After talking with Ron - if their stilted, barely making eye contact encounter called be called a conversation - Hermione had agreed to delay approaching Sirius until they had at least tried Mrs Weasley. The plan had been to appeal to Molly's maternal instincts and obvious concern for Harry's ongoing welfare to get more information.
An opportunity presented itself at breakfast the very next day. Hermione was sandwiched between the twins, leaning into George for warmth, and to avoid whatever it was that Fred was subtly working on next to his breakfast plate. Sensing a rare moment of quiet, Ron took his chance.
"You know who loves sausages?" he asked as he took one out of the large serving tray in the middle of the table. "Harry, Harry loves sausages. Say, Mum, when is Harry getting here?"
Hermione resisted the urge to face plant the table, but it was a close-run thing. Sometimes when dealing with the boys around her, there was nothing left for Hermione to do other than let her face connect with a hard lacquered wood and scream her rage, or in this case disbelief, into its unforgiving surface. She knew that as Gryffindors subtly wasn't exactly their wheelhouse, but Merlin, that was painful. And they wondered why they weren't allowed to be an active part of the war effort.
Molly, no doubt used to years of children asking questions seemingly out of thin air, barely batted an eye. "Oh don't you worry about that, Dumbledore has it all in hand."
"I know, but we haven't been able to send him any owls and-"
"Ronald," Mrs Weasley interrupted sternly, putting down her saucepan to give the matter her full attention. "He will get here as soon as he is supposed to, and not a moment before. It's not for you to think on."
Hermione directed her long ago patented 'I told you so' look at Ron and he mumbled something that sounded like 'fine' in response, followed by a few words she was sure he would've gotten a thick ear for if Molly had heard.
Hermione had tried to tell him that Sirius was the only viable option. The only thing more dependable than Dumbledore's vagueness was the Weasley matriarch's steadfast belief in the headmaster, whatever his motivations. Hermione hoped, for all their sakes, that Molly knew more information than they did, and was satisfied that their friend was safe and above all happy, but she doubted. It.
Despite shooting gloating looks at Ron all through breakfast, Hermione was feeling much less confident in her plan by the time she left the kitchen to go in search of Sirius. If she had learnt anything since she had entered the magical world, it was that the 'best plan' they had wasn't necessarily a good one, often it was the only option. That was how Hermione had found herself staring up at a three-headed dog in her first year, and being chased by a werewolf in her third, and now it was driving her further and further up the winding stairs of the old townhouse, to Sirius' room.
Hermione had parted ways with Ginny on the second-floor landing and said she would catch up with her later. Ginny, unlike Ron, had offered to come. Hermione had been tempted to take her up on it, however, some instinct told her it would be best to go it alone, she was already planning on entering Sirius' private space very much without invitation, it was probably best to do so as unobtrusively as possible.
When Hermione made it to Sirius' door, she stood still for a few moments building up the courage to knock. There was a name plaque on the door, faded like everything else in this house of nightmares, but still legible. Engraved in what looked like a small child's handwriting was Sirius Orion Black with the constellation that gave him his name lightly etched over the old letters. Suddenly, Hermione felt even more unwelcome, looking at the perfectly timed reminder that Sirius had lived here, and that he had never been happy.
With a determination she did not feel, Hermione rapped softly on the door and waited for a response, mostly unsurprised when none came. Hermione knew that Sirius was in there; he rarely came to breakfast, preferring to make himself something in the kitchen when they had all left if he ate at all. When Remus was in the house Sirius would dutifully seek him out and sit by his old friend, but Remus was not at Grimmauld, and Hermione knew if her former professor was not in the house, Sirius would be hiding in his room.
Hermione debated knocking again, but the room beyond the door was silent, save for a few rustles every now and again, and so she knew he would have heard her. Instead, knowing it was rude but doing it anyway, Hermione lightly pushed on the door. She had no desire to irritate Sirius more than she already had, but she had no idea when she might evade Mrs Weasley again. It was now or never.
With a whole host of reservations, Hermione entered, expecting to be confronted by an angry Sirius Black; instead, she found a very unhappy looking Hippogriff.
"Buckbeak?" she asked dumbly, as she stepped back towards the relative safety of the doorway.
"Of course Buckbeak," Sirius replied with amusement, "how many Hippogriffs do you think I've befriended on my travels?"
"If half the stories I've heard about your school days are true it could be any number," Hermione replied shortly, trying to ascertain if the being in front of her remembered their time together, hopefully his successful rescue was burnt into his memory.
Buckbeak had looked huge tied up next to Hagrid's hut; in the mid-sized bedroom of a London townhouse, he looked monumental. Hermione tried not to take her eyes away from Buckbeak's face, but she couldn't help noticing the assorted animal carcasses amongst what looked like a ruined side table the animal was using as bedding.
"That doesn't seem… sanitary," she heard herself say.
Sirius only gave a dry chuckle in response, and Hermione let herself believe that his lack of open hostility might mean he would be open to speaking to her.
One problem at a time, Hermione.
Pushing herself away from the wall she had sheltered against, Hermione slowly walked towards Buckbeak and steadily dropped into a sweeping bow, before waiting, hunched over, until Buckbeak returned her opening and then sat back down amongst his destruction and folded his vast wings over his body.
Hermione watched Buckbeak breathe for a few moments before she turned to look at Sirius on the other side of the room. He was further away from the window, so much so that he was almost entirely in shadow. While there were not the remains of small rodents littered around his feet, 'his side' could hardly be described as tidy.
Patches of the walls behind him had been viciously clawed at; faces had been ripped off photos and books were reduced to shreds. Other areas had been kept as pristine as it was possible for them to be in this mould infested residence. It was as if Sirius couldn't decide whether he wanted to remove every trace of memory or preserve it like a shrine.
"What are you doing here, Hermione?"
There was a hard and unfortunately familiar edge to Sirius' voice, and Hermione abruptly turned away from a tattered family picture she had been studying to face him. She gathered up her courage, and gave herself free reign to babble, knowing that if she left it too late to respond Sirius would impose his own conclusion about her presence and his imaginings were hardly likely to be favourable.
"It's about Harry, we, myself and Ron that is, we are worried about him. Dumbledore won't let us write, and before the end of term he was already so broken, he must be so lonely, and you of all people must know…" Hermione cut herself off, wishing that she had thought far enough ahead to plan what she wanted to say properly.
"What must I know, poppet?"
Hermione bit her lip and decided to be honest, she had never been much of a liar, especially when under pressure. "You understand what it feels like to blame yourself for something that isn't your fault-"
"How would you possibly…"
"-because of what you said in the Shack last year."
"You really do think you're smarter than everyone else don't you?" Sirius sneered.
Hermione sucked in a breath and fought the urge to bow to Sirius as a show of respect like she had with Buckbeak. "No, actually, I don't," she countered. "Especially not when it comes to people. I'm sorry… I only meant to ask if you could speak to the Order, to get Harry brought here. Surely he would be safer in this house, surrounded by all of these people than where he is now, alone and unprotected in the Muggle world, with people that don't love him."
Sirius was silent for what felt like an eternity, but Hermione managed to hold her tongue, mainly as she was terrified of what she might say if she opened her mouth again. She knew Ron would be struck dumb when she told him about this - after her scorn for his clumsy approach earlier she had managed to top it. That's right Hermione, approach the unstable, isolated wizard, violate his sanctuary/ personal hell, and while trying to get him onside, mention the worst event in his life.
After a long moment of fidgeting and self-chastisement, Sirius sighed and sank onto the end of his bed. "That's a nice idea, Hermione, it really is, but unless you haven't already noticed, I simply do not have the clout to get Harry here."
"But Sirius... "
"But nothing," he replied softly, "I do not have the power to control my own fate, let alone my godson's."
Hermione tried to think of something to say, but in her heart, she already knew she had lost their current battle. The silence descended again, and this time it was even more oppressive and only broken by the sound of Sirius shuffling through scrunched up copies of the Daily Prophet that lined the floor until he finally retrieved a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky.
Hermione had the fleeting notion that the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black was about to start on some cleaning mission of his own, and that thought lasted until he uncorked the bottle and glugged down a large enough measure to make Hermione wince.
"Sirius," Hermione said hesitantly, "it's ten in the morning."
Sirius looked at her while he rubbed the sleeve of his jumper over his wet lips. "Thank you for that, Hermione. I can assure you that while, admittedly, there were gaps in my education, I did learn to tell the fucking time."
Hermione had too, and she knew it was time for her to leave, now. Sirius was clearly at the end of his willingness to cooperate, and so Hermione gave a final bow to Buckbeak, even though the Hippogriff appeared to be sleeping, and put her hand on the door handle, depressingly happy to be returning to cleaning.
"He's lucky to have you, you know, Harry I mean."
Despite Sirius' words being uttered at a reasonable volume, Hermione wasn't entirely sure they were meant to be heard. She debated with herself on the threshold for a moment before turning back around. "He might not think that anymore, not now he has been left on his own for months."
"I was on my own for years, Hermione, left to rot away into nothingness" Sirius replied, "it doesn't stop you recognising what a friend looks like."
Hermione had to endure a further week of seemingly unending life at Grimmauld Place before Luna arrived. Her friend opened the front door and promptly blew away the cobwebs - both real and figurative - from Hermione's vision. If it hadn't been so desperately welcome, Hermione would have laughed at the sight of Luna and her father standing in the gloomy hallway. They couldn't have looked more out of place if they were trying, and if Hermione had learned anything about the Lovegoods, it was that nothing they ever did was pre-planned or done for effect.
They had been accompanied and seen over the magically enforced threshold by Tonks, a youngish, fairly clumsy Auror that Hermione had met the day before. Tonks' usually bubblegum pink hair had shifted to lime green, no doubt to show off her talent by matching Mr Lovegood's robes.
Hermione rushed downstairs as soon as she heard the first sign of a commotion, having been on high alert for Luna's arrival since breakfast.
"I wasn't sure you would be able to come here," Hermione began. She had asked Luna in her last letter where it would be best to meet; her friend had assured her that she would come to where Hermione was and offered no more detail or explanation than that.
Luna's father stepped forward, putting his daughter's trunk on the floor. "I am a member of the Order; in something of an auxiliary capacity. After all, one cannot rely on the Daily Prophet for an independent or truly representative press."
"No Daddy," Luna agreed gravely, "especially not now they have Heliopaths on their payroll."
"Indeed, fire spirits are unpredictable at the best of times, but when surrounded by people with corrupt morals their effects can be devastating."
Hermione followed the conversation between father and daughter like she was watching a tennis match. As much as the random words made her head spin, Hermione knew by now not to bother trying to interject or ask further questions; the answers would only add to her growing bafflement.
Seemingly finished with their discussion, Luna rooted around in a pocket at the front of her robes and eventually handed a folded piece of parchment to Hermione. "A map of Bulgaria," she said excitedly, "Daddy had it in his collection."
"A little out of date I'm afraid," Mr Lovegood conceded with a smile, "I've never been, but I've heard it's delightful. Thank you so much for inviting Luna, Miss Granger, I look forward to hearing all about your travels when you return. Anyway, I must be off. The paper does not run itself. Now darling," he said, turning to his daughter, "remember to-"
"-keep my eyes and ears out for Wrackspurts, I will Daddy."
Tonks offered to take Mr Lovegood to the nearest apparition spot, and one of the twins materialised and offered - worryingly gallantly - to carry Luna's case upstairs.
"I think we better check that trunk before we open it later, I always have a bad feeling whenever one of them is helpful."
Luna grinned, "It's so good to see you."
"You too."
"So, Bulgaria… are you ready?"
"Yes," Hermione answered succinctly.
Luna's head tilted to the side as she regarded Hermione carefully. "Just how terrified are you?"
"Very," Hermione replied just as quickly as she had before and Luna laughed.
Before she could offer any words of wisdom or otherwise, Ginny came down the stairs in a clatter to greet Luna warmly. "Come on ladies. My Mum is deep in dinner prep for the Order meeting tonight so we can make ourselves scarce for the next hour or so without fear of getting caught."
Despite the tight ship Mrs Weasley was running at number 12 Grimmauld Place, the girls were able to steal away into the living room nearest the front door and catch up undetected. It wasn't hard to understand why three such girls were so eager to spend time together; Hermione had never had many friends to speak of, especially not female ones; boys had surrounded Ginny since birth and Luna had never had anyone so much as try to understand her.
While they told stories of their holidays so far, people came in and out of the little sitting room with a great deal of regularity. Some stayed for a few moments to have a cup of tea or read from the stack of papers on one of the low coffee tables, and some only pushed their heads in the doorway for a quick greeting.
Though the space was undoubtedly musty and cramped, it was one of the nicer rooms in the house and one that the 'clean up crew', as they were calling themselves, had managed to make something of a success of.
Ginny and Hermione told Luna all they knew about the Order, which didn't take long, as well as the identities of each of the adults that dropped in. There were a few wizards Hermione hadn't yet met, but Luna was relatively well informed and could fill in some of the blanks thanks to her dads work on the Quibbler.
After a while of being blissfully undisturbed, Sirius and Remus entered their comfortable space. Unlike the others that had so far crossed the doorway, the two men did not acknowledge the small cluster of girls perched in three too big armchairs. Instead, they moved to the other side of the room and busied themselves with talking in hushed tones. Even from a distance, Hermione could see that Sirius was upset about something, and she tried to stop herself from watching too closely less she was rightly scolded for being nosey. Remus was trying to calm Sirius down already, and it wasn't her business, after all, she had her own headstrong Gryffindor friends to worry about. That and the fact that Hermione had been avoiding Sirius since she had last properly spoken to him. After their conversation about Harry, they had done little more than mumble greetings in the others direction if they happened to pass each other in the corridors.
Once Remus had apparently conceded whatever argument he was having with his friend and sank back into his seat, Hermione went back to concentrating on her own group. Neither Ginny or Hermione were at all shocked when, twenty minutes after the last of the Marauders had entered, Auror Tonks returned to the house and immediately joined the two men, sitting herself down on the arm of Remus' chair, despite there being a few others close by that she could have used.
When Luna looked at them blankly, Ginny sat forward and motioned that she would fill in their blonde friend later, it wouldn't be good to get caught speculating about the love life of a former professor, even if Mrs Weasley had loudly been doing so the day after the last meeting.
Molly had talked about Remus needing someone to look after him, how he needed fattening up and some of his clothes mended. Hermione felt that was probably one of the most depressing reasons imaginable to enter into a relationship; she knew Remus had had a hard life, but surely he should love his chosen partner, and not just be with them to alleviate loneliness, or avoid darning charms. But Hermione held her tongue. For all Hermione knew Remus desperately returned Tonks' affection, but as he would never be drawn on the subject, no matter which of the adults asked, she was unlikely ever to know.
There would be time to get Luna up to speed on the romantic melodrama captivating the Order in semi-privacy later. It had been decided that Luna would be sharing a room with Hermione and Ginny. There wasn't really space enough for two, let alone three teenagers, but none of the girls minded the decision, and it was a damn sight more favourable than sticking their friend in one of the countless decrepit rooms on her own, especially so soon after her arrival.
Hermione was telling Luna about her attempts at summer homework, and the ongoing adventures of Dragon when the door opened again. There had been so many comings and goings that afternoon that Hermione didn't even look up, not until she felt Ginny's sharp elbow in her ribs.
"What?" she hissed.
Ginny discreetly nodded her head in the direction of the door frame, and if Hermione didn't know any better, she would have said her friend was blushing. Walking in was an Auror Hermione did not recognise, she knew his profession, though he didn't have a uniform apart from a small badge pinned to his chest. Hermione knew, from her extensive reading, that higher ranking Aurors wore their own clothes, not dissimilar to the Muggle CID, though this wizard looked nothing like any law enforcement officer Hermione had ever seen in real life or on the telly. He was tall and broad, with the most amazing skin and eyes you could just get lost in.
"Kings!" Sirius called from the other side of the room, reminding all of the witches staring unblinkingly that there were other people present.
The wizard indulgently smiled at Sirius, and the expression took him from 'crane your neck to have a good look' attractive right up to 'Jesus Christ on a bicycle, is it hot in here, or is it just my insides melting?' breathtaking.
"Ladies," he greeted as he walked passed their chairs, and if Hermione had thought his face was compelling, it was nothing to his voice.
"Wow," she said, absently checking the order of her hair.
Ginny leant back against her chair and sighed. "You wouldn't think anyone could wear that much purple, and still look so damn good."
"Well, my Dad wears a lot of purples," Luna said, as she sat up to take another look. "Though... He looks rather different in it."
Their conversation continued to lull until they could hear Sirius' voice above all others. "Moony, do you remember when witches looked at us like that?"
"Honestly, Pads? Not even vaguely."
Though the underage amongst the houseguests were not allowed to join the Order meetings they were permitted to eat dinner with those that arrived for them. Hermione suspected that Mrs Weasley would have prefered it to be otherwise, and the only reason Molly didn't push the point was as she couldn't do two dinner servings on meeting days. If her hunch was correct, Hermione was grateful. The dinners were as close as Grimmauld Place got to exciting and she did her best to get to know everyone as well as she could. Hermione figured that it would give her a good shot at working out what they did for the Order, or at least, what the recruitment standard was.
For that night's meal, Hermione was sat in the middle of the table, with Luna on her right and Ginny opposite. Ron was at the other end, lost amongst his brothers that were in attendance. Unfortunately - it seemed a cruel word, but it was how she felt - Sirius was on her left. Though he largely ignored her, apart from carrying out what Hermione imagined were ingrained pureblood practices such as pouring her water, it was still awkward. Not because of anything Sirius himself was doing, as such, but because it put her in the front row for his nightly fight with Mrs Weasley. It had become as reliable as the damp that lined the walls and usually started over Sirius' drinking and went on from there. Mainly it was ignored, not just by those in attendance but by Sirius himself. Only tonight Mrs Weasley seemed more vicious than usual, and Hermione only just caught the warning glint in Sirius' eyes before things escalated.
"Kings," Sirius began, very deliberately pouring himself a liberal top up, "when is Dumbledore getting here? I want to talk to him about Harry; he should be here with us where it's safe."
Hermione avoided looking at the man next to her, though she did manage a smug glance at Ron.
Kingsley, however, did not manage to vocalise a response; instead, Molly interjected, and then they went back and forth about Harry and the appropriateness of the conversation concerning the underage people present until Mrs Weasley was so red she looked fit to explode. And then she did, verbally.
"He's not James, Sirius!"
A silence descended over the table as if the audience had taken a collective breath. Hermione didn't know the ins and outs of what had gone before, but she knew enough to realise Molly had crossed a line. When Sirius spoke again all of the violent energy had disappeared from his voice, replaced with ice like resolve.
"I'm fully aware of who he, of who my godson, is, thank you, Molly. I am the only family he has."
"He has us, we've always taken care of him."
"Then why aren't you doing that now?"
"Because we are following Dumbledore's orders, something you could try doing yourself. This is war, not a chance to relive your misspent youth."
Hermione did her best not look in either Mrs Weasley or Sirius' direction, as did most of the table, however, that only left her looking to where Tonks was once again in Remus' personal space.
Hermione couldn't say that she had much experience or even understanding of love, or, other urges that drew people together. One of the only couples she was around who showed any comprehension of respect and affection were her parents, and apart from the few stories they had shared, Hermione had no understanding of how their friendship moved from mutual interest to courtship and beyond. As such, Hermione felt she was watching proceedings with a very untrained eye, although she was no less interested than Ginny. Maybe that was why she couldn't work out if Remus was enjoying the attention of the young, vibrant witch, or, as his expression suggested, that he was in some sort of chronic abdominal pain.
Ginny leant across the table as the metamorphmagus tried yet another conversation tactic. "Doesn't know what an interested witch looks like my foot," the redhead sniggered.
Eventually, after pudding - a very intensely eaten apple crumble, with everyone's eyes firmly fixed on the bowl in front of them - the teenagers were dismissed.
"What the hell is going on with your mother? I'm going to have indigestion for hours. No one should have to eat a shepherds pie that quickly," Hermione whispered as strolled up the stairs, only to realise they were not as alone as she had previously thought.
His heavy boots gave scant warning before Sirius fell into step behind them. "Usually if someone is that uptight I begin to suspect a lack of sexual fulfilment, but considering there are seven of you," he said with a pointed look at Ginny, "I think I might be barking up the tree." Ginny looked green, but Sirius only smirked. "Maybe she just fancies me?"
Hermione saved a spluttering Ginny from response by asking her own question. "Aren't you staying for the meeting?"
"Not much point kitten, I'm not allowed to do anything," he grumbled before overtaking them and trudging up the next flight of stairs.
"He seems happier than your letters suggested," Luna observed.
Hermione sighed. "It's an ever moving feast."
Despite the tense atmosphere the house seemed to create, the few days they had planned for Luna to stay ahead of their trip past by quickly. The Extendable Ears that the twins promised would allow them to find out more once again failed, and the teens were pretty despondent after that. For Hermione and Ron, all they really cared about was Harry, and as none of the adults would be drawn into discussing their missing friend, Hermione absolved herself - at least for now - to go to Bulgaria without guilt.
Instead, Hermione focused on trying to keep Luna from cleaning, she was her guest, and while it was not her house - thank God - Luna was not a servant. Strangely, however, Luna seemed to enjoy the cleaning, or rather, conversing with the various indigenous species within Grimmauld Place, and, as well as talking to creatures 'within the walls', Luna had taken to spending time with Buckbeak. That Sirius didn't seem to mind was a miracle all in itself, and as such Hermione decided not to question it, in case it would break the spell.
Before they knew it the day for their visit dawned. Hermione had never travelled abroad magically, and though she was excited, her and magical travel did not have the best track record and it only added to her growing anxiety. Predictably, Luna's presence helped, her friend did not allow Hermione to dwell on negatives and would promptly cut her off if she began vocalising her seemingly unending list of 'what if' questions. Instead, Hermione focussed her energies on organising what was needed to be ready for the off. Her trunk had been packed for three days, though she hadn't been able to resist the temptation to reorganise it routinely. After a hard day scrubbing and banishing pixies or mould, it served as a reminder that she was going.
Soon after breakfast, they found themselves on the outskirts of London, in a small suburb where the houses all had neatly manicured hedges and lawn ornaments, waiting, as inconspicuously as possible, around a rather battered tennis ball.
Viktor had taken care of all of the arrangements and had seemed incredibly happy to do so, something Hermione was extremely glad of. Mrs Weasley had employed the tactic of not discussing Hermione and Luna's upcoming departure as if it wasn't happening, which was the best thing for everyone. Mr Weasley had been prevailed upon to drop them off - as unhappy as she may have been, Molly would never hear of the two of them going unaccompanied - and Viktor would be there to greet them when they arrived. Hermione tried to say that she was glad of that as well, but her real emotions seemed to be a sort of happily terrified? If there was such a feeling.
As they stood in a weird circle making polite conversation, routinely checking the time, Hermione was reminded of a similar occasion, when they had been taking the port key to the Quidditch World Cup.
Arthur indicated they had five minutes remaining and Hermione pulled Ginny into a hug. Her friend had flatly ignored her mother's request to help out Ron with an upstairs dressing room that morning and had instead insisted that she would be coming to see them off. Mrs Weasley had muttered something about being lucky she only had one girl to contend with before reluctantly releasing her youngest from her clutches.
"I cannot believe you are going without me," Ginny said despondently as Hermione pulled away.
"Now, Ginny," Arthur began, "I dare say there will be plenty of time for your own adventures," he said reassuringly as he pulled his daughter into his side. "You girls be good now, and if you need anything, or want to come back earlier than planned, for any reason, you just owl me okay?"
"Yes, Mr Weasley," Luna and Hermione responded in tandem.
All too soon, or finally, depending on the emotion that was driving Hermione at the time, Arthur told them to pick up their bags and grab the ball. Hermione did as instructed, though she couldn't shake the feeling that a dog had enjoyed a fair bit of time with this particular port key in his mouth.
Hermione looked at Luna, who had been typically calm all morning, even when faced with Hermione's growing nerves and Ginny's upset. "Thank you for coming with me," Hermione said quietly, "I might have chickened out otherwise."
"Of course, Hermione, where else would I be?" Luna replied with a smile. "But I am sure you would have come."
"Really?"
"Of course, it's scary now, but when we were at Hogwarts, you used to say that when you were with Viktor, everything seemed simpler. Do you remember?"
"Yes," Hermione replied. She did remember that it was funny how in all of the build-up she had forgotten how he made her feel when they were together.
"It will be like that again."
Hermione nodded, resolved to face whatever would follow and then the tennis ball began to glow. There was no more time for insecurities. They were on their way.
Hermione felt sick, and not the kind of sick like she'd had that morning which had meant she could only anxiously nibble on a piece of toast. This nausea came not from butterflies but from being whipped through the air and hurtled through space as if your body was attempting to break the sound barrier without your consent. Hermione had said it before, and she would repeat it until she no longer drew breath, she bloody hated magical travel.
The next sensation Hermione was aware of was the absolute certainty that she was going to fall, just like she had when they had arrived at the World Cup the previous year, which really would not have been the best start to seeing Viktor again, beginning on her bum.
Mired in her embarrassment for an event that hadn't even happened yet it took Hermione's mind a few moments to register that she had stopped moving and that her feet had not hit the ground. Instead, she was being held against something, someone… Viktor.
"You caught me," Hermione said absently against his shirt.
Viktor smiled down at her - had his smile always been so wonderfully reassuring? - "I think you have been away too long Hermione, you forget that catching is my speciality."
He held Hermione there, his arms banded around her tightly until he gently placed her on the ground, allowing her to step away from him. Viktor was everything she remembered only more. Hermione was sure she had never seen him without some huge winter coat on before - apart from when they had first met - though, in the beautiful, warm but breezy day one wouldn't have been needed. Viktor was wearing a button down shirt in a brilliant white that made the darkness of his hair stand out, and he shifted around awkwardly enough to indicate to Hermione that it had probably been a deliberate 'make an effort' choice. She thought of the pale pink jumper she had pulled on that morning, with its pearl applique neckline and tortoiseshell buttons on the back and smiled. The top had been from a pile of clothes her mum had added to her trunk 'just in case'. Hermione had been embarrassed at the time but she felt glad of it now.
"Hi," Hermione eventually managed as she nervously twisted the bag strap on her shoulder.
"Hello, Hermione," Viktor returned softly.
At first, Hermione thought Viktor would say more until he suddenly shook his head and abruptly turned to apologise to Luna for not helping her with her own landing. Hermione would have been amused if she hadn't been stunned only just to remember herself that she and Luna had been travelling together. Her friend had had no issue with her descent from the sky, and Luna and Viktor shared a warm greeting, that was a lot less intense than the one that had preceded it.
"I take you home now, okay?" Viktor asked as he guided them towards a well-trodden path. "I would offer to apparate but it is not a strong suit of mine, and with two of you it would be difficult."
"That's fine," Hermione replied quickly, she would much rather walk anyway.
The girls walked on either side of their 'guide', and after a few seconds, Hermione smiled when she felt Viktor wrench her bag off her shoulder and put it on her own. She made no protest, and her grin widened when his warm, familiar, comforting hand engulfed hers.
Hermione hadn't been sure what to expect with regard to where the Krum's lived. She had seen enough mention of the age of Viktor's family, and their apparent wealth, in the scathing Witch Weekly articles, to know it would be grand, but anything else was a mystery.
Hermione had never cared much about property, and even less about titles, so she wasn't sure what to call the building they were ushered into. Manor or something similar she supposed, though that seemed too pretentious for the feeling it gave her. The grounds were extensive and gorgeous, and the inside even more beautiful. She was relieved when Viktor hadn't stopped them outside to 'take a good look at the house', like some gentleman of old presenting chattel for a ladies approval. To Viktor, it was just his home, and his attitude made Hermione less conscious about the three-bed semi she had grown up in.
After removing their shoes at the main entrance, Viktor reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand. "I have to go, I am very sorry to do this so soon after you have arrived, but I have to train. I have arranged to miss some sessions over the next few days, but I need to go to this one."
Hermione was initially disappointed, but she didn't hold it against Viktor in the least. She knew from his letters how hard he had been working, and he had already prepared her, so she knew he had some unavoidable obligations over the coming week.
Before Viktor could apologise again, a large door at the end of the corridor opened, and Sofiya Krum swept into the hallway looking every bit as effortlessly glamorous as Hermione remembered. "Viktor, are you still here?" she asked teasingly.
Viktor rolled his eyes at Hermione before turning to greet his mother. "Yes, Mama, I am just going."
"Well go then, your coach will not wait, and you are not even in your kit. I will look after our Hermione and Miss Lovegood."
In one swift movement, Sofiya managed to wave her son away and sweep Hermione into a hug. "It is lovely to see you again Hermione, and Miss Lovegood it is wonderful to meet you. Come, let us have tea."
The 'small' sitting room Sofiya took them to was approximately the same size as the ground floor or Hermione's house but for all that it was cosy, peaceful, and decorated in a palette of blue and silver with, thankfully, not a speck of dust to be seen.
"Thank you for letting us stay," Hermione said as she was handed a cup and Luna echoed her sentiments.
"Do not be so ridiculous, no thanks are needed, I am delighted you are here. I cannot tell you how much I have been looking forward to having you. We only had the one child, and then all of Viktor's close friends were boys, I confess I feel quite outnumbered at times. While you are here, you must treat the house like it's your own. Viktor will show you to your rooms when he is back from training, and tomorrow we can take you on a tour of the grounds to help you get your bearings."
The girls quickly expressed their agreement while Sofiya passed around cakes and asked after their journey.
"Now, girls, you must tell me all about yourselves, the only information I have is from my son, and while Viktor talks of you often," Sofiya said with a pointed look at Hermione, "you must understand that it is all through the filter of a man, and as such I never hear any of the information I want."
Luna grinned impishly, "What would you like to know?"
Viktor arrived home three hours later in significantly more pain than he was generally in following a practice. His concentration had not been what it should have, and he had paid the price with a few Bludgers to the ribs, as well as the harassing of his teammates who knew all about his request for leave and his reason why.
Not wanting Hermione to see him in such a state, Viktor entered through the kitchens and showered before going in search of his guests. He found them pretty quickly, they were ensconced in his mother's favourite sitting room, lounging on sofas with a forgotten tea tray between them. Sofiya was telling a story from her school days that Viktor had heard several hundred times before and as he hadn't been noticed he took the opportunity to observe Hermione.
She looked exactly as he remembered, which was no real surprise as he had seen her only months before, and yet she seemed more real sitting in his house laughing with his mother. Her head was resting against the back of her chair, and her curls spilt over the brocade covering. Not wanting to get caught staring, especially by his mother, Viktor made a show of making noise to announce himself and pushed the door open further as if he had just arrived.
"Ah, Viktor, you have returned, could you take the girls up to their rooms? I believe they might want to unpack and explore a little bit before dinner."
"Of course Mama, we will see you at later."
Hermione thanked Sofiya for the tea, and the two girls followed Viktor up the main staircase, asking about his training session. Luna's room was first on the corridor, and Viktor was pointing out Hermione's door further down when Milenka came speeding around the corner, narrowly avoiding a slim side table and crashing into the girls that were unfamiliar to her.
"She's excitable," Hermione said with a laugh, righting herself before dropping down to pet Milenka head.
"She needs a walk," Viktor explained, "would you like to come? It would be good way to see the close grounds."
"I would like that," Hermione replied, more shyly than he had expected, and Viktor found himself stepping forward without conscious thought.
"I think I might stay here if you don't mind, I'm rather tired."
Luna's voice shook Viktor out of his thoughts and reminded, once again, him that he was supposed to be hosting two people.
"No, that is no problem at all, we will come and find you when we get back so I can show you the dining room."
Viktor then stepped back to allow Hermione and Luna a few words before showing the former to her own room. Though he saw Luna make a friendly shooing gesture towards Hermione, he ignored it.
Hermione made quick work of looking around her room and dropping off her bag before she and Viktor were on their way down to the kitchens. This time, like after he had met them from the port key, he pulled her small hand in his with little hesitation. Viktor had no idea how long it would be before he had the chance to visit with her again, or if she would even want to. Viktor was determined to take all of the opportunities he was offered, and to invent as many as he could.
"I think I like your friend all the more for her desire to remain well rested."
Hermione hit his arm as ineffectually as she always did, and Viktor grinned.
The kitchen was, as usual, a hive of activity. For the most part, the family elves allowed Viktor to continue using this part of the house, only because he stayed out of their way. He had told Hermione all about the elves they had in residence, and even though she had heartly expressed her distaste for the practice, Viktor was convinced she could be brought around, especially if she happened to witness one of them hitting his father when he came in to swipe biscuits before dinner.
As Viktor opened a cupboard to get Milenka's lead, Hermione stood off to the side watching the ongoing work, until she spied some of the care baskets he had been putting together all summer, resting on the end of the nearest workbench.
"Oh, are these for one of your mum's projects? She was talking about her charity work earlier."
"No its…"
But before Viktor could finish, Hermione had turned over the label and had no doubt seen a very familiar address.
Viktor rubbed the back of his neck, he hadn't intended Hermione to find out like that. He was always going to tell her what he had done in case she found out from Harry. But, unsure of her reaction, he hadn't planned to mention it on their first day together.
"You told me about Potter and I… I thought about what you would do if you could have..."
"Viktor," Hermione tried to interject.
"... I should have asked you first, and I know that you did not…"
"Viktor," Hermione said again, louder this time.
"Was it the wrong thing to do?"
Instead of replying, Hermione pushed up onto her toes and placed her hands on either side of his face, looking into his eyes searchingly for a long moment before she kissed him sweetly, determinedly, but all too briefly. When she pulled away, she stayed close, smiling at him. "Viktor you are amazing, I can't tell you what this means to me, what it will mean to Harry. Thank you."
Viktor didn't let her go, he couldn't, not with her so close. Instead, he waited until she had planted her feet and then returned her kiss. He was a little rougher with her than Hermione had been with him, but he couldn't have held himself back if he tried, which he definitely wasn't. It was strange to realise he hadn't truly appreciated how much he had missed her until Hermione was standing in front of him, offering her affection.
Viktor had known from the moment he met Hermione that if they pursued any kind of relationship, there would be a separation in their immediate future. He had known that distance would be a part of his life as soon as he had chosen his profession. He had expected it. But Hermione hadn't, her feelings were a variable, and now she was stood in his family home, with her soft hands on his rough cheeks, thanking him for intervening in her life, for trying to take care of something for her, for acting like a partner.
"I would send Potter a thousand baskets if that is the way you choose to say thank you."
She smiled at him as her cheeks flushed and the last few weeks melted away. Hermione leaned forward as if she would kiss him again only they were knocked into by Milenka, who clearly felt she had been ignored for long enough.
"Okay, okay, I get it, we'll take you for a walk," Hermione exclaimed as she took the leash off the side and clicked it around Milenka's leather collar.
"Hermione," Viktor said as he watched her playfully wrestle with his dog.
"Yes?"
He stepped right up behind her and pulled her into his body, wrapping his arms around Hermione's middle until she sagged against him and he kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad you are here."
"Me too, Viktor, me too."
A/N: Hey everyone, well we're finally here! More fun and togetherness to come. I had particular fun writing Ron's sausages line, and that is 100% the level of subtly I have seen my husband deliver on more than one occasion :) Thank you to everyone that has reviewed and added to lists since this one came back x