Dear all,

I'm ever so grateful for your reviews, follows and favorites. Also a billion thanks to my beta Donna10Girl who makes my artistic creativity clear and correct.

Love, Kia

Chapter 10

Hermione

They study the better part of the days and half of the nights. Hermione, who has always studied alone, or dragged Harry and Ron through their studies, is almost happy. Sometimes she feels paralysed by regret and grief when thinking about everything and everyone she has left back in her own time line. She realises she has to stay in this time line for quite some time. Professor McGonagall said Lily had mentioned Hermione after the birth of Harry, and Harry won't be born for another two years. On the other hand, Hermione has really found her place here. It's brilliant to partake in really serious discussions about the risks of using Felix Felicis regularly, and try to work out why rabbits are more difficult to transfigure than rats. It's bittersweet to get to know Lily, whose shadow so often darkened Harry's life. Studying with Remus, rather than for him when he was her teacher, is a pleasure. And there is Sirius. Sirius who looks at her like the sun rises with her in the mornings. Sirius who brings her snacks he's finagled from the house elves, in the evenings. Sirius, whom she can't admit she knows as much about as she does. She is happy just to be in his presence and be his friend, and tries to keep her longing for him, and her memories of him, hidden. She regains some of her appetite and puts on a few pounds. Her bruises heal so she can walk barefoot or without tights under her skirt on warm evenings. But she can't convince herself that she can wear a top without sleeves, hating the mere sight of her scar, and fearing anyone would see it. See it and ask about it. Mudblood is a vile word in 1978 as well. Hermione has tried to show herself as an uncomplicated muggleborn girl. Having a scar spelling such an invective would contradict that picture.

Soon the exams are upon them and they cram the night before. Ghostlike they wait in silence in the Great Hall the next morning, and when Professor Dumbledore gives a sign everyone turns over the written exam in front of them.

Hermione has been right in her predictions. She writes about Polyjuice Potion, transfigures a frog into a frying pan, sees a large fire in scattered tea leaves and draws Lily a horoscope with lots of love and a small baby boy. On Friday afternoon she hands in her last exam paper and goes outside. She follows the path down towards Hagrid's Hut, but stops when she sees Sirius, James and Remus discussing something at the same spot where she years later will punch Draco Malfoy in the face. She hides behind a group of large rocks.

"But Marlene will understand," Sirius says argumentatively to the other two.

"Of course, she'll understand," James agrees. "She'll understand that you are an utter bastard. Who will take her to the graduation ball if you don't? You decided this at the beginning of the year. She has turned down at least ten guys. She'll be going alone, if you bail out, you coward."

"But I want to ask Hermione. I want to…"

"I know, Sirius," Remus says calmly. "We can all see that. But that is not going to happen, unless you want to confirm what so many think of you behind your back. That you are as sly and untrustworthy as your brother. This is what we'll do. I'll ask Hermione if she wants to come to the ball with me, and we'll go as a group. Peter won't be here, he'll be away on something he wants to sound very important and secret, but I think he's just going home to his mum because the girls he's asked have turned him down."

Hermione leans her back against the cold stone and stops trying to discern their voices. Her heart beats fast.

I've forgotten about the graduation ball. He wants to go with me. With me? It doesn't matter that he won't, that he can't, because I know that he wants to.

Preoccupied with studies Hermione has been able to hide what she feels about Sirius. What she's felt about him for more than two years, even though they've just met. She melts a little every time he smiles at her, which is often, but her structured mind has focused on academic subjects for as long as any of the others are still awake. This might be her only chance to graduate from Hogwarts. In 1978 instead of 1998. Or 1999 if she had stayed in her own, first time line, and taken her 7th year after the summer, together with Ginny.

Later the same evening, at a casual exams-are-over party in the common room, Remus asks Hermione if she wants to go to the ball with him and she accepts.

"Sirius wanted to ask you, but he and Marlene decided to go together already back in September."

"Really?" Hermione says with a blush.

"Yes, really," Remus smiles back. "Of course he did. Can't you tell?"

The ever-present blush creeps up her neck again. She shakes her head unconvincingly.

"But I'm truly happy to take you to the ball as my date. I wish you had attended Hogwarts for all my seven years here. It's been a pleasure to study with you."

"Likewise, Remus. What are you going to do after graduation?"

He shrugs.

"Academic studies, I hope. Only part time, I… Sometimes it's difficult for me to attend classes… I… never mind. I'd like to study Defense Against the Dark Arts. Counter curses and such. Sirius's uncle left a lot of material on that subject and Sirius says I can use it all as material for a thesis, as long as I'm careful," he adds with a half smile. "Sirius has gone over there now, to his uncle's house. He died earlier this winter…"

"Yes, Sirius told me."

"Apparently Sirius is the sole beneficiary of his uncle's will. All his uncle's research, his money, and his house."

"A house?"

"Yep. A nice little cottage in Godric's Hollow, do you know it?"

"I've heard about it," Hermione lies. "In the southwest, right?"

Remus nods.

"Sirius left right after the last exam. He hasn't been able to get away the last month or so, but since it's all his, it can wait. He'll be down there this summer. Me too. To go through the research and help out."

Why are you telling me this, Remus?

Hermione nods and tries to look as if she doesn't commit every detail about Sirius to memory.

Sirius

In another part of the United Kingdom Sirius sits on the front stairs of the cottage, which is now his. He holds a bottle of butterbeer and sips from it occasionally. Mrs Potter, James mother, has been over earlier with a basket with food. Sirius wishes he had a mother like James's, all good will, care and love. Walburga Black has never cared about Sirius after he got sorted into Gryffindor and accepted the Sorting Hat's decision. The Hat had told him he could choose, that he had what it took to be really successful in Slytherin, and Sirius knew this was true. There was, and is, enough dark inside him to obediently follow in the footsteps of his parents and the entire Black family. But the Hat had also told him that if he chose the light inside of him he could be a Gryffindor to be proud of. He has never regretted his choice.

The house behind him is a mess. His uncle had far too many things, and some of them have proved to be cursed in one way or another. Sirius cools the blisters on his right fingertips against the cold bottle. A nasty attach-and-burn curse. But Sirius has the whole summer to sort through the house. When the immediate shock and grief had passed in February, when his uncle died, he had begun to look forward to his summer. A house of his own, in the same village that James's parents live in. Remus would come and stay, and perhaps Peter too, if his mother didn't need him as she usually did.

Now the prospect of a summer hidden away from both Scotland and London seems bleak. Sirius doesn't want the term to come to its end, doesn't look forward to the graduation, which he has spent seven years longing for. Just two months ago he saw the graduation as a place in time when he could finally count himself as an adult and be completely independent, free from whatever his family or his school demanded of him. Now he doesn't want to leave the group of people he has studied with, harder than ever before during the last month. This new girl, Hermione, he thinks about her all the time, in a completely different way than he thinks about Marlene or Lily, even if he loves them both fiercely. That day, the day when Hermione arrived, he turned around and saw her walk down the stairs with Professor McGonagall. It was like a key unlocked a really old and rusty lock, inside his heart, and opening a door to feelings he learnt to suppress since he was a child. He loved his mother as a young boy, like every little boy, but at the age of five he realised that his mother didn't want any endearments, physical or verbal, from him. Trying to be close to his father usually ended in some kind of task, at which he failed and was punished. When Sirius got to Hogwarts he was already cool. Cold. Controlled. And he hadn't minded up until a month ago, seeing that thin girl walking down the stairs with the Head of Gryffindor House. She was far too skinny, looking as if she'd been severely ill, and she had all kinds of bruises and cuts. He had even noticed her limping. But something, perhaps those deep, brown eyes? That long, dark golden hair? Those long, thin fingers? That shy smile? Or that pretty blush that at least gave her face some colour? Something about her captured him in a way he was almost embarrassed about. James teasing remarks about him being tongue-tied or moony-eyed aren't far off the mark. He is tongue-tied. He can just sit and watch her forever. He finds everything she says interesting and clever, even though he vaguely recognises her line of academic reasoning similar to Remus's.

What are you going to do during this summer, Hermione? Are your parents coming back and you'll spend time with them as a normal, functioning family? Or with friends from your old school? That boy Lily mentioned, who is he? Will you see him after graduation?

He tries to swallow his sudden jealousy with the last of the butterbeer. It doesn't help. In only a few weeks their ways might part forever.

Maybe I should go back tomorrow. Just tidy up a bit here and then drive back? Now the exams are over there is time to just… hang out. Remus is taking her to the ball. What if… They are really one of a kind, those two brainy swots. I can't understand how they do it, but they both seem to really enjoy comparing the roots of dandelion to those of hawk's beard. What if they…?

Sirius rises suddenly, enters his cottage and slams the door behind him. He wants to get back to Scotland by tomorrow evening. Together with the green-eyed monster of jealousy he tidies up quickly and efficiently. Loads of his uncle's old things are sorted and thrown away. The two rooms of the cottage look more spacious than he thought ever possible. It looks good enough to invite guests to.

He finds them beside the Black Lake south of the castle the following evening. They are all surprised to see him a day earlier than expected, but happy all the same. Hermione sits next to Remus on a blanket and Sirius measures the distance between them with his eyes.

Too close.

"Pads, welcome back. Good to see you. How was the trip?"

"Just fine, James. Hagrid has taken good care of the bike. Can I join you?"

"What are you talking about? Of course you can," Remus says. "Don't tell me someone taught you manners in Godric's Hollow."

Sirius sinks down on the blanket next to Hermione and pulls out a brown paper bag from under his arm.

"Some refreshments. Elf-wine and biscuits. Found them in uncle Alphard's house, well, in my house. They're not cursed, I've checked. Here, I have some glasses too."

"Thank you, Sirius," Lily smiles. "We were just about to go back and beg the house elves for snacks."

"Why do you call Sirius Pads, James?" Hermione asks.

"Because he's a dog," James laughs. "A dirty, mad dog."

Hermione's expression is confused.

"As far as I know the word 'pads' does not mean 'dog' in any European language. And you are called Prongs, Remus Moony and Peter Wormtail. Why?"

The silence is uncomfortable. Sirius wants nothing more than to tell her everything about their unregistered Animagus forms, about Remus's Lycanthropy and the brilliant map they've made to be able to see when the grounds and hidden exits from the castle are clear. But it's not his decision to take alone. He scans the others' faces. Peter looks, predictably, afraid, but James and Remus both give him a 'go ahead' silently.

"Well, during my fifth year, I looked into Animagi, and found my Animagus form. It's a dog. Padfoot."

"Really?" Hermione looks more surprised than ever. For a second Sirius thinks she looks too surprised, as if she somehow already knew this, but he knows that none of his friends would have told her without him knowing. He is the most reckless among them. If anyone would talk without thinking, it would be him, not James, Remus or Peter.

"What kind of a dog?"

Sirius draws his wand, points it away from them, thinks about what he felt the first time he saw Hermione and whispers "Patronus."

The large Irish wolfhound appears from the tip of his wand and bounces around in front of them on the shore of the lake. Hermione seems spellbound.

"It's the same as my Patronus. I think most Animagi forms are," he explains.

A discussion about Patroni and Animagi arises. Remus and Hermione hold an academic viewpoint, while James and Peter want to try anything and everything to prove any theory that comes up.

As the light spring evening turns into a transparent dusk, the discussions loose the argumentative edge and simmer down to quiet chatter. Lily and James leave, hand in hand. Sirius notices Lily whispering something to Hermione. He knows James has been put off by Lily sharing rooms, so he can't tiptoe into her rooms at night. He's still been a good sport about it. Peter joins Lily and James to walk back to the castle.

Remus, Sirius and Hermione sit still in the colourless twilight, talking very little. Sirius has no idea how much or little time has passed when Remus stands up and declares that he's tired and is going to bed.

"Oh, is it late?" Hermione asks.

"No, not really. You stay."

"Please do," Sirius says next to her. "I won't keep you late, I just want to stay outside for a little while longer. I've just been inside, in that cottage, since yesterday. And I apparated with the bike, so I missed the whole outdoor experience of driving."

Remus waves and leaves them.

"Did you get anything done with the cottage?" Hermione asks. "You weren't gone for long."

No, I got jealous and wanted to come back to you.

"Well, I think the cottage is OK now. It's mostly been a question of throwing things away. James's parents live there too, in Godric's Hollow. Mrs Potter keeps an eye on the place for me."

"Are you going to keep it? The cottage?"

Sirius hesitates. A month ago he would have said 'yes, definitely,' but suddenly he can't see the point of settling down far out in the Southwest. Despite a reliable floo network and discreet apparation spots, which could take him to London in no time, he doesn't want to be by himself like he's always wanted before.

"I don't know," he answers. "I can't really see the cottage objectively. I think it's nice, but that's because I think about it as my uncle's and I liked to spend time there with him. Remus will come down after graduation. Perhaps he can give me some pointers about what to do with the place. Lily and James will stay with James's parents there for at least three weeks, perhaps you'd like to come too. To see if it's something worth keeping."

Too forward. Why would she like to go to the middle of nowhere with people she's just met? You sound creepy.

"I'd love to."

"Really?" He smiles, relieved. "Haven't you got other plans? With your Yorkshire friends? And Lily mentioned something about a… about someone you care about, who had been going through some rough times."

"No, no, I haven't got many plans for the summer. I'm going to stay with my godmother, Minerva, a bit. And maybe go down to London. I'd love to come with you and the others to a bit of a countryside holiday."

"Brilliant. You are so welcome."

Hermione shivers in the thin darkness of the June night. She's wearing a denim jacket over her school cardigan, and it isn't really cold. Sirius can see that she is less skinny than when she came, but still too thin. Slowly he shuffles closer to her, attentive to see if she objects, but she only smiles that shy smile he adores.

"Come here," he says and pulls her to him, with her back to his chest, wrapping Lily's forgotten blanket around them. At first she is tense, but relaxes while he talks about his uncle's cottage and all the paraphernalia he has found there. After a while they sit in silence. Hermione leans against him and he feels as if he can sit by the Black Lake throughout the night. Maybe he will. Hesitantly he caresses her shoulders with his hands, and softly rubs the back of her neck with his thumbs. She smells of fruit and vanilla, and he wonders if her skin tastes like that too. She sighs and he fears he has made her feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he whispers. "I shouldn't…"

"Please," she whispers back and cranes her neck to her right. "I… I like it. I like your hands."

Sirius grinds his teeth to stop himself from kissing her exposed skin. He lets his fingertips explore her skin above her school cardigan, and she sighs again. His hands wander down her arms and find hers. When he has intertwined his fingers with hers and felt her returning his grip, so it's no longer only him holding her, her trusts himself to speak.

"I wanted to ask you to the graduation ball."

"I know," she answers. "Remus let it slip."

"He what? Oh, never mind. I guess I'm as transparent as a windowpane."

"No, you're not. Definitely not to me."

He is relieved. James might tease him as much as he likes and see straight through him, but Hermione doesn't seem to have seen his crush quite as clearly.

"I'm sorry I went on and on about having seen you before, when we first met," he whispers. "I really felt I had. But now, when I know you better, I know I haven't met you before."

"I told you. What convinced you?"

"I would have remembered you more clearly if I had met you before."

She is quiet and Sirius wonders if he's pushed it too far.

You're scaring her. She'll run away.

"Maybe we have. In another world or time," she whispers so quietly he isn't sure he's heard her correctly. The fact that she doesn't run away is reassuring enough for him to lower his face to where her neck meets her shoulder and inhale her scent. His canine sense of smell strengthens the experience. Very slowly he presses his lips to her skin. She shivers again. Still holding her hands he embraces her and feels her heartbeat under the skin of his hands against her chest. His blood whooshes in his ears when he quietly mumbles against her skin.

"I've been so happy since you came. Just your good morning smile makes every day a good one. Where were you before? I wish you had been here always."

He hears her gasp, and is a little uncertain about why.

What I did I do or say?

"Me too," she whispers back.

"Will you please come to the ball with me?"

"No. I'm going with Remus. But I'll dance with you if you ask me."

"I will."

When she grows heavier in his arms he realises she has fallen asleep.

Maybe I will sit here the whole night, with her sleeping. I hope so.

Despite the chill that comes with the night, he doesn't mind. He's never been overly sensitive to cold, and the sensation of Hermione in his arms is similar to that of a warm, sleeping cat. He thinks of other girls he's known, and knows. He likes girls in general, and knows how easily he can get almost any girl's attention. And apart from the sly, conceited Slytherin shrews, he likes this attention. When he was 16 he sometimes snuck out of Hogwarts in the evenings, without telling his friends, and made his way to the shabby pub The Green Lion, just in time for the barkeeper's daughter Rosmerta to finish her shift. She brought some butterbeer or elf-wine from her father's pub, and they went to her cottage to talk, drink, laugh, and, eventually go to bed. Rosmerta, ten years his senior, seemed to take the matter of teaching Sirius the art of lovemaking to heart, and she soon found that he was an apt student. In return Sirius took her for weekend-long rides on his motorbike, paying for anything that struck her fancy. He was frank with her from the start, stating his independence and his fear of any gooey sentimentality, and found, to his surprise, that Rosmerta was pretty much the same. She hated working in her father's pub, being groped by strangers every evening, and saved up all her tip money with the dream of one day opening a more respectable pub of her own. The first thing Sirius had done when uncle Alphard had died, and his gold had been moved to Sirius's private vault at Gringott's, was to beg Rosmerta to accept a loan with next-to-nothing interest rate. She had soon found suitable premises for her business The Three Broomsticks. Sirius hasn't been to bed with her for more than a year, but they are still good friends. He hasn't been to bed with any girl for more than a year. Sometimes he flirts mildly with a few of the prettiest 7th years, but taking it further would put his sweetheart charade with Marlene at risk, and he doesn't want that. He can't understand how James can juggle all his different roles at Hogwarts. He is a rather good student, a loyal friend, a secretive Animagus to support Remus at the full moon, a perfect son who writes home every week, and boyfriend, presumably lover to Lily. Sirius thinks the three first roles are quite enough. Sometimes, when his Black family background collides with the Gryffindor he's chosen to be, he becomes moody, irritable and brooding. Then he doesn't give a damn about his studies or his friends, except James, Remus and Peter and their pact to roam the grounds of Hogwarts at every full moon.

Sirius often feels ambivalent, when one of his Gryffindor friends says something, it can be anything, really, just a comment on a piece of news that makes the Black in him want to contradict them.

The Ministry treats the house elves despicably.

He can hear his father's hoarse voice saying that the house elves have more than enough rights and that they ought to be chained to the kitchen stove.

The Daily Prophet doesn't write the blood status of the people they write about, anymore.

"What is the world coming to? Mudbloods ought to have a capital M tattooed to their foreheads," his mother's shrill voice pierces his eardrums, from inside.

He doesn't agree with these voices, not in the least, but he hears them and they unsettle him. He wants to agree with his friends and fellow Gryffindors without hesitation; he doesn't want the echo of his parents make him hold back, before he speaks his mind, which is as far away from pure blood supremacy as the planet Saturn.

But this new girl, this thin beauty who sleeps in his arms, despite the cold, hard ground beneath them, has changed him. The voices of his parents are beginning to fade, instead he runs things that earlier would unbalance him through "And what would Hermione think?" It's easier to agree with her; she has strong opinions about most things he has tried to stand up for his whole time at Hogwarts.

It's something about the way she looks at him. As if she's known him far longer than a month, and as if she's really happy to see him, and spend time with him. She looks at him as if she trusts him. Very few girls look at him like that. He gets hungry looks from quite a number of girls, and they scare him, even though he would never admit it. He wonders what they want from him, but is not interested enough to find out. Lily and Marlene are his only female friends. And it took a considerably longer time for him to start viewing them as friends, than it has with Hermione.

But everything is different with Hermione. Sirius wants to talk to her and kiss her. Listen to her and peel her clothes off. Discuss politics and taste her skin. Take her on a bike ride and take her to bed. He knows he is rarely this versatile in his relationships, not with anyone.

He leans against the trunk of the tree they are sitting under. Slowly he winds a stray lock of her hair around his fingers, spellbound by its silkiness. He takes off her glasses, these out-dated, but charming frames that suit her so well. He looks through the lenses. They don't change what he sees through them. He wonders why she wears them, her eyesight can't be that poor. Not like James, who is more or less blind without his glasses. When Sirius tries on James's glasses the world shrinks and he feels dizzy.

Hermione moves a little and he pulls up the blanket around them. His hands find hers and grip them. Dozing, he holds her, feeling her deep breaths and light weight.

I could sit here forever, just… being. This is… She is… I feel as if I'm holding the whole world in my arms. What if this is it? If she is it? The one?

Very early the next morning they make their way back to the castle. Sirius has watched the sky over the Black Lake go from dark blue to sooty grey to deep rose, while Hermione has slept.

The dawn is icy cold and they walk with the blanket around their shoulders. Sirius holds Hermione firmly around her waist, and still feels as if he is holding the whole world in his hands. She leans against him and walks almost in her sleep.

In Gryffindor common room Sirius throws the blanket on the couch and pulls her to him. She rests her head against his shoulder and tickles him with her breath.

"Sweetie. It's almost morning. It's been a lovely night. I'm so happy I spent it with you, but go to bed, you're sleeping on your feet."

Sleepily she raises her head and looks at him, smiling.

"I am. Thank you, Sirius."

Slowly he bends down and kisses her chastely on her lips. She returns his kiss softly.

When she begins to climb the stairs to the girls' dormitories he grips the back of the couch to remain where he is, and not run after her. Her dark golden hair swings, and the muscles in her calves flex.

A little later, when he flops down on his bed without undressing, and closes his eyes, he can still see her legs climbing the stairs away from him, and leaving him with the memory of her lips against his. Without noticing he falls asleep carrying the same images into his dreams.