Chapter 8: The Hangover

It was shortly after midnight when Remus heard a loud bang downstairs, followed by horrible groans. Leaping out of bed, he struggled into a pair of pyjama bottoms and ran for the staircase. Tonks followed closely behind. They both then stared down at the disaster below.

The front door had been knocked off two of its three hinges and was hanging terribly askew, letting the chill wind and rain into the foyer. Two shadowy figures – one distinctly larger than the other – filled the void. Remus winced at the acrid stench wafting up the staircase towards them, which only grew worse when one of the shadows stumbled forward. Making sure his mate was safely behind him, Remus raised his wand.

"Lumos."

Tonks' jaw fell open. "Bloody hell."

Sirius lay sprawled on the floor, his clothes littered with strange stains, the largest of which was most definitely vomit. A shell-shocked Hagrid looked up at the pair watching from the stairs.

"Sorry 'bout that! Certainly didn't mean fer that ter happen," he said, pointing at the door. "Don't' know me own strength 'alf the time. But'e had started heavin' again."

Remus flew down the last few steps, hovering over Sirius but not quite wanting to touch him. "Merlin, Hagrid. How long as he been like this?"

"Oh no!" the large man rushed to reassure. "Nowt to fret o'er. It were much worse earlier."

"How is that even possible?" asked a bewildered Tonks.

"Man 'as a wooden leg, if ye ask me. Or he did have, 'til he start'd bein' sick. Never seen the like."

"Has anyone?"

A new voice joined the party. "Cripes, is this for real?"

"'arry!" hollered Hagrid, a broad grin shining out from his face.

Sirius groaned softly.

Harry walked down the long main hallway from the kitchen to join the others standing over Sirius' prone body.

"Hiya, Hagrid. What happened?"

Tonks interjected, "Someone forgot he's not eighteen anymore."

"I'm fiiiiine," wheezed Sirius, his head not moving off the floor.

"W'at ye doin' here, 'arry? I'd 'ave thought you'd be 'ome with young Ginny."

"She had a last-minute practice before the big game on the weekend," Harry explained, talking to Hagrid and Remus but peering at the wreck that used to be his godfather. "I thought I'd see if Hermione wanted to go for a bite; but she was out, Sirius was out, and you two forgot to use a silencing charm again."

Remus smirked while also blushing, which took a fair amount of emotional breadth.

Tonks stared at the pureblood on the floor. "Look at him. There's something not right about a forty-one year-old man getting this pissed."

Bracing his arms against the carpet, Sirius pushed himself up to a sitting position, although still leaning drastically to one side. "I'm… thirty-six, woman. Being dead… doesn't… it doesn't count." He then groaned and leaned fully back against the wall, his hands cradling his head. The movement released a new wave of effluvia from his clothes. Everyone reared back.

"Merlin, Sirius!" Harry groaned. "You reek!"

"Sssshhh!" Remus hissed. "Don't let Hermione hear you!"

"'ermione?" Hagrid's voice boomed around the hallway. "She in tonight? Sirius 'ere thought not. Never really clear on why it matter'd, if ye ask me, but ye never know what a person's likely ter talk 'bout when they've that much firewhisky in 'em."

Tonks knelt down next to her half-conscious cousin, pulling his long hair out of his dirty face, shaking her head sadly as she did so. "What are we going to do with you?" she asked softly.

"Was he with you the whole time, Hagrid?" Remus asked.

"Jus' ta'bout. Found 'im at the Three Broomsticks after Rosmerta sent me an owl that he could use a bit o' company. She's always 'ad a soft spot fer you Marauders, even after all these years. 'pparently, he'd been chattin' for the longest time with Professor Sinistra."

"Aurora?" Remus looked mystified. "What on earth about?"

"Dunno. She were gone by the time I arrived, but ye know Sirius. The man's always chattin' up the witches, an' Professor Sinistra's quite the lady. I know you know her, o' course, from when you taught there, but Sirius 'ere made it soun' like he'd never seen 'er 'fore tonight. Tell ye the truth, he was a bit put out to be chattin' ter me instead o' her. Said I wasn't as pretty. Cheeky beggar."

Remus and Tonks locked eyes, speaking volumes silently.

"He wouldn't," she breathed. "Not with everything else happening."

"Wouldn't he?"

"What else is happening?" asked Harry.

"Oh, nothing," Tonks said slowly. "He's, ah, he's just been a bit moody lately."

Harry laughed. "You've known him your entire life and only now you've decided he's moody?"

"It's been a bit more than usual for the past day or so," Tonks muttered. "But Aurora? Really?"

"Let's not borrow trouble until she comes knocking on our door," Remus counselled.

Harry, looking terribly like his father, grinned. "Can we place bets that she does?"

"And here I thought you loved your godfather."

"I do," he shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I can't also win a few galleons on him being a disaster with witches."

Tonks winked at him. Sirius then started singing badly off-key to himself. She frowned and took it upon herself to kick him quiet.

"Ow!"

"You deserve it."

"I do n—" Sirius broke off, his face suddenly a sickly grey-green and his eyes getting wider.

Panicked, Tonks jumped back. "Are you going to—"

"Well," announced Hagrid, his eyes quickly taking in Sirius' ashen face. "'f you folks are set ter take o'er wi' Sirius, I'll be headin' back. I've already scourgified meself enough for one night. 'tween you and me, Remus, it's a bloomin' miracle he didn't throw up all o'er me new bike. Though it might 'ave been the flyin' that made 'im sick in the first place." Shrugging his large shoulders, he added, "I'll take care o' the walk on me way out. I doubt the rain's heavy 'nough to clear it on its own."

"Thank you for bringing him home, Hagrid," Remus said, walking the half-giant out. He charmed the broken door's hinges along the way. "We'll take it from here."

"Good nigh', then, Harry, Tonks! Good luck, Remus."

As he closed the now-repaired door, Remus could hear another grumbled "Scourgify" from the gamekeeper as he cleared whatever puddle of sick Sirius had left on the walk and strode his way back to the wet street. The werewolf shut his eyes and ran a hand through his tawney-grey hair.

Tonks and Harry, meanwhile, were trying to get Sirius up to the second-floor bath as quickly as possible. If his gagging was any indication, they needed to move faster. When Remus joined them, they let him lead them way, putting Sirius' arm around his shoulders and half-heaving him to the toilet.

"Please let me kill him now," Tonks said to Remus as Sirius grabbed the edges of the loo and stuck his head in. The retching sound echoed around them.

"We agreed – only Hermione is allowed to do that these days," Remus reminded her, moving to hold Sirius' hair out of the way.

Harry, who had been pouring water from the sink into a transfigured toothbrush-now-glass, looked over at them. "Hermione? Why would she want to kill Sirius?"

"No reason."

"No," Remus agreed, "nothing serious. Just… Sirius."

The man in question heaved again, his entire body straining with his head in the toilet.

"You owe me for this, Pads," Remus muttered, screwing up his face in disgust even as he patted his friend's back.

"Right," Harry announced, turning smartly to the door. "Um, let me know if you need a hand with him tomorrow."

"Not staying now?" asked Tonks pertly.

"Don't think so. Ginny probably is wondering where I am. You'll be all right?"

Remus nodded. "Shouldn't be anything a good sober-up potion or two can't cure."

"Is now the time to tell you that we're out of those?" Tonks asked sweetly.

"Merlin."

"Hugs to Ginny, Harry!" Tonks said over her shoulder.

"Sure. Yup. I'll, um… I'll come by later tomorrow, see what's what."

"You do that, Harry," Remus answered. "I'm sure that by then Sirius will be very glad of the company."

"And the human shield," Tonks muttered.

"Stop it."

Harry was already on his way down the stairs.

"Remus. This is appalling."

Tonks wiped a hand across her face and glared once more at her cousin, who was half-asleep on the toilet seat.

The twosome had been minding a very sick Sirius for nearly three-quarters of an hour. When he had started retching again, Remus had wisely silencio-ed the room. He knew that Hermione was home – he had heard her come in after he and Tonks were in bed. Given that she hadn't yet made an appearance, he presumed she had slept through all of this. Miracle of miracles.

For the past half-hour, he had been force-feeding Sirius pints of water while Tonks told him the most disgusting things she could think of so that he would want to be sick and get the last bits of the alcohol out of his system. It had been a trick he, James, and Sirius had used on each other a thousand years ago when they had gone drinking and ended the night prostrate on the floor with no sober-up potions in sight.

His Dora had been a natural with the vitriol she had poured into Sirius' ears. Prongs would have been pleased and proud that his successor on such a night as this was so good at torturing Padfoot.

Personally, Remus looked forward to the lecture he'd be able to give Sirius in the morning. A good berating in the kitchen, especially when Padfoot knew he couldn't defend himself, would feel immensely satisfying. Part of him longed to ask what mad combination of liquor his old friend had managed to pour down his throat to make himself this ill.

Or maybe Hagrid had been right. Maybe it had been the flying.

"Love? Did you hear me?"

"Yes – and yes." He looked down to make sure Sirius was well enough out of it not to notice anything being said around him. "But," he added smugly, "it's better than you think."

Eyeing the shattered man currently embracing the loo, Tonks sounded dubious. "I'm thinking a lot right now."

"He kissed her."

As predicted, her eyes flew open. "He never!"

"He did. Told me so himself. It's what drove him out to drink in the afternoon. That, and her off with Sir Colin."

Tonks gave her mate a long look. "I did not do this, Remus."

"Of course, you didn't," he agreed. "But 'Lucky Hermione' might have been a bit premature."

"Maybe. When he pulls his finger out, then we'll see. He might surprise us yet. After all, you're the one who always goes on about how he's capable of great things."

A voice floated up from the floor. "I am."

"What?"

Sirius opened one grey, bloodshot eye, feebly attempting to focus on his cousin's face. "I am entirely capable."

"Of drooling on the floor," she said. "Yes, I can see that."

"Shrew."

"Don't even, cousin dear," she threatened with a smile, taking a step closer to his hunched-over form.

The gagging started again.

"Oh no," she sighed, before tapping her wand against the glass Harry had transfigured for them earlier. "Auguamenti. There – that should keep refilling itself for as long as you need."

Remus took it from her hands, waiting until Sirius came up for air before administering any of it.

"Can I leave this to you?" she asked with a yawn.

"Of course. Wait up for me?"

Tonks revelled in the fact that, even now, her wolf could give her deliciously naughty goosebumps. "Only if you shower first."

His eyes flared. "Understood."

They smiled longingly at each other, each feeling the weight of the early hour layered over their desperate need to be back in bed together.

"I… will never… d-drink… again," said a shaky voice near the tiles.

Remus smirked. "Sure you won't stay?"

Tonks shook her head. "Goodnight, luv."

"Dora?" he asked just as she was about to close the door behind her. She paused. "I adore you," he whispered.

Tonks tried not to smile, but a small one squeaked through. "Marauders. Pah! My dad's side of the family would use another word: 'Lightweights'."

She blew him a kiss and shut the door softly, leaving the last two Marauders alone with the ancient plumbing.

Hermione had been lying awake in bed for what felt like hours.

She and Colin had agreed to meet again early in the week to begin his sketches and her brainstorming for their new quest together. It was exciting to have someone like him in her life – and it didn't hurt that he was handsome and talented and… genuine?

A large part of her was still taken aback at how easily Colin had said he was interested in her. No subtle signals she probably had misunderstood or long looks across a room that might mean something, but perhaps not. No, straight up: he liked her. But beyond saying that, Colin hadn't 'made a move' or tried anything untoward for the rest of the night. There was a delicious tenson in the air between them, but, rather tantalizingly, they had left it at that.

At the end of the evening, he had kissed her hand and walked her to an apparition point just behind the hotel, and then said good night.

A total gentleman, she mused, unlike her housemate and… well, what was Sirius to her now? He was certainly more than housemate, but less than a lover. He wasn't her boyfriend – that sounded ridiculous – and they weren't dating, although his offer for Saturday night was very much still on the table.

He was a man literally back from the dead and the focus of her professional research: her obsession for the past six months.

He was one of the most notorious wizards in the world, even though his pardon had made international headlines.

He was a pureblood, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, making him one of those most influential people in their world.

He was a legend.

He was her best friend's godfather who had snogged her to the point of making her moan out loud.

He was the reason why she couldn't sleep.

But Sirius hadn't been there when she had arrived home. No one was. Tonks and Remus' door was firmly shut, while the door opposite hers on the third floor was ajar, empty, and dark.

Had he gone off with Harry? Hermione knew that Ginny liked Harry around to work off any nervous energy before a big game, but that wasn't for two days yet, which gave Sirius plenty of leeway to go gallivanting off with his godson that night.

Given his mood when she had left, she had half expected to find him prowling the house, snapping at anyone who crossed him before thanking them graciously for any proffered cups of tea.

The man was such a mystery.

Feeling a bit done in, Hermione had climbed to her room, intending to go to bed straight away. Beauty sleep was bound to be important now that Colin would be capturing her face forever with oils; plus, she could still feel a bit of the whiskey running through her veins.

An hour and half later, having tossed from one edge of her bed to the other, she finally gave up and turned on the light. She didn't feel like talking much unless Sirius showed up again, so she stayed where she was rather than wandering down to the kitchen or the library. Putting on her retro-Muggle headphones that were charmed at this hour to play soft, sleep-inducing music, she lay on top of her sheets and looked around at the yellowy walls of her room. Then her thoughts carried her away, although not, in fact, that far from her bed.

Hermione had had lovers before. Only three – often she wasn't sure if that was good or bad – and each had been very different. Viktor had been kind and attentive, but she knew from the moment he was first inside her that she had been too young, too mentally unready for that kind of intensity with another person. It was odd for her to think that about herself, since she usually put mental acuity at the top of her self-awareness, but it had only taken seconds for it to become unavoidably apparent.

In the end, she had decided that losing her virginity to Viktor Krum that spring afternoon a week before the final event of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had been like getting a new library card. Maybe someday she would return to the stacks to find something that she really enjoyed, but for the time-being, she was simply glad to be a new member and have the proof of it, and that was that.

They had parted as intimate friends, Viktor always hoping that something more long-term might develop someday, and Hermione always being too kind to tell him that would never happen.

Ronald had been… Ronald. Their friendship had always been building to something volcanic, some seismic shift, and that final blow they had shared against Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts had been epically satisfying. The kiss that had followed had been, too. But that, sadly, had been the physical highlight of their time together. Ron had been shocked and personally insulted that she wasn't a virgin when they finally got their clothes off – even though he hadn't been one either.

The double standard had rubbed Hermione the wrong way.

Then there was the fact that she found it rather difficult to get past the graphic images in her head of Ron and Lavender having sex, particularly after he had let it slip that the twosome had shagged in the Gryffindor Common Room on several occasions during sixth year. Thinking of her boyfriend pumping away inside another girl was not a turn-on, and especially not when the people involved were Ron and Lavender. It wasn't even proper jealousy – Hermione just didn't like to think that she might have sat in the exact same spot where they had come.

Her own time as Ron's girlfriend had started on that grey day in early May and it had been over by mid-July. After a few weeks apart, she and Ron had salvaged their friendship and, happily, become confidants of a different sort. Their brief time of physically knowing each other had given them coded insight ever since. Her relationship with Ron was now pointedly different from what she had with Harry. Ron was her second opinion, her dose of reality, and her check-in with life outside of the Ministry's halls and Grimmauld Place's walls.

Harry, meanwhile, was her brother in all but name. Unfortunately, she knew far more about his sex life than she would have liked because Ginny had no filter, but she and Harry never directly discussed anything sexual, or even romantic. It was mutually unspoken that, when and if she ever had anyone serious in mind, Harry would pull the wizard aside to have a chat, probably something terribly old-fashioned from his side – which she would object to strongly – to make sure the man's intentions were honourable and that he would keep Hermione happy.

A few months after Ron there had been a brief but quite physically fulfilling time with a boy she had grown up with, someone she had known for years before her letter from Hogwarts had ever arrived. He had lived around the corner from her parents' house and was someone she often ran into on those rare occasions in the summer and at Christmas when she was home. After things had fizzled out with Ron, she had turned to this boy who had no idea about horcruxes or battle scars or Death Eaters, a sweet person who made her feel cherished for a few timeless early autumn days and nights before she had moved into Grimmauld Place permanently. He had taught her body to spark in a way it never had before, how to own her own pleasure and not be ashamed to seek it out. But his world wasn't hers, and Hermione had ended things before feelings on either side could get too entangled. She needed a wizard, not a Muggle.

There had been times in the last year and half when she had reached out to Viktor, needing the physical and mental release of being with someone who wanted her, someone she trusted. But a dirty weekend away now and then wasn't anything real. Being with Viktor – always far away from Grimmauld Place, for reasons she hadn't wanted to examine too closely at the time – was her mental equivalent of renewing her sexual library privileges. Her card duly stamped and dated, she could stop worrying too much about needing a man in her bed until more time had passed.

All of this was fine on one level, but Hermione knew she had entered her twenties without the love of her life firmly in place beside her, unlike Harry and Gin or Remus and Tonks, and with no real urge to shag her way through half of Eastern Europe like Ron. At least, she presumed Ronald was out having a good time whenever Charlie gave him a day or two away from the dragons.

Now twenty-one, Hermione thought back on the boys she had bedded and honestly couldn't see what a lot of the fuss was about. None of them had made her see stars. She'd had stronger orgasms from bringing herself to climax. For the past half year or so, she hadn't been bothered to try to connect with Viktor again. It wasn't just the effort of organizing a minibreak – her body wasn't interested either. Viktor, bless him, hadn't changed in all the years she had known him. He was still a boy.

But Sirius, he was something more – a kind of man she had never known. He was supple in his movements around her, always prowling with a beastly grace, giving her heart-stopping smiles along with deeply wicked winks and smirks. They had been so at odds when she had been younger – at such opposite poles that she wouldn't have even really said they were friends back then. Friendly, perhaps, but as a teenager, she had always felt more drawn to Lupin than to Sirius.

She hadn't been ready for him. Not then.

That had changed after his return. Hermione's physical awareness of him after that first night in the kitchen had been absolute. He would walk by, innocently touching her arm in passing, and she would suddenly be switched on. It never seemed to affect him, whereas she felt like she was at a child's party again, playing with balloons and having the hairs on her arms and the back of her head rise every time he came near her.

It was electric, from her side at least. Her body followed wherever Sirius went.

His naughty habit of intentionally coming out of the bath wearing only a towel certainly had done nothing to crush that energy spike she felt just from being near him.

Sirius would always be Harry's godfather, but for the past several months, she had gotten to know him on his own terms, as his own person. She liked him. His efforts to get her to think about him outside of her research on the Veil hadn't gone astray. Whether because of those attempts or simply growing up and being ready to tangle with men rather than boys, he was under her skin now.

It was what made her fights with him these days feel more tortured, more painful than their silly squabbles all those years ago.

For Hermione's birthday in September, he'd had a surprise for her. He had said it like the black devil he was, knowing it would make her blush and rise to him. It had turned out to be the first time she had gripped him between her thighs, feeling the warmth of him cradled so close to her own heat.

He had taken her for a ride on that damned contraption of his. He had been so sure she would love the bike. She had been nearly as confident that she wouldn't, but he had challenged her, one Gryffindor to another, and she couldn't back down. It wasn't in her to give into him like that.

The rush of the bike taking off into the sky had reminded her immediately of that first ride she had had with him and Harry on Buckbeak. That time, Sirius had sat behind her. He also hadn't smelled the best in his life, which she of course hadn't held against him, but it also hadn't lent itself to creating the sexiest of teenage memories.

This time, when he had asked her to ride with him on his motorcycle for her birthday, it had been a different feeling to begin with – all charm and bravado on his part, and real nerve on her own, knowing how much she hated flying. But he had phrased it all so sweetly, she hadn't the heart to turn him down.

"Come on, love," he had whispered. "What do you have to lose?"

"My lunch?"

He had laughed, drawing her eyes to the strong columns of his neck as his head tilted back and a genuine smile lit up his face. "If I'm wanting you on that bike with me even after that particularly choice comment, what does that tell you?" There had been just a whisper of a seductive purr at the end of his words, sealing the deal.

So, she had acquiesced, sitting awkwardly behind him after he had mounted his ride. "Closer, angel," he had said, taking her tentative hands off his shoulders and wrapping them tightly around his chest, her breasts pressed up firmly against the contours of his back. She had tried to keep a bit of space between them, but Sirius had swiftly put one hand on the curve of her hip and pulled her forward so that, suddenly, he was snug between her thighs. The crotch of her jeans had pressed ever-so-intimately against his backside, the middle seam unexpectedly rubbing her clit.

She had gasped, and then hoped to fury he hadn't noticed.

If the roles were reversed, she thought, she would have had his cock against her bum. She made herself smile secretly against his shoulder, wondering how it would have been to feel him getting hard along the curve of her ass. That had already been enough get her wet, but the shocking vibration of the bike coming to life beneath them had been a jolt to her senses, making her pelvis rock even harder against him.

"Oh my," he had teased. Embarrassed, she had tried to squirm her way off the bike. "Hush," he'd said. "Just wait." One of his beautiful, shapely hands had then squeezed both of hers against his chest, calming her down, holding her in place.

"This'll be fun," he had promised – and it had been.

Since that ride, the memory of being pressed up so tightly against Sirius had been the thing to push her over the edge whenever she touched herself at night. She refused to remember such things when others were around but, privately, when she was alone, she couldn't deny that thinking of Sirius finished her off, every time.

Her fingers began to toy with the waist band of her pyjama bottoms now, wondering if a good orgasm would be the thing to help her to sleep. Then, for some reason, she felt something wasn't right. Something was happening.

Slinking off the bed, she opened the door, the light spilling out once again into the hallway, just as it had done the night before. Only, instead of Sirius leaning across her door, she saw Remus half-hauling a highly dishevelled and incoherent version of him up the stairs.

"Hermione," Lupin said solemnly, nodding in her direction.

"Remus. Can I—can I help?"

"Get the door."

"Of course," she said, scurrying across the landing and making sure the door to Sirius' rooms was wide open for the two men to pass through.

"Shall I…?"

"No," Remus said, puffing a bit as Sirius moved less and less on his own steam. "Wait here."

Biting her lip, she nodded. It only took a few minutes for Remus to return. He looked exhausted, deep circles under his eyes.

Hermione had been pacing outside on the landing and looked up sharply when she saw him come out. "Do I want to know?" she asked.

"Do you?"

"I'm not sure."

"I say this with the greatest of affection for my dearest friend, but there are times when Padfoot is a complete ass. Tonight is no exception."

"Really?"

Remus nodded. "Hagrid had to bring him home. On a flying motorbike. In which he nearly threw up."

Hermione winced and stared down at her feet. "Oh, lord."

"Then he was sick on the walk outside. Tonks and I have been dealing with him for ages. It's been a bit of a night." He stretched his muscles and gave her a soft smile. "How are you? Did we wake you?"

"No, I just… couldn't sleep."

Remus' face suddenly looked very solemn. "Be careful with him, Hermione."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please. Be careful with him."

Things suddenly began to align in her head. Sirius this morning – their kiss – their fight – her leaving – his slamming of the door as she left. She took a deep breath, but the anger still flared within. "Was he alone?"

"Hagrid was with him," Remus answered. "And Madam Rosmerta."

"Anyone else?"

Her former professor tilted his head to the side. "Where were you this evening?"

"Out."

He nodded. "So was he."

"Remus Lupin. Are you being shirty with me?"

"No," he said. "I'm being circumspect. There's a vast difference."

"Wh—"

"Please, Hermione. I don't want to get involved. You two… just need to deal with whatever this is."

"Remus. Nothing is going on."

"Really?" His bold stare skewered her, peeling back layers and defences she hadn't readied in time. Just the one word, but it was enough to make her hang her head.

"Is he going to be all right?" she finally asked.

"Hangovers are pretty painful – and mortifying – at his age. My age. Our age. When you're older," he finally finished.

A flash of inspiration made her spin on her bare feet. "Wait here," she said, before disappearing into her room. It only took her a few seconds to find it in her sock drawer. Remus looked doubly stunned, first at how quickly she had returned and then because of the phial she put in his hand.

"Sober-up?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded. "Ginny can be quite the handful some nights when we're out," she explained.

"Brilliant witch. He's always said it. I always knew it." He brought her to him with one hand cradling her hair and kissed her forehead quickly before dashing back to Sirius.

It took a bit longer this time, but Hermione waited. She listened a bit at the door, but Sirius' suite of rooms was so large, his actual bed was too far away for eavesdropping. An extendable ear would have been very handy, but she had none with her. Instead, she went to lean against the wall outside her room, her fingers brushing against the ancient plaster that marked the place where Sirius had pushed up against her welcoming body, breathing against her neck and tickling her skin with his scruffy jaw.

Remus looked much less haunted as he shut the bedroom door a final time. "Well. He'd like to see you." Holding up a hand, he stopped her from rushing in. "Not now – in the morning. You wouldn't want to see him like this. He needs to wash." His sensitive wolf's nose wrinkled in distaste, leaving Hermione to imagine how bad the last few hours had been.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Remus looked back at her. "Remember what I said?"

"To be careful with him?"

"Meet me halfway. I'll be fine with you simply trying not to kill him."

Hermione smirked. "I promise, he has an official reprieve until noon." Remus had already moved down the stairs when she got his attention again. "Remus?" she asked, catching his eye. "What about him being careful with me?"

The werewolf paused, thinking for a moment, and then shrugged deeply. "I've done my part for now. I passed on the message, and now I'm going to bed. Harry will be by in the morning. If you want to know Sirius' intentions, you can get Harry to be your second and he can go talk to Sirius."

She swallowed audibly at the thought of Harry's reaction to any of this. "Then again, maybe not."

Bone tired, Remus managed only a half-smile before continuing to walk down to his bed. "Good night, Hermione. Try to get some sleep?"

"Yes, I will. Good night."

Back in her room with the light off, Hermione lay on her bed. Harry as her second would be a disaster. Much better just to talk to Sirius herself in the morning, once they were both in better head space.

But, she thought as sleep finally claimed her, what exactly had Sirius done to make Remus think she'd want to kill him?