A note from Serade Black: So, off to a good start. My muse is rather pleased with the outline of this story. I'm sorry to put down "Perchance..." for a little while after an already long hiatus, I just wanted to try and get this one out, so that I might be pressed to continue and finish it without losing that "fire".
If you've read my other stories, you will see that sometimes I jump between POV. I know this is against the rules in some text, but for me, it's my fan fiction style. Forgive me. I hope it's clear to you readers, regardless. Also, yes, I have been writing Viktor dialogue like we read in the HP books - as it sounds. Sorry that I didn't do it for this first chapter, I will work on the consistency. Enjoy ~ SB
Ch. 2 - "The Fire Returns"
The holidays were well over. Gifts had been unwrapped, returned and now everyone was still winding down from the hustle and bustle that always created headaches and resentment. The chaotic thrill of the New Year was beginning to take its stride as the colors of red, white and silver adorned store fronts with fake hearts and otherwise loving romantic things. Valentine's Day had arrived.
Muggle London was far from quiet. Shops still advertised after Christmas sales while others were liquidating. Tacky touristy knick-knacks littered the streets as Americans ogled at the price of three t-shirts for ten quid. You always knew you were stuck behind American tourists: they were the pedestrians stopping at each crosswalk looking to their left, rather than right. Traffic sounds filled the air with horns honking in the distance at nearly every red light, proving it was far easier to walk where you wanted to go, rather than drive or take a black cab.
Diagon Alley served no sanctuary to the wizarding world, seeing as it too seemed to bellow with its own "city sounds" as muggle London. The romantic holiday was all a buzz from love potions on special, to floating cupids that targeted worthy suitors once released by desperate lonely women. Couples walked the sidewalks hand in hand, drunk off special cider imported by Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.
Sirius walked amongst the slow paced crowd; his hands deep in the pockets of his wool pea coat. Trying to avoid being noticed, his collar was turned up and his scarf tied tightly around his neck. He kept his head down, watching his feet and where they stepped, occasionally glancing ahead of him to avoid the pebble in the walking stream going in the opposite direction. He knew this route well, he'd done it since he was a child and just like all the times before, he weaved and bobbed, turned a corner where no one else would pay attention and ducked into the Leaky Cauldron without being noticed.
Once inside, he was welcomed by a warm sensation that seemed to reach his core. The smell of the hearth, the cobwebs in the rafters, the low lighting from odd candles floating about and the otherwise worn-out feeling from its normal inhabitants. Seeing that most of the tables were occupied, Sirius turned towards the bar to find a barstool with his name on it.
"Hey Sirius, having a pint?" said Tom, the bartender from behind the counter. He was just topping off another customer's frothing butter beer.
"No thanks, Tom," Sirius replied, loosening his scarf and unbuttoning his coat like he was settling in for the night. "Afraid I'm in the mood for some liver damage. Firewhiskey, double, on the rocks. Need something to warm my bones."
Tom obliged and poured Sirius's drink before him without any fancy flicks or moves, just plain ice and whisky without the frill. After nodding his thanks, Sirius picked up the glass with three fingers and took the first sip of amber liquid, smacking his lips and tilting his jaw as the fiery contents burned down his throat sending a slight shiver over his skin.
Surveying his surroundings as one does when they sit at the bar alone, Sirius looked to his left and right to see what sort of characters might be his conversation companions a little more into the bottle. To his left sat a man that looked like he was asleep as he coveted a similar glass of Firewhiskey, wearing worn clothes, a cloak with holes in it and a slightly tilted wizard hat on his head. To Sirius's right sat an older witch, wearing what appeared to be an evening gown with cowboy boots and having a rather in-depth conversation with herself. Not looking like either being was worth a conversation starter, Sirius decided to keep to himself and question Tom about the local town gossip.
As Sirius was being filled in on the latest information that even Rita Skeeter wasn't privy to, the door towards the passageway to Diagon Alley would open and close. Folks would greet one another, as others were just passing on through. Sirius was just admiring the dust on the bottles of American beer stocked overhead, as a familiar female voice could be heard two wizards away from him.
"Just a butter beer, please," the pleasant voice requested.
Sirius craned his head to see around the sleeping wizard that was blocking his view of the pretty young brunette that he shared company with on his old family porch. Before Tom could open his mouth to greet the woman, Sirius interrupted, "I got this one, Tom."
"No, that's okay," Hermione said without looking, taking out her wallet stuffed deep into her oversized bottomless purse. A side glance made her do a double take as she grinned, "Sirius!"
Leaving her things behind, Hermione went around the wizards between them to greet Sirius with a friendly hug. Smiling big and wide, her eyes twinkling like she just walked off of a photo shoot; she still had that sweet angelic face he remembered peering at from behind bars. She smelled of expensive perfume and dressed so tidy and well put together in a kind of casual elegance with her coordinating scarf, gloves and matching headband.
"You are a sight for sore eyes in this place," he said pulling away and patting the empty stool on the other side of him.
With a sincere smile, she moved her bags of shopping on the floor between them and propped herself up on the stool, "Thank you." She removed her gloves and folded them delicately before her, as she lifted her butter beer glass, waiting for cheers.
After the two glasses clanked together, Sirius sipped his drink and winced at the delightful burn. "Twice in two months? What do I owe the pleasure? Sure you don't want a Firewhiskey instead?"
She made a face and shook her head, her curls falling around her shoulders romantically, "Absolutely not. That stuff is vile."
"Suit yourself!" he said with another sip of his amber liquid that made him exhale enough that light puffs of smoke exited passed his lips. "Sorry, why are you here, now?"
"I'm waiting for, Viktor. We're in London for a preliminary game and I just went off to do a little shopping while I was here. We're only in town for a couple of days and then we're off to Berlin tomorrow afternoon with the team."
"Have you seen Harry, while you're here?" Sirius inquired. She had just taken a sip, causing her to get a small bit of foam on her upper lip. Smirking, Sirius reached for a small cocktail napkin and offered to remove it from her lip. Ever the lady, she took the napkin from him and dabbed her lips clean of foam.
She shook her head, "No time. I was barely able to say hello to my parents. They're muggles, so no Floo, and even that was an in-out sort of deal. I only came to Diagon Alley, because they carry a special ink and quill I favor and I can't write any owls without it."
Listening to her speak, Sirius found himself admiring how soft her skin looked, glowing practically, like the shining new dew on a leaf during the sunrise. It was apparent even in the dimmest of lighting in a ratty old pub. She seemed to have quite an air about her that made him see her in a more mature light. Far from the little girl that was his godson's best friend; she was a woman all grown up with a life of her own.
"You? What are you doing on what I think is the coldest day I've ever had in February? Shopping for a beloved on such a day?" she asked sweetly. She sipped her butter beer a bit more carefully, her napkin quick to her lips to avoid any foam left behind.
"No beloved, hardly. My days are filled with heavy loads of taking up space and enjoying freedom."
"Sounds challenging," she quipped sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.
"Very. I do some trading, now. wizard trading, of course. The muggle stock market is so contrived; I'd rather not get involved in it. I just stick with what I know. It's like playing a game...you win some, you lose some and if you walk away still wearing your shirt, then it's fine."
"That sounds better, otherwise I'd half expect you to be holed up in your house watching bad American television or something," she mused, her eyes glancing to the Diagon Alley door just beyond him.
"I'll have you know that I have quite an extensive, yet impressive, collection of bad American T.V. shows. Catalogued, as we speak."
She started to break a smile, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip, "You are joking."
"Hermione, do I look like someone who has something to gain by lying? I am not kidding, I have it all. From Hill Street Blues to Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, I've got all the decades," he boasted, raising his glass high. His wavy black hair fell behind his shoulders while his chin rose in a patriotic way quite proud of his achievements, "You could say it is my other claim to fame."
She tried to stifle a small giggle, but failed miserably, "You know that sounds pathetic don't you? Truly out of character?"
Sirius bowed his head and leaned in to whisper quietly, "Then don't tell anyone."
Every so subtly, Hermione licked her lips and said, "I will have to come over and see this in person someday."
Refraining himself from furthering the innocent flirtation, Sirius merely offered a genuine smile as he tossed his hair out of his face. She returned the smile, but then it immediately fell as her eyes focused on something just passed Sirius. She quickly set her mug down and spun around on her stool to gather her things from the floor.
"Vhere hav you been? I've been vaiting for fifteen minutes!" Viktor, flanked by two larger bodyguards, came into the Leaky Cauldron by way of the Diagon Alley passageway. The otherwise quiet pub started to bustle with several onlookers beginning to whisper as he rushed in and visually swept the place looking for his wife.
Hermione had dropped her friendly demeanor, her smile gone and she was quick to answer like a wife under immediate duress, "Viktor, I thought you said to meet you in here." Her voice was flat, stoic and as she grabbed the last of her parcels sitting on the floor near her stool, she mentioned Sirius. "Viktor, you remember Sirius?"
Sirius slowly turned on his stool, his eyes traveling past the behemoth of a man that acted as Krum's bodyguard and settling on the gruff looking player. His hair was cut short, military-style, and his jacket was obnoxious for this not so frigid temperature in England.
The two men eyed one another carefully; Sirius a little put-off with the tone of his voice toward Hermione. Instead of a friendly smile, Sirius's eyes narrowed, but offered to be the better man to extend a hand in polite custom. Barely shaking, their grip was firm and tight in order to try and stake superiority rather than cordial greeting. Hermione, who was putting on her gloves she had folded on the bar counter, was oblivious to the testosterone flinging about
With a curt nod, Viktor dropped his pleasantries and turned back to Hermione, "Next time, you be at bookstore like ve talked, right?"
"Yes Viktor, sorry," she said ready to go; her shopping clutched from her hands and hanging from her shoulders. None of the men offered to assist her.
She followed behind them, offering a wave to Sirius, "Take care!"
"Yes, bye Hermione. Next time, stay in London longer!" he called after her as she went through the door that was at least being held open for her. With one last glance from the larger of the two bodyguards, the pub door was slammed closed, more than necessary.
"Git," Tom, the bartender said, wiping a mug clean and still staring at the door after the ogre-like men had vacated the premises.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Down a random road in Kensington, a pale blue house with white trim sat on the corner. Blending in to this very muggle neighborhood, the only thing out of the place was the enchanted motorcycle that sat parked along the side of the house. Though just by sight no one would have known it could fly, the rest of the houses had normal vehicles parked in front or along the houses.
Inside the spacious home, Sirius sat at his small marble kitchen table with four settings, just setting down his steaming cup of coffee in a black mug. He had just moved in within the month, having taken up residence again at Grimmauld Place, awaiting his legal pardons to come through from the Ministry. He wanted something nice, something that wasn't a constant reminder of his darker family, but still something that was fine and antique.
He was never going to be able to stray from his aristocratic tastes, so his furnishings were Victorian, but with a few modern touches. The parlor had large elegant couches with a chandelier over head, but across the wall was a very large flat screen television. Tall windows were dressed with heavy tapestry curtains in maroon and navy, while the walls were adorned with classic art as well as modern portraits of friends and chosen family.
The master bedroom was big with large bay windows overlooking the street. His four poster bed was carved out of a rich mahogany, with royal blue and purple comforter, pillows and sham. A chair and ottoman sat in the corner under an old Tiffany lamp. A raggedy old afghan knitted by Molly when Sirius had just returned from Azkaban was thrown over the backside of the chair.
Overall, the two-level house was still awaiting additional furnishings and Sirius had made a few "to-do" projects, but otherwise, it was home. Complete with framed poster of the Hobgoblins, signed by Stubby Boardman, hanging on the wall of his kitchen.
Sirius was just unfolding a letter that had just arrived from Harry's owl informing him of a dinner with a few others in three nights' time. Dessert was his only responsibility. He glanced over to his calendar that hung on the wall, making sure there were no other important dates that conflicted.
"Blimey, is it the end of March, already?" he asked himself aloud. He thought to himself that though he had been back nearly two years and the time was now flying by.
Also arriving with Harry's owl was the morning Daily Prophet. It was rolled tightly, tied with a black ribbon to keep it closed. Tearing the band off and spreading it open before him; his eyes scanned the headlines for interesting news as he lifted his cup to his lips. Believing that the Prophet was losing its "charm", he was already on the second page reading the stock quotes that intrigued him long enough to check on his investments. With a pleasing nod, he moved on over to the Quidditch scores where the Bulgarian team was ranked number three in the world. Viktor was not named in the brief article. His eyes scanned to the opposite side where they ran the "people of interest" stories of those related to the game. New births...arrests...divorce...sightings.
A flash bulb went off in the medium sized picture on the lower right hand side of the page. The business was busy as it jostled and moved as a player within was being escorted away from an appearance in the states. New York had apparently fallen in love with Viktor Krum and with that came heightened security with extra hands leading the young Quidditch player out of harm's way. As he was being led off, his lovely brunette wife followed close behind; a notebook and clipboard were tucked under her arm. Careful inspection of the photograph would notice that Viktor was not holding his wife's hand as they were being escorted through the throes of fans and curious on-lookers (muggles), but Viktor was holding his wife's wrist. Intimate hand holding was easily misunderstood, but Sirius noticed the finer detail.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Sirius Apparated behind a dumpster belonging to a muggle chip shop that was only open for lunch. Wrappers from tourists' lunches were scattered around his feet as he waded through the bags of garbage. Clucking his tongue as he shook his head, he was careful not to step into anything that might stick to his boot forcing him to take it all the way home with him. Once free of the debris at his feet, he pulled on his coat lapels and adjusted the fit of his jacket as he started the two block walk towards number twelve Grimmauld Place.
The air was crisp, clean and brisk as he walked down his childhood street. Knowing this path all to well, he listened to the sounds his boots made as he stepped along the pavement relishing the feeling of freedom. Once a marked man incarcerated in a venue of hate and despair, walking alone to a house that held terrible family memories didn't seem as bad as it used to be.
The large front door swung open as Sirius approached the stoop. Ginny met him with a bright smile; a brief flashback of Lily crossed his mind. She spoke his name, shaking him out of his trance and welcomed him inside, offering him a greeting with a kiss on the cheek.
"He's in the kitchen, of course," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. "Can't keep them out of there!"
Upon hearing her name being called, Ginny twirled in a red flurry to run up the stairs. Each step creaked the way it used to when Sirius lived there, reminding him of the way his mother used to run up the stairs to stop he and his brother Regulus from attempting to blow something up.
Sirius carried on down the hall, glancing left and right to the portraits that smiled and nodded their pleasant demeanors, far from the gloomy faces that used to look back at him, along with the heads of previous house elves. Down at the end of the hall, Sirius noticed a new portrait. It was of him, smiling proud and standing next to Harry as they both stood by Sirius's new motorbike, basking in its greatness.
Finally, he reached the door to the stairs that led down into the kitchen. Pushing it open, he was swept away with a mouthwatering assortment of smells that seemed to permeate the room in the most enchanting way. Boiled potatoes sat on the stove, pot roast was cooking over the hearth in the fireplace, a salad with enchanted tongs tossed itself as it added spicy ingredients and place settings were gathering to be set up on the table.
"Hey, Sirius," Harry said with a slight wave, as he noticed his godfather walking in. Harry seemed to be trying to follow a story Fleur appeared to have him captivated by. "Help yourself to the butter beer, mate."
"Thanks, just going to use the loo, first," Sirius said and ducked back out of the kitchen after making a round of hellos.
Sirius walked back through the hallway towards the washroom just off his father's old study, now Harry's home office. He passed by the piano, pressing a single key out of habit and glanced up to a smiling portrait of James and Lily dancing by the fountain in Godric's Hollow. He heard the door to the washroom ahead of him open and out stepped a striking young brunette wearing his favorite color of maroon in the form of a wrap dress. Stretched against every womanly curve in the most alluring manner, Sirius barely managed to meet the gaze of her chocolate brown eyes and warm smile as they passed, nearly touching shoulder to shoulder.
"Hello Sirius," she said pleasantly, offering a kiss on his cheek, just like Ginny had.
"Hermione, wonderful to see you," he replied, feeling his ears practically burn with guilt as he realized he had just given her an old-fashioned "once over". "Didn't know you were joining us this evening."
She looked away, somewhat embarrassed, "Yes, well, I wasn't really invited. Viktor had a press junket to attend in London tonight and I sent Harry an owl asking him to join me for dinner. He then replied for me to join him...er, all of you. So, I hope that's okay?"
For the second time, he caught himself, realizing that some of his old habits were surfacing and had no prejudice to whom they were practicing on. Feeling a little foolish, he cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure no one down there would be happier to have you with us."
She smiled and turned away, somewhat bashful, "Thank you."
He gave a polite nod and went towards the washroom. As he sensed her out of the room, something in him wanted to glance back and see those last seconds of her retreat. Just catching her turn the corner of the parlor, his eyes couldn't help but scan over rear, down her firm legs and finish off on her slender ankles. Turning back towards the washroom, he finally urged himself on to enter the small room. He closed the door behind him, placed his hands palms down on the sink and slowly lifted his head to see himself in the mirror.
With a great intake of breath and a heavy sigh, he looked deep into his own grey eyes and whispered, "Well, that is incredibly inconvenient."
The guests had all taken their seats in the old dining room that seemed to have a much brighter feel to it, now that the Potters had moved in. White wispy curtains replaced dark drab ones, the thread bare carpeting was a cream color, and the place settings were shining silver and glasses, rather than old antiqued heirlooms. The table and chairs stayed the same, Harry not having the heart to destroy everything. Even he had good taste in fine furniture.
Ginny fluttered around between the kitchen and the dining room, charming pots, plates, side dishes, serving spoons, and ladles to place themselves on the table so everyone could serve themselves. Not having a house elf did have its disadvantage when it came to feeding a big group. The youngest Potters already had already an early meal, so it left the adults free to discuss what they liked uninterrupted.
Harry sat at the head of the table, Ginny directly across on the other side. To his left sat Sirius and Ron and opposite them were Tonks, Remus and Hermione. Hermione sitting next to Ginny. There were candles lit on the table, plenty of Firewhiskey and butter beer, and Sirius's apple pie cobbler standing by for dessert.
From the start of the meal, Hermione didn't have too much to say other than complimenting Ginny on how she flavored the pot roast and the fact that it was so tender. She kept her thoughts to herself, not contributing too much on the current state of broom makers or the money Sirius had invested through the wizarding trade. None of that appealed to her, so all she mentioned was about a new boutique in Diagon Alley that specialized in bottomless bags and went on listening to everyone around her as she quietly sipped from her glass of Elven wine.
As her eyes scanned over the different pieces on the table, they landed on Sirius for a few extra moments. She watched him carefully as he used his free hand not holding a fork or mug to physically express his views on the wizarding market compared to the muggle market.
Upon further exploration, the Elven wine now heightening her senses, she couldn't help but secretly admire how handsome a man he really was. It had been ages since she'd gotten a good look at him, far from the empty shell of a man she first met. Sirius had become a very distinguished man in his late thirties that seemed to be hitting his prime. His dark wavy hair framed his sharp featured face that was accented with slight laugh lines around his eyes, reminding her of a young retired rock star. He looked quite dashing in his collared shirt and striped blazer, which it was apparent his taste in fine fabrics was not wasted on him.
To the outside eye, it appeared that Sirius was slowly agreeing with the man he had become, rather than the boy thrown in prison. His voice was strong, firm, assertive, while his mannerisms remained friendly and jovial if the moment called for it. He still had a bark-like laugh and it made Hermione smile just slightly when the sound filled her ears.
He appeared to be deep into telling a story about him and James outrunning the muggle police, that Hermione hadn't even noticed the conversation had changed directions and was now focused on her. Hearing her name being called, Hermione gave herself a light shake, realizing that she was zoning off and asked the speaker to repeat the question.
"Tell me about Bulgaria, love," the man she was just admiring asked. He poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey and leaned back in his seat, preparing for a long winded story. "Is it all parkas and snow or is that just what they show in pictures?"
Clearing her throat and nodding her head to Ginny as more wine was offered, she thought of her home, "Well, it's quite nice, actually. Takes quite a bit of adjusting. Seasons aren't bad up there."
"It's cold, I get it," Sirius joked, motioning his hand to go on.
"No, no, the seasons change. The culture is unique and the history is just amazing. I mean, we have some incredible architecture here, but there, it is simply gorgeous. We live in a city called Sofia and modern buildings were built around pieces dating back to the fourth century, which to me is unheard of. I mean, of course we have many of those things here, but to me they're new discoveries; it's almost magical to see landmarks like that still standing." Hermione went on as she described her neighborhood and her commute out of the suburbs, but there still seemed to be something lacking in the passion for her home.
"Have you learned the language? Do you do anything up there, or are you a stay at home wife?" Sirius pried, unsure of the answer he would get. She did not have that twinkle in her eye when talking to him about Bulgaria.
"I've managed to pick up some, not a lot, mind you. I can't carry a very long conversation, yet; it's a very complicated language. I'm studying it more and more, hoping to maybe become a translator within the country, but so far, not a lot of progress."
"A translator? Hermione, you can do better than that," Sirius commented, looking slightly unimpressed. Annoyed, even. Although, the historical elements did travel well to him, he did not see how she could have too much of a social life while living in a place where her language was restricted with a husband who always had something to say, even if she didn't understand it.
"Well, I'm not much into anything more than that, to tell you the truth. I mean, Viktor's schedule is very chaotic-"
"Viktor's schedule? What about yours? Surely, you've got some friends there? Girls to go out with? Libraries to reorganize?"
Hermione shook her head, not bothered too much by it, "No, only other wives or friends with the team. I usually only correspond with family and friends through owls. There are the rare few that I might come across, but really no one I could socialize long enough with. It's fine and that's why I've made a mental note to come visit more often. London isn't really that far away by portkey and well, my family is here-"
"And his is there." Harry murmured, obviously a little put-off that he hadn't seen his friend in ages and when she did come around, it was normally just for a game. But, for the last couple of years, she hadn't visited at all.
"Yes, his is there. It's important that he sees them, because he sees them so little as a player. It's good for him, besides he has older brothers he really misses. I am an only child, so only my parents miss me."
"Not true, Hermione. We miss you, Ginny misses you, and the lot of us misses you. We've been through a lot together and it is as good of a family as I've ever had." Harry was clear to object her justifying her reasons for staying in Bulgaria so long. You could tell by the infliction in his voice that he was not pleased by her residency.
"Yes, well, I did say I was going to try to spend more time here."
A silent moment passed where all you heard was the clock ticking the seconds away. Harry heard his name being called from the floors above and folded his napkin down on his empty plate. Somewhere a child stirred and Ginny's name was summoned shortly after. The two parents excused themselves and left their company alone to the settling sounds of the house as well as a pan down in the kitchen scrubbing diligently, cutting grease away with unseen magic.
The room was uncomfortably quiet and no one even wanted to breathe, so instead they just sipped from their glasses or straightened their finished fork.
"He's just being-" Remus started, trying to break the tension.
"I know what he's being." Hermione held her hand up to cut Remus off. "He pretends to rather like Viktor, but then gets like this when I'm alone without him. It's almost not worth it to argue."
"He's not arguing with you, Hermione," Remus tried to calm. "You're the one woman that has been in his life the most and you can tell that he may be a little protective of you. He's just using the voice to let you know you always have an open door with him. Things like that shouldn't be taken advantage of."
"I know, Remus," she sighed, running her fingers along the crested wood below her empty dinner plate. She always thought fondly of Harry, sometimes more than Ron, but that was to be expected as she was always closer to Harry in that fashion. "I don't take advantage of them, I know they're there, I know you're all there. It's just hard to balance life, you know?"
"Your life or Viktor's?" Sirius interjected, setting his glass carefully on the table, waiting for an answer. He knew the girl felt put on the spot, but it was time she answer for it.
Hermione glanced up under thick lashes, but said nothing at first. Their eyes met and hers were full of questions and conflict, knowing that what she was living with probably wasn't ideal for others, but it was her world. Aware of her silence, Sirius did not allow her to remain quiet. He tilted his head and leaned in across the table as if extracting a secret.
"Well?" he asked.
The intensity of his eyes on her was nearly too much for her to take, so she averted her eyes and focused on a fold in the placemat. Her teeth nibbled slightly on her lower lip as she tapped her fingers nervously on the table top, beginning to feel pressured and ganged up on.
She had joined them for a nice dinner, not to be put on the spot to answer for her life's choices. Especially not from someone who had been gone for over eight years. This was not the time for an intervention. Feeling all eyes on her, she stood abruptly from the table, dropping her napkin on her half empty plate and excused herself.
Sirius thoughts began to fester as he kept replaying the scene in the Leaky Cauldron over and over of the way Viktor regarded her. Perhaps he just witnessed them on a bad day, after an argument from the morning, but Hermione was in London and she didn't even bother to see Harry or other friends? Was she afraid that Viktor's schedule couldn't be adjusted for her needs? He was not going to let her get away from him without an answer. Ignoring all the sets of eyes on him, Sirius stood up and followed after her, through the back door.
Hermione had caught her breath as she stepped out onto the back deck. She felt like the walls were closing in on her with the questioning, the judging and finally the questioning of her independency. The chill on the night bit her to the bone that she'd wished she had taken her sweater with her upon her dramatic exit. Just as well, she needed to "cool off" after that last conversation.
The door behind her squeaked open and she prayed that it was Ginny or even Tonks coming outside to speak to her, but as she glanced back, she saw that it was Sirius that had followed her. With a subtle roll of the eyes, she shook her head slightly and walked to the wood railing overlooking the back garden and the overgrown sidewalk leading through it.
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming out after him, he pulled a worn out pack of cigarettes from the inside of his jacket. Put one to his lips and struck a match off the side of the house. His first inhale was deep, therapeutic even, clearing his head and preparing to further their conversation.
Sirius's voice broke the silence, "It's his, isn't it?"
Hermione said nothing; she didn't even glance his way. Instead, she wrapped her hands around her own shoulders to battle the chill. Without a second thought, Sirius shrugged his own coat off and offered it to the witch that refused to speak to him. Her eyes glanced at the coat, then to his face and finally her own pride won her over, allowing him to set it over her shoulders. She quietly thanked him, pulling it somewhat closed, noticing it smelled like his cologne and secretly disgusted that she found the scent alluring.
Sirius took another deep drag off his cigarette, preparing for his rant. "What happened to the fire in you, Hermione? What happened to the girl that had a passion for knowledge in the never ending pursuit of everything in the world?"
For even longer Hermione said nothing, she was thinking. Her eyes tried to focus on what she believed was a butterfly searching over the flowers, looking for a place to land, but it was dark. It might even have been a small sprite of some sort. Her brow furrowed and it was evident that her tension was tightening in a way that made her whole body rigid under the oversized coat. She felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and slap him, but instead just gave him a side glance as if to barely acknowledge that he even spoke.
"Oh, Hermione, this is a disappointment. Please tell me she's not gone," he asked, his voice sincere, almost pleading.
Her lips felt dry, so she licked them calmly as she prepared, "No, she's not gone. She's still there and comes out at times, but not lately. My life, my destiny, has been driven towards another direction, one I am very much grateful for." She looked over at him, stressing her point, "It's the path that I've chosen."
Sirius shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning into a mocking smirk, "Sweetheart, it's not a path. This isn't some righteous choice in the name of the Gods, th-this is your life as well. I'm not the one to give you advice, nor can I pretend that I know you better than anyone, but what I do see is a beautiful woman with brilliant talent that is tethered by a thick headed broom rider-"
Hermione whipped her head around quickly, "He's not thick-headed!"
"He is."
"No, he's not. He's a very talented Quidditch star that has risen above many terrible hardships in his life to be what he is. He's brilliant, he's a very gifted wizard and could have won the Tri-wizard Tournament if he-"
"-if he wasn't so thick-headed enough to be brainwashed by Igor."
"That wasn't his fault! He was excellent in that tournament up until then and-"
"Hermione, please. You don't have to defend your loyalty, enough already," Sirius turned, waving her off like a fly. He inhaled his cigarette again and exhaled it so the smoke surrounded him.
Hermione was seething. She felt her heart pounding, her stomach churning and her hands beginning to ball up into tiny fists. "He's also one of the most romantic men I've ever met, he's a good husband, we live very well," she finalized with a cross of her arms over her chest. The sleeves of his coat went past her hands, forcing her to look like a child in an adult's coat.
With a sarcastic chuckle, he only finished his cigarette halfway and chucked the rest in the bin before turning back around on her. He pushed his unruly dark hair out of his eyes and said, "I'm pleased to hear that, because how else would you be able to swing all those name brand clothes, those perfect nails, the hand bags from Italy-"
"It is my job to look my absolute best in the eyes of the public-"
"YOUR JOB?" he released that signature bark-like laugh that was heard earlier in the dining room. "Hermione, are you even listening to yourself? You're not performing a public service! Your job is not to be someone's wife, your job is something to contribute to society, or to the community, or to the wizarding world!"
Sirius did all he could to resist another hearty chuckle. Did the pretty girl actually think this was a job? He could see know that he had struck a serious nerve with the way she was nibbling her lower lip and how her chest started to rise and fall with great depth now. He watched the transformation before him and intrigued him to admit that the angrier she got, the sexier she looked. But, this was Hermione!
Still, he could not resist trying to break the camel's back, "Being a Quidditch player's wife is not a skill, it's an insult and I would have thought better coming from you!"
"Sirius, I will not allow you to judge me by my appearance, because of-"
"Why not? You said so yourself it was a job to look the way you do, so what else am I supposed to go on, love?"
That did it. Her nostrils flailed, her fists were tightly balled, her lips sneered and he could tell it was all she could do to not smack his lopsided, all-too-pleased-with-himself grin right off his face. She pushed passed him and went back inside, biting her tongue for as long as she could.
Following behind her after a few short seconds, but not too closely, he walked back into the dinner party. All eyes were between him and the empty doorway he assumed Hermione had just stormed through. Every step, or rather stomp, she made echoed through the house. Right before she slammed the front door shut, indicating her departure, she muttered something indecent to call him under her breath. Sirius's keen sense of hearing caused him to smirk as he took his seat. It tickled him that he had reduced her to name calling.
Shortly after her parting, Harry came own the kitchen stairs and said nothing, just merely rejoining his company and pouring more Firewhiskey into his glass. He extended the offer to Sirius, who nodded politely for a refill.
"Sorry Harry, she was being a pill." Sirius was somewhat ashamed of himself for running her up the way he did. It was not becoming of him, nor was it polite to accuse her of such materialism and putting her on the spot.
Harry finally broke into a light smirk and chuckle under his voice, "I haven't seen her that angry in a very long time."
"It was a mutual fight, I'm sorry," Sirius mused, shaking his head. He knew everyone was watching him very closely, still stunned to say anything.
"No, it's fine. Like I said, I haven't seen her that angry in a long time," he smiled. "It's good to see you can bring back a little of the old Hermione."