Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Season 11, Round 2

Team: Holyhead Harpies

Position: Keeper

Word Count: 1,249

Prompt: Grey: Write about something untraceable

Summary: Hermione finds Sirius drinking alone on the roof of Grimmauld Place on the eve of his birthday. Sirius lives!AU

Notes: Emotions are tricky, unseeable things, right?

Warnings: Age-difference interactions. Childhood trauma.

I don't belong here

"Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you…unless you believe them. Then, they can destroy you." - Charles F. Glassman

Hermione heard the footsteps above her as she was drifting off. She opened her eyes, glancing around at the dark grey shadows of her bedroom in Grimmauld Place. She lay there for a moment, listening to the distant voices of Harry, Ginny, and Ron somewhere downstairs.

That left one other person that could be on the roof.

With a heavy sigh, she got out of bed, slipping on her dressing gown and slippers, before she made her way upstairs.

When she entered the attic, the cold November air was already filling the space. She pulled her dressing gown a little tighter around her body and kept her arms frimly folded as she climbed the stairs leading to the roof.

She found Sirius sitting at the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the grey slates and his upper body resting on the slim metal guard that did little to prevent anyone taking one too many steps. A bottle of Firewhiskey sat by his side. Even with only the moon for light this high up, she could see it was half empty.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, as though he sensed being watched. "I thought you were already asleep."

She shrugged, walking to join him at the edge. The floor was cold, sending an errant shiver up her spine as she took the offered bottle. She wasn't a big drinker, but she couldn't sit there with him while it was this cold and not have something to warm her up. Sirius laughed softly as he watched her flinch at the heat burning her throat, shoving the bottle back in his direction.

Once the warmth of the drink had relaxed her shivering muscles, Hermione rested her arms on the guard, glancing down at the street. The one working street light made the street appear less black and more like a muted scene of grey objects past the reach of the light.

"Is it because you're turning forty-five tomorrow?" she asked.

"Why would it be that?"

She heard the humour in his voice. "You had a meltdown when you turned forty. I thought as you're at the mid-point of turning fifty, another one was due." He pulled at a loose, fluffy curl by her shoulder, before taking a long swig of the Firewhiskey. "Not that then."

They both watched a cat prowl along the small community garden in the middle of the square Grimmauld Place was situated in, before it disappeared under a large bush.

"Your break-up with… what was her name again? Patricia?"

"Pippa," Sirius corrected. This time she got a poke in the ribs.

"Okay," she said, with a small giggle at him getting a ticklish spot. She shook her head when he offered her the bottle.

"And you knew her name," Sirius said quietly, not looking at her as he put the bottle down.

"I didn't get to meet her to know her properly, so forgive me if I got her name wrong."

They returned to a few moments of silence as they watched the cat dart out from the bush, chasing a mouse. Sirius flicked his hand, bringing the mouse up to them and leaving the cat turning in circles looking for his prey. The little ball of grey fur emitted little squeaks in the cup of Sirius' palm, his breathing erratic. Hermione leaned into his side to stroke the soft fur of the mouse's head, moving slowly to not frighten him more.

"Shall we continue with this game, or will you let me in tonight?" she asked quietly, shifting her head to look into the dark grey of his eyes. The shade of his irises was always a tell on where his thoughts were. Almost like those silly moonstones people believed in.

Sirius shifted, avoiding her gaze, as he put the now calm mouse onto the roof. "Feel free to help yourself to the food in my room, little one."

They watched the creature skitter to the stairs leading back into the attic, almost like he understood Sirius' offer.

When he kept his head turned away too long, Hermione reached around, a firm enough grip on his jaw to make him look at her. She stared at the colour of his eyes, reading them almost like she would tealeaves. In the small light she had, she could see the stormy grey colour now. They even seemed to swirl like an oncoming storm.

"Stop it," he said sharply, shoving her hand away with more force than he'd used before, causing it to bounce painfully off the metal bar.

Hermione instinctively cradled her hand in the other, her thumb rubbing at the bloom of pain on the back of her knuckles. Sirius sighed heavily, with as much anger as he could put into it. She could practically feel the self-loathing radiating off him.

It wasn't the age that was bothering him on this particular birthday. It was the memories of his mother's cold words.

You're worthless.

I wish you hadn't been born.

Disappointment.

Who would willingly want you?!

She could almost hear the vicious words of Walburga, as though it was her own memory, instead of words of love and celebration that Sirius should have been given.

"Sirius," she whispered his name.

"I'm sorry," he responded quickly, still not looking at her.

"You don't need to apologise, that isn't what I want from you."

"That's all you're going to get."

His loud words echoed into the night sky.

Like reaching out to the scared mouse, Hermione took Sirius' nearest hand and held tightly. "You think I don't know you, that any of us don't understand, but we do."

Sirius clasped his free hand over hers, trapping it between his. He didn't say anything nor did he return her gaze.

"I will do this every year with you. Just like Harry will. And Ron. And Kingsley. And everyone else around you."

His grip on her hand tightened and she swallowed the pain that came with it.

Hermione leaned into him, her mouth close to his ear, his hair brushing against the tip of her nose. "You are more than the words they've burned into you. You are loved and needed and everything to us."

"Even you?" he asked in a strangled whisper.

Hermione sighed lightly, the storm was retreating. "Especially me." She turned her head, resting it on his shoulder. "I would take away the cracks they've put in you, Sirius, if I could. Instead, you'll have to settle for my love." He rested his head on hers.

"You know why I can't cross this line?"

Hermione ignored the pinch at her heart at his question. She swallowed before answering. "I will never ask anything of you except to accept our love… my love." She lifted her head quickly when she could feel his arguments coming. "You will always deserve to be loved, Sirius. Whether it's me or someone else. You are more than the lies they gave you."

He finally looked at her, tears making his beautiful grey eyes shine, the shade a little lighter now. He nodded, not that he was accepting her words. Not tonight at least.

She gave him a chaste kiss and stood up quickly. "Don't stay here too long. Harry will kill you if you're ill for the party he's planning."

Sirius grabbed at her hand, looking up at her with a crooked smile. "I will never deserve you."

"That's not for you to decide." She squeezed his hand as a distant church clock chimed midnight. "Happy birthday, Sirius."