This chapter is brought to you by the betaing power of Dave. Dave, cus anyone else ain't worth shit.
Silver
Bedlam
Hermione's nightmares had changed.
Before she saw Muggle-borns crying out for help, but now they stared at her in mute silence. Their eyes followed her every step, blaming her for the Dark Lord's victory.
Hissing whispers followed her as long, spider-like fingers closed around her shoulders.
She would wake up in the middle of the night, shaking and sweating as tears streaked her face. Sleep evaded her. Her appetite had gone. Every shadow held sinister secrets. Her waking moments were plagued with the memories of her dreams.
All because of a letter.
An error in judgment or a saving grace - she didn't know anymore.
She'd acted without thinking and as the days passed, the lack of a reply had begun to weigh on her more and more.
In trying to help, she may have damned them all.
Factor in that Harry may never be born or that she herself could be unborn... her nerves were shot to hell.
On the night before her birthday, everything came to a head.
'Hermione!'
The brunette's wide eyes shot to the older witch. Lips parted, she blinked at the tiny woman. Tears fell away and caressed her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away.
When had she started crying?
'That's enough,' hissed Batty. 'I am fucking done with this shite! What's wrong?!'
Hermione had moved her head a fraction when Batty stood, finger pointed at her chest. 'Don't fucking lie to me. You've been on fucking egg shells all sodding week. You've lost weight. You don't sleep. Your fucking magic is acting up!'
The powerful witch gestured to the room at large and Hermione slammed her eyes shut after taking in the room.
Candles flared with colourful fire. Objects levitated and shook. Books and bottles rattled against their cases.
She willed them down. To stop shaking and fall still.
It didn't work. She knew it wouldn't.
Her magic was in tune to her feelings. Her mental state. Attached to that part of her which needed calm.
And inside of her there was nothing but chaos.
The young woman stood. Her legs were shaking. She was weak kneed but still, she moved. To her left, she saw Hooky's ears droop as bulbous, blue eyes followed her every step.
Before her, she saw Batty block her escape.
The sitting room was crowded and she needed to get out. The garden behind her was too small. She needed space.
'Please,' she stammered. Begged with a meek and pathetic voice that gave her pause.
She sounded broken. Lost.
She'd heard it.
Felt it.
Batty watched her. Sea foam, green eyes studied her. They moved over her face, down her body and back up to her eyes. She didn't speak, she simply moved aside.
Hermione's pulse pounded. Her gut ached as dread filled her. She was scared to move.
Scared of whatever challenge Batty was putting her on.
The historian's features faded and blended with their surroundings. Hermione blinked and the woman's worried face came into perfect view.
Batty shook her head and turned. 'Come along Rat,' she said, voice quiet. 'Hermione needs to be alone.'
Her chest burned. A hollow ache making it hard to breathe and swallow. She wanted to scream and cry. Yell and sob.
Instead, she wiped away her tears and walked to her room.
She paused outside the closed kitchen door, hearing the sounds of tea being made. A second's hesitation and she moved past, taking the steps with heavy feet.
The darkness of her room was a welcomed change.
No firelight danced. No items shook. Nothing rattled. If they did, the dark of the night hid them perfectly. The only visible light shone through the window.
Hermione sat on her bed, staring at nothing as fear gripped her and fresh tears fell.
Dark eyes moved to her clock. She'd turned it away sometime in the past few days and with more strength than she possessed, she reached over and faced it to her.
It was gone ten p.m. on the eighteenth of September.
She'd been born at two in the morning.
Hermione sat on her bed and watched as the seconds ticked away.
A blink of her eyes and her heart stammered.
01:57.
Her breaths came in rapid gasps. Tears falling fast as she raised her hands, studying them, panic gripping her.
She was real.
She couldn't just... leave. Disappear. Fade.
Unborn.
No. She was real.
She was.
She was. She was.
Teary eyes darted back to the clock.
01:57.
Those numbers... they were mocking her. Taking from her the last bit of sanity and peace she had before she disa...
No.
No!
Hermione shot up, the door flew open and she ran. Her bare feet pounded against the wooden floor. She ran down the carpeted stairs. The front door opened with a mighty crash, rattling its hinges and shaking the wall.
Hermione ran past the doorway without a backwards glance.
Someone was yelling. People were shouting. There was screaming and noise but she left them all behind her. They didn't matter.
The village blurred past her.
There was a stitch in her side, she couldn't breathe and still she kept running.
Her feet stumbled beneath her, caught on something and she fell.
Hermione made to stand and paused, her whole body shaking as St. Andrew's bell rang the hour.
One chime. And then another.
Wide eyes searched her hands. Panicked hands searched her body. Her body searched itself, waiting for something- anything- to signal the beginning of her end.
'No...' she cried, pleaded. 'No. Please...'
She didn't want to leave. Not like this.
Alone.
A sound reached her and she looked up. A lit wand. A shadowy figure approached.
Death, she thought and for a second, just one second... she didn't care.
She was tired.
The knowledge of her possible death- of being unborn- had carved itself into her being and re-shaped her soul. Nothing else had mattered as the date grew near.
Everything about her had been stripped away and all that'd remained was the wisdom of her circumstance. Of Harry's endangered existence, her possible death, the cause and effect.
The echoes of the bells were still ringing when the figure stepped into the light.
Sirius.
He stood apart from her, wand raised as his eyes darted from her to their surroundings.
He cleared his throat and took a cautious step forward. 'Granger?'
His voice sounded strained. Hoarse.
Through thick tears, Hermione watched him. He still wore the day's clothes. He hadn't gone home.
A sob escaped her. She trembled and bowed on the cobblestone street, clutching at herself.
Hermione heard him move and felt rather than saw the moment he took a seat beside her.
She didn't know how long she cried for. The release had been a welcomed and much needed one.
The hard stone beneath her brought her back from that dangerous edge. She was still here. Alive and real.
The church bell rang again.
One... Two... Three...
Another sob was ripped from her throat. Hermione ran trembling hands down her face. She pushed back her fringe and studied her hands.
They were solid. And firm. Cold. Real.
Sirius cleared his throat again and teary eyes turned to him. He looked away before she could meet his gaze.
A cool breeze moved between them and she shivered.
Hermione looked around, frowning.
She'd never been this far out of the village. The end of the street had led her to a wooded area, the pavement beneath her broken by grass and weeds. Sinister trees stood tall and proud before them- the edge of the forest.
Her heart was pounding away in her chest.
Her body was trembling from the cold.
The adrenaline in her system was failing her.
Her eyes burned.
Her head ached.
Hermione smiled. It was brittle and weak, but it was hers.
Sirius moved beside her and she spoke without thinking.
'It's my birth date.'
From the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her before running a hand through his hair.
'How old are you?' he asked her, his voice kind.
An hour old. 'Nineteen.'
He nodded. Rubbed his neck. Squirmed in his seat.
Sirius cleared his throat, 'Listen Granger... not to interrupt your midlife crisis or anything ... but my arse is hurting.'
The brunette stared at her hands. Studying their shape, taking in their lines. Seeing their scars. Her scars.
They'd always just been there... She'd never really, truly appreciated them until now.
They were the only proof that she'd lived once upon a time. That the life she recalled on those late nights wasn't a dream.
'Hey.' Dark eyes met soft grey.
A larger, warmer hand reached for her own and held it. 'Come on Granger.'
He pulled her up and she let him. Sirius didn't release her hand. He didn't even try. Neither did she.
His booted feet guided her bare ones and she followed without question. Still, she held his hand. The pressure of their intertwined fingers comforting.
A door creaked. The cold stone beneath her feet turned into cool grass as they moved past an old wooden fence.
Suddenly the night was pierced with bright, colourful lights. Purples, pinks, blues, greens and whites. All luminous and glowing, they shone beneath her feet.
Her mouth fell open as her eyes grew wide.
Sirius murmured behind her and she was suddenly aware of how close he was. His heat warming her even though they weren't touching.
'Happy Birthday Granger.'
'Where are we?' she asked him, just as quietly.
'Blossom Grove,' he answered her. 'It used to be an Order safe house, here in the village. This is its garden. Three guesses why it's called Blossom Grove.'
'It's beautiful.'
The flowers at her feet glowed. Their delicate petals shone from within, exposing every intricate detail. Their stems lit a path, guiding them to a clearing. She took a step and the grass beneath her feet warmed and she gasped as she looked down. Small tendrils of white fire reached up and moved between her toes, tickling her.
Hermione gasped. Behind her, Sirius chuckled.
'It's not real,' he said. Gesturing with their intertwined hands to a rose bush on their left. 'Defence mechanism. It's a-'
'Rose-Fire Bush. Harmless fire meant to scare away any threats. The roses are a rare delicacy. They're noted for their sweet flavour. Costs a fortune.'
Sirius nodded, huffing a laugh. 'Yeah.'
He pulled on her hand, guiding them towards the clearing.
Her every step called up the white fire.
'How far does it go?' she asked, looking back at the green bush with orange roses. Its petals mimicking the shape of fire.
'About... here.'
The second he said it, the tickling sensation stopped.
'How did it get here?'
'Previous owner. From what I've been told, every woman who's ever lived here has planted one plant.'
Hermione turned to the house behind them. The small cottage, simple and nondescript. Her eyes darted from the large garden to its vast collection of greenery, both Muggle and magical.
'Whose house is this?'
'My mate's. Well... his mum's. She offered it up for the Order. It was in use until you arrived. When you came along, Dumbledore shut it down.'
The pair moved through the garden, the bottom too far away to see. Above them, a blanket of stars pierced the night. Beneath them, the garden lit their way.
The Marauder guided them towards an old bench. It was small and spindly. The dark wood looked like it would break from a well placed kick.
Sirius didn't stop and she opened her mouth to protest the second he sat her on it. Only to shut up when the wood shifted beneath her as it expanded to make room for him.
A delicious scent reached her and her eyes fluttered shut in response.
Sirius chuckled again. 'Amore Sagrada. Imitates the scent of whatever you're attracted to.'
'I know,' she whispered. 'It's a key ingredient in Amortentia.'
Parchment... Freshly mown grass... Toothpaste... Cool leather...
Hogwarts. Mowing the lawn sat on her granddad's knee. Her mum and dad... the scent she'd related to Ron's keeper gloves.
His scent wasn't as strong as it once was. Once upon a time, it'd dominated the others. Now, it lingered in the background. Proof of her continued existence and a memory of all that she'd lost. She was alive. She should've been grateful and relieved.
Instead, she felt alone.
A heated tear fell from her eyes, cooling against her cheek. Sirius squeezed her fingers and she turned to face him.
His profile was brought into sharp contrast by the combined glow of the plants around them.
His eyes were sunken. He looked tired. Exhausted and sleepy.
'What do you smell?' she asked him. Her tone soft, barely above a whisper lest she disrupted the quiet of the night.
Hermione breathed in deeply, turning tired eyes to the sky. The heat of his hand a reassuring pressure.
Granger's pale, creamy skin was tinted purple-pink and it glowed. She looked otherworldly. Ethereal. Innocent and vulnerable.
The Marauder breathed in deeply and smiled. He shook his head.
'All I smell is your shampoo Granger. Breeze is blowing. I don't really smell the bush.'
He squeezed her hand, nudging her with his shoulder. 'Go on then. What do you smell?'
The witch shook her head and for a moment, he thought that was the only answer he was going to get.
'Books, grass, toothpaste and leather.'
He arched an eyebrow, looking away from her. 'Odd mix that.'
She hummed in reply, still looking at the stars above. It was beautiful. You didn't get many stars in London. His childhood, for the most part, had been deprived of them. Light pollution, Moony had called it. All that Muggle electricity had ruined the scenery, shaped nature and changed it.
He'd been in awe the first time he'd arrived in Godric's Hollow. Damn near speechless when he'd been shown Blossom Grove.
He'd never been much of a Herbologist but this garden, he could appreciate. As a kid, he used to leave Potter Hall in the middle of night and stay here for a few hours. It'd helped with the insomnia and over the years it'd become a sort of safe haven. Then the war started in earnest and magical gardens hadn't seemed all that important.
Until tonight, when he'd seen Granger crumble in on herself.
It'd been unsettling. He hadn't liked it.
Seeing her like that... it wasn't right.
He squeezed her hand. Shifted in his seat and frowned.
He was still holding her hand.
It was going against his decision to have zero contact between them. Until tonight, he'd stuck to it. He'd maintained a professional distance. He spoke only when spoken to. He hadn't teased her. Hadn't so much as tried for a conversation.
For her part, Granger hadn't noticed.
She'd been odd all week. Distracted and somewhere else. It'd suited him fine. And not once had he wondered or cared why.
It'd only bothered him a bit. Almost nothing really.
No one liked being ignored after all.
It'd been a shit week. Frustrating as fuck all and he'd been waiting for it to be over.
He'd planned to go out for a pint after he left her but then no one showed. He'd figured an attack must've happened somewhere. He wasn't surprised. The air had been charged with tension. An extra something that'd made his skin itch.
He'd been fighting off sleep when Granger stormed out of the house, Batty and their house-elf hot on her heels.
He'd chased after her and watched as she fell to ground. As she grabbed at herself and cried 'no' over and over again.
It'd made his chest ache. Made him feel helpless. Fucking useless and... He hadn't liked it. Seeing her like that... It'd hurt.
He didn't understand it. But it had.
It'd torn into him and he'd had to do something.
So he brought her here. To the only place in the while fucking world where he'd found a momentary piece of quiet. Beauty of nature or magically induced, he didn't know and he honestly didn't care. All he knew was that Blossom Grove had always calmed him.
It seemed to be working on her too.
She smiled. It was small and didn't fully form but it looked serene.
She turned to look at him, eyes bright and flushed from tears. The breeze shifted once more and her scent washed over him.
He breathed in deeply and squeezed her hand. Acutely aware of her palm. Of its warmth and softness. Of how perfectly aligned to his it was.
He looked away.
Scowling at a naked, little gnome who'd appeared out of nowhere. Granger snorted and he felt his lips curl. His frown melting away.
Sirius nodded at the cherry blossom tree in the distance. 'There's an Apparation point underneath those hanging branches. Dumbledore made it for the twins and me to use.'
She didn't say anything. So he kept talking.
'You see that cactus? I sat on it once for a dare. A very pretty healer had to pick thorns out my bollocks and arse for hours. It was the most sexually arousing and confusing moment of my life.'
He pointed at the Rose-Fire Bush. 'I had my first kiss next to that damn plant.'
Sirius felt her eyes on him. 'Oh?'
'Yeah,' he said, nodding. 'I was thirteen and this girl, Carla, had been driving me mad for months. Sometime during the school year her mum and dad had gotten divorced and she and her mum were moving. I asked her out, we met in the fountain at midnight and I brought her here. A Muggle girl in a magical garden. I was smooth like that.' Granger huffed a laugh but he ignored it. 'She gave me a goodbye kiss and then she ran. Never saw her again.'
The Marauder leaned back on the bench. He licked his lips, staring at a spot underneath a tall white tree with purple leaves. Pulses of light moving through the tree trunk.
'My mates and I used to sit underneath that tree for hours. Plotting world domination.'
Granger shifted beside him, he could still feel her dark eyes on him. She hummed.
'Well... as much domination as four hormonal teenage boys could. Really it mostly consisted of us thinking up ways to get drunk and laid. Running wild was sort of our thing.'
But then the war kicked off and they'd been forced to grow up far too quickly.
They'd all planned to visit Europe after Hogwarts. Had even planned on visiting Switzerland for Moony. That country was the only one on Earth that gave werewolves equal rights and freedoms. They'd talked of moving there once.
A tour across the world. Live in Switzerland for a bit. Somewhere along the road Jamie and Evans were going to get married. They'd settle in England. Have kids and they'd grow old while he and the other Marauders spoiled the ever loving fuck out of the sprogs.
Voldemort hadn't really factored into that vision.
Reality was a bitch.
And why the fuck was he telling her things? Why was he still holding her hand?
He glared at his boots.
She squeezed his hand.
His eyes shot up and caught her own.
'Keep telling me?' she murmured. Her voice soft, almost a whisper. 'Please?'
He couldn't have denied her even if he'd wanted to.
Sirius settled in. Stretched his legs and waited for the wood to morph itself into the contours of his body.
He smiled. 'What do you want to know?'
'Anything,' she said, getting comfortable.
He talked well into the night. And then he talked some more.
He told her stories about Hogwarts and the Marauders. He didn't mention the fact that if she'd really been at school with him, then she would've known some of them.
That wasn't important though. If anything, it was a minor detail and nothing else.
St. Andrew's bell tolled as the hours ticked by. Twilight gave way to dawn and as the morning rays peaked over the horizon, his voice started to give. For her part, Granger had listened and smiled. Randomly squeezing his hand and causing a jolt of awareness to rush through him each and every time.
He should've let go. He shouldn't have kept holding her hand. The thought never turned into action though.
Granger yawned and he stretched, breaking the comfortable silence.
'We should go.'
The witch nodded, rubbing her eyes. 'I'm knackered,' she yawned.
'Me too,' he replied. Stifling a yawn with a fist. 'Come on.'
Sirius pulled her up with a tug of his hand and paused at her shifty eyes. She bit her bottom lip and shuffled from one bare foot to another, looking uncomfortable and awkward as fuck all.
'Spit it out.'
'I need the loo.'
He snorted and walked towards the cottage. 'This way Granger.'
A tap of his wand on the doorknob and the back door sprung open with a slight squeak.
Bare walls greeted him. Dust particles moved before his eyes, floating in the rays of morning light.
It'd been years since he'd been inside.
Blossom Grove was the starter home for every newly married Potter. With the exception of James, all of his ancestors had been born here.
When he and Evans married, they would be given the cottage. And with the birth of their first heir, a plant would be added to the garden.
Mrs Potter had planted the Rose-Fire Bush herself. A difficult plant to grow and delicate to maintain, it was a highly coveted and prized possession. He was sure the symbolism had absolutely nothing to do with her choice.
Sirius pointed at the stairs with their joined hands. 'Up the stairs, third door on the left.'
He didn't know who let go first. If she let go of his hand or he, hers. Or if it was a mutually in sync thing. He still felt the loss. His warm hand cooled and with a tight lipped smile, she moved past him.
Slate coloured eyes studied the room.
Wooden floors, old wallpaper, minimal furniture. No photographs. Nothing to personalize the building.
The perfect image of an Order safe house.
It was a far cry from the warm homecoming he usually received.
Most people had camp outs in their backyards. Tents and shit. But not James Potter. No, spoilt shite that he was, he was allowed full run of a cottage. All he had to do was ask, invite the Marauders over and done.
All those summers and holidays spent running around and destroying this damn place. Scorch marks where a spell had hit. Random duels over honour, duels over who ate the last bit of bacon. Loud and dirty, that's what he'd remember.
Not this empty shell.
He turned his back on the room and stepped back outside. Watching as the garden surrendered its last signs of magic and became Muggle once again.
At least some things didn't change.
It was Granger's birthday. He frowned as golden light pierced his eyes. Burning them and blinding him.
A sudden thought sprung to mind as he shielded his eyes with a hand.
Sirius looked to the Rose-Fire Bush, thinking.
It was a beautiful plant. Once plucked, the orange rose's flames burned and stayed burning until the rose became ice and melted away.
The trick Sirius is to put a stasis charm on it three seconds after plucking it. The rose will forever burn but it'll never freeze or melt. A beautiful gift for a beautiful girl don't you think?
He'd snorted at Mrs Potter but now that he thought of it, Granger might appreciate it.
The magical properties alone would interest her. Not to mention that it was actually quite pretty. Plus, it was her birthday. Everyone deserved at least one gift on their birthday.
He reached for the rose and counted. After three seconds, the orange bloom's flames danced between his fingers. He moved back to the door and waited.
He jumped when a crack rang out.
His wand was out within seconds. In a flash it was up and aimed at the Apparation point.
No one was supposed to come this early.
The Marauder blinked when he saw the flash of red, disheveled hair, charred clothes and an angry scowl.
'What the fuck are you doing here Black?'
He didn't lower his wand. Partly because he still didn't know what was going on and also because the longer it was aimed at him, the longer it annoyed Gideon.
'Waiting on you of course.'
The twat glared. He smiled. Then he winked. The orang-utan stalked towards him, stopping when his chest met the tip of Sirius' wand.
'Don't fuck with me boy. I'll fucking end you.'
Sirius believed him. That mad gleam in the shorter wizard's eye wasn't lying. Any normal wizard would've been afraid and cautious. Unfortunately for him, he was a tad bit reckless.
'What's wrong mate? Your hand break up with you?'
As soon as the words left his mouth, his back met the wall. He grunted at the impact, heard the rattling of windows and watery eyes stared down the ginger.
He shoved him back and Gideon barely moved. His muscle outweighing Sirius' height.
'Your little brother was there tonight,' he hissed. 'Wearing that fucking mask of his.' Blue eyes watched him through slits. 'And I almost killed him. Had my wand aimed at his back and the little fuck didn't even know it. He just stood there... torturing a Muggle. Laughing.'
Sirius pushed him off, punching him in the face.
Reggie... had been laughing?
Gideon stumbled but quickly righted himself. A humourless laugh escaped him as he wiped at his bleeding mouth.
'A whole village in Wales. Dark Marks as far as the eye could see... Not all of them died though. Some Muggle saw Death Eaters taking away young girls and boys... Benjy was in full form tonight. Brought down eight of the bastards.' He spat blood at Sirius' feet, almost hitting his boots. 'Know why I didn't kill Black Jr? Cos I'm waiting for you to be there. So you can watch him die.'
If he'd had a retort, it died in his throat.
He wanted to argue and defend his idiot brother but … how could he? There was nothing he could say. His brother was a Death Eater. So he stood there like an idiot and listened.
'It's nothing more than you deserve you fucking Death Eater spy-'
'Shut. Up!'
Sirius blinked, staring at Gideon's open mouth.
Granger walked out of the cottage. Tears streaming down her face, furious eyes trained on the shorter wizard. Her whole body vibrated with barely restrained anger.
'H-how dare you?!' she spat. Moving between them, standing in front of him, facing down the twin.
Sirius almost felt bad for the bloke. Almost.
'Hermione...? Wh-?'
'Shut up! How dare you speak to him like that! Who the hell do you think you are?'
Gideon clenched his jaw, glaring at him over the top of her head. He looked back down at her. 'What are you doing here with him?'
'That's none of your damn business.'
'Actually, it is.'
Granger didn't back down. 'No, it's not.'
Sirius saw the ginger flex his hands. 'It's not safe being out with him. He's not trustworthy Hermione.'
The witch laughed. He may have imagined it but it sounded an odd mixture of incredulous and bitter.
'I think I'd know better than you Gideon.' She took a step towards him, 'Don't forget who I am.'
Granger glared at the stocky wizard, daring him to argue. He didn't though, he just looked between the pair of them. His mouth opened and closed. He shook his head.
She hadn't said much but her words had had a definite impact.
Confused, Sirius stared at the back of her bushy head.
Who the fuck was she that she'd shut Gideon up so thoroughly?
'I-I'm not wrong,' said the orang-utan.
'Yes you are.' Granger moved, stood on her toes, whispering into the ginger's ear. 'You're wrong about his brother too.'
His chest tightened. He felt his eyes grow wide. Sirius barely registered that she'd grabbed his hand and pulled him away.
They were crossing through the cemetery when his brain finally clicked. Dazed, Sirius pulled on her hand. She stopped looking back at him.
'Siriu-?'
'What the fuck was that?'
Granger bit her lip before looking away. 'I don't know what you're ta-'
'Don't fucking lie to me! You just told Gideon that he's wrong about me and my brother!'
Weary eyes watched him. She didn't say anything and he wanted to fucking shake her.
He pulled on her hand, bringing her towards him as he took a step forward. 'Hermione.'
'Trust me.'
He blinked, frowning down at her. 'What?'
'Trust. Me.'
Sirius shook his head.
'Please,' she said. Wide eyes focused on his. Granger squeezed his hand between her own. 'I told you once that I knew things. Things I couldn't tell you. You asked me to trust you... now I'm asking you. Please, Sirius. Just... trust me.'
She was asking far too much of him. She'd just defended him against Gideon's accusations. Then she'd defended Reggie. A bloke she'd never met and one he'd never want her to cross paths with.
The Marauder shook his head.
She shook hers too. 'Sirius,' she pleaded. 'Please.'
Granger looked desperate. Her eyes urged him to agree.
He should've told her to fuck off.
He should have pulled his hand away.
Instead he nodded. Reluctantly, but he did. 'Okay.'
Her answering smile was full of warmth. As frustrated as he was, he couldn't deny the satisfaction of seeing it on her face again.
Granger was a fucking mystery. Who knew shit and apparently knew enough about his family situation to defend Reggie.
He had to trust her though. He'd asked her for the same thing and it was only fair that when asked to do the same he did.
He nodded at the witch and they continued their walk.
Where Gideon was, he didn't fucking know or care. If the idiot was his relief then he could take over after he'd seen her to her door.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his fringe.
How did she know about Reggie?
He'd never mentioned him to her. He'd never spoken of his family in fact.
Yes, the Blacks were well known. Their fanaticism too but Reggie? No, he didn't really talk about the idiot.
'Sirius?'
'Hm?'
'We're here,' she said, pointing at the door.
He blinked. He didn't remember walking through the village.
'Listen. Sirius,' she began what he felt would be a bunch of useless and placating words, void of substance. 'I know-'
Sirius frowned at his boots before spotting Batty's potted plants. Suddenly remembering what he'd been doing before Gideon interrupted him, he lifted his hand.
'Happy Birthday.'
She gaped and he grinned.
He'd surprised her and made her speechless.
Definitely fucking worth it.
The witch accepted the rose with a confused little smile.
'Thank you,' she said, still smiling.
'No problem Granger,' he nodded at the door. 'Go on. Kip for a bit.'
She was still looking at her rose when she nodded and turned, shutting the door behind her.
He was a bit smug, he had to admit. Her reaction had been well worth it.
Sirius took his usual spot, waiting to see when or if Gideon approached. His mind going over everything that'd been said and hinted at.
He pulled out his lighter, fags and flask.
He lit his cigarette and exhaled, then sipped his drink and stared up at her window.
She hadn't asked him how he'd been able to hear her whispered words.
A/N: Hey ;). It's Dave.
Erica's feeling a bit under the weather unfortunately so I'm updating Silver for her. She doesn't even know I'm doing it. It'll be a surprise. I'm lovely I know, I'm aiming for a world's best beta t shirt. Maybe a mug.
Chapter's not too long or too short I think. It's just about right. Certainly pleased Erica. She was a bit iffy on the content mind. Thought her plans might be too big and not fit in the chapter. But we took our time, I calmed her nerves and once she was relaxed we came to a mutually satisfying finish.
It was beautiful really. A real bonding moment.
I reiterate, she doesn't know I'm updating for her so please be kind to our migrainey Erica and drop her a review. Also make sure to let her know she's a lucky woman to have a boyfriend/beta as wonderful and thoughtful as me. And that I behaved.
I'm not afraid of her or anything. .. but having a 5'4 latina pissed at you is fucking unpleasant.
On the plus side, my Spanish swearing is coming along nicely.
Anywho, thanks for reading, please review.
Laters,
Ericave