Chapter 9: The Plan

Sirius felt fully in control when he knocked on Hermione's door the next morning.

At least, he thought, if he said that to himself often enough, it was bound to be true eventually.

Shortly after Remus had left his rooms, Sirius' head no longer felt like it wanted to bounce off his shoulders. According to Moony's departing words, Hermione's magical sober-up potion was the reason why. Amazing what that woman had at hand in her bedroom – the same bedroom he was now trying to have open to him, like Ali Baba's cave.

When Hermione appeared, he nearly swallowed his tongue.

She looked amazing. Her alabaster skin was fresh and pearly from her morning shower, the black lacy bodysuit she was wearing beneath her office trousers only adding to her lustre. It clung to every curve of her torso, its subtle boning drawing his eyes from her ribs to her breasts and back again. Legs that looked longer than ever were lengthened even further by smart black heels that he knew instinctively were impressive but also comfortable. Weeks ago, he had overheard her sharing a new charm she'd discovered for just that purpose with Tonks, trying to convince his accident-prone cousin that she, too, could wear heels with a bit of magic woven into them to make sure they never felt like torture devices. Smart woman, he had thought at the time.

Sexy librarian goddess, he now silently intoned.

"Sirius? Are you all right?"

Catching himself, he smiled broadly. "That I am. It's thanks to you, I hear."

Her mouth quirked. "It seems you had quite the night."

"I'm sorry for that. If I woke you or—"

"You didn't," said Hermione. "I hadn't been able to sleep, and you were rather quiet by the time I saw you. If you're going to apologise to anyone, I think it's more Tonks and Remus you should be speaking to."

"Oh, I know. Moony is making a list right now of all the things I'll have to do to make this up to him."

She leaned against her door. "And Tonks?"

"Don't even start," he groaned. "I'd say I'm a dead man walking, but that's a bit too on the nose." They both chuckled briefly, and then the moment lengthened out, shifting into outright awkwardness. Sirius didn't want that to happen, but he also knew based on his behaviour last night, awkwardness was the least of his current problems.

"So," he began. "You're off to work?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'll head in now and then be able to come home early. Tomorrow will be a big day, so I want to relax a bit if I can."

"Will it be?" Sirius couldn't help pressing the issue. "Any reason in particular?"

"Are you asking me to dinner again?" she asked, her face unreadable.

He took a moment to lean against the other side of the doorframe, hoping it made him look casually elegant rather than that he needed the support. Gods, but she messed with his head. Even when she didn't know she was doing it, one look from this sexy swot could buckle him.

"Do you want me to ask you again? I think I should," he said before she could answer, "since I basically barked it at you yesterday." He cringed inwardly. Brilliant word choice, Padfoot, he thought. She already thinks you're a dog, why not just hammer it home a bit more?

"Yes."

"Yes, you want me to ask you again or yes you'll come to dinner?"

"Yes. I will have dinner with you tomorrow."

A lightness filled him, his slate eyes warming at once. "Really?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Well…"

"Do you think I let just any older man maul me in a dark hallway and then think nothing of it?"

That had headed south rather fast.

"Maul? Older?"

The minx dared to raise an eyebrow as her only answer.

Sirius glared pointedly. "I want the record to show that I did not and never would maul you. I might have been dead for a while, but I still have more skill than that."

Hermione began to laugh, confusing him even more. "Oh, Sirius! You should see your face!" She bent forward as she giggled, then righted herself, leaning against the frame with her hands behind her back. The move made her breasts thrust out a bit more towards him, but it was such an innocent gesture, he didn't think she knew what she had done – how much she had just ratcheted up his already apparent arousal.

"I'm used to that viper downstairs torturing me," he muttered. "She's just like all the women in our family that way, but I didn't know I'd have to watch myself around you, too. I take it I'm still paying for yesterday?"

"Or the day before," she offered.

Sirius took a deep breath, letting the air rush in through his nostrils and then exhaling slowly so that any biting quips were buried deep down. He wanted to snog this woman, not have her slam the door on his fingers.

Starting again, he bowed slightly towards her. "Thank you for letting me know your decision. I'm… glad."

"Me, too."

"How was Redwine?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Extremely civilised and courtly. As expected."

"But not as handsome as me, hmmm?" He winked at her, wanting to make her blush, to make the colour suffuse her skin from her breastbone up to her cheeks. To know he had that effect on her, still.

"That," Hermione said primly, "is a highly debatable point."

"Really?"

She didn't say anything, but her deep gaze hit him between wind and water. That invisible string he often thought of existing between them tightened sharply, making him want to claim her as his own, manners and courtliness and other men bedamned.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

Hermione's nose wrinkled. "Do you really want to know about this?"

"Not particularly," he admitted. "Here's a better question: where do you want me to take you tomorrow?"

"Surprise me."

Sirius couldn't stop a deep chuckle. "That is a dangerous statement, love."

"What was it you said?" she asked, looking down at the floor between them. "Live a little? Do the unexpected?"

"My own words coming back to haunt me." Neither one moved from their position, but he could have sworn the space between them had just shrunk. When he spoke, his voice was soft, thrumming deeply without any forethought. "Hermione. I…"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For saying yes."

Her mouth quirked to one side as she giggled through her nose. "Do you realise this is the most civilised conversation we've had together in three days?"

"Do you realise I can still remember what you taste like?"

Now she did flush. He could feel himself getting harder as her lips fell apart and her pupils dilated as she stared at him. Sirius knew she was hypnotising him with those beautiful amber eyes. It took him a moment to shake himself loose from her spell.

"So, tomorrow night?"

Her tongue came out to wet her lips. He had to grip the wooden frame behind him tightly to stop himself from reaching out to rub his thumb across her mouth, desperately wanting to feel that dampness for himself.

"Yes," she breathed. "Unless… you're free tonight?"

Cold water dumped over him, killing every thrill that had been building inside him. Tonight. Gods. What had he done?

"Oh."

"What is it?" she asked.

He delayed as much as he could, his eyes darting around at everything on the landing other than her face.

"Sirius? Can you take me out tonight?"

Closing his eyes, he hung his head, forced to tell her the truth. "I have a date."

Coward that he was, he kept his eyes shut as she inhaled sharply. The frostiness reached through his blindness, chilling him exactly where he had been growing warm.

"Circe's pants. I knew you moved fast, Sirius, but this must be a record, even for you. And," she hurried to add, "if it isn't, I don't want to know."

He failed when he tried to speak. Language deserted him, every vowel and consonant he had ever learned suddenly gone as her disappointment broke over him. Sighing deeply, he stared at the floor, knowing that invisible cord between them had fallen away, slack and useless.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice was very brittle when she replied. "That you have a date? Don't be."

That wasn't right. That wasn't what she was supposed to say when she found out what he had done – who he had talked to.

Did she know?

Did she care?

"Why shouldn't I be sorry?" When Sirius looked at her, his nervy outrage clashed with her icy demeanour.

"I might have one, too. You're not the only one here with options."

He breathed sharply out. "This – " He pointed between them. "This one-upmanship. You know how this usually ends, yes?"

Hermione Granger had never really smirked at him before. Now he knew what it felt like, to have someone's lips take on that cutting angled sneer. "You wish."

"That I do, love," he swore, deadly serious. "Absolutely."

"Go on," she said. "Have your date. Have a wonderful time – and save your flirting with me for tomorrow." She continued on before he could say anything in return. "Really, you should think about some food before another night on the town. If Remus and Tonks aren't willing to cook for you, I'm sure Harry might be. Remus said he'd be by later today."

Sirius bit his lips, assessing the situation. "So, I go on my date, you go on yours, and then we meet tomorrow like civilised magical folk and get on with it?"

Hermione shrugged, totally nonchalant. "I can always do more research instead."

He leaned back, banging his head against the wood. "Fucking hell."

Giving him a last bemused smile, she disappeared momentarily and then came out of her room again with her bag and a black blazer over her shoulders. He missed the lace.

"Have a good night tonight, Sirius."

"Right. You, too."

She was just at the top of the stairs when he stopped her. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

He knew he had puzzled her from the sharp tilt of her head as she sized him up. "Do you really want to?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Fine."

Striding up to her, he stepped close. The breath she drew in as he approached made him act on instinct. Instead of zeroing in on her mouth as he had thought he would, he softly took her hand. Making sure he had her attention, he bent over it, marking her skin with a soft kiss that was restrained, yet full of promise.

"Oh." Her voice was breathy and low.

Still not letting go, he smiled and kissed her hand again. "I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

Hermione began to move slowly away, but he held on, keeping her fingers in his grasp until she had taken two steps further down the staircase and was forced to break the contact.

They stared at each other the entire time that she walked down to the landing between the floors and then even longer as she neared Remus and Tonks' room, her chin tilting up to see him watching her until she finally stepped out of his sight.

Sirius stayed at the railing, not able to see her, but still not letting her go, until another long minute had passed, and he heard the front door close gently behind her.

Why had she said yes?

Hermione wondered at herself the entire way to the Ministry, past the dozens of fireplace entrances, along the dark reflecting tiles to the lift, and through the tunnels to her actual office. Her space in the Department of Mysteries was not like the rest of the black art deco design: she had intentionally made it as light and airy as possible inside her office, charming one of the walls to show a waterfall in the woods, the white cascades tumbling past evergreens and a granite rockface that she felt she recognized, even if she had never seen it in real life. The woodsy wilderness was combined with stacks of books and parchment, some shelves standing two or three manuscripts deep.

At times like this, when she had things to mull over, she liked to retreat into her workspace and lose herself among the things she found the most reassuring. Her desk was quite bare, apart from a tan leather blotter, a classic green desk lamp, and a picture frame. She had changed the actual photograph several times over the past two years. It currently held a snap from her birthday this past September. Luna had been feeling artistic, insisting on black and white shot – a throwback of sorts to the photographs that had framed the board in the Room of Requirement in the days of Dumbledore's Army.

It had been late in the evening, her party well into its final swing. They were all there – Remus and Tonks with their arms wrapped around each other, the handsome werewolf resting his chin on his mate's shoulder, whispering delicately into her ear. Depending on what he was saying, Tonks either looked enormously pleased or deliciously shocked. Today it was definitely the latter. Harry spun Ginny in a circle nearby, peals of silent laughter ringing from them, while Ron and Hagrid and Neville looked very proud and puffed up, which was quite hilarious since Hagrid puffed up nearly took him out of the frame entirely, forcing him to bend his knees every few moments to stay in the picture. Luna was looking up at a corner of the photograph, mesmerised by something completely invisible; Ron called it her 'talking to Godric' face. Kingsley and Professor McGonagall were discussing something intensely in the background, McGonagall occasionally casting an eye towards the camera and either waving at it or waving it away depending on her mood. Mr and Mrs Weasley were looking at Harry and Gin, Mr Weasley squeezing his wife's shoulders while she reached up now and then to pat at one of his hands.

Today, however, Hermione picked up the frame to peer more closely at Molly Weasley. The older witch's eyes often were on her own daughter, but Hemione now saw that, every so often, she darted a glance to the side, a most peculiar look on her face.

Sitting back in her chair, Hermione wondered how she had never seen it before. Was this something new, or had it always been there, all these weeks, and she just hadn't bothered to take it in?

Because, following on from Molly's line of sight, Hermione found herself looking at… herself. She had been standing a bit off from the middle of the group, undoubtedly the birthday girl, but not entirely sure about being the absolute centre of attention. Sirius stood next to her, their bodies turned slightly to each other in a way that could be either entirely innocent or highly suggestive, depending on the beholder.

Molly Weasley must have been beholding quite a bit.

Hermione clearly remembered the real Sirus leaning in, his face turned away from the lens just as the charmed camera was about to snap, and rumbling in her ear. "Fancy another ride, birthday girl?"

A little more brazen than usual because of the champagne that had been flowing throughout the evening, she had leaned towards him in turn, shooting him a heavy-eyed look. "You are incorrigible."

"Are you sure about that?" Taking her hand nearest to his waist, he had lifted it to his lips. "If anyone could correct me, it would be you," he had whispered, before swiftly kissing the knuckle of her index finger.

She had smacked at his side, enjoying how the contact had made his eyes dance. "You are shameless – and you would just die if I was to be, too."

"I've already died once, love. Who could it hurt?"

At the time, she had thought his gaze was just mischievous, the banter their new normal level of flirty nothingness, but now, watching more closely, Hermione admitted that might have been a bit too naïve on her part.

The picture played out on a loop; sitting at her desk, she watched it over and over. The final time, she forced herself to forget the teasing banter in which they had been indulging and just look at their bodies, at the sway and shift of limbs, the space between them disappearing as they moved in a dance all their own, oblivious to everyone around them.

Good lord. It was almost indecent.

How on earth had Molly Weasley let Sirius Black walk out of that room with all of his bits still intact?

That must be why she had decided to say yes to his offer this morning, Hermione mused. Because of that thing between them – that draw and pull that she couldn't define but which a photograph obviously could capture and display on repeat.

It was time for telling truths.

She was absolutely furious that Sirius was seeing someone else. An owl from Tonks earlier in the day had given her the name of his new "friend": Professor Aurora Sinistra. Icy fury filled her veins just at the thought of it; but, somehow, that same chill refused to let her end things with him. More fool her, perhaps, but she was not about to let Sirius Black's half-assed attempts at drunken womanizing sabotage something real.

He had panicked while she had been out with another man, a wizard he knew she had liked.

Was she just panicking in turn, now that he was off to see another witch?

A small part of her brain had logically rationalised this predicament, ticking off one date for each of them: her with Colin, and now Sirius with Professor Sinistra. In some odd way, that made them even.

An even smaller part of her was actually impressed that he was still going through with the assignation he had arranged while completely legless. It had a lame sort of honour to it that she found endearing and infuriating in equal measure.

Most of all, she wanted to see how he dealt with her now that she knew what he was doing – how asinine he was being. And, Hermione reminded herself, it wasn't because she was about to become one of Sirius Black's silly little groupies, happy with a wink and a shag to tell her grand-daughters about decades from now.

Oh, no. That was not going to be her fate.

Sirius had told her to live a more unexpected life – to be more daring. Colin had given her one way of doing that, and she looked forward to their first session together at his studio next week.

But what would happen if she took a page from Colin's book and just told Sirius how she felt? Colin's forthrightness about his interest in her had been so refreshing, so honest and simple. So true. These flirtatious games with Sirius were fun and sexy, but they were also clouding things, confusing the space between them.

Maybe she needed to just tell him what she wanted.

Steeling herself, Hermione Granger began to make plans.

Ginny's quidditch match was always going to be a tense time. A meeting of the Holyhead Harpies and the Chudley Cannons inevitably meant longstanding grudges coming to the surface and hefty bets zinging around the stadium by wizards and witches looking to make a little punt.

As the team's lead chaser, Ginny always had the best seats in the friends and family box reserved for her personal supporters. Sirius had been delighted on his return to find that, not only was a girl he knew playing for such a storied team, but that said witch was also his godson's great love, which meant he, Sirius, always had guaranteed VIP seats for the best matches. These things mattered to those who cared enough about quidditch as he, Harry, and Ron obviously did.

The fact, though, that today's afternoon match was also the first time he had seen Hermione or anyone else from Grimmauld Place since he had returned home from his date with Aurora Sinistra last night also heightened the tension in the box quite a bit.

No one else seemed to know that he and Hermione were stepping out later that evening. She obviously hadn't wanted anyone to know, and he was in enough trouble with Remus and Tonks as it was, without adding even more ammunition to their arsenal. He was still amazed Tonks had left him alive after the other night.

The box was tiered, the seats ringed at the back by a long ledge for spectators who preferred to stand rather than sit through the more exciting moments of play. Sirius was back there now, a fresh butterbeer in hand from one of the house-elves in charge of the VIP area, his eyes supposedly on the chasers and beaters flying in front and above them. His position was good for the match, but even better for giving him a clear sightline down to where Hermione sat with Tonks, Harry, and Neville Longbottom. No one would be the wiser that he wasn't watching the game at all, so long as they stayed in their seats.

"How was last night, Pads?"

"Gods," he groaned. "I can't even watch the game, can I?"

Remus gave him a hard stare. "After the night you put me through? Not a chance. I want to know how the hell you could convince Aurora Sinistra to even look at you twice given the state you were in."

Taking a swig from the bottle, Sirius used the same hand to wipe at his lips. "I wasn't pissed then. That only hit later in the night, after Hagrid joined me."

"I've heard different."

Sirius shrugged. "Whatever."

Remus leaned on the ledge, cradling his own butterbeer in two hands, while he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "So? How was last night?"

"It was fine, Moony. Aurora's a delight. No, really – she is," he insisted when Remus remained silent. "She's smart and savvy and very beautiful."

"Sounds quite familiar… except this one is our age."

"Gods. Piss off, mate."

Remus shook his head, keeping his eyes on the quaffle, but his focus much closer to the ground. "How on earth did you go from lamenting your pathetic lovesick state for Hermione to suddenly having a night out with the Hogwarts astronomy prof?"

"I'm very talented with the ladies, Remus. You might have heard something about it in the past twenty-five years or so."

Sirius heard his friend's snort rather than seeing it.

"You git."

"Agreed, but there it is. I'm trying to get through this the only way I know how."

Remus took a drink and then pursed his lips. "Are you going to see Aurora again?"

"Do you think I should?"

"I'm not getting involved in this, Pads. Any part of it."

"So you keep saying," Sirius said sharply, "and, yet, here you are talking to me about my sex life yet again. At least Tonks makes no bones about butting her nose in where it's not wanted. You're just as much a nosy berk as she is – you're just not as honest about it."

"I've known too much about your sex life for too long not to be worried about this. And I'm quite intrigued that you've already reduced this entire mess down to sex rather than anything else a bit… larger."

Sirius barked a loud laugh, which made the others turn quickly. He covered by saluting them with his drink, briefly catching Hermione's eye before she turned back to the quidditch. "My cock is plenty large enough, as you damn well know, Remus Lupin."

"Gods," Remus groaned, dragging a hand across his face at his poor choice of words. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"This isn't a bloody measuring contest now, Pads. Aurora is a nice witch—"

"A bit kinky."

"WHAT?" Remus immediately lowered his voice after such a bellow, despite that fact that a loud cheer from the Harpies' fans had already drowned out his yelp. "How in the blazes do you already know that?"

Sirius grinned. "I can always tell. It's a gift."

Remus stopped watching the game and turned to look Sirius full in the face. "Hermione is not one of your damn games, Sirius," he hissed. "I just got through telling her to be careful with you, and now – despite my misgivings about ever speaking to either of you ever again – I'm asking you to do the same. Don't be a prick. She's worth more than that."

"She's worth everything," said Sirius softly.

"Precisely!"

A muscle flickered in Sirius' jaw. "Give over, Moony. I know what I'm doing."

"I just wonder about that."

"I do. Hermione and I are going to have a conversation tonight and then things will be much better. Dinner with Aurora clarified a few things for me – especially the age factor, which you so kindly brought up. After tonight, Hermione will get over her obsession with the Veil, I'll get over whatever it is about her that's plaguing me, and we can all live together in a happy house for the rest of our lives."

Remus sighed. "That much sarcasm should choke a person."

"I was only sarcastic at the end of it."

"And Aurora?"

Sirius shrugged. "Like you said, Moony, she's a nice witch. I'll let you know if I find out more."

Giving his friend one last, long, and very pointed look, Remus shook his head. "If James were here, he'd have already kicked the snot out of you."

"If Prongs were here, mate, he and Lily would have had my bollocks on the mantle long ago for even looking at their son's best friend, never mind snogging her. Can you imagine Lily's face if she'd found out?"

Remus smiled despite himself. "James would have looked outraged and then asked you how it was."

"Too right, he would have – and I wouldn't have said a word."

Sirius carefully watched the players in the air knowing Remus was giving him a double take.

The werewolf paused. "You're playing a dangerous game, Pads."

"Don't I know it," Sirius muttered. "But, alas, I don't know how to play it any other way."

Patting Moony on the back, Sirius left his now empty bottle on the ledge and walked down to the seats Ginny had reserved for them. He decided to sit one row behind Tonks and others. Shuffling through the space between the rows, he softly dragged one lone finger across the back of Hermione's shoulders. It was a small movement, something no one else would notice, or if they had, it could have been a totally normal movement in such a confined space. But Hermione had known he was coming by; his brief touch was more than enough to make her audibly gasp and sit up straighter.

Sirius looked back at Lupin, only to see his friend covering his eyes, appalled.

Once he was sitting down and settled, Sirius noticed that Hermione had peered back to glance at him. But, before he could do anything, she threw him for a loop.

Slowly wetting her lips with a very pink tongue, she then broke into the sauciest smile he had ever seen. Once she knew she had his attention, she gave him a devastatingly sexy wink. It promised hours of sin.

His eyes grew wide as he took a shaky breath. That was not what he had expected.

The hunter was being hunted.

And that was the moment, just when he was so sure he had everything figured out, that Sirius Black suddenly realised he wasn't nearly as in control of things as he had thought.

The touch of his finger had been electric. Hermione hadn't been able to think about the quidditch for a second longer after Sirius had, ever so surreptitiously, made her aware that he was behind her, watching her… touching her…

In times like these, a wise witch relied upon methods both tried and true in order to ascertain a proper course of action.

For Hermione that meant one thing: she needed Ron.

She had taken a chance on trying to connect to the youngest male Weasley through the Floo network as soon as they were all back from Ginny's victorious match. While the rest of the group retreated to their rooms or made tea downstairs, Hermione hurried to the library on the second floor of Grimmauld Place. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she threw it in the fireplace, hoping to fury that Ron hadn't left the dragon camp yet.

"Ronald? RON?!"

"Hermione?" A tired but very present voice answered back. It only took a moment for his head to appear in the green flames, showing the connection was secure.

"Oh, Ron. Thank goodness."

"Is everything all right?" he asked quickly, obviously worried.

"Oh, yes, of course! I'm so sorry – you must think… but, no, everything's fine. Everyone's fine. I promise."

"Well, that's a mercy. What on earth are you on about then? It's a Saturday, Hermione – I was hoping to get a bit of downtime after dealing with these dragons nonstop for the past fortnight. They can get right cranky this time of year, you know."

"I do understand, Ron. But, you see—"

Only his head was visible, but Hermione knew from its sudden tilt that Ron had just crossed his arms and was losing his patience.

"If you're fine, and Harry is fine, and my folks are fine, what do you want? Weren't you just at Ginny's game?"

"Yes. They won – only just, but it still counts, I suppose."

A grin broke out across his face. "Too right, it does! They'll make the playoffs for sure if Ginny can keep this up."

"Ronald, I did not make this call in order to talk about quidditch."

"Fine. What is it? I say that as a friend," he hurriedly explained, "but, you know… out with it!"

"Right," she sighed. Taking a brief pause, she leaned her head against the mantle, her eyes shut tight. "I think… I think I might have done something rather rash."

Ron laughed. "Rash? You? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"That's not helpful!" she said hotly.

"Since when do you expect me to be the helpful one?"

Hermione took a deep breath, letting the tension slowly slip off her shoulders. "I just – I need a different opinion… or an unbiased one, at any rate. Everyone here is, well… they're very opinionated."

"And I'm not?"

"I'm hoping not," she said. "You see, there are actually two things happening concurrently and they are related, but I'm wondering if, for once, I might have said yes to too much."

"Is that possible with you?" Ron snorted. "No Time-Turners handy to help you out?"

"A Time-Turner would be the last thing I need right now. In fact, I might need just the opposite," she admitted. "That way, everything would already be done and I'd be past it."

When he spoke, Ron's tone was entirely impatient. "Hermione. Come on. You're confusing me and we've barely started talking. Plus, I'm not sure how long Charlie is going to let me have this Floo open. So, if you want to tell me something, say it already!"

"Right, then," said Hermione, squaring her shoulders. "Well."

"My neck's starting to crick! Take a deep breath and try to say as much as you can in a single sentence – that always works for me."

"How enlightening," she said dryly.

"Hermione!"

"Right. Well, you know I've been working for the past half year on Sirius' return, yes? Trying to duplicate whatever spell Remus and Kingsley used to bring him back?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "And driving everyone around you batty in the process. Yes, I've heard a few things."

"Be that as it may," she answered primly. "An ex-Auror – he's a painter now, but he was an Auror and knows Tonks – anyway, he's offered to help me out a bit, to try to think about it all from different angles. But, in exchange, he's, ah… he's asked to paint me."

Ron nodded, his lips sticking out as if he were very wise and methodical. "Oh, he's that kind of painter, is he? The arty kind, not the house kind?"

"Yes, Ronald. The arty kind."

"Is he any good?" he asked.

"He's very good! Why should that even matter?"

"I dunno. But it does somehow."

"Charming. He's good – trust me."

"Do I get to see the painting when it's done?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think a lot of people will see the painting when it's finished. He is rather well known."

"And you really think he can help you with the Veil? Isn't that a bit outside a painter's expertise?"

Hermione's voice grew a bit louder and sharper. "Did you hear anything I just said? He's an ex-Auror. He trained Tonks! Of course, he can help! And he's been more willing to help than anyone else around here."

Ron paused, then tilted his head to one side. "You can't ask Sirius for more about what happened?"

"He's not been around that much," she said guardedly.

"Really?" Ron sounded puzzled. "Where's he been?"

"He's spent the last two nights out with Professor Sinistra."

The would-be dragon master's mouth fell open. "Really?! Blimey, Hermione, that's something unexpected. Although—"

"What?"

"You know," Ron began, slowly piecing together his thoughts, "I never would have put the two of them together before, but now that you say it, it does make a certain kind of sense, doesn't it? She's all mysterious and moody. He's all mysterious and moody. She's beautiful. He's not too bad when he cleans up. She studies the stars. He's named after one. They… uh… they both like nice clothes."

Hermione rubbed at her face, praying he would stop sometime soon. She knew if she were to say anything, Ron would know what was happening between herself and Sirius. He was uncanny that way – he had been ever since he'd totally missed out on her being with Viktor. It was as if Ron Weasley had then made it his life's goal after fourth year not to miss a trick when it came to the female third of the Golden Trio.

For now, however, it seemed that she hadn't given too much away.

"What's the worry about whoever Sirius is shagging now?" he asked. "Does Harry not like Professor Sinistra or something?"

Hermione shrugged, hoping it looked effortless. "I don't even know if Harry knows a thing about it."

"Then how do you know?"

"I live with Sirius," she answered, rather nonplussed. "My room is right across from his. Why would you be surprised that I know more about Sirius' day-to-day life than Harry does? And he's not shagging her."

Ron began to snicker. "Bit defensive there, aren't we?"

"That's not the point, Ron!"

"Wait, is someone else there?" He looked beyond her into the rest of the room, making her suddenly panic.

Hermione spun around and took a step towards the middle of the room. "Harry!"

Her best friend raced past her. "Is that Ron?" asked Harry. "Ron! It's about time! When are you coming home?"

"Not for ages yet, Harry. Way too much to get done here first. Now I can understand why Charlie never gets back as often as Bill or Percy. We're just slammed these days."

"Boys!" Hermione cried. "I was the one who Flooed Ron and I need to be the one speaking to him now. It's time sensitive!"

Harry and Ron shared a look, then both swung their eyes over to her. Ron huffed. "Listen. Hermione. If you think this – what's his name, anyway?"

"Colin Redwine."

"Right. If you think this Colin Redwine – that does sound familiar, doesn't it, Harry? – if you think this guy can be a help to you, I say go for it. And if it doesn't work, maybe you can find a new project to obsess over for a while? One less insulting to those you live with?"

Hermione crossed her arms and scowled at her friend's disembodied head. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, think about it! Sirius has to be getting rather tired of you constantly wanting to know about the Veil. I mean, it's a bit personal, isn't it? Treating his hellish, nightmarish, unending limbo of an existence like a maths problem you're obsessed with solving. As if it could ever be that easy."

"I don't do that!" She paused. "Do I do that? No. I don't!"

Harry nodded along with Ron. "Well, you sometimes do that. Not as often as a few months ago, but it's still… It's still touchy, isn't it?"

"I don't! I would never hurt Sirius like that."

"Well, not on purpose," said Ron, "but you still have been doing it now for ages. Most people would never want to think about the worst time of their lives ever again if they could help it. Plus, the man was in prison for donkey's years before that. It's like you want to remind him all the time of the very worst things that ever happened to him!"

"I… I… wh—" she sputtered.

Harry held up a hand, trying to reassure her. "Sirius doesn't hate you or anything, Hermione. We're not saying that. He likes spending time with you, so, I guess, as long as he says it's all right, it's all right. Right?"

"Well said, Harry," agreed Ron, nodding sagely.

"This isn't happening," muttered Hermione, shaking her head between her hands.

Ron smirked. "Anyway, is he going to have any time for you if he's dating Professor Sinistra now? She was… well… yeah."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "He's not dating her! They've been out together twice."

"Out?" Ron continued to laugh to himself. "We are talking about Sirius Black here, aren't we? That man's had more witches than Lockhart ever dreamed of – and that's despite spending half of his life on the sidelines. 'Out.' That's adorable, Hermione. Well done."

Hermine blanched. "You don't think…? He wouldn't." Her voice fell away on the last word.

"Well," Harry said slowly, "he does have a bit of a reputation."

"He wouldn't!" she vowed.

"Definitely not the first night. I saw him then – he was pretty rough. But, that was two nights ago. Did he come home last night?"

The silence was like a gut-punch. Hermione could feel her gorge rising. "I don't know," she whispered. "But he would never. Not with her. It's not possible."

"I don't know, Hermione," tsked Ron. "Maybe you're just jealous."

"I am not!"

He shrugged, a shoulder briefly visible through the green flames. "You sound that way."

Now it was Harry's turn to look mystified. "Ron. Do you hear yourself? She can't be jealous. That would mean she wants to sleep with Sirius."

"Doesn't she?"

"I'm right here!" Hermione reminded them.

A new voice joined the trio. "For the record, I always thought you did."

All three of them looked over to see Ginny Weasley walking towards them, her hair still wet from her post-quidditch shower.

Hermione's eyes grew round. "Ginny! Since when have you thought that? You've hardly ever said a word to me about him."

Flipping her long tresses over her shoulder, Ginny gave her old friend a small, secret smile as she settled down on the carpet near Harry's feet. "Honestly? I didn't think it was my place. But I've always thought you wanted Sirius. The man's sex on legs."

Harry sounded stunned. "I feel very secure in my relationship with you, Gin, otherwise I'd be a bit frightened that you think of my godfather that way."

The redhead smiled up at her lover. "You have nothing to worry about, darling – and your godfather is fit."

Hermione, meanwhile, was looking back and forth from Ron's head in the flames to her best girlfriend. "You've both thought I want Sirius? All this time?"

"Well, that's what I've been saying to anyone who'd listen for the past six months."

"Tonks?!" Hermione briefly screwed her eyes shut, as if she could block out the growing audience in the room. "Where did you come from? Just how many people are on this Floo call?"

"I'm not in the room, exactly, but I should point out that all of your voices carry quite a bit."

"Remus?" Hermione whimpered, refusing to look behind her. "Are you really here?"

The werewolf stuck a head into the library and spelt out the obvious. "You're shouting in a fireplace directly across from our bedroom and you left the door open. Why is this surprising?"

As a horrible awareness slipped down her spine, Hermione leapt back from the hearth. "Oh my gods. Where's Sirius?"

"He's not out here," Remus answered, double-checking by peering back into the hallway. "Not yet, anyway. He did say he had plans for tonight. Aurora again, do you think?" His last question was directed straight at Hermione. One glance at Remus told her he knew exactly who Sirius was going out with that evening.

Rattled, she stood up straight, desperate to regain control of the room, especially before anyone else could sound off about Sirius and the beautiful astronomy professor. "Out!" she cried, pulling Ginny up from her seat on the floor. "All of you, out! Now!"

Remus retreated back across the hall while Tonks threw Hermione a confused look as she left, too.

"I mean it!" Hermione said, shooing Harry and Ginny away as sharply as she could.

"Does that include me, too?" asked the face in the flames.

"It does. I'm sorry. Goodbye, Ron – and thanks for trying to help."

Grinning, he looked smugly at his dear friend. "Good luck. You're gonna need it." There was a brief whirl of green, and he was gone.

Finally alone, Hermione looked up at the ceiling. Sirius' suite of rooms was directly above her head. She had already made her mind up yesterday about what she wanted – what she needed him to understand.

But had he already slept with Professor Sinistra? She'd called him out yesterday for moving fast but… really?

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs to the third floor. A bath was called for, and then the careful assembly of her outfit for the evening. It was time to make Sirius aware of just what he was in danger of losing.

Before going into her room, she found a note tacked to her door.

Dress code for tonight: glamourous. Surprised? S.

Pulling the smooth single sheet of paper off the wood, Hermione rubbed it between her fingers, enjoying the feel of the creamy paper against her skin. Sirius never did anything by halves. Neither would she.

Prepare yourself, Mr Black, she thought. This will be a night to remember…