I want to thank all the wonderful fans who have hung in there for all my stories. Sirius' Sacrifce's 2nd chapter is almost complete and the next chapter for The Winner Takes It All is swiftly headed to completion as well!! Tons of peole have asked me when I'm going to update Diggory In Deep but I must ask you to be patient for a bit longer because to be honest my muse, for that story, has taken a vacay. But I will not be giving up on it and please, don;t you! Many, many of you have left reviews that I cannot answer either because you aren't a registered member or you haven't set your settings to where I can. So to you, I say... please register or change your settings; I really hate not being able to answer you back.

As usual I own nothing and make no moola!

A knock on the door brought Hermione out of her reverie. Standing up she strode to the door which had Hermione Granger Head Girl emblazoned on the other side and pulled it open.

"Harry!" She exclaimed in true delight.

Harry winced. His head was still killing him. Sirius had had no sympathy for Harry's plight when he'd finally managed to make his way downstairs well after noon today. In fact, Sirius had gleefully encouraged Remus to cross over from the low out of tune whistling Harry had become accustomed to while residing at Grimmauld, to the from the gut totally out of tune singing that he wasn't. His godfather continued egging Remus on until his former professor was singing at the top of his lungs. Badly. Even through the thick cotton-wool barrier which seemed to wrap itself around Harry from the neck up, he'd had no problems determining that.

Harry supposed Sirius' reasoning was, why not? Remus was, at that point, more than likely, the only cheerful person within the vicinity. So why not vocalize his good spirits to all and sundry? It had been excruciating. Remus had been full of apologies to Harry and baleful glares to Sirius when he realized Harry's poor condition and as to the reason why.

Pulling the door open further she invited him in with a wave of her hand. "What are you doing here?"

Stepping inside the room his green eyes widened, taking in his surroundings. "Wow, Hermione. This is amazing."

Hermione preened a bit at the awe in which Harry had made his statement.

Shrugging and going for nonchalant she said, "It's alright, I suppose."

Whirling around to face her, he asked in a stunned manner, "You suppose?"

Then Hermione did something that Harry had never witnessed before. She squealed loudly and then started jumping up and down while her dark brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Harry was astounded. Hermione – their no nonsense one of the guys Hermione– was acting like a girl!?

Her unusual, and to Harry's mind, slightly discomfiting reaction was none-the-less contagious and Harry found himself grinning like an idiot and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, sort of a male version of jumping up and down.

Grabbing his hands Hermione pulled him further into the room, talking and gushing continuously. "Okay, okay… you couldn't be more right; it is amazing! It's stupendous! It's like nothing I've ever seen here at Hogwarts. And Harry…" She threw her arms around him, "it's mine!"

Drawing back, she re-phrased her statement, "Well, mine for the year at least." Frowning, Hermione took a good look at Harry before saying, "Harry, you look like crap."

Shame-faced, Harry pushed her away trying to ignore her searching stare. He felt like crap too.

"Sirius and I sort of celebrated a bit too much last night, is all." Harry felt a momentary twinge of guilt at the out-and-out lie but he wasn't about to explain to Hermione that he'd all but accused his god-father of sneaking a peek at her while bathing. Gods, he was an idiot! An idiot with dry mouth and a throbbing in his temples that not even the hang-over potion that Remus had poured down his throat had managed to cure.

Course, Remus had to brew it himself – after his god-father had rather gleefully announced they were out of the much needed concoction – and the fact that Remus had, had to hurry it along instead of letting it steep and simmer the required time had diminished its potency quite a bit. Still, Harry didn't feel quite as much like the scum under a slug as was the case when he'd woken up and dragged his sorry, pickled ass downstairs..

Still frowning, she stated in voice that Harry was all too familiar with, "That was really stupid, Harry. I mean, really stupid. You have no tolerance for alcohol whatsoever! What in Merlin's beard possessed you to do such an idiotic thing?"

Rubbing his forehead, Harry replied, "Um, Hermione… do you think you could maybe bring your tone down an octave or five?"

Crossing her arms, she huffed, "Is it my fault you're looking out of red-shot, bleary eyes today? Uh, is it?"

"Dammit, 'Mione," Harry groused. "Can't you show a bit of sympathy here? Do you always have to be so all fired up self-righteous?"

Tapping her foot, she enunciated clearly, "I am not self-righteous." Pausing briefly, she asked, "Have you and Cedric Diggory been getting together and comparing notes?"

Harry did a double take and then groaned at the pain that lanced through his temples at the jarring movement. Diggory?!

"Diggory?" Harry asked out loud. Gods, please, please don't let Hermione know why he'd gone to see Diggory. Mortified wouldn't even come close to describing how he'd feel if that were the case. Maybe he and Diggory had left things in a bad way but Harry hadn't put Diggory down as a bloke who would blab because they'd argued.

Relaxing her stance a bit, Hermione said, "Well, a few weeks back Cedric told me to get off of my self-righteous soap box or something along those lines. I guess I'm still holding a bit of grudge although he's been quite pleasant since then." Quite pleasant.

"Hanging out with Diggory, are we now? Why?" Harry asked a tad shortly, bits and pieces of his conversation with Diggory floating round in his head from his less than pleasant visit.

"No need to snap my head off, Harry." She informed him. "I've been working with his father at the Ministry and Cedric's stopped in a time or two." Truth was he'd stopped in plenty but as far as Hermione was concerned that was her business and no one else's, not even Harry's.

Rubbing the back of his head, Harry asked casually, "What makes you think we'd been comparing notes?"

Giving him a curious look, Hermione said, "I don't. Not really. I just thought it was funny how alike you sounded." Squinting her eyes, she stated firmly, "It's no use trying to change the subject, Harry. So," Hermione demanded, "what happened with Sirius last night?"

Harry grimaced. Last night had been a nightmare and Sirius had made it as clear as Harry's befuddled head could grasp, that he was no longer welcome to any decanter in the house containing liquor. No worries there, Harry thought.

The conversation which had followed after Harry choked down the half-baked hang over potion had been sobering enough. Harry had wanted to pretend the whole night before had never happened, even thought about claiming memory loss. He'd made the effort but when he'd looked into his godfather's serious grey eyes – an anomaly in and of its self – it had totally put an end to that little deception.

Before he could change his mind – he was so fucking embarrassed – Harry bit the bullet and said "Gods, Sirius… I'm sorry."

Sirius looked at him through his cloud of dark hair and asked simply, "Are you?"

Startled, Harry rushed to assure his godfather. "Of course I am! I don't know what happened. I suppose I was…" Harry stopped cold. What had he been?

Sirius watched Harry closely, wondering if he was actually going to have an epiphany of sorts. When he remained silent, Sirius supplied the answer. "Jealous is the word I believe you're searching for."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Jealous?" Harry squeaked. "No, that's not it at all. I was confused and…," Harry stopped. "I was drunk." He tried again. "I didn't know what I was saying…" Harry let the sentence trail off.

"The whiskey loosened your tongue, I'll grant you that." Harry flushed. "There are two types of drunks, Harry. The first is a nasty drunk. They're the kind spoiling for a fight." Harry's flush deepened. "The second is an honest one. Those are the sort that let fly with whatevers on their minds or has been and they just haven't said it for whatever reason; looser lips you'll never find." Sirius' own lips curled into a twisted smile. "Congratulations, Harry; you have the dubious pleasure of being an interesting mixture of both – a rare find indeed."

"I truly didn't mean those things, honest." Harry was desperate for his godfather to believe him. Seeing the skepticism still in Sirius' eyes, Harry plowed on, "I wasn't jealous and I'm embarrassed and ashamed of the things that I said. I'm sorry."

"I believe that you are sorry, Harry but I also believe there's a small part of you that has somewhere-deep inside- been harboring some of those thoughts. I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't hurt." Harry flinched. "I take partial blame for the sorry mess. I never should have topped your glass off time and time again."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was sorry for hurting Sirius, deeply sorry. But Sirius hadn't held him down and forced the liquor on him, he had drunk it willingly enough. "No, I won't let you do that." Harry stated emphatically. "I could have refused, but I didn't, none of what happened was your fault."

"Thank-you, Harry." Sirius replied quietly. "I appreciate that but still, I played my part and I apologize for that."

"Are we okay?" Harry asked meekly.

Sirius cocked his head the side and regarded Harry with serious eyes. "We've never argued before, have we?" Harry shook his head. "Differences of opinion happen in the best of relationships, my boy." Harry brightened considerably at the 'my boy'. "If I consigned every relationship I have to the bin each and every time I've had an argument with someone… well let's just say, I wouldn't be having much company." Sirius grinned and Harry felt a weight lift off of his heart.

"Can we forget this ever happened?" Harry suggested, fully expecting Sirius to agree and so it was a shock when instead of agreeing he said, "No, Harry… what's said is said. Apologies can be given and accepted but one can never take back the words and the sad truth is… those words can never be forgotten. Forgiven? Yes, but not forgotten? No, my lad, no."

Harry felt as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. "Now then," Sirius continued. "We've both said our piece and have had apologies all around. Let's not let it prey on our minds or be the ruination of us, but let us learn from them. Understand?"

Harry did, a bit. He wasn't much for delving deep into his thoughts, feelings or motivations, it made him uncomfortable. He wasn't the type to run away from physical obstacles or dangerous situations but more than once Hermione had told him that he'd had a habit of running away from his insides. At the time he hadn't quite understood what she'd meant and she hadn't elaborated but he could tell his inability to grasp her meaning had been frustrating to her. Maybe this was it? Maybe this was the point she had been trying to get him to recognize.

Clapping Harry on the shoulder, Sirius suggested in a jovial manner. "What do you say to a trip to Daigon Alley? You'll be needing school supplies and such."

Harry exhaled. "Sounds good. I could use a new quill.

After they made the necessary purchases, Harry tentatively asked Sirius if he would mind if he'd go to Hogwarts and meet up with Hermione. Looking surprised at the request, Sirius said, "Harry you needn't ask my permission, you're an adult now. Get along with you. I'll just keep Rosmerta here company for a while." He told Harry while giving the owner of The Three Broomsticks a cheerful leer. Her answering smile to his god-father's teasing had Harry high-tailing it outta there. He had no desire to sit by while Sirius worked the infamous Black charm on a woman.

"We got to talking about my parents." And you, he added silently. "You know, reminiscing about when they were at Hogwarts and stuff like that."

"And that's the excuse you're going to use for getting blind drunk?" Clicking her tongue in disapproval, Hermione said in exasperation, "I don't know that I care for the influence that over-grown school boy you call your god-father has on you."

Indignant at Hermione's summation of Sirius' character, Harry snapped, "And I don't know that I care for your maligning my god-father!"

Hermione blinked. What was wrong with him? Had alcohol addled his brain permanently? "Harry, I've made no secret of what I think of Sirius and his juvenile ways. Why, all of a sudden, does it bother you?" Hermione waited for his answer, an expectant look on her face.

Cripes! Harry thought to himself. How the hell am I going to save this situation without admitting to Hermione that Sirius had vehemently defended her character after he'd suggested that she must have been taking her clothes off to all of sundry? A sure fire way to a terrifying hex if he did, no doubting that outcome.

Refusing to meet her penetrating gaze, Harry spoke to the floor. "It's just that Sirius admires you and your – what was the exact thing he'd said? Um, I want to get it just right." Peeking up at her through his lashes, he battled to find the next words. "Your intelligence and he's grateful for what a good solid friend you've been to me."

Harry was quite proud of himself. He'd pulled a perfectly reasonable answer right out of his arse. It sounded pretty damn convincing to him.

Hermione just stared at him, saying nothing for a moment or two before breaking out into a torrent of giggles.

Harry was stupefied. Why was she laughing?

"Oh, Harry," She gasped, between giggles. "I've never heard such utter drivel." Hermione began to wipe tears of mirth from her cheeks. "I am very aware of Sirius' opinion of me. Bossy know-it-all, are but a few of the adjectives – and frankly the least obnoxious – that's ever been come out of his less than complimentary mouth."

"He does admire you." Harry insisted. "What about when he called you the brightest witch of our age?"

"Okay, okay… no need to get your boxers in a bunch." She exclaimed through eyes still shining with moisture. "I'll concede that he admires that fact that I've stood by you through everything and that he appreciates my masterful ability with a wand but that's where I draw the line of his admiration."

Harry shrugged, "Fine, believe what you want." He was just happy that she'd believed the partial untruth he'd told her. Better a part of it then none at all.

Deciding to let the subject of his inability to hold his liquor drop, Hermione asked, "I was about to have some tea, want to join me?"

She was eager to entertain her first guest as hostess to her new quarters.

The idea of tea and whatever snack Hermione might have available for the offering, made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. But there she was, smiling at him, making it clear how much it meant for him to stay and have tea with her. How could he say no to that?

"Sure." He agreed and hoped he'd sounded and looked suitably enthused.

"Great!" She exclaimed, while grabbing his hand and guiding him over to a ruby red couch. "Wait until I tell you about my plans for the year!" Harry groaned internally. He was going to be stuck here listening to her for hours.

Conjuring up a tea-set with a swish of her wand, she began to rattle off an itemized list of ideas that had his head-ache coming back full force.

Half an hour later Harry was struggling to keep the glassy-eyed boredom from showing. He'd 'uh-huh'ed where appropriate and 'really'ed when uh-huhs weren't and nodded and 'oh'ed and 'ahh'ed until he was sure Hermione, as brilliant as she was, would figure out that his attention had been wandering from the first ten minutes into it. But when Hermione warmed to a subject she was totally oblivious. It was completely at odds with her otherwise amazing ability to see through just about anyone to their true motivations.

Desperate to make his escape, he was getting ready to tell her that he was late for meeting up with Sirius and had, in fact, just placed his cup on the coffee table in front of him; when a knock sounded on the door.

Harry wondered who in the world would be coming to see Hermione other than himself and Ron. Not that Harry actually thought it was Ron, because let's face it, Ron wasn't all that enthused about finishing out his last year seeing as how Hermione had informed them they would be doing their own school work because Head Girls didn't allow for that sort of almost cheating. Ron had pleaded, even used the puppy dog eyes but Hermione held firm. Ron had not been happy with her at all so the chances on him paying a visit before term started was about nil.

Glancing at Hermione, Harry noted that she didn't look in the least surprised. Pleased? Certainly. But not surprised. She however surprised him by jumping up and running to an oval mirror by the mantle of the fire place and checking her reflection. She patted the twisted bun at the back of her neck and pinched her already pink cheeks. She further astounded him by whipping off her robes revealing her school uniform… sort of.

All through school, Hermione and been almost fanatical about her neat and proper appearance. What Harry saw now had his brows scrunching together. Sure, the white oxford shirt – which was a normal piece of school attire – was still neat and white to the point of hurting ones eyes and starched to within an inch of its life. But that's where the similarities ended! To start with, it wasn't its usual buttoned up self. Harry also couldn't help but wonder if she'd accidentally shrunk it in the wash as well. She just had to have because it clung – there was no other word for it – to her … um… rounded bits? Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he supposed that was what one called them while trying to be respectful about it. And as if that wasn't bad enough, several buttons – far too many in his opinion – were undone leaving her collarbones and several inches of skin beneath them, open to his astounded and curious eyes!

That wasn't the end of her transformation, oh no. Her skirt was hiked up disturbingly high; far higher than was necessary. That just couldn't be beneficial to her health, not at all! Everyone knew that it was unseasonably cool outside and even more so in the halls and rooms of Hogwarts and stayed that way until the heat from all the torches and sconces had an opportunity to infiltrate the stone walls, making it nice and toasty for its residents. Filch took care of that task a week before the students arrival and as both he and Hermione were early, well… it wasn't exactly toasty warm yet.

Harry did a double-take. Was she wearing tights without the upper parts?! She has to be, he thought in dismay. They stopped short mid-way up her thighs! What was holding them up? Where the hell were her socks?? Harry was totally flummoxed. Not only did Hermione have, uh… rounded bits but she had thighs too!

Harry blushed furiously and looked away from Hermione's exposed form. Was it hot in here? Harry glanced at the fireplace. Nope, no fire had been lit while he wasn't paying attention. Pulling at the collar of his own school shirt, Harry wished he'd unbuttoned a few of his own buttons. Sweat began to gather at the back of his neck. Not a lot but enough to dampen the hair there, making him even more uncomfortable. Suddenly, Harry's conversation with Diggory came flooding back. Diggory had made a point of pointing out that Hermione was a real, live breathing woman and even Sirius had questioned if Harry had thought of her as sexless.

Peeking once more in Hermione's direction, Harry noted that she was fussing with her skirt, smoothing it down. Harry's eyes widened in horror when she took her wand, mumbled a spell and watched as her skirt got even shorter!! This was just too much! Enough was enough! He was not going to let her answer the door looking like… looking like… that!

"Mione!" Hermione turned at the desperation in Harry's voice.

Frowning, she opened her mouth, presumably to ask what his problem was but Harry would never know for certain, because another knock came. This one louder and more insistent than the first.

Swiftly turning on her heel, she left him waiting on the couch frustrated at his inability to get her attention so that he could get her to see reason on her rather alarming new dress code. He tried, really tried, not to notice the expanse of white flesh that she unknowingly flashed him in her haste to get to the door. Did she even realize that when her skirt flared out like that with each step she took, that he could just about see her knickers?!

Flinging the door open wide, Hermione welcomed someone with a breathless, "Hi."

Harry craned his neck, nearly straining himself to see who was there. Maybe it was the Headmaster come to see her settled into her new abode. Yeah, that was a definite possibility, probably stopped in to make sure the Head Boy was okay too. It wouldn't be at all a strange thing for him to do; covering all the bases was Dumbledore's style as Harry knew from previous experience.

Although he couldn't actually see who was in the doorway, Harry could see Hermione reach out with one hand, much as she did when he'd come calling on her forty-five minutes ago. If he'd thought her attire was shocking, it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when her visitor stepped forward into Harry's line of vision.

Cedric Diggory!

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