[A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl, Darsynia, GaeilgeRua, GenericName404, and Liquid-Water for beta-reading this chapter!]
"I'm a…witch?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Harry said. "That's how you were able to see my magic wand. I'd spelled it to be hidden to muggles, but you're not a muggle. I think someone bound your magical core and then somehow warded it to warn them if you ever successfully cast a spell. Magic doesn't play well with electronics, so that's what happened to your telly."
"I don't remember anyone ever doing that to me, though," Hermione said.
"You wouldn't necessarily remember anything," Remus said. "There's a spell that allows someone to surgically remove memories."
"That's awful!"
"It is," Sirius said, "and highly illegal. However, I have some resources of my own that aren't exactly legal, but might help us sort out what happened to you."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "I feel sick that someone might have done something to me that I can't remember."
Harry took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," he said. "That's one of the reasons I said magic could be horrifying. We also need to figure out how to remove the ward from your magical core, though. Remember how Remus said this house is protected by a Fidelius Charm? As long as you're here, that beacon can't be tracked. If you leave the house, though, whoever did that to you will be able to find you again."
Hermione swallowed hard. "You mean I'm trapped here?"
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "There are very few houses protected like this in Britain, though, and this is the only one I had access to on such short notice. Remus, Sirius, can she stay here with you?"
"Of course," Sirius said. "We probably have the best private library in the country to research what's happened to her, too."
Remus nodded. "She's the victim of an offence against Magic itself, as far as I'm concerned. I want to help set that right."
"But…I can't just move in with people I barely know!" Hermione said.
Harry turned to her and put his other hand around her hand he was still holding. "Listen to me, please. If you leave this house, we don't know when you'll be attacked or how many people will attack you, but you're almost certainly going to be attacked. When that happens, the best-case scenario is that they'll take away your memories of the last few hours, and they'll probably kill you. We won't make you stay here, but I'm asking you not to go. I…I don't want to lose you, and I'm worried that if you walk out that door I'll either never see you again or, if I do, you won't remember who I am."
Hermione tried to look away from his eyes and failed miserably. "I don't want that, either," she whispered. If he ever realised what his eyes did to her, she would be well and truly lost.
"It's alright, dear," Remus said. "Any friend of Harry's is welcome here." He yawned. "I'm afraid it's gotten terribly late. Let's get some sleep and reconvene in the morning. We'll need a research plan to figure out what's happened to Hermione, and I suspect Harry will need to get to work at some point."
"I do," Harry said, "but thank Merlin I have evening shifts for the next week. I think we all need to sleep in tomorrow."
"I agree," Sirius said heartily. "Remus, would you–"
"Way ahead of you." Remus was already rising as he spoke. "I'll go clear out the guest rooms."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "Does he need any help? I don't want to be a bother."
"He'll be fine," Sirius said. "He has a Mastery in Defence Against the Dark Arts with a specialty in Dark Creatures. There's nothing up there that will give him any real trouble, and, to be honest, he's uptight enough that I think it does him good to let off steam periodically."
Hemione paled slightly.
"Um…Sirius?" Harry asked. "I think she just meant help cleaning, not–"
Harry was interrupted by a loud string of cursing, some crashes, the sound of something shattering, and at least one small explosion from upstairs.
The rest of the blood promptly drained from Hermione's face.
"Does he need any help?" Harry asked.
Sirius shook his head. "Nah, this happens every now and then. I'm just glad you weren't in here when I moved back in. The house was a war zone for a solid week. I had to bribe two of your current colleagues to come over and help clear it out." He smiled, reminiscing. "Alastor wanted booze and your cousin wanted Remus."
"What?" Harry asked. Hermione's jaw dropped.
"What's so weird about that? It's not like we were married at the time, though if he and Nymphy wanted to have another fling I can't say I'd mind."
Harry sighed. "Hermione, if you ever meet my cousin, under no circumstances refer to her as anything but 'Tonks.' She will harm you if you call her Nymphy. And I recommend ignoring Sirius when he says anything about his relationship like that. Half the time he's lying."
Against her better judgement, Hermione asked, "And the other half?"
"The other half he's understating it," Harry said. "I try not to think too hard about which is which."
"He gets his intelligence from his mother," Sirius stage-whispered to Hermione. "His father was dumb enough to ask me."
Remus walked back into the room covered with soot mixed occasionally with some blood. "I found the rest of the spiders," he said.
"They weren't in the attic?" Sirius asked conversationally. "Did you kill them all?"
"Yes," Remus said. "Unfortunately, it turns out their webs were the only things keeping the doxies from coming out of their nest."
Harry and Sirius cringed. "Damn doxies," Sirius said. "Did you get them, too?"
"Every last one of them, and detonated the nest when I was done," Remus said. He shot Harry a grin and, simultaneously, they both said, "It's the only way to be sure."
Hermione looked back and forth between them. "Aliens?"
Harry nodded. "I introduced them to classic muggle movies. Well, the awesome ones, anyway."
"And our lives are much the better for it," Remus said. "Now, if you'll excuse us, it's very late and I could use a backrub after battling dark creatures for control of your bedroom. Harry will get you anything you need."
"Thank you for your kindness," Hermione said. "Have a good night."
"You too," Remus said.
"Likewise," Sirius said. "Harry, don't forget to–"
"Silencio," Harry said. Hermione hadn't even seen him move his wand, but suddenly Sirius's lips were moving without sound coming out.
"He was about to embarrass the hell out of both of us," Harry said, "so I decided to skip that part."
Sirius pouted, then pointed at Harry's wand and gave him a thumb's up.
"Thanks," Harry said with a smile. "He was just complimenting the subtlety of my wand work on that one," he explained to Hermione.
Sirius nodded, waved, and wandered off.
Hermione sighed and sank down in her chair. "Tell me the truth, Harry," she said, "did you put a hallucinogen in that potion? I promise I won't be too mad at you."
He chuckled. "No, I'm afraid not. This is all real."
"I'm not sure I'm OK with that."
"Fair enough." He patted her shoulder. "I just dropped a lot of insane stuff on you. You have every right to some time to process it all. Take it easy tomorrow, alright? We'll get you sorted out eventually, but you deserve a day to come to terms with all of this."
"Tomorrow?" Hermione shot up in her chair. "Oh, God, I have to work tomorrow night."
"I'll handle that," Harry said. "Just give me your employer's address."
"Wait, what are you going to do to him?" Hermione asked. "I don't want to lose my job, but he doesn't deserve to have his mind messed with."
Harry paused. "Well, I was just going to use a charm that confuses people to get him to give you an extended unpaid vacation, but you're right, that's not really fair to him." He sighed. "Do you see why I've come to value the Statute of Secrecy so strongly? This kind of power is insidious. Hmmm…how much money does he need to break even for your shift?"
"About two hundred pounds, why?"
"I'll cut him a check to cover the cost of being closed during your shift, then. That way he doesn't lose anything."
She blinked. "Harry, you can't spend that kind–"
"I absolutely can," he said firmly. "My parents left me a ridiculous amount of money and I've hardly touched it. This is worth it."
"I can't ask you to spend your inheritance on something like this. I'll just find another job."
"That job is perfect for you," he said. "And my parents would love this, trust me. My mother was a muggleborn witch, just like you, and whoever did this to you would probably have done the same thing to her if they'd had the chance. I will not let them win. I have spent my whole life fighting to keep her name from being erased from our history books and I won't let you be erased, either."
She nodded and croaked out a "thank you," hoping it wasn't too awkward. She had never once had a man get furiously protective of her and the fire in those green eyes was bloody hot.
"Really, it's no problem," he said. "Oh, and is there anyone who's going to get worried if you're not at work or your flat besides Mr. Folkes?"
"Not really. Even my parents probably wouldn't notice I was gone for six months." She froze momentarily as she realised her answer was probably quite high on the list of "last words of serial killer victims," but only an expression of sorrow crossed Harry's face.
He wasn't going to kill her. This was all real…and that fact was somehow even scarier.
"Well, I guess that's…convenient for us, at least," Harry said. "Is there anything you'd like before bed? Food, maybe, or some warm milk or mulled wine?"
"No, thank you," Hermione said.
"OK, I'll show you to your room. Um…one thing before we go upstairs. The staircase has a bunch of house elf heads mounted on it, beings like Kreacher."
She couldn't hold back a gasp. "That's awful!"
"We know, we know," Harry said. "Sirius tried to take them down and Kreacher threw a fit, though. He said that was the only proper end for a house elf serving House Black and he didn't want to see their legacy thrown aside. So they're still up there. I'm sorry. It's pretty awful."
"I…don't even know what to say to that. I'll just try to ignore them."
"That's what I do, too," he said as he stood. "Shall we?"
Hermione allowed him to help her up and followed him out of the dining room and up the stairs. The display of house elf heads was slightly more disturbing than she'd feared it would be, but foreknowledge kept her from commenting and she did her best to ignore them like Harry was. They climbed past the darkened first floor and up to the second floor, where Harry led her to a pair of adjoining bedrooms with their doors open and gas lamps lit.
"The one on the left is yours," he said. "I sleep in the one on the right here when I visit. The bathroom is across the hall." He gestured at the door directly across from his.
"OK," she said, making no move to enter her bedroom.
"Would you like me to sweep the room once for you?" Harry asked gently.
"Oh God yes," Hermione said quickly.
He chuckled, pulled out his wand, and did a once-over of the room, including checking under the bed, pillows, and inside, behind, and below the chest of drawers. "It's clear," he said, "and Remus repaired all of the damage."
"I was wondering about that," she said. "Thank you."
"No problem. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, thank you." God, this was awkward. "Goodnight, Harry."
He nodded. "Goodnight, Hermione." His arms twitched as if he were going to embrace her, but he turned and went into his bedroom without doing so.
She sighed and hit the bathroom briefly before going into her bedroom. It was furnished much like the rest of the house, in old, dark woods and faded, slightly peeling wallpaper. The bed took up most of the room and was an old-style four-poster bed, roughly the size of a modern queen mattress. Ancient nightstands stood on either side, and a gas lamp in the opposite wall provided enough light to see by.
Hermione looked down at the bed and then herself. "Darn it. What am I going to wear now?"
A quick check of the dresser revealed it was entirely empty, which put paid to that hope. Hermione didn't want to bother her hosts over something as trivial as nightclothes, so she stripped down to her knickers, turned off the gas lamp, and crawled into the bed. It was shockingly comfortable for something possibly older than she was, and sleep came quickly to her.
Harry wasn't sure what he expected when he returned to 12 Grimmauld Place after finishing his 4:00 P.M. to midnight shift. They'd all settled in for a day of research by the time he left to "convince" Mr. Folkes to put Hermione on leave and then go to work, with Hermione proving a shockingly effective organiser of such efforts. He'd known she was a graduate student, of course, but seeing her roll up her sleeves and take charge of research on an unfamiliar topic in an unfamiliar and literally hostile library (in some places, fortunately marked off carefully by Sirius) was still surprising. She wasn't just good at researching history. She was good at research.
Dealing with Mr. Folkes had been fairly straightforward. For as gruff as he was, he was worried about Hermione and wouldn't accept Harry's money until Harry applied a small amount of magical persuasion. He couldn't deny being tempted to keep the cash, but he didn't want to see a muggle business hurt as a side effect of whatever scheme was afoot. A small Obliviation as he left ensured that he wouldn't be able to remember Harry's appearance, just that someone had come to talk to him.
Focusing on paperwork was a problem once he arrived at the office, since his thoughts kept meandering back to the witch trapped at Sirius's house. A serious crime had clearly been committed against her, but he didn't dare tell anyone until he knew more about what had happened and who might try to kill her, or him for knowing of her. He was almost excited to be called out with Auror Proudfoot to collect a statement and evidence from the scene of a murtlap robbery at a farm on the coast of Anglesey. A muggle farmhand who worked on the muggle side of the farm suffered from exposure from being left unconscious and petrified all night, but that lack of concern for muggles was sadly common in magical crimes. It was a routine call, but getting all the way out there and back kept him moving and kept his mind off the sudden insanity in his personal life.
So by the time he returned, he was only mildly obsessing about how the day might have gone, and he was definitely not expecting to be greeted in the entrance hall by Remus.
"Harry," he said, his voice low and slow with exhaustion, "talk to your witch. It's nearly 12:30 and she's still researching. I don't think she's eaten anything since you left. Sirius has been hiding in the master bedroom for the last three hours and refuses to come out."
"Wait, what?" Harry asked. Leaving aside the question of whether she was "his" anything, how did she scare off Sirius?
Remus sighed. "Sirius made a joke about her working too hard a few hours ago and she just glared at him. The last time he saw that look on a woman was a week before our N.E.W.T.s when he swapped your mother's ink with special ink spelled to disappear after twelve hours. It was reversible, of course, but the damage she did to him was already done." Remus shuddered.
"I understand," Harry said. "I'll talk to her. You get some sleep."
"Thank you. Goodnight, m'boy."
Harry gave Remus a quick hug. As soon as the older man left, Harry called Kreacher and asked him to set two places for supper. The elf grumbled perfunctorily and popped away to do so, and Harry climbed up to the second floor.
Hermione was still in the same clothes she'd worn the day before when Harry slipped into the library. She'd tied her long, bushy hair back into a messy ponytail, and she sat on the floor with different stacks of books all around her and two large rolls of parchment laid out in front of her. She moved from book to book seamlessly, taking a book from one pile, jotting down a quick note, and moving it to a different pile without ever losing focus. Harry hated to interrupt her, but there was only so long a human could do that kind of work without eating.
"Hi," he said as soon as she put the next book away.
She jumped a little and looked up. "Oh, hello. I didn't see you there." She looked around. "Where are Remus and Sirius?"
That she had apparently not noticed Sirius's absence for three hours was mildly worrisome. "They've gone to bed, Hermione, but Remus said you needed supper."
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said. "I'm in a groove here. I'll just eat at breakfast tomorrow."
"Today," Harry corrected. "It's well after midnight."
"Already?" She blinked. "I guess that explains why you're home. Oh, how rude of me! How was your day?"
"Boring," Harry said, "so it was a good day. I could really do with a bite to eat, though. Will you join me?"
"Go ahead without me," she said. "I have a lot to do."
"It'll wait," Harry said gently. "Please join me."
She shook her head. "I'd really rather work."
Harry wasn't all that great at sussing out emotions, but something about the tightness in her facial muscles warned him there was more going on here than hunger. With nothing else to go on, he knelt next to her and looked her in the eyes. "What's wrong?"
She glared at him. "It's easy for you to say this can wait. You don't have a potential death sentence hanging over you if you leave the house you're only in at the sufferance of people you barely know. I have one opportunity to get this research right before you all get bored of me and throw me out on my rear."
Unbidden, the memory of himself at thirteen asking Sirius if he was so mad at him that he was going to send him back to the Dursleys floated to the surface, and Harry now knew why that had made Sirius flip from fuming to crying in the space of a few seconds. He reached out and took Hermione's hands in his. "Hermione, listen to me. I promise you that we're not going to get bored of you and throw you away. Right now, you need our help, we're going to make sure you get it, and do you know why?"
She shook her head, unable or unwilling to take her eyes off of his.
"Because," Harry said, "we've all been right where you are, desperately needing someone to take us in because no one else would. And all three of us know how it feels when no one does."
Hermione stared at him for another second before launching herself over her parchment and hugging the life out of him. Neither Remus nor Sirius were much for hugging and Ginny had never been much for physical affection besides very physical affection, so he still wasn't really used to hugs.
He thought he could get used to this sort of hug, though.
Harry returned the embrace for a few breaths before clearing his throat. "So can I tempt you downstairs for some dinner?"
"Yes…but…um…" her voice was muffled from her head still being buried in his shoulder, "I think I overextended with this hug. I can't let go of you or I'll fall into my parchment and I'm worried the more recent notes haven't yet dried."
"No worries." Harry rose to his feet while carrying her weight along with his own. She was small enough that he'd probably dead-lifted more, anyway. Once he was back on his feet, he picked her up and deposited her on the outside of her ring of parchment and books.
"Oh, thank you," she said, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "That certainly took care of that problem."
"I have my uses." He held out his arm. "Now, I believe I promised you a dinner date."
She took his arm with a trembling hand. "I believe you did."
He looked down at her hand. "Are you alright?"
"I…um…think my body is upset with my eating habits," she said.
"Let's get us fed, then," he said, and led her out of the library and downstairs to the kitchen. That room felt far less cavernous since Remus and Sirius had redecorated it, and he thought it probably wouldn't bother Hermione too much.
Two plates of stew, a loaf of fresh bread, and a block of butter sat waiting for them, with the stew under warming charms whose simple utility impressed Hermione. They tore into their food and in no time at all were sitting there stuffed.
"Do you feel a little better?" Harry asked.
She nodded. "Thank you. I…I'll never be able to thank you enough, will I? That's starting to sink in."
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We're helping you because that's the right thing to do, not because we want to obligate you."
"I appreciate it regardless," she said. "If there's ever anything I could do…not that I can really do anything useful, I suppose."
"You might be surprised one day," Harry said. "Worry about that tomorrow, though. We should probably call it a night now."
"You're probably right." Hermione yawned. "Thank you for dinner, by the way."
"Oh, that was Kreacher, not me," Harry said. "Thank you from both of us, Kreacher. It was delicious."
Hermione jumped a few inches as Kreacher popped up next to Harry. "Kreacher is unimpressed by the palates of half-bloods and muggleborn," he said, and popped away again.
"Did he just insult us for liking his food?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged as he rose from his seat. "That's just his way. I think he really does like us."
Hermione rose, as well, and picked up her bowl. "Should we clean these?"
"No, that just makes him angry," Harry said. "He'll take care of them."
She frowned. "But…why?"
"That's a long story," Harry said. "I'll tell you tomorrow."
"All right." Hermione nodded and allowed him to lead her upstairs.
When they got to their rooms, Harry took a look at her clothes. "I…um…noticed you're still wearing the same clothes you wore to dinner yesterday. Would you like to borrow some of mine to sleep in?"
"Oh, thank you," she said. "I thought about asking, but you're all so much bigger than me that I can't imagine anything would fit."
Harry smiled. "Magic," he said, and gestured for her to follow him into his room. He pulled out some clean boxers and a cotton undershirt, took a careful look at her, and waved his wand at the clothing to shrink it down. "Here you go," he said. "They're clean, I promise."
"I'm…not used to this yet," Hermione said as she accepted the clothes. "Thank you."
"No problem." He dug around in his dresser some more. "Oh, good, I have a spare toothbrush and travel toothpaste tube." He passed those to her, as well, and she accepted them gratefully.
As she turned to go, something seemed to catch her eye. "Is that you on that poster?" she asked, gesturing at the one hung directly above his headboard of him diving for a snitch during the 2001 UK Quidditch Playoffs.
Harry felt a blush begin to rise to his cheeks. "Um…yes. That's for a sport witches and wizards play on brooms called 'Quidditch.' I played professionally for a few years. Sirius hung it in here after I moved out to mark this as my room in case I ever stayed over."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You were a professional athlete?"
"Yes." His blush was definitely rising. "I started in my first year at wizarding school—the youngest person to play Seeker in a century—and I kept up with it for a few years after graduating."
"Wow," she said. "I don't think I've ever even met a professional athlete before." She blushed again for some reason. "Goodnight, Harry, and thank you again."
"You're welcome, Hermione. Goodnight."
After brushing his teeth and laying down to sleep, he wondered what she'd been thinking, whether she'd been embarrassed about seeing his boxers or thought he was a meathead because he'd been an athlete.
He never guessed the actual answer: "Good Lord! Those trousers leave nothing to the imagination. Must. Not. Steal. Poster."
