Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Finals

Team: Holyhead Harpies

Position: Keeper

Prompt: The Makeover Challenge - Write about a pair of opposites bonding/forming a bond

Summary: Hermione is ready to move out of Grimmauld Place after Sirius' behaviour has driven her to the edge, until she hears him playing the piano...

Word Count: 1,364

A/N: In my head, Sirius Black lived and I won't be told otherwise.

Can you play me a memory

A loud whistle woke Hermione up. In tune, but high-pitched and at the right tone to make Hermione want to stab out her eardrums with her wand. It was the bloody weekend! Did that man not keep normal hours at all?

The longer she stayed at Grimmauld Place, the more she realised that the living situation with Harry and his godfather was not working. At first it had made sense; it was close to the Ministry, and it gave her some independence from her parents, now that she was out in the adult world.

Slowly but surely though, Sirius Black had become a thorn in her side. It had been bad enough growing up with Ron and the noise and chatter that came with him, but Sirius was another level.

He was like a child who needed occupying at all times. If she sat down to read, he needed to know what she was reading — not that he ever sat down to read anything himself. At dinner, he would take food from their plates, even when they were having the same meal. She couldn't even have a cup of coffee in the mornings without him grabbing it for a sip.

He chattered non-stop about everything and nothing, like all the words he'd not said in Azkaban suddenly demanded to be unleashed upon the world. He left teabags on the kitchen sink. The bathroom was always soaking wet after he'd had a shower. Things were never where she left them. He couldn't even abide by the rules of any board game they attempted.

The list went on.

And it wasn't that all of this made her hate Sirius. It just made her realise she needed him in small doses. Teeny, tiny ones.

She especially couldn't hate him after he had opened his home to her. Rent-free. For as long as she needed to save money.

"It's seven in the morning! Go to bed!" she shouted from her bed, knowing full-well he hadn't slept, as it was the only logical reason he would be awake now.

"All in good time, Hermione!" his distant voice called back through her closed door.

XXX

Hermione spent the next week keeping a close eye on available properties she could rent, but there was nothing she could afford in London at the moment. Reluctantly, she started searching further afield, accepting the fact she would have to Floo to work rather than the nice morning walks with her coffee she had been enjoying for the last year.

Throwing another paper onto the coffee table in the drawing room after nothing could be found in it, Hermione stood up and stretched her stiff body. Maybe tomorrow would give her results.

As she started to tidy the papers, piling them together, leaving them for Sirius to read — one of his many nighttime hobbies instead of sleeping — she heard the piano next door. Sirius was the only one to play it in the house and he didn't do it often.

Hermione moved quickly down the corridor to watch him, peeking around the doorframe to check if he could see her. He had his back to her, perfectly straight and his head bowed down, watching his fingers move over the keys. She shifted quietly to watch his fingers, which was her mistake.

She couldn't help herself. She only wanted to help. The words left her mouth before her brain could stop it from happening.

"You have flying fingers."

Sirius immediately stopped playing and slammed the lid down. "I do not!" he said indignantly, an edge to his voice at having been caught. He shifted on the stool to look at her. "Besides, you might know everything, but you can't play the piano."

Hermione gave him a wry smile. "I never said I can't play the piano. I said I don't play."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Prove it."

The smile dropped from her face. Everything was always a dare to him. She turned to leave with a shake of her head.

"Please?" he called to her.

She paused, staring around the hallway at the old wallpaper. It wasn't often he had a sincere tone. "Okay," she said with a heavy sigh.

When she stepped into the room, he was already moving along the stool to make room for her. She started playing the most simple piece she could think of that her rusty fingers could play; Für Elise.

For the first time since Hermione had known Sirius, he remained still as he watched her fingers move over the keys, muscle memory working perfectly for her. When she finished, she shifted to look at him with a slight smug look.

Sirius nodded approvingly. "James' mother used to play that all the time… she was the one who taught me how to play."

"Does Harry know that?" she asked. When he nodded, she added, "I'd always assumed it was just part of your upbringing."

Sirius snorted derisively, starting to gently tap at the middle C. "They'd have cut my hands off before allowing me to play an instrument."

Hermione let that settle on her, thinking about how different her introduction to the piano was. "My grandmother made me learn. It was the only thing she was tough on me about and it made me loathe every moment because I made mistakes all the time."

A crooked smile curled at Sirius' lips. "Did you hate it because of how tough she was or because you couldn't get it right the first time?" He nudged her gently with his elbow.

"Says the man who won't try anything he thinks he might fail at,' she muttered, grabbing at his hands to put them back on the keys. "Now you play."

Without even missing a beat, Sirius started playing Für Elise. His version had more flair than hers, but he kept lifting his fingers too far off the keys. She leaned over and gently pushed at the backs of his fingers, following the tune with him. "I do not have flying fingers," he said quietly, still playing.

"I can feel you trying to lift them away, Sirius!" she said with a laugh. "It's unnecessary energy."

Sirius sighed as his fingers faltered. "I have a lot of energy, if you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," she said sardonically, starting to stand up. "You expend it in the most annoying ways."

Sirius grabbed at her shirt sleeve, tugging gently to stop her walking away. "Is that why you want to move out?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm up at being called out. She thought she'd been doing it inconspicuously. "You're just a bit much for me; you know how much I like order and quiet," she admitted, shrugging slightly. "It is what it is."

Sirius nodded, staring down at the piano keys but not letting go of her. "For a few brief moments, right here, I could actually think straight." He met her eyes, a world of pain and trauma swirling in them. "Would you be up for a deal?"

Hermione sat back down at the bench. "What kind of deal?"

It took him a few attempts to get his words out, she could see him trying to make them sit in the right order before he said them aloud. "What if you spent some time — say once a week — doing this with me and I'll promise to reign in… well, me."

She opened her mouth to argue that she didn't expect him to change. That they were just opposite people, not designed to be in the same space together.

"You and Harry keep me sane being here," he said quickly, like he was reading her thoughts.

"It was barely a few minutes shared over a piano. You'll get bored and start messing around," she finally said.

"But it was common ground!" He smiled widely at her. Encouragingly.

She sighed. "You've got two months — but!" She added quickly when he looked like he was about to start doing something ridiculous like poke her in the ribs, "If you even think about doing anything remotely annoying, I am gone!"

Sirius grabbed her hand and shook it firmly. "You can't back out now. You've shaken on it!"