Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter – If I did, I would never have gotten Post-Potter Depression and instead, I'd just keep writing more books, unwilling to leave the amazing creation of Hogwarts behind!

Playing God

Chapter 18

As Hermione entered her courtyard, she found herself unusually alert. She was keeping a look-out for a bubbly, blonde-haired woman who spoke like a hummingbird on crack and had this obsessive need to drag her from her home, comfy PJ's and reading materials to a party which she had no interest in.

Upon finding the courtyard empty, dark and perfectly tranquil, Hermione sighed happily, slipping the key into the lock and turning it, her ears tuned to the little click that told her she was home free – it wasn't that she didn't appreciate Caitlyn's efforts, it was just she was a homebody, not a partier.

The little click sounded and Hermione resisted the urge to cackle madly before she open her door with a flourish of success – and then jumped a good two foot in the air when there was an explosion of streamers flying towards her and she was bathed in sudden light as Caitlyn's voice screamed out "HAPPY WELCOME MOVING DAY! Even though you've been here a month already! Yay!"

Hermione stared open-mouthed at the amount of people who were pushing past her, exiting her apartment to file into the courtyard as Hermione tried to calm her furiously beating heat. "Surprise!" Caitlyn giggled, clapping her hands together as best she could while holding onto a candy-cane stripped mega-phone. "Are you surprised? Are you? Are you?"

She could say with complete honestly that she indeed was. "I-I didn't expect my flat to be the venue!"

"It's not the venue, it's the pre-party meeting place, silly!" Caitlyn scolded her as if it was something that she should have just known, "the venue for your party is the courtyard!"

"How did you even get into my fl-" before Hermione even finished her question, an old looking key was dangling from a long, elegant finger, the fingernail painted a vicious red.

"You gave me your spare key, bitch." After Natalia had got into her apartment after a nightmare a few weeks ago, Hermione had put every spell that she knew on her lock so that it couldn't be opened with magic. Still, she knew that it would be beneficial for her if other people could get in in case she was sick, injured or in trouble, so she gave spare keys to both Natalia and Cal – she had tried to give to Remus but she had retracted it instantly once he reminded her that his best friends would steal it and that they would prank her.

"Of course, I should have known that you had something to do with this, Nat," Hermione frowned as Caitlyn 'accio-ed' a yellow boom-box from her upstairs apartment and The Weird Sisters music blared from it as everyone cheered.

Natalia rolled her eyes at Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest and resting her weight on one-leg, the curve of her hip attracting the eyes of the closest group of men who Hermione had never seen before in her life. "I don't know why you're so surprised, Herm; You know that Caitlyn was throwing this party for you."

"I did." Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgement, "but I didn't expect it to be this…vibrant." She watched Caitlyn skip around the lip of the fountain, charming the water to fall in multi-colours instead of a nice, simple clear.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's party hard tonight!" Natalia said happily, grabbing Hermione's hand and dragging her to the fountain where someone had built a huge pyramid of shot-glasses, arranged so that they would all fill up once the top one was full and Madame Rosmerta just kept pouring.

"Let's not and say we did?" Hermione suggested meekly as Natalia passed her a drink.

"No chance."

00000

A Woman was sat, her back pressed to the wall behind her as she cradled something precious in her lap, her small hands running through the golden strands of the small boy, his head tilted to the side, his big brown eyes staring unseeingly at the family portrait which was propped up on the mantle-piece, waiting for its time to be placed on the wall.

She blinked once, slowly, mechanically, and two identical tears trailed down her cheeks, following the path of those that been before and the woman made no move to brush them away or hide them – she wanted the world to see her pain, even if she endured it in silence.

She had done all that she could, she knew that and yet…Yet she was the one to blame for allowing that…cruel, vicious person to get a hold of her son in the first place, to sneer and shriek, taunt and laugh as she lay immobile, almost as if she had been bound by invisible ropes which only seemed to tighten the more that she struggled to be free. And oh, how she had struggled. She had been desperate to reach her son, to sooth him as his body bowed from the floor, a long red jet of light erupting from the darkness, causing him to scream and scream and scream…

She had hoped, prayed that her neighbours would hear, that they would burst into her home and do what she could not. Save her son, her very soul from this damnation.

The front door opened and closed softly and the woman closed her eyes and let her head fall back as her hand tightened in her son's hair, afraid, so very afraid of what would happen now. "Honey?" Her husband, her sweet, kind, loving husband was about to walk in and witness the scene before him – furniture upturned, glass shattered, blood marks on the floor and a lost soul, clutching onto what was her salvation. "Honey are yo-"

He stopped dead, staring at her. She could feel his eyes staring in utter disbelief, confusion, pain…She allowed herself a moment, just a moment in the calm before the storm, to remember what had occurred her only hours before.

"Please, I beg of you, please not – not my boy, please no…"

"Silence!" the poor woman stopped her plea's instantly, though not of her own volition. It was as if someone had cut her vocal chords, so that no sound could come out, whether she wanted to or not. She struggled harder against the invisible bonds that held her still, feeling them tightening around her chest like a rubber band, making it hard, so very hard to breathe.

"It's okay, mama," the young boy's only thought to sooth his ailing mother even as he was being dragged roughly to his feet, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"It's really not okay, mama," the figure cloaked in darkness hissed, two eyes glinting menacingly in the darkness. "Your boy is an anomaly, a freak of nature that must be rectified."

"What are you talking about?!" the woman spat, having somehow regained the use of her voice, "he's my son!" She tried to reach desperately for him, to offer her comfort, but the bonds tightened so painfully that her ribs started protesting and she started wheezing painfully wet breaths, "There's nothing wrong with him! He's just a child!"

"There is everything wrong with him!" The figure lost its temper and began shrieking, stamping their foot like a child. The woman was horrified to recognise that the voice was female.

"Isn't normal? Of course he's normal! What have you deluded yourself into thinking?" The woman asked, her small cries turning into deep, desperate sobs, her eyes trained to her sons, hoping against hope that he understood what she was saying to him. "I love him."

"Aww, isn't that precious?" The figure spat the last word out as if it burned her to say it, flayed her to even think it. "Well, at least he'll have a good eulogy at his itty-bitty funeral –"

"NO!" With a strength that the woman didn't know she was capable of, she felt the invisible bonds snap as she strained against them and she fell unceremoniously to the floor. She ignored the figure's shriek of outrage and she reached forward, clutching her son's sleeve in one hand and bracing the floor with the other, she pulled her child to her, cradling him against her body, pressing her cheek to his forehead, whispering reassurances, "it's gonna be okay, just you see. It's okay, it's okay, it'll be fine, just fine…Please…Please don't hurt him, not him, not my son…"

The figure chuckled and stepped forward and the woman caught sight of long, black curled hair, tanned skin and dark eyes before her blood red lips parted, displaying her straight white teeth briefly as she said two words, two words that chilled the woman to the very bone, before green light filled the room and her son's weight, heavy and limp fell onto her. Lifeless. Dead.

"No chance."

00000

"How goes the party?"

"You lied." Hermione said simply, not looking up at the red-head as she gazed into the fountain, her left hand loosely holding onto a bottle of beer that Natalia had passed her at some point during the night, but was now leaning against the courtyard wall, talking to a very tall man with dark brown, almost black hair.

"Me? Tell a lie? Why, I'm offended by this accusation." Lily chuckled lightly, perching herself on the edge of the fountain beside Hermione, her green eyes fixed to the bushy haired woman's face. "Not enjoying yourself?"

"I think I'd enjoy my bed more," Hermione mumbled, allowing her head to fall into her right hand, pushing some strands of hair from her face.

"You'd enjoy it a lot more if I were in it with you."

Hermione barely had time to groan before Lily giggled and stood to find James, her dainty hands pushing the purple top that she wore down her still flat stomach. "I'll see you guys later. Don't get into too much trouble now."

"Lily, trouble is my middle name." Sirius grinned, a glint in his eye as Lily rolled her own, hands on her hips as she played their little game.

"Oh, is it now?"

"Yep. I'm being Siriusly Sirius about this."

"You're always Sirius," Lily teased back before she span elegantly on her heel and wondered off to find her husband (who, incidentally, was trying to juggle with alarm clocks on the far side of the courtyard).

Sirius shook his head in amusement and sat in Lily's vacant spot, leaning back on his hands as he watched the people around him enjoy themselves at a party for a girl that they most likely didn't know. "What's up, Hermione?"

"What's up? Oh, Inigo just found out that Count Rugen is the six-fingered man who killed his father, and instead of finding out what Inigo is going to do about it, I'm sat outside in the freezing cold, with a headache, holding a beer that I'm just not going to drink, and feeling like an outsider for not enjoying myself at this party which Caitlyn worked really hard on and I'm being ungrateful!"

Sirius blinked at her a few times, "whose Inigo?" He asked, his eyebrow quirked.

"He's a pirate character in The Princess Bride … Have you never read the book?"

"Have you ever not read a book?" Sirius shot back instantly, chuckling when Hermione narrowed her eyes before a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "So you're not a party animal. Don't sweat the small stuff, sweetheart." Sirius shrugged and Hermione felt a blush rise up to her cheeks at the term of endearment that slipped so easily past Sirius' lips.

"I never used to. I've never really been insecure until…" She trailed off, aware that she was saying too much too fast to the one person that she shouldn't be saying anything to.

"Until what?" He asked and Hermione turned her head away, somehow afraid that he would read her thoughts of 'since I had to get you to fall in love with me,' 'since I've been given an insane mission,' 'since I need to be friends with people that I need to let die in just over a year.'

"Nothing," Hermione said quietly, her eyes fixed on Caitlyn starting a conga-line, a lampshade on her head as she held a long pink tube which shot rainbow streamers out the end with a loud quaking noise, "since nothing."

A slightly awkward silence settled between them and Hermione refused to look back at him, afraid that she would just pour out her heart and soul to him and knowing what a terribly bad idea that would be. Still, that thought was shot to hell when something warm and heavy settled across her shoulders and she looked back to see that he had put his leather jacket across her, leaving him in a David Bowie T-Shirt.

"I-Thank-you."

"What did I tell you not three moments ago?" He shook his head at her in amusement, settling his arm behind her body, "don't sweat the small stuff."

Hermione looked up at him, almost shyly and when he grinned at her in his adorable, lop-sided, slightly arrogant manner, she felt her heart jump. The silence that settled between them now was almost peaceful and Hermione felt like she could finally breathe. The boom box to the right of them had just finished blaring a painfully loud rock song and the whole tone of the night seemed to have shifted as a quant melody filled the courtyard and the fairy lights thrown all over the place dimmed at once, creating a lovely atmosphere.

"Do you wanna dance?" Sirius asked and Hermione felt her head nod before he brain had even processed the questions. He stood and stretched briefly, the muscles of his body straining against the fabric of his shirt in a way that caught Hermione's eye and she looked away in embarrassment, although the little snicker she heard from him told her that he had known that she had been looking. He reached down and, with a mock-bow, offered his hand to her.

She graciously accepted, but not before threading her arms through the arms of his leather jacket, pleased to feel the heat that kissed her skin, fighting off the chill that had crept along her body. Sirius twirled her once before pulling her into his body, her chestnut curls brushing his chest on his spin and tickling the exposed skin of his arms as they tumbled down her back. He slid his fingers through hers as his other arm slid around her waist, his hand settling on the small of her back as her own hand crept up over his shoulder for both stability and to bring him closer to her.

"Do you know how to dance?" He asked her, tilting his head down so that his eyes caught hers, his lips still smiling at her.

"I do." She nodded, her own smile appearing, "but I do have a tendency to start leading."

Sirius shook his head in a way that told Hermione that he wasn't completely surprised by her admission as he pulled her both closer at the same time as lead them both into a small, easy waltz. Hermione had learnt to do this long ago, with Dean Thomas as her partner while Professor McGonagall played an old record player at the back of the classroom, giggles and groans of annoyance filling the air and the astonishment that she had felt when she'd been spun into Neville, who had led her in a nearly flawless waltz – that day's memories slammed into her as Sirius spun her once again and she couldn't help the smile of affection that pulled at her lips.

She was surprised when Sirius effortlessly gave her the lead, letting her turn them in time to the beautiful melody that was gently serenading all of the couples dancing around the courtyard. She moved her head back to look at him questioningly, her eyebrow rose even as she continued to lead them.

He shrugged one shoulder, bringing their clasped hands between their bodies, so that they were clasped to his chest, his thumb rubbing over he knuckles. "What can I say? I guess I don't mind being submissive to a beautiful woman." While Hermione found that to be incredibly cheesy, she could not for the life of her stop the blush from blooming pink on her cheeks and travelling a path down her neck.

A simple silence fell between them as they continued their dance, easing leadership to the other at certain dips rise and falls of the music, never losing their footing or their timing. Hermione rested her cheek on Sirius's shoulder, her forehead brushing his neck as he bent his head down in response, his black hair falling to create a curtain to keep them safe and hidden from the other party-goers, so it felt like it was just them and them alone as the rest of the world faded away and left them and their dance alone.

Once the song came to an end, Hermione closed her eyes briefly, giving herself just a moment to allow Sirius to surround her completely as she memorised the feel of him, the smell of him – her eyes fluttered open to catch the sight of him as she moved her head back, letting reality slam back into her like a freight train that would have knocked her flat had it not been for Sirius's strong arms around her, holding her to him, keeping her close.

"Thank-you," she said, her hand sliding up from his chest to rest against the side of his face, "for this." She clarified, thought she knew that a small thank-you would never be enough for what he had just given her. A moment where she was just…just her, just Hermione, and she wasn't worrying about the mission or about her own selfish desires to hurt the people who had hurt her in years to come. She had been given a moment to not think and Sirius had handed it to her.

He turned his head and kissed her palm and Hermione ignored the little shocks of warmth that danced across her skin at the touch and her own lips parted automatically. "You don't have to thank me, love." He told her honestly, although Hermione knew that Sirius didn't really understand what their little dance had truly meant to her, "the pleasure was all mine."

Hermione smiled brightly, warmth radiating from her genuine expression before she stepped back, letting his arms fall away as her fingers fell from his strong line, his light stubble scratching her fingertips.

He bowed once more before he span on the heel of his boot and moved away from her, towards the centre of the party were Peter was making an idiot of himself and Hermione frowned lightly as the pang in her heart at the sight of him leaving her.

Hermione had been a fool. She realised now, with his scent on her skin and his leather jacket wrapped around her body, that she hadn't once contemplated the thought that she might end up loving him.

She wasn't in love, she thought as her brown eyes followed Sirius's movements through the small crowd as he banged some syllabus together while James played (what she assumed was) an invisible trumpet, but she could, just as easily as she'd loved Ron.

Because he, despite all his faults, was lovable. And she, despite her misgivings, was falling.

Lily was right, Hermione thought as she sat back down on the edge of the fountain, letting her fingers trail the top of the soothing liquid, creating rainbow coloured ripples that distorted the moons image and the bright glow of the fairy-lights.

Caitlyn's party was worth it.

A/N: Annnnnd, I'm not dead! Yay!

Okay, explanation time, although I'm sure that you're sick of these, I feel that you deserve to read it (if you want, of course…). As silly and impossible as this might seem, over the past few months I just…I stopped being a Potterhead. I truly did, I moved away from this fandom and started reading other fanfics (I have a HUGE thing for Rumbelle, from Once Upon A Time) and I stopped writing and reading Harry Potter fics (as well as stopped watching the films and reading the actual, legit books.)

Post-Potter depression hit me hard and I just felt myself letting go of the pure magic that is Harry Potter. I must have tried to write this chapter a good dozen times and I gave up every time because, for the first time since I found Harry Potter, I didn't believe that Hogwarts would welcome me, whether I tried to get there through pages or on the big screen and, guys, I lost it.

Then something magical happened. On March 15th StarKid, my saving grace, uploaded A Very Potter: Senior Year. The Harry Potter feels slammed into me so hard whilst watching this roller-coaster of emotions. I laughed, cried, ugly sobbed and sang along. I realised, right then, whilst watching the Epilogue that it was okay to let go of Harry. Then I realised that I didn't (excuse my language) fucking want to. I wanted to go to Hogwarts and I wanted to go on adventures and I wanted, more than anything, to feel the magic. So I dug out my Harry Potter books (I'm re-reading the fourth one right now), found my Ravenclaw Scarf, logged onto Pottermore and caught up with some Harry Potter fics and fanarts. Then I caught up with my own.

I know to some people reading this that will make no sense, but Harry Potter slammed into my life with a vengeance and I hope that it never, ever goes away again. But still, in a strange way, I'm kinda glad that it did leave me, just for a little while. It allowed me to rediscover the magic of Hogwarts and the morals and values of Harry Potter and for all the things about the series that I can nit-pick at, I will forever love what they have done for me because Hogwarts is my home, is all of our homes, and no matter how crap or miserable we feel, Hogwarts will always be there to revisit during those times and I'm glad that I realised that all over again, because it makes the magic so much more powerful.

Kelly

Xxx

(Also, I teared up a little bit writing this, don't judge me. Oh, and if you haven't seen AVPSY, watch it. It captures the meaning behind Harry Potter perfectly – And it may make you sexually attracted to a spider…No judging!)