Hermione sat in the common room curled up on the plush leather couch in front of the fire. Snow fell outside in large flakes making her feel cozy in her familiar over-large sweater and soft sleep shorts. Her homework was finished, Crookshanks occupied the armrest as she worked oxblood colored yarn into interconnected loops with her crochet hook. She had learned from the previous year that she was a disaster at knitting and took up crocheting, finding that the more open-ended craft was more suitable for her often overworked mind.

Harry was at quidditch practice and Ron decided to watch from the stands, which left Hermione to herself for once. She was grateful for the time alone as she hadn't had much of it as of late. Ever since the tripping hex incident she was even more careful to not walk through the castle by herself and the boy's were more wary as well. But, in the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room she was able to let her brain relax and recharge from the seemingly endless social noise. Not that she didn't love being around her friends, but she did lean ever so slightly towards introverted and needed time to think and put her thoughts in order about the last couple of months.

Normally school went by too quickly for Hermione. She loved learning, spending time with her friends, and walking through the thousand year old castle; but this year every day felt like a week. Everyday she could feel the mounting tension between the ever expanding number of "Educational Decrees'' imposed by Umbridge and her newly assembled inquisition squad, and the ever growing discontent of the general populace of the castle. Even incidental disobedience was met with harsh punishment that was doled out by either Umbridge or a suddenly empowered Flich.

The Inquisition Squad - made up of select Slytherin students - patrolled the castle like police. They use their power to take house points for the barest reasons, and due to Educational Decree no. 24 which bans all student organizations that weren't approved first by Umbridge, Dumbledore's Army had to watch it's every step as any organized movement was carefully scrutinized.

Despite the slog of everyday, December had quickly arrived with a flurry of snow, and sparkling decorations. It brightened her spirits considerably to think that they were closing in on the holidays. She had already gotten through most of her Christmas shopping, finding some escape and joy in the process of finding or making gifts for the people she loves most. It left her imagining spending time in the French Alps with her parents for the first week of the break, and the library at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, Harry and the Weasley's for the remaining week. Just a few more days before she'd get on the train to go home.

Being with friends and family, away from the increasing political oppressiveness that was blanketing the school was a reprieve she needed. She missed her family sorely; the rhythm and flow of conversation and the way she could express herself to the very people who taught her how to communicate was something she didn't take for granted.

Harry needs people like that, she thought unable to help the concern over her best friend. She was all too aware that, try as she might, she wasn't able to communicate at that intimate level with him. She hoped that spending time with Sirius he might be able to find that peace. That it might help settle his state of mind and help him ignore the whisperings and clear attempt at villainizing him this year at school.

It wasn't unusual for him to be the center of focus at Hogwarts. In fact there wasn't a year where he didn't have his ups and downs in popularity and reputation; but this year it occurred alongside the trauma of watching a peer die, torture at the hands of his parents killers, then having that horror used to slander him and others, and politizised for the gain of unscrupulous politicians. Adding to everything, he was leading an illicit club that was essentially preparing his friends for war, and the target his friends had on their backs just for associating with him had already made him watch them get hurt.

She couldn't wait for him to be able to get his mind off of the last few months, or at least be around solely people who care about his well being.

She let out a sigh and set down her crocheting in her lap to cover her eyes with her hands. Groaning in frustration as her brain kept cycling through the same worries over and over. Even her second year wasn't this stressful and that had been the year of random muggleborn attacks by an ancient, giant snake that lived in the plumbing.

"Alright there Hermione?"

She dropped her hands and looked up, surprised. Neville Longbottom stood by an armchair, his round face concerned in the warm glow of the hearth. He held a herbology book in his hands like he had just come in to study.

"Oh! Hi, Neville." She smiled at her friend. "I'm not bothering you with all this, am I?" She asked, gesturing at the mess of yarn that was littering the surrounding area.

"No, no. You're fine," he said with a laugh, awkwardly scratching his cheek and shifting his weight on his feet. "You alright?"

"Just contemplating how long this year is going to be," she replied, tucking her legs closer. "And I'm scared of what's coming."

Neville had been one of her first friends at Hogwarts and had stuck by her even after she cast a leg locker curse on him in her first year when he tried to prevent her, Harry, and Ron from trying to sneak out of the dorms to stop the Sorcerer's Stone from being stolen. It had made her feel guilty for a long time but she realized that Neville never held it against her. At the time they were both trying to do the right thing regardless of what it could do to their friendship. In a lot of ways, it developed a near blind faith in each other that even Harry and Ron didn't have with her until after their third year. For that Neville was one of her dearest friends.

With a sigh, Neville sank into an armchair with his book in his lap. A log cracked in the fireplace, sending up bright orange sparks. "I know what you mean. Things haven't been right this year," he said, staring off at a group of second years in an alcove studying. One little girl had a bandage around her hand. "But, we at least know who our true friends are now."

He smiled, his eyes turning to hers and she felt a small kernel of pride for her friend. Neville was once a very shy, insecure boy, but it felt like he was shaping up to be a leader among them. He was one of the first persons outside of the Weasley's and her to stand by Harry in the face of the narrative being pushed and with him on their side others followed. The DA had brought something out in the quiet teen; a confidence and comradery that had only ever shown itself briefly over the years.

"You're right. We do know who our friends are," she confirmed, somehow hearing him say it eased some of her anxiety.

"Still, good thing there's a curse on the Defense position, right?" he said with a grin as he cracked open his book.

Hermione laughed. "Thank, Merlin!"

Grimmauld Place had been quite busy the last couple of days. Order members had been coming and going at a more frequent rate, several even taking up temporary residence in spare rooms. Sirius couldn't help but be glad that his work at renovating the place was getting some use. Even if most of the house was left untouched, many of the rooms and main living spaces definitely seemed much more hospitable. He had removed most of the cursed objects and anything that was overly macabre such as the House Elf heads in the foyer- this scandalized Kreature, who seemed to think it was a high honor to have one's head mounted after they passed. Sirius didn't bother trying to explain to the old elf that there was no honor in the tradition, knowing full well that it was a moot point to take with him.

It was a pleasant change to solitude. Moony had taken to spending a few days at a time at the old house and with him Tonks had 'coincidentally' shown up as well. Moody and Kingsley came by much more regularly, updating him on what was happening at the Ministry.

It was late but Sirius was awake, his internal clock so askew that it didn't register that adding garland to the mantle pieces and banisters at 2:30 in the morning wasn't when he should be decorating. But, It was the first Christmas he was going to spend with his godson since Harry was a baby, and it was the first Christmas he was going to properly be able to celebrate since his time in Azkaban; it was also the first Christmas Harry would be spending outside of the Dursley's or the Castle that he could remember. Sirius wanted everything perfect.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure slide into a gold painted frame of a French chateau that had been painted on a windy day, and clear his throat. Turning, Sirius looked at the painted face of a bored looking Phineas Nigellus. With a glare and a raised eyebrow, Sirius silently asked the image of his relative to give his message.

"I've been tasked with telling you that Arthur Weasley has been attacked on his patrol tonight. It would be best to send someone there to collect him and take him to St Mungos," said the bored voice of the former headmaster.

Sirius felt like a trapdoor opened in his stomach. Without thinking too much about it he bounded up the stairs two at a time and skidded down the second floor landing to stop at his cousin's door. Banging as loudly as he could on the hardwood he yelled, "Tonks! Wake up! Come on!"

He heard the portrait of his mother wake up and start screaming and several loud thumps from inside the room. The door swung open and an irate young woman with angry red hair standing straight up on end, and smouldering coals for eyes, stood in the doorway. "What the Hell, Sirius!" She screeched, breathing heavily in rage. A bump was rising on her forehead where she must have hit it falling out of bed.

Sirius didn't give her time to say more. "Arthur Weasley has been attacked at the ministry and needs help."

She gaped up at him, her hair shading into a more serious dark brown. A door further down the hallway opened and Remus stepped out with his wand raised.

"What's going on?" He said in alarm.

"Accio robe," Tonks waved her wand behind her as she stormed down the landing and stairs. Sirius started following her but was halted by Remus grabbing his arm

"Sirius! What's happening?"

Sirius ignored him and snatched the wand from his hand. He cast the patronus charm and watched as a giant spectral wolf-dog emerged from the tip, glowing with ethereal white light.

"Kingsley, you need to get to the Department of Mysteries, Arthur has been attacked. Tonks is on her way!" He spelled the messenger patronus on it's way even as he dragged a gaping Remus with him. He heard the rush of the floo before he reached the living room signaling that Tonks had just left. Pulling Remus in front of him he looked his best friend in the eye. "You need to floo to the Burrow and let Molly know about Arthur and get her to St Mungo's. I don't know if he'll be there when she arrives but she should be there."

He reached around Remus and grabbed a handful of shimmery floo powder and threw it in. He watched as flames shot up and changed into an emerald green before shoving his friend in with his wand.

Remus stood there shocked for a split second before calling out "The Burrow!" And vanished.

Sirius watched as the flames returned to their usual dancing orange tongues, feeling the weight of anxiety fill the empty space where his stomach bottomed out before. He backed up and fell into the seat behind him and placed his head in his hands.

There was no sleep that night. He eventually wrestled the curtains closed on his mothers portrait and then took to wandering the house. The only noise coming from his footsteps and the muttering of Kreature. After a while he found himself in his mother's old bedroom where Buckbeak was confined. The once lavish room was now beyond shabby. The velvet curtains were torn and the bedding shredded. Feathers and mattress padding littered the floor and deep gouges marred the wood of the late Victorian furniture. Ferret caresses littered the ground, mixing with mess leaving a pungent odor of death and confined animal.

He bowed to the hippogriff, more out of habit and respect than out of any necessity - by this point Buckbeak knew him well enough that he could approach casually. Once the gesture was returned he made his way to the creature and petted his beak. With a sigh, he looked around the room again. With a wave of his hand he performed a vanishing spell over the mess on the floor and began the process of righting the room. All he could do was wait. His mind was in no state for reading, and he knew that continuing to aimlessly pace the house was going to make him feel worse.

It wasn't until around 3:00 in the afternoon that he had any news. He felt someone entering the wards and then heard Remus call for him from the living room.

"How's Arthur?" he asked after rushing down the stairs, ushering his friend to sit.

"Thanks to Harry they got to him in time, but he's in rough shape," Remus responded heavily. His scarred, exhausted face looked much older than he was. "It seems he was bitten by some sort of snake. The venom is making it hard to keep close the wound, even with muggle methods. It was touch and go for a while but they think he'll be fine."

"Do you know how Harry found out?" That was the curious part.

"I'm not exactly sure. I heard someone say it was a dream but I didn't get the whole story," a contemplative look took over Remus' for a moment before he shook his head and sighed again. Looking back up at Sirius he asked, "Do you mind if Molly and the kids stay here? They might have to stay through Christmas, but it's closer to St. Mungos than the Burrow."

"Of course. That doesn't even need to be a question," said Sirius. While he and Molly might not get along very well, Arthur had been friendly with him, and of course Ron and the others were Harry's close friends. Any friend of his godson would be welcome.

"Great," Moony smiled, the expression took a few years off his tired face. "They'll probably be showing up in a couple of hours. I'm going to go see if I can get a bit of sleep." He stood up and walked past Sirius, giving him a firm clap on the shoulder, and headed up to his assigned room.

A couple hours later found him with a crowd of redheads busily coming in from the fireplace.

"Hello Sirius, dear," greeted a red eyed, puffy-faced Molly. She gave him a quick hug much to his own shock, and apparently the shock of the whole Weasley clan going by the slack-jawed expressions he could see in his peripherals. "Thank you for having us. I'm going to make some lunch for everyone."

"What in the…" mumbled Ron as he watched his mother scurry away.

"Well that was certainly unexpected," said George, lips pursed to the side in a contemplative way.

"You haven't seduced our mother have you, Sirius?" Asked Fred, conspicuously behind his hand.

Sirius smirked at the goof. "Not intentionally. But it isn't the first time a married witch has fallen for me."

He heard Ron's exclamation of disgust and the twin's sputtering laughter, but didn't pay it any mind as he spotted Harry. The boy's eyes were downcast and red rimmed. He shifted from one foot to the other like he felt anxious and unwelcome.

Frowning Sirius moved towards his godson and pulled him into an embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here, Harry," he said, squeezing firmly and patting his back. He felt Harry put his arms around him, his thin frame seemed to tremble for a moment. "I heard you did really well."

Harry's hands gripped the back of Sirius's shirt for a moment before he let go and pulled back. Without saying anything he moved away and headed up the stairs.

Sirius watched him leave in concern, the other boys following suit and heading up to their respective rooms. There was a deep sigh from behind him that redirected his attention. Ginny Weasley stood there looking up the bannister forlornly. He took a moment to observe her. Out of all of the Weasley children he had met, he had spent the least amount of time in her presence, but he had noticed that her eyes would follow Harry when they were in the same room. It was easy to tell that she cared deeply for him.

"He'll be alright, Love," he said, watching her jump slightly at the sound of his voice. Evidently she forgot he was there. "I'm not entirely sure what's eating him, but he'll work it out. Even if we have to beat some sense into him."

She smirked up at him. "Of course. The dumbass has gotten through worse. If he chooses to sulk beyond what's reasonable, it really is his own fault if we have to take extreme measures."

Sirius barked out a laugh, somehow knowing that Molly's little angel would swear in front of him was delightful. "Well, you're going to need some rest if you're going to wrestle Harry into seeing reason. Go up and get yourself settled." She shot him a smile and darted up the steps.

Despite himself, Sirius wandered over to the kitchen. Opening the door he found Molly standing at the counter busy over cutting slices of ham. Sirius was about to ask if she needed help when he noticed her shoulder trembling and heard her sniffling.

Worried about overstepping his bounds, Sirius hesitated before striding up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, holding her breath in an attempt to stop crying as she looked up at him with her swollen eyes. He never took notice how small she was. Having the personality of a lioness did a lot in making her feel larger than life, but standing there with her hunched shoulders and quivering lower lip, her flaming hair awry, she looked like a lost little girl rather than a woman ten years his senior and a mother of seven.

"Come here, Molly," he said soothingly as he gathered her up against his chest. She let go of her breath and just let herself wail against him, clutching him around the waist tightly. "It's okay, Sweetheart."

"There was so much blood. They couldn't get the wound to close, they even tried muggle stitches on him and they didn't work. They wouldn't let me see him for hours and wouldn't tell me how he was, and I just kept thinking about what if he died? What would I do? He's been there in my life since we were in school, I don't know anything else. But they wouldn't tell me if he was going to be okay." Her babbling voice just became a howl of fear and hurt.

Sirius just held her, rubbing between her shoulder blades comfortingly until her sobs died down. Eventually he let go of her with one arm - She gripped him tighter around the ribs- and reached up into the cabinet for a glass. Without letting go, he filled the glass full of water from the sink next to them and carted Molly to the kitchen table. Setting down the glass and pulling up a chair, he pressed her into the seat and followed suit into the one next to it. With her leaning against his shoulder and an arm around her, he handed her the water.

"Drink up, Love. Nothing good will come of you getting dehydrated." He watched her take a reluctant sip and then, as though she just realized how thirsty she really was, gulp down the rest. Taking the glass from her he deposited it onto the table and reached around her to tuck her into his shoulder. "Arthur is going to be fine, Molly. I know it's scary, but he's alive." She just nodded her head into his shoulder, rubbing her tears into his shirt.

"I'm going to make you something to eat now. Once you eat I want you to go upstairs and get some sleep," he said, ducking his head to look at her face. She looked up at him and nodded again. He got up and conjured some boiling water and made a cup of tea and set it in front of her with a pot of honey, then moved to the cutting board.

There was bread, cheese and butter out as well. Getting out a pan he lit the stove and started buttering the bread.

"I'm sorry," murmured Molly as Sirius layered cheese and ham on to the bread in the pan.

"What do you have to apologize for?" Asked Sirius, turning his head to look at her, confused.

"I...For what I said to you over the summer." Her head was bowed as she fiddled with the tea cup on the table. "It wasn't fair of me. I know I'm pretty conservative, and I just saw the tattoos and the hair and the drinking, and along with your last name and with 12 year of bias I automatically saw a rebel and a bad influence."

Sirius sighed as he flipped the sandwich. He didn't really want to talk to her about this now. To be honest, he did resent her a little for how she treats him and if he were to open up this discussion it might upset her more. He watched her as she waited for him to say something.

Turning back to his task he started speaking. "How old is your son Bill?"

"He's twenty five," she whispered.

"I was put in Azkaban on my twenty-second birthday without a trial." He heard the thud of her teacup hit the table, but he didn't look around. He wasn't sure if she had ever thought about how old he was when he was imprisoned, but evidently not. She had only ever considered him as he was from the papers, and how he fit into her idea of a scoundrel. As far as he knew she only really had a brief overview of what happened to him. He wanted her to realize that he had been cut off from life at the age of some of her children.

"I ran away from this house when I was sixteen," He said calmly, though he could feel her eyes on him now. "My family has a long history of being embroiled in the Dark Arts, as you know, and even before I entered Hogwarts some of the bastards had already joined forces with Voldemort and received the Dark Mark. I was expected to follow in their footsteps, which I refused to do. As you can imagine, even with your limited brush with my mother's portrait, that didn't go over very well. I never came back here until I offered it to Dumbledore as headquarters." Memories of his family made him itch. He could remember his mother's loud screeching as she sent curses his way and the bright flashes of light coming from her wand, but thankfully he usually blacked out.

"The Potters didn't think twice about taking me in and treating me as their own son. Those were my happiest years, being able to be brothers with my best friend. Even after school when the war officially started, I had James, Lily, Remus, and Peter. I thought I could get through anything as long as they were there."

Sirius plated the sandwich and walked over to the table where Molly sat, the tea cup held in both hands. He set the plate in front of her and took a seat. She watched him intently.

"Soon enough though, the secrecy and plots sowed doubt among us. Remus started doubting me and in turn I started to doubt him. When Peter betrayed us and made me take the fall, no one questioned it. Not Remus, not Dumbledore, not anyone else from the Order. Although, I did hear about McGonagall throwing up a stink about it at first, but she had bigger fish to fry at that time." He smiled a little thinking about his favorite teacher. Minerva's maternal streak could definitely match up to Molly's at times.

He let his smile fall. "I don't trust easily, Molly," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "The last time I saw Harry, I pulled him out of the wreckage of his home; I had to walk past James and take him from the dead arms of my best friend's wife, and then I had to hand him off to someone else. When I came back from Azkaban, it was to secrecy and plots, and having my every move monitored and scrutinized. And I saw it happening to Harry too, and I don't want that for him. I think he deserves too know what's happening, especially since it directly relates to him. I don't want him to doubt me, or you, and keeping him in the dark is a surefire way to make sure he can't trust us."

"I thought you just saw Harry as James' replacement," admitted Molly, her face turning a beet red in shame.

"I'll admit, he does look remarkably like James, even some of his mannerisms are alike. Sometimes when I see him it takes me a moment. But, to me Harry is that little boy who used to call me 'Pads' and would spend hours napping on my chest. I'd do anything for him." He sighed again, watching as her eyes welled up with tears again. "I might not have been able to be there for him much, but I really wanted to be. And I want to be there as much as I can now that we've been reunited. I understand, more than most could, what you have done for him by including him in your family. But please don't try to exclude me from being his family too. I'm his godfather, the responsibility I have to him is one of the only things I have left to cherish."

She started crying again; thankfully not the loud wailing sobs as before. She reached a shaky hand up to her eyes and wiped them, though more tears just followed. "I'm so sorry," she said thickly. "I never meant to...to…I didn't realize." She stuttered, trying to find the right way to apologize.

Sirius summoned a napkin and handed it to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I know you didn't." He watched her dry her eyes, and blow her extremely freckled nose. "Come on, eat your sandwich while it's still hot. I'll make the rest for the kids, alright?" She just nodded.

After making sure she ate, Sirius sent her up to bed. He finished making lunch for the kids and Remus, and got them all down to eat, except Harry who refused to come to the kitchen. Suddenly a bone tired weariness hit, making a small dull ache in the back of his skull.

"I'll make sure he eats something, Padfoot," reassured Moony, looking at his friend. "You haven't slept since before all this started."

Bobbing his head, Sirius walked out of the kitchen, clapping Remus' shoulder in thanks.

He found himself in the library, the ever present fire crackling in the hearth. He walked over to the fire and tossed in a cedar log and watched the sparks fly and let the aroma fill the air. He sat on the leather couch and just tried to decompress. Telling Molly all of that was emotionally draining. She wasn't someone he necessarily wanted to spill his trauma too, but he realized that for Harry's sake it was for the best that she came to some understanding of where he was coming from.

He looked at the coffee table and picked up the book laying there; he stared at the sedentary cover art of the book. There was an ache of longing in his chest. Tossing the book back on the coffee table he leaned back into his seat sliding down far enough to lean his head on the backrest. He looked at the garland full of twinkling fairy lights on the mantelpiece and wished it felt like Christmas.

Not knowing how long he sat there staring, possibly hours, he almost didn't notice Remus entering the space and flopping down into his favorite armchair.

"I'm surprised you aren't sleeping," Moony commented, as he looked around the room taking in the decorations.

"Same," Sirius replied in a flat voice. His body thrummed for sleep and the dull ache at the back of his head persisted, but the sleep still seemed to be a far off concept for him. They sat in silence for a while, but Sirius could tell that Moony had something on his mind. "What is it?" he asked eventually.

There was a beat more of silence before Remus spoke up. "I'm surprised that you were able to conjure a patronus," he said. There was an unspoken question there that Sirius wasn't going to answer unless he was asked directly. "I thought, given history, you would struggle more with it."

"You mean that, most of my happy memories are tainted now, and that the years in Azkaban have made it difficult for me to be happy?" Sirius looked at Remus and watched his friend cringe at his bluntness.

"Well, that's one way of putting it."

Sirius really hadn't thought about the memory he used to cast the patronus. He didn't even really recall thinking of a specific moment, it was more of a feeling he had used. It had been warm, and understanding, and content. As he considered it now, he realized that it was a memory. The more he let the feelings wash over him the clearer recollection became; the aromas of Christmas, warm arms, a voice telling a fantastical story, the feeling that he belonged…

His reverie was broken when he felt someone enter the wards of the house. "Someone's here," he said, standing up and moving to the front door. They weren't expecting anyone else today, and as he glanced at the clock he was surprised to read that it was almost 10:00 at night.

Quietly, as not to wake up his mother's portrait, he opened the front door. Standing before him was Hermione, trunk at her feet and a hissing basket in her hands; and like sunshine on a rainy day, she smiled up at him.

A grin erupted onto his face, and he didn't waste a second to reach out to her and pull her into a tight embrace. Nose in her spice scented curls, he hoisted her into the house and down the hall to the library, ignoring Remus' amused snort, and Hermione's poorly repressed giggling.

After plopping her down on the couch, he took the angry basket from her hand and opened it. A large orange rocket shot out and landed on the ornate rug in front of the fire. Crookshanks stood there, his large, fluffy tail swishing back and forth in annoyance as he took in his surroundings before he sat down and started washing his face.

"I thought you were going to spend Christmas with your parents in France," he said, sitting down beside her. His weight on the couch cushions made her bob upward slightly and her hair bounce adorably.

Remus came in carrying her trunk that she inadvertently left behind. "Oh! Thanks, Professor Lupin! I didn't mean to make you do that."

He just laughed at her. "No need to worry, it's not like Sirius gave you a choice," he said, waving away her apology, and falling into his chair.

Hermione smiled at him gratefully and then turned back to Sirius who had started pulling her curls to watch them bounce.

"I knew that Professor Dumbledore intended to portkey Harry and the others here sometime today so when I got on the train for home I was none the wiser about what was happening. I only found out when I got off at Kings Cross and my parents showed me the letter Professor McGonagall thought to send. I talked it over with them and we agreed I should be here for Christmas. I caught the night bus after dinner."

Sirius frowned a little at that. "You mean you're spending the whole of Christmas break here?" He asked, a little conflicted on his excitement. "Are you okay with that? I know you were really looking forward to seeing them."

Hermione nodded her head. "I'm rather worried about Mr. Weasley, and so are my parents - they've become rather good friends over the years - and I figured I'd come and see if I can be of any help. Mom always says that you need people when you're in crisis mode."

"That's very kind of you, Hermione," said Remus, giving her a proud smile.

Sirius, though, couldn't help but recall when she told him about being homesick for her parents. He didn't mention it, as she seemed happy to be here, and a selfish part of him didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth and shoved the concern down for later. He got to have her and Harry here for over two whole weeks. He had all of his loved ones in one place. The thought was dazzling.

"How is Mr. Weasley?" She asked, worrying her lower lip.

"He's in rough shape," replied Remus, knocking his head back with a sigh. "But the healers are pretty confident that he'll pull through."

"He got attacked by a large snake. The venom was magic resistant and also burned through muggle methods of closing the wound," added Sirius, knowing she would want more information. He saw her eyes widen at the news, and pulled her into his side, comfortingly.

She bumped her head up under his chin. His chest felt warm and tight at the affectionate gesture that was wholly for him alone.

"How are Mrs. Weasley and the others?" She pulled her knees up, tucking herself closer under his arm.

"Molly's, understandably, beside herself," he replied, thumbing her shoulder.

"Ron and the others are obviously upset, but are doing alright," interjected Remus, tapping the armrest. "Harry, though, won't come out of his room. I think he might be blaming himself somehow."

Sirius heard rather than saw Hermione roll her eyes and click her tongue. "That boy can really be an idiot."

Both Sirius and Remus share a synchronized snort of agreement that set Hermione off into a fit of giggles.

"Wanna read a little before heading to bed?" She asked, looking up at him and Moony.

Despite his exhaustion, Sirius wanted nothing more than to listen to her read to him. "Sure," he replied- Remus nodding along from his armchair- and summoned a book for her to read and handed it to her.

"The Voyage of the Dawn Treader? Didn't you finish this already?" She asked, confused.

"Yeah, but I feel like rereading it."

"Sirius is making me read Narnia and is upset I haven't started it since I finished Prince Caspian last week," informed Remus in an exasperated voice.

"I finished the whole series in a week!" exclaimed Sirius, indignantly.

"You better start reading, Hermione. Otherwise I'm going to end up throttled," Remus said, smirking at her.

With a snort she opened the pages and began to read:

"There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it."