A/N: Just got home from a swim! There should be a chapter every day until the end (There are five chapters after this one), though Tuesday's will be later in the day as I have a meeting. Thanks, ladies!
Chapter Twelve
Thunk.
Hermione's forehead fell against the solid oak desk, her cinnamon-coloured curls fanning out around her in a cloud.
"There is no way I can do this," she mumbled. "How am I supposed to fulfill a wish for someone who is dead?"
Apparently, not all wishes disappeared with someone's passing as she had originally expected. She consulted the book from Minerva, and, sure enough, if the wish could still be accomplished or needed to still be accomplished, it remained.
And she had evidence of that.
Held in the palm of her small hand was a coin from Sirius Black. A perfect golden circle.
She glared at it as though it had personally offended her. No ideas were coming to her on how to accomplish this wish, but she figured Harry would be involved.
Harry and Ron were basically taking the year off, which was well deserved, even if it wasn't something of which she was capable. Hermione needed to be doing something.
And it seemed she would be spending the last few weeks in January apologizing on behalf of Sirius.
A wisp of her hair flew up in the air as she huffed. Being a Godmother was not all it was cracked up to be.
She had tried to set this wish aside. She had found it on her first visit to the fountain and she had thought that perhaps it was a mistake and hadn't left yet. Minerva had mentioned it had been some the last Godmother and the fountain stayed dormant in-between them so perhaps it just needed some time to catch up to what was current.
So she put the coin aside once again and focused on some more immediate wishes.
There were times when she would get near where she had put the coins saved for a later date and feel the tingle drawing her closer. She mentally wished the prickling awareness would go away, but there it remained. Finally this morning she was reaching over her bag for a book and it had leapt up, attaching itself to her hand. She could not put the wish off any longer.
But she didn't even know who to apologize to! The coin simply read, "I wish I could apologize." Now, Hermione was no expert on the Marauders, but she had a pretty good idea that there were a lot of people Sirius had upset in his life.
Only one of them, of course, being Severus. But she was fairly certain that was not the hatchet Sirius wished to be buried.
Was it an ex-girlfriend or an old teacher? A family member, perhaps, or one of the Order? Maybe Harry?
She had absolutely no idea, but Harry was the closest he'd had to family, and he had access to Sirius's belongings. Maybe there would be a clue.
Harry had no problem letting Hermione come over. She told him she was doing research on the Marauder era to bring Hogwarts: A History more up to date, and he didn't question her. The Black family as a whole had a huge role to play in the newest chapters of the book, so spending time at Grimmauld place to learn more about the Blacks being here wasn't really off the mark. It could be very easily explained.
"Harry, you don't by chance still have Sirius's things, do you?" Hermione casually asked.
Harry looked a bit chagrined and nodded. "I didn't really know what to do with them. Some things I got rid of, but I couldn't part with the more personal stuff. I never really knew anything about him, and he was one of the last people that had a connection to my dad."
"You still have Remus," Hermione reminded him. "Or even Severus."
"Severus?" Harry grimaced.
"We are colleagues of a sort," she told him shortly as he led her up the stairs to Sirius' old room.
"Weird. And I'm sure he'd have loads to say about my parents but probably not anything I'd want to hear."
"But that doesn't make it less true, Harry," Hermione admonished. She could understand only wanting to learn about the pleasant aspects of your parents, but Harry had put them on a pretty high pedestal and could become rather arrogant about the people he believed them to be. He would be better off learning who they actually were, the good and the bad, from as many sources as he could if he wanted to get a real picture of where he came from.
Harry just shrugged and opened the ancient wooded door, which creaked from disuse as they entered. A thin layer of dust covered everything in the room. It was clear Harry hadn't been in there much since Sirius passed, and Kreacher ignored the room completely. It wasn't for one of the members of the Noble House of Black, after all. Just Sirius.
Hermione cast a light cleaning charm, and she watched with a slight frown as the stream of dust flew out the nearest window. After it was tidy, she went about searching the room for anything that might help her. There were still clothes in the drawers, and she invited Harry into the room to see if there was anything he wanted to keep. He was quite excited to find some of Sirius's vintage Quidditch tees. Under the bed was miscellaneous rubbish, and his closet held most of the objects a man's closet would. Formal robes, old sneakers, odds and ends from his childhood days, but nothing that would aid her. It wasn't until she opened the nightstand drawer that she found anything unusual.
But the brown leather-bound journals looked very promising.
"I'm just going to take these into the library and see if there is anything I can use, okay?"
"Sounds great, Hermione. Lunch later?"
"Perfect," she told him and gathered up the three or four books to read out of his sight.
She lit a few torches and set the books down on a large table to begin reading. She really hoped these were what she was looking for, since she had no idea where to go next.
"Today I'm leaving on the train for Hogwarts..."
Hermione flipped a few more pages.
"James and our new friend, Remus, are heading out to Quidditch tryouts..."
She flipped a few more.
"...and I couldn't help myself. The way he looked said he needed to be taught a lesson or two."
" Here we go," she thought. With a notebook and pen, she started to make notes.
It seemed only a few moments later when Harry, wearing an old shirt of Sirius's, came in to retrieve Hermione from her books. Her head was down, hair tumbling everywhere, as she furiously scribbled on her paper while one of the books from Sirius's room laid open beside her. Harry decided he would bring her a plate instead of bringing her to the table. It was never smart to interrupt her when she was like this.
There were a ton of people, Hermione decided as she took a bite of her sandwich, that Sirius had wronged in his life. And apparently they were all chronicled in his journals.
Sirius journaled, who knew? It seemed that more nights than not, he wrote down a daily log of his adventures (and misadventures) with his friends, starting from the night before leaving on the Hogwarts Express when his mother gave him a new journal as a gift. She had flipped through to the end and saw there was a gap missing when he had been in prison, but it covered when James and Lily were killed and picked up again sporadically after his escape.
There were several that he had wronged, each with a spot on her list and a description of the misdeed, but there was no way to tell which one was the one he specifically wanted to apologize to. She only listed the ones where he had expressed remorse after the action, so she knew it was something about which he had felt guilty. It couldn't be Harry's parents, she thought, crossing them off the list. They were deceased as well.
There were a few others that were crossed off for the same reason but it still left a list of a dozen names.
The only thing she could think to do was to apologize to all of them in his name.
A task she was not looking forward to, she thought as she finished the sandwich and reflected over the list of names. Not looking forward to at all.
Harry gave her leave to bring the books with her back to Hogwarts. She left Grimmauld Place with anticipation and trepidation of her next undertaking. There really were some passages she wanted to transcribe into the notes for the book update. The books were like having an eye-witness interview of some of the events that occurred which had no living survivors.
As she settled in her quarters to start writing a few owls pertaining to Sirius' wish, Hermione reflected that being a Fairy Godmother could certainly take up a good chunk of her time! She took our her special stationary and picked up a Dicto-Quill.
The first few letters were fairly simple. The first to a classmate that Sirius had cursed, Bertram Aubrey. She wrote a short note asking for his forgiveness on behalf of Sirius Black. One or two to a few other random classmates.
A long letter followed to Severus.
Yes, Severus.
She gulped as she put pen to paper, frightened of the reception the letter would receive, but knowing it had to be written.
He had been mentioned several times in Sirius's journals, mostly degrading him or relating tales of their fights. Stories of how the three or four of them would make plans to corner Severus when he would be alone, or complaints about how Severus had been able to get a curse or two off on them for a change.
But there were a few passages, sentences really, that hinted Sirius was beginning to realize the treatment of their classmate was bullying and cruel. That perhaps they were in the wrong and weren't being fair.
The later passages especially reflected on who Sirius was as an adult, and that perhaps he would have been better to try to make friends with Severus instead of alienating him. Severus would have been a powerful ally, in all that he was already a powerful ally that Sirius hadn't even known they'd had until after Azkaban.
There were a lot of transgressions between the two of them. A lot of misunderstandings, and missed opportunities. They were oil and water and she couldn't think of anyone that set Severus off like Sirius did. Not that she knew either real well. She made sure the letter was clear and thorough, signed on behalf of Sirius Black.
When she was finished, she closed the journal with a loud and final thump.
Hermione was ready to leave the room when an owl hastily returned with an indignant, "Hoot!"
"What's wrong?" she asked as the owl flew to a stop on her desk and held out one leg.
It held a charred parchment still smoking in its claw. It didn't take a know-it-all to figure out where that had come from.
With a moue, she sat back at the table and drafted another copy.
"Bring this to Professor Snape." At the owl's distressed hoots, she added, "But don't wait for an answer. I won't even tie it. Just drop it off and leave, okay?"
The owl reluctantly held out his claw for the letter and beat a hasty retreat. Hermione just shook her head and left. Of course he wouldn't accept it at first. She would just have to be persistent. And she was very persistent.
Hiding in the library, she was surprised to see Remus Lupin sitting at a table.
Sitting beside him, she inquired after his health and what he was doing in the castle.
"I'm doing well, thank you. Still no transformations," he said with a smile. "Dora and I are even talking about expanding our family," he added nervously.
"Is that why you're here?"
"No, I'm actually looking to brush up on a few skills. I'm hoping to petition Minerva to get my job back next year. I hear Mr. Weasley was only able to take one year off from his job in Romania."
"That would be wonderful, Remus!" Hermione told him, as she saw a familiar face storming through the library.
"Severus," Hermione said by way of greeting.
"Hermione," he responded. "Lupin."
"Hello, Severus."
"How do you rank first-name basis?" Remus asked as Severus walked on. "I've been trying to get him to call me by my name for years."
Hermione shrugged. "We shared a personal moment."
Remus raised a surprised eyebrow as she realized how that sounded. "Not that kind of personal! I needed to brew a...potion."
"A monthly one? Not Wolfsbane I hope?" he asked her, gently teasing.
"Ha," she told him, her laughter dry. "So anyway, he just told me to drop the title and go brew, and that was that."
"He must care for you deeply," Remus told her, his face solemn. "Severus doesn't open up easily, or often. You must be something special."
Hermione blushed under the praise of her friend and former teacher, and slightly at the implication of a relationship with Severus. "I'm sure he's just trying to turn over a new leaf, now that he doesn't have to put up pretenses. And I just make a nuisance of myself."
"I'm sure he needs a friend," Remus said as an owl burst through the library. It landed in front of Hermione with a screech, showed her his singed tail feather, before turning his back to her and flying away. A few minutes later, a different owl dropped off a short length of parchment and flew off.
"My, aren't you popular?" Remus asked her.
Before she could answer, Severus stomped over to her table. "Was that my owl?" he asked impatiently.
"I'm sorry? I think this is a letter from Harry," Hermione said quickly. "He had to replace Hedwig after, well, you know."
His response was short. "So you didn't send me a letter this morning?"
"Wouldn't you know if I did?" she asked evasively as Remus watched them both.
Severus gave a curt nod. "You are correct. This would not be a trick you would pull. Your companions perhaps, but it's beneath you. Very well then. Good day," he bid them both, while only looking at Hermione, and briskly left the library.
Remus just looked at Hermione after Severus left again.
"What?" she asked.
"Severus has a friend."
"I'll see you later," she told him, quickly rising. "Give Tonks a hug for me."
She would clearly have to be more careful. But first, more letters.
Her coin had not disappeared. She let it rest a few days. Maybe it wasn't Severus that Sirius wanted to apologize to, and when one of the other recipients read and forgave him, the coin would disappear.
But it was still on her shelf.
She redrafted the letter to Severus, and this time she included a preface. It explained that she was a friend of the Blacks who had come across some journals of Sirius's and that it was time to reconsider their relationship. It included some of the lines from the journals themselves, hoping that Sirius's own words would be enough to persuade him to at least read the letter.
No owl was willing to ferry her letter, so she asked Dobby to deliver it for her. She forbid him to tell Severus where it had come from and suggested that he try and deliver it when Severus was gone.
The letter was returned to sender, unopened.
Sending three letters didn't help either.
Nor did sending ten.
It was beginning to remind her of the story Harry told her about trying to receive his Hogwarts letter.
Finally, she sent one single letter. A note was attached to the top, unsealed, that said he would be bombarded in the Great Hall if he didn't read the letter.
She heard nothing for the next few days. It wasn't until they met in the Great Hall that she found out if he had even received it.
"Would you be free this evening? I have something I wish to discuss with you," he told her.
"Of course," she answered immediately, ignoring the little jump in her heart and wasting no time in meeting him as soon as it was socially accepted "evening."
"What did you need?" she asked, taking what was becoming her spot as she watched him pace the floor, still in his black teaching robes.
Hermione loved those robes.
Severus turned on his heel to face her —sitting in his room, feet tucked beneath her, waiting to hear his trouble. A bit of the tension in his chest released, just knowing there was someone ready to listen to his side without a chip on their shoulder, judging him against his past or their agenda.
"Read this," he told her, handing her the letter she had sent a few days past.
Terrified that he had figured out it was her, she didn't respond and just skimmed over the letter. "What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think," he told her, finally taking the seat next to hers. "I know you don't know much of the past, between Black and Potter and me. There was never any remorse. Between any of us. Never an apology. Only hatred. And now this."
"It seems pretty sincere," she offered. "And they obviously went through a lot of trouble to get this to you."
"That is true. I thought I was going to have to start refusing all correspondence. I'm not sure what made me even open it. I knew it was him." His head hung low as he slowly spoke. "I thought this was done. I thought they were gone from my life forever with the death of Pettigrew."
"Remus is still here."
"The wolf," he snorted. "He has never been an aggressor."
"Maybe if you don't consider him a part of that group now, you could stop treating him like it," Hermione told him, keeping her tone gentle and not accusing.
He finally looked to her but didn't respond.
"I think he has been trying to ask your forgiveness for some time, but he doesn't really know how. You aren't really rolling out the welcome mat," she said with a smile, hoping he wouldn't be offended by her frankness.
"I've never really had the occasion to," he told her, his voice gruff. "And never to one of them."
"Well, maybe now you do. Sirius seemed to be realizing that he wasn't being fair, and someone seems to think it's pretty important that you know and perhaps mull it over a bit. Maybe that will open the door to a friendship you didn't think was possible."
"Maybe it will," he told her.
In the days that followed, the coin didn't disappear, but its edges would waver, flickering in and out of visibility.
After a lifetime of hatred, she'd take it.