Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, and I'm merely allowed to play around with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

I'm so sorry for the wait, my life is crazy. I just found a couple of hours in a day to finish this up. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy!

Chapter 9

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'It's okay Sirius, she's just had a little bit of an emotional moment. It overwhelmed her. There's nothing we can do. She just needs rest.'

Dorea's words rang in his head repeatedly, like the steady gong of a funeral bell. She had been sure Hermione was alright, just exhausted. But still, he lay in bed, unable to find sleep as he was terribly worried about the witch next door. He looked at the magical grandfather's clock on the wall on his right and sighed. It was half past three in the morning.

He couldn't help thinking about his… declaration. It had come as a surprise, even to him. Somehow, the side of him that he couldn't quite control anymore, what he had now decided to call Hermione's side, had taken over once more. And it had said things that the true Sirius wouldn't have said.

Hermione's side, for that side of him belonged to her, truly and fully, scared him to no end. It was a side of him which forced him to unveil his deepest secrets to her… Secrets he would barely admit to himself, anyway. He didn't even know what it meant by 'Now I know.'

He didn't know anything. And that was almost as scary.

He rolled around in his bed, still restless. His chest pulled at him, and he did his best to ignore it. He knew what it was, he'd been feeling it all night. It was that strange subconscious pulling him to her. Beckoning him inside her bedroom. It was almost irresistible.

Almost.

Even though it was pretty hard to resist, what with a part of him muttering: 'Come on, you know you want to. You're Sirius Black, you always want to get into girls' bedrooms, right?'

The voice was right, which annoyed him to no end.

It was taunting… 'Do you deserve your name?' it asked. 'Do you deserve your reputation? Your identity?'

"I don't know who I am any more." he admitted to no one in particular, seeing as he was alone in the room. "I don't know if I want this or if it's just her side influencing me."

The voice in his head seemed to be laughing. 'I am a part of you.' it whispered. 'If I want this, then you want this, even though you won't admit it to yourself.'

Sirius sighed. He rolled around again and stared up at the ceiling for a while, before groaning and pulling his pillow over his head. "Go away. I don't know anything. I don't even know who Sirius Black is anymore."

"You are, you idiot," the voice said. "And you do know things. Hermione… You know her. You know that she means a lot to you now, much more than you are actually willing to admit. You belong to her."

Sirius groaned again. "Not fully." he argued feebly.

"Yes, fully." the voice said. "Now go back to her and admit your feelings."

"I have no feelings!" he yelled, but soon realised how ridiculous he sounded. He was just screaming out to an empty room. He sat up in his bed and sighed, holding his head in his hands. Then, a gloomy glow attracted his attention. He tilted his head and looked outside his bedroom window. The moon and stars shone brightly, illuminating the dark forest in which he and Hermione had almost died the day before.

He got up and walked to the window, barefoot and naked from the chest up. He put his hand on the moist glass, over where some stars were, and stared at them. Strangely, they seemed to be staring back, defiantly, as if taking up a bluff he was making.

"I don't know what's going on," he admitted, whispering so that his hot breath condensed on the window in a cloud like shape. "But I don't want to fight any longer. I'm tired. Tired of this… obsession. You win, stars, I'll go. And I hope this makes you happy."

And, grabbing a black bathrobe along the way, he made his way out of his room, and to Hermione's. She was lying in bed, oddly straight, seemingly stiff and too tucked in for it to look natural… or even for her to look alive. He approached her bed to check if she was breathing, but she was too far off and he couldn't tell. He hesitated. It didn't feel right to climb on a girl's bed without her approval. Especially not Hermione.

But it was just to check if she was breathing, right? It was, technically, for her own good. Besides, he'd just get on, check her breathing, get off and go back to bed. The little voice in his head snickered, as if he didn't believe a word he was thinking, but shut its mouth when Sirius growled softly. Taking a deep breath and staring at the side of Hermione's bed, he slowly lifted his right leg and let the front of his calf sit on the soft sheets. When she still didn't move, he set both palms on either side of his leg and pushed on them, ever so slowly, to lift his second calf to the space between his right one and his left hand.

Now that he had successfully climbed on her bed, feeling proud of himself for being so stealthy, he advanced slowly, determined to let her sleep, while the little voice nagged him that if he woke her up, it would be proof that she was still alive and he could just go. Ignoring his naughty counterpart, he crawled closer to her immobile figure, up until he was barely a foot from her. But still, he couldn't hear her breathing.

Slightly scared, he lay down next to her, on his side, so that his face was in line with hers. He approached a hand to her, placing his index finger under her nose, where he felt a very slight flow of air. Sirius sighed in relief, before catching himself, his eyes widening at the thought of her waking up while he was so close.

But still she slept on. Sirius watched her for a few minutes, the room bathed in moonlight and therefore highlighting her facial features. Her nose was small and her forehead large, her hair was unbelievably frizzy and her lips weren't particularly full or red. She wasn't Marlene. She's wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world. She was sort of plain in a way, when looking at her from an objective point of view.

But still, every single time Sirius Black looked at her forehead and at the lines on it, he felt strangely shy and eager at the same time. There were lines that were those she had when she frowned, when she was angry and yelling at him for being too much of a jerk, or flirting too obviously with Marlene in front of people, therefore trespassing the boundaries of acceptable PDA. Or even when she was angry for no reason and just liked taking it out on him.

He smiled at the thought. It was so cute when he riled her up and she took the bait. There were also her lines of worry, like when she fussed after Remus when he was feeling a little ill due to an upcoming, or just passed, full moon, or when she looked at her homework, re reading it repeatedly, certain that she would get a T when she only got O's in every class.

The lines she had for squinting too much at books because she read to often. The lines that came with the look she gave every time she was surprised. The lines that gave her away when she was using heavy sarcasm.

And all that time, Sirius just wanted to kiss all those lines because he felt something special for Hermione, and she wouldn't be Hermione without her past experiences and, therefore, the lines that came with them. He wanted them all to stay. He didn't care about superficial beauty anyway.

He thought about it for a while and then sighed softly, so as not to make a sound. He would have to break up with Marlene. He would have to break her heart. It pained him to have to do that to her when she had just been a loving friend and girlfriend, but he needed to reform his habits if he wanted a chance with Hermione.

Because he did want a chance with Hermione. But he knew he would only have one. And she would never stand to just be "just another pair of knickers to add to his collection". That was fine by him, as he wanted her to be his first "real" girlfriend.

Some part of him was sad to leave his state of debauchery behind; after all, he was only seventeen, still youthful and able to go from woman to woman with ease. But somehow, he knew it wouldn't be fulfilling enough. He was sad. He had tried collecting conquests to prove his worth, but it didn't.

Maybe he should try being like James. Worship one woman and do whatever it takes to have her, to be her knight in shining armour and to earn her love.

Marlene loved him. Be he had never earned it. He wanted to earn Hermione's love. To be worth it.

Looking at the way her cheeks shone pale in the moonlight, he knew that he would never be her equal. She was so brave, and selfless, and hardworking as well as a million other things he'd never understand, for he was the product of a loveless marriage between two cousins who had never taught him what true qualities were.

Throughout his childhood, he had only heard of purity, and how this was the most important thing in a wizard. He was taught to hate anything lower than purebloods, like Muggle-borns, blood traitors, half breeds, house elves… And he did. For the most part of his pre-Hogwarts years, Sirius Black was the perfect heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Up until one day, when he realised he had been taught lies.

He had been ten years old, and playing with his brother in a playground designed specifically for magical children in Diagon Alley, while his parents were in Flourish and Blotts, shopping for books for their two sons to read over the holidays. While Regulus was on the Floating Slide, squealing with joy when he shot out of it, flying a few feet before landing and running for another go, Sirius would be playing with his Roulette Gum, blowing bubbles and pretending to die when they made a noise as they popped.

They were alone at the playground, so they could do whatever they liked. At least, until a small blond boy arrived, carrying a brown teddy. His parents looked over at Sirius and Regulus before muttering a few words and leaving. The blond boy entered the playground, seeming a little shy, and approached Sirius, who was closest to him. "Hello." he said with a small voice.

Sirius spat out his gum, Regulus stooped on his way to another go with the slide and both boys looked suspiciously at the new boy. "Who are you?" Sirius asked.

"Um," the boy said, clearly uncomfortable at the tone of voice Sirius was using. "My name is David. My brother Sam is going to Hogwarts next year and my parents left me here while they go and shop for his stuff."

Sirius eyed him, raising an eyebrow. They his eyes shifted to the boy's strange clothing and his unmoving teddy bear. "You're a Muggle aren't you?" he spat out acidly, his gaze now full of contempt for the child in front of him.

"A… what?" the boy asked, now frightened of the heir of House Black.

Sirius walked closer to the boy, towering over him as he wasn't older than eight. "Muggle filth." he said, disgust in his voice. His eyes glanced over to the teddy in the boy's hand and he snatched it.

"Hey!" the boy said, his face now sad as well as frightened. He tried to grip the bear but Sirius held it up high, making it impossible for him to grab it. "Give it back!" he wailed in a desperate attempt to make the Black boy change his mind.

"You want it?" Sirius sneered, before throwing the bear across the playground, where it landed in a puddle. "Go fetch it, you fithly Muggle. After all, you're no better than an animal."

The boy started crying, tears sliding down his face, as he refused to turn his back to Sirius as he moved closer to the puddle. But, as he reached it, he had to bend, his face towards the puddle, to grab his wet and muddy teddy bear. But, just as he did that, Sirius ran, jumped on his black, flattening him to the ground, and grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and forcing his face underwater.

The boy fought against Sirius' weight and the latter laughed. "Don't you like being with the dirt? Well…" he sneered evilly. "That's too bad, because it's where you belong. Doesn't mud run through your veins? You filthy" he said, leaning down to whisper the last few words in the boy's ear. "filthy Mudblood."

And, with those words, he let the boy go and stood up. The Muggle boy sat up, taking a great big gulp of air, then starting to sob as hard as his body could let him. He grabbed his drenched teddy and stood up, still sobbing. Sirius, with a smug look on his face, was looking at the boy, who was trying to wipe the dirt and mud from his face, and noticed blood in his hand.

Sirius frowned. "Blood?" he thought as he stepped closer.

Scared of Sirius, the boy backed away from him, wide eyed, a hand clutching his muddy teddy and the other held out in front of him, as if to keep Sirius away from him. "No!" he shrieked, his tears stopping instantly. And then Sirius saw it.

A rock must've grazed the poor child in the cheek, for he sported a red cut, from which a thin stream travelled down until the boy's jaw, before following the contours of his face and ending and the tip of his chin, where scarlet drops fell onto the ground.

Blood.

Taking advantage of the shocked face of Sirius Black, the boy turned away and ran.

When he was gone, Sirius kneeled down where a few spots of the red liquid lay and dipped a finger in it. Still filled with disbelief, he wiped his finger on the pale skin on the inside of his arm and, sure enough, it left a bright streak of red.

His blood wasn't thick, grainy or brown as he'd been led to believe. It was smooth and scarlet, much like Sirius' own blood. They were not different. they had the same blood.

And, as Regulus walked to his brother cautiously, Sirius stood up, wearing the red streak on his arm like a sign of betrayal and, as tears started flowing from his face and his world disappeared, grabbed his brother's hand and ran away.

He'd never wanted to tell his parents what had went wrong that day, just ignoring them until they started doting more on Regulus then on himself, quickly growing to hate both them and what they represented: the Pureblood tyranny of the world of lies they had created.

Thinking back to that incident in Hermione's bed made Sirius sad, because he knew that what he had done to the Muggle boy was wrong and mean, as well as completely against nature. Yet he had done it. It made him think of himself as a monster.

But before he could dwell on this further, Hermione moaned, as if in pain, and squinted in her sleep. A tear trickled down her cheek and Sirius was sure its twin was flowing down her other cheek. His hand moved to her wrist and he placed two fingers on her vein to take her pulse, and noticed that her heart was racing.

She was having a nightmare.

Feeling uncomfortable as he had clearly intruded in her personal space for far too long, Sirius considered leaving, but she let out a sob and he froze. He wasn't used to her crying. He hated it. Shifting in her bed, he moved his other hand to the cheek he couldn't see and stroked it with the back of his fingers, feeling his heart sink as it was wet, like he'd imagined it to be. After a few minutes, she stopped crying and sighed, before relaxing into her mattress.

He kept one hand on her cheek and the other around her wrist, counting how many times her heart beat in six seconds, until all he could count was seven times. Then he stared at her face.

No, Hermione was not a happy princess in a castle. She was more like a broken witch, which made Sirius smile at the thought, trying desperately to wards off those who wanted to hurt her and those who wanted to help her, making herself seem strong in the process. But, deep down, he knew she yearned for help, from whatever wounds, invisible as they may be, she may have.

And he wanted to be the one to dry her tears and hold her in his arms through her nightmares. He wanted to wake up to her face and be the reason she laughed and smiled… He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to make her eyes shine with a light she had lost, probably because of the conflict going on right now.

It was if she was a broken vase and he was there to mend her, glue the piece back together and make her safe. And he had a feeling, a conviction even, that the vase made of pieces of glass that he had stuck together, would be the most beautiful vase in the world, more beautiful even than she had bean before she broke.

Sirius yearned to be her salvation.

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