A new and very long chapter for this glorious Friday. Thank you Donna10Girl for your editing and support, and Luida for your encouragement.

Enjoy.

Chapter 15

Hermione sits on Marlene's bedside. Ravenclaw Tower is quiet. She has sent Sirius to collect her beaded handbag from Gryffindor Tower.

So he actually got use of that confusion charm on the stairs. I thought this was going to be a good night. Should have figured I was wrong when Remus confronted me about the Time Turner and the Herbology book.

Marlene is unharmed, more or less. Her cry that caught Hermione and Sirius's attention was more of surprise and anger than fear.

"If you hadn't been there I would have hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx or some other innocuous hex. And perhaps kicked him in the balls just for making a statement he wouldn't forget," she says when Hermione heals a bruise on her shoulder and a cut on her jaw.

"I know. I'm sure you're capable of taking care of yourself. I hear you're trying for Keeper in Ireland's Kenmare Kestrels. You're more than capable."

When there is a knock on the door Hermione leaves Marlene for a few seconds. Outside is a house elf with her bag.

"Mr Black said Merry would give you this, Miss. Can Merry get Miss McKinnon anything?"

"Thank you," Hermione smiles down at the elf. "No, Miss McKinnon doesn't need anything right now. Where is Mr Black?"

"He went off, Miss. Looked really angry and ran down the stairs. Has he hurt Miss McKinnon? If he has, Merry will…"

"No, Merry. Mr Black hasn't hurt Miss McKinnon. He's not angry with her. We'll be all right now, Merry. Thank you."

Where have you gone, Sirius? And for how long will you stay away?

She returns to Marlene's side and empties a Dreamless Sleep potion in a glass of water. Her beaded bag is a veritable apothecary.

"Now, drink this," she says to Marlene. "Do you want me to report McLaggen? To Professor Dumbledore? Your Head of House, Professor Flitwick? Or do you want me to get Madame Pomfrey for you? He didn't… McLaggen? Did he…?"

"No. No, he was nowhere close. Damn! Sirius was right all along. I just thought he was annoying. You know, like… We used to make jokes about him, comparing him with a leech. Harmless but irritating and… you know, clingy."

The effect of the potion starts to kick in, and Hermione softly settles Marlene back against the pillows in her bed. None of the other girls in her dormitory is back from the ball yet.

"I just…" Marlene whispers.

"You just what?"

"Sirius. I think he's rather… I don't know… The way he reacted, I think he regrets it. Even though he proved me right."

"Right about what, Marlene?"

"About McLaggen. Not a leech. Less… slimy. More… to the point. Dangerous."

Hermione watches her boyfriend's date slide into a dreamless sleep. She sits with the sleeping girl for half an hour before she quietly rises and leaves. On her way out she meets a few of Marlene's friends and tells them to be quiet and let Marlene sleep.

In front of the portrait covering the entrance to Gryffindor common room, she hesitates. She's in the exact same spot as when Remus told her he knew her secret, only a few hours ago. It felt like years.

Tonight Sirius reacted pretty much the same as when Lily and James were, will be killed. With far too much rage. Too much Black. Enough Black to send him to Azkaban. To me he is… sweet. Loving. Caring. But underneath that there is his background. His genetic heritage? Or maybe not genetic, just the better part of his life. When I knew him, before or later, he seemed controlled. Was he? Or was he just kept out of the way of situations that would have provoked him as much as… When Harry and the rest of us went to Ministry… Why, how did he find out about it? I can't see Snape going to Grimmauld Place to tell him. Snape must have contacted Dumbledore, that would have been quicker, and Dumbledore was still the leader of the Order. How did Sirius find out that Harry was in trouble? Why did he come there then? Full of fury and that bloody sense of having to protect. Did he? Did he actually keep Harry from getting killed in the Department of Mysteries, or would he have lived if he hadn't come? Would Harry?

"Wormwood," she mutters to the portrait and with a yawn the Fat Lady swings to the right to let her in.

The common room is dimly lit. Hermione glances at the clock on the mantelpiece, and it shows a quarter past two in the morning. She is just about to climb the stairs when she sees Sirius sitting on the floor in front of the dying embers in the fireplace. Slowly she tiptoes closer. When she's right behind him he turns around.

"She's OK?"

She sits down in the couch behind him.

"Yes. It looked worse than it actually was. He never…"

"He shouldn't have touched her at all," Sirius mutters.

"No. No, you're right. He shouldn't have. But he won't do it again."

"How do you know? You healed him up before I could say Venomous Tentacula."

"Yes, I did. I healed the wounds of your Slicing Hex, but I did nothing about the Stinging Hex or that lemony thing you threw at him. What was it?"

"It's actually a spell for when you make that muggle drink, Bloody Ceasar, and run out of lemons."

"Oh."

He doesn't answer, and she thinks about what he just said. His resourcefulness and his honesty about it. A giggle bubbles inside her.

"Really?" she asks.

Finally he cranes his neck against the couch, looks at her and smiles wryly.

"Yes, really."

She can't stop the laugh that builds inside her. The unreliable and combustible heir of the House of Black using a cocktail charm to disarm, or at least, defuse his enemies.

"What?" he asks with venom.

"You," she gasps. "With a fruit spell. It's too good. I would never have thought… It was, it is just perfect… It'll sting and itch for days. Perfect. And he'll be far from his pretty self tomorrow, all puffed and scratched. His parents won't…" She collapses in a heap of giggles, and Sirius pulls her down beside him.

"I thought you were really angry with me. When you took my wand, and then went to heal that creep…"

"I was angry," she interrupts. "But most of all, I was afraid."

"Of him?"

"No, of you."

Hermione sees a streak of anger in Sirius's eyes before he turns away and faces the dying embers. Tentatively she puts her hand on his shoulder and is prepared that he'll shrug it off.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I wasn't afraid of you, but for you. If you had cursed McLaggen with the Cruciatus Curse, you could have been sent to Azkaban, regardless of what McLaggen was guilty of. You know that."

He grips her hand and pulls it to his lips. He doesn't kiss her fingertips, but merely strokes them against his lips; as if he hopes her touch will conjure up the right words there.

"Yes," he mutters. "I shouldn't have. It was unforgivable, even if I didn't hit him. The thing is… I never knew the Cruciatus Curse was an Unforgivable Curse until my fourth year here at Hogwarts. I've known about the curse since I was… I don't know… five? When I was eight I could perform it well enough."

Hermione gasps in horror.

"We were home schooled, Regulus and I. Father wrote the curriculum. He applauded well-aimed curses. On insects. Rats. Once a… a goblin. He wanted us to curse one of our house-elves, and when I refused, father cursed me instead."

"With the Cruciatus Curse?"

Sirius shrugs, then he nods once.

"It was… a nothingness of pain. Nothing exists, except the pain."

I know.

"But afterwards I was proud of refusing to curse the elf. I've only thrown the Cruciatus Curse once before, at another person."

Hermione doesn't press him and waits in silence. She is not sure she wants to know.

"When I was sixteen I threw it back at my father when he forbade me to leave his house and go and stay with James. Then I left."

"Oh, Sirius. I never knew…"

I never knew that when you were locked up at Grimmauld Place and hated it. I sometimes thought you exaggerated. We got rid of so many of your mother's things that Christmas, and tried to cheer you up. How could you stay there at all, having left the way you did? Having lived the way you did?

"I know it was wrong. He, my father, just… everything I did, every choice I made, almost everything I said made him roll his eyes to let me know what a disappointment I was. But I was proud of my choices of not following in his footsteps, like Regulus did, and does. When I'm here, at Hogwarts, with James and the others, with you, I'm still proud and happy for being a Gryffindor student but… Just seeing my brother sneer from the Slytherin table, or reading a piece of news about what the Sacred Twenty-Eight are up to with the segregating bills they suggest in the Parliament, or hearing some of our professors talk about history and just breach the subject of the old class society, I feel this… anger building within me. Everything my father, and my mother for that matter, she's even worse, said or taught me is still here."

He touches the left side of his chest and makes a clawing gesture with his hand, as if he wishes to tear out his heart. Hermione puts her hand over his.

"You have a good heart, Sirius."

"How would you know? You've only known me for a few weeks."

That's what you think.

"But I've got to know you pretty well. You belong with people like James and Remus. Good people. They bring out the good in you, and, in time, you'll be more and more convinced. Your childhood will fade, you will make your own decisions, far away from your parents."

He kisses the palm of her hand so tenderly that the memory of him aiming an Unforgivable Curse at an unarmed man begins to dissolve.

"Has your childhood faded, Hermione? You told me you have nice, normal parents. Don't you want to see them again, even if you are an adult and don't necessarily have to?"

The sudden cramp in her throat makes it impossible to speak. Her parents' blank faces are so clear in her memory she imagines she could undo her Memory Charm with a flick of her wrist.

"Maybe," she whispers. "They have another life now, on the other side of the Earth."

He doesn't press her to go on, just embraces her with one arm and pulls her close.

"That healing spell you used. What was it? I've never heard about it before."

"Vulnera Sanentur. It's a healing spell for bleeding wounds."

"From Askrigg?"

Hermione shrugs.

From you.

"I didn't learn it in school. Someone used it on me once. On a cut. Just here." She touches her left shoulder absentmindedly and remembers the instant relief she had felt when Sirius, on the first night she met him, used the spell on her. He'd taken her wand, pointed it at her and uttered a spell she'd never heard before. And she hadn't been afraid, not even for a second.

Sirius leans over her and looks at the almost invisible scar he once healed, or will come to heal. Tentatively he kisses her skin and she shivers under his touch.

"I do love James as a brother," he says. "And I'd do anything to defend Remus and Peter against those who see them as less of wizards. Remus's Lycanthropy will almost certainly hamper his career, no matter what credentials Dumbledore gives him. And Peter… He is so afraid, in many ways so weak. But he's brave too. He's done so much to help Remus to keep his secret and finish his education. It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Peter."

Hermione focuses on sitting absolutely still and not cringe when Sirius shares his trust in the man who will betray James, Lily and Sirius himself.

"And I do feel I belong with them, more than I ever did with anyone before I came to Hogwarts. But…"

Hermione senses there is something more in his heart. When he doesn't continue she softly asks:

"But what, Sirius?"

He turns to her, still keeping her close.

"Do you think I might belong with you, too?"

She gasps at the sincerity in his grey eyes.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

She leans in and kisses him softly.

"I hope so."

A few students pass the common room to the dormitories. No one notices Sirius and Hermione, almost invisible in front of the couch by the dark fireplace. They don't talk and Hermione feels Sirius relaxing on the brink of sleep. She nudges him, gets up from the floor and sinks down in the couch. The empty Head Girl's bedroom will stay empty.

"Come here," she says, and he shuffles up next to her. "Incendio," she whispers to the dark fireplace, which begins to burn again. She curls up against Sirius, and he hugs her close. "Stay with me here tonight."

He doesn't answer, but stretches out his legs along the length of the couch and pulls her down beside him. With his arms around her he soon falls asleep.

There are so many things I don't know about you, Sirius. How could I ever have thought that this… this time leap would make it possible for me to be with you? But how can I back away now? I love you far too much. And I need to stay here. A long time. Years. The thought of you, alive, young, less… damaged, was what made me leave my time. Yes, Harry too, of course, and how I somehow will save him, so he can grow up and save us all. But not you, Sirius. Harry won't be able to save you. You will die defending him instead. Now my mission is to save Harry, but my incitement is you.

With her head resting on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats, Hermione lies wide awake, watching the dancing flames.

I threw myself into this, head over heels, because of you. But now what? Remus, in my time made it clear that I left, that I will leave, eventually. How? When? Why? How can I ever leave now? I want to belong here. I want to belong with you. But I can't change the past to keep Lily and James safe, and consequently you will run off after Peter in full Black rage and get yourself framed for Peter's betrayal. Can I stop that? Lily's sacrifice fills a purpose that will save our whole world. What purpose does your twelve years in Azkaban fill?

Someone enters the common room and Hermione closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. Quiet steps come closer and stop right beside her. Someone touches her hair softly. When the steps begin to retreat she opens one eye and sees Remus climbing the stairs to his dormitory.

And even if you have to go to Azkaban, do I have to leave? A younger me will still meet a young Harry on the Hogwarts Express. What do I have to return to, in my time line? The war is over. Harry doesn't need me. Neither does Ron, not really. Mum and Dad don't miss me, they don't even know about me any more. Would it be a crime to stay? Indefinitely, like you said, Sirius? If you'll have me. If I stay, I don't have to tell you, do I? About me coming from another time? I want to stay with you, in this present. I can stop you from running after Peter when that time comes. Or I can run with you and jinx Peter so he can't transform and disappear. He will be the one who goes to Azkaban, for the crime he commits.

Hermione knows her reasoning is full of holes. Perhaps Peter's actions later, when he helps to resurrect Voldemort, also serve a purpose. Or, if Peter isn't there to do it, someone else might, Lucius Malfoy for instance. And that might change the course of history. She just can't bear the thoughts of Sirius in Azkaban, or herself ever turning her Time Turner back for good.

Hermione will remember very little from the Graduation Ceremony, because she is so tired. The students sit at the back of the podium in the Great Hall where the professors and staff usually have their meals. The relatives and friends sit in rows in the larger part of the room, where the four student tables normally stands. The sea of people drifts in and out of focus for Hermione. Professor Dumbledore's voice lulls her to the brink of falling asleep. A few Dumbledoreisms find their way into her woozy mind.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

I dwelt on this dream for years of grieving. It's not fair. I took the chance of living two months ago, and now I do. I live. Perhaps I live in a dream, but my other life has very little to offer in terms of living. Too many people have died. Too much of our world is in ruins. I've done my share of fighting the Dark side. I've fought it for seven years, and forgotten to live. Haven't had time to live. I'm staying. I don't care that Professor McGonagall sent me to a mission to return from. I'll complete my mission, but I won't return. Maybe I can write and explain, go back to my time and leave the letter and then come back here. Later. I'll deal with it later. For now, I'll stay.

"What are you thinking about?" Sirius whispers next to her. "You look as if you just zoomed out of here, and into another world. I prefer to have you here."

"Oh, nothing. I'm just happy we're here, at Graduation. Getting our degrees."

Sirius takes her hand in his and ducks down to kiss it quickly. He keeps her hand in his lap and begins to trace letters on the sensitive skin on the inside of her lower arm.

LOVELOVELOVELOVE

His touch hypnotises her, and she doesn't catch any more of Professor Dumbledore's speech. When Professor McGonagall takes the stand Hermione shakes herself awake. It's time for the awards. Anita Longbottom from Hufflepuff is called up to the podium and is presented with a fine edition of Magical Water Plants of Scottish loughs. Hermione can see so much of Neville in the young woman who eventually will become his aunt. Other students she doesn't know receive their premiums and are applauded by both the students and their families and friends.

Old Professor Merrythought shuffles towards Professor McGonagall with a thin box, no larger than the Herbology book Anita Longbottom received, tucked under her arm. But it's not a book. Professor Dumbledore rises to steady the old woman, and then he takes the stand.

"And finally the Award for Defense against the Dark Arts. There are a number of students who have received an 'Outstanding' in this subject, which is one of the most complex subjects to master. You see, to defend yourself or someone else against the Dark Arts, you need to understand the Dark Arts. You need to grasp the depth of evil, which lies within this Dark Magic. It's simply not enough to just pull up a wall of protection and aim curse after curse in the eye of the Dark. An approach like that might save your life, but it won't really harm the Dark Magic that is threatening you, because you act in fear and denial."

The atmosphere in the Great Hall has changed. Professor Dumbledore talks as if he is delivering a really important lecture, and he's got the attention of everyone in the room. Hermione can see a few people looking uncomfortable.

"It's not until you understand the depths and the evil and are prepared to face them, that you can really defend yourself and gain ground against the Dark. So, today it gives me the greatest pleasure to present the Award for an outstanding achievement in this subject to Mr Sirius Black."

Somewhere in the middle of Professor Dumbledore's speech Hermione got an inkling that it was Sirius he was talking about. She hears his gasp of surprise and feels his hand that holds her grow ice-cold in shock. He doesn't move and she nudges him. On his other side Remus joins the applause.

"Yes!" Remus says in the thunder of clapping hands. "Up you go, Padfoot! It's you he's talking about. Don't keep him waiting, he might change his mind."

Sirius scrambles to his feet. His face is pale. Hermione catches his eye, smiles and blows him an air-kiss. Some colour returns to his face and his eyes start to twinkle. When he reaches Professor Dumbledore he walks tall and with confidence. Hermione watches him shake hands with his professors and accept the box from the oldest of them. He opens the box and Hermione sees him flinch when he looks inside. Professor Dumbledore smiles and whisper something to Sirius, and Sirius looks back at his professor with an expression of utter surprise. With a little bow he turns around and returns to his seat between Remus and Hermione.

When the applause dies down and Professor Dumbledore gives room for Professor Flitwick to conduct the choir in their last number, Remus whispers urgently.

"What is it? What's in the box, Sirius?"

But Sirius just shakes his head and tucks the thin box inside his robes.

"Not now."

Again he takes Hermione's hand and squeezes it hard. His hands are warm again and his eyes shine with pride.

At the reception in the Viaduct Courtyard, Sirius and Hermione withdraw from the crowd. Remus and Peter have gone with their respective families. It feels like everyone else has family and relatives around them, and Hermione has a niggling suspicion that Sirius is going to ask her about where her, allegedly 'nice and normal', parents are on their daughter's graduation day. But he doesn't, and Hermione doesn't mention Mr and Mrs Black either. She knows Sirius met them recently in Godric's Hollow, when they came to claim some family jewellery, but she is not surprised they aren't here today. From what she understands and has learned from Sirius, most of all during the previous night, Mr and Mrs Black are not interested in their eldest son, no matter how distinguished honours his school presents him with.

Sirius throws his arms around her in a corner of the courtyard and smiles.

"Will you tell me?" she asks.

"Tell you what, love? That I'm happy the graduation is over, and that we are free to leave whenever we want? That the whole summer is ahead of us, and you'll spend it with me?" He kisses her nose.

Hermione rolls her eyes in jest.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Here." He pulls the box out of his robe and hands it to her.

"Guess."

The box weighs next to nothing. Hermione can't imagine there's even a wand inside it.

"Dumbledore told me, there at the podium, that since we've grown too tall for James's, he thought I ought to have one of my own."

Hermione understands in an instant.

"An Invisibility Cloak."

Sirius nods, opens the box and presents her with the familiar silvery sheen. Hermione feels herself tearing up. Suddenly her throat feels tight when she remembers all her nightly adventures under a similar cloak with Harry and Ron. She knows all about growing too tall to safely share it with two others.

"What is it, love? You look as if I showed you the shrunken head of your favourite house-elf. Not that I would ever…"

"No," she interrupts him. "It's a lovely gift and award, and you deserved every word Professor Dumbledore said. I just… I know someone who has a cloak like this. And it has saved his life on several occasions."

She looks out over the grounds. The Wooden Bridge, sagging already but probably held together by magic, leading to the Sundial Garden, passing a small gazebo where Hermione once sat with Viktor Krum. On the bridge itself she kept nagging Harry, in their fourth year, that he just had to figure out the Triwizard Challenge he was stuck with.

"Who is he?" Sirius mutters behind her.

"Who?"

"Your friend who has an Invisibility Cloak."

Oh, Lord! He's jealous.

"Just a friend. At… At Askrigg," she lies.

"A friend?"

His jealousy is more irritating than flattering.

"Yes, a friend, Sirius. Who happens to be a young man. Just like Lily who is beautiful beyond words is your friend," she snaps.

A sweeping sound tells her that Sirius has just made use of his gift and wrapped them in his Invisibility Cloak. Hermione notices that it's a bit longer than Harry's and guesses they are totally vanished from other people's eyes. Sirius locks her against a pillar with his arms on both sides of her. His face is stern and he speaks quickly and urgently.

"No, love. It's not the same. You know Lily, and you know that even if I fell madly in love with her, I would never betray James like that. Or you. But I don't know anything about this friend of yours, who apparently is male, and I paint all kinds of pictures of him in my mind. I'm jealous. I know I shouldn't be. I know you wouldn't be here with me if there was someone else waiting down in England, you're not that kind of a girl, but I'm still jealous as hell. Who are you, really? Where do you come from? And how can you just waltz in here and take me prisoner? You have my heart in the palm of your hand. I act like an idiot when it comes to you. You saw me yesterday, at the ball, grabbing Marlene and kissing her, just because I thought you and Remus looked really, you know… guilty. Like you had a secret that you kept from me. And maybe you do, and it has nothing to do with me, but I can't imagine anyone being around you without wanting to…"

He captures her lips in a bruising kiss, bites her lower lip hard and tastes her mouth when she opens with a gasp of pain. He's never kissed her like this before. His raw need and honesty make Hermione's head spin, with pleasure and desire and she answers the kiss just as fiercely, clutching the front of his shirt hard enough to pull a button. Her blood roars in her ears, and helps to drown her sharp voice of reason.

I can't keep up this lie about my life before I came. He'll catch me lying at one point or another. He'll smell my lies, and will explode in jealousy as soon as I mention any man I've ever known. He'd probably be jealous of himself if I had said that it was a man I know taught me the Vulnera Sanentur and healed that cut, all those years ago. I have to tell him.

Sirius stops kissing her abruptly and she hears her own disappointed sigh before she can stop it. He keeps her pressed against the pillar behind her with his body, and she can feel how much he wants her. She wants him just as much. If they weren't in this public place in this vast crowd she would tell him and follow him anywhere. With his forehead against hers and sharing the air between them in ragged breaths he begins to talk again. His voice is hoarse but calmer than before. There is something in his eyes that reminds Hermione of the other, older Sirius she knew. A passion that takes her breath away. There had been a hint of that fire when she first knew him, but dulled by sadness and pain. She'd never thought his conflicting moods had anything to do with her, how could she? But now, pressed against him, under the sheerest of protections, when he bares his jealousy and desire she aches for Sirius's older self, locked in decency and the impossibility of time travelling.

"Even if you were coming down those stairs with Remus and I know better than to assume… And you'd never… I've never met anyone like you, Hermione. You can't imagine how afraid I am of losing you. If you're late for breakfast I can hardly think. And if Lily comes down alone I immediately prepare myself for the worst possible news."

"What?"

"That you've left. Back to England. Or to your family, which I really wonder where they are today. That you've gone away with McGonagall on family business. That you've gone. It's like I'm playing this game, where the stakes are raised exponentially every time I see you. If you left, while I'm in this game, you would clear me out completely."

Hermione's heart beats so hard it hurts. The deductive part of her mind puts pieces of information together.

What hell you must have been through when you met me again, Sirius. And an even worse hell when you did, back in the Shrieking Shack. And by then you must somehow already have lost me.

"It's not a game," she whispers. "I won't leave. I won't call your stakes. Mine are just as high."

He searches her face, different emotions shadowing his features.

"Just as high," she repeats softly.

He folds her into a tight embrace and breathes into her hair. They remain still for minutes. Hermione can feel his fast heartbeats calm down.

"No game?" he whispers.

"No game."

Nothing stops you from dropping me a review. I would really appreciate it.