By the time everyone sat down for breakfast the next day, the atmosphere had significantly cooled. Sirius wasn't present, but that was hardly unusual; on an average day, no one could expect to see him until early afternoon, therefore, his absence wasn't taken to mean that he was suffering any lingering effects from the night before. Hermione wondered if specific things even bothered Sirius anymore, or if each new tragedy was just water added to the wave that seemed to crash over him from the moment he woke. She supposed it didn't matter how he felt the pain, just that he did, and that everyone else seemed powerless, or in some cases unwilling, to help him.
Molly was present, though any similarities she may have held to the witch they had seen at dinner were lost as Bill had arrived late the night before and all of her time and attention were spent fussing over him. The reprieve was delightful for everyone, well, except Bill. Mrs Weasley talked about his job at the bank and his rising reputation with the goblins and Hermione, Ron and Ginny exchanged amused glances as Bill was soundly henpecked for his earing and the length of his hair. For most men with such vibrant red hair, the choice to grow it out could have been misguided, but on Bill, it looked great.
The eldest Weasley wasn't Hermione's type, not that she was entirely sure she had one, but she could see why others would find him attractive, and it seemed even Luna wasn't impervious to his charms as she almost dropped an entire spoon of cereal over her skirt when he first started talking. Hermione had kicked her from her place opposite, and Luna had blushed but shrugged in a 'can you blame me?' kind of way that made Hermione laugh, something she hadn't been readily able to explain to the rest of the table so and she had quickly got back to her toast.
Viktor excused himself to get ready for the day, whispering to Hermione not to go running away with curse-breakers with a grin on his face that she returned and before long the only people left at the table were herself, Harry and Professor Lupin.
Hermione'd had too much on her mind to sleep well, and so she had stayed around to have a second cup of tea. Professor Lupin seemed to be preoccupied with his own thoughts, and Harry had only come downstairs when they were already halfway through the meal. Mrs Weasley had promptly forgotten about her firstborn for the first time that morning and had swiftly pulled a plate together for Harry, he had thanked Mrs Weasley and then said nothing further.
Harry looked as if he had slept as poorly as she had and Hermione was both biting down her urge to coddle him at the same time as searching for an opener that would seem innocuous yet interesting enough to tempt him to answer. Navigating the ever-changing tides of social norms were never Hermione's strong suit, and as such, she nearly threw her hands up in relief when Professor Lupin set down his cup and turned his attention to Harry.
"What do you have on for today, Harry?" he kindly asked as he picked up a lingering piece of crispy bacon from one of the large serving platters that had been left on the table.
Harry stopped picking at the toast on his plate long enough to shrug. "Don't really know. I guess I should start on my prep reading, now that I have my books."
"I could help you if you want?" Hermione asked hesitantly, and Harry's head snapped to hers with a much less sanguine expression.
"You're okay thanks, Hermione," he said, with false politeness that he didn't try to hide. "I'm sure you've got much more important things to do than worry about me."
"Harry I-"
"Save it," he interrupted before pushing back his chair so hard it scraped against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.
In the rickety old house, Hermione could hear every stomping step he took, all the way back to his bedroom before his door slammed and the house was quiet once again.
Hermione was lost to her thoughts, so when she felt a large hand land on her shoulder, she jolted. She hadn't even registered that Remus had got up from the table. "Hermione-" he began kindly, and Hermione felt her throat itch. It wouldn't do for someone to be kind to her right now. Her eyes became watery, and she interrupted before her former professor could say anymore.
"It's okay," she replied weakly, "if I were in his shoes, I would feel the same."
She had expected Remus to leave, thereby removing himself from further childhood histrionics, Hermione imagined he'd got enough of that while he was working as a teacher. But unexpectedly, professor Lupin pulled out the chair next to her and fell into it with a sigh. "When Sirius came back from Azkaban, and we were able to have a proper conversation for the first time, he screamed himself hoarse," he said as his eyes lifted towards the ceiling.
Hermione felt a little sick remembering Sirius as had been in the shack, rabid and manic, it had been terrifying as a child facing danger again with her friends, though now that she now more of the man her fear had gone, it just made her feel sad.
"It wasn't your fault, Remus," Hermione replied mechanically, not a hundred per cent sure she agreed with her words. Remus hadn't been much older than them when Sirius had been imprisoned, and from what she had learned before that they had spent almost a year at odds, doubting each other in the face of the growing conflict. Yet still, she couldn't imagine the same happening to her friends and not doing anything about it.
Hermione looked over at Remus' scarred face and sighed, if there was anyone less convinced of his ability to change the world around him she hadn't met them. Her father would say she was full of the ideals of youth, but she was learning that the system didn't always work. Maybe Remus' protests would have achieved nothing, but in her heart of hearts, she believed he should have tried.
As if reading her thoughts, Remus sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling once again. "Thank you, Hermione, but I'm not sure I can agree with you. I should have done something."
Hermione nodded, "I should have too. I know Professor Dumbledore had his reasons, but I knew how upset Harry was when we left Hogwarts. I should have sent a letter and faced the consequences afterwards."
"Deep down he knows why you didn't contact him, he even knows he might have acted the same way."
"Not Harry," Hermione said immediately with total conviction, "Harry would have sent a letter no matter the consequences."
Remus regarded her as he had so often while he was her teacher. "You do not have his rebellious streak, Hermione, it's hardly a capital crime. Not like mine. He should forgive you, and he will."
"Sirius has forgiven you?"
"Of course," he answered brightly though his eyes looked pained. "He was always the best friend amongst us, he forgave us from transgressions more easily than anyone else, possibly because to Sirius we were his family. But he will never forget, and maybe that's for the best."
After deciding that a third cup of tea before ten in the morning was probably not the best idea, Hermione left a sombre looking Remus in the kitchen and ventured up the rickety, woodworm invested staircase to Viktor's room. By the second flight, Hermione realised how being out of Hogwarts for nearly two months had impacted her conditioning.
The corridor was quiet when she finished climbing, and it was no wonder, there was only one other occupied room on the floor. While Viktor had managed to score a private bedroom, Molly had put him into the room furthest away from the one Hermione was sharing with Luna and Ginny, it didn't feel like a coincidence.
After softly knocking on the door, Hermione found Viktor sat at his desk, on the only chair in the sparse room, leafing through a stack of papers each with a coloured bar on the top.
"Mastery," he said, answering her unasked questioned as he smiled in greeting.
Hermione walked over to him to look over his shoulder. She couldn't glean much, he worked in Bulgarian, and she was still finding the language woefully tricky. "Is it sad to say I'm almost jealous?" Hermione asked without feeling as self-conscious as she once would have. "I've finished all of my summer work."
Viktor chuckled as he performed the same translation charm he had demonstrated in front of her so many months before and then handed her over one of the stacks for her to get a better look. Hermione took another needless glance around the room as she debated where to sit, though she already knew what the only option was, the bed. She supposed in this instance, it was less suggestive than his lap - a place she had comfortable sat many times at Hogwarts - and yet weirdly it felt more so.
Viktor continued to pull around papers and so, convinced he wasn't paying too much attention, Hermione sat on the very edge of the bed, so close to the side in fact that she felt as if she could fall off at any moment, and yet the real chance of landing on the floor still seemed preferable to getting comfortable on the scratchy cover he would be using for a couple of days.
The silence stretched between them and after a time, it was all Hermione could focus on, in place of their usual, comfortable banter were the groans and toing and froing of the house around them. Just as Hermione began to debate leaving again, Viktor abruptly stood with a laboured sigh before turning his chair to face her
"It was not like this in Bulgaria," he began plainly, and Hermione nodded. "Or Hogwarts."
"No. But it was different there," she tried to explain.
"There is an atmosphere here, I understand," Viktor said the word as if he was testing it out though he couldn't have been more right.
"It's not about you, not really, it's just that tensions are high, with Harry and Mrs Weasley and Sirius. No one knows what's going on."
Viktor nodded. "I think if I were to get caught kissing you in the doorway here, I would get worse than a cuff around the ears," he observed with a wink and Hermione felt relieved to laugh. Her mind flooded with the memory of that morning and Hermione was astonished to realise how long ago it already felt. She had taken such open displays of affection for granted while she was staying with Viktor, such freedoms seemed lost to her now. Lost to both of them.
Hermione had left the door open when she first came in; despite wanting nothing more than a little privacy and sanctuary from the madness of the house. It didn't seem worth risking it the possible insinuations that would follow, not after Molly's behaviour and Sirius' warnings the night before. However, it was a decision Hermione came to regret when, just after the awkward silence had been broken, the door was pushed open, and the twins came bounding.
"Interrupting something are we?" Fred enquired as he folded his arms across his chest and tried to look serious. He failed. Mainly because of the excessive wagging of his eyebrows.
"Come on, Hermione, there's cleaning to be done," George said as he pulled on her hand encouragingly.
"I'm talking to Viktor," Hermione protested, shaking him off.
"Sure you are," Fred said.
"That's why we're here," George replied.
"Can't have Grimmauld Place becoming a house of ill repute."
"I beg your pardon," Hermione seethed, and Fred tutted.
"No underage witches in rooms with wizards while unsupervised," George instructed in a shockingly accurate mimic of Argus Filch.
"Who knows what kind of hokey pokey could be going on."
"Hokay what?" Viktor asked, and Hermione felt her temper sore. She glanced at Viktor who was looking between the twins like a spectator at a tennis match, a spectator that had turned up to find that the centre court at Wimbledon had been carved up into raised beds for marrows.
"We are six feet apart," she protested through gritted teeth.
"Now, you are," Fred said dismissively.
"But who knows what would have happened if we had been ten minutes later," George chimed in.
"Obviously, we intend no slight on your prowess, Viktor."
"Oh, of course not. I'm sure ten minutes would mean you'd barely be getting started."
"An athlete of his calibre, one would hope so Georgie."
"Indeed, they would Fred; indeed, they would."
Viktor rolled his eyes and dramatically slumped in his seat and Hermione pushed her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. Despite his display, she could see the pink in Viktor's cheeks from the turn the subject had taken and she thanked her lucky stars Ginny was nowhere within hearing distance.
Knowing that the twins were likely to keep up their shenanigans until she capitulated, and not wanting Viktor to be subjected to any more of it while he was trying to work, Hermione got up. "I'll see you later," she softly said to Viktor and handed back his paperwork.
"You are leaving, with them?" Viktor asked with a raised eyebrow, and Hermione smiled.
"They may seem like idiots, but deep down, they have good intentions, very deep down. I have a strong suspicion that if they're up here, Molly is back from wherever she disappeared to after breakfast."
Viktor sighed and grabbed her hand as she tried to pull away. "Someday there will not be so many interruptions."
Hermione shrugged in an attempt to cover her awkwardness before herding the twins out of the room. As the door closed, Hermione rounded on both of them before taking off in a march towards the ground floor.
"Boys, you really are being ridiculous, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."
"No chance, Hermione," Fred scoffed.
"If you'd have seen the way you were looking at him at dinner last night," George continued with a shake of his head.
"A lustful gaze, wouldn't you say Georgie?"
"I certainly would Forge, I certainly would."
"The dear boy could have been in real trouble."
"You cornering him in his room like that."
"The poor lamb."
By this point, Hermione was blushing so hard she wasn't sure how there was enough blood left in her body to allow her to continue walking. Fred grinned at her red splattered cheeks and bumped her shoulder. "Come on Granger, you brought a boy home, you should have known you were going to get pasted."
"Consider yourself lucky," George added, "imagine how bad we'll be when Ron brings a witch to dinner."
Hermione both sincerely hoped to be present and to be as far away as possible when such a dinner took place.
Far too soon for her liking, Hermione once again found herself in a ratty jumper with the sleeves pushed back and an unfamiliar cleaning solution in her hands. Fortunately, she had been found by Viktor after the twins had gone off in search of further mischief, and with her guest's help, she had been working on clearing an unknown infestation from the large, dark curtains that lined the far side wall of the attic. So far it had been resistant to anything they had tried, and this afternoon Mrs Weasley had given her a product of her own creation as a last-ditch attempt.
Molly had handed her the bottle with a rough explanation of the contents 'in case Hermione found it useful someday'. Hermione hoped it was unlikely that she ever owned a home that needed innovative solutions to get it sanitary enough to be lived in, but once again she kept her mouth shut and prayed that her return to Hogwarts would come around before she bit through her tongue entirely.
Despite the nature of their task for the afternoon, Viktor was in an uncharacteristically bright mood. Though Hermione had never believed him to be half as sullen as the rest of the world seemed to, she wouldn't have called him carefree either. Viktor just wasn't a what-will-be-will-be kind of person, he was laid back, and he rarely imposed his opinion on anyone, but he was also serious. His sobriety was one of the things Hermione liked most about him, not least because it made her feel far less conscious of her own disposition.
Hermione had always been more self-aware than any young person could happily be, and she was sure she wasn't a girl that anyone described as 'fun to be around'. After meeting Viktor, she considered that maybe 'fun' was a more relative term than she had previously thought. If they could be happy working together side by side in the library, enjoying a few whispered words whenever they could, did it matter if anyone else thought such a thing was enjoyable?
Hermione uncapped the unique solution, doused the curtains in front of the largest window and took several quick steps back as a cloud of blueish smoke began to curl out from underneath them. Viktor only shrugged when he saw the reaction, and so Hermione didn't see much point in worrying about it. With nothing else to do but wait, Hermione took advantage of the peace and folded herself down against the furthest wall.
Under the guise of practising for his next session with his master, Viktor made full use of the wand he was allowed to carry by transfiguring bits of debris into various articles of cleaning paraphernalia and had them zoom around the room. He stopped when the feather duster he charmed intentionally bopped Hermione on the nose but somewhat unintentionally caused her to sneeze. He folded down next to her and rubbed her back until she finished sneezing, but Hermione waved off his apologies, she was more taken with studying the ornately carved, gold inlay handle of the duster that had landed in her lap.
"This is rather beautiful," she observed as she ran a finger down the conjured wood. Transfiguration was easily one of her favourite subjects, but she had never worked on anything with this level of detail.
"Are you impressed?" Viktor asked with a raised eyebrow and Hermione made an effort to mask her rabid curiosity behind a more neutral expression.
"It's a little over the top for a duster," she replied primly, and Viktor laughed.
"One day, I will blow you away with my magic, then you will gush and tell me how amazing I am."
"Don't you get enough of that from Quidditch?"
"I get none of that from you for Quidditch," Viktor reminded her archly, "so I will have to settle for how gifted I am with transfiguration."
"Keep practising," Hermione said with a cheeky smile and passed the duster back to him.
"You should have told me when we met that you were such a mean witch," Viktor protested with an exaggerated pout.
"You should have known how it would be between us when our first meeting ended with you in considerable pain."
The smile dropped from Viktor's lips, but his face remained warm as he brushed a thumb across her cheek. "Maybe I did. Maybe I to one look at you and decided it was worth it regardless."
Hermione laughed to cover the fact he had stolen away her voice and buried her head in his shoulder while she collected herself. The blue smoke began to dissipate, and if Hermione concentrated on the quiet, she was sure she could hear a faint thunking sound. She really didn't want to look to see what might have dropped out of the mouldy upholstery. She picked up the duster that was now lying limply in Viktor's fingers and studied the handle again.
"In all seriousness, could you show me how you did that? The carving is amazing."
Even though she couldn't see Viktor's face, Hermione could feel his smug smile in the lines of his body. She nestled closer against his chest as he began to explain the process in a calm, warm tone.
-/-/-/-
Viktor rearranged himself on the floor until he was satisfied he could demonstrate the required wand movements without disturbing Hermione, who was still pressed against his chest. He broke down the complicated incantation he had used into four distinct parts. The spell was at the simpler end of the work he would be expected to master over the next two years, but he knew that Hermione would not have covered certain parts of the theory in her schooling so far. Though, he didn't have a problem explaining it to her by extrapolating from less advanced principles that he knew she was already familiar with.
Viktor wondered at how much easier it was to be himself now that he had her. He had always been conscious of himself and the way he spoke, even without the language barrier, he would never be a poetic man. He was far too practical and yet over the months he had come to know Hermione, he had found that she earnestly didn't seem to care, it freed him up in ways he hadn't been expecting. For the first time in his life, Viktor found that he spoke freely with someone outside of his immediate family and close friends. Even if he blundered, forgot a word of misused a phrase, Hermione would simply try to help him unpick it. It was rather alarming to consider that before now, he had thought that the most he might get was some who tolerated his weaknesses to benefit from the upsides of his profession and notoriety. He knew now he wouldn't settle for anything less than someone that could see entirely past it.
Viktor turned the duster back into a feather and began transfiguring it, slower than he had before. As the gilding work began to appear - as if the gold were being poured down the carvings - Hermione felt heavier against him. Viktor suspected she was falling asleep, she hadn't looked like she had slept well the night before and given the constant drama of this household he wasn't surprised.
Viktor had just finished speaking when the attic door opened, and Sirius Black walked in. The older wizard may have appeared more serene than the twins, but Viktor was under no illusion that he was there for an entirely different reason.
Viktor almost scoffed when he remembered that he had been relieved that coming along on this trip hadn't meant meeting Hermione's parents yet. He was rather anxious to make a good impression on David Granger, and he had wanted to take a bit more time to prepare than Hermione's sudden letter allowed. But, to Viktor, David Granger had more in his favour with each interruption he was forced to put up with. Most notably that he was only one man, and there were only so many times he could force his presence upon them in a single day. A problem not faced by a household of busybodies.
In her tired state, it took Hermione a few moments to register that they were now observed and Viktor knew the exact moment she noticed Sirius as her spine stiffened before she arched her head.
"Can I borrow Viktor for a moment?"
If Viktor hadn't been so irritated about being removed from such a comfortable position he might have laughed at the kind sounding request Mr Black made, especially considering it was asked directly of Hermione and not himself.
Hermione sighed, and the exaggerated burst of air sent curls flying over the front of Viktor's jumper. "Would it be possible for me to spend ten minutes in his presence without being interrupted?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about poppet," Sirius replied nonchalantly, though with a grin that told them both he was aware of the twin's actions earlier. Viktor suspected that the entire household already knew, the brothers didn't seem the type to be able to keep a thought in their head, much less hold back on sharing something they thought was funny.
"Fine," Hermione huffed, "but maybe you can ask anyone else that wants a word today to keep it to themselves?"
"Hermione," Viktor interrupted and kissed the side of her head to smooth her ruffled feathers. "It is fine, I will see you later."
Viktor didn't see the point in avoiding a conversation he had known would happen eventually, he was even minded to tolerate Mr Black's enquiries further than he would have from most. Firstly because they were staying in his house and he had been raised show manners as well as to respect his elders. Also, Viktor couldn't ignore that Mr Black had stood up for him the night before, even though it had been plain for anyone to see that he wanted to avoid Mrs Weasley like the plague. Viktor had also detected what he thought to be genuine affection for Hermione in Sirius' actions, not all the time, but on the odd occasion, his underlying feelings seemed to peak through without Mr Black noticing.
In so many of the relationship dynamics Viktor had witnessed around his girlfriend over the past year, Hermione was the caregiver and not a care receiver. She was the 'mum' of the group. Hermione fussed over her friends and supported them when they struggled, whether they liked it or not. Viktor didn't yet know whether the lack of reciprocation was because it was done in private and he simply didn't see it, or because her friends believed Hermione was too strong to need it, or even that she was actively refusing help. In Viktor's estimation, Hermione's relationship with Sirius seemed more balanced than most.
Once Hermione had glared at Sirius long enough to ease her irritation, Mr Black led Viktor outside, through the mercifully deserted kitchen, and into a small patch of worn grass lined with ancient paving masquerading as a garden. It wasn't much, but Viktor was immensely grateful to be outside. He had been cooped up in the house since they had first arrived, and he could feel the lingering tension seep from his body as the gentle wind hit his face.
Mr Black moved to the far side of the space and removed a considerable disillusionment charm, unveiling a motorbike and sidecar that thrummed with magical energy.
"It's not much," he said as he discarded his robe and opened up a box of not particularly well-organised tools, "but it beats being in there most days. The garden is more extensive than what you can see but in no better condition. In any case, the Fidelis only extends this far, so we have to stay within the confines to remain safe… Or so Dumbledore tells me."
His words were tinged with a bitterness Viktor didn't understand, but he thought better of questioning it. Viktor imagined that Mr Black's emotional state was not the reason he had been summoned to the garden and so instead, he decided to play along and hopefully speed up whatever the older wizard had in mind.
Viktor gestured towards a set of wrenches that Sirius had laid out on the cracked paving. "Can I help?"
Mr Black eyed him shrewdly before shrugging in reply. He showed Viktor a spot underneath the sidecars body that needed mending - something about it not having been built for a half-giant - and then crudely explained what was needed in layman's terms until Viktor understood.
They worked in silence for ten minutes or so, and Viktor got lost in the task at hand, thankful that he hadn't been dispatched to clean another cupboard or condition a carpet. He had never been very good at cleaning, he didn't have any natural affinity for the particular set of charms it required, but this he could handle. Coming from Durmstrang Viktor had been conditioned to 'hard labour', and as the focus often needed meant that everyone else around him was as quiet as he was, he was left with enough time and peace to organise his thoughts. Such times had been a blessing for an introvert at a boys boarding school and had probably been one of the early indicators of how he would succeed in his chosen profession. There was nowhere more peaceful than hundreds of feet up in the air.
The downside of having enough time to process your thoughts were the realisations that came along with it. In this case, the recognition that Filip was literally going to kill him when he found out he had asked Hermione to be his girlfriend. Not only because Viktor had done so without the planned fanfare - or even any notion of the heartfelt declaration his friend had insisted upon - but also because Filip and Mikhail had both been in the pub when it happened and Viktor hadn't let on.
When he looked up to move out of the light so he could check his work so far, Viktor found Mr Black was regarding him with an amused smile pulling at his lips. "You and Hermione are not very alike, are you?"
Viktor straightened up and considered the question come observation. He didn't immediately agree, in many ways he felt himself and Hermione were very similar, but then, he wasn't exactly sure what the older wizard was referring to.
Sirius chuckled. "If I had called Hermione out here for a chat and then set about fixing my bike, she would have nearly burst with the need to pester me with questions about what I wanted. Not you though. You're either very calm or very good at faking it."
Viktor couldn't fault Sirius' deduction, he very much suspected the man was right, but he wasn't a lover of games, verbal or otherwise, and he was beginning to lose patience with the entire Order and their seemingly endless need to hear the sound of their own voices. Wasn't the whole point of these people being here that they had a war coming? Surely they had more important things to do with their time?
"What is it you want from me?"
The happy expression died on Sirius' face in an instant, and he twirled a washer in his fingers as he leant against his bike. "I wanted to get an idea of your intentions towards Hermione."
Viktor tilted his head as his arms crossed over his chest. "Why do I owe you an explanation?" he asked politely but forcefully. His father had taught him that a man did not need to explain his actions to all and sundry, only to those people that had earned his respect and trust.
Sirius' face remained blank, but Viktor was sure he could detect something of a twinkle in his eye, it reminded him that somewhere within the gaunt, burdened wizard in front of him was a man much younger than his parents.
"I was wrong," Sirius barked out with a dry chuckle, "maybe you are more alike than I thought, in some ways."
Viktor debated what to say, but in the end, he went with his gut; honesty was always the best option when you were on solid ground. "I care for her, I will treat her kindly and with respect." Well, it was honest, it was just… edited, and in any case, Viktor didn't imagine Mr Black wanted chapter and verse on a teenage romance.
The intensity of the moment passed, and Sirius handed Viktor another tool so he could finish what he started. "Well, my protective and nosy bit is out of the way, but that wasn't the only reason I brought you out here. I thought you could do with a break. The house can get… overwhelming at times. Too many people, too much noise, not enough freedom."
Mr Black glanced up at Grimmauld Place with a look that hinted at a sense of resigned revulsion and Viktor followed his gaze. "You grew up here, Hermione said."
"I did," Sirius responded, and Viktor picked up on the signals that the conversational avenue was closed.
"How about you?" Sirius asked after they had gone back to working on the bike, "Durmstrang and all that… it's intense over there, isn't it?"
Viktor tightened the bolt he was working on more firmly than was strictly necessary. "My family is not dark," he replied and raised an eyebrow when Sirius put his hands out in front of himself in contrition.
"Now, I didn't say that."
"But it is what you were wondering."
Sirius sighed. "I apologise, life was very black and white when I was growing up. No pun intended."
Viktor nodded. "It is okay, I am learning this about your country, pureblood means a different thing here than it does back at home, people make assumptions."
If he had expected Mr Black to look shamefaced, he would have been disappointed though at the same time they seemed to have cleared the air, and Viktor got the distinct impression he had passed whatever test had been laid out in front of him.
After Viktor declared he was finished, Sirius moved around the bike to see how he had done. "Not bad," he said as he brushed a hand over the neatly ordered cabling, "not bad at all. Tell me, how's your charm work?"
Viktor shrugged. "Better than my potions."
Sirius laughed. "You and me both. Come on," he said as she chucked another wrench at him, "there's a whole load where that came from."
After half an hour of being in the attic in her own two things became clear to Hermione, first that Viktor would not be re-immerging anytime soon and second, that the cleaning product Mrs Weasley had devised was far harsher than she had imagined. She was grateful she had been warned in advance to open the windows as after the earlier reprieve the smoke turned a darker blue and began to pour around the room like an odd mist akin to something Neville would have accidentally conjured up in their potions classroom.
Not having anything else to do, Hermione decided she had put off talking to Harry as long as she possibly could, and it was time to begin chipping away at his mountain of resentment. She found him in one of the smaller reception rooms, sitting with a copy of the Daily Prophet on his lap, and scowling.
It wasn't that day's paper, of that Hermione was certain. The Order hadn't wanted to risk having one delivered to the property, and as such, they were at the mercy of the people that came and went more freely to bring them one. Once a paper arrived, the students would have to wait for it to do the rounds with the adults before they would get a look in. But, no matter how many days or even weeks old the paper was, Hermione knew what Harry was looking for.
"There's nothing in there Harry, I checked this morning," she said softly and walked in, hovering at a safe distance.
Harry started, clearly he had not noticed her enter the room, but he masked it quickly, and after a few moments, he was back to staring at the parchment. "How can they keep ignoring it?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged unsure what to say and then she thought back to Grigor Krum and his complete lack of surprise at the Ministry's actions. He had seen it all before. All of the adults had. "It's easier not to admit it," she explained gently.
"For who?" Harry bit out.
"For them. It's easier to point the finger at Dumbledore and pretend it's all part of some plot to make him a more powerful wizard. They've probably said it so much they've even started believing it themselves."
"But how can they think we're all lying? Why would we?" Harry demanded. "Cedric's dead, and his life meant more than this."
There was quiet after his statement, talking of Cedric was still difficult for everyone and Hermione blinked back the tears that threatened when the usual motif of smiling Hufflepuff overlaid with an unseeing corpse stormed through her mind's eye.
Harry continued to jab at the paper with his finger as he read out some of the more incendiary lines and Hermione braved moving further into the room until she was sat down next to him. Hermione remembered seeing Harry during the holidays after their second year, she had run up to hug him when he first arrived at the Burrow, and Harry had looked embarrassed when he admitted he hadn't been cuddled since she had said goodbye to him at Kings Cross. The memory made her sick. How much had he needed physical affections this summer? More so than ever, and no one had been there to give it to him. She reached over to pull his hand away from the paper and intertwine her fingers with his.
"I just keep hearing it," he admitted softly, and Hermione leaned back into the mouldy couch to see him better.
"Hear what Harry?"
"Kill the spare," Harry said, rubbing his face with his free hand. "That was all Cedric was to him, someone in the way, a minor inconvenience and then he was dead. We've done things at school that no one else would ever dream of; trolls, Devil's Snare, Basilisks and werewolves but I never thought… it all turned out okay, I never thought..."
"It's not your fault, Harry."
"You shouldn't say that, Hermione. You wouldn't say that if you had been there."
"Someone has to, and you need to listen, you weren't the reason Cedric was there. Voldemort killed Cedric Harry, not you."
"Why can't I believe that?"
"Because you're you."
Harry only nodded, he seemed to have exhausted himself with his earlier speech, and so Hermione prattled on about nothing, intermittently reading some of the more light-hearted news stories from the paper until Harry's head fell slowly into her lap.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked as her fingers carded through his thick unruly hair.
"Chocolate" he responded in a muffled voice, "there's some of the stuff from Viktor's last hamper at the end of the sofa."
Hermione fished out the treat and broke a bit off for Harry who insisted she tried some herself.
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed a moment later, "that is amazing. What is even in that?"
"Coconut, I think," Harry mumbled around the chocolate in his own mouth.
"Wow," Hermione said, reaching for another piece.
"You're going to have to marry him, you know that don't you? Now that I've had this, I can't go back to Dairy Milk."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and for a while, all that could be heard was the intermittent rustling of foil and paper.
"So, a trial?" Harry said and removed himself from her lap to sit up and face her.
"We'll be here, all of us."
"I know," he admitted before leaning back. "The Dementor attacked in front of Dudley, you know?"
"I heard," Hermione replied, and while she might have felt some sympathy her small amount of concern was entirely overwhelmed by what Harry had gone through, helped along by her feeling that Dudley wasn't the most delightful human in the world.
"He might never be the same," Harry said and turned insistent when Hermione scoffed. "I'm serious, you should have seen him, he was barely coherent."
"From what you have told me about your cousin, that's hardly a shift in his personality."
"You can be a real bitch about people you don't care for."
Hermione shrugged. "I know."
"It's one of your better characteristics," Harry said as he grabbed another piece of chocolate out of Hermione's fingers and half smiled when she scowled at him. "You really think he'll be okay?"
"I'm certain," Hermione replied confidently, and she tutted at Harry's disbelieving expression. "He got over having a tail, Harry, I'm sure he'll be fine."
A/N: Hello lovely readers, sorry for the delay, there is a lot more dialogue than usual, and it took forever to edit until the patter sounded right. The next chapter is the last in Grimmauld Place (for now), can I get an amen! And then we can get into fifth year proper. I have decided to write in a way that will pick out some of the canon stuff so we can keep to the timeline, but I will not be going into much detail (I'll assume if you've found fanfic you are already pretty on top of all that).
In the next chapter, we lose a Bulgarian :( There is a trial, and Harry and Hermione both get very different 'tutorials' from the Marauders (insert gritted teeth emoji).
Lastly, I have a favour to ask, I don't usually do this, but my first ever fanfic Pictures of You is very close to 1k reviews. If anyone who has not read it would like to check it out and hit that review button, I would be thrilled (shameful self-promotion over). See you soon x [EDIT: 2 hours after this chapter was posted POY reached 1k reviews! Thank you so much everyone].