Author's Note: Sorry this has taken so long. I'm in the middle of relocating to another country, so writing this has had to take a bit of a back seat. Hopefully I'll be able to update a bit more regularly once I'm settled. In the meantime, thanks for your patience, and your reviews! You've all been so nice!

I've also been getting a lot of questions regarding the pairings. I know this isn't the answer you want to hear, but the truth is I really don't know. I could say there will be a pairing now, but this story has had a habit of changing all by itself and just dragging my typing fingers along for the ride. I have very little idea where the relationships will go. The only ones I'm certain about are Ron/Luna and Remus/Tonks. In any event, the other pairings – whoever they may be – will only be subtle; this isn't a romance. Sorry. I like romances, I just can't write 'em.

IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ The parts of the story between lines like these aren't flashbacks per se. They are just everyone getting so involved in hearing or telling the story that they all feel like they're back there, seeing it all again. Or for the first time. Thank you.
Disclaimer: If you recognise it from somewhere else, it probably isn't mine.

War Stories

Chapter 5 Civilians Die In Wars, Too

Sirius awoke at about one o'clock the following afternoon and for a moment, didn't know where he was. Then memory of the previous day came flooding back. This was the Black House, Number Twelve Grimmould Place, though nothing at all like the Black House he grew up in.

The bedroom he had chosen yesterday had been clean and bright, but rather empty. The house elves, Dobby and Winky, had promised that they would prepare this room for his use last night, but Sirius had been so tired and preoccupied when he had walked in here, that he hadn't noticed any change.

Sitting up and looking around now, he was astonished at the difference. He sat in a four poster bed, hung with crimson drapes (which he had not bothered to close), while a closet and chest of drawers stood beside a door that he knew led to a small bathroom. A desk and leather chair were arranged before the large window, to the right of the window was a bookcase, and next to that, a fireplace. All in all, the room was warm and comfortable, yet masculine, and reminded him greatly of the room he had been given at the Potters' after he had run away from this house as a teenager.

Sirius was lost in his memories of happier times with James for a moment, before he gave himself a slight shake and climbed out of the bed. He investigated the closet and drawers first and found clothes that he recognised as his own from before. Surprised but glad that Harry had kept them so long, he headed towards the bathroom. On the inside surface of the door was a full length mirror and Sirius stopped dead when he caught sight of his own reflection in it.

He stared at himself, taking in his shabby black clothes, his shaggy black hair, his gaunt face and haunted eyes…his overall bedraggled appearance. It wasn't that he was shocked at what he saw; he had looked much the same the last time he had happened to look in a mirror. No, what had him transfixed was the realisation that he hadn't changed one bit in what everyone else would say was five years.

Five years! Sirius thought in disbelief and the first stirrings of anger. He leaned in closer to the mirror, narrowing his eyes. Everything around him was different. The world had continued forward while he had been left behind. And I didn't even know it was happening! This thought overwhelmed him for a second, until it was followed by another. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sirius' gaze grew distant as this new line of reasoning continued. The world is different, but not worse. They told me they had won the war, so Hell, the world might even be better. It isn't as though my life was that great five years ago; I was a fugitive, confined to a house I hated, having to sit around uselessly while others fought the man who killed my two best friends. This might be the chance I hoped for. A chance at a real life.

Sirius went over all of the information about what he had missed, that he had collected so far. The war was over, which had to mean that Voldemort was gone for good. He wasn't sure yet how many people he knew, besides those in this house, had survived, but he thought that Ron or Ginny would have said something if the Weasleys had suffered very many losses…and come to think of it, Harry had mentioned working with the twins. He wondered about the other Order of the Phoenix members, though Harry had told him that Emmeline Vance had been murdered in the summer after Sirius' own 'death'. Amelia Bones was another casualty. She hadn't been in the Order, but she had definitely been an asset to the Light side. He remembered Ron saying that Kingsley Shacklebolt was now Head of Magical Law Enforcement…who else's name had he heard? McGonagall! Hermione had said she had written to Professor McGonagall, telling her Sirius was back.

That young guy who had been waiting when they had arrived back through the Veil, Collin Creevey, had told him that he had been exonerated – albeit posthumously – by the Ministry. So, he was free to go wherever he wanted now without fear of arrest.

His eyes focused again on his reflection and in that moment, he made his choice; he was going to go out into this new, different, Voldemort-free world and make of his life something better…but (his eyes ran over his reflection again) he wasn't going anywhere looking like this. With a new determination Sirius headed into the bathroom.

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Forty minutes later, Sirius stood again before the mirror, shaved, showered and scrubbed almost raw, dressed in neat black robes and trying to decide what to do with his hair.

It was now clean, but still shaggy. In the end, he used his wand to just trim it a little, making him look carelessly handsome, as apposed to homelessly unkempt. He gave himself one of his old rakish smiles – which, had they seen it, would have reminded Harry and Ron horrifyingly of Lockhart – and then laughed at himself, shaking his head at his own foolishness. Still chuckling, he crossed the room and made his way downstairs to see who was still in the house.

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Harry and Ron were sitting in the kitchen. Harry was reading the Daily Prophet, which lay flat on the table top, while Ron was leaning back in his chair, with his feet on the table and holding the Quibbler in front of him, upside-down. Harry glanced up at his best mate.

"You do know Hermione will tear your ears off if she sees you doing that, don't you?" he said casually.

"What, the feet on the table, or the upside-down Quibbler?" Ron asked, without looking at him.

"Both," Harry smiled.

"Well," Ron shrugged. "Hermione's not here, is she? Besides, I'm doing research. She can't get mad at me for doing research."

Thinking that this aught to be good, Harry sat back in his chair and looked fully at Ron. "Research, huh?"

"Yeah," Ron glanced up. "Luna has to be seeing something interesting, or she wouldn't sit there for hours reading this thing upside-down." He gestured with the magazine in his hands. "I'm trying to figure out what it is."

"Riiight," Harry answered, trying not to laugh. "So…found anything?"

"Not yet," Ron said, frowning at the page. "Though, if you turn it this way and kinda squint a little…" He rotated the magazine and squinted with his good eye. "No, never mind. It was just a crease in the page." He turned the Quibbler upside-down again.

"Ronald, what on earth do you think you're doing?!"

Ron hurriedly dropped his feet, and all four legs of his chair to the floor, before looking up at Hermione, who was standing in the doorway.

He looked guilty for only an instant, then his face smoothed into an expression of innocent studiousness, and he answered, "Research."

Harry snorted with laughter, while Hermione rolled her eyes and asked him, "Do I even want to know?"

"Prob'ly not." He grinned.

Hermione smiled. She went over to the stove and began making herself a cup of tea. Harry went back to reading the Prophet.

"Well, I give up!" Ron announced after a few minutes, closing the magazine and putting it on the table. "Maybe it's a depth perception thing."

"Yeah, and no one could ever accuse you of being deep," Harry nodded solemnly.

"Exactly," Ron said, as though Harry had just proven his point. Then, "Wait…Hey!"

Hermione snorted while taking a sip of tea, as Ron threw the Quibbler at Harry. A bark-like laugh came from the doorway.

Harry's eyes lit up as he heard the sound that, until yesterday, he'd thought he would never hear again. The trio turned to look at Sirius and all three of their jaws dropped in surprise.

Ron recovered first, saying with a grin, "Well, don't you look spiffy!"

Sirius grinned a little self-consciously as the others chuckled. He came to sit beside Harry at the table.

"Tea, Sirius?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

She brought him a cup and sat down across from him.

"So, is this everyone?" Sirius asked.

Hermione nodded. "Neville, Ginny and Luna had to work today. Tonks and Professor Lupin-"

She was cut off by Ron, who rolled his eye. "Why don't you just call him Remus? You're not a student anymore."

"We've been over this, Ronald." Hermione sighed impatiently at having to explain again. "Professors help to shape their students into the people that they will eventually become. The position of Professor is therefore extremely important, and those holding that position deserve the respect of everyone, not just students."

Ron looked as though he wanted to continue to argue the point, but at a death glare from Harry, who had heard this exchange between his two best friends many times since they had left school, he merely 'humph'ed and sat back in his chair.

Hermione turned back to a grinning Sirius. "As I was saying, Tonks and Professor" (Ron 'humph'ed again, and she glared at him) "Lupin went home a little while ago, to freshen up a bit. Tonks told me that she went on Maternity Leave from the Ministry last week, and it's the summer break, so neither of them have to worry about missing work. We didn't know how long you would sleep for, but they said that they would be back at about three o'clock." She looked at Harry and Ron. "They also said not to start the story again without them. It seems that they have been curious about everything we did after we left school, too."

"I thought you'd filled him in after Hogwarts," Ron said to Harry.

"Well," Harry shrugged a little. "None of us were really in the best shape after Hogwarts, and a lot of other stuff was happening. I just kind of gave him an overview."

Ron was frowning a little, but Hermione gave Harry an understanding look. "Yes," she said. "I remember how difficult those times were to talk about back then."

Harry gave her a grateful smile, then turned to explain some of what they were talking about to Sirius. "When we said Hogwarts just now, we were talking about the Battle of Hogwarts. It was the final battle of the war." Harry smiled slightly, though his eyes had darkened a little. "Not to spoil the ending for you, but our side won. Still, we all got pretty beaten up during the fight," Harry looked at Ron. "Not really in any state for long story telling."

Ron gave a rueful smile and nodded in agreement.

Sirius was drinking in all of this new information. It made him feel oddly better to know that Remus and Tonks were going to be hearing a lot of this for the first time as well. He just opened his mouth to seek further clarification, when the kitchen grate behind him blazed into green flame.

"Harry, Ron? Ah, there you are. I just received the most extraordinary letter from Hermione. Do you…"

Professor McGonagall's head had appeared in the heart of the fire. She had seen Harry and Ron sitting at the table and begun to speak, but had trailed off when Sirius had turned and she saw his face.

Her eyes widened. "Now that is extraordinary," she all but whispered.

"We're right there with ya," Harry smiled.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione got up and approached the fireplace. "How are you?"

"Oh I'm well, Hermione." She smiled at her former student before her eyes returned to Sirius. "This has certainly done my heart a world of good. And how are you, Mister Black?"

Sirius grinned. "Just fine, Minerva. Though I'm a bit impatient to hear the rest of what all I missed. We were only about a year into the story when we called a halt last night, and we're waiting for Moony and Tonks before we get back into it."

McGonagall raised one eyebrow and looked speculatively at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "A year in, you say? That would put you at about the point when these three left for their mysterious mission for Dumbledore, am I right?"

"It isn't mysterious." Ron said. "Harry explained about it to you the same time he did Remus-"

"Overview," Harry interjected.

"Oh, right," Ron subsided.

"Well," said McGonagall, looking even more speculative. "I've had my questions regarding that particular time, myself." She paused for a second, then seemed to come to a decision. "Alright, just let me take care of a few things here, then I'll be right over. This is one story I wouldn't miss for all the gold in Gringotts." Her head had disappeared from the fire before anyone could say another word.

"This is starting to feel like story-time at the library," Hermione smiled.

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Three o'clock had rolled around and Remus and Tonks appeared once again at the front door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, only to be told that they had to wait for Professor McGonagall to arrive before they could start the story. They didn't have long to wait. McGonagall walked in through the kitchen grate about ten minutes later.

Everyone settled themselves comfortably around the parlour, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and McGonagall looking expectantly at the trio, ready to listen to the tale that they had each waited varying amounts of time to hear.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had known that this part of the narrative would be as difficult as to retell as Dumbledore's murder had been, if not more so. This being the case, they had instinctively chosen seats as close to each other as possible; Hermione sat in the middle of one of the couches, with Harry and Ron on either side of her. It was Ron, perhaps the least invested in this portion of the tale, who spoke first.

"Well," he began. "when I told Harry that me and Hermione would be with him every step of the way, I sort of imagined us being exactly that; you know, following him into his uncle's car, riding with him to Privet Drive, the whole shot. But then, on the train, we got to talking to Neville, not about horcruxes, just about how we weren't coming back for seventh year, even if the school didn't close.

"We sort of knew, even then, that things would get worse before they got better, so Harry asked Neville to reassemble the DA, if Hogwarts reopened, and if any members came back. We told him to recruit new members too, if he could find anyone willing and trustworthy enough. Hermione gave him that parchment that we all signed so the newbees could sign it. Harry told him everything he'd need to know to run the meetings, and we promised to visit the school to talk to them at the start of the year, and any time after that if he needed us to. Neville could fill you in on the details of the conversation if you're really interested.

"At any rate, he asked me and Hermione if we were going to see our families again, before we left. We ended up deciding to each spend the night with our family, explain a few things to them – nothing specific, just the general going to war situation – then meet at Harry's house next day."

Harry nodded. "Just as well really. I doubt Vernon would have let either of you in the car; he could barely stand to have me in it," he said ruefully. "Anyway, the platform at Kings Cross was insane when we arrived. There was security everywhere and hysterical parents all over. We were swamped by the Weasleys almost before we'd stepped off the train. Then you guys," he looked at Remus and Tonks. "Along with Kingsley came to escort us through the barrier. Hermione said she was going to find her parents, then we lost her in the crowd. I was kind of swept along to Vernon's car. You know, I'm still surprised that he actually showed up. I was sure that they would ignore the owl the school sent out, to tell the parents we were all coming back early…" Harry stopped at the sight of Professor McGonagall smiling in grim satisfaction. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Your aunt and uncle did ignore the owl that the school sent out," she told him. "They couldn't ignore the howler that I sent out. It was particularly well written, even if I do say so myself."

Harry considered asking what exactly McGonagall had written, but decided to let it pass.

"Right," he said, then continued the story. "Well, we drove back to Privet Drive, escorted by four Ministry cars. I suppose they didn't want their precious Chosen One ambushed on the ride home." His voice had taken on a bitter edge and he glanced at Hermione.

She glanced back at Harry, then at Ron, and a look of understanding seemed to pass between the trio.

"I couldn't find my parents at Kings Cross," Hermione took up the tale, speaking for the first time. "I waited as long as I could, but I knew that standing about in public wasn't the best idea. After a little while I found a taxi…"

The taxi pulled into Hermione's street and she saw it; the Dark Mark, glowing green in the early night sky, hanging ominously over her own house. Her breath catching, Hermione looked over at the driver.

He was looking up the street towards her house, but it was obvious, from the complete absence of panic, dread, or even confusion, in his expression, that the Dark Mark's presence, and all the horrific possibilities that it represented, was entirely lost on him.

"You know," she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. "I think I might have accidentally given you the wrong house number…" She gave him the number of the house five houses further down the street.

They pulled up and the driver helped her to take her trunk and Crookshanks' carrier out of the back. She paid the fare and thanked him, then watched as the taxi disappeared around the corner. As soon as it was out of sight, she collapsed to her knees beside her trunk, her body heaving with dry sobs.

It took a few seconds for her mind to move passed her fear and panic, but finally she regained control of herself and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her – from their perspective – inexplicable behaviour. She couldn't see anyone, so she dragged herself back to her feet, and faced her luggage.

"Crookshanks," she said, crouching down in front of the carrier. "I…I'm going to send you to Harry's, alright?" Crookshanks seemed to frown in disagreement and meowed loudly, pushing his head against the carrier door. "I'll be right behind you, Sweetie," she tried to reassure herself, as much as the distressed cat. "I'll be right there, I just need to…" Hermione looked back at the Dark Mark. "I have to know."

Ignoring Crookshanks' increasingly frantic attempts to escape the carrier, Hermione picked it up and placed it on top of her trunk. With a swift glance around to make sure nobody was watching, she tapped the top of the carrier with her wand, making both it, and the trunk, disappear. Suddenly feeling very alone, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then lifted her wand and cast a disillusionment charm on herself. Sticking close to the deep shadows, Hermione approached her home.

If she had been a muggle, unable to see the Dark Mark or unaware of it's meaning, Hermione would have seen nothing to cause her alarm. The house and front garden were undamaged, and the living room light even appeared to be on. As she got closer though, she noticed that the front door was slightly ajar.

Wand at the ready, she quietly made her way to the living room window; she wanted an idea of what she would find inside, before she went for the door. She had to firmly suppress a gasp at the sight that met her eyes. A black robed and masked figure lay facedown on the living room floor, in a pool of blood. A few feet to the left of him, Hermione spotted her late Grandfather's old German pistol – a souvenir from his army days during World War II. It seemed that her father, who kept the relict in careful repair as a hobby, had put up quite a fight. That thought gave her courage a small boost as she finally moved towards the door.

Through the small gap, she could see that the foyer was dimly lit from the living room doorway. Not certain that it was safe to touch the door with her bare hand, she used her sleeve covered elbow to slowly nudge it further open. Hermione's eyes widened in terror, and she almost retched at the thick, metallic smell in the air. The walls and floor shone darkly with spatters and smears of still-drying blood, but what drew her horrified gaze, were the figures of her parents as they hung, bound at the wrists and suspended in mid-air, a few inches below the ceiling. Both of their clothes were shredded and blood-soaked, and their exposed flesh was covered in gaping wounds, burns and bruises.

Hermione couldn't prevent the small whimper that escaped her and the sound attracted attention. Her parents' heads moved very slightly, turning a little to face the door, causing her to take an impulsive step forward. She felt the shift in the air immediately, and froze. A small, coldly logical and miraculously still functioning, corner of Hermione's mind, provided the information that her movement forward had disturbed a Committo Laqueus spell – the magical equivalent of a tripwire. Later, she could only attribute her survival to a combination of instinct and accidental magic.

Hermione stood immobile, as an explosion ripped through the house from somewhere further inside. She watched as a wall of green flame and debris engulfed her parents' bodies from behind. The instant before the wall would hit her too, a shield erupted from her still poised wand tip. She was protected from the flames, but the force of the blast hit the shield and threw her backwards, out of the house. She hit the ground hard, some twenty feet away, and rolled a few feet further until she lay motionless, half on her stomach and half on her side, near the edge of her front lawn. The last thought she had, before the sight of the inferno that had been her home faded from view, was a single, yet powerful, wish to be somewhere safe.

There was an appalled silence in the parlour of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius was predictably shocked at this latest revelation. Remus, Tonks, and Professor McGonagall had, of cause, been informed of the attack at the Granger house, but at the time, Hermione had been too distraught to give anything more than a basic rundown of events. They were, therefore, aghast at this much more detailed recounting. Harry and Ron, having heard the full version of that terrible night before, just held their friend's hands in sympathy and support.

Hermione shook her head slightly, her eyes regaining the focus that they had lost during the retelling. She took in the horrified faces of her audience and immediately felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to inflict that much graphic detail on you all. I just got lost in the past, I guess…" She stopped, bowing her head.

"No." McGonagall rose from her seat and came to kneel before Hermione. She reached out and gently placed her hand against her former student's cheek, urging the younger woman to meet her eyes. "Of cause, I always suspected that there was more to the attack than you ever told us. We were all so busy at the time and you were so upset, that I just let it go. I expect it would have done you a world of good to get it off your chest though. I should have followed it up. I should have encouraged you to talk to me about it. I'm very sorry, my dear."

Hermione nodded. McGonagall, knowing she was forgiven, rose from her knees with Ron's help and headed back to her seat. She looked back at the trio in time to see Hermione turning to Harry, silently asking him to take over the story. He nodded, squeezing her hand comfortingly, then turned to the others.

"Vernon and I got back to Privet Drive without incident. The Ministry cars left once we were inside. Petunia was laying out dinner when we walked in. Dudley was still at Smeltings." Seeing the confused faces of everyone but Ron and Hermione, Harry explained. "His school." The others nodded in understanding. "I thought that while I had them both there, I'd explain a few things…"

Vernon and Petunia seemed determined to ignore Harry's presence. Neither had said a word to him so far and only communicated that he was to do something (put his trunk away, sit down, and so on) by giving him very pointed glares. The three reluctant relatives now sat silently around the kitchen table. Harry, thinking that there was no point in putting off this discussion, regardless of how little he wanted to have it, spoke.

"Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia?" With what looked like great reluctance, they turned their eyes towards their nephew. "I don't know how much the letter from the school explained about why I'm back here early…" He paused, allowing time for them to say…well, anything. They didn't.

"Well, put simply, the school was attacked by Death Eaters." At the sight of their blank faces, he elaborated. "The servants of Voldemort." Then, in case it was still unclear; "The man who killed my parents."

At their continued silence, and wondering vaguely if they had both been hit with silencios, Harry cleared his throat and tried again.

"Look, I won't be here long," he said, thinking that this at least would get a reaction. He wasn't wrong.

"Good." Vernon snapped. "You shouldn't be here now. It isn't our problem if that freaky school of yours gets what's coming to it-"

Harry had raised his hand hoping his uncle would be quiet again, and was somewhat shocked when it worked. He shook it off, and went on with what he had to say.

"I'll only be here for ten days. I'm not absolutely sure how long I have to be here for the blood protection to do its thing, but I think ten days should do it. After that, I'm gone, and we'll never have to see each other again." Vernon looked as though he wanted to say something, but a glance from Petunia seemed to change his mind. "Now, a word of warning; the blood protection that has kept me safe while in this house, has also kept you safe. The bad guys – Voldemort and his Death Eaters – they know that it's going to stop working on my seventeenth birthday."

Thinking that Petunia would be more likely to take his words seriously, Harry looked dead into her eyes. "They'll be coming. As soon as that protection is gone, they'll come. I would strongly advise that none of you be here when they do."

This time, Vernon would not be silenced. "How dare you?!" he thundered. "How dare you suggest we leave our home?! You brought this down on us – we should pitch you out and call the police!"

"Oh, well, sure. Call the police. I should've thought of that," Harry said. "So, what would you tell 'em?"

Vernon's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Petunia's hand on his arm finally made him subside back into his chair. She looked at her sister's child with no discernable human emotion in her face.

"What do you suggest we do?" she asked flatly.

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "You're safe here until my birthday, but Death Eaters might be positioned around the area before that. I suggest that you make sure you have full coverage insurance on the house and contents, then pack your bags. Take yourselves, Dudley, and any trinkets around here that you can't bare to part with on an extended vacation abroad. It would probably be best if you leave about the same time I do. Don't tell anyone where you're going, and use fake names when you get there. Hedwig," (again, blank faces) "my owl, will know how to find you, so I'll let you know when it's safe to return. Don't hold your breath, though; it might be a long time coming."

Vernon just sat there looking shell-shocked, but Petunia's expression had turned calculating, as though she was already working through the logistics of the Dursleys' overseas migration in her mind, making Harry wonder if perhaps she had already known that this might be necessary.

"One last thing," Harry said, bringing their attention back to him. "Two of my friends from school will be arriving here tomorrow, and will be staying until I leave. Both of them are of-age in the wizarding world, so both are allowed to do magic." He looked directly at Vernon. "And neither will take kindly to any insults, to themselves, or to me." His uncle began to look belligerent again, so Harry went on in a tone that brooked no argument. "This isn't open for discussion. They'll be here in the morning. Just stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours."

Petunia opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a thump and a series loud meows coming from the backyard.

"What the…" Harry muttered, getting to his feet and pulling out his wand. "Stay here," he told the Dursleys, then walked cautiously towards the back door, which had a window.

He pulled the curtain a little aside and scanned the yard for signs of danger. All he saw through the gloom were two large shadows on the ground outside. Harry frowned as the smaller of the shadows rocked from side to side and the continuous meows increased in volume. Harry reached over to his right and flipped a switch, turning on the back porch light. As soon as he saw what the shadows were, he flung open the door and ran outside.

"Crookshanks?!" He dropped to his knees beside the carrier, which appeared to have fallen off of the trunk and landed on its side on the ground. "Crookshanks, what are you doing here?! Where's Hermione?!" Harry asked, though he knew he wouldn't be answered.

He righted the carrier and opened to door. Crookshanks jumped out and shook himself, then turned to look at Harry. Harry had the oddest feeling that the huge cat was trying to tell him something, but before he could figure out what it was, he heard the familiar popping sound that accompanied apperation. In an instant, he turned towards the noise, wand at the ready, only to drop it as Crookshanks pounced, landing heavily on his right shoulder. The cat then darted off towards a crumpled heap lying a on the ground where Harry had been pointing his wand.

Harry squinted into the darkness, and upon recognising that unmistakeable head of bushy brown hair, scrambled over.

"Hermione? Hermione!" He reached her side and pulled the hair back from her face.

"Harry?" she blinked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

Harry laughed a little, relieved that she was alive. "I should be asking you that. You're laying in my backyard…" His eyes ran over her torn clothes; the cuts and newly forming bruises, the blood. "Hermione, what happened to you?"

He looked back into her face and saw it slowly fall. She squeezed her eyes shut and then brought up her hand to cover them, shaking her head and beginning to tremble.

"Shhh…" Harry was starting to get really scared now. He stroked her hair gently and wondered what on earth he should do. He finally decided to go with his instincts, as he usually did. "C'mon Hermione," he said softly. "You can't stay there all night. Do you think you can walk?"

Hermione didn't reply. She removed her hand from her face and placed it, along with her other, on the ground, pushing herself up. Harry carefully helped her until she stood, though leaning heavily against him. With a sublime disregard for the laws regarding underage magic, Harry pointed his wand at the trunk and now empty carrier, and levitated them inside the house, leading Hermione slowly behind them.

As they moved inside and passed Vernon and Petunia, who were still standing where he had told them to, Harry leaned towards them. In a tone low enough so that Hermione wouldn't hear, he said, "One harsh word out of either of you and Voldemort will be the least of your worries."

Finally they made it to the living room couch. In the better light, she looked even worse than she had outside; covered in dirt, grime and blood, with bits of wood and grass in her hair. She looked at him where he knelt in front of her.

"I'm alright," she said in a raspy voice. "But…my parents…it was a trap…they're gone, the house is gone…fire…" She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Crookshanks jumped up onto the couch then set one tentative paw on Hermione's knee. She wrapped her arms around the huge cat, pulled him fully onto her lap and buried her face in his thick ginger fur as he purred loudly.

Harry felt his stomach drop. Hermione's parents were dead. It had been a trap for her and it looked as though she had only just gotten away. How had this happened? He had thought that the families of muggle-borns were protected. Then he remembered his own Ministry escort.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely. He reached out and laid a hand gently on her bowed head.

"Harry?"

The sound of his given name in his aunt's voice brought his attention swinging around to her. She stood just behind him, her face still devoid of emotion, but holding out a thick blanket.

"She needs to be kept warm, in case she goes into shock," Petunia told him.

With a nod, Harry took the blanket and shook it out, then wrapped it around his friend.

"Listen, Hermione," he said softly and she lifted her head. "I'm going to write to Ron, ok? Get him, and probably his dad over here. Are you sure you're not seriously hurt? You do have blood on you."

"It's nothing," she told him in a low tone.

"Right," he said doubtfully. "Well, I'll go get Hedwig. I'll be right back, ok?"

She nodded, then lowered her face back to Crookshanks fur.

Sighing, Harry got to his feet again, and quickly headed up to his room. He didn't want to leave Hermione alone with his relatives for longer than absolutely necessary, so he just grabbed writing materials and Hedwig's cage, and hurried back downstairs.

Hermione was just as he'd left her, while Petunia now stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. Vernon was nowhere to be seen. Harry set Hedwig's cage on the coffee table and opened the door, then knelt again on the floor and wrote a short and carefully uninformative note to Ron:

Ron,

Something's happened and you and your Dad need to get over to my place, right now. Bring your stuff; I think I'll need you to stay here. Sorry to cut your family time short.

Harry.

Hedwig, who seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, had hopped out of her cage while he was writing and now stood ready to have the note attached to her leg.

"I really need you to use whatever clever owl tricks you know, Hedwig, and get this to Ron as quick as you can," he told her.

She hooted softly in reply, then flew out of the door, which, amazingly enough, was being held open for her by Petunia. Harry made a mental note to figure out why his aunt was being so helpful and co-operative all of a sudden, before he moved to sit with Hermione on the couch to wait for Ron.

Thoughtful - instead of horrified - faces now filled the Black House parlour.

"So, Hermione wanted to be somewhere safe, then apperated to Privet Drive?" Sirius asked after a moment.

"I didn't mean to," Hermione explained. "I knew I'd be safe with Harry, so I guess my magic took me to him. I don't think it mattered where he was at the time. Although, come to think of it, if he had been in the house, instead of out in the backyard, there might have been a problem due to the anti-apperation wards."

Ron shrugged. "Not that it matters. It wasn't the first time luck saved one of us, and it definitely wasn't the last." Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. "Anyway, I had gone back to the Burrow with my family," Ron said, picking up the story. "We'd had dinner and I had that talk with Fred and George about who they sell their products to. They hadn't known that Malfoy had used their stuff for the attack. When I told them, Fred got kind of defensive about it, but I could tell that they were both really shaken. George told me later that they were going to start including a 14 day waiting period and background check on a lot of their inventory.

"After that, I got Mum and Dad to sit down with me at the kitchen table, and I was somewhere in the middle of explaining about us not going back to school, when Hedwig arrived…"

Ron was cut off mid-argument by a loud tapping at the window. His father, very security-conscious these days, pulled his wand immediately, motioning for his wife and son to do the same. Ron looked out the window.

"Dad, it's just Hedwig-"

Arthur stopped him with a raised hand and insisted that they needed to be sure. He went to another window, pointed his wand through it, and murmured a spell under his breath. The yard outside lit up, bright as day for a minute, then slowly dimmed, giving Arthur time to scan for attackers attempting to hide in the darkness.

Ron stared at his father. "That was wicked, Dad. You have to teach that to us before we leave."

Arthur smiled a little, saying, "You can let Hedwig in now if you want."

"Right," Ron said, moving to the window. He knew that Harry wouldn't be writing to him now unless it was really important. They were going to see each other the next day after all.

Hedwig flew off as soon as the note was removed from her leg, obviously not expecting to have to carry back a reply. This made Ron frown as he opened the note.

"Dad, we have to go," he said, as soon as he'd finished reading.

"What, right now?" Arthur's eyes widened. "I thought you said you three weren't leaving until after the wedding?" He and Molly were now following Ron as he ran up the stairs to his room.

"No," Ron said, as he hauled his still packed trunk up onto his bed. He handed the letter to his parents, then started pulling all of the things he wouldn't be needing (school robes and such) out of his trunk and replacing them with things from around the room that he wanted to take with him.

Molly and Arthur had both read the note from Harry. "It must be important if he asked specifically for your father," Molly said. "Maybe he needs to get in touch with the Ministry?" she wondered aloud.

"Yeah, maybe," Ron answered, shutting his trunk, having unpacked and repacked it in record time. He picked up it and turned to face his parents. "He said we're needed there now. Can we apperate?"

"You can side-along apperate with me and I'll send the trunks ahead of us," Arthur answered.

The three of them made their way back downstairs and out to the front of the house. Ron put down his trunk and Arthur used his wand to send it to Privet Drive, as Hermione had done with hers.

Molly seemed to understand that Ron was leaving, and that nothing she said or did would stop him. The last thing she wanted was for him to put himself in danger, but, as the family clock that she now carried around with her everywhere told her, with the war raging, they were all in danger already. She pulled him into a tight hug, which – in a measure of how serious the situation was – he returned, then spoke to her husband.

"Let me know what's happened as soon as you can," she said.

"I will." He hugged her briefly, before stepping back and telling Ron to take hold of his arm.

They arrived an uncomfortable moment later, beside Ron's trunk in the Dursley's backyard. Ron picked up the trunk and they headed for the back door, which was opened before they got there by Harry's aunt Petunia.

"They're in the living room," she told them coldly. "I'm sure you remember where that is." She closed the door behind them, then disappeared down the hall.

Ron was confused by the word 'they're'. He wondered who else was here, but wasted no time trying to figure it out. Instead, he and his Dad headed straight for the living room.

Ron was interrupted by the parlour door opening to admit Neville. Having become very engrossed in the story, McGonagall frowned impatiently at him, momentarily forgetting that she was a guest in his home. The newcomer visibly shrank back from her obvious annoyance, and the trio exchanged amused glances at the mutual thought that Neville had stood firm in the face of Voldemort's armies, but still could not hold his ground against the disapproval of his former Head of House.

"Sorry if I'm intruding," he said. "I just got in from work."

Harry looked at the mantle clock. "Wow, is that the time?" He looked back at their three guests. "Would you all like to stay for dinner? The others should be home soon and we can talk more after?" he invited.

Ginny and Luna came home while Harry was making dinner and they all sat down to eat in the slightly more formal, but still just as comfortable, setting of the dining room.

Sirius looked around the table and thought that he would ask a few general questions that he had been wondering about. He just hoped he wouldn't unknowingly poke any sore spots.

"So, when did the war end?" he said.

"About two years ago now, though it seems longer." Remus answered. "The world has changed a lot in a short time."

"Yeah, so I figured." Sirius said. "About that…I'm allowed out of the house now, aren't I? I mean, everyone knows I'm innocent now?"

"Yes," Tonks replied. As an Auror, she had been in the best position of any of them, to know what had happened at the Ministry after Sirius' 'death'. "The Ministry accepted that they'd made a mistake after the skirmish in the Department of Mysteries. But they had to accept that they'd made a lot of mistakes that night, so the issue of your innocence kind of got buried under everything else. Truth is, they tried not to make a big deal about it. If you hadn't died-" (Hermione cleared her throat pointedly) "Er…disappeared, they would have been forced to make a big announcement, and provide compensation and all that. As it was, you were gone and they really didn't want to draw attention to another embarrassment."

"Harry wouldn't have that though," Ginny smiled at her former boyfriend. "Sixth year was so crazy – everything was falling apart – and we never really knew the details about what the Ministry had done regarding your false imprisonment. Once Harry got to talking to people outside school about you, he found out that they had tried to sweep it under the rug."

Ron nodded. "Obviously things didn't get any less crazy for us after we left school, but during Hogwarts…the Battle of, that is…we captured Pettigrew, and Harry made sure he got a public trial afterwards. Everything came out."

"So, yeah," Tonks concluded. "You're free to go wherever you want. Although, we should maybe put an announcement in the papers or something…you know, so people don't see you and think that Inferi are walking among us again."

The others sniggered. The war was far enough behind them now, that they could joke about it in this way.

"In a slight change of subject," Sirius continued his questioning. "Where are Dobby and Winky? I thought you said that they live here, but I've barely seen them."

"They do live here," Luna said. "But they don't work here really. They would be bored here since we clean up after ourselves, mostly" (a pointed look at Ron, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat) "and generally speaking, we aren't here that much anyway. We all have our jobs. Dobby and Winky still work at the school. The poor Castle took a terrible beating during the battle and the repairs are still underway."

"But it's been two years," Sirius frowned. "Shouldn't any repairs be completed by now?"

"Such extensive magical damage," McGonagall explained. "To a building already heavily infused with magic…" The professor shook her head. "Most of the labour must be done by hand, while the base spell work is repaired. I had no idea until now, how much effort building the castle from scratch must have taken for the Founders."

Remus nodded. "In any event, the school is open again, but only certain areas are in use while the rest is being restored."

"And even then," Luna added. "Only time will settle her in again after the upheaval. Just like the rest of us"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, while the others nodded in agreement.

hphphp

Due to the lengthy conversation – helping to fill in blanks for Sirius, but mostly just general chatter – the group finished dinner later than they anticipated. It was decided that their guests would return to their homes and come back at ten o'clock the next morning. The trio would continue the story then, and since the next day was Saturday, Luna, Ginny and Neville would be there to help. Once McGonagall, Remus and Tonks were gone, everyone – still suffering to varying degrees from the previous late night – said their goodnights and headed to bed.

A/N: So, there it is. This chapter was turning into a bit of a monster, so I'm sorry if the end seems a little abrupt.

Committo Laqueus Intruder trap, according to the InterTran translation web site. Unfortunately, the site wouldn't translate the word, 'Booby'

As always, I'd love to hear what you think.