A bit of a short chapter, again, but I'm simply writing this as inspiration hits me, so bear with my muse here.

For long moment, he looked her over again, and the wand he had aimed at her chest made her acutely aware of her own empty hands. The boy... er, man (he didn't look to be more than 20 or 21) seemed to read her mind and nonverbally summoned her wand from the floor and pocketed it, eyes never leaving hers. Her glare intensified as the initial shock from their encounter eased, but she still hardly dared to move.

She noted that his wand still trembled slightly in her peripheral vision.

Finally he broke the deafening silence, his voice nearly as harsh as his stare. "Tell me who you are, you little Ministry bitch, before I leave you rotting on the floorboards like that pathetic excuse for a wizard back there." He jerked his head in the direction of the darkened hallway.

Hermione swallowed hard, her mind racing with questions and hypotheses, a strange sort of wonder filling her expression in lieu of the fear that froze her where she was standing. She realized she could hardly feel her toes, pinched into the narrow boots as they were, and shifted her weight. The man twitched.

"You... killed him." Her vocal cords had finally decided to start cooperating with her again, and she avoided the question, buying herself more time to observe him. His face was drawn, tired, but young and tan, and his resemblance to Sirius was hardly coincidental. He wore a tattered black cloak over a thin gray jacket and a linen, button-down shirt of some unidentifiable color, and, to her amusement, black muggle leather boots with steel toes. And on his neck… a silver chain with a signet ring. Her breath hitched again.

The Black family crest.

"Yes," he bit sarcastically, "I'm well aware of that." He stepped towards her and she moved backwards until she was flush against the shelf from before. Suddenly his wand was poking the hollow of her throat. Hermione grimaced. "And unless you want to end up like him, you're going to stop sizing me up, tell me who the fuck you are, why you're here, and how the HELL you know my father."

Hermione couldn't hold back her gasp and the vein in his temple bulged as he realized what he had said, but he stood his ground and jabbed his wand at her neck again. She gagged a little but found her voice quickly. "What the HELL is going-"

"ANSWER ME!" he bellowed, and for the first time all day, Hermione did the smart thing.

"H-Hermione Granger, sixth year at Hogwarts, I was here buying moonstone powder and…" she gulped as his grip on his wand slackened, hand lowering. Her voice was hoarse. "And Sirius… was a close friend."

In the heavy silence that followed, it seemed necessary for her to add, "And I don't work for the Ministry… I was on my way to an interview for an internship." If anything, that might ease his apprehension since he obviously harbored a grudge there. She was right; his wand was now leveled at her ribs instead of her neck, and she saw his shoulders relax slightly, although his eyes were still piercing and ruthless.

"Granger." He tested the name on his tongue and seemed to retreat into his thoughts for a moment before speaking again. "You're Harry Potter's muggleborn friend."

Hermione nodded warily, watching his expression to see if he would make the connection to Harry and his father. However he only seemed to decide that she wasn't an immediate threat and let his wand hand fall to his side, running his other hand through his black curls in a way that was so characteristic of Sirius, it was startling. "And how, precisely, would you have come to know my father, let alone become friends with a known convict?" he spat bitterly.

Hermione was genuinely surprised at this revelation but tried hard not to let it show on her face. How could Sirius Black's own son not know he was godfather to Harry Potter? But then again, how could he have kept the secret of a son, a SON for Merlin's sake, hidden from the entirety of the wizarding world?

Hermione felt quite lightheaded as she drank in the unmistakable features of Harry's godfather once more. Maybe she'd regain some of the confidence she had lost at wandpoint if she forced herself to pretend that it was Sirius she was addressing, and not her darkly handsome and incredibly pissed off assailant. "I'd be more willing to participate in this… interrogation," she said, "if you might be so kind as to explain who, exactly, you are." She had decided that he wasn't going to attack her, at least not immediately. She hoped that maybe he had gotten it out of his system, as she took the liberty to step closer to his intimidating form. He didn't move, just stared.

That gaze of his was really quite unnerving.

"I don't know why it should mean anything to you, seeing as I'm the one with both wands," he reminded her, an all-too-familiar smirk curling his features under her own petulant stare. But he must have decided to humor her, because with a sneer, he said, "I'm Leo. Leo Black."

His words quickly sank in, and the giggle burst out before she could stop herself. Merlin, what an emotional wreck she had become, crying one moment and laughing the next, especially in the presence of a man who had proven himself capable of murder! But she couldn't stifle the laughs for all she was worth; Leo's features were contorted with confusion and contempt as he watched her gloved hand fly to her mouth in a futile effort maintain her composure. Oh, that was rich. God bless Sirius's sense of humor, he was certainly one in a million.

That vein throbbed in his temple again as he watched her snicker. "Are you mad?"

Hermione ignored him. Leo… it was so perfect. Just perfect. Of course Sirius would have found such a clever way to ridicule the Black family tradition of naming their progeny after stars and constellations… and what a better way to do it than remind them of his affiliation and loyalty to Gryffindor over Slytherin?

She sent a silent thanks to Sirius, wherever he was, and turned her attention back to a not-so-amiable Leo. "Forgive me," she said with a wistful grin, avoiding eye contact. "I think in the past few days I've come to realize that I'm getting madder by the minute."

"A Peace Draught might remedy that," he murmured contemptuously. She scowled at him, her reaction slightly more violent than she had intended, but figured if she really was going to die, then he wouldn't have wasted time exchanging pleasantries.

How could they not have known?

He sat back, his chair squeaking slightly as he brought a leather boot up to rest on the crooked coffee table between them. Leo's arms were crossed in front of him, his wand pointing inconspicuously at Hermione from the crook of his elbow as his gaze bore holes through her postured form.

They had seated themselves in the foyer. She sat pin-straight, ankles crossed, hands in her lap. Her initial tears had dried on her face, but left tell-tale dark spots on her lapel, next to the silver pin. She really, really hated this whole game they had going of staring and silence; she was wound tightly enough as it was. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort though, and simply watched her watch him.

Well, they weren't going to sit there forever, she decided. She took a breath.

"You want to know how I knew Siri- er, your father," she corrected herself, not entirely sure why. It seemed more…. tactful? She didn't know. "Not many people were aware that Harry's parents asked him to be his godfather."

She watched his vein, saw his jaw clench, but she continued. She was only doing what he asked of her, right? He couldn't possibly be mad at her for that. "When Sirius escaped from Azkaban, Harry and I learned that he was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted, and saved him from the Dementor's Kiss. He escaped, lived on his own for awhile…" she hesitated to tell him more. She had likely said too much already. She didn't know what business Leo had here or who he was working for, for that matter.

"That's a pretty risky lie for you to tell, you know," he sneered, catching Hermione off-guard.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not a lie!"

"LEGILIMENS!"

…

"Come on, Harry, three turns should do it…"

Colors and shapes whirled around the two of them as they left Ron protesting in their wake. Suddenly they were in the Great Hall, light still penetrating through the heavy stained-glass windows. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and dragged them into the shadows as their three-hours-younger selves passed them on their way down to Hagrid's hut, looking grim…

…

Ron was being dragged by a large black dog towards the base of the Whomping Willow, his cries of anguish fading as he disappeared below its flailing roots…

…

Snape was sailing backwards through the air, colliding with the rickety four-poster bed behind him and landing in a crumpled heap. Ron was clutching his bloodied leg and moaning, Hermione's hand clapped to her mouth in horror as a skeletal man emerged from the shadows. Waxy, scarred skin, matted hair, haunted eyes…

…

Lupin was rearing, fully transformed, and let out a bloodcurdling roar. Sirius was no longer in human form as he lunged at Lupin, snarling; Snape threw himself in front of the three students, but it was all for nothing, Pettigrew had already escaped…

…

Sirius was soaring away on Buckbeack; Hermione and Harry held each other, smiling as he disappeared into the clouds…

…

Hermione was on the floor, trembling, trying with all her might to force Leo from her mind. She gritted her teeth and gripped the edges of the coffee table. "You… bastard…"

…

They were all sitting, talking, laughing at the dinner table of Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was berating Kreacher.

Sirius was pacing the living room.

Sirius and Hermione were locked in a game of Wizard's chess.

Sirius and Dumbledore. Sirius and Molly. Sirius and Harry.

Thestrals. Running down the aisles of prophecies. "WHERE'S SIRIUS? I KNOW YOU HAVE HIM!"

Bellatrix. Dolohov.

Green light. Sirius, falling backwards through the veil…

…

And she returned to herself. Her face was wet, her nails had created little half-moons in the wood where they had dug into the table. Her head rested on the edge and she knelt there, letting out small, shaky breaths. She didn't look up at Leo's face for a very long time.

"Get up." His voice was harsh, biting. Bitter. He sounded strained.

Hermione lifted her face from the surface of the table, letting the stray curls hang in front of her eyes. She knew she must look a wreck, but she didn't quite care. Her stare matched his; oh, if looks could kill.

"Get up,"he repeated, prodding his wand at her hair. He suddenly had bags under his eyes she hadn't seen before; white knuckles. He gripped the side of his chair to steady himself, and leveled his wand at her with his free hand. A shadow crossed his features as he looked at Hermione, really looked at her for the first time since their encounter; he followed a tear as it pooled in her hazel eyes, slid down her cheek, her chin, fell to her coat.

Hermione used the table to get to her feet, wobbling slightly in her godforsaken heels, and brushed the dirt from her legs and cloak. She brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, willing Leo to stop fucking looking at her like that, humiliating her without even trying. She hated that she couldn't read him and she hated that she didn't know how to feel as she stared down this perfect clone of such a beloved friend… and they really were physical clones, but Leo… Leo was something altogether more sinister, more damaged, darker. She looked at him and saw such a pervasive… blackness. Such an infected soul. Haunted.

Like father, like son.

And suddenly, she was overcome with the need to hear his story.

"You know, I can't let you go," Leo said carefully, taking a slow step towards her. Heel-toe, like she was a deer that would be startled away at the slightest movement. It was almost comical, and yet her heart still froze at his words.

She backed away. "I have an interview," she said uselessly, heart quickening. "I have to get back." Her knees came in contact with the chair and she felt her way around behind it as he edged closer.

"No, you don't." His voice was sterner now, as if he was talking to a small child. "You've seen me. I'm not supposed to exist. No one can know, do you understand that?" He was growing increasingly panicked as she backed away from him.

Panicked?

"I won't say anything, you have my word!" One step back.

"I can't trust you." Another step forward.

"But you can! Just believe me, there are people who can help-" A wall.

Leo closed the distance between them, his face inches from hers, his eyes hard and unyielding. "Don't make me hurt you, Hermione." It was the first time he had said her name, and she really, really didn't like the sound of it on his lips. "I can't let you go free."

"Leo, please…" She was almost begging under his ferocious glare, beginning to panic at the sight of his wand out of the corner of her eye. "Sirius wouldn't want-"

Hermione saw colors.

Then nothing.