Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I write for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Note: This is a bit of a delayed update from my usual, so apologies for that. I'll probably update on time next week, but we'll see. Either way, I hope you enjoy this update, and I'll be back again next week with the next one!

The Second Sixth Year of Sirius Black

By: Rae

-A "Harry Potter" Fic-

"So what was really in that letter, huh?" Sirius asked when they made their way to their room after dinner. Harry and Ron had Quidditch practice and had rushed off from the table after scarfing down their food. They'd spent the whole rest of the day pestering Hermione about what was in the letter she received, but she held fast to what she said earlier, making Ron grow redder and redder.

They got into the room, the door shutting behind them, and Sirius stood up from his chair quickly. He'd been anxiously testing how long he could stand for the past couple of days, so he began to walk in a very small circle. Hermione, on the other hand, sat in the chair by their small table, allowing him as much space as they could afford for him to roam. She sighed, rolling her shoulders and reaching up to massage her left one from the pain of lugging her backpack around all day.

Sirius paused in his walking, staring down at her expectantly. "I'm waiting, love," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"What?" She asked him a bit irritably. After an afternoon of Ron and Harry taking digs at her about the letter being anything but a love letter, her amused mood had faded into grumpy frustration.

Sirius grinned at her amiably and said, "Well, we both know that wasn't a love letter, so why don't you tell me what it was really about?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "I won't tell Harry or Ron if you don't want me to, but you know you can trust me."

Hermione looked up and glared at him, but before she had a chance to respond, a knock sounded at their door. A moment later, a muffled voice spoke and the door unlocked. It opened to reveal Remus standing just outside, a gentle smile on his face.

"Hello Pads, Hermione," he said as he looked from one to the other. "Is this a bad time?" His gaze rested on Hermione's frowning face.

Shaking her head to rid herself of her gloominess, Hermione smiled at him and said, "No, no, please come in, Remus."

He did so, and Hermione gave herself a mental shake, still somewhat struggling to keep Remus in her head as her professor and not just her friend and sometime-mentor. She rubbed her shoulder a bit more, ignoring the two men as they talked to one another for a few minutes.

"So what did I interrupt?" Remus finally asked, turning to look at her with a wink. "It looked like you were a bit perturbed, Hermione."

She resisted the urge to frown and was cut off when she opened her mouth.

"Hermione received a secretive letter today, and I'm trying to figure out who it's from and what it's about," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "She told us earlier it was from a secret admirer." He rolled his eyes, and Hermione gripped her shoulder tighter.

"Is that right?" Remus asked, looking at her. "So you have a secret admirer, Hermione?" His grin warmed, and he winked at her again.

"Oh come on, Moony," Sirius said. "Of course it's not a secret admirer!"

"Why not?" Remus asked him, a slight frown on his face.

"I watched her read that letter earlier, and she did not look like a girl receiving a letter from a secret admirer." He said this as if it was a simple thing, and maybe it was, but Hermione scowled.

"It was from a secret admirer," she said firmly. She looked up at the two men who stood before her and felt her cheeks redden with the lie.

Remus looked at her with curiosity in his gaze, but Sirius smirked at her, certain of his assessment.

She looked down at her lap for a minute and then rummaged in her bag, saying, "And I suppose the two of you can talk while I write him back." She pulled out a bit of parchment, a quill, and a new ink she'd bought recently. It was a frivolous purchase, really, but she'd always loved vivid colors. Most of her professors required her to write in black ink, but when she'd seen the brilliant royal purple ink, she couldn't stop herself from buying it, even knowing there was very little she'd be willing to use it on.

Now she turned away from the men, knowing Remus must have come to speak in their nearly unintelligible code about something having to do with the Order. She laid out her supplies on the table and settled more comfortably before it. The men were quiet for a moment, and she could practically feel their gazes on her as she picked up her quill and stuck the nib into the beautiful ink. Pausing a moment to think, she started by writing, "Dear…"

She stopped. Then she nodded and wrote "Secret Admirer." She grinned. It wasn't like her to indulge in silly things like this, but something about pretending to have a secret admirer appealed to her, and if Fred and George were willing to let her use that as an excuse, she was going to play it up. She'd really been hurt earlier when Ron and Harry continued to badger her about the letter and crack jokes that she wouldn't receive a love letter.

It's not like they'd seen the letters Viktor sent her, after all.

She felt the heat creeping up her neck as she recalled the Bulgarian Seeker and the letters he'd sent her during the summers. He'd kept it up for two summers before he admitted to her there was a local girl who had caught his eye. She hadn't minded. She was much too busy trying to draw Harry out of his shell at Grimmauld Place by the time his last letter came to allow herself to feel any pain over the loss.

Still...it had been a fun dalliance, something to pass the time and a way to feel good about herself. Viktor had truly liked her, not just because she didn't fawn over him like the other girls, but because he thought she was pretty and interesting. She'd once told Ron that all she did was listen to Viktor talk about Quidditch to get him to stop pestering her about having dated a famous Quidditch player.

She'd lied.

She and Viktor had really hit it off once they'd had some privacy. It helped that he was much more eloquent in his letters than in his normal speech–and that there wasn't any struggle to translate because his written English was much clearer than his spoken. He really was just a normal guy in his letters, a normal guy who happened to have an insanely busy schedule of practices and games that took him all over the Wizarding world, but he still had normal hobbies and dreams and hopes for the future.

Hermione sat and studied the parchment before her, lost in thoughts of her old flame and smiled softly. Sirius suddenly barked a laugh that startled her from her momentary daydream, and she focused on the paper again. She wanted to pull out the letter from the twins, but she didn't dare with Sirius nearby and clearly willing to catch her out in her lie.

Though she hadn't really planned on replying yet, she decided she would at least consider their proposition. Having an in to helping other Muggleborn witches and wizards was important to her, and knowing that Dumbledore wouldn't induct the twins into the Order of the Phoenix rankled a little. They were adults now, and there was no reason they shouldn't be allowed to join the Order, but he'd denied them when they requested it. Hermione seriously suspected that Molly had something to do with that, but she wouldn't say it for the world. She wasn't sure what the twins were cooking up for the defensive product line, but the idea certainly appealed to her. The Ministry of Magic had been practically incompetent at preparing their citizens for the coming war, and Hermione knew a lot of the people in Wizarding Britain would be in grave danger should the Death Eaters come calling.

Nodding to herself, she took up her quill again and began to write.

Dear Secret Admirer,

I was flattered to receive your letter earlier today. It wasn't easy, but I did as you asked in your note and read it alone...or as alone as I was able. You should know that I now have an official Secret Admirer in you as well as some very curious friends that want to know more about you, so you've done your job well.

As to your proposal, I find it curious. I'd like to hear more about what you are looking for from me before I commit to anything. I certainly wouldn't want to rush into anything. Would you be able to write me again and tell me more details? I'm especially interested in hearing about this...new venture you want to start. If "all's fair in love and war," then I want to be part of both.

You're probably smiling right now as you read this. I'll admit your letter caught me off-guard, and unfortunately, it's caught my friends off-guard as well. I thought I'd continue our wordplay here on the off chance anyone reads this. Truly, I haven't had a Secret Admirer before, so you might have to bear with me as our correspondence continues. Perhaps you could put some of your more ingenious handiwork to good use in future letters?

All in all, I look forward to hearing from you and learning more about this proposal of yours.

Yours truly,

Hermione

She picked up her quill and laid it down, rereading what she'd written. Hermione scrunched her nose up in distaste after a few lines. Was she really writing this? Would she actually send it out? She scowled at the parchment as she finished reading.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, scratching absently at the back of her head. Her scowl grew as she reconsidered her letter. It was one thing for the twins to joke about being her secret admirer. It was another entirely for her to continue the joke. She sighed, moving her hand to massage her sore shoulder again and then reread the letter for a second time. She wasn't even sure Fred would be able to decipher any of this. Maybe he'd think she was actually taking the secret admirer bit seriously.

The thought of the twins thinking she'd fallen for their line was enough to make her blanch. She leaned forward and snatched the parchment up, prepared to rip it up and toss it in the trash, when a sound made her turn in her seat.

She held the parchment in one hand and turned her scowling face to find both Sirius and Remus watching her, their faces intent. Hermione blinked, looking from one to the other in confusion.

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" Remus asked her with a gentle smile. "You seem a bit perturbed."

She set the parchment back on the table and sighed. "I'm just not sure if I should send this or not," she admitted and then immediately thought better of it.

"Writing to your secret admirer?" Sirius asked her.

"Yes," she said. She wondered if she should just tell him about the twins' joke, but the thought of admitting her deception wasn't pleasant. Her scowl deepened, and she was caught up in her thoughts.

"Are you not sure about responding to this person? Or perhaps worried they'll get the wrong idea?" Remus asked her, diverting her attention.

Hermione thought about her somewhat coded language and said, "Well, I'm afraid what I wrote might not be too clear." She wondered for a minute if Fred and George would read what she wrote and laugh about her response. The thought made her frown. "I'm worried he might laugh at me," she admitted softly. "He might not understand what I meant and just laugh at me."

"If he's a secret admirer, I don't think you'll have that problem," Sirius said, looking at her in concern. "Only a true rake would take a heartfelt response from someone and laugh at it. This guy likes you, right?" His eyes widened in recognition, and Hermione felt her heart leap until he asked, "Is this the first time you've had a secret admirer?"

Her cheeks flushed in both embarrassment and shame, and she couldn't find her voice, trying not to think about the deception she was continuing. She reached over to the parchment blindly, pulling it to her and putting her other hand on it to rip it in half. This was just too much.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sirius leaned forward from his place on the bed and stilled her hands. Gripping her hand, he told her, "Don't make any rash decisions now. Just take a minute and think about this. I'm sorry if we've upset you talking about this secret admirer business, but if you want any help, you can always ask me or Remus. We had our fair share of love letters in school, and we can probably give you a good idea if your letter or your affection will be accepted." He reached over with his free hand and gently tugged her chin until she met his eyes. "Why don't you just put this away and sleep on it? You can decide to send it or not tomorrow. Okay?"

She held his gaze for a minute, her face still flushed from embarrassment. But his hands on hers had calmed her racing heart and provided that unearthly comfort that she seemed to crave so much. They'd not been doing a very good job of staying in constant contact the way Nicole had told them to, and she felt his touch like a drug. Nodding, she agreed with him.

Sirius smiled at her and let her go, leaning back to stretch out on her bed. Hermione felt the loss like a blow and flinched. She turned away quickly, though, and tucked the parchment back into her backpack. She would give it the night and decide if she should send it or not. Closing her backpack, she turned back to the two men in the room.

"Hey Moony," Sirius said, waving a hand lazily, "why don't you tell Hermione about your old admirer? You know...Starla?" He snickered, and Remus shot him a glare.

"Starla?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "Was that a real person's name?"

Sirius laughed harder now.

"No, it was not," Remus said shortly, glaring at his friend in earnest now. "And why don't you tell Hermione about Ramona?"

The laughter abruptly stopped. "Now that's just not fair, Moony," Sirius said with a pout, sitting up to look balefully at the werewolf.

"You don't want to tell her about the way Ramona spelled your hair to-"

Sirius launched himself at the other man, slapping a hand over Remus's mouth before he could finish his sentence. "I think that's enough there, Moony ol' pal," he said. "Hermione needs to finish her homework, and we need to get some sleep. Don't you have classes to prepare for anyway?"

Remus pushed the other man's arm away and smirked at him, standing up and stretching his back with a pop. "Unlike you, Padfoot, I don't leave things to the last minute," he told him. "My lessons are all set for the week. But you're right. I should let Hermione finish her homework." Stepping over to her, he gripped her left shoulder and nodded when she winced. "You should probably have Sirius carry your bag for a while. You carry too many books." He gave her a friendly smile of acknowledgment and then headed to the door.

"I'll see you two tomorrow," Remus said as he exited the room. "Have a nice night and try not to get on each others' nerves too much." He smirked at them both, and Sirius groaned dramatically.

"Goodnight, Remus," Hermione said, and watched as the door shut behind him.

Turning back to her roommate, she stopped short when she realized she was staring right at his waist band. She looked up to see him looming over her with a look in his eye she couldn't place. "Turn around, Hermione," he instructed firmly. When she didn't immediately move, he grabbed her upper arms and guided her to sit back against the chair facing the table again.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Sirius began to gently massage them. "Why didn't you tell me you were so sore?" He asked her congenially. "I could have helped you with that. You should know I give great massages." His tone shifted to one of amusement on that last note.

"Is that so?" She asked him vaguely, her sore and tense muscles feeling soothed by his touch even as she felt that ever-present comfort wash over her. Hermione let her eyes drift closed as he worked, pressing harder against her left shoulder in places and drawing out moans of mingled pain and pleasure from her. Her body grew relaxed and languid under his ministrations, and she felt the connection between them like it was a living, breathing thing.

As he worked on her shoulders, Hermione allowed her mind to wander. She thought through the intense work she'd done last semester to bring the portrait reviving potion to life, the ways she'd pieced together the correct incantation, and all the preparation she'd done to bring Sirius back to life. She thought about how much they were going through to keep him safe and undercover in his role as her distant cousin so she could continue her schooling. She thought about the way she'd never felt so comfortable with someone as she did sitting here with his hands on her shoulders.

It crossed her mind that she should probably not feel so comfortable and that it was all a side effect of the bond they now shared. Without that, she vaguely mused, she'd probably still feel the same way about Sirius as she had back in fifth year when his antics had made her wish he'd grow up and stop being so childish around Harry. Something about the bond, however, influenced her to relax under his touch and indulge in the magical sense of connection and oneness that she only experienced when she was this close to him.

His hands settled on her shoulders and stilled, and she heard him exhale softly.

"Perhaps I should let you get your homework done," he said in a reluctant tone of voice.

"I don't have anything due tomorrow that I haven't done yet," she told him. True, she had planned to work on a few papers that were due next week, but she found she didn't want to relinquish his touch just yet.

He let go of her, and she ached for his touch again. She said nothing, though, just turned to look up at him. As she did, he stepped past her to a shelf where they'd both stacked some books. Plucking the one he'd borrowed from the library, he also snagged the one she'd been reading last and handed it to her.

"Come sit with me?" He asked with something in his voice she couldn't quite place.

She stood up with her book, and they both settled on her bed. It was rather cozy with the two of them there, and he arranged her pillow so they were both propped somewhat against it, their sides touching as they opened their books. She found herself leaning against him as she turned to the last page she'd read.

A silence settled over them, only broken by the turning of pages, and Hermione wondered how it could feel so much like coming home.