Maybe Sirius wasn't completely wrong, Hermione thought, stumbling through the fireplace and into the living room. Maybe what she really needed to do was just lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling for the next five years.
She moaned in blissful relief as she sank into the couch and placed an arm over her eyes. Ah, yes, peace and quiet. Just what she needed after such an intense first day. Madam Lazarov had really put her through her paces, pushing her both physically and mentally, and she had loved every minute of it. It was the first time she felt she had fully used her capabilities, as the Healer had demanded answers to questions even as she had pushed Hermione to perform spells. Even most of her questions were analytical and required critical thinking rather than recitation.
It was exhilarating, and it was only the first day.
Dear Harry, she began mentally composing her first letter to her friend, how is your summer going? Have you begun your summer homework? I hope the Dursleys are treating you better than they have in the past, she doubted it, those wretched people, and summer will be over before you know it! She paused for a moment, and then continued, Snuffles is doing well: he seems to be having a wonderful time lazing about. Though he could be a bit of a git. I'm sure he misses you terribly; I'm no substitute for his favorite human! As for me, I'm having a grand time in Bulgaria with the Quidditch Team, but you'll never guess what happened today on my first day. The rest of the letter almost wrote itself as she relayed the events that took place at the river—the player thought I was some kind of rabid fan there to get an autograph!—and she filed it away to write and to post later that evening.
Wait. She didn't have an owl. Perhaps it was time she got one, since she wrote back home so frequently. Harry had been a love to let her use Hedwig so often, but she couldn't rely on Hedwig forever. Besides, if she was to be living here for the next couple months, the cost of international postage using a public owl would eclipse the cost of buying her own owl if she ended up sending enough letters, which would happen sooner rather than later.
Suddenly, Sirius, or rather, Magellan, clattered down the stairs, looking rather dapper in a navy suit and black striped waistcoat, over which he wore robes the color of butterscotch. While she wouldn't have picked such a bright set of robes for herself, it made his straw colored hair, which he'd tied up in a queue against his neck, turn a striking gold. She hardly recognized him.
He took in her limp pose with a glance and asked, "Long day, kitten?"
She let the name pass without comment, rather too tired to muster up the energy for it. "Good day," she returned, "but long. I think you were right about the couch thing yesterday."
His mouth split into a grin. "Lazing about is the perfect afternoon — or morning, or really any time — activity. So, meet any handsome blokes ready to sweep you off your feet and fly away with you?" He flourished his wand, affecting a dueling stance. "Should I be prepared to defend your honor? You know, since I'm your guardian and all."
He really did seem to get some perverse sense of satisfaction out of being labeled an authority figure.
Against her will, a smile tugged at her lips. "I don't think you'll have any blokes to ward off today," she replied. "I spent most of the day working with Madam Lazarov, and I hardly met anyone."
He arched a brow. "Nobody got injured? I find that hard to believe. When I played pick-up games, someone always got hurt. It drove Madam Pomfrey positively batty." Suddenly his expression shuttered, his eyes turning flat and dangerous. For a long moment, she watched Sirius fall inside himself, but the lighthearted version of the man returned a moment later. "So not a single bloke, then?" he asked, forced levity in his tone.
"Not a single one." She wasn't going to tell him about the Quidditch player with some kind of grudge. Hermione could take care of him herself. "Besides, it's not like they'd be interested. I'm rather too young for them, don't you think?"
He frowned. "You're what, thirteen?"
"Almost fifteen," she corrected, and his eyes widened in surprise. "I'm old for my year, and then I used the Time-Turner a rather lot." She shrugged. "So I'm almost fifteen. I think."
He nodded slowly, eyes hooded. "I hadn't thought you used the Time-Turner that much, even though I'd seen bits of it from where I was hiding by the lake. And you've had no lasting side effects?"
She thought of the way she constantly slightly yearned to fall through time again and again, the feeling when she emerged on the other side euphoric. Slowly, she shook her head. "Nothing too bad," she replied with a shrug.
He pursed his lips for a moment before seeming to take her at face value. Continuing on his earlier tangent, he told her, "You are rather young, kitten, but I think that you'd be surprised what could happen in wizarding society. Age isn't really so much a boundary as you think. Most Quidditch players are young, and wizards don't age like Muggles do. Besides, I think there's that one player — what's his name — that's just about as young as you. He's still in school while he plays for the National Team here, but the Bulgarians wanted him bad enough to make all sorts of special exceptions. He's the Seeker, I think. Krum? Valya Krum? Viggo Krum? Some kind of V name."
Hermione stared at him, disbelieving that he somehow knew all of this about a foreign team, and he said defensively, "What? I like Quidditch!"
"Perhaps you can tell me about the players that I'll be treating, then, since I know nothing about them at all," she said dryly, standing up to stretch.
"I'm fairly certain the local paper here has a profile on each of the players in the back, considering how good they're doing in the qualifying rounds," Sirius offered.
She nodded, standing and stretching. "Perfect. Shall we be off, then?"
He looked at her blankly. "Off? To where?"
"The White Square, of course," she responded matter-of-factly. "It's not as if we've got enough food here to last forever, and I thought it would be fun to explore the Square. It's like their equivalent of Diagon Alley, you know."
Sirius's face shuttered, a hint of that dark look returning to his eyes. "Why don't you go without me? I feel a spot of fever coming on." He touched the back of his hand to his forehead. "Why, it might be the pox. I should go lie down and rest, shouldn't I? Great idea." He moved towards the stairs.
"Stop it right there, Sirius," she commanded, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. "You were fine just a moment ago, and besides, isn't it your duty to accompany me? You know. As my guardian, which you are so proud of pointing out. I could get into trouble on my own, you know, since it's my first time there. What if I got lost? Whatever would I do?" She blinked at him innocently.
He groaned and scraped a hand over his face, looking slightly ill at the thought. "Right." He breathed out once, and seemed to gather himself together. "Right," he said again. "Of course. Let's go to the White Square. It'll be a grand time."
She wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her, and his sudden pallor alarmed her. Perhaps he was getting ill. "We really don't have to go," she backtracked hastily. "I didn't mean to wrangle you into doing something you didn't want to do. I am awfully tired, and I'm sure we have enough food to last for the evening."
"No, no." He shook his head, a lock of golden hair falling into his eye before he thoughtlessly flicked it away. "You're right. We should go." He opened the door and held out his arm in a surprisingly courtly old-world gesture that delighted her. "Shall we?"
She stepped up next to him and threaded her arm through his, looking up at him. "We shall."
The summer days ran long in Sofia, and though it was half six, the sun still shone down on them brightly as they approached the Square through a long alley. She wondered why it was called the White Square, but when they turned a corner and the alley suddenly dumped them into a mammoth open area, her questions were answered.
"Oh, it's wonderful," she breathed, gripping Sirius's arm. Next to her, Sirius made a noncommittal noise, his free hand slipping into the pocket of his robe as the entire line of his body went tense.
Unlike Diagon Alley, the Square was, well, a square, with storefronts ringing the sides in extremely tall whitewashed stone buildings decorated with riots of flowers. The middle of the space buzzed with people talking at various pop-up stands, which were arranged in no particular order around a giant fountain with famous figures carved in marble.
It was chaotic and wonderful and lively, and she immediately loved it. There were so many places to explore. Was that stand over there selling books? She craned her head to get a better look.
"Yes, yes," Sirius said impatiently, "it's wonderful. It's brilliant. Let's just get on with getting some food and be done with it." He disentangled his arm from hers and strode off without a backwards look, shoulders stiff.
Hermione frowned at his retreating figure. He looked like someone going to battle, not someone preparing to go to the wizarding equivalent of Primark.
The thought struck her, and she bit her lip as she looked at his rapidly shrinking figure with an appraising gaze. He'd been living in Azkaban for twelve years, where his only company were either Dementors or other convicts, after which he'd been on the run from a society determined to track him down and kill him once and for all. She almost stumbled at the thought. A society that he was still on the run from.
Put like that, it made sense that walking among so many people in such a public place would likely be terrifying. After all, all that stood between him and discovery was the Polyjuice Potion.
"Sirius!" she called after him, then cursed under her breath. His name wasn't Sirius any longer. He'd had that taken from him, too. "Magellan!" she called again, "Wait up a moment!"
He paused, butterscotch robes brushing against his loafers, and turned to look at her as she quickly caught up to him. The look in his vibrant blue eyes was something better suited to that of a trapped animal looking for a place to hide. Compassion rose within her in a swift wave.
"I can go myself," she offered quietly. "If you'd like, I mean. I can buy what you would like if you'll just tell me, and you can go home. I don't mind at all. Honest."
He shook his head. "I shouldn't," he said at last, after a long moment. "I'm your guardian. And besides," he added, when it looked like she was about to protest, "I need to get used to this again rather quickly. People. Noise. Life. That kind of thing. Especially since I'll need to be around it all on my," he raised an eyebrow significantly, "thing. I have to be normal."
She stifled a smile at the distaste in his voice. Who would have thought that someone like him, who had once been utterly at ease and even basked in the attentions of others, would become such a recluse? "We can do it quickly, then, and nip home. I made a list of what I need —"
"Of course you did." His lips turned up at the corners. "You strike me as the prepared sort."
"—and it should go rather quickly, I imagine." She looked longingly at the bookstand and resolved to come back soon. "I had thought about stopping by the Apothecary to pick up some ingredients, or at least some potions, but perhaps we can do that later."
"Whatever for?" Sirius asked quizzically. "Our friend," she assumed he meant Dumbledore, "is keeping you in supply for that potion I need, and you don't really need anything else, do you?" He suddenly looked concerned. "Are you ill?"
"It's not for me," she said crossly. "I wanted to make a few batches of practice potions that Madam Lazarov told me we'll be using frequently." It wasn't quite the whole truth, but she wasn't going to go telling Sirius that she was making healing potions for him in the case that he needed them. She wasn't sure he'd appreciate her assumption of his skills. And it wasn't that she thought he was a bad wizard — she knew he was highly skilled, considering she'd looked up his NEWT and OWL scores — but people tended to get injured on dangerous endeavors, which his mission surely qualified as.
Well, that and she really did want to get some extra practice in. She wasn't that good hearted.
He relaxed a fraction, though he still remained wary. "I see. Right, then, we'll pop into one right quick."
They made short work of obtaining the necessaries, with Sirius relaxing more and more as time went on and nobody tried to hex him. He even went so far as to stop at a stand and haggle for some fresh fruit, and while she took a bite of an orange, he slipped a fresh daisy into her hair. "A pretty flower for a pretty witch," he told her with a rakish grin.
"How many times did that work for you at Hogwarts?" she asked dryly, fingers coming up to touch its petals.
His grin widened. "Plenty enough."
The walk home was pleasant, the setting sun casting shadows on the road. Sirius had offered to apparate them home, but Hermione demurred, wishing to soak in the moment. It wasn't often that she found herself spending time in a foreign country on a beautiful day with surprisingly pleasant — and certainly complicated — company. They meandered along towards the house, and Hermione unlocked the door with a quick Alohamora. The door was spelled to both their wands, making it easy for them and nobody else to get access, though she didn't doubt the house was also heavily warded.
"I think I'll be out tomorrow for a bit, kitten," Sirius said as they dug into their meal, a simple dish that Hermione's mother had taught her the year before. Sirius professed himself a wretched cook, so it seemed most of that would be left up to her, which was fine, really, since she had to cook for herself anyways.
"So soon?" she asked in dismay.
He grimaced. "There's no time like the present. Besides, the longer I go without trying to track him down, the colder the trail gets and the less likely I am to find him. And I will find him. No matter what I've got to do, or who I've got to work with." Something dangerous and perhaps not altogether sane flashed across his face. "I think I've got wind of someone I can talk to, and an idea of how to approach them.
Her throat went a bit dry, but she covered it up by taking a sip of water. "Right, then," she said briskly. "How long will you be gone for? Do you have rations? What about potions? How many doses of Polyjuice do you have? Actually, where are you even going?"
"I'll be around here, I think, unless I find out they've gone to another city. Even then it's just a quick apparation there and back, but I'll take a kit just in case that I've already prepared. I am an adult, you know. You needn't fuss so much over me."
Stung, she drew back. "Excuse me for caring, then," she said frostily.
He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, poppet. I'm not used to all the fussing, not anymore, but it is...nice...to know that you care."
"You're Harry's godfather! Of course I care! And besides, you've been rather nice to me, at least today." Carefully, she touched her finger against the soft petals of the flower still tucked against her ear. Without looking at him, she quietly continued, "And about...well. You know."
There was a long pause, and then Sirius sniffed haughtily. "I am wonderful, I know, I know. No need to tell me." He grew serious and patted her hand. "I do take my responsibilities seriously, you know. We're in this together, you and I, and I'm grateful for your help. Don't think I don't know who is brewing my Polyjuice for me once I run out. It's a damned hard potion to make in the first place, and you're doing it on top of your apprenticeship."
His acknowledgement made her flush. Harry and Ron didn't often thank her—sometimes they even resented her for her help. "Of course," she replied simply. "I want to help you like you tried to help me. Besides, Pettigrew must be stopped. Who knows what that — that — that rat is up to. He's already done enough damage."
"Agreed. And that's why I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't want to tell you where I'm going," he hedged, "but I'll be in Bulgaria, have no fear about that. Peter had roots here, on his mother's side," he added. "It's more of a distant cousin twice removed type thing, but it's enough to make me look. What makes it worse is that Bulgaria had some fairly strong ties with Grindelwald, and there's still enough of a leftover Dark presence here that Peter could easily find his way into unsavory company that could do a lot of damage."
She had wondered why Sirius would want to start looking in Bulgaria rather than somewhere closer to home, but this information helped it click into place. No wonder he'd want to begin here.
Suddenly, she yawned uncontrollably, and Sirius chuckled from his seat across the little kitchen table. "You look knackered. Run off to bed, and I'll see you in the morning."
"But we're not finished talking," she protested around a second, longer yawn.
"I think we are," he replied firmly. "Go on, then. Get."
She tried a baleful look, but his slightly entertained expression indicated it fell rather more flat than she'd thought. Reluctantly, she pushed back her chair. "I need to do the dishes first, at least," she murmured, beginning to gather them.
"I'll do them. It's the least I can do after you cooked for me." Yet again he surprised her, his thoughtfulness making her reassess his character. She was beginning to see how James, Lily, Remus, and even Peter had wanted him for a friend. He was often thoughtful and kind, but it all was overlaid by the new Sirius Black, someone dark and somehow fragmented.
Tiredly, she smiled at him. "That sounds wonderful. I'll see you for breakfast, then?"
He nodded, and she left Sirius behind doing the dishes as she fell into bed, almost instantly asleep.
That night, she woke to a sharp cry. Bolting upright at the first noises, she made her way almost to his door when they abruptly stopped. Moments later, his door swung open and she jumped as his haggard, sweaty face appeared.
"Um—I heard—do you—"
"Go back to sleep." He brushed by her, his last words drifting on the air behind him. "I don't need help from little kittens like you."