Hermione laid back on her narrow bed and tried to ignore the creaking of the bedsprings. Luna had gone back home, and Ginny was off bothering the twins about something, so their room was quiet. She read through the last passage of Viktor's letter again as her eyebrows pinched and her feet restlessly walked up the nearest wall.

Harry had become even more sarcastic and despondent following his trial and at this point not even Sirius' reminiscing about his school days was able to snap him out of it. Viktor being Viktor he had included a few politely worded suggestions on how to approach Harry in his latest letter. They were all well and good, and Hermione was sure they would be precisely the sort of thing someone would appreciate, just as she was confident that she could no more pull off a 'soft, undemanding and compassionate approach' than she could change the weather by merely wanting to.

Hermione had reasoned that she could try to push herself existing self to the side for the moment and force herself into a new personality to help her friend. However, the problem with emulating any of Viktor's - admittedly more mature - approaches, was that they didn't sound like her. Not at all. Harry was at the point now that if she started 'acting funny' he would probably assume she was either in on some grand plot or that she had agreed to help 'manage' him and his behaviour, which was ludicrous. Hermione had never needed asking to try and moderate Harry; she'd been trying to keep him out of trouble since the first year. Admittedly, woefully unsuccessfully.

Hermione set the letter down on the bed and contemplated looking for something to distract her in the library until another slamming door downstairs alerted her that Harry and Ron must have come back in from their brief time outside. She had a moment, just a single second of wanting to leave Ron to it for a little while longer, but even while she was thinking it, Hermione had gotten onto her feet. It simply wasn't fair.

She joined the boys in the kitchen where Ron was throwing together a few plates of leftovers and Harry was mid-rant about the only topic he wanted to discuss anymore. Headmaster Dumbledore.

Hermione made tea and joined them at the table where she and Ron made a passable effort to talk about anything else until they gave in.

Harry tore into a sausage roll and banged the table, dislodging the cutlery that they hadn't bothered using. "He's been here Hermione, and he couldn't even be bothered to speak to me. Last night after dinner, it was him and me in the corridor, and he didn't even reply. He just hurried off as though I wasn't even there."

If Harry had made the complaint a few months before, Hermione would have been stunned. Their headmaster had always had time for Harry, but she had seen his reserve at dinner. She believed Harry, she always believed Harry, but right now she wasn't sure winding himself up over this was helping. What he needed was a distraction; unfortunately, there was precious little of it to be found at the Order Headquarters.

"I'm sure he's just busy, Harry," Hermione replied. She knew how hollow the excuse sounded, but honestly, she didn't have a better explanation.

"Doing what?" Harry pressed.

"Running the school?" Hermione offered up with a shrug.

"Schools on holidays."

"That is actually a common misconception," Hermione began until she was cut off.

"Doesn't look like we're there to me," Harry said, making a dramatic show of looking around himself for further proof. "Unless… maybe the ministry is telling the truth after all? Maybe I've tried so hard to do anything for attention that I've managed to completely miss the fact that we have travelled back to Hogwarts."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean that as you well know. But teachers still have work to do during the holidays, and most of them have other callings on their time. Writing papers, sitting on boards, reviewing the education programme for the coming year. Not to mention hiring new staff."

"You're not helping, Hermione," Ron injected, and Hermione crossed her arms defensively.

"I'm not helping?" she asked in a voice that she knew the twins would describe as shrill. "At least I'm trying."

"What do you mean?" Ron spluttered, wiping pastry crumbs onto the back of his hand. "I am trying."

"Well I agree with you there, you're very trying Ron."

The impending argument was paused as Harry's chair scraped back, and Hermione and Ron both stopped in their tracks. "I'm going to find Sirius."

"Okay, Harry."

"See you later mate."

The kitchen fell silent as Hermione played with the cubes of butternut squash and beetroot that were left on her plate. So much for trying to be a good friend, she chastised herself. For approximately the hundredth time that day, she wished Viktor was there.

"I saw you got a letter today," Ron said, but when Hermione looked up, he was eyeing his plate with intensity.

"Yes, I did."

"Luna?" he inquired offhandedly.

"It was from Viktor. Luna wrote yesterday."

"I heard that you were… boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

Hermione speared a little red square onto the end of her fork to compete the alternating pattern she had started and tried not to fidget. "That's right. He asked me while I was in Bulgaria and then again here actually."

Ron frowned. "He asked twice? Why would he do that?"

"Because some people don't take things for granted, Ronald," Hermione replied, though there was less bite in her words than before. "I better go back up," she continued, desperate to get out of the silence that had descended into the kitchen as she put her plate in the sink, quickly jerking her hands away from the magical scrubbing brush that Mrs Weasley had activated before she left that morning.

"I'm sorry you know… about some of the things I said, at the ball."

Hermione spun on her heel. "Some of the things?"

"Alright, Mione, keep your bloody hair on. I'm sorry, okay, for all of it."

"Fine. Apology accepted," Hermione said. She knew she was graceless, but it was because she didn't really forgive him, just like he didn't really mean his apology. But they would go through the motions and hope it would be better because they had played lip service until it happened the next time.

Ron nodded and then tilted his head in the direction Harry had left in. "We need to try and keep the peace this year, for Harry."

Hermione thought that it was all rather dependant on whether or not he was planning on being an idiot in the near future. But in light of their recent truce, she held her tongue. "For Harry," she replied and left the room.

After Viktor left, Hermione decided to spend more time out of the house. She wasn't one to crave the outdoors in the same way that the boys did, but she did prefer to spend her days at Hogwarts in the library, which could never be described as cramped. The only option available at Grimmauld Place was the tiny courtyard at the back of the house. The patio slabs were mottled, mouldy and damp to the touch even when the sun was beating down directly overhead, but it was quiet, and Hermione needed that more than other comforts.

That particular morning the twins had gathered their younger siblings (and Harry and Hermione) into one of the highest rooms to practise some levitating spell they were adapting and Hermione had managed to slip away after she watched Ginny gently returned from the upper shelf the spell had lifted her to, assured that in this instance at least, Fred and George had some idea of what they were doing.

She closed the back door behind her with some care and walked over to the beaten up looking shed that was behind Sirius' motorbike. The Weasley's had given up trying to play pick up Quidditch, the space wasn't big enough, and Molly had forbidden them all from having their brooms inside the house - knowing that despite their best intentions the temptation to use them inside would have been too much for them to ignore. Hermione selected Ginny's broom - at least she hoped that was the one she grabbed - and pulled it out of the cramped shed and sat with it in the centre of the patio.

Hermione had been thinking a lot about this. Flying. Since her argument with Viktor on the Quidditch pitch, Hermione had focused heavily on her fears. Viktor had come here for her, and she thought it might make her feel better about his absence if she began to work on her block. That, and if she was going to be his girlfriend, she should at least try to understand the thing that he was famous for. She had no delusions of playing or even becoming an enthusiast, but she hoped that floating off the ground and maybe doing a turn or two might have been within her capabilities. Maybe. Eventually.

"Are you trying to set that thing on fire?"

The sudden question made Hermione jump. She had been staring too hard lost in her thoughts. She hadn't realised that the back door had been opened.

"I know you're not allowed a wand but attempting wandless on that scale seems like a bit of a leap, even for you."

Sirius Black stepped into the yard and blinked at the full sun in the sky. He seemed to change before her eyes, becoming younger and more carefree just by being outside. After stretching out his arms, he took a deep breath before he crossed his legs and sat down next to her. Hermione crossed her arms at the invasion and would have probably ignored his question if she hadn't heard the door open and seen Professor Lupin join them outside. He didn't join them on the floor.

"No," she replied as if Sirius' question had been an earnest one.

"Then what?"

"Nothing," she replied with a shrug.

"You realise you're not very convincing, don't you? I would hate to be the one to break that to you," Sirius said. His words were saying one thing, and his face was saying quite another, as ever.

"You realise you're incredibly annoying?" she replied, and Sirius gripped the front of his shirt in mock afront.

"He's also very perceptive, Hermione," Remus said with a wry smile. "In my experience, it's often best to indulge his nosiness and let him know what he wants to know. It makes for an easier existence."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Moony."

Hermione sagged and played with an uneven stone on the ground. "It's kind of embarrassing," she admitted softly.

Sirius smiled, one of his rare genuine ones. "Believe me, poppet; there is literally nothing you could tell us that we couldn't top."

Though Hermione didn't doubt it, she wasn't comforted. "I don't imagine you were as awkward as I am at this age."

"No, I wasn't, but then, we can't all be like me," Sirius preened.

"Perish the thought," Hermione muttered, but it seemed neither of them noticed.

Remus drew closer, his body blocking out the afternoon sun. "That… is a matter of opinion."

"Yes, it is Moony, mine."

"Well, I think Hermione deserves to know - since you are keen to talk about embarrassing incidents - that before you asked Marlene McKinnon to the winter formal, you sweated so profusely that you had to change your shirt."

"That," Sirius contested, pointing a finger up at his friend, "was a sweltering day."

"In January?"

"Whatever," Sirius waved him off. "This conversation does not need audience participation."

"Perhaps not," Remus replied with a grin, "but it could do with some of the truth, which you only have a passing relationship with."

"Prick."

"Moron."

"Mutt."

"Drama queen."

Hermione, attempting to use their distraction for her benefit, began to edge away from Sirius towards the back door until he turned and caught hold of one of her trainer laces.

"Oh no you don't. Sit and spit it out."

Hermione released his fingers from her shoe with a little sniff and pulled the broom over her legs as a very impractical security blanket. "I argued with Viktor," she said finally, not making eye contact with either man. "It was while he was at Hogwarts. I didn't want to try to learn how to ride on a broom. I've never managed it, not since the first year. He was overly persistent, and I was… I suppose I was rather… petulant-"

"Imagine that," Sirius muttered, and Remus elbowed him.

"-I'm trying to get over my fear, I thought if I sat and considered it rationally for a while, I would start to feel better about trying again."

"I believe all that thinking might be where you are going wrong." Hermione wanted to protest, but she could see the logic of Sirius' argument even if it irritated her no end. "Hermione, do you trust me?"

Hermione shifted her legs as she thought about it. Sirius Black was dramatic, melancholy, rude, withdrawn and unpredictable… and yet. "I do," she replied, "but fear, my fear, is irrational. I trust Harry, and yet I can't let him take me out on a broom, even though he has tried, several times."

Remus walked forward and took the broom off her legs, laying a hand over it until it was gently hovering near his waist. "I've never thought of fear as irrational, Hermione, and you are certainly not an irrational person."

Sirius stood and offered a hand to pull her to her feet. "You don't have to do anything you don't want, but understand we will never let you fall."

"Not even as a joke?"

Sirius pushed some hair out of his eyes as he seemed to bite back his first retort. "Contrary to the prevailing beliefs of those in this house, I am capable of being responsible."

Hermione contemplated the hovering broom and tried to find a way to articulate why it scared her so much. "It's not just that, not just the… falling bit."

"I didn't think so," Sirius acknowledged, "these things are never simple, and for all my ribbing, I do understand where you are coming from."

"You didn't like flying?"

Sirius laughed. "No, of course not, I loved it! Flying was everything I ever wanted. It was complete freedom. But experiences do not always feel the same to different people."

Hermione scuffed her shoe and avoided their eyes. "I don't like feeling out of control." She felt the same as she had when she had been ten years old, and Christina Bryant had drawn in pen all over her newish backpack. 'It was an accident' their teacher had said, it hadn't been, but that was entirely beside the point. It had been messy, unorganised and it wouldn't wash off.

Remus lowered the broom a fraction, and it buzzed near Hermione's knees like an insistent insect. "In some cases, you have to practise to get good enough at something and then, with that confidence, you can get the control back."

"Like what?"

Sirius thought, rocking back on his heels before he snapped his fingers. "Like being an animangus; the first few transformations were terrifying as I wasn't a hundred per cent sure I could get back."

Hermione had a flash of herself as a cat but chose not to let on how she had blindly trusted the Polyjuice potion she had made in the second year, Sirius would never allow her to live it down.

"What made you do it anyway? Even though you were frightened."

Sirius smirked. "Booze and bravado."

"Drunk?" Hermione said, blinking rapidly. "You attempted an animangus transformation, unsure of the outcome, drunk?"

"Hermione, if we were to go through everything I've ever done that you would not approve of, we would be here and till we both look as old as Remus here. Come on, have a go."

Hermione still wanted to say no. The broom looked reasonably innocuous, hoovering at such a low height, but she hadn't survived this long in the magical world without seeing beyond the face value. She watched quietly as Sirius stepped over to the broom himself and gestured for her to the do the same.

"Look, I'll go on with you first, and Moony will be on the ground in case you need him."

Hermione looked up at his eager face and just like that her hesitation died. Not because she wasn't scared, she was terrified, but she could see how much Sirius needed this. He needed her trust. She said a silent prayer to a God she had never truly believed in and took off her jacket.

"Okay."

If Hermione had thought that Viktor would have been the most unwelcome visitor to Grimmauld that summer - in the eyes of Molly at least - she had been mistaken. Fleur Delacour breezed into the cramped, dusty townhouse a few days before they were all due to depart for Hogwarts in all her smiling, shimmering glory. For the first time in several weeks, Harry was at a complete loss for what to say as the French girl greeted him affectionately and Hermione watched with a twisted sort of humour as Ron looked between the former object of his appreciation and his older brother who had brought Fleur along.

Fleur was due to start her internship at Gringott's and had somehow wangled Bill as her primary instructor. Hermione would have laughed if their air between Bill and his mother hadn't been so tense. Mrs Weasley had taken one look at the tall, confident, iridescent part Veela and had seen something or likely many things, she didn't care for, and she wasn't above making it known.

Fleur, however, was somewhat used to not finding approval from women and therefore dealt with the clipped comments with a good deal more grace than Hermione would have in her elegant shoes.

Hermione had managed to catch her briefly before they all went into lunch. She had grown to respect Fleur after the Yule Ball and her quick assessment of Roger Davies. Not to mention her kindness when she was dealing with the vile letters from the public.

"I didn't expect to see you," Hermione said warmly, and Fleur gave her a wide grin.

"It is nice to see a familiar and friendly face."

"What have you been up to since you got to London?"

"Chasing my prince charming," Fleur said with a smirk, gently inclining her head to where Bill was sat in all of his dishevelled glory between Sirius and Ron.

"Chasing, you?" Hermione replied incredulously, and Fleur laughed. It was a beautiful sound that seemed to echo and bounce around the room like light reflected off a prism. Half the men in the room turned in the blonde's direction, and the other half seemed to be trying hard not to follow suit. Hermione noted Ginny's exaggerated frown and tried not to snort.

"I know. Isn't it delightful?" Fleur said with an adorable wrinkle of her nose. "Bill is rather wonderful in a… rustic sort of way, and very intelligent. Do you know Hermione, I think I might be smitten."

Hermione thought they made a rather striking pair, and an interesting one too. "Good for you," she said kindly.

"Good for both of us," Fleur replied knowingly. "I understand I am not the only international visitor this holiday?"

Hermione suddenly found herself lost for words at Fleur's good information, but she was saved from having to formulate a response by Molly calling them all in to sit down. After the usual mele of people finding seats and getting food Hermione ended up sat between Sirius and Harry, at the other end of the table from where the action was which was a refreshing change, if no less awkward.

Mrs Weasley pumped Fleur for information at every given opportunity. Who were her parents? What had she studied? What were her career prospects? The list went on and on. Bill tried, several times, to interject into proceedings but he got precisely nowhere, mainly because Fleur was doing just fine batting back without his help.

As the rest of the table tried to pretend it wasn't happening, Sirius sat back in his chair and openly watched the saga while picking at far too many buttered rolls.

"You are enjoying this far too much," Hermione whispered under her breath as he topped up his wine glass.

"Entertainment is rather thin on the ground, Hermione, I'll take what I can get."

"Do you think Bill likes her?" Hermione asked with interest. She wasn't the best at reading people's intentions, especially those of a romantic nature. She couldn't see how Bill would not be interested in Fleur, but then, from what she had already learnt, boys didn't always know what was good for them.

"I would say so. He was asking Moony all sorts of questions about Veela earlier."

"Why would he ask…?" Hermione began, but Sirius cut her off.

"Remus dated a Veela back in the day, and a half one at that," he related with a grin as if he had just told her his friend had achieved something of the same magnitude as climbing Everest.

Hermione looked over at her careworn former professor and tried to see past the scars on his face to the glint in his eyes. She'd had a bit of a crush on him when he'd been their teacher, nothing as over the top as her 'heart adorning, sigh-inducing, starry-eyed' affection for Lockhart, but something. She had put it down to her limited exposure to adult men below the age of a hundred on the school staff and nothing more. She knew that having a crush on a teacher was a relatively harmless thing, especially given how her mother could wax lyrical about Mr Dawkins who had taught her O Level maths, but like all of those silly romantic notions, they disappeared as quickly as they cropped up.

Hermione looked away from Remus to where Fleur was still talking to Mrs Weasley and saw how Bill looked on with poorly concealed admiration. "Mrs Weasley won't be happy," she observed quietly.

"No, she won't," Sirius readily agreed. "But there comes a time in every man's life when he must stop listening to his mother above all others, and give that honour to his wife. Or so my father used to tell me."

After that Sirius seemed lost again, trapped in some memory of the past, despite all the people around him. Hermione stopped bothering him for the rest of the meal until he had finished eating his stew, and she passed him some pudding. When the sight of an individual spotted dick failed to get a laugh out of him, she sucked in a breath and lamented her bleeding heart when she couldn't look away from the sadness in his eyes.

"Sirius, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally turned myself into a cat?"

A/N: And we are done with the Summer holidays! Goodbyes in the next chapter and then we are back at Hogwarts. The narrative will be following Viktor and Hermione separately for a time as we skip through the action of the fifth year. Thank you all for reading.

To guest reviewer Happy, I really do need to hear more about the racoon in the kitchen, being from the UK I cannot tell you how much the idea of this fills me with delight because such a thing would never happen here (and they look like tiny burglars, which is exactly what they are!). Though I imagine said racoon was nothing like the Disney inspired one I am picturing and therefore a huge inconvenience to all.