Hermione slipped out in the middle of the night.
It wasn't the first time she'd done so; often disappearing whilst he and Remus were out walking or whenever those who would notice were looking the other way. Sirius had been moderately offended until he'd cornered her skulking through the bushes under his window two years ago and verbally berated her on the darkened porch until she explained it was easier that way – avoided unnecessary goodbyes.
And really, he couldn't fault her logic. She was in and out of London every other week – a round of hugs and weighty goodbyes each time would definitely get, well...he said annoying, she said taxing. So she left without a word. To be honest, Sirius rather liked that about her, how it was so very much in her character. It made sense, saved time, and she did it all without asking for approval, believing her own judgment to be best.
He hadn't seen her pack her bags, but then again she did always travel light and he'd spent a great deal of yesterday tinkering with his motorbike – an escape as well as a way to dispel change-related frustrations – until dinner when the trio had retired to the den. Routine.
He'd just decided to floo Harry for a game of Quidditch., when a dark owl flew in through the open window – a large parcel clutched in its talons. It looked a bit foreign, so Sirius wasn't surprised when it accepted his offer to rest and hopped onto the kitchen table.
Unsurprisingly, the package was for Hermione. What Sirius didn't expect, however, was for the return address to be Romania; for the sender to be Charlie Weasley.
She'd only been back in London for four days, what on earth was so pressing that he would have owled her immediately after her departure – not even a letter, but a package. He was no stickler for logic like Moony, or even Hermione, but he knew that this made no sense. It was odd – and if it had been earlier in the morning he'd have called it bizarre.
He hadn't seen Charlie for a long while, as the second oldest Weasley was hard-pressed to leave his dragon sanctuary, but he knew the man's general character and had been there when he was born – which, when he thought about it made him feel about as ancient as old Dumbledore.. He knew Charlie to be pleasant, but fairly reclusive. Molly often complained she'd never see grandkids from him and wondered when he'd write to her of new acquaintances rather than dragons.
Hermione hadn't mentioned Charlie beyond telling Harry of her departure and Ginny's letter, so he was forced to wonder what had compelled the reserved dragon tamer, who never wrote more than one letter home each year, to break with his normal routine and owl Hermione not four days after they'd parted ways. If Sirius had learned one thing since his return to the living, it was that all people were – inherently – creatures of habit.
It was easier for a man to hold to the patterns and actions that were familiar to him, than to step outside his comfort level every second of the day – that's why routines existed. Sirius could learn a great deal about a person by taking careful note of their patterns, but that was a surface reading only. It was when someone acted in a way completely contrary to their nature, when they deviated from their habits that he got a glimpse of the full depth of their character.
And what a deviation this was.
In fact, he could only come up with one explanation that would account for it.
He routed through the kitchen drawers until he found an old paring knife, testing the sharpness of the blade against his finger. Leaning back against the counter, he pulled off the parcel's twine wrappings and made a quick, clean slice across the seam. The thin brown paper crinkled as he parted it, and then a pile of red silk slipped into his hands.
How interesting...