Hermione stepped off the night bus and looked at the townhouses in front of her. Number 11 and number 13 nestled comfortably together, as if unaware of the grievous skip in sequence. She looked down at the paper with the address she was clutching in one hand curiously.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Twisting her mouth to one side in contemplation, she gripped her trunk and looked determindly at the space between 11 and 13 and strode forward. The street lamps flickered as she approached, making the sudden appearance of Number 12, squeezing itself into existence stop her in her tracks. After a moment where she shook her head with a small smile, enjoying the fact that even after going on 5 years in the magical world, she still found things that surprised her.

Standing on the front stoop she took a deep breath and knocked. After a moment the door swung open to reveal a tired looking Molly Weasley. The older witch smiled warmly at Hermione pulling her into the house and in for a hug before she could open her mouth in greeting. After letting go she shushed Hermione with a finger to her lips and walked her in.

"It's good to see you, dear, but it's best to be quiet right now. Let's get you up to bed," she whispered, reaching around to take Hermione by the shoulder, ushering her in.

Nodding Hermione stepped into the house, noting the dim foyer. Not only from the lack of lighting but the colors were dark and dismal, there were house elf heads hanging in one corner that made her grimace in distaste. Regardless of her woeful attempts at getting S.P.E.W off the ground she couldn't help the twinge of righteous anger at the sight. The dusty ornate rug muffled their footsteps as Hermione heaved her trunk into the house trying to be as quiet as she could, but stumbled when her shoe caught the edge of the rug. Her trunk landed with a loud thud and the house suddenly wasn't so quiet anymore.

Heavy curtains swung open away from the screeching portrait of a woman who would have been quite beautiful if she didn't have the nastiest expression of contempt and rage on her face.

"SWINE, BLOOD TRAITORS! HALF BREEDS! TRAITOR TO THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS FILTH IN TO MY HOUSE?! I SHOULD HAVE DROWNED YOU LIKE THE RUNT YOU ARE AND SAVE THIS FAMILY THE EMBARRASSMENT OF YOUR EXISTENCE!"

A loud bang came from a door down the hall and thundering footsteps approached. A man she hadn't seen in months approached with a dangerous, lupine grace that spoke of power. His face was seething, jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he roared back at the portrait.

"Shut up you incestuous old hag!" With a wave of his hand the curtains fell shut and the screaming woman fell silent. Sirius stood there glaring at the curtains as if daring them to spring open again. In the stunned silence Remus Lupin emerged along with Arthur Weasley. Finally after a moment Sirius turned from the curtain to face her. His expression gave way to a genuine smile.

"How are you Hermione? Don't let mother bother you." If she could have been more shocked, she would be. Before, with her attention fixed on the situation at hand she failed to notice how much healthier Sirius looked. He had put weight on. His forearms exposed by the rolled up sleeves of a silk, royal blue, button down shirt, had a muscular quality that had been missing before. His chest, which was also exposed by the 4 or 5 unfastened buttons, was filled out and hard. Last she had seen him, she could have counted his ribs. What really shocked her was his face. The weight he gained in his face allowed his perfect bone structure to finally be shown off. His jaw could have cut glass and had an attractive stubble that was neither untidy nor overly groomed. His eyes, although still deep set, were no longer sunken in but sharp, bright, hooded by thick black lashes that made the light grey color of his irises appear silver in the flickering candle light. All in all, Sirius, the man who she had last seen looking like a walking corpse, now looked like a vision of pure masculine beauty.

She saw all this in a moment, and was grateful for the dimness that concealed any color that appeared on her face. "That was your mother?!" The look of distaste must have shown on her face because Sirius barked a laugh.

"Yes, and this is my Ancestral home. Welcome to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Miss. Granger," He bowed with an over exaggerated flourish. She didn't get to say anything back because Mr. Weasley and Lupin squeezed by Sirius, and took turns hugging her and giving her their greetings.

"Glad you could come stay with us Hermione, the kids will be glad to have you around for the rest of the summer," said Mr. Weasley, as he gave her a fatherly squeeze. Pulling back with his hands still on her arms to take in any changes from the last time they had seen each other.

She noted from the corner of her eye, Sirius loitering in the foyer, watching the exchange with an odd expression. His lips pulled down ever so slightly, his eyes looked somewhat wistful, and his shoulders were slightly hunched, with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Before she could make her way over to give Sirius a hug, Mrs Weasley ushered her over to the stairs and shooed the men back towards the door they came in from. With one last look at the trio in the foyer, Hermione made her way up to bed.

Hermione contemplated from her bed, the rhythm that had been quickly established in Grimmauld place. Everyone was set to work in cleaning out the rooms of the dusty estate. It was obviously busy work to keep them out of the nose of the Order members, given that there were a number of fully grown and legal wizards and witches that would be found in the house at all hours of the day, that they could have easily used magic to do most of the cleaning. There were a number of magical objects littered throughout the house that were cursed or otherwise unsafe to handle, that made Hermione question if it was the smartest plan to have a group of underage wizards unable to use magic outside of school doing this particular duty.

When not cleaning, they usually would be found in the kitchen. Meal times were uncommonly busy for Hermione. Having grown up as a single child, she wasn't used to the hubbub outside of school. She took this time to observe people, mainly Sirius, as it was the only time she saw him. Ever since that first evening when she arrived, she couldn't help her curiosity. He could be joking and laughing but he always had an air of suppressed depression. Most of the time he was quiet, watching the interactions of the others.

It wasn't a wonder why he was depressed, she had quickly realized how desolate being trapped here would be for him. Given how his mother's portrait behaved she assumed that his memories of this place weren't happy ones. After 12 years in Azkaban, a place where every happy feeling was sucked out of the prisoners by the dementors, he was now trapped in a place filled with nothing but unhappy memories. It was cruel.

To cap it off, she noticed that everyone in the household actively avoided any physical contact with the man. It didn't seem deliberate. Most people, she assumed, just didn't know him well enough to feel comfortable initiating contact. She watched as people would turn sideways to avoid brushing against him, or asking him to move out of the way, when they would normally just nudge someone else away from where they needed to go in a friendly gesture. Even Lupin, who was supposedly best friends with Sirius, seemed to avoid touching him. She noticed how he would watch when someone clapped their hand on someone else's shoulder, or bump hips. It was like he was a man being denied water.

They were in his house, yet he was treated as the outsider. It left a bad taste in her mouth as she remembered Mrs. Weasley reprimanding Sirius for his drinking for the 3rd time that week. She rolled over onto her side to face her bedside table to look at her clock.

1:17.

She sighed as she heard the soft footsteps make their way down the stairs again, as she had from the first night in the old house. At first she had just been awake, not having had time to get herself settled in enough to sleep at an appropriate time. She heard the footsteps and didn't question it, figuring someone just had to use the bathroom. The second night she had been up reading and had heard the steps, noting that it came from the same part of the house and the cadence of the steps were the same. Every night since she stayed up to hear those footsteps, and concluded that it was Sirius after her daytime observations. She never heard him return, she always fell asleep before that.

Tonight however, she had resolved earlier, she was going to keep him company. Slipping out of bed and chucking on an oversized Gryffindor sweatshirt in place of a robe and careful not to wake Ginny, who was occupying the otherside of the room, she made her way out the door. Tiptoeing down the stairs she looked at the cracks under the doors, looking for a light. Spotting light coming from under a door that she hadn't yet had the opportunity to explore, she carefully opened it. To her immense delight, it was an enormous home library, complete with comfortable leather couches and a lit fireplace that washed warmth onto her bare, goosebump covered legs. Sitting on one of the couches, sat Sirius, with a crystal tumbler filled with amber firewhiskey dressed in soft lounge pants and a worn through t-shirt. He was leaning forward, both elbows resting on his knees, his hands dangled in between, and his head hung down, hair obscuring his face. The sight sobered her thoughts.

For some reason the posture made her heart ache. It seemed so defeated.

"Sirius?" she called softly in an attempt to not startle him. She stood in the doorway her previous conviction seemed to falter. Maybe he wanted to be left alone and she was intruding.

Despite her efforts she saw him jolt slightly, his head popping up to look at her. "Hermione? What are you doing up?" His voice was slightly croaky and before she could stop herself she had shuffled her way up to him and gingerly sat down next to him. His eyes were red rimmed and unusually shiny.

"I couldn't sleep," she said in a half truth, fighting the urge to reach up to sooth the swelling around his eyes. "What are you doing up, Sirius?"

"Can't sleep either." He looked at her as though unsure as to what to do. He seemed almost to fear her company as much as he longed for it. The glass in his hands swirled in nervous circles.

"Is everything ok? You look upset," she asked, finally giving in to the compulsion to touch him and put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing her hand back and forth. The touch seemed to break something in him as tears began to spill down his cheeks. Taking the glass from him and putting it down on the side table, she sat up on her knees on the couch cushions and gathered him into her arms.

At first he was stiff, shoulders ridged and breathing halted. Then after a moment of her gently stroking his back and whispering comforting words into his ear, he completely melted into the embrace. His arms came around her waist and heaved her towards him. He reclined back into the couch with her laying flush on top of his chest, his face buried into the fluffy curls around her neck. He trembled as he tried and failed to control his sobs. He was gasping and moaning, damp tears and breath soaked her hair and pressed like a weight into the crook of her neck, but she said nothing, just gently hummed and scraped her nails at the base of his skull and through his hair in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

It took a long time, but the sobs died down until all that was left was deep regular breathing. Her body rising and falling with his breaths. She shifted slightly in his arms, adjusting her legs into a more comfortable position to alleviate her low back. He just gripped her tighter, clearly not ready to let her go. She let him hold her, going lax against him once more, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

"You know, when I first started Hogwarts, I was so excited about everything I was going to learn that I didn't think about being away from my family. That I didn't have any friends there," she said softly into his shoulder. Using the hand by her face to trace patterns into his deltoid with feather light touches. He hummed, to let her know she was listening. "At first everything was perfect. Then about a month later I started getting horribly homesick. I couldn't sleep. When I wasn't studying, I was horribly depressed and anytime I found myself alone I'd just cry for Mom and Dad." She took a deep breath remembering those days. "I wasn't well liked, didn't have any friends because they all thought I was insufferable, self-important, stickler for the rules, a know-it-all. I was so lonely, which just compounded the issue. I was testy from no sleep, more of a know-it-all because I was studying when I didn't have to, just to keep myself from completely breaking down, and that just alienated me from my classmates even more."

Sirius growled low in his throat, letting it rumble into her, and shifted his hands to grip her more firmly, one hand dragging up her spine to cross on to her shoulder blade.

"I didn't make any friends until Halloween when Harry and Ron saved me from a troll. Although, to be fair, I was crying because of them." She chuckled a little at the memory. It was the moment she found her very best friends. "While I had something new to direct my energy towards, they were just 11 year old boys and I was a girl who had cooties. I still was homesick, I still couldn't sleep, I still cried in my dorm room for my family. I remember sending owls to my parents every day that year. I remember going home for Christmas, and meeting Mom at Kings Cross. She pulled me into this long, tight hug, and I felt the months of stress and worry just unravel in me. The pressure lifting off of me was so great that I fell asleep in the car on the way home." She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. His red rimmed, silver eyes that looked up at her like he was hanging on every word. "Did you know that babies that aren't touched, skin to skin, will die? Human touch, particularly affectionate touch, is integral to our health. Physical and mental."

"I didn't know that," he spoke in a thick voice, that somehow still felt lighter than the few words he spoke to her before.

"I was touch starved for months. It affected me emotionally, it affected my sleep, it made me nauseated with stress." She pressed back a lock of hair away from his face. "I can't imagine what 14 years would do to me." She didn't say more. Just looked at him with all the understanding and compassion she could manage to convey with her eyes. A moment later, he buried his face into her hair again.

They stayed like that until his arms relaxed and his breathing lengthened in sleep. Hoping that no one would happen upon them in the morning to get the wrong idea, but not willing to abandon him to avoid it, Hermione let herself snuggle against him and drift off.

As it happened no one noticed. When the household roused and started down the stairs they woke up and separated. No one was surprised to find Hermione in the library and as she had a habit of staying in her pajamas during breakfast, not one thought that was odd either. They didn't notice that the shadows under Sirius' eyes were lighter or that his general air of melancholy was lessened. They didn't notice the sudden appearance of the soft touches between him and Hermione. Like when he put his hands dragged across her shoulders as he moved past her, or the grazing of their fingers when they passed the plate of sausages. Nor did they notice that they sat next to each other, which should have been noticed since the seating arrangements had been set since the beginning of her stay. The only person to observe these things was Lupin with slightly narrowed eyes.

When breakfast was over and the kids were sent up to get ready for another day of cleaning, Lupin watched as Sirius' eyes followed Hermione out the door. Once the room was empty he turned to his old friend and with an expectant expression he asked; "Anything I should know?"

Sirius' eyes flicked to Lupins and stared for a moment. He sighed, leaning on his elbows and scraped his hair back, head in his hands. He knew his friend saw the interactions with the young witch and denying it would imply more than just explaining. Although that was easier said than done. "Nothing, she just...I don't know...just…" He floundered, at a loss for the words to explain to his friend how she just eased a part of his soul in a way he didn't even know he needed.

"You do realize she's 15 right? She's not even legal yet," Lupin said flatly. Tapping his fingers against the table agitatedly.

"It's not like that, Moony!" Sirius growled. He wouldn't let his friend cheapen what was going on into something untoward and base. "She… I don't know how. But she realized that I haven't been sleeping and came down to the library last night and found me in one of my...my moods." He cleared his throat, feeling ashamed suddenly. "She held me and let me hold her, and it was like a thousand pounds just lifted off of me. She told me things about herself that were so familiar to what I've been feeling. The stress, the struggle to fit in, the sleepless nights… She told me that babies would die without human touch. That touch had a profound effect on us emotionally and physically… And she just let me hold her. I fell asleep with her in my arms and I just slept. No nightmares, no fits, I just slept." He said everything in a rush, feeling all the world a fool as he clumsily tried to explain what she did for him, almost despairing at the inadequacy of his own words. He looked at his friend, pleading for him to understand.

Now it was Lupin's turn to look ashamed. When, now that he thought about it, he realized that he had been neglecting his friend. He didn't even notice until now the strained, distant way the people in the house behaved around him, the way some of the only conversations Sirius had outside of Order meetings were Molly's chastisements. He was ashamed that a 15 year old girl, no matter how brilliant, saw this when it should have been him.

Lupin had never been a particularly tactile person, not that he would reject a hug when offered, but he didn't need much physical contact to keep him happy. Sirius on the other hand, when he thought back to their school days, was extremely tactile. An arm around someone's shoulder, high-fives, slinging his legs across a friend's lap in the common room while he read... Touch was as natural to Sirius as breathing. He couldn't think of a day where Sirius didn't hug his friends at school or even the brief few years after before the shit hit the fan. He even remembered Sirius hugging McGonagall a few times. When was the last time Sirius hugged someone or was offered a friendly touch? When they hugged in the Shrieking Shack two years ago? One of the infrequent visits from Harry in that filthy cave last year?

A frown pulled on his face as he thought about how self-involved he must have been to not have noticed something so fundamentally off with his friend. Attributing the drinking and moodiness to just general restlessness in his rash friend. He felt even more ashamed when he realized that he only noticed the change when he thought the worst of him.

He sighed harshly, clasping his hands on the table. "I'm sorry. I've been a bad friend not to notice."

"No you haven't. There's more to worry about then me, right now," said Sirius as he tentatively, like he wasn't sure it was okay, reached over to pat his friend's hands in forgiveness.

Lupin felt a lump in his throat at the hesitant touch, when it once would have come without question to its welcome. Standing up, he walked around the table, and motioned his friend out of his seat and gave him a brotherly hug. Just like the one in the Shrieking Shack. "No, I'm sorry. You're my best friend and you're suffering. I should have noticed."

Sirius latched on like a drowning man finding driftwood alone out in the ocean. And that just broke something in him.

From then on there was a subtle change in the house. Hermione and Lupin would often be found near Sirius during their time off. Laughing at jokes over a cup of tea, playing chess, reading with Hermione's legs slung across Sirius' lap, his thumb making small circles in on her shin while Lupin lay across another couch, his long legs hooked over the armrest; or sitting together during dinner, their bodies leaning in towards each other in conversation. Sirius could be seen opening up and messing with Fred and George, who seemed to have been waiting to pick the brain of the Marauder. Lupin now always made it a point to embrace Sirius when he came and went from Grimmauld Place, and Hermione would give him a friendly squeeze as a morning greeting.

The most subtle change in the house was the regular occurrence of Hermione and Sirius spending their time in the library when everyone else had gone to bed. It didn't happen every night, but the nights Hermione heard the soft footsteps making their way down the stairs, she would go out to meet him.

That evening they had just had news about Harry having to fight dementors near his Aunt and Uncles. Sirius was torn between worry and the excitement of having his godson coming to stay with him for the remainder of the summer. The pair sat on the couch, Hermione tucked into his side holding a book propped up on her bent knees, and he had an arm curled around her shoulders- drawing her closer.

"Harry is going to be furious," said Hermione, softly, breaking the peaceful quiet. "But, Dumbledore wouldn't let us tell him anything." She sounded upset about it, and Sirius knew she was the type to hate keeping secrets from her friends.

"Yeah, at first. But I think he'll get over it. And if he doesn't, we'll make him get over it," he said, trying to ease her worries. He was frowning down at her as she gnawed on her lower lip, staring into the fire. He ran his thumb up and down her arm comfortingly.

He knew Harry's friendship with Hermione meant the world to her and risking his ire was a major concern for her. Remus had clued him in on some of their dynamic and he had gathered that, in a lot of ways, Hermione was the odd one out in the trio. While Ron and Harry were best friends, Hermione was left to mother them, which had caused some strife over the years. Remus had also told him about the months of silent treatment they had given her over the Firebolt being confiscated to be checked for curses, which made his stomach turn.

While he knew that he wasn't to blame for the reactions of two thirteen year old boys, he felt guilty that his gift was the instigator. He also felt a certain amount of disappointment at his godson behavior. Here Harry had a wonderful friend that put his wellbeing and safety before everything else, even his continued affection towards her, yet he found losing a broomstick more important.

"Yeah, I suppose," she said, doubtfully but smiled up at him. "Seeing you should at least alleviate some of his frustration though, and he gets to spend the rest of the summer away from the Dursleys!"

He chuckled at that. "If that doesn't turn his mood around, nothing will." She laughed at that, and then seemed to let her mind drift off of the subject for now as she went back to her book. Sirius reading over his shoulder. It had taken him a little practice, since she read faster than he usually would pace himself, but he soon learned how to match her. It had become an unspoken habit for the two, and Hermione even seemed to reserve the books he read over her should for only the nights they sat together because the other times she was found with her nose in a book it was always a different title.

At first he had been surprised by her reading choice, but after some thought it made sense that she'd read muggle literature as well as magical. He enjoyed it as well since she had a penchant for science fiction and fantasy, and he had never had a chance to read anything like it. When he mentioned this she immediately put together a reading list for him. Her eagerness to share something she was so passionate about made him feel very warm inside.

He was surprised at how many books she had brought with her and laughed when she mumbled that she had spent her birthday money on a magically expanded trunk last year so she could take more books to school with her. "The muggle literature section is barely one row in the stacks! And it's almost all historical fiction and instruction manuals!" She complained, with an adorable furrowed brow and pouting lip.

The memory made him smile as he read The Illustrated Man over her shoulder. Hermione was right to be miffed, he realized as he absorbed the words in front of him. There was something that surpassed magic in the books that muggles created. The books she shared with him seem to let him escape reality while also putting him in a deep state of introspection. He could work out feelings and struggles without being overwhelmed by them, and when he wanted to, she would listen to whatever he felt like sharing; helping to further untangle his mind.

Later, after they both had started yawning, wished each other goodnight, and separated to their own rooms, Sirius realized he loved Hermione. He loved her as much as he loved Harry. He loved her as much as he loved Remus. She was now part of his small and broken family that he held tight to his equally broken heart.