Disclaimer: This is LysPotter, and I own nothing….Just having a little depressing fun with these characters. The good people of the world like EJ frown on me for this…

Previously: We meet Ashley and Sirius, and Harry leaves late, fearing retribution from unhappy relatives. Hermione forgets to call Remus by his first name.

Chapter Six: Love…or Lack Thereof, in which Meghan and Sirius banter, the Grangers return from Spain, and more depressing things ensue.

Meghan and Sirius stayed seated on the sofa far into the night. She let her head loll back onto his shoulder and he wound his arms protectively around her waist.

At some point late that night, Meghan sat up straight in his lap and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry," the white tiger Animagus whispered.

"Whatever for?" the black dog Animagus asked, nonplussed. Tears formed in her startlingly blue eyes as she shifted herself off his lap.

"I never tried to get you out. I couldn't stop focusing on the damned promise I made to you long enough to consider that their deaths and Voldemort's defeat meant the secret didn't need to be a secret any longer. I never should have let you spend those seven years in Azkaban. I didn't think enough about it until I read about your escape. And I was stupid enough not to tell anyone, even though I could have saved you." She was crying again, the pesky tears running down now-familiar trails.

"Shh, love," he consoled her, wiping her tears away with his thumb as he braced a hand against her cheek. "I know. Don't kill yourself about it. It's over. I know I told you not to tell anyone. I don't know if anyone would have believed you anyway. I'm really not sure why you kept it so secret, but I know I can trust you with any secret I have now," he tried to joke. Meghan's half-hearted laugh was garbled in her still-plentiful tears. He caressed her cheek lovingly. "Don't you worry one little bit." He took her face in both of his hands and kissed her gently on the lips.

She stopped crying, although the already-shed tears wet his cheek anyway. She smiled into his familiar lips as they deepened the kiss. This was the man she loved. She knew it. He knew it. The only thing that mattered to each was the other.

They broke the sweet kiss reluctantly. Meghan's long-fingered hands were stroking Sirius's familiar features, not noticing that he did the same to her. They kissed again, heatedly and with unconcealed passion. When they pulled back, Meghan was panting. She'd missed him, his kisses and his cuddles, his loving her.

"Have you thought about this meeting?" Sirius asked her.

"Yes, of course. All the time. Why?" Meghan replied as he took her hand in his possessively.

"I thought about seeing you again every single day for the past seven and a half years. The only reason the dementors couldn't take the thought away from me was because I was firmly convinced it would never happen." Meghan pulled him toward her for another kiss, impulsively.

He pulled back after a few seconds. "I just want to look at you. I lost every memory I had of you in Azkaban. I was only left with the memories about—" his voice cracked painfully. Meghan, who had been the first one to deal with Sirius's memories of his abusive childhood first-hand, gave him a hug that was both an apology and consolation. "Don't you ever leave me again," he ordered. Meghan sat ramrod-straight next to him. He looked at her, seeing that she was poised to speak.

"We're married," she told him. "Nothing can separate us, because our spirits are forever one, bonded by love." Sirius smiled at his philosophical wife, pulling her close, kissing her again. "I love you," he murmured when they separated. "So much."

"Did I ever doubt it?" was all she said.

"Take a shower," she ordered. "You're all dirty. Don't dogs ever take baths?" she grumbled out of habit. Sirius smiled wryly. Yes, that was definitely his Meghan.

"Hard to keep up with personal hygiene in Azkaban," he said flippantly. "You know where Moony keeps the scissors around this place?"

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In the guestroom very late that night—or early the next morning, Sirius, with his hair cut, his beard (or semblance of one, wild as it was) shaved, and newly showered, couldn't, for the life of him, get to sleep. His arm was around Meghan's waist, holding her close, but even knowing that his wife was beside him wasn't helping. Ashley was snoring quietly on the floor, but that didn't lull him to sleep, although it was endearing to hear his daughter.

"Meghan?" he asked, something surfacing in his mind.

"Mmm?" she murmured sleepily.

"What's with Hermione and Harry?" When she made a small confused noise, he elaborated. "They're so shy it's painful. In fact, I think the only reason that Harry's opened up to me so easily and quickly is because his mind recognizes me for somewhere. Hermione didn't say more than a dozen words to me all evening."

"Mmm. I know," she agreed with a yawn. "She doesn't say hardly anything to me either. There's only two people she'll talk to at any sort of length."

"Who?"

"Harry, of course, and Kate," she yawned again. "Doesn't say much to either of them, anyway." She snuggled down into the mattress. "Funny. She reminds me of someone I once knew."

"Who?"

"You, summer of 1974. Won't say much except to a few people. Or in your case, one person. I was the only one you talked to at length for about a week." Sirius let out one long, disbelieving breath, shocked. Meghan just snuggled up to him and seemed to once again fall asleep, breathing regular and her eyes closed.

No. That couldn't be it. Never. Not to a sweet little girl like Hermione. Who in their right mind would raise their hand to an eight-year-old that never did anything wrong?

And yet, each and every one of her actions spoke of child abuse. Her reluctance to speak to strangers. The flinching from any positive human touch, just as Moony had said. Her inability to understand and accept the kindness of other adults. He'd recognize it anywhere—because he'd done the same for a week after every school year started. And Harry. Harry was another mystery entirely. He was quiet, silent until either he remembered you or figured you out. Sirius thought he recognized that as well. He had the same reluctance to talk to anyone, the same inability to fathom adults who cared for him, but the entirely different thing was his trust. He had the measure—of these people at least—in a flash, and gave his trust willingly. Hermione was more cautious, and withheld her trust. She took much longer to get someone's measure.

"Sirius, is something wrong?" Meghan asked, uncertain. So she was awake.

"Just thinking, love," he murmured. "You go to sleep now." He pulled his loved wife closer, kissing her hair as she went out like a light.

Kids, you know you can tell us everything was his last thought before his own eyes closed.

BREAK

Kate woke early the next morning, as usual, as Hermione ghosted past her open door. Aww, she's finally beat me, she thought resignedly as she showered and dressed. She hurried to the kitchen, not Apparating as she usually did, only to find petite Hermione already fixing two bowls of cereal with milk. She smiled at Hermione as she brought the cereal to the table. Hermione smiled shyly and took a seat next to Kate.

"Excited about your parents coming back?" Kate asked casually halfway through her bowl. Hermione hesitated a moment.

"Yes," she said finally, carefully, obviously thinking her answer over. "I missed them," she added unconvincingly.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Hermione?" Kate asked tactfully. The girl shook her curly-haired head. "No? Are you sure?" Another brief, almost painful moment of hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am. There's nothing wrong, ma'am." Kate didn't quite believe her, but knew the subject should be left alone as soon as possible.

"You beat me down here today," Kate commented. "I like to flatter myself that it's a little difficult to do. How early were you up?" she asked concernedly. The last thing she needed was for Hermione to make herself sick from lack of sleep.

"Five," she said softly. Kate checked the clock. It was now six-thirty. She appeared to have beaten Kate by an hour—waking up at least. Kate shook her head.

"You, Miss Hermione, are a tad bit crazy," Kate informed her. "I haven't seen five a.m. since last month. I much prefer five-thirty." She pulled out a day planner. "Well, your parents said they'll be back by about nine. Shall we call up Remus's and see if he, Meghan, Ashley, and the mutt are awake yet?"

"I…I wouldn't want to disturb anyone," Hermione teetered. Kate nodded understandingly. They finished breakfast and washed their dishes in silence. Kate wandered through the house, muttering something about cleaning the already-pristine place.

At eight-fifteen, the phone rang. Hermione picked it up. "Grangers' residence. This is Hermione," she said, right into the receiver, just loud enough that whichever person was on the other end would hear her.

"Hermione Rose?" the voice she least wanted to hear said curtly. Hermione replied in assent. "Good. We'll be driving up momentarily. I trust you've behaved well for Miss Bassett?"

"Yes, Dad," she said meekly. Miss Kate was standing behind her. She hoped the woman couldn't hear anything that Dr. Granger was saying. "Well then," he continued, "I see no need to punish you as of yet. But I will be talking to Miss Bassett."

"Yes, sir," she said again. Kate seemed worried. Hermione listened to the words coming from the other end. "I hope, for your sake, that she confirms your story. Otherwise, you've been lying to me."

"I haven't, sir," she started to panic. "I don't lie."

"I should hope not. See that you don't. You know what happens when you lie," said Stephen Granger coolly. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Dad," she said politely, and hung up the phone. Just as she heard it click against the base, she hoped he had hung up first. Hanging up on one's father was a serious offense of impoliteness. She looked at Kate, who asked, "What was your father calling for, Hermione?"

"He and Mum are driving up right now," she said distractedly. "He'll be wanting to talk to you once they get here." I hope he hung up first, she chanted over and over in her head. If he didn't…I'm probably sleeping on my stomach again tonight.

The Drs. Granger sent Hermione to her room immediately after they danced, very carefully, through the ritual family greetings. She dashed upstairs like an arrow shot from a bow.

"Miss Bassett," Stephen Granger greeted Kate curtly, formally. She tried a smile and "Good morning," as she was asked to sit down. "Miss Bassett, might I ask, was Hermione Rose—well- behaved—during our holiday?"

"Oh, she was an angel, Dr. Granger. What do you feed this girl?" she joked. "I need your recipe for some of the other kids I look after. She didn't do anything wrong. Not a toe out of line. I enjoyed looking after her." Kate smiled at the dentists. "If you ever leave again, feel free to give me a call."

"Nothing—unnatural—happened?" Serena asked delicately. Kate shook her head, confused. "Good. She didn't bother you about anything, did she? Stayed out of your way?"

"The only thing she ever asked was to meet her friend at the park. They were both very good when they got together. Not a toe out of line, either one," she repeated.

"Thanks ever so, Miss Bassett," Serena said sweetly with a smile that didn't quite reach her cold brown eyes. Kate winced inwardly, wondering what they were like for Hermione. Stephen paid her, shook her hand, and showed her to the door.

"Tell Hermione I said goodbye, and that she can come visit if she likes," she told the dentist as she left. "We spent a very nice month together." She winked at the stoic man and disappeared around the corner.

"Bassett is altogether too cheerful," he grumbled as he shut the door. "Hermione Rose! Come down here, young lady. We have a few things to discuss."

The girl ghosted into the room. "Yes, sir?" she said courteously. Too courteously for an eight-year-old. "What was it you needed to discuss with me, sir?" Stephen motioned for her to sit down across from where he had taken a seat.

"Tell me, did you intentionally hang up on me this morning?" he asked her reasonably. Very reasonably. Hermione shook her head vehemently. "Well, then, we'll let that slide, since I'm in a lenient mood today. Now, Miss Bassett did say you'd behaved very well for her. There was no, as we say, abnormality. No funny business. Which, I must say, leaves me very confused, young lady. How is it, Hermione, that, with a stranger, you will hold your unnaturalness in? Around us, you appear to have no control whatsoever. Do you think, miss, that we tolerate it any more than strangers do?" Hermione was aching to blurt the truth out, to blurt it all out, but she managed to keep her silence.

"Hermione Rose!" her sweet-faced mother barked. "Answer your father's question." Serena looked sternly at her daughter, who was paling.

"No, sir. I don't think so, sir." Stephen was apparently not satisfied. "Go to your room, young lady, and you are forbidden to come out of your room for the rest of the day. Think about control while you are up there."

"Yes, sir," she said obediently, hurrying from the room and her volatile father. Stephen settled back into his chair and Serena picked a book up off the shelf. All was normal in the Granger household, now that Katherine Bassett had gone home.

No one who knew the Grangers and their little girl would suspect that anything was amiss. The Drs. Granger were back from holiday, reclusive, bookish Hermione was in her room, and no sound came from the house. There was nothing out-of-place about that. A normal, suburban family lived in that house.

BREAK

Why me? Hermione thought late that night. Her father had gone out to visit some friends earlier and come back stone drunk, even though he said it was bad for your teeth. He'd found out that she'd sneaked out of her room for a glass of water. He'd caught her in the middle of the hallway as she headed for the bathroom. He'd dragged her back to her room and started to hit her. She could feel her eye getting puffier. Her ribs ached. Her neck and throat were sore; she wouldn't want to say anything for a few days, until the bruising went down. One of her fingers felt broken. She knew she probably wouldn't be leaving her room for the rest of the week either.

She wasn't sure why her father went from lenient to ruthless of her not using her magic around Kate. She wasn't sure why that meant she needed to starve for a day, and another, and another, and another. There had just been so much to think about, her magic hadn't had the time to do anything. Mr. Lupin hadn't sought out her father to tell him about that shield she'd accidentally created, either. Of course, he wouldn't do that out of fear of her magic, because he had magic as well.

She sat on the floor, flashlight in hand, one of the posters of Mr. Black as a dog—how strange it had been to see him make the transition from animal to human—on her lap. She committed Mr. Lupin's address and phone number to memory. Maybe sometime later, when she wasn't stuck in her room, she could slip out and see how Mrs. Black, Mr. Black, and Mr. Lupin were doing. If she was lucky—which she usually wasn't—maybe Miss Kate would be there too.

Hermione turned off the flashlight and crawled uncomfortably into bed. There's really no one out there who knows about this, or understands. I'm not even sure if it's for my own good anymore. With that last, incoherent thought, she closed her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep, often tossing and turning with nightmares and no one to soothe them.

BREAK

Harry Potter had been sleeping on his stomach for a week. His mistake with the time on the day they'd found his godfather had cost him his back, his ribs, one of his hands, and an eye for a while. He could still feel his Uncle Vernon's vicious strikes and heavy punches. The only thing that kept him from forgetting that he truly had a life and a reason to live it was the thought of his new friend, Hermione, and the motley group of adults he almost considered his family. He had vague memories of all of them, presumably from his early childhood.

The last day of the week, he once again headed for the neighborhood playground. He found Hermione there, as usual. He climbed the dome to meet her. As he drew closer, he could see a fading blue-and-purple bruise around one of her always sad green-hazel eyes, and felt that no more needed to be said.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Hey," she responded. The usual silence was stifling, but both children were reluctant to break their last shield. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the top bar of the ten-foot dome.

"Have you been here often lately?" she asked, a little distantly, coolly.

"No, haven't you?" he replied.

"I've been confined to my room," she answered flatly. "I'm starting to get more than a little hungry," she confessed. Harry looked at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "My dad caught me going for water when he came home drunk." Harry nodded sympathetically.

"Uncle Vernon drinks too," he told her, a little sadly. "He almost killed me…or he tried to, the night I came back late." He wasn't sure why he was telling her all of this. He'd never told anyone. He was afraid to tell anyone.

Little did he know, his friend was thinking the same thing.

Why are you telling him this? Hermione, it's for your own good, a voice said in her head. No, it's not, another voice, a weaker voice, tried to contradict. The stronger first voice overpowered the second one as it chanted its message over and over again in her head.

"Look, Harry, I know it looks bad—" she wondered what her mouth was saying. She never talked like this. "Really bad. But really, it's for my own good. My parents do know what they're doing. They're in charge."

Harry seemed to accept the longest-worded sentence she'd ever said to him. "Have you seen them since?" Both of them knew which "they" he meant. She shook her head slowly, wondering if he'd heard her.

"I've been confined to my room," she repeated.

"Oh, sorry." Silence once again engulfed the duo. Hermione sat there for a quarter of an hour before looking directly at Harry. Her bright green-hazel gaze threw him off-balance in its own intensity. She had been thinking, and had finally arrived at a conclusion. "Harry, can we go and visit Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, and Mrs. Black?" she asked boldly, for once saying what was on her mind openly. Harry was confused for half a minute, until he remembered her carefully executed formality around the four adults they had recently come to know.

"Of course!" he almost shouted. "I've missed them, all of them," he added in a quieter tone. "They—well." Hermione nodded, knowing what he didn't want to verbalize. They really do understand who we are.

"Then let's," she said, suddenly charged up by her involuntary sojourn in the upstairs room. "I need be home by four, though," she added timidly.

"We can tell Remus," Harry suggested. He was already preparing for the imminent drop to the ground. Hermione dropped as well, in unison with her friend, and the children headed for Remus Lupin's house.

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A/N: And we hit the angst again...this story is really awful. I bounce from angsty to humorous like a drunken idiot. Meghan's called in sick today...well, Meghan Black anyway. Meghan Lupin was getting herself written just fine...don't even ask. I'm just going to remind you I appreciate any comments you make, even if I dislike them muchly...they will help me be mad at my writing.

Luv, LysPotter

Also Luv from the absent Meghan