Viktor was grateful to be back in Bulgaria, and one look around the locker room at his teammates confirmed that the relief he felt was a shared emotion. Their coach had been pleased with three wins in three games, but that was far from the end of the story. They had been expected to win, and win they had. Now it was about what they did next.
Coach Rakov had collected reams of notes following the matches, and he and his team of assistants were keen to iron out all the remaining kinks before the season started in earnest. In practical terms, that meant harder training, more drills and less time with their families. No one complained; they had all known what they were doing when they signed up. As Dragomir had said, right after he got tossed off his broom practising a reverse manoeuvre, if it were easy, everyone would do it.
When they were finally dismissed for the day, Viktor rose on heavy limbs and trudged to the shower. He could have gone straight home and luxuriated in his own bathroom - it was certainly nicer than the perpetually grubby ones there - but he wanted to walk home rather than apparate. His mother had raised him to believe in cleanliness. There was no way he could go trudging down the street as he was.
Reluctantly exiting the building steam, after a too-short shower, Viktor wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and draped another over his shoulder blades to catch the water dripping from his growing hair.
He went to his locker for his change bag and took a brief moment after opening it to smile at his picture of Hermione, tacked against the inside of the metal door. She waved shyly at him before going back to her book and, for about the fortieth time since the photo had arrived, Viktor almost started talking to her. Sometimes, if he glanced to quick, it was as if it was Hermione there, and not just an image of a caught fragment in time which had been blessed with her existence.
Viktor shook his head to clear his musings. He must have been more tired than he thought, then he straightened up and grabbed his clothes to get dressed. He should have made an effort to wear something more put together than sweats and a t-shirt, but he couldn't be bothered. At least he and his change of clothes were clean.
Viktor closed the door to his locker wistfully, stopping himself from waving goodbye to the image that now greeted him every day. He was grateful that it was only a copy; he had the original image at home, in his bedroom. He'd felt silly duplicating it so he would have one at the grounds, but considering the time he spent there, Viktor thought it might make him feel less lonely, or maybe even help him miss her less. It did neither, but it was a comfort all the same.
It had been strange to receive a note from Ginny Weasley. Viktor's interactions with her had been brief, and if he were completely honest, he'd found her a little intimidating. He supposed he could take her writing to him as a sign of approval, but thought it was probably best to keep that deduction to himself, as he was sure Ginny wouldn't thank him for it.
Not many people knew the address details of his flat, so when he didn't recognise the writing on the envelope, Viktor had been stumped. He knew not to fear the contents, one of the perks of living in the type of accommodation he did was their excellent security, but he had been wary all the same. Fanmail had gotten through the wards before, not often but enough times for Viktor's father to add his own layer of protective enchantments around the flat. Most of the notes had been kind if a little exuberant. One or two had been more concerning.
Viktor waved to the dozing guard on the stadium exit as he left and pulled his kitbag across his shoulders. Most of the others had sped out quicker than him, eager to get back home and see their loved ones before they had to be back at the grounds. The time between training sessions seemed to decrease daily. Viktor was looking forward to a bit of time on his own. Travelling with the team was fun, but the noise, smells and constant competitiveness of it got old quick. In many ways, it was like being back at school, yet as they were adults now, they were expected to keep themselves in line. As such, the behaviour was worse than anything he had ever seen in Durmstrang.
On the whole, Ginny's letter had made Viktor laugh, once he had gotten over his surprise. He may not have known her well, but he felt like he had picked up a sort of brief guide from all of Hermione's conversations and letters. Ginny, as far as he could tell, liked to get things moving.
Her letter hadn't expressly mentioned that Hermione had not known about the photo, but Viktor had inferred it all the same. That was why he hadn't planned to tell Hermione about it, at least not straight away, but he was planning to respond. He just hoped she wouldn't be annoyed when she found out.
Viktor was already beginning to think this was a bad idea. After mulling over what to do for a few days, he had decided to write to Filip and Mikhail and invite them over. He could hardly take a picture himself - not a good one anyway - and all of the ones he had that were taken professionally were stern and detached - by design - and as such, wholly inappropriate for his needs.
Predictably, Filip was on board from the first moment. He had bounded into the flat with two of the three cameras he owned, and Viktor had barely got through his explanation of what he wanted before Filip began searching out a location with the 'best light' all while shouting ideas for potential setups.
Mikhail couldn't believe he'd been asked him to come, and Viktor was trying to hide just how embarrassed he felt about it all.
Three beers later, Viktor was sat in one of the comfortable chairs in his bedroom trying to relax his face and lose the tension in his shoulders, all while doing the other seven or so things Filip had deemed essential to getting the 'perfect' photo. The constant sound of the clicker was beginning to grate, and Viktor was hopeful it would be over soon.
Mikhail was sat in the back of the room, staging the only protest available to him by facing the other way and rooting through documents Viktor had shown him on his mastery.
"Viktor, raise your leg… no, the other one… yes, that's it… much better. Now a few more with your head facing… perfect."
Mikhail sighed and let his head fall to the back of the chair. "Why do we both need to be here?" he asked, and Viktor braved taking his eyes away from where Filip had directed to look at the back of his friend's head.
"Because I need you to rein Filip in when he tries to push this too far."
Filip looked affronted but shrugged when Viktor stared pointedly at him. He clasped his camera to his chest and then fired off a series of clicks in quick succession, making Viktor blink with the repeated flash.
"You asked for my help, and this is how you repay me?" he replied with mock affront before going back over to glance at the charmed lengths of film he had already set out on the bed.
"Why are you even doing this?" Mikhail asked, suddenly turning around and propping his feet up on another chair. "It's not like Hermione sent you the photo. In fact, by your own admission, you don't think she knows anything about it. Save yourself the bother."
Viktor was going to reply that he wanted to do something nice for Hermione, but he knew it didn't go far enough to explain how he was feeling. If it had only been a question of Ginny's letter he might have sent a photo in return - okay, Viktor knew he would have done - but he doubted he would have gone to this trouble if it hadn't been for the letter she sent after he had been injured.
Hermione's letter had been… Viktor struggled to know how to best articulate what his feelings had been after reading it for the first time. She'd never hidden that she liked him, but then she had never expressed it so openly before. It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. Hermione seemed stressed, even more so than she had been since her return to school. Her sentences ran on and on, she was not herself, she was unsupported, and it had been all Viktor could do not to pack a bag and get over there as quick as he could.
Practical thoughts had come in after the emotional ones. Hermione wasn't free at the moment; he couldn't just turn up and knock on the door of the school, expecting to see her. He couldn't just leave his team in the lurch and back out on all of the commitments he had made.
Viktor didn't like feeling helpless.
"Give me a minute," he said and padded out of the room, returning a few moments later with Hermione's well-read letter. His fingers and hers had smoothed the parchment to the point where it almost felt like fabric. It had become as delicate as Hermione had been when she wrote it and nearly as precious. Viktor held onto it tightly, warring with himself, before he passed it over to Mikhail, who eyed him thoughtfully, his eyebrows raised when he saw what it was.
"Are you sure?" he asked, and Viktor nodded. Though he wasn't sure, not sure at all. But he needed them to understand, not just her, but him as well. He imagined at least one of them, probably both, would have to be relied upon to talk him out of doing something stupid in the coming months. It would be easier if they were prepared.
Viktor knew Hermione, and because of that, he understood how exposed she would feel now, how the sharing of that level of emotion would have made her feel vulnerable. He had answered her letter in kind, expressing how much he wished she had been with him too, but it hadn't felt like enough. His grasp on her native tongue notwithstanding, Viktor still felt clunky and awkward when it came to expressing his emotions. He wanted to do something to show her how he felt.
Viktor thought taking a photo, a candid picture, would demonstrate it in a way Hermione would understand. She knew how much he hated the process, the results and everyone making judgements about him based on his appearance. He hoped she would see that he was willing to set all of that aside, for her, if it made her feel better.
Mikhail finished reading the letter and passed it over to Filip who was failing in his attempt to appear as if he possessed an ounce of patience.
"That much, huh?" Mikhail asked as he placed the now-forgotten Transfiguration papers on the floor in a neat stack.
"Yeah," Viktor replied with a sigh. "Make more sense now?"
Mikhail nodded, but Viktor doubted he did understand, his friend was probably just more willing to go along with it now he knew it wasn't some utterly frivolous pursuit.
Filip finished the letter shortly after and he laid it on the bed with a gentleness Viktor appreciated.
"Viktor, you need to go and see her," he implored, and Viktor nodded.
"I know," he replied. "But I can't yet. It will have to be early in the new year."
Filip sat back in his chair and fiddled with his camera. "Okay, then," he said finally. "If we can't get you two together, for now, we will sort this picture."
Viktor tried to shake off the lingering emotions he felt and even attempted injecting some more enthusiasm in his face as Filip called instructions and Mikhail tried not to look exasperated.
After insisting Viktor stand, Filip tilted his head to the side, considering. "What about if you take your shirt off?"
"This," Viktor said, looking passed Filip to where Mikhail was sitting, barely suppressing laughter. "This is why you are here."
"So, I have something for you."
Hermione looked up at Ginny with a question in her eyes as she reached to take the slip of parchment she was being offered. Ginny looked hesitant, almost worried. Hermione couldn't remember a single time her friend had looked like that without extreme - mortal peril calibre - inducement.
She leant forward and twisted her neck, adjusting to moving for the first time in about an hour as she turned the page over and saw what had made Ginny Weasley nervous. It was a photo of Viktor and a recent one at that.
His hair was longer than it had been when Hermione had seen him last, and when she glanced at him, he rubbed the side of his neck self consciously before looking back up at her. His gaze was everything she remembered, intense, soft and kind. He was sat in a chair, a comfortable looking one, that wrapped up like a hand, cradling the sitter. One of his legs was propped up, and his arms were draped over the top of his knee. In her confusion, Hermione could only stare blankly and catalogue what was in front of her. He had bare feet, she noticed. The jumper he had on was lovely, and it complimented his skin, but it was worn. It didn't look like something a fashion editor had given him to flaunt on glossy pages.
At first, Hermione assumed that Ginny must have cut the image out of one of the many sporting journals she followed, but then all the pieces started slotting together. Viktor never posed like this, from the descriptions she had received Hermione was pretty sure this had been taken in his bedroom, and his expression was far too relaxed. Unbelievably, this had to be a candid photo.
"How did you get this?" she asked, deceptively neutrally given the panic that had spiked within her.
There were so many different worries hurtling through her mind that she couldn't latch on to any of them long enough to get a handle on how she should feel. As Hermione glanced around, she suddenly realised the significance of them being in the common room. It was a very public place for such a private conversation. Ginny was worried about her reaction.
"Do you like it?" Ginny asked, and Hermione narrowed her gaze. The redhead sighed and lowered herself into the seat next to hers.
"Viktor sent it to me, for you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. She had managed to figure that bit out herself. There had been a horrible second or two where her mind had whispered that Ginny must have found it after Viktor had sent it for someone else, but she had shut that thought up. She didn't believe Viktor would do that to her. And, if by some flight of fancy he had, there was no way as long as the sky was still blue that Ginny would have walked over and calmly handed her the evidence, not without setting something on fire first.
"I guessed as much. What I would like to know, is why?"
Ginny drummed her fingers on the armrest of the worn sofa and looked around as if checking for exits. Realistically there were only two, but Hermione was convinced she could get her before she tried it. She might not have been fast, but she was feeling pretty motivated to get to the bottom of this now.
"You're not going to like this," Ginny finally replied, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Try me."
"Okay, okay, but stop glaring at me, it makes me lose my train of thought."
Hermione carried without regard for Ginny's shuffling.
"I thought you might like it that's all, and that it might make you feel better. You've been really… down."
"Please tell me you didn't tell Viktor that?" Hermione pleaded. Her head fell into her hands, and the picture of Viktor fluttered into her lap. Such was the state of her distress, Hermione didn't even notice it was wedged between her chest and legs. "Oh, Merlin," she groaned.
Ginny sat forward and hesitantly placed a hand on Hermione's back, conscious that she might get shoved off. "What?" she asked, "Whats happened?"
"Why would you do this?" Hermione pressed, and though her knees muffled her words, her tone was clear. "He's going to think I'm so desperate. You begging him for a photo and my tear-stained letter. It's all so humiliating."
"What letter?" Ginny asked as she tried to pull Hermione's hair back to see her face. She was unsuccessful.
Hermione tried not to scream, it wasn't the place, but she couldn't help thinking it would make it all feel better. She thought about the time-turner, was it realistic to believe Professor McGonagall might loan it to her if she could cobble together a good enough reason? Probably not. It seemed as if she would have to continue in her awkward reality.
"It was after he got hurt," Hermione defeatedly explained, sitting up but not meeting Ginny's eyes. There didn't seem to be a point in keeping the information to herself.
"I reacted before I could think and then all of this… stuff just poured out, and I wanted to contact him as soon as possible because I was worried so I didn't think about it, I didn't let me feelings settle, and then I sent it off, and now I can't see him…" she paused and pulled the picture from where it had got folded up in her jumper. "Now I can't see him and make sure it is all okay."
"Oh," Ginny nodded knowingly. "I'm sorry, Hermione, if I had known, I wouldn't have…"
"Stuck your nose in?" Hermione asked warningly, and Ginny grabbed her hand.
"I'm sorry… but he's replied to you, yeah? And everything's fine?"
Hermione thought back to Viktor's last letter, it was still tucked up in her bed, under her pillows. She was hiding it from Dragon who had made several attempts over the last few months to turn Viktor's notes into bedding.
'I'm not sure how to say what I want to say. Sometimes I want to come to where you are and steal you away in the night, and then I think that I am selfish and cruel and I don't recognise myself. I often dream that I wake up and you're there, no explanation, no planning, just with me…'
"Hermione," Ginny said, dragging her from her thoughts. "I'm sorry. I've explained this badly, and I can see you're upset about this letter, but you should know… I didn't beg Viktor for a picture. I didn't even ask for one."
Hermione's head tilted in confusion. "You didn't? But then why ..."
"I sent one of you," Ginny interjected hurriedly, averting her gaze, "hoping he would feel obliged to return the favour."
Hermione's mind shuddered to a halt. For the first time in her life, she honestly couldn't pick which was the worse of the two scenarios presented in front of her. She had though Ginny requesting a photo was terrible, somehow the idea that she had sent off some unknown photo was more embarrassing, and yet, she had to admit, bloody clever.
"You did what?"
"Don't look so frightened," Ginny chastised. "It was a great photo - as if I would send anything less. Luna will back me up if you need it and I can show you a copy. It was from a set that Colin took while roaming the grounds."
Hermione tried to think of an adequate response, but nothing was coming to mind. She wanted to be mad, really mad, but at the same time she knew at the core of all of this was Ginny trying to do a nice thing and well, she did now have a photo.
"Come to my room before bed. I have the copy somewhere in my bag. It was natural, you were looking at this book and then you sort of lookup," Ginny explained. "This though," she said, leaning forward and pressing her finger against Viktor's reclining form. "He has posed for this."
Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione had to almost bite through her bottom lip to suppress a giggle that was desperate to escape.
"Are you trying to distract me, so I don't murder you?"
"Is it working?" Ginny asked with a wink before swiping the picture up in her hand and holding it up to Hermione's gaze. "He cares Hermione, and well, this is something he wanted you, and only you, to have."
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione sighed, biting her lip.
"Something like that," Ginny agreed, and Hermione scowled at her smug look.
"I wish you'd asked me first," she said as she pulled her legs up onto the chair and pressed her head against the backrest.
Ginny shook her head. "You would never have agreed, and this way you have the photo and you can also say you never requested it."
Hermione did giggle then. "Know it all."
"Takes one to know one."
Hermione whacked Ginny's arm as best she could at their distance and then took the picture and placed it between the pages of her book, she didn't want to have someone come over and ask what it was. Especially not Lavender. Her dormmate had been asking questions for days, and they had only increased in intrusiveness since Ron had let slip, accidentally on purpose, that Hermione had visited Viktor over summer. In retaliation, Hermione had told Lavender that Ron had a liking for large, gold jewellery, the more personal the better, without an inch of remorse. Christmas was coming, and she hoped Ron liked his goose thoroughly cooked.
Hermione sat up in her seat to have a quick look around the common room in case she was about to be joined by some more nosy bints keen to hear about her love life. Though instead of Lavender and Pravati, Hermione clocked Dean who was sitting with some of the boys in her year playing cards. However, his attention seemed to be continually pulled to their direction, towards Ginny in particular.
"Why is Dean looking at you like that?" she inquired lightly, sitting back into her chair and studying Ginny's pink cheeks.
"Like what?" Ginny responded, staring resolutely ahead.
Hermione grinned knowingly. "Like he's willing you to turn around with the power of his thoughts."
"Though I have reason to believe he is a good student, I don't think he's quite capable of that."
"I think you know what I meant."
Ginny sighed and lowered herself down. "Maybe it's because I snogged him in an abandoned classroom yesterday."
Knowing Dean was watching, Hermione tried very hard not to laugh, but it was difficult. Ginny's frankness often caught her unaware, and she hadn't been expecting her reply. She had known there was something between the two of them for a while. Apparently, neither had cared what people would think enough to try and hide it, but as far as Hermione had known up to now, they had still been dancing around each other.
"How was it?" Hermione asked with interest. She might not have had much thought for anyone outside of her long-distance love, but she could appreciate a good looking boy when she saw one, and Dean Thomas was undoubtedly that. Charming and funny too.
"It was... good," Ginny eventually settled on, but her unsure expression said differently.
"Dean certainly seems to think so," Hermione observed, looking through her curls at Dean's wistful expression. "So why was it only good?"
Ginny shrugged. "It was just kind of predictable, you know… like if I had written down what I expected to happen before it did, it would have matched entirely."
"Predictable can be nice," Hermione said defensively, but Ginny only smiled.
"I'm not talking about Dean as a person," she clarified with a mischievous smile. "Is Viktor a predictable kisser?"
Hermione blushed as her mind flooded with images of gentle but firm hands in her hair and eyes that bore into hers with a blissed-out gaze.
"I thought not," Ginny said laughing but then her expression seemed to sober and she fiddled with the ends of her hair, tied back in a sloppy ponytail.
"Hermione, I hate to ask this when I imagine I'm currently not your favourite person but…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you need me to tell you that I forgive you? Because I do."
"Well, that's always good to hear but, no, it's not that."
"Then what?"
Ginny looked down at the book where the photo was hiding and lowered her voice. "I've been meaning to speak to you about this for a while, well, I didn't think of it, Luna did, but you know what she's like, she's probably forgotten all about it again. I was reminded when I saw the picture you know… Viktor he's great, maybe a bit intense for my tastes but perfect for you but…"
"Ginny," Hermione interjected. "What are you trying to say?"
"It's just Viktor… he's clearly very into you, and you and him, it's serious now. I just wanted to make sure… because he's older and so his expectations might be… and I don't want you..."
Hermione was quite sure that if she had the necessary access to the kitchens, she could have fried an egg on her cheeks. The rush of blood was so fast it almost made her feel lightheaded. Embarrassment aside, if she had been feeling any lingering resentment towards Ginny, it would have faded in that instant. She could see the concern and care on her friends face. Ginny had been there at the start, and she had seen how scared she had been even to hold Viktor's hand or speak to him in something approaching complete sentences.
It was a relief, in a way, to have girlfriends that you could talk about this stuff with. Even if for now, it was all hypothetical.
"Nothing has happened… like that, I mean," Hermione divulged, and Ginny nodded.
"I know, I mean, I would have thought you would have told me if it had… just… Do you want it to?" There was a mix of interest, concern and excitement on Ginny's face that made Hermione realise that despite her younger friends confidence, she might have been as much in need of a friendly ear on these things as she was.
Hermione sighed. "I don't know. Is it possible to want to and not want to all at once?"
"I think so," Ginny replied thoughtfully. "Maybe you should talk to him about it?"
"In a letter?" Hermione replied sarcastically, and Ginny laughed.
"Good point. Maybe next time you see him?"
Hermione shrugged, typically the idea would have made her terrified but just then seeing Viktor felt like such a far off concept it was almost unreal.
"Sure," Hermione agreed. "Whenever that will be."
"Are you really lecturing me about safe communication from the Gryffindor common room fire?"
Hermione glared at the flaming image of Sirius' face and felt her arms crossed over her chest. The boys said she sounded like Molly when she was this miffed, and she usually would have been offended. However, if they said it today she would likely agree with them, even she could hear the shrill tone to her voice. Sometimes though, it was warranted.
Hermione couldn't believe Sirius' audacity at times. She was still a bit shaky from pulling off the first meeting of what she hoped would be a defence club, it might not have gone entirely smoothly, but Harry had attended, and so had quite a few others. Students from three house no less. It was a step in the right direction. She had been feeling pleased with herself until Sirius had appeared in the fire, smouldering and self-righteous, and all but called her a fool for holding it in the Hog's Head. Hermione wanted to scream at him that the adults weren't exactly lining up to help, but she bit her tongue. It would achieve nothing. Neither Sirius nor Harry were in a position to listen to her rationally and to be fair to Sirius; his wings had been clipped. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't do more.
After chastising her thoroughly, Sirius had gone on to say he thought the club itself was a great idea. Hermione supposed he might have meant to offer her some comfort after his set down but his passionate support made her… unsettled. Hermione began to wonder if they had possibly made a mistake. Sirius was a little too invested, too pleased by their rule-breaking, it made Hermione worry.
When Sirius finally disappeared from the grate, Hermione excused herself to go to bed. She thought about raising some of her concerns, but she dismissed the idea just as quickly. Harry didn't need another burden right now.
Hours later, Hermione was in her dorm, tucked up in bed and using a large book as a makeshift desk to allow her to write a letter. It wasn't an unfamiliar position for her to be in, but it was a different type of message to those she was usually drafting at that time of night.
Something had to be done about Sirius, he was becoming increasingly restless and even through the patchy medium of a fire call she had been able to see that he looked gaunt. She was worried about him. More so, she was worried that no one else would be.
Hermione remembered how Sirius had been treated over the summer, and how people had seemed to carry on as if he didn't exist. It was as if the rest of the Order somehow felt he was overreacting like a toddler stamping their feet, rather than trying to understand how difficult his current situation was.
Harry couldn't help, not from school and that only left one other person. She just hoped the owl could find him without a clue of his address.
Dear Professor Lupin,
I hope you will forgive me for sending you this letter. You see I wasn't sure who else to approach…
Hermione was preoccupied as she headed down a familiar corridor. She was on her way to the library, and the route to the main entrance from Gryffindor tower was one she knew well enough to walk without paying much attention.
Harry's eyes were bloodshot and lifeless that morning. Hermione had regarded him solemnly as he struggled to eat any of his breakfast. As soon as Ron had been able to catch her by herself, he had confirmed her worst fears. Harry was having the dreams again.
Hermione knew there were ample treatments for difficulty sleeping and that all of them could be found in the Hospital Wing. Yet, she didn't feel she could go to Madame Pomfrey with this. It was Harry's secret after all. Hermione had never been much of a liar, so she couldn't see herself inventing a believable cover story. The last thing she wanted was for Umbridge to somehow find out and use the knowledge as another stick to beat Harry with.
Hermione had resolved to look up a few advanced potions books in the library. They had covered the Dreamless Sleep potion in classes, but to Hermione, that seemed like an extreme option. She wanted to see if there was something milder, something that would promote the chances of a restful night without effectively knocking Harry out to do so. There was a chance it would work for Sirius too, and if she found something that worked, then she would have to battle to get either of them to take it. But there was no reason to borrow trouble from tomorrow. She needed a solution first.
There was a lot on her mind, and rather than paying attention, Hermione was preemptively running through ideas when she bumped into Draco Malfoy. She stood back quickly after the collision, an apology on her lips until she realised who it was. Luckily for her, for once Malfoy was without his goons, and Hermione made to walk around him quickly, eager to get about her business without confrontation.
"Going so soon, Granger?"
Hermione's steps skidded to a halt.
Over the four and a half years they had been at school together, Malfoy had found many ways of saying her name. All of them clearly conveyed his feelings about her. Today he had injected those two syllables that summed up all she was in this world until they dripped with all of the venom his voice held when he called her mudblood.
Hermione raised her chin and stared at him with all of the disdain she could muster and a pinch of whatever she pulled together on the spot. "Sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, I've got better things to do."
She started up the corridor again but, by the benefit of the flagstones under her feet, she could hear that he was following close behind. Hermione reached inside her sleeve to grab the end of her wand and spun on her heel. The one benefit of Barty Crouch Jr having gone to such great lengths to impersonate Mad-Eye Moody so diligently was that beneath the harshness of those lessons, they had actually learnt some semblance of survival skills.
Hermione was determined never to turn her back on a foe. Others might be stronger, or faster, but she'd face then and give as good as she could.
She was surprised to find that Draco didn't have his wand drawn, but any explanation was cut off as soon as they weren't alone in the corridor.
"Drakey?" Pansy Parkinson's clawing voice called out, and Hermione smirked as her heartbeat slowed.
"Better go get that ferret, wouldn't want to keep Parkinson waiting."
She bounced off before he could respond more than glaring at her and Hermione was glad of it. Her solo interactions with Draco Malfoy were limited, and she had every intention of keeping it that way.
Remus looked across the table and tried to give a genuine edge to the smile that was plastered across his face. Years ago, his expression wouldn't have come close to fooling his friend, but Sirius wasn't that man anymore. None of them were more than a shadow of who they had been back then.
Remus had come to Grimmauld Place after he had received Hermione's unexpected letter. In truth, he had been hoping to visit before now, but his various missions for Dumbledore had prevented it. He hadn't been in the area much, and every time he left, he seemed to go further and further away. He was harshly reminded of the first war, and how he and Sirius had drifted apart before it all went to shit. It was that mistrust and resentment that had led to all of this, and Remus wouldn't let it happen again.
He swirled the remainder of tea in his cup, glad he had been able to get Sirius to eat something. Hermione had been right, his friend hadn't been looking after himself, and was it any wonder? The old house seemed smaller than it had during his last visit, and if it was compressing down on them in his imagination, Remus didn't want to think about what it was doing to Sirius.
Remus was working to change that. At present he had no fixed home, he was moving from place to place picking up various jobs on the sides of his missions for the Order. If he had somewhere safe, secure, he could move Sirius there. But that would take time, and he wasn't sure how much of that they had left.
They talked for a while about pointless things as Remus tried to keep the conversation light. He thought about telling Sirius that Hermione had written to him, but decided against it. Sirius may have had a soft spot for the little witch, but Remus worried that he would confuse her concern for betrayal. On a good day, Remus was sure he could convince him it was a sign that someone else in the world cared, something he dearly needed, but Sirius didn't have too many good days lately.
He walked over to the sink to wash out his cup and looked out over the cracked paving in the garden. He wondered if Kingsley could help?
After a while longer, extending his visit way past the time he should have stayed, Remus excused himself and left Sirius there, hating himself for what he had to do… for the greater good.
-/-/-/-
Sirius watched Remus leave and ran a hand over his beard. With that visit out of the way, he was unlikely to see anyone else for at least a week. He'd had enough of waiting. He got to his feet, pushing his chair back with an ear offending screech but it didn't matter, the noise was soothing in a way. The silence could become so heavy when he was on his own, and there was no one else there to complain. There never was.
Sirius thought long and hard and then his form crumpled to the floor, and a large, shaggy black dog replaced the broken man.
The dog stared around the kitchen, assessing his surroundings at his new height before he made towards the door, and then out into the gloriously bright, open, unsafe world.
A/N: Foreshadowing for me, foreshadowing for you, foreshadowing for everybody :) In the next chapter it's Christmas which means Mr Weasley gets attacked by a snake - sad times. We will also have Sirius and Hermione interaction, the return of Viktor's parents and some not great news for our young folk.