Disclaimer: All canon characters, places, plots and situations from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this.

Warnings: Rated M for language, violence and scenes of a sexual nature in later chapters.
Warnings for this chapter: Reference to violence, trauma.

A/N: So I've had a playlist of music I've been building and listening to since I got the idea for this story several months ago. I'm wary about sharing music, pics that inspire me because I don't want to spoil anyone's personal read of the story, but if you would like to see the playlist I'll be posting it up on my profile with reference to which chapters each song spoke to. Music is a big part of the HP universe for me. I remember I was listening to Stars (In Our Bedroom After The War) and Bloc Party (A Weekend In The City) when I read Deathly Hallows and any time I hear tracks off those albums I get the shivers. Anyone else have music they specifically associate with the HP stories? Oh, last thing. This chapter is pretty much emo-ville. Don't hate me. *runs away*

Chapter Five: Behold My Reflection

oOoOoOo

The first morning he voluntarily stepped into the Ministry, Sirius was as nervous as a house elf at Malfoy Manor. Although his name had technically been cleared now for six years, it was still fresh to him, the last times he had been in this place before the night of the Veil and the day of his retrieval, both of which had been too quick and dreamlike to count. No, what he remembered most vividly was being dragged before Ministry officials in shackles, screaming his innocence and grief when he'd already been pronounced guilty for the death of his friends anyway. He'd been pulled kicking and screaming from the room. Even now, knowing that the filthy rat bastard Wormtail was gone, killed by the hand of the same lord he'd betrayed them all for, his own hands still itched for blood. He still dreamed about it. He would never be able to have his revenge on Wormtail, but joining the Aurors meant he could still make up for the past. Which is why he was also nervous because he was running late. He'd never been a morning person, and thirteen plus years without a job left him completely unprepared for the early morning schedule.

Walking in a free wizard, being greeted warmly by the recruitment Auror who took them on a brief tour of the Ministry, bumping shoulders with fellow trainees as though he actually had a right to be there was both lucky and almost too good to be true. When the recruitment Auror pointed down a dark passage to the Department of Mysteries, he averted his eyes. If anyone knowing his story had seen him then, they would probably assume he'd turned away so as not to be reminded of the night he had 'died'. This wasn't true, however. He turned away because he knew Hermione was just beyond that black door somewhere, doing… Unspeakable things and hating him. He wasn't sure what he'd done, only that he'd either said or done – actually, probably both – to upset her, and Remus had warned him to keep his distance for a bit. She'd gone for a run the day before and he'd watched her leave from a window. He'd taken up going with her as Padfoot because he didn't like the idea of her being alone in a deserted area. He knew if she knew this she'd be even more likely to hex his gonads off. He'd worried nevertheless, feeling deflated and chided despite not having actually heard her tirade.

When they arrived at last to the Auror Department and he spotted Harry in his Lead Auror robes, his heart lifted a little. Maybe life could be better on the other side of Wizarding Law? Harry wore a serious, professional look, but he smiled widely when the trainees arrived. "Hello everyone," said Harry, glancing momentarily at Sirius. "This is the Auror Department, let me show you around and tell you a little bit about what goes on here and how we work," said the Boy-Who-Lived, and as Sirius watched his godson command silence and awe so effortlessly, he was filled with bittersweet pride for the man James' son had become. Sirius couldn't help comparing the techniques and procedures Harry was talking about to what had happened when he'd been arrested. He was confused, not really understanding what he was feeling, it kept changing. It felt like there was a hand twisting his stomach.

"So we welcome you all to the British Auror Training Programme, and trust you will all give us your very best. I hope to see you all back when practical training starts in two weeks, and more importantly at your graduation six months from now," he finished. Sirius knew he'd be done long before then. His wand hand was itching for practicals. Two weeks of study and tests would probably do his head in. At least when he was working with his wand he didn't need to think about anything else but the goal.

That was the sum of their orientation, and after they'd been dismissed, Sirius wandered over to the Ministry canteen. It was lunch-time and Harry had asked Sirius to stick around. He tapped a foot, looking around, absorbing the smells and sounds and sights of what he thinked he hoped was soon to be his own workplace. He didn't miss the few looks that were being sent his way. He wondered if it was his reputation as a playboy or a deranged murderer that they were whispering about. The trickles of people entering the canteen increased, and Sirius craned to see if Harry was about. He noticed the unruly black hair and the flash of glasses and smiled, before noticing that Harry wasn't alone.

It was about the same time she'd noticed him, clearly not expecting him by the slight widening of her eyes. It seemed like nanoseconds before they were upon him. Harry was looking between them quizzically. Hermione opened and closed her mouth twice before Sirius decided to put her out of her misery.
"Look love," he said, "I've just had a rollercoaster of a day and I can't really deal with you telling me off right now, okay? Whatever I've done, you can get on my case tomorrow alright? Sorry Harry but if it's okay we can meet for lunch another day." Before either of them could say anything more, he strode steadily through the crowd and walked through the first Floo he could see.

Hermione cricked her neck and let out a steady, long breath from her lips. She was in a secluded part of the park, on the grass, her feet bare and her hair loosed. She'd cast all the necessary charms for privacy and secrecy, and she was dressed in simple cotton clothing. She had access to fresh water. She did everything she was supposed to do, and it still wasn't bloody working. She wanted to yell, throw something – anything to release her frustration and unease, but she forced herself to focus.

Her object of hatred was a peanut butter sandwich she had packed for lunch. She was trying to call it to her using wandless magic, but although she had meditated for an hour before the attempt, following everything she'd learned, she couldn't even get a crumb to come her way. Taking a deep breath and pushing all her thoughts away, she aimed for a blank mind, then stretched out her wand hand, and focused. A solid minute went by before she felt the tingling down her arm, the telltale trickle of magic, and she grinned. She felt a single bead of sweat roll down her forehead, tickling her, and she fought the urge to wipe it away. Not when she was so, so close. The sandwich was moving! It was creeping along the ground towards her! No, wait. It was creeping away from her, courtesy of a grey squirrel. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she watched the little creature make off with her lunch.

This should've been easy, she had done it before. It was supposed to be the most simple thing she was going to practice today, and it had stumped her. And the embarrassing part was that it wasn't even that impressive, it was wandless magic she was already supposed to be able to do, like lighting a fire. Small fry. She had planned on warming up to a wandless Auguamenti at least. "Argh!" She picked up her wand and set the nearest shrub on fire. She was losing it. That's what it was, she was losing her mind. Was this a side-effect of playing with wandless magic? Perhaps she should add this to the notes. She packed up her things and started the long walk home. She just needed some time to think. As she passed her usual running path, she thought of Padfoot with a pang. It was now three days since she'd seen Sirius at the Ministry, and it seemed like he was still avoiding her, in either form. She knew he was spending half-days at the Ministry and studying at home, but she never saw him in the mornings or the evenings when she arrived from work. A few times she'd been in bed when she'd heard his bedroom door open or close, and she'd felt torn between letting him have the space he so clearly desired or confronting him.

She knew it as sure as anything, that somehow, the reason she'd failed at training was because of things with Sirius. Tonight. She would tell him tonight. It made her feel sick, but she would. Her thoughts were interrupted by the flutter of wings and she looked up; a snowy white owl was hovering with a roll of parchment. Luckily she had some crackers with her; the owl wasn't particularly impressed, but neither did it nip her. She unrolled the paper, her heart quickening at the words written there.

Meeting, HQ tonight. Urgent. All members to be present. HP

Three days earlier.

"What the hell was that?" asked Harry, watching Sirius disappear into the crowd. He turned to Hermione. "Well?" He watched her gape for a second longer before she sunk into a chair. He pulled out the chair beside her, sitting down.

"I'm a horrible person," she said, sniffling suspiciously.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Ok, come with me," he said, and they headed towards his office. He closed the door behind them. When he turned back to her she had her hands pressed to her eyes. "Oh Hermione." He joined her sitting on his desk and pulled her close to his side.
"You know you're my best friend, right?" he said. She nodded, swiping at her cheeks. "Good. Then you know I'm not going anywhere." She gave a large hiccup at that, her lower lip trembling, and for a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears properly. When she didn't, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was really awful to Sirius the other night when he came home drunk from your guys' night out. And now he hates me." Harry thought for a moment before speaking.

"Firstly, I doubt Sirius hates you." She gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh he's upset about something, I'm not saying he isn't. But hate? Hermione, Sirius couldn't hate you, he cares about you. You've been a real friend to him. Whatever it is that's happened, whatever it is you've done, it can't be all that bad. It takes a lot to destroy Sirius' loyalty," he said. "But I have to say, you guys squabble all the time and I haven't seen anything like this before. What happened?"

"He came home drunk and complaining and I was so tired Harry, I'd just fallen asleep and it was a bad one." He rubbed her back, encouraging her on. "I heard him and I just got so mad, you know? I just-" Tears leaked down her cheeks anew, and Harry sighed. He lifted a corner of his robe and used it to dab her tears away.
She laughed shakily. "You know you could have conjured a tissue, right?" she said. He smiled at her and was rewarded with a watery smile back. She took a fortifying breath. "Harry I've been such a hypocrite. I really do believe that Sirius needs us all to be a little tough with him, but I'd be lying if I said that's all I was doing. The truth is, it was more about me and my issues than his." She picked at a fingernail.

"Hermione, you need to tell him," said Harry, chasing her eyes when she turned her face away. "None of us have said anything, ok? It's yours to tell and I think you should. I know it hurts, but you can't hide forever Hermione. Not now. Not with everything that's happening."

"I know," she said quietly.

After the war the Order had been officially 'disbanded'. Unofficially, whoever was available would meet at Grimmauld once every month or so. The peace in the years after the war had lulled them into a sense of complacency and meetings would usually turn into a social gathering with a few updates from Tonks and Harry if there was any relevant Auror activity they could share. This evening was different. Everyone was there; even Severus Snape, who still looked as though he had been forced to swallow a slug at wandpoint. Faces were grim – even George Weasley sported a serious look.

Harry was holding court, counting on his fingers. "Two muggles in Edgware, dead without a mark on them. We got an Auror into the morgue to check it out. Definitely Avada. And one body in Stratford, also muggle," said the green-eyed man. Sirius noticed him glance at the witch across the room. "But this one had been ripped apart by what the Muggle news is calling an unidentified wild animal." Sirius flicked his eyes to Hermione; the blood had rushed out of her cheeks.

"Officially the Auror Department hasn't confirmed anything, so it's not public yet, but we're pretty sure we're looking at two of Voldemort's men", said Tonks. "Yaxley and Fenrir Greyback – neither of them were found after the war. We've literally just confirmed it." Everyone began talking at once.

"What I was going to say", said Harry loudly, over the chatter, "is that we have reason to believe these two criminals in particular have grudges against the Order. The fact that these killings have taken place so close to London is a concern." Sirius looked around; Hermione was gone. Someone, maybe Bill, shouted out a question to Harry, and Sirius took the opportunity to slip out of the room.

He found her in the library. She was sitting on her favourite sofa by the fire, her legs curled under her, her arms crossed tightly, staring sightlessly into the flames. She looked exhausted, and for the first time Sirius felt his stomach turn at the possibilities. "Hermione", he said softly, not wanting to frighten her, but when she didn't tell him to leave and didn't turn to hide her tears, he sat down beside her. And as though it were the most natural thing, she turned towards him and buried her face against his chest. He gathered her into his arms, wondering why it was that his own heart felt like it was breaking when he saw her cry.

Eventually she calmed down, but it was a good thirty minutes before she would speak. During that time Remus, Harry and Ginny all poked their heads in, but he would just shake his head.
"I'm so stupid." Those were the first words she said, and he frowned. Before he could formulate a response, she continued. "I let my guard down. I should have known better. Six years is nothing. War isn't something that happens neatly, in a vacuum." She was still curled up against his side, with his arm around her. One of her hands was bunched in his t-shirt and there was a wet patch where most of her tears had soaked through the fabric.

"It was building for years. We fought a war that started before we were born. I've been so naïve." She laughed, a bitter sound. "I've known, I've always known. We didn't get all of them after the battle. It was just so good to push it down. But it's been impossible since I've been back. The nightmares are awful." Her voice tapered off. "Evil doesn't take vacations." He hummed in agreement.

"I've got scars," she said absentmindedly, almost as though he wasn't even in the room and she was talking to herself. Intuitively, he decided to remain silent, let her talk. "There's one from here to here." She drew a line from her left hip to the crease where her torso met her thigh. "Anton Dolohov, a knife on the day of the final battle. I was just lucky it the knife wasn't cursed. It took a long time to heal anyway. They all did. It's not about the scars though," she said, scratching at her arm. He looked down but it was all smooth skin. "It's up here," she said, tapping against her temple with one finger. A silence fell upon her, and he forced himself to wait a few minutes, to not be his pushy self. Eventually he asked her.

"Hermione, what are your nightmares about?" Her body sagged, with relief that he'd asked or with grief, he couldn't tell. And then she told him.

It always went the same. She was seventeen again, lying on the marble floor at Malfoy Manor, her body thin and weak from months of living on the run. They'd been snatched. Harry and Ron were taken to the cellars below, and she could hear them calling her name as she was dragged in the opposite direction. Her nightmares transported her back to those moments, the mad cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman's manic fury frightening, and the searing pain as that filigreed dagger sliced into her skin. Her own screams of agony as the Cruciatus Curse coursed through her body again and again until she could barely make a sound, her throat was so raw. Her stomach had turned sickly with the deep surety that she had failed Harry, would never have a chance to tell Ron how she felt, or see her parents again. The tears that leaked out of her eyes and onto the cold floor, without effort.
And then, the sight of Greyback's cruel, twisted face grinning with glee, him licking his lips when Bellatrix had grown bored of her. "It's all yours to do with as you wish." The icy realisation that she would probably be violated and then killed. If it hadn't been for sweet, loyal Dobby who gave his life to protect theirs… The words poured out of her, her darkest secret.

"Sometimes I think it might've been better if I died that night," she whispered, the words and her voice sending a cold shiver up his spine. "If I'd died, then he wouldn't have done it. He wouldn't have been angry, he wouldn't have gone to them." The sightless glaze of her eyes told him she was remembering, seeing a different time and place. "I found them. On the living room floor. Their blood was mixed up, soaked through the carpet. I used to lie on that carpet with them when I was a child, you know. We used to build with Lego, watch TV, tell stories and secrets. Mum and I used to lie in front of the fire with hot chocolate." She smiled a little, but it was gone just as quickly. "I was too late. They died because of me. And he's still out there. And I know. I know he's back for me." He rubbed hand up and down her arm. She was ice cold so he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry Sirius," she whispered.

"It's okay love," he said, though he didn't know what she was apologising for. He was still trying to figure out what to say, if anything, when he realised she'd fallen asleep. Carefully, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom, laying her on the bed and pulling off her shoes. Harry came in behind him; the house was quiet beside, everyone having left earlier. His godson nodded at him, and gave him a pat on the arm before moving to his friend, pulling a blanket from a cupboard and covering her gently with it. He sat beside her, stroking her forehead with just the tips of his fingers. It was clear she'd been crying, but her face looked so peaceful now.

Sirius found he'd made his way to his own bedroom somehow. He lay in his bed, ruminating over everything he'd learned in between her sobs. The palpable mixture of grief, anger, guilt and fear she expressed was so similar to his own, and he wondered how he ever could have been so blind to think he was alone when even the woman who had helped him save himself, knew what it was to drown.

Sneak Peak Chapter Six.

"Honestly all I remember is screaming," said Sirius, making a motion around his head. "And hair."