Many wonderful and grateful thanks Dave (TheUnrealInsomniac) for his beta work. You've put up with many a mistakes and an abundance of unnecessarily intentional commas, as well as Americanisms and for that you are appreciated. Thank you love. Go read his work dear readers, you can find him in my faves lists.
Another special thanks to jasperandgemma over on tumblr for her beautiful fan art, which was pretty spot on in terms of capturing the intensity I aim to convey. Many, many thank you's to you. Go check it out my dears, either on her blog or mine or in the sirimione tag.
Silver
Storm
Sirius watched Granger with the patience of a seasoned veteran.
Over the past few days he'd studied her face, her every move and muttered word. It'd gotten to the point where he could close his eyes and perfectly envision her face. Had he wanted to, Sirius could have easily traced her every feature onto parchment.
Whatever it was that'd bothered her last week, seemed to have passed but she wasn't back to her usual pain in the arse self. Granger was reserved and her usual spark was gone. Her eyes were red rimmed and the dark smudges beneath her eyes were far too telling.
Granger wasn't happy but it was better than how she'd been that night.
Their routine returned and though he should've been grateful, there was no denying that it left a bad taste in his mouth.
She was quieter and when she did speak, she was polite and straight to the point. Please and thank you. It was all too fucking formal and he didn't like it.
His promise to himself kept playing in his mind though, so he'd left it alone. But by the end of Monday he'd had enough. It was Friday now and he knew without a doubt that he was well and truly going to die of boredom.
Granger Watching had proved uneventful. He knew her patterns far too well now so it didn't entertain for too long.
Brewing and dicing was too damn repetitive and boring as shit and there was no damn way he was going to go through the post.
Another week passed. Nothing changed and his frustration with her got worse.
Sirius looked at Granger with a side glance. She was reading a letter held between her hands, a small frown pulling at her brow.
That job needed patience that he did not have or could ever possess.
The witch was muttering under her breath and he strained to hear. His senses weren't sharp at the moment and with a mental note to transform as soon as possible, he turned to the witch.
'Sorry?'
Granger's eyes moved up and caught his own before flitting back down. She shook her head, clearly distracted. He sniffed.
She didn't answer him, not that he'd expected her to, so he returned to his chopping. The silver blade hitting the wood a bit harder than intended.
Sirius bit his bottom lip.
She hadn't asked him how he'd heard her.
Again.
For a fortnight, he'd been answering to her whispers and she had yet to notice or ask how he was doing it.
It was suspicious and unsettling as fuck all but there was no way of bringing it up without arising suspicion back onto him.
How was he to explain away weeks' worth of examples and detailed conversations? He couldn't. He was fucked.
So he handled it the best way he knew how. With inner grumblings and sarcastic comments.
The sound of her seat scraping across the floor rang through the room and he watched as she stood and made her way upstairs. She was sniffing a letter for some damn reason and he blinked. With a long suffering sigh, he followed behind her. His feet dragged up the stairs and they stopped mid step when he found her bent over, rummaging through a basket filled with dried herbs.
Granger had a nice arse.
A tilt of his head, raised eyebrows and a thorough study had him sure of the fact. Her arse was definitely nice to look at. He'd noticed it before of course, he was a bloke, and had grudgingly allowed himself to glance every so often.
But with her bent over like that? It was fucking obvious.
The witch straightened and sniffed at an herb in her hand. A frown, a slight shake of her head and bent at the waist once more.
He didn't bother to pretend that he wasn't looking. If the Marauder was honest with himself, he felt he deserved having a bit of a stare.
After everything he'd been forced to go through, he'd earned a stare. That it happened to be Granger was beside the point.
He was nineteen, almost twenty, and he hadn't gotten laid in over three months. He'd damn well deserved this. So he looked and fucking enjoyed it.
The witch stood and turned, a yellow herb held up to her nose. A soft smile pulled at her lips and Sirius felt his own twitch in response.
Grey eyes took her in.
Soft, plush lips. Large, whisky coloured eyes. Smooth, creamy skin. Beautiful, mad curls.
Sirius licked his bottom lip.
Granger had curves. Round hips and softness in all the right places. While her tits weren't big, when the rest of her looked like that, he didn't really care.
Sirius swallowed thickly, looking away as a familiar urge pulled beneath his navel.
He willed away his rapidly forming erection.
He needed pussy. It'd been too fucking long and with Granger … he just had to get laid soon. Being in a constant state of arousal was ridiculous. Which was confusing as fuck because the only woman he was around was her. They would be sat, doing nothing and his bloody dick would get hard for no reason.
The weirdest erection came when Granger had laughed and he'd physically reacted. It'd been odd and difficult to manoeuvre as they'd been walking through the village at the time. Hard cocks and functioning legs being difficult to coordinate.
The dog animagus cleared his throat as he studied a pink jar with floating herbs in it. A strong scent of cinnamon surrounded it and he fought the urge to sneeze.
Snivellus doing an ostrich feather dance. Gideon and Moody kissing. Marlene telling him she loved him.
Sirius shook his head, a shiver running down his spine. Stuff of nightmares that.
He sat on a nearby stool and waited as Granger moved to another bookshelf, still sniffing that damn herb. She seemed to be trying to guess its scent.
He frowned as his mind drifted to the argument he'd been having with himself throughout the week.
She couldn't be a Seer.
There was no way. Seers, real Seers, were rare. Rarer than rare. He'd read an article once that had done statistics on the subject and apparently one Seer was born every seven generations.
He doubted she was this generation's Seer.
But then again, his mind countered, she said she knew things. Things she couldn't say. And so she'd been hidden away. Watched over by him and high ranking Order members, under the careful eye of Albus Dumbledore himself.
She frightened Moody. Or worried him at least. Either way, something about her unsettled the seasoned Auror.
What could she know?
A lot about him apparently. He couldn't shake the feeling that she knew about Padfoot. The idea was ridiculous of course but now that he'd looked back on it, certain things stuck out at him.
She hadn't questioned his ability to see that night with the mushrooms, regardless of the fact that it was pitch black. To this day she had yet to ask how he'd heard her whisper into Gideon's ear. On one occasion, she'd watched him pet a dog and there had been a small, amused smile pulling at her face. At the time, he'd thought it'd been for the puppy but now, he wasn't sure.
She'd definitely called him Snuffles.
Which meant that she knew about Padfoot.
A crack of thunder echoed around them and he blinked, catching himself.
So what if she knew?
It was Granger and what was one more thing in comparison to whatever fuck else she knew? Besides, he thought, it was a small exchange in the grand scheme of things.
She knew about Padfoot. In return, she trusted him with her life.
The witch moved to the back of the shop, away from his line of sight and he followed behind her.
The Marauder pulled back his fringe. She couldn't be a Seer. They knew the future, not the present.
Sirius studied the herbs and jars and books as he passed the narrow walkways. The scent of potion ingredients potent. He wrinkled his nose and stopped mid-step.
The dog animagus squinted at a jar with purple and blue flower petals, near his shoulder.
Hydrangea.
His eyebrows shot up and he reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his bit of newspaper as he counted the letters in the word. Nine in total.
A colourful Muggle flower known to have magical properties in potent quantities. Used by potioneers to extract lower dose poisons from the body. Nine letters.
It fit but he didn't know if the flower was Muggle. He walked towards Granger, random noises she made guiding him.
He found her stood on a stool, reaching for a box on a high shelf. She was still about an inch too short unfortunately.
He put his crossword away as he made to help her.
'Granger,' he called. Moving her aside as he reached for the box, 'Are Hydrangeas Muggle?'
Dark eyes squinted up at him, an amused frown stared him down. 'Yeah,' she said. A confused little smile pulling at her lips. 'Why?'
He watched her mouth and felt the corner of his lips curl. 'I'm doing a crossword and I think it's the word I need, but I wasn't sure if it was Muggle. Thought it was magical.'
The witch shook her head. 'No. They're Muggle. Wizards found its magical properties by accident. Most people think it's magical because of it but no.'
'Ah.' He nodded, pulling out his newspaper and unclipping his Muggle pen from it. Tongue between lips, he wrote down the word and smiled triumphantly. He'd finished it.
He showed it to her, a wide smile on his face.
She laughed, studying the paper he held up and opened her mouth to speak when a bell rang.
The petite witch grabbed him by the shirt and a grunt escaped him as his spine met shelf with an audible thump. The bookshelf creaked but didn't move.
'Gr-'
'Shut up!' She hissed, her head turned to the side.
'Hermione?'
His eyes shot towards the front of the shop. His line of sight was blocked by bookshelves. He couldn't see him, but Sirius recognised the voice as Tony's.
'Tony!' Shouted Granger. 'I'll be there in a second. Just stocking up a bit!'
'Need help?'
'Nope. I'm good. Almost done.'
'Nonsense,' said the older bloke. 'Where are you?'
Footsteps echoed around them. Granger turned to him, panicked eyes piercing his own. It was after hours. The shop was closed, he wasn't supposed to be here.
She stood on her toes, whispering in his ear. 'Where's your cloak?'
He shook his head. He didn't wear it anymore. So he didn't carry it around.
Granger glared at him and he felt that same stirring from before.
Tony's steps got nearer and she pressed into him a bit further as if she would be able to shield him.
Sirius swallowed thickly. Suddenly very aware of her breasts pressed up against his chest. Her soft body nice against his hard one.
Granger was talking and she was shoving at him but he couldn't move.
Wide eyes stared at her.
Looking to his left, her whole focus was on Tony. Sirius' whole focus was the creamy skin of her neck.
He licked his lips and the thought formed in his head before he could stop it or truly understand it.
He wanted to kiss it. To press his lips beneath her ear and caress the soft flesh.
His dick got harder. Tony was getting closer. She pressed into him further and Sirius reacted without thinking. He pushed the petite witch away. A rush of cool air hit him and he both revelled and mourned the loss of her heat.
Granger stared at him, a confused frown on her face.
Their eyes met for just a second but it was long enough.
Eyes bright, face flushed, chest heaving, lips parted.
She looked fucking glorious and he imagined a similar reaction in a different setting.
His need grew at the mental image and the truth of his predicament hit him like a freight train.
Sirius swallowed thickly.
Silver eyes moved to her lips and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands through her curls as he thrust into her. Her panting breaths tickling his ear as she moaned his name, over and over again.
Granger moved and his eyes followed her.
She stopped as she turned the corner and he heard Tony gasp and laugh. Granger's own laugh was forced, he could tell. Her real laugh tinkled, this one was strained.
The witch moved, leant on her right foot and in doing so forced Tony to move. The blond's broad back blocked Granger from his view and Sirius slammed his eyes shut.
He heard them talk but their words didn't register. It was all background noise, secondary to the rushing sound of his heartbeat.
From the corner of his eye, he saw them move away and Sirius slid down the bookcase. Running trembling hands through his hair.
'Doesn't mean anything,' he muttered to himself. 'It doesn't mean anything.'
The drop in his gut called his bullshit.
Sirius closed his eyes, slamming his head against the shelf.
'What was that?' he heard Tony ask and Granger's answering voice reached him soon after.
'I didn't hear a thing.'
She moved the conversation along as Sirius slumped into a more comfortable position.
He stretched out a leg, propping his elbow on his bent knee.
He'd imagined fucking her.
It was logical, he reasoned, for that to happen. It'd been far too long since he'd had sex and the only woman his age around him was her.
It didn't mean a fucking thing.
He didn't fancy her.
Sirius scoffed at the idea and stopped almost instantly.
Bit shit if you shagged the girl you're protecting.
James' warning echoing in his head. A cold chill ran down his spine. The likely possibility that that was his mate's last bit of advice hitting home.
He'd warned her about Granger. Had suspected this and probably would've decked him for it.
Sirius shook his head.
No.
He didn't fancy Granger. His physical reactions were just that. Nothing more. He'd have reacted the same to any reasonably attractive woman in these circumstances.
He heard the faint sound of the bell chime, followed by the sound of approaching steps. He stood and turned to face Granger.
The petite witch smiled at him and his ever present erection, throbbed.
'That was close,' she said and he inwardly swore.
The sinking feeling in his gut intensified and he unwillingly acknowledged the truth of his situation.
He wanted her.
Hermione yawned as she made her way downstairs. It was seven o'clock in the morning, on a Monday and life was horrible.
It had rained all weekend and today looked to be no better. The rain had settled at the moment, but the distant rumble of thunder and the dark grey clouds promised more rain to come.
It set her already crappy mood into a rapid spiral.
She was tired. Exhausted and drained. Her lack of sleep was taking its toll and she knew she was going to crash sooner rather than later. It was inevitable really.
After weeks of broken sleep, her body and mind had reached their limit. Honestly, if the potions weren't needed she doubted she would've been this dedicated a worker.
Another yawn as she ignored the dull ache between her eyes. She really was tired. She needed sleep.
Unfortunately, nothing she did worked.
The nightmares came and she would wake and her mind would race over her damned letter until sleep overtook her only to have the process repeat itself.
She'd made a mistake. She'd acted without thinking and as the days passed and no reply came... she was scared. Worried out of her bloody mind and it did not help that James Potter was still missing.
It was out of her hands unfortunately and short of her going out to search for him, there was nothing she could do about it. And to do that would be to be foolish. If James Potter was dead, and her belly ached at the thought, then Harry Potter would never be born. There would be no prophecy and no future worth fighting for. Voldemort would win. Her memories were the only thing that would save them and to go out and risk capture would be an unnecessary danger.
Really, if she was honest with herself, she was waiting for the eventual confirmation that James Potter was dead.
It was an unsettling thought. One that was painful and that she did not like to think about, but one she needed to consider a possibility.
Things had changed and as she'd told Dumbledore, ignoring it was the real danger.
She ran a hand over tired eyes and with a sigh, she pushed open the kitchen door.
At least, she thought, her morning couldn't get any worse.
Hermione shuffled her way into the kitchen, muttering a half-hearted, 'Hi.'
She picked up a mug and the kettle, nearly dropping them the second the unexpected voice spoke behind her.
'Hello Hermione. I hope this morning finds you well.'
She turned. Eyes wide and mouth gaping.
Dumbledore was sat at the kitchen table, beside a smiling Hooky. Her heart stammered and the room grew hot as she noticed the letter on the table.
She'd been hoping for a response but now that she would have one, she didn't want it.
Hermione didn't want to hear what the powerful wizard had to say.
She'd made a mistake sending that letter. She shouldn't have done it. Because of it, she would now have to face the consequences.
There was no way she was going to make it easy for him though.
Hermione averted her eyes. Bit her lip. Looked at the items held on her hand.
'Miss Granger?'
Her eyes watered as her heart beat against her chest.
She shouldn't have sent that letter.
'Hooky?' said the Headmaster. 'I need to speak with Hermione. May we have some privacy please?'
She didn't hear him reply but the scraping sound of chair on floor was answer enough. As was the silent click of the door.
'Please take a seat Hermione. We have much to discuss.'
His words were quiet. His tone, amiable. His request, friendly. No outward sign of displeasure.
Dark eyes moved to the letter and she swallowed thickly, setting down her things. Slow steps saw her seated seconds later.
She didn't look up. The fear of meeting his eyes was overwhelming.
An aged hand reached for the letter and her heart constricted. Her breathing came in short bursts. Heat flashed up and down her body. Her hands trembled and she squeezed them tightly, moving them to her lap.
'Do you know what this is Hermione?'
She didn't answer. Physically couldn't. Her throat was locked and breathing was an impossible thing at the moment. She blinked and tears fell down her face.
She shook her head once- a clumsy affair that revealed her lie.
'I think we both know that's not true. And that we both know why I am here.'
They did.
She met his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away. Eyes back on the letter he held mockingly between them.
Hermione had the distinct feeling that he was toying with her. Teasing the truth out of her, waiting for her to blurt out the facts of her mistake. He already knew the truth, he had her letter in his hands, why then was he playing this game?
Was it a show of power? Evidence that he knew all and had absolute control of her life?
She wouldn't put it past him... but then again, she thought, he wouldn't be this cruel.
The powerful wizard spoke, breaking the silence.
'Batty tells me,' he said, raising the letter. 'That you had a breakdown.'
Her head shot up and met his eyes. She blinked, quickly looking away as more tears coated her cheeks.
Memories of her birth date flooded her, flashed through her mind, engulfing her.
Her chest constricted and silent tears fell fast and hard.
Dumbledore didn't speak or attempt to coax the answer out of her and it was that which gave her the courage to reply.
'It was my birth date.'
The powerful wizard fiddled with the letter- standing it on point and spinning it. Still, no response.
'I was-' she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Now that the fear and moment had passed, she felt ridiculous admitting it but... 'I was scared.'
'Understandable,' he replied, his tone matter of fact.
'The closer the date came, the worse it got and...'
And what? She had nothing else to say. Hermione shook her head, heat flooding her face, drying her tears.
She opened her eyes, focusing on his hands. Dumbledore dropped the letter.
'Your situation is unique Hermione. It is quite reasonable that you would have doubts of your continued existence on the date of your birth. I would have been more worried if you hadn't.'
Relief flooded her. He hadn't thought her silly or idiotic.
'I admit to having had my own reservations and am likewise relieved that they were proven wrong.'
She fiddled with her hands, eyeing her fingernails.
'I thought I would fade,' she whispered.
Tears blurred her vision. She blinked, quickly wiping them away.
'Again, a reasonable assumption.'
More lifesaving and soul soothing validation. She wept a bit more, silent tears and quiet sniffles.
'I have met a few exceptional people in my life Hermione. You my dear are above them all. That you have adjusted as well as you have...' he shook his head. 'It is an impressive feat. However, that is not to say that you are not allowed to stumble every so often. That you pick yourself up and push onwards, that is inspiring.'
She wiped away her tears.
'Did Croaker ever say...?'
His long beard swayed as he shook his head. 'He had mentioned it as a curiosity but not as a caution. Professor Croaker was undoubtedly interested for his own reasons.'
Hermione hummed, remembering the odd potato man. She didn't doubt the Headmaster's words.
'However,' he said a bit loudly, straightening himself in his seat. 'This is all behind us now. While we do not know the full extent of the magic at work here, we can rest assured that you will not be unborn. Your corporal state is validation enough I believe. Whatever magic brought you here, guaranteed your continued life and as long as you are here, I see no need to question it. To do so would be detrimental to your state of mind. In my long life I have found some questions are without answer. The eternal, "Why am here?" is definitely one of them.'
Hermione knew why she was here. The Woman had made several rants about it in fact. She didn't need to know her purpose, she knew it well enough.
You'll go back and fix this!
She bit her lip, pushing away that thought.
'Another point of interest, Batty will be gone for a month.'
Her head shot up, eyes wide, mouth open. 'What?'
The powerful wizard nodded, drinking from his mug. 'She will be helping a close personal friend of hers as she tends to her wounded son.'
Wounded son?
Hermione frowned as her mind conjured up an image of Harry.
'James?!'
Dumbledore's eyes darted to her own over the rim of his cup.
She averted her eyes, renewed heat flooding her cheeks.
The Headmaster chuckled. 'You would think that after all these years I would know better than to give Batty orders and expect her to follow them.'
I caught her crying, she almost said but caught herself. Batty wouldn't want it mentioned or acknowledged and Hermione wasn't going to betray that trust.
'I overheard her mention it to Hooky.'
'Indeed,' he replied, clearly not believing her.
In her defence, she hadn't really tried to sound convincing. Hermione doubted Batty would care. Knowing the older woman, she would have found it amusing that she'd attempted to lie to the Headmaster. Batty was of the mind that she was a terrible liar.
If only she knew.
At this point, lying had become second nature and no matter how much Hermione hated that, it was a part of who she was now.
Spoken lies or lying by omission, it was all the same.
'It is James Potter?' she asked bluntly, pushing aside all vagueness.
He didn't answer her right away. He nodded. 'Yes, young Mr Potter is a little worse for wear but his spirits are not diminished. A few cuts and bruises as can be expected but he is mending well. For that, you must be commended. Our healer is pleased with your level of potioneering my dear and sends his regards. Of course he believes, as do all Order members, Tony is brewing the potions but as we know otherwise his gratitude is naturally yours for the taking.'
The pressure in her chest uncoiled. A heaviness that she'd not been aware of left her shoulders.
James Potter was alive.
She doubted it was more than a few cuts and bruises but as long as he was alive then everything else would heal.
Dark eyes shot up.
'How's Sirius?'
'Relieved.'
Eyes back on the table, she nodded with a sigh. 'He'd been odd these last couple of days.'
Dumbledore raised his mug, 'How so?'
She shook he head. How to explain it?
'He seemed distracted. Jumpy. He wouldn't look at me. He looked like he'd lost more sleep... well, no. To be fair, it was getting worse but he'd been odd for some time. A few weeks at the most.'
The Headmaster smacked his lips. 'Yes, that would coincide with James' disappearance.'
Hermione nodded. Yeah, that had to be it.
It's not the entire truth though is it?
She pushed that thought away.
It doesn't explain the odd looks.
Nor the intensity with which he would meet her eyes. The way he looked at her sometimes...
'He requested a month off.'
Hermione blinked, looking up at the Headmaster who was eyeing the plate of biscuits like a scientist would a problem.
'Yes. He said he needed it and to be honest, he looked like he needed it. A month off was granted. I believe he will use this time to help James. He will return this time next month. Until then, one of the Prewetts will be your watch.'
Her throat was dry. Hermione blinked down at her intertwined hands, frowning.
She didn't like the idea. It ... she didn't like it. She was used to Sirius. He was her guard. They had a set routine and it worked for her. Hermione trusted him.
But James Potter needed him more than she did.
Hermione nodded, swallowing thickly. 'Good.'
The powerful wizard nodded once. 'Your safety is my number one concern Hermione. However, realistically, we must accept the inevitable conclusion that you might not have a guard every day. When the war inevitably escalates, a regular guard may not be possible. Do you still have your Portkey?'
Hermione nodded, gesturing at her pocket. In reality, it was in her bra. As of late, she always put it there. It guaranteed that she wouldn't accidentally drop it. She always dug in her pockets, she never dug in her bra.
'Excellent. Rest assured that I have implemented every safety precaution for you and though you may not have a guard one day, it does not mean that you are not safe.'
'I know Professor,' she said. 'I have never once doubted it.'
The Headmaster smiled, dipping his head. 'Your trust is appreciated.'
But not returned, she thought.
What he didn't say and what she didn't mention was that all the safety measures implemented, not only kept her safe but also in line. She was as much a prisoner as she was protected.
Unpleasant as that fact was, it was better than the alternative.
'How long will Batty be gone?'
The Headmaster wobbled his head, 'Two or three weeks. Not long. Just enough to aid Euphemia at this vital time.'
Hermione nodded, watching as he dipped his biscuit in his tea.
'But he's fine, right?'
'Sirius?'
'James.'
'Better than expected.'
A few cuts and bruises indeed.
The professor drained his tea and sat back, a content smile on his face. He looked pleased and she couldn't help but grin. She eyed his nose, long and broken.
'Do forgive me Hermione, for eating and running but duty calls. I have several meetings with the school governors as well as Ministry officials. They have been waiting,' he pulled out his pocket watch and quickly put it back in his pocket. 'For thirty minutes. They will be quite annoyed.' He smiled. 'But alas, the can wait. You were more important.'
He stood, grabbing his letter and putting it back in his pocket. 'Remember my dear, you are well guarded even if you are unaware of it. Do not let Batty's absence or a lack of guardian make you feel less than safe. Do as you would normally do. Do not change your habits or routine, be as you have been. You are safe and you are protected.'
You are watched.
The words were left unsaid but she heard them loud and clear.
Watch your arse Hermione. Albus is up to something.
'Thank you Professor,' she replied, standing and seeing him to the door.
'I am your servant my dear,' he said before turning on his heel and walking down the wet street. A slight drizzle falling on his shoulders.
The brunette shut the door behind her and felt her knees give way. Her panic built quickly, flooding her senses.
A sob was ripped from her throat and that ache in her chest returned. She couldn't breathe. The walls rattled and her head throbbed.
The wail of a child reached her ears and she used it to steady herself.
Hermione focused on the sound. Let it flow over her and thought of nothing else. The walls stopped shaking and stood still. She wiped at her face with a sleeve and breathed in deeply.
Her head fell back, a muted thump echoed around her.
James Potter was alive.
James Potter was alive.
Harry was safe.
The future was safe.
Another relieved sob. She pulled herself up with the help of a nearby desk and stood on shaky legs. Somehow, she managed to find herself back at the kitchen table.
Hermione watched the opposite chair, where the Headmaster had sat, staring blankly at the spot where the letter had been.
Relief poured out of her as did dread at the implication.
For one heart stopping second, Hermione had thought he'd intercepted her letter.