Author's Note: Something has happened to my stats on this site so that, after a great reception for the first few chapters, I can't see if anyone is still reading the story. I can see an increase in follows and favourites, and if someone leaves a review, but that's it. So, if you are reading it, I will never be able to tell, but I do hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: The Return

Looking back, Hermione knew she hadn't planned any of it.

How could she have? It was completely out of character for her. Well, out of character for her old self. The new Hermione had been raising eyebrows for quite a few months.

After the war and another three years of Ministry "reconstruction," everyone else had seemed to move on with their lives. Harry and Ginny had leased a cottage, insisting that Lupin and Tonks keep Grimmauld Place for themselves. Ron was off chasing Hungarian Horntails with Charlie in Eastern Europe. Fred and George were living the high life in London, or at least the better parts of Diagon Alley, with plans to expand their joke shops into Hogsmeade and, if rumour had it, Beaux-Batons' local village in France.

Hermione, armed with more NEWTs than she knew what to do with, had lived with her parents for exactly one week before realising that wouldn't work. Their worlds were too different now, especially after all she had seen in Voldemort's downfall. They had pleaded with her to move home before starting up any post at Hogwarts or the Ministry, but the muggle lifestyle was so foreign to her now. She was seconded to the Department of Mysteries, with a fairly broad remit of researching whatever she liked, so long as she eventually could show its benefit to wizarding kind. Those kind of parameters meant a lot of isolated research, which only increased her need for other people around her the rest of the day. She knew she had to strike out on her own eventually, but, for the present, she was happily living at Remus' invitation in the second bedroom on the third floor at Grimmauld Place.

The first bedroom on the third floor belonged to Sirius. It had once been his old childhood bedroom, but he'd insisted on some alterations. Half of the third floor was now his own private suite, complete with a fireplace, a walk-in closet, and quite a few very expensive warlock paintings. Funnily enough, his redesigns hadn't included a shower, which meant he could be found early every morning sauntering about the third-floor hallway in a towel and not much else on his way to and from the bath.

His reappearance in their lives had gone largely unexplained. That had been Hermione's downfall. One day he had been a much-mourned member of the Order of the Phoenix; the next, he had been led, shaking and hunched over, his bare chest and shoulders covered in a grey blanket, into the kitchen of his family home, supported on either side by Remus and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

All Remus had ever told her was, "It was almost too much." He had said it that night as he gently rested Sirius' head on the kitchen table, and then he had never said it again.

The ensuing silence about how Sirius had returned had become Hermione's obsession.

She couldn't imagine what spell Remus and Kingsley had performed deep in the bowels of the Ministry to retrieve him from the Veil. Sirius certainly never talked about it.

"Little girls don't need to hear about things like that, love," he'd said, giving her a small smile a few weeks later.

"I am not a little girl," she huffed, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

"I know that." His fingers caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I do know that, Hermione. Anyone could see you've grown into a beautiful, bright, and completely stubborn woman. Even more stubborn than the young witch who used to yell at me about house-elves. I might tell you what it was like. Someday. But for now, leave off a bit, yeah?"

She didn't.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what it was about Sirius' reappearance that had her so fascinated, but she was hooked. By the first morning after his return, she was on the hunt for knowledge. She wanted to know everything: the spell, the ingredients used, what he'd looked like when he reappeared, if the Veil had moved, if there had been other whispers from beyond it, what he had seen on the other side, how he had felt. Had they needed arithmancy or runes to time his retrieval? How far into the Dark Arts had they gone to bring him back? Necromancy? Resurrection rites? Why had something worked now, and not immediately after they had lost Sirius, five long years ago?

Her list of unanswered questions grew and her pressing for answers went on for weeks, long after Sirius had told her to stop. Warned once, she hadn't asked him again about it, not directly, but that hadn't stopped her from pestering everyone else to the point of distraction.

She had been nearly sixteen when he had fallen through the Veil; now she was almost twenty-one, but still full of questions. She was the brightest student to come out of Hogwarts in a generation, but she couldn't fathom the depth of skill needed to restore one of their own. What did Remus and Kingsley know that she didn't? Something deep within kept driving her to find out as much as she could. It was a compulsion that she hadn't expected to discover within herself, but once she felt it rise under her skin, she had to keep going.

Even Harry had been surprised at the depths of her obsession.

"It's for our own good to know!" she snapped when he finally cornered her in the kitchen about it. "What if it happens to one of us?"

"Hermione, I seriously doubt that will happen. None of us ever want to go near that Veil ever again."

She whirled around, her back pressed up against the counter. "But it could! What if it does? What if Sirius disappears again? Until we all know what happened and how it was done, that's still a possibility. We could lose him again. You could lose him. How could you bear it?"

"Do you hear yourself?" Harry asked, running his hand through his hair. "Sirius is fine, Hermione. He's back. He's not going anywhere."

"You can't be sure about that."

"We're as sure as we can be, Hermione." Remus' soft voice echoed through the kitchen. He stood just inside the threshold, leaning against the wall. "Kingsley and I knew what we were doing."

"Then why won't you tell the rest of us?"

Lupin's eyes caught hers and held them, pinning her from across the room. "Because no one needs to know what we did. No one. Just be glad he's here."

She glared at Harry. "Are you satisfied with that?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. She could tell he was really thinking, weighing what he would say. Finally, he nodded, glancing at Remus before returning her stare. "Yes," he said. "Sirius is back. That's all I need to know."

Remus let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. "And I think that's an end to this conversation."

That had been more than four months ago. Giving into the most well-meaning peer pressure, Hermione had done her best to leave her books alone and get out a bit more. She still sent owls to witches and wizards around the globe in search of clues, but she no longer refused to leave Grimmauld Place until every owl had returned its reply. Sirius, himself, had gone out of his way to get her to forget about his mysteries and concentrate on something else. Anything else.

He'd taken her out for (non-flying) rides on his motorcycle, having asked Hagrid to retrieve it from its hiding place in the Forbidden Forest. He'd taken her to the cinema and all the bookstores along Charing Cross Road. He'd organised group outings and picnics and dinner parties, all in the hope, oddly enough, that she would stop focusing on him. Or, at least, that part of him.

Those who knew Sirius were glad he'd taken such a new lease on life, enjoying everything London had to offer, even as they frowned at Hermione's new edginess and fixation. They made an odd couple, living across from each other on the third floor of the large, draughty house.

Tonks, especially, disapproved. One night, when Lupin had cleared away the dishes and Hermione had raced upstairs, yet again, to pour over her dusty tomes and forbidden spell books, Tonks hit her limit.

"That girl needs help. Seriously. Sirius?"

He looked up from the far end of the table. "What?"

"You need to do something."

"And what exactly do you suggest?"

Tonks threw her dish towel away and strode over to him, oblivious to the fact that she had nearly knocked over a stack of china teacups on the counter. Remus had had to move very quickly that time.

"You need to either tell her the whole story or find some other way of making her stop obsessing about you! It's not healthy!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" he snapped back, rising to his feet. "She's driving me crazy, but all I want to do is help her. It doesn't make any sense!" It was the first time he had really raised his voice since his return. Remus couldn't help but be intrigued. While the two cousins squared off, he leaned against the sink, waiting to see what his best friend might say.

Sirius took a deep breath. "Tonks, listen to me. I'm trying with her. I've been trying. I've done practically everything I can think of, but she won't give up! She knows not to ask me about anything directly and damned if I can get her nose out of those bloody books."

"Try harder," Tonks said. There was a distinct edge to her voice.

He shook his head and glanced over her shoulder to Remus. "You know what the worst part is?"

"What?" asked Remus.

"It isn't even about me. It's just that damn spell. If it was me she wanted, well…" He let the sentence die away as Remus and Tonks shared a look. "But it's not that," Sirius continued. "She's, what, twenty-one and I'm… not."

"Age isn't everything," Remus offered. Tonks moved back to his side, his arm coming up around her shoulders as she leaned her head against him. "Look at us."

"That's different."

"Is it?" Tonks asked.

Sirius put up his hands as he slumped back into his chair. "Look, I'll give it one more try. See if I can't pique her interest with some fabulous magical mystery or that new art collection down at the Tate. Anything to get her mind off, you know – "

"Your not-you-ness?"

Sirius frowned at Tonks' word arrangement. "Are you sure you want to be dating her, mate?" he asked Remus. "She's always been a bit of a nightmare."

Lupin laughed softly and wrapped his arm around Tonks' shoulders. "I'll keep what I've got, thanks. Give it one last go with Hermione. That's all anyone can ask of you. If that doesn't work, well, maybe Kingsley and I can come up with something."

"About time you two took some responsibility for this mess. All I did was show up."

"And that was all it took," Remus answered. "Think about that."

The werewolf and his mate went upstairs to their own bedroom on the second floor, leaving Sirius alone in the dark kitchen, his thoughts hanging over him.