July 1994

It didn't take long for Hermione to realise what Sirius had done. Every time her father came within two feet of her, he was overcome by the inescapable need to vomit.

Thankfully, he had put this sudden illness down to food poisoning, although her mother had pulled her aside one morning and asked very seriously if she had anything to do with it.

Hermione had rolled her eyes and reminded her that she wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, so her mother had dropped the subject, not really all that upset by the turn of events.

The lack of notification from the Ministry had bothered Hermione for a while, but she was hardly going to complain.

Maybe just having an adult magical signature near her was enough for the Ministry to assume it was the adult performing magic.

If that were the case, it seemed horribly unfair on Muggle-born students, since anyone with a magical parent could practice magic during the holidays, and no one would be any the wiser.

Hermione spent her last three days at home preparing to leave for good. All she could take to The Burrow without arousing any suspicion was her school trunk, which was fine for clothes and school books, but that was it.

Luckily, she had picked up another magically expanded satchel in Diagon Alley, which held everything else. She had also managed to find an old bookstore just on the cusp of Knockturn Alley, where she had found a book on Empathy, hoping for some sort of explanation.

Unfortunately, and Hermione made sure to read it at least three times before admitting it (it wasn't hard, it wasn't a very long book), the information offered within it was practically useless.

Empaths had been assigned as 'Dark Creatures' in a report issued by the Ministry of Magic in the mid-1800s, and all documentation about them was destroyed, probably so it couldn't be used to dispute the ruling.

This book had been published fairly recently but - of course - no Empaths had come forward to offer their experience, so all it could really tell her for certain was that she could 'sense other people's emotions' - which she already knew - and 'see and communicate with living spirits'.

That had given her pause for thought, and the explanation did not help in the slightest:

Since no Empaths have offered their services for study, this is merely a theory. Every magical human has a body, a soul, and a spirit - it is the spirit which remains as a ghost upon death, if the witch or wizard chooses not to 'move on'. The body and soul, within life, are joined together. They can survive without one another, but will no longer be truly alive.

That much, Hermione understood.

Victims of the Dementors' Kiss were, after all, still alive (medically speaking).

And Voldemort was still around, even though his body was destroyed (even if the reason behind that was a mystery).

So far, so good.

The spirit of the living magical human ('living spirit') can travel within a certain radius of the body, independent of the physical form, and can in theory 'attach' themselves to others in order to travel elsewhere. This would be extremely rare, however, as the relationship between the body-and-soul and the spirit is a one-way relationship; upon rejoining their body, the spirit would become aware of happenings around the body, but the body-and-soul would not be aware of the spirit's departure or return.

That was the part that made Hermione's head hurt. She assumed that it meant that if her spirit left her body and travelled to the other side of the world, she herself would be oblivious to that, as well as to anything that her spirit happened to see, even when her spirit returned.

It made her wonder why 'living spirits' even bothered to leave their bodies in the first place, if they could do nothing about anything they saw.

In any case, it seemed to be a pointless piece of information, since the chances of her encountering a 'living spirit' seemed unlikely - after all, her Empathy seemed to have developed before term ended, and she had been in a castle with several hundred students - she didn't recall seeing extra ghosts, or extra students - however these 'spirits' appeared.

So that was something she put out of her mind.

The only thing that the book did tell her was that Voldemort was believed to be an Empath.

Whether that was true or not, it certainly seemed to disprove the rubbish the Ministry had spouted about Empaths - if that were true, Voldemort would have been even more dangerous than he had been.

True or not, she was definitely not going to mention her Empathy to anyone unless she was sure she trusted them; she still remembered the reactions to Bethany's ability to speak Parseltongue in second year (and, honestly, how ridiculous could wizards get that speaking another language was feared to be evil?).

By Wednesday, her room was barren, but for her bed, wardrobe and desk. All that was left to empty was one of the desk drawers, which contained memorabilia from her childhood - certificates, old letters, Muggle school records.

While she sorted through them, she found a clean sheet of paper and a pen, and wrote a note to her mother.

Dear Mum

I'm sorry to have left like this. Father informed me that I would no longer be welcome back here if I went away this summer, and I'm calling his bluff.

If it's not a bluff, I don't care.

I can't live like this anymore. Don't worry about me; I'll be alright.

Please, please reconsider what you're doing. We both know that you would never allow a partner of mine to treat me the way Father treats you.

I'll write when I can, when I can figure out a way to get a letter to you that he won't burn on sight.

I love you.

Hermione

She folded the letter and placed it on her pillow, before putting the last certificate in her satchel.

Underneath the certificate, right at the back of the drawer, was a leather wallet.

Hermione frowned at the sight, not remembering ever being given something like that. When she turned the wallet over, she found a badge that looked like a police shield, except the emblem was two crossed wands shooting sparks.

She sat on her bed and stared at it, trying to understand what it was and where it came from. Tentatively, she opened the wallet to find an ID card with a very familiar face - much younger, but familiar.

Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Auror Division

Sirius Orion Black

Date of Birth: 26.6.60

Issued: 28.7.78

Hermione's eyebrows rose into her hairline. She had known Sirius was an auror (there had only been one very brief note in one of the books, but it had been there) … but what on earth was his badge doing at the back of a drawer in her bedroom?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing loud and shrill downstairs.

Hermione didn't hurry - Mr Weasley would relish the chance to play with the doorbell for a while - and dropped the badge into her satchel. She placed the satchel - deceptively flat - in her trunk on top of her school robes, and closed the lid, scooping Crookshanks up as he threatened to slip out of the door.

"Oh no you don't, darling," she cooed. "You need to come with me."

Depositing Crookshanks into his carrier, she dragged her trunk out on to the landing and shut the door firmly.

Hermione hurried down the stairs, placing the pet-carrier on the side table where the telephone resided, before opening the door.

Mr Weasley rang the doorbell once more, beaming at the now-louder sound. "Remarkable!" He said cheerfully. "It's good to see you again, Hermione."

"Hello, Mr Weasley," Hermione said, shaking his hand. "Thank you for allowing me to stay for the rest of the summer."

"Oh, not at all!" Mr Weasley assured her. "Think nothing of it! Now by some amazing miracle, we've managed to get a car for today. I don't know how we'll get Bethany though; we'll never get a car that close to the match. Are your parents here?"

"They're at work," Hermione said, pretending she didn't feel a pang of sadness at the thought of possibly never seeing her mother again. "We said our goodbyes this morning. I'll just go and get my trunk."

"Don't worry," another voice said from behind Mr Weasley. "We'll get it. Good to finally meet you, Hermione."

Hermione didn't need an introduction to know that this was one of Ron's oldest brothers. He was closer to the twins' build, still tall, but stocky with it. His face was tanned and even more freckled than Ron's, and when she shook his hand, she could feel numerous callouses. "Good to meet you too, Charlie."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "How'd you guess?"

"Probably the burns," a second unfamiliar voice said. "You know Ron tells all and sundry what you do for a living."

This had to be the oldest brother, Bill, but he wasn't a bit like Hermione had pictured him. Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts, so she had assumed he would resemble Percy.

But, no.

Bill was tall and lankier than Charlie, built more like Ron, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail and an earring with what looked like a dragon fang dangling from it.

Rather than shaking her hand, he bent over it and brushed a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Charmed, Miss Granger. Honestly, Charlie, where are your manners?!"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Dragons are easier than people. Where's your trunk, Hermione?"

"At the top of the stairs," Hermione answered.

She should have known better, really, than to assume that Head students had to be as stuffy and overbearing as Percy was.

After all, James Potter had been Head Boy, and he had been a Marauder.

And Lily Potter had been Head Girl, and she hadn't exactly been an angel.

Although …

Where had that thought come from?

She didn't really know anything about Mrs Potter - she was Head Girl, so probably a prefect. Green eyes like Bethany, but red hair.

Muggle-born Gryffindor.

Bethany had mentioned that Ollivander said her wand was good for Charms work.

Sirius clearly considered her to be very smart.

But where on earth had Hermione got the idea that she was a trouble-maker?

"Hermione?" Mr Weasley asked. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" Hermione shook herself from her thoughts. "Sorry, I was just mentally running through everything I'd packed to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything."

"Organised," Bill commented. "Ron must drive you crazy."

He did, but Hermione wasn't going to tell his brother that while he was still an unknown entity.

"I like a challenge," she said carefully.

"Gryffindor," the two said in unison.

"And this must be Crookshanks," Charlie added, bending to see into the carrier. "Did he really eat Scabbers?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, masking the anger she felt towards Wormtail with old irritation with Ron. "Is he still on about that?"

Bill sniggered. "Been moaning about it for the last few weeks."

Hermione couldn't help feeling surprised. Ron wasn't usually known for his tact, and she knew that he had taken the news about Scabbers very personally.

That he had explained away his absence to his brothers without letting that shine through was quite impressive.

"Well, I don't know what happened to Scabbers, but Crooks hadn't left my dorm all day when Scabbers disappeared. He was sick, weren't you, Crookshanks?"

Despite his irritation at being confined, Crookshanks let out a purr, nuzzling his mistress through the bars.

"Smart cat," Charlie remarked, as Bill levitated the trunk down the stairs. "Might be half-Kneazle."

"I think he is," Hermione agreed, picking up the basket. It would explain how he had been able to recognise both Sirius and Peter for what they truly were.

"You'll have to carry it the rest of the way, boys," Mr Weasley said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Muggle neighbourhood, Dad; we know." He took one end of the trunk, Bill took the other, and they carried it out to the waiting car.

Hermione followed Mr Weasley out of the front door, pausing only to lock it and surreptitiously slip the key through the letter box, leaving her childhood home for what would - hopefully - be the last time.


July 1994

Hermione had never been to the Burrow before - she had always met the Weasley in Diagon Alley instead - but Bethany absolutely loved the place, and it turned out to be exactly how she'd imagined it - a house that looked like it had stepped right out of one of her childhood story books, with chickens pecking around the yard, and so many pieces jutting out that it appeared to be held up with magic.

Hermione couldn't help but feel, however, that this particular brand of magic was more that of love and family, rather than Charms and Transfiguration.

Ginny met her at the door with a hug. "Hermione, it's so good to see you. Here, let's get him out."

She undid the latches of the carrier and gently lifted Crookshanks out. Once free, the grumpy-looking cat settled down in Ginny's arms, purring contentedly.

"Hey Mione!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't protest the nickname, as Ron came running into the kitchen, his hair smoking slightly.

"Twins," he explained briefly, gesturing to the singed area.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Hermione sighed, hugging him in greeting. She had barely let go, when two other sets of arms encircled her, almost lifting her off the ground.

"Hermione!"

Hermione didn't quite squeal, but she couldn't hold back a giggle. "Put me down!"

Fred and George set her down and gave her almost identical grins.

"George, Fred," she said, making sure to make eye contact with each twin as she said their name, "what have we discussed?"

"Always give you fair warning if your feet are going to leave the ground," they chorused.

"Wrong way round," Ginny said with a grin. "Fred's in blue today."

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. Fred's in green."

Seeing her brother's sheepish expressions, Ginny groaned. "Would you … How do you do that?!"

Hermione shrugged. "I just know."

"I wish you'd tell us," Fred grumbled.

Hermione was never going to tell them. How could she, when she didn't understand it herself?

Fred and George were identical. She had spent most of her second year (at least the time not spent brewing Polyjuice and fretting about the Chamber of Secrets) trying to find some kind of physical difference between the two.

There was nothing - unless there was some kind of birthmark in a place not usually shown in public. They even had exactly the same number of freckles on their nose (which had been fun to try and count).

So how on earth was she supposed to explain that George was like an older brother to her, while Fred just … wasn't.

How could she ever tell Ginny that Fred's smile made her heart do a somersault, and every tiny moment with him was etched into her mind?

Mrs Weasley bustled over at that moment to pull Hermione into a hug before holding her at arm's length.

"Hermione, how wonderful to see you again!" Mrs Weasley paused. "You're very thin, dear."

"Everyone's thin according to you, Mum," George said.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Are you commenting?"

"No, no, no, no, no," George said hastily. "Absolutely not, no comments here."

Hermione bit back a laugh at their antics. She knew exactly what George had meant, and she also knew that they both knew that she wouldn't take it any other way. She also knew that there was no point in arguing with the Weasley matriarch, despite the fact that she knew she was a healthy weight for her age. "Well, we sent a lot of food to Bethany."

There may well have been a better way of redirecting Molly Weasley's attention, but it had yet to be found. Sure enough, Mrs Weasley's demeanour changed immediately. "Oh, the poor girl! I don't know why Professor Dumbledore insists on sending her to those people!"

Hermione was slightly startled at the venom in her voice. She had always assumed that Mrs Weasley believed that everything Dumbledore said was the word of Merlin. After all, last year, she had been very much in agreement that Bethany shouldn't be told that Sirius Black was supposedly trying to kill her.

Of course, to be fair, that was more because Mrs Weasley felt that Bethany 'didn't need to know' than because Dumbledore told them not to tell her.

Or had that been the Ministry's decision?

At one time, Hermione too would have taken Dumbledore or the Ministry's word as law, but after the chaos of last year, she wasn't so sure.

Dumbledore knew everything that happened at Hogwarts, or so it seemed, and yet he still didn't see fit to warn Bethany about the 'mass murderer' trying to kill her.

She had seen how reckless Bethany had acted last year - and she had known. She shuddered to think how bad her best friend would have been if she hadn't.

Then again, if Dumbledore truly did know everything that happened at Hogwarts …

Well, that put a whole new spin on the last three years, didn't it?"

Realising that Mrs Weasley was still talking, she tuned back in hastily.

"… and Ginny and I were going to make some birthday cakes for her; would you like to help?"

Just in time, as it turned out.

"Of course," Hermione said with a smile. "I wouldn't miss it." She glanced around, noticing that there was one face missing. "Where's Percy?"

"In his room," Ron told her. "Speaking of, we'll show you yours."

"You'll have to share with me, I'm afraid," Ginny added, as they led her up the rickety staircase that zig-zagged through the house. "We haven't got much room at the moment. Bill and Charlie are sharing with the twins, and Mum agreed that Bethany can share with Ron when she gets here. She's not thrilled about it."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Don't know why."

"Probably because she's a girl," Hermione said.

"Yeah, but it's Bethany," Ron said. "It's not like she's a real girl."

"Might I suggest never saying that in Beth's hearing?" Hermione asked.

"Why?" Ron asked, sounding bewildered.

Hermione shrugged. "Your funeral."

Ginny was stifling her giggles, her shoulders shaking with the effort. "Percy gets to keep his room," she added, somehow keeping her voice even, "because he's got to work."

"What's he doing?" Hermione asked, as they approached the second landing. "I don't think you've mentioned it."

"He only got the job a few days ago," Ron explained. "He's a junior in the Department of International Magical Co-Operation."

"He's obsessed," Ginny warned. "So keep your voice down."

As if on cue, a door just ahead of them opened and a head popped out. "Would you keep your voices … Oh hello, Hermione."

Percy was always polite to Hermione, probably because she was the only one who pretended to be interested during his lectures.

"Hello Percy," Hermione greeted. "Congratulations on your new job."

"Thank you," Percy said, puffing up importantly. "At least someone has their priorities straight." He shot a nasty look at his younger siblings, and disappeared behind his door again.

"Mental, that one," Ron muttered under his breath, leading the way up the next flight of stairs to Ginny's room. "Ladies, your humble abode. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to play Quidditch with the others."

Hermione moved aside to let him pass, rolling her eyes in the process, and followed Ginny into her room. "Do they ever ask you to play?"

"Never," Ginny sighed, gesturing to one of the beds. "That one's yours."

The room was quite small, just big enough to allow the two girls movement around the two beds, but it was comfortably so, and still bigger than Hermione had expected, given the size of The Burrow, and the placing of the door.

The walls were painted a pretty pale yellow colour, and the soft green bedclothes gave the room the image of spring-time, which was amplified by the jar of wildflowers on the window sill.

The beds themselves were identical, but one (the one Ginny hadn't pointed at) had a trunk at the foot, and a worn hand-knitted stuffed rabbit on the pillow.

"What do you think?" Ginny asked, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

"I think it's really pretty," Hermione answered, almost wistfully.

Her bedroom at her parents' house had always been plain white with smart mahogany furniture - hardly interesting for a young girl.

It took Hermione a few minutes to realise that she had referred to it as 'her parents' house' and not 'home'.

Ginny smiled brightly. "We'll get your trunk brought up and it'll fit at the foot of your bed."

"I'm ahead of you, Gin." Charlie floated the trunk in, and landed it in the middle of the room. "Do you two want to play with us?"

Whether he had heard Hermione's earlier question, or if he was just more polite than Ron, it was impossible to say.

"Normally I'd say yes," Ginny answered. "But Hermione's scared of heights."

"I am not scared of heights," Hermione protested. "I'm just not particularly fond of them."

The last time she had been in the air was on the back of a hippogriff; she was not eager to get up there again.

"You can go," she added. "I don't mind. I can watch from the ground or something."

"I know," Ginny said. "But I need a girl talk."

Charlie blanched slightly. "Right. I'll leave you to it then."

As soon as he had fled out of earshot, Hermione allowed herself to laugh. "Nicely done."

Ginny shook her head, grinning at her. "Only way I can get any privacy with six brothers. I did mean it though - when did you start tying your hair back?"

"When I found out it was considered the correct thing for a witch to do," Hermione answered.

"You didn't know?" Ginny asked. "Didn't you get taught stuff before Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. And I saw your book-list when you started; I wasn't advised to get any other books. Neither was Bethany."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Wait, does that mean Beth didn't know what it meant when she didn't shake Malfoy's hand on the train?"

"How do you even know about that?" Hermione asked.

"Ron told me," Ginny answered. "He was kind of chuffed that Bethany Potter would start a blood feud with the Malfoys because he was insulted."

"Yeah, she didn't intend to start a blood feud," Hermione said. "Although Professor Cotswold picked up on the atmosphere last year, asked Beth about the first meeting and then told her how to fix it."

"Oh good," Ginny said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I don't like Malfoy, but …"

"Bethany's got enough on her plate without an extra blood feud," Hermione agreed. "Yeah, she apologised for the misunderstanding. Malfoy's still a dick, but he's not as bad as he has been."

Ginny made a small noise of understanding. "Is that why it was Nott with Crabbe, Goyle and Flint at the Quidditch match, when they dressed up as Dementors?"

Hermione shrugged. "I assume so."

"How did you find out about the hair?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hesitated, but she and Bethany spent a lot of time with Ginny, and it felt wrong to hide things from her. That, and Bethany had talked about telling her. "If I tell you, you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone."

Ginny raised an eyebrow but gamely went to close the bedroom door. "Did you sneak into Knockturn Alley or something? Because the books would probably be in Flourish and Blotts."

They weren't.

Hermione had looked when she was in the Alley, but there were no books about wixen or pureblood traditions and customs.

Probably because the target audience already knew it all.

Ginny tugged her to the tiny dressing table in the corner and sat Hermione in front of the mirror. "Let me see if we can do something else here, and you tell me everything."

So Hermione allowed Ginny to spray her hair with water and carefully partition it into sections so it could be braided, and she quietly told her the story of the Marauders and what had happened at the end of the last school year, before going on to explain that Sirius had inadvertently landed in her garden and given her a fast-track education on pureblood and goblin etiquette.

By the time she'd finished, Ginny was almost in tears, although her hands in Hermione's hair were still perfectly steady. "Poor Professor Lupin."

Hermione had to admit that she hadn't thought about it from that angle; her thoughts had lain firmly with Sirius - and with Mr and Mrs Potter when the shock had worn off - and she was ashamed to admit she'd never even thought about how the whole debacle had affected the other remaining Marauder.

"At least he had Professor Cotswold and Professor Figg," Hermione said softly.

Ginny shuddered. "I can't believe we've had a grown man living in the house hiding as a rat. I feel sick." She slipped one last hairpin in and stepped back. "Done!"

Her hair was still a little frizzy around the braids, but it looked much neater than the ponytail. "It looks lovely, Ginny; thank you."

"Anytime," Ginny said. "Did you bring that book you said I could borrow? The Lion and something?"

"Oh, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," Hermione said. "Yeah, hang on." She opened her trunk and dug around through her books. "Not in here." She opened the satchel and dug around in it, ending up shoulder deep. "Ah, here it is."

Ginny stared at her. "What on earth is in that bag?"

"Everything but the kitchen sink," Hermione said jokingly, finally pulling the book out and handing it to Ginny.

"Thanks," Ginny said, but her eyes were still fixed on Hermione. "Seriously, what is with the Expansion Satchel? Are you planning on moving in?"

Hermione shrugged, hoping she looked nonchalant. "Not really."

Ginny just looked at her, her expression unchanging.

Hermione sighed. "I can't go home next summer."

"Why not?" Ginny asked gently.

Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes and began to talk, slowly admitting everything about her home life and her father.

At one point, she wasn't sure when, she began crying, and Ginny hugged her tightly, but didn't interrupt.

"You're staying here," she said firmly, when Hermione had finished. "You need to tell my parents."

"I can't," Hermione protested. "I don't want to … I don't want them to feel like they have to have me next summer, you know? They've got enough kids on their plates."

Not to mention, Hermione wasn't in a position to provide any kind of financial compensation the way Bethany was (not that either Weasley parent would ever ask or even agree to it, but it was the principal of the thing).

"Hermione …"

"If I need to," Hermione said firmly. "I will."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but nodded. "Come on. Let's go and help Mum make cakes."

Hermione smiled as well, relieved that Ginny wasn't going to push the subject. "Good idea. Baking always makes me feel better. I'm not very good at it though."

"Oh, Mum will take care of that," Ginny said cheerfully.

As the two girls made their way downstairs, Hermione pushed the unease to the back of her mind, but it wouldn't disappear, as it very rarely does.

What she didn't know was that, in a few weeks time, Bethany, and - by default - Sirius, would be getting that very same feeling.