When Harry arrived four days later, it was with all of the drama Sirius expected and Hermione feared. There were a lot of accusations and anger. Ron and Hermione spent quite a bit of time explaining that they didn't know much more than him and how Dumbledore prevented them from contacting him. In the end though, Harry locked himself in his room and wouldn't respond to anyone for that first night.

Sirius, felt at a loss as he watched the younger occupants of Girmmauld. Ron was surly and snappish, Ginny tried to keep a cheerful face but would often be found glancing up the stairs wistfully, the twins were often found whispering together and sneaking up to Harry's door with questionable items that would probably make their mother scream herself hoarse. With the seriousness of the Order members, he had relied on the general vim of the kids to keep the house from becoming downright suffocating. The current mood of the kids made him feel restless, hyper aware of the moods of the people surrounding him. His throat felt tight when conflicting attitudes were in the same room, like magnets of opposing charges pulling him in different directions. He itched for a drink to calm his mind, but felt the oppressive disapproval of Molly and the callous judgment of other Order members pressing in on him.

As he wandered down to the library that night in hopes for a quiet drink away from the pressures of the others, he was surprised to see Hermione already there. It was the first time she hadn't been the one to follow him. She sat curled in on herself, pursuing through the first few pages of a relatively thin book that was so well worn that the spine seemed to be held together with tape. He came up behind her and gently pulled her hair away from her face, carding his hands through the generous curls along her temples and towards the back of her skull. She looked up at him with wet, reddened eyes. The evening seemed to have affected her as much as it had him.

"What are you reading, Kitten?" He was trying to distract her, and he knew she knew. She just quirked the corner of her mouth in an attempted smile and raised an eyebrow in question to the new nickname, but didn't outright ask. Instead she flipped the book closed so he could see the title, and the motionless cover.

C.S LEWIS

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Book 1 of the Chronicles of Narnia

"Is this not part of my summer reading list?" he asked, twisting a small french braid along the side of her skull. He kept his voice casual and light.

"It's a kid's book," she said, as if that answered the question. Her eyes returned to the cover of the book. Two yellow doors opened up to a corridor of snow covered pine trees, a castle rising in the distance underneath a pale yellow moon, four children in long fur coats walking in awe down the linear path.

"So?" he asked, his fingers moving quickly once he finished adding hair to the braid, the plait forming a long rope. "You obviously have a lot of love for this children's book." He finished the thin braid and started on the other side of her head. "Read it to me." This brought a real smile to her face. He could see her cheeks lift from his angle.

As she started reading, Sirius could feel the solid pounding of his heart soften and his mind settle. The magic he felt behind the simple words of the story and the sound of her voice warmed him more than any firewhiskey could have. He soon realized why she loved this book so much, the words might be simple but the story was unapologetically real in a mysterious way he couldn't put words too.

Nearly two hours later Sirius had migrated to the couch, his head resting on the pillow that lay in Hermione's lap, his legs over the armrest, enjoying the feel of her free hand stretching his scalp. He felt content. His worries felt as far away as the sun at midnight. The story weaving behind his eyelids led by her voice.

"Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?" asked the Witch.

"Let us say I have forgotten it," answered Aslan gravely. "Tell us of this Deep Magic."

Sirius, absorbed in the story, feeling apprehensive about what the White Witch was trying to do, was suddenly shaken out of Narnia by a yawn. He opened his eyes and looked up at Hermione's drooping lids. He smiled at her sleepy countenance as she tried to find her spot on the page again. He sat up and took the book from her, slipped the bookmark that was tucked in the back into place and set it aside.

Hermione blearily looked up at him and opened her mouth to protest. He didn't let her and lifted her from her seat by her elbows.

"We can finish it tomorrow, Kitten. It's Saturday, Molly isn't going to make you do too much," he said, taking her hand and tugging her out of the library. She didn't resist as he led her up the stairs and to her shared room with Ginny. "Don't worry about tomorrow and have a lie-in." He kissed her forehead and wished her a goodnight before turning and walking back to his room. Completely missing the rosy cheeks on Hermione's face.

The next morning came and while Harry did come out of his room for breakfast, the mood of the house did not improve. The kids skirted around him like he was a particularly volatile blast ended skrewt and Molly was near smothering with her mothering. He did crack a smile and snort a laugh into his bacon though when Ron made a derisive comment under his breath about his mother's fussing.

After watching Molly try to give Harry a fourth helping of eggs and toast, Sirius drew the boy's attention and suggested they go for a chat. He saw Molly's eyes narrow in suspicion. Sirius tried not to let it get to him, it was no secret that Molly Weasley didn't think much of him. He ushered Harry out the kitchen door just in time for them to cross paths with Hermione

"Morning Harry. Morning Sirius," she said with a smile, turning sideways to let them through.

Harry barely glanced at her and just mumbled a perfunctory 'Good morning' back, not even looking her way. Sirius frowned at the behavior and watched the hurt cross Hermione's face, but followed after Harry. He made sure to smile at Hermione though and squeeze her hand affectionately as he passed her.

He spent most of the afternoon with his godson, having taken him up to his childhood room and shared stories about each other's respective school days. Sirius showed Harry all of his old hidey-holes that he used to keep contraband items from his family. The loose floor-board that held muggle vinyls and cash, the spell-o taped packs of cigarettes he stuck under his dresser, and the false bottom in his desk drawer that held an envelope full of school photos.

It felt as though some of the tension broke within Harry. At some point Remus appeared and took a seat in the room adding his own comments on the pictures and stories.

"Do you remember when Lily took that rose Prongs tried to give her in sixth year and stuffed it up his nose?" Laughed Sirius from the bed, his back pressed up against the headboard, one leg stretched out and the other cooked out.

"I remember her freaking out because a thorn caught the inside of James nostril and he bled all over the Front Hall," Remus just shook his head from the desk chair. "Funny thing is, I think James just enjoyed having her fuss over him. The poor sod didn't care that she was the one who sent him to the hospital wing."

Harry grinned at them from the foot of Sirius' bed. He sat cross legged, leaned up against one of the posts, and soaked in the feeling of family. While the Weasley's had welcomed him with open arms, he always felt somewhat out of place with the sea of redheads. But Sirius and Remus felt like what he always imagined family to feel like. People he could go to for anything without judgment. People he could just be around without any expectations. He didn't feel that way about the Weasley's.

"Kind of reminds me of the time Hermione slapped Malfoy in third year," he sniggered to himself at the memory.

"Hermione slapped Malfoy?" Remus choked over his tea, sounding grudgingly impressed. He was no longer a teacher, but obviously had been trying to stay impartial to the students he taught.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and a slow grin took over his face. "So, the Kitten has claws!" He barked a laugh.

"Hermione can be down right scary sometimes," shuddered Harry. "You know she kidnapped Rita Skeeter last year?" Looking between the two of the older men who now had completely dumbfounded looks on their faces.

"Yeah, I know!" He said, clearly enjoying the shock he gave them. "I'm sure you remember all the garbage that Skeeter woman was writing last year. She would either twist the truth so far it looked up its own ass, or she would just make things up. She also would publish things that she had no business even knowing, like Hagrid being a half giant, and we couldn't figure out how she found out."

"I remember her articles, always had to read between the lines or chuck the whole thing out, with that one," growled Sirius, remembering the articles Harry was talking about. Including the smear campaign that she instigated in her last article some months ago. He also realized that she hadn't had anything published since. Glancing over a Remus he gathered he noted this too.

"Is Hermione the reason she hasn't written anything since the end of the school year?" Asked Remus, his brows furrowed.

"Yep. Hermione finally figured out how Skeeter was getting her information." Both Sirius and Remus leaned in anxiously. If anything that made Harry grin wider. "Skeeter is an unregistered animagus."

"You're joking!" Both Sirius and Remus exclaimed, their mouths hanging open.

"What is it about the kids from our year with becoming animagus illegally?" Said Sirius in amusement.

"So what did Hermione do?"

"She noticed a very conspicuous beetle in the hospital wing and decided to keep it in a jar for a while." Letting them fill in the rest of the story for themselves

"Merlin…" Remus looked like he was trying to reconcile the well behaved student with the girl who kept a witch hostage in a jar. His face was a mix between concern over the questionable morality of the action and amused vindication.

For Sirius' part he couldn't help but admire Hermione even more. He knew she would do anything for her friends, but even knowing that he was shocked to hear how far she had already gone. He couldn't help but be proud of his godson for his choice of friends. Though he didn't know Ron well enough to comment, he knew Hermione was one in a million.

That thought prompted him to nudge Harry with his socked foot.

"Speaking of Hermione. What's with your attitude towards her? When you saw her earlier you acted like she was practically invisible," his voice was moderately reproving. Harry's face fell, obviously not wanting to have this conversation.

"It's nothing," he said, trying to weedle out of it. He shifted in his seat and looked down.

"It's not nothing, Harry," mumbled Remus.

Sirius just waited, staring at his godson intently, knowing the boy would get the idea that he wasn't getting away from talking about it.

"It's just, she didn't keep me in the loop, of all people I would have thought would have contacted me about the Order and everything, it would have been her and Ron," he said in a rush. "After everything that happened last year don't you think I deserve to know what's going on?"

"Harry, they couldn't let you know what was going on," said Remus with a sigh. "Even if Dumbledore didn't forbid it, Molly was checking every letter they intended to send you."

Harry looked moderately mollifed at that. He knew that Dumbledore had ordered them not to write to him, but he didn't know that there were enforcements in place to prevent them.

"But you know that Harry, and you didn't treat Ron that way this morning," Sirius pressed, determined to get to the bottom of this. He felt particularly protective of Hermione. She displayed an astounding amount of compassion and the lengths she had proven herself able to go through to help people was astonishing, and Sirius treasured her for it.

Harry hesitated, obviously trying to put together the words. "She would want to talk about what happened last year." Harry looked down at the scarlet comforter tracing the seams with a finger.

"So, you are pushing her away?" Sirius was frowning now.

Harry's temper flared."She wouldn't understand! Okay?" he snapped, green eyes flashing up to look Sirius in the eye. "She wasn't there, no one was there! She didn't have to see Cedric die," he ended with a whisper. "She hasn't been through what I have."

Sirius looked at his godson and studied him for a moment. The defeated posture, the stress and signs of fatigue from not sleeping well. Sirius knew these things all too well. He leaned forward and placed a broad hand across Harry's narrow back.

"I think you are underestimating Hermione, Harry," said Lupin, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, Hermione might not have been there, but she knows enough. And she knows you," said Sirius, rubbing between his shoulder blades. "Just because she wasn't there doesn't mean she can't empathise or help you work through what you need to work through." Harry didn't need to know at the moment that he was speaking through very recent experience.

"If you aren't ready to talk about it with her, communicate that with her, let her know you will talk to her when you are ready. But, don't push her away. We're gonna need all the friends we can get soon enough and Hermione is worth dozens," urged Remus, glancing at Sirius, thinking of how much the witch had already helped him.

Harry looked at the two wizard's earnest faces and nodded.

Later when Sirius wandered down to the dining room for dinner, he was pleased to see Harry sitting between Ron and Hermione, chatting with the twins that sat across from them.

She turned to look at him when he sat on her other side and smiled in a way he knew was a silent thanks. Her entire countenance seemed lightened, it seemed to brighten the entire room. He smiled back and placed an arm around the back of her chair to lean into the conversation. Hermione turned back around to return her attention to the conversation, her cheeks a pleased flush.

The whole of dinner was spent in a state of contentment Sirius hadn't experienced with that many people since before Azkaban. Unfortunately the mood was ruined. Once dinner was over they settled down for business, mostly about Harry's upcoming hearing but later Sirius tried to explain the happenings of the order to Harry and the others.

"That's enough!" said Mrs Weasley firmly. Her arms crossed and a look that may as well been a stone wall on her face.

"He has a right to know, Molly," he said sternly, crossing his own arms and frowning up at her.

"I want in. I want to fight too," said Harry with such conviction that Sirius couldn't help the flush of pride. He grinned, ready to spill everything.

"No, absolutely not. He's too young," she rebutted, sniffing sternly. "Besides, Dumbledore forbade it himself" As if that settled the matter.

"Oh, if Dumbledore forbade it then that's it then," Sirius snarled, raising from the table. "Harry has a right to know, Molly. After everything he's been through, who are you to deny him the right to know what's going on?" he vollied back at her, his eyes flinty and his jaw ticking as he grit his teeth.

"Harry is like a son to me! I refuse to involve him more than he has to be!" she broke into a yell, hands moving to her hips in a move that had every redhead at the table leaning away.

"Harry needs to be prepared for what's coming! You might think of him as a son, but that doesn't give you the final say. I'm his godfather!" He glared fiercely at the woman, refusing to yield.

"Oh yeah, and a bloody good job you've done as a godfather," she hissed sarcastically, between clenched teeth. The entire room went still, no one moved and it felt like static was filling the ears of everyone present.

Sirius looked like someone slapped him. His face went bloodless and his body went slack. He just stood there in shock before he turned around and stormed out of the dining room. The tension remained long after he left. Everyone's eyes swiveled towards Mrs. Weasley, who was breathing heavily staring at where Sirius had been standing.

"Molly…"said Mr Weasley in a breath. His voice was oddly reproching for the normally placid man. He broke the silence and quieted the static. Mrs. Weasley's face went red, and she looked like she was fighting some strong urge.

Harry looked up at her, his green eyes blank. "Mrs. Weasley," he said clearly and firmly. "That was too far." He left the room, and something like regret broke in Mrs. Weasley's face. Her eyes teared up and she whirled around to the kitchens and various pots and pans could be heard in the sink.

That night Hermione sat waiting for Sirius in the library with a pot of tea. When he came down her legs were tucked under her as she cradled a mug in one hand and a book pressed open against the armrest of the couch with her other hand. Crookshanks, who had recently made an appearance after several days of scouting the old house, was sitting on the couch's back cushion, paws gently braced against the back of Hermione's head. He stopped in the doorway to watch them for a moment, a bottle of Ogden's Best held between thumb and forefinger. Although he only had a swig before coming down. It was more of a habit to come down here with the liquor than an honest attempt to drown his sorrows. Since they started this routine he found that his bottles of firewhiskey lasted much longer than before.

He stepped further into the room and set down the bottle on the coffee table, reaching for the mug she had set out for him and pouring some of the tea. When he finally sat down next to her she had put her book down (a text on advanced Herbology, he noted, now that he could see the cover) and was watching him. She didn't say anything, just leaned into his side, bumping the top of her head up softly against his chin. The deliberate cat-like action forced a small smile on his face.

"Are you alright?" She asked quietly, tracing the edge of her mug with her ring finger and staring into the fireplace.

Sirius sighed, tucking his face into her hair for a moment and taking a deep breath. Hermione always smelled like the holidays somehow. Like clove and cinnamon, ginger and cedar. She even smelled peppermint, from drinking her preferred tea, the steam seemed to just add to the perfume of her hair as well as volume. It brought back memories of Christmas with Lily's favorite cinnamon candles, or Mr. Potter using cedar wood chips in the fireplace, or Mrs Potter dashing clove into her Christmas baking, always adding a little more than the recipe called for.

"I'm useless," he answered eventually, not moving his face from the shelter he found in her curls. His heart ached to do something, anything, that would make him feel like less of a waste of space. He couldn't go anywhere outside of the house. Even as Padfoot, the very infrequent - almost nonexistent- excursions outside were chaperoned. Since Peter had rejoined Voldemort, the Death Eaters would know of his animagus form. He was included on Order meetings but besides his input he couldn't provide anything of use. He made no difference.

Hermione moved away from him to look up at his face. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring up at him with those big brown eyes and her hair a cloudy halo around her head. After taking both their mugs down by the teapot , she put both of her small hands against his scruffy cheeks and held him there. "You, Sirius Black, are not useless." She said it with such conviction he almost believed her.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "I can't do anything. I can't leave this house, I can't spy, fight, or even get my own groceries. Besides this house, what have I contributed to this war?" He looked at her drinking in her youth, her still hopeful existence, and suddenly felt the years bearing down on him. He wasn't old. Far from it. By wizarding standards at 35 he was still a young adult. But the years in Azkaban felt twice as long as they were, and felt like they aged him twice as much as they had.

Hermione just stared at him more fiercely. "What you provide, Sirius, is a home."

Sirius almost rolled his eyes at her. "I know, Kitten. But besides lending Grimmauld Place I can't do anything." He put his hands around her and rubbed her ribs with his thumbs, silently telling her he appreciated her efforts to cheer him up.

"No, you provide more than a house, Sirius. You gave Harry a home," she refused to back down until he understood his importance. "You are Harry's home. Not this house. You've given him something no one else could, you gave him family. Someone to come back too."

He felt something catch in his chest at her words, his thumbs paused in their circular movement. "But the Weasleys, Hogwarts…" He said weakly, trying to find the loophole.

"The Weasley's are wonderful, welcoming people who have accepted Harry, but they aren't Harry's family. When Harry needs advice, he doesn't go to Mr or Mrs Weasley. He goes to you." She paused. Letting him flounder for a moment, absorbing her words. "And Hogwarts? Do you really think that if Harry had to choose between Hogwarts and you, Hogwarts would win?"

His expression lowered, eyes casting down and to the side in a nonverbal admission that he did think Hogwarts would win out. "Sirius, you would win a thousand times over," she urged, stroking his cheeks until he looked up at her. "You are Harry's home, his family. Screw spying or whatever else the Order has people doing!" She exclaimed vehemently. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flaring, the strain in her voice told him she would be shouting if she didn't want to wake the whole house. "You're not useless, Sirius. Out of everyone here, you have the most important job," she seemed to lose steam after that and just tucked herself against him again.

Sirius just held her to him, much like that first night in the library. A hand buried in her hair and an arm wrapped around her to hold her tightly to him. He just sat there thinking, ruminating over what she said to him. He was someone's home.

His throat felt clogged with emotion. Wasn't home what he had always been searching for? Wasn't home what he found with Lily and James and Remus, before it all got ripped away? He knew the feeling of homelessness. The need, the utter hopelessness, and loneliness that went along with it. That he could be home for someone, give that to someone, when he himself was still looking…

They sat like that for a long while before he cleared his throat and awkwardly suggested they finish The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. She huffed a laugh and produced the book from the couch cushions the slim little book and adjusted herself so that she was leaning with her back to him. He put his chin on her head and let the smell of Christmas, Home, and her soothing voice wash over him.