Wedlocked
Chapter 5: Unfamiliar Ground

Despite being accustomed to walking down long corridors and up several flights of stairs while carrying a small library on her shoulder, Hermione took an exceptionally long time walking the short distance down Broad Street and up to the coffee shop on the second floor of the other bookshop. She walked almost leisurely through the store, pausing to examine titles which she had no intention of buying. This was no casual stroll; it was all a way to delay having to face Sirius. His gift of books minutes before had her feeling the inequity of this relationship even more than she already was.

"You are late," Sirius informed her without looking up from his book. His announcement drew the attention of the few customers that were sitting nearby. Hermione ducked her head and hurried to sit before he could start shouting his conversation for the entire store to hear.

"I see you found some titles worth purchasing," he commented.

"Thank you," Hermione said. "You really didn't have to."

"Engagement present," he replied absently with a slight shrug, as if laying out over a hundred pounds for a present was an everyday occurrence.

She frowned and set the heavy bag down on the floor. "I thought you already got the most ostentatious ring you could find."

"I did," he agreed with a winning smile. "That, however, was a gift for ridding me of my mother."

"I do wish you wouldn't spend so much on me," she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, avoiding his gaze. "You're already saving my life by marrying me. I can't ever repay that."

Sirius leaned back in his chair and watched her for a long minute, pulling at his coffee before finally speaking. "You seem to be forgetting who saved me from Dementors and Azkaban," he said. "If you're keeping score, I believe this marriage would make us even."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking at his open and earnest face. She had not forgotten about that night in her third year, but she had never considered it a debt to be repaid. Saving Sirius had simply been the right thing to do. Was that why he had agreed to the marriage? Binding himself to her with what was essentially an Unbreakable Vow hardly seemed the most sensible way to go about freeing himself from that debt, if that was, in fact, what he was doing.

"Still—" she began.

"No."

"No?"

"No 'still'. No 'but'. No any other objections you might try to make," he said, leaving no room for argument. "You got landed with me, and I will fulfil my duty and try to make your life as bearable as possible. Since all I have to offer is my money, I am going to buy you what you like. Sadly, at the moment, all I know about you is that you like books."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip as the familiar tingle of threatening tears came to her eyes. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he breathed a scathing laugh. "I haven't been doing anything with my life anyway. Even since my name has been cleared, I'm barely useful to anyone. I can at least be useful now." He looked hard into her eyes, forbidding any attempt she might make to argue.

"So," he said in a considerably lighter tone, "I am going to buy whatever I like for whomever I like whenever I like. This will include you whether you like it or not."

"Okay," Hermione said.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated.

"That wasn't nearly as difficult as I expected," he grinned.

Hermione blinked back her tears of sympathy and her befuddlement. His mood swings were extremely disorienting, and his opinions were very difficult to dispute. She was beginning to suspect that regardless of the argument Sirius would inevitably win even if she knew she was right.

A coffee was set in front of her despite the fact that she had not ordered anything, and she drank it without question as she considered her situation. This was all becoming increasingly more complicated than she had intended. She had thought this was going to be a simple marriage of convenience, where they had the ceremony to fool the Ministry and her parents, then she would go about her business and he his. When had Sirius become determined to be a good and useful husband?

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

She nodded silently, taking a sip of the coffee only to find the cup was empty.

"When do your parents eat dinner?"

"Around six usually," she said. That meant they would need to kill over five hours. She groaned inwardly at the thought of what they would do for so many hours, but Sirius seemed to have the opposite reaction.

He smiled as he stood. "Plenty of time to grab lunch and for you to show me round," he declared as he took her bag from the floor. "I saw some buildings that look freakishly like Hogwarts. I have to poke around."

"Touring that many colleges might get expensive," she warned.

"One: I'm rich," he informed her smugly. "And two: Who said anything about paying for a guided tour?" He grinned devilishly and led the way from the shop.

Hermione tried to persuade him to pay for a proper tour, terrified of what might happen if they were caught on grounds without proof that they belonged, but Sirius refused. The man much preferred his own method of touring, which involved opening every door, regardless of whether it was locked or not, and poking his fingers into all manner of old and important-looking artefacts.

"You'll have the Aurors on us in five minutes," she insisted. "I'll end up marrying Fred just because you're stuck in Azkaban again."

That thought quelled his enthusiasm a bit. He stopped using his wand to unlock doors and settled for entering only the doors that were already accessible, which still left them touring much farther into the massive stone colleges than any guide would have lead them. For all the school trips and family outings she had spent exploring these colleges, she had never seen half as many rooms, books, paintings and statues as she did that afternoon with Sirius. She had to admit that it was more fun and exciting his way and far more extensive. Though, she would never dare say it aloud for fear of encouraging her fiancé.

"I think we'll call this the last one," Sirius said as he put his hand onto the tarnished brass handle of a door deep inside All Souls College.

"You there!" someone shouted at them from down the corridor. "Hold it right there!"

Hermione froze.

The corridor looked enough like Hogwarts to make her feel as if she were back at school caught red-handed by Filch. Sirius might have felt the same, but his response was not to roll over to the old caretaker's authority but to run like hell. He gripped her hand and sprinted down the corridor, ducking around a bend and into the first doorway he could find, closing the door firmly behind them. They stood in the dark broom cupboard, trying to keep from breathing too loudly while they listened for the old porter running past. Hermione gripped his arm, feeling the tense muscles beneath her fingers. She sucked in a sharp breath as she heard the slap of tired, flat feet on the stone floor of the corridor. She was seconds away from panicking, but Sirius pulled her toward him protectively; it calmed her just enough that when the doorknob rattled she managed to keep from making any noise to give them away.

"Damn kids," the porter spat and kept walking.

Sirius laughed into her hair and hugged her close. "Hold on," he warned and Disapparated them to a dark corner near the entrance. Smiling as if he had not just snuck through half the college's out-of-bounds corridors and lecture rooms, he strolled out the main gate and onto the street.

"Would you believe that I miss Filch?" he sighed and shook his head.

"No," Hermione said. "I wouldn't."

He just smiled wider, no doubt reliving all the times he and his friends had managed to escape detention while in school. She directed him down the pavement away from city centre and ever closer to her parents' home.

"I really don't want to have this conversation," Hermione moaned and tried to turn around as she faced the imposing Victorian structure. The windows were shining brightly in the dimming evening light, telling her that her parents were in for the night.

Sirius forced her around and farther up the gravel drive, "Now or later, it's got to be done."

"Later," Hermione decided and tried to turn again.

"Now," Sirius said and pointed her forward. "I'll carry you if I have to. You've seen my muscles. You know I can."

"Stop showing off about your – Oh, god, the tattoos! I forgot!" she groaned. "Are they covered?" She stared hard at the fabric of his shirt, making sure it was completely opaque, pulled at his collar to see if any ink peeked up that far, rolled down his sleeves and fastened the buttons. She starting smoothing out the wrinkles and pulling imaginary bits of dust off his shoulders just to prolong the moment when she would have to knock on the door.

Sirius swatted away her hands. "Dammit, girl, there is nothing wrong with my shirt!"

"Hermione?"

The girl spun around at the voice, "Mum!"

"I thought that was you! What are you doing back?" the woman hurried to greet her daughter. "We've missed you. Come in. Come in. And your friend." She waved Sirius through the door, her arm never releasing its grip on Hermione.

"Mum, this is Sirius," the girl said.

"Please, call me Martha," the woman smiled, her deep brown eyes sparkling as she looked Sirius over top to bottom. A girlish blush touched her cheeks as she called her husband in. "Phillip, Hermione's come back for a visit and brought a friend."

The man gripped Sirius's hand tightly and greeted him warmly, if simply. "Phillip," he said.

"Are you one of Hermione's professors?" Martha asked, her voice filled with her interest and a slight giggle. "She speaks very highly of everyone on staff."

"No," Sirius said as he was guided wordlessly through the foyer and into the house. "But I know a number of them. One of my mates was a professor there for a time."

Conversation moved into the kitchen, where dinner was served without either of them being asked if they wanted it. Hermione would have loved to send Sirius a smug I-told-you-they-were-wonderful smirk, but she was too nervous.

"Which one might that have been?" Phillip asked.

"Lupin," Sirius said. "Remus Lupin. He taught Defence Against the Dark Arts two or three years back."

"Oh, I remember him," Martha cooed. "We met at King's Cross at the end of last year. Very nice man… handsome, too."

"Mum!" Hermione choked on her drink and flushed violently to hear her speak of a professor that way. She wondered if her mother would have been so complimentary toward the man if it had been him chosen to be her husband; somehow she doubted it.

"Well, it's true, dear," her mother said.

"I couldn't agree more," Sirius grinned. "My cousin's had her sights set on him for a few months now."

Hermione blinked and stared at him. "Tonks? Really? They're nothing alike."

"It's amazing how well that can work out sometimes," he shrugged. "He's trying not to fall her, though. Thinks he's too old for her – She's thirteen years his junior."

The girl's eyes darted between her parents' faces, studying every nuance for sign of disapproval. Their reaction was critical. Martha frowned slightly but Hermione could tell that she was thinking that a handsome man deserved someone to love. Phillip just nodded with no pause or distaste visible on his face.

"Well, I hope he stops being stubborn," Phillip laughed and raised his glass in a silent toast to Remus Lupin and his love.

"Agreed," Sirius grinned.

"So, if you aren't a professor," Martha asked. "Who are you? How do you know Hermione?"

Sirius looked briefly to the girl before speaking. "I'm Godfather to a friend of hers – Harry Potter."

"Oh, I do like that boy," the woman smiled. "Such a shame about his parents."

He nodded sadly, "They were good people."

"As I understood it," Mr Granger spoke slowly and looked from his daughter to her friend, "Harry's been living with some nasty relatives. Why hasn't he been living with you?"

Hermione could have kicked herself; she hadn't thought of that. After all the things she had told her parents about her friends, she should have known they would start asking questions about Harry and Sirius.

Considering the scrutiny he was currently under, Sirius did not seem in the least bit concerned. If she did not know the truth, she would never have known the man was lying through that sad smile. "I was away for quite some time," he said vaguely. "I knew what had happened, and tried to take him. But family won out. I never thought his aunt and uncle would treat him so poorly."

"But he's in your care now?" Martha asked, her hopeful smile undeniable evidence that his pretty face was having considerable sway on her opinion of him. Clearly no one so handsome could ever do anything so callous as leave a boy like Harry with horrid relatives, at least not in Martha's book.

"Yes and no," Sirius said. "He is officially my charge, but he isn't living with me. My house is barely fit for company after being vacant for so long. He's been staying at the Weasley's house like Hermione."

"But surely you can fix it up again instantly with magic," she insisted, leaning in and touching his arm lightly in the same way she did the butcher's son when he was explaining the best cuts of meat for a particular meal.

He just smiled. "Even with magic, pests are hard to remove."

"So you're the Godfather of our girl's best friend," Phillip recapped after a pause and a drink. "I don't quite see how that connection would have you over here for dinner. Not complaining, mind you, just observing."

Hermione blanched. She had not anticipated the question coming up so soon.

That wasn't true. She had expected it to be the first one from her mother's mouth, but when it had not come she had given way to the hope that they might make it through pudding before she had to tell them.

"Hermione?" her mother asked. "Is something wrong?"

The girl cleared her throat as delicately as she could, trying to give herself the time to find some way to tell them that would make her parents happy. "Well," she said. "I… Um… Sirius and I… we… uh… he… "

"Oh, god, you're pregnant!" Martha cried and knocked her chair to the floor in her eagerness to distance herself from Sirius.

"No!" Hermione shouted, scandalised by the suggestion. "I most certainly am not! We've only just gotten engaged! You know I would never!"

Following the loud and horrified accusation of pregnancy, the truth sounded rather dull. A silence followed during which everyone stared and blinked and tried to sort out whether the news was better or worse than the idea of Hermione having an illegitimate baby at sixteen.

"Engaged?" Martha repeated. "You're engaged?"

"Yes, mum," Hermione replied.

"Engaged… to him?"

"Yes, mum."

"Engaged to your best friend's Godfather."

"Yes, mum."

Martha released a shacking breath, adjusted her posture and walked with as much dignity as she could from the kitchen. A moment later, the woman started screaming from a room upstairs. A series of crashes began as she vented her disapproval on the nearest inanimate objects she could get her hands on.

"Don't know what she's breaking, but I'm sure we didn't need it anyway," Phillip muttered. "More brandy?" He poured the alcohol into their glasses without waiting for a reply.

"Aren't you going to start shouting?" Hermione questioned nervously.

Her father shook his head. "Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't. You're a bright girl, Hermione," he smiled. "I know you wouldn't give your heart away to just anyone."

Hermione did her best not to look awkward.

"Besides, you act older than I do half the time," he laughed. "I never thought you'd fall for someone your own age. And I couldn't yell at you for something I've done myself, now could I? Your mother's nine years younger than me. Hell, her mother was fifteen years older than her husband."

"Runs in the family, then?" Sirius said, not daring to smirk or raise an eyebrow.

"Yes, it does. What about your family?" he asked, his expression sobering and his voice heavier than it had been since their arrival. "What do they think about your child-bride?"

"Most of the ancient house of Black," he sneered, "won't be too pleased, but I don't give a damn. The only family I care about love her already," Sirius said with absolute honesty. He didn't bother mentioning that Hermione's age had little to do with his family's disapproval of her, which was information she was more than happy to have left out.

Mr Granger nodded appreciatively, taking a sip of his brandy. Hermione knew he was waiting but did not know why or for what. She opened her mouth to explain further but her father just shook his head and kept waiting. It took forty-five minutes but his patience paid off when Martha pushed the door open and sat back down at the table.

"I don't like this one bit, Hermione," she said with forced calm.

"I know, mum," the girl replied quietly.

"Will you promise not to hurt her?"

"No," Sirius said, earning a glare from both mother and daughter. "Only an idiot would make a promise like that. She knows that I'm hardly the easiest person in the world to live with. There are going to be days she'd prefer to run away rather than face my moods. She did just last night."

"I did not!" Hermione protested.

"You were gone this morning, your bed was made like it hadn't been slept in, Hermione," he said, anger colouring his voice. "I know you left rather than face me in the morning."

"I'm so sorry that I like to keep things tidy," she spat. "I'm so sorry that all my things are at the Burrow and I didn't want to visit my parents after I slept in my clothes! I came back after breakfast. You're the one who avoided looking at me all morning!"

"Because I thought you left me," Sirius insisted.

"I did," she said. "But I came back."

Sirius stared at her a moment, pain and embarrassment flashing across his face. "Next time leave a note," he requested.

At least she knew the reason for the anger and ache she had seen every time he looked at her that day.

"I will."

Phillip cleared his throat loudly, drawing their attention back to the fact that they were not alone in the room. "Well, you've certainly got the quarrelling down, I'll give you that," he said with surprising humour. "Fair warning to you, Sirius, our girl is master of the storm in a teacup. Best keep your nose clean or risk giving her even more to rage about."

Hermione clicked her tongue in annoyance and turned back to her pudding, long since forgotten and cold.

"Where will it be?" Martha asked, her tone strained but civil. "The wedding, where will it be? It's just that the back garden is lovely this time of year and if you wanted…"

"Thank you, mum," Hermione said, tears filling her eyes. "That would be perfect."

A/N: Admittedly, I've only read a few marriage law stories, but in each one Hermione's parents were fully aware of what was happening and why and they loved their son-in-law for saving their daughter and blah blah. Does anyone else find that hella trite and annoying?