what Reggie's for?" Sirius scoffed. "The spare to the heir?"

Walburga slapped Sirius across the face. "Do not speak about your brother like that." She didn't raise her voice as she readjusted the ring on her hand.

"The truth, you mean?" He clenched his jaw, trying to hide any reaction to the sting blooming on his face. "Isn't that why you have a spare son?"

"Regulus is dead." Walburga spoke the words as if they meant nothing. "You are the only son in line to inherit for the House. I will not see it broken apart to fall to the hands of the Malfoys or Lestranges. It is time for you to redeem yourself in the eyes of your family."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Do not use that language."

"No, what the fuck does that mean, Regulus is dead?" Sirius' eyes were aflame. "Where is he?"

"Your brother had disappeared." Walburga picked a piece of lint off her sleeve. "He has been searched for, thoroughly, but the tapestry has already changed to reflect his passing. As such, arrangements must be made."

"The tapestry? Disappeared? Where is he?" Sirius fell against the side of the house, his thoughts scattered.

"Pull yourself together."

Sirius' eyes snapped back to her. "Don't you care?"

"I have grieved for my son, but it is time to set things right. This is an opportunity for you to take your rightful place and serve our Lord. You should have always stood at his side."

"Our Lord? You're insane." Sirius barked out a laugh. "Fucking hell. That shit's probably the reason Reggie's dead. He was a complete coward. And I know he was marked, too. Fuckin' devoted to the dark side. They're the ones who likely got him killed."

"The House of Black needs an heir," Walburga continued, ignoring Sirius' words. "And with your father's passing, time isn't to be wasted—"

"Father's dead?" The attitude fell from Sirius' voice.

"He collapsed and was taken to St Mungo's yesterday. Your insubordination and this incident with Regulus proved to be too stressful for the man." Walburga shifted on her feet, pulled the heels of her shoes from the soft grass. She met Sirius' eyes with an unfeeling and cold stare. "You and your brother should be ashamed of the stress you have inflicted on your family."

"Well, Reggie's dead so don't know what good shame will do him now."

Walburga slapped him again. He told himself the tears prickling in his eyes were due to the physical pain alone.

"Get the fuck off my property." His voice was tired.

"Excuse me?" Walburga's face pinched.

"You heard what I said."

"You owe this to your family to—"

"You're not my family. You burned me off that blasted tapestry, remember? And you stopped being my family long before that." Sirius Black stood tall as he spoke against his mother, his eyes hard set and his cheek aflame from her hand. "I claim nothing from you, and you are nothing to me. I appreciate you informing me of my father and brother, but they were the very last ties that could have ever had a chance of holding me to being a Black in anything more than name. It will be a cold day in hell before I ever step foot in that house again."

Walburga opened her mouth to speak again, but Sirius stepped forward, causing her to fall back a step.

"Now, get the fuck off my property and don't ever come back."

8 July 1979

The Shelter

He didn't cry or shout or scream. In the days that followed Sirius learning of Regulus and Orion's deaths, Hermione watched him constantly. Her gut twisted with the secret she held and the knife drove deeper when she learned of Sirius' father. The timing of it all. She hadn't known, and it made it that much worse.

Hermione remembered finding him in Regulus' room after he'd returned from the Veil, but this wasn't like that. He pushed it all down, hid it away. He stopped reaching for her waist, stopped testing the boundaries of the regrowth of their relationship. She saw the announcement for the funerals in the paper, but he didn't go. Instead he drank expensive whiskey and played loud music. He busied himself with his bike. He hung out with Remus and Hermione. They made it to a Sunday Night Dinner, and he laughed with his friends, asked about their lives, talked about the war. He never spoke of his brother.

When they'd returned from dinner, Hermione and Remus had reluctantly parted from his side. They said their good nights but shared a look before they closed their doors. Sirius Black didn't sleep much anymore.

Hermione stared at the ceiling in the dark, her heart aching. Listening for the sounds of Remus sleeping, she ventured out of her room with the excuse of wanting a cup of tea ready on her lips. She tiptoed down the stairs, halfway hoping Sirius was fast asleep in bed, and already knowing he wasn't. As she walked into the kitchen, she heard a soft crash coming from the other side of the room. She looked around the table to find Sirius kneeling beside an opened cabinet and a pile of their healing supplies.

"Sirius?" she whispered, somewhat unsure of herself. She slowly approached, kneeling beside him after waving a wand to start up some tea. Sirius had fallen to his knees beside the cabinets, one arm holding his face and head and the other clutching a fistful of potions. Staring at him, Hermione wondered how long he could carry on trying to hide he was existing as just a shell of a man. She wrapped her arms softly around him so as not to spook him.

The moment dragged on as they sat there without talking. The only sounds in the room were the muffled ticking of the clock on the wall and their breathing, slowly synchronizing. After a couple of minutes, Sirius finally lifted his head.

"Hey, Pup." It was just a whisper, but by the coarseness of his voice, Hermione could tell he was holding back from crying.

"Hi, Sirius," she whispered back.

"I was organizing our supplies," Sirius nodded toward the potions in his hands. Hermione pulled herself back to give him space. "Wouldn't want to be unprepared for tomorrow's moon." He started to place the potions back in their rightful spots.

They moved apart, and Hermione stood to pour him a cup of tea. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the cap before pouring a bit into the mug. She knelt back down by his side, pushing the tea into his line of sight. He took it, offering a weak smile in return before taking a sip.

"Firewhiskey?"

"Ogden's finest."

"Oh, so not the good stuff."

"You've only reopened the wound." Hermione smiled sadly. "I thought I'd save the good stuff for direr emergencies, but I promise cheap firewhiskey works just as well, if not better."

"Reopened the wound, huh?" He lifted a hand to trace over the scar by her eye. "Think we'll have matching scars?"

"Some scars can't be seen, Sirius."

He nodded at her, setting down the mug of tea before cleaning up the rest of the healing supplies. She sat with him until he was finished, and when he closed the cabinet, she stood with him, holding his hand in hers.

"The Whiskey Towel's missing," he muttered as he moved to put his mug in the sink. "I don't know where I put it last, but I can't find it."

"Sirius, it's okay. It—"

He braced himself against the sink, letting out a breath that sounded strained around a sob. "I don't know where it is. I just—I can't believe I lost it."

Hermione came to his side, wrapping her arms around him. "It doesn't matter, Sirius. It's okay. I promise, it'll be okay."

"But tomorrow's moon—You need it. We need it."

Hermione shook her head against his back. "It's okay. It's okay. It'll turn up one day. But for now—for now, we just need each other."

18 July 1979

The Shelter

The first gift arrived a month after she said goodbye to Regulus. Hermione came home from a shift at the coffee shop to see a little brown box sitting on her bed with a note tucked underneath. She didn't even think before she opened it.

She tore off the lip and dropped the box just as suddenly, backing up from the bed. She was too shocked to scream.

Dozens of scorpions sat lifeless at the bottom of the box.

Hermione shivered, knowing immediately who had left this for her. Had he been in her house? In her room? She breathed in, but he'd left no trace behind.

She picked up the note.

"Couldn't you help it or was it truly in your nature?"

Hermione vanished the scorpions with a wave of her wand, but she had a sinking feeling that Antonin Dolohov would not be as easy to get rid of.

Chapter Title Translation: *Where Do You Go?