Beta love: glittergrrrl05 (Such a talented author. You'll love stuff if you love fun and funny!)

Disclaimer: HP & the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money or profit from the publishing of this story.

Ch. 7

Monday Afternoon

Mid-October 1998

Prof. Trallop's Classroom

Harry and Hermione settled into their preferred desks in the classroom. Professor Trallop, thankfully, hadn't tried any further 'tricks', as Hermione thought of them. Instead, they'd been working on meditation techniques, breathing exercises, and had started a dream journal. Hermione still snickered when she thought about the day they'd done trust exercises. Draco had earned his lowest grade of the year for not trusting the Hufflepuffs to catch him, but since they'd waited until the last possible instant to do so, his distrust hadn't been so misplaced after all.

But today was different; Professor Trallop had a new game in mind for the eighth year students.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to play a game. It will be with your desk mates, so you may get to know them even better." She looked around the room. "We may change partners in a few moments, but first, let's see how this goes. I will give you the first word, and your deskmate will respond with the first word that pops into his or her head. You will then respond with the first word that pops into your head."

She looked around the room. "Let me demonstrate. Miss Parkinson, if you please?" At Pansy's nod, she reminded her, "the first word that pops into your head, please. Green."

"Slytherin," Pansy responded.

"House."

"Home."

"See? It's just that easy. And after a few minutes, we can discuss what we have learned." The professor checked that everyone was paying attention. "If you are on the right, you will be first; your word is 'war.'"

She made the rounds of the room, listening in on the conversations and pausing here and there when something stuck her attention.

"Voldemort," began Harry.

"Bellatrix," Hermione responded.

Harry paled. "Evil."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Madness."

"Finished." He returned the squeeze, looking into her eyes.

"Friendship."

"Love."

"Forever."

They fell silent, just looking at each other.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, why aren't you participating?" Professor Trallop appeared on silent feet at the side of their table.

"Sorry, Professor; we just had a lull," Hermione answered. "Perhaps you'd suggest another word for us to use as a jumping off point."

"No, that's fine; I heard much of what you said. Let's discuss it."

Thursday Morning

Mid-October 1998

Hogwarts School

The eighth year boys had all gathered in the common room to discuss the upcoming Halloween Masque. Terry called the impromptu meeting to order. "Anybody else getting shit about their costume?"

Grumbles of assent surrounded him.

"Pansy's going as a butterfly, and she wants me to go as the fucking cocoon!" Blaise sounded particularly disgruntled.

"Daphne wanted me to go as Jack Frost - something about her going as winter and it's 'perfect' with my hair." Draco paused. "Not going to happen."

"Hermione didn't ask me to go as King Arthur, but it was a near thing." Harry shuddered at the thought of Arthurian robes.

"We could refuse to go," Justin offered. "Stay here; have some drinks."

"While I understand the appeal of avoiding a fancy dress party, I'd just as soon not miss the opportunity for some," Draco paused for effect, "quality time with the ladies."

"I agree with Drake; I've got better things to do than sit with you tossers," Blaise spoke up. Harry narrowed his eyes at the wizard. He knew exactly which witch Blaise was interested in seeing, and Ron was relying on him to keep an eye on Ginny.

"So we all want to go, but we don't want to dress up like a bunch of boffins," Harry stated the obvious. At their nods of assent, he continued, "Then what do we do?"

Neville piped up. "My gran has pictures from Halloween Masques when she was young. The wizards didn't wear costumes; they wore half-masks and dress robes."

"That's a good idea," Terry mused. "We could all glamour our hair the same color, and wear dress robes and half masks. We'd still be in costume, but not look like a bunch of idiots."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "And we can tell the girls we'll be in costume - maybe they'll quit nagging us about it."

"People will still know who we are," Justin objected.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you? We can all look exactly alike if we want, Fletchley, but that's not the point. The point is we'll all be participating so McGonagall can't get pissed that we're undermining house unity or some such shite, but we're still not looking like a bunch of pussy-whipped fourth years." Draco looked around the room. "Who's in?"

Before anyone could respond, Hermione crossed the common room, headed to her room. She had a book in her hand and acknowledged the wizards gathered in front of the fireplace with an absent-minded wave of her hand.

Harry's eyes lingered on her retreating form, but his attention snapped back to his comrades when he heard Terry say, "She's even hotter now. I may ask her out."

I don't have a claim on her. She's only my best friend. We're not dating. Harry's fist clenched on his lap as he struggled to keep his face neutral. I don't have a claim on her. But two others noticed his reaction.

Neville spoke up. "She's taken."

"By whom, Longbottom?" Terry challenged. "Because last I checked, she's not dating anyone."

Draco's drawling voice floated across the circle. "Unless you want to go wand to wand with the Chosen One, you should steer clear."

"We're not dating, Malfoy. Boot can ask her out of if he wants." Harry just managed to keep his tone even.

"Really, Potter? Because I saw that kiss the other night in this very room. Looks like that to me." Draco paused. "Or something similar. And who else smells like books and parchment, sunshine, and - what was that flower, honeysuckle?"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy. It was a dare." Harry didn't even attempt to tackle the smell comment because even Grawp would recognize that scent as being Hermione.

Neville chose that moment to speak up. "It didn't look like just a dare to me."

"Are you taking the piss?" Harry snapped defensively.

Neville shrugged off his retort."It looked like the kind of kiss that warns other people off."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think she can take care of herself just fine without me warning anyone."

"That may be true Potter, but you're trying to do it anyway," Draco concluded.

Thursday Morning

Charms Classroom

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, in groups of three, use the Charms we've discussed to dismantle disguises and changes unaffected by the standard 'Finite Incantatum.'" Flitwick waved his wand and names appeared as trios on the board. "Please begin."

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes when they found their names: Granger, Malfoy, Potter. Scrapes and scratches sounded throughout the room as students dragged their chairs and desks together to begin the assignment. Malfoy, of course, simply levitated his chair down a level to join them at their table.

"Work smarter, not harder." His evident self-satisfaction elicited reluctant laughs from the Gryffindors.

"Well, Malfoy, you're not wrong," Harry agreed. "So, how are we going to do this? 'Mione, you're the best at Charms of us. You want to change your appearance or something? See if we," he gestured to Draco, "can crack it?"

"Fine with me. Give me –" Hermione looked over the section in the book again, "fifteen minutes."

Draco shrugged. "Works for me." He pulled his book from his bag and flipped to their chapter. "Potter, you have any ideas?" They spoke quietly while Hermione performed non-verbal magic with complex waves of her wand.

"I'm ready," Hermione interrupted. The wizards both took exception to the smug tone in her voice, daring them to break her charms. The trio stood and moved about five feet apart, and Harry and Draco both took in her appearance. She changed the color of her tie from Gryffindor burgundy and gold to Slytherin green and silver, and the patch to the Slytherin snake.

"Hermione, really? You went to Slytherin?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Red and gold really are better on you."

"I don't know, Potter; I sort of like the change." Malfoy playfully leered at her.

"Don't flatter yourself, ferret; it wasn't for you. These very specific changes will be much harder to break than a broad one, like if I'd changed my jumper color or hair color." Hermione's smile bordered on arrogant. "And quite frankly, I don't think you boys can break the charm."

Harry twirled his wand in his fingers. "Think that, do you, 'Mione?" He raised his wand and pointed it at her without giving her a warning. "Majica finis." A stream of pink light hit her with no impact on the tie or badge.

"Nice try-" Hermione began, but before she could finish, another stream of light hit her, this time, purple. Malfoy had sent a spell at her accompanied by a "majica revalabit." There was still no impact on the tie or the badge, but what Hermione could not see, nor did her classmates notice, was that the glamour that covered the brown crescents under her eyes disappeared, and her hair darkened just a shade.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. They clearly expected that their separate spells wouldn't work, so they stepped closer together and, in unison, recited their spells.

"Majica finis."

"Majica revelabit."

The pink and purple strands of light met and intertwined before hitting Hermione in the chest. She staggered back under the impact, her hair instantly darkening several shades. When she lifted her eyes to meet Harry's startled gaze, he gasped; they were grey - like Sirius's eyes.

He turned to Malfoy. "What the fuck did you do, Malfoy?"

"I didn't do anything, you tosser! It was you!" Draco answered, outraged.

Hermione looked at them as if they'd lost their minds. "What's wrong with you two?" She pointed at her tie and badge, restored to their original Gryffindor symbols. "You actually broke the charm."

Harry felt sick. He stepped forward and pulled a lock of hair down from her messy bun. "Hermione, look."

Her skin paled at the sight of the dark brown strand, and none of them bothered to conceal their panic. "Professor!"

Meanwhile

Grimmauld Place

A name appeared below those of Sirius and Mary on the Black family tapestry.

Hermione Pleiades Black

1 January 1980.

But there was no one there to see; Sirius, as usual, was avoiding the room.

Mid-Morning

Headmistress McGonagall's Office

Hermione sat in front of the Headmistress, her distress obvious in her rapidly blinking eyes and bouncing knee. McGonagall noted her right hand, clasped tightly in Harry's, the other holding a handkerchief that she used periodically to blot her eyes. The Headmistress took in the wizards who flanked her. Harry was openly concerned, holding her hand and periodically stroking the back of it in an attempt to soothe Hermione, while Draco sat, outwardly calm, on her left. But McGonagall had been teaching young people for decades; she could see he was unnerved by what had happened in Charms class that morning.

"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you would tell me what happened this morning."

Harry dragged his concerned gaze from the witch at his side. "Prof – I mean, Headmistress, we were discussing advanced disguising charms, how to perform them, and how to break them. We –" he gestured to Draco and Hermione, "were in a group together. Hermione charmed her tie and badge to be Slytherin."

McGonagall looked impressed at the precise nature of Hermione's charmwork. "That would be difficult to break."

"Umm, yes. Well, Malfoy and I knew she'd be hard to beat. I mean, it's Hermione." He swallowed and continued. "So, we decided to try individual spells first, thinking it would soften her work. And so we did." He shook his head. "Nothing much seemed to happen. I mean, I think she looked a little tired after I sent the Majica finis, but it didn't do anything to her badge or tie. Then Malfoy used the majica revelabit. And I didn't see anything then." He looked over at Draco. "Did you?"

"No, not really." Draco paused. His forehead creased in thought. "Well, maybe. I thought it was a trick of the light, but her hair looked a little bit darker. Nothing like that, though." He jerked a finger, pointing it at Hermione's sable tresses.

"Minerva, may I suggest that you call Mr. Black? I believe we will need him here," Dumbledore spoke from his portrait, his eyes twinkling even in death.

McGonagall looked confused. "Why would we need him, Albus? Don't you think the situation is more suited to the healers? I doubt Sirius has anything of import to add-"

"I believe the man would like to meet his daughter, Minerva."

"What?" Hermione's voice was a strangled scream of pain and confusion.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about, Professor?" Harry was normally deferential to everything related to Albus Dumbledore, but this latest blow to Hermione was a stretch too far.

"It is Sirius's story to tell, Harry." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes vanished, and he looked as tired as a portrait could possibly look.

McGonagall interrupted the discussion. "Mr. Malfoy, you are welcome to go about your day. I believe we have everything we need from you at this point." She turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, if you wouldn't mind, would you please Floo your godfather? It seems we need him."

"Headmistress, would you mind if I just go there? I think I need to talk to him." Harry stopped and looked anxiously at Hermione. "Will you be okay? I'll stay with you." He looked back at the elderly witch behind the desk. "Never mind. I'll just-"

"Harry Potter. Really? I'm shocked, not in shock! I'll be perfectly fine." Hermione yanked her hand from Harry's grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. "I want answers, and the fastest way to get them will be for you to go to Sirius. Because he won't react well if all this is true and he just stumbles into it."

Before Hermione could get really going, McGonagall cleared her throat to interrupt. "Miss Granger, I have a few things that we could go over while Mr. Potter is absent. And Mr. Malfoy, I believe I told you that you were free to go."

"Yes, ma'am." Draco was obviously reluctant to leave as he stood. "Granger, Potter." He nodded to his classmates as he began his move towards the door.

Harry stood and made his way to the Floo, but turned around and walked back to Hermione, squatted in front of her, and held both her hands. "Hermione." His voice drew her now-grey eyes to his brilliant emerald green ones. "We'll get through this. I'll never leave you; I'll always come back. Know that."

She gave him a shaky smile. "I do know that, Harry. Thank you."

Harry leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and then pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll be back soon." He stood and swiftly walked to the fireplace; he tossed in the Floo powder, shouted "Grimmauld Place!" and stepped through to Sirius's lounge.

Seconds Later

Grimmauld Place

Sirius was comfortably ensconced in his favorite recliner - a gift from Arthur Weasley - and was reading the Daily Prophet. The Floo activating startled him, and he reached for his wand automatically. Old habits died hard, very hard. But the familiar form of his godson had him relaxing, setting aside the paper and the wand, and standing to greet his unexpected visitor.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" He held out his arms to give the young wizard a hug that Harry briefly returned. "What's wrong? McGonagall wouldn't let you out for fun on a Thursday morning."

"It's Hermione."

"What's happened? How can I help? There was nothing in the paper this morning, so you two must be doing a good job keeping the press at bay." Sirius thought back to the articles that had been appearing with disturbing regularity until just a few weeks prior.

"Maybe you'd better sit down." Harry stopped. "On second thought, do you have a Pensieve around? Because this might be easier for to you see and understand than for me to explain."

That statement earned a truly confused look from his godfather.

"Sure; it's in the library." Sirius lead the way to the small Black family library on the first floor. "Everything alright, though? No one hurt?"

"No, no. Everyone's fine." Harry paused. "Well, I guess. Just-" he huffed out a sigh. "It'll be easier for you to see."

Sirius opened the door to the library and waved Harry in ahead of him. "After you."

The Pensieve sat in a position of prominence on a stand in the middle of the room, at the perfect height for Sirius to view memories. Harry touched his wand to his head and drew out the long, silvery memory and deposited it in the vessel. He watched as Sirius dipped his face into the bowl. It seemed forever, but Harry knew when he reached Hermione's change; Sirius's whole body jerked. And then, when Dumbledore spoke, Sirius stood straight up.

"What the bloody fucking hell!"

"I don't know, but he really seemed to think you would."

Sirius ground his jaw so tightly, Harry would have sworn he heard teeth crack. "I lost my wife and my daughter the night your parents died. This must be some kind of hoax."

"Are you sure about your daughter? I mean, could she have lived?"

He was visibly shaken. "I don't see how she could have."

"Sirius, I know you said we could talk about this later, but maybe if I had the whole story, I could help." Harry reached a hand out to him, but dropped it when Sirius shook his head.

"Come with me." He lead Harry to the tapestry room next door. He strode to it and jabbed a finger at Andromeda's blasted-off image. "Do you see this? This is what happens when Blacks marry Muggle-borns."

But Harry wasn't paying Sirius any attention; he was too busy staring at Sirius's recently restored picture and the line to a pretty brunette witch beside him with a child below. Sirius turned around when Harry made no response.

"Harry, I'm trying to ex-" his voice trailed off. "Fuck. I'm going to fucking kill Dumbledore! I'll rip that portrait off the Merlin-bedamned wall…" his tirade continued as he stalked out of the room, headed for the Floo.

A beat later, Harry tore off down the hall to stop Sirius before he did something truly stupid, like invading Hogwarts and tearing down portraits of dead Headmasters.

"Wait! Wait! Godric damn it, wait, Sirius!" He grabbed his godfather's arm as he reached for a handful of Floo powder. "You can't fucking storm in there like a Death Eater on a charge!"

"Let me go. I need to see my daughter." His voice broke on that last word. "How could this have happened, Harry? She was dead. Her blanket… it was covered in blood. Her blood. And Mary, she was…." Sirius let the tears run and collapsed on the floor.

Harry sank to the floor beside him. "Tell me what happened, Sirius. Please, let me help. Hermione, she needs me; she needs you. We can figure this out."

Sirius let out a huge breath and choked back the tears; he wiped his face with a conjured handkerchief. "I need to get to Hogwarts; we'll sort it out together."

Harry realized he was right; there was no need for Sirius to tell the story more than once, and they did need to get back to Hogwarts. Reaching out for each other, the wizards clasped hands and stood together. Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted "Hogwarts," and stepped through to McGonagall's office, Sirius on his heels.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, I'd love to know. :) I'll be posting Ch. 8 on Bewitching Fiction before it goes up here, as usual. It's with glittergrrrl now, so hopefully I'll get that posted over there this week.