Chapter 28

Dreams

Hermione did not dream often anymore. Until tonight, she hadn't been sure she still could.

The last dream had been under the influence of a horcrux, when Tom Riddle attempted to drive her mad in her sleep. Something about it had done something to her, offset her brain chemistry in some way. Real dreams—the simple, forgettable film reel pieced together by her unconsciousness—were lost to her. Or so Hermione believed.

At present, Hermione was inspecting a small slip of parchment. She didn't remember where it came from, but something told her it needed folding. She folded it uncertainly.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked was sitting next to her wearing one of Mrs. Weasley's jumpers, the letter H knitted lovingly on the front.

"Trying to make a paper flower," Hermione replied, frowning. "Except I can't remember all the steps anymore."

"Just use magic," Ron suggested, shoving a spoonful of pudding in his mouth. He was sporting an R jumper in deep maroon.

"I don't want to," Hermione said stubbornly, picking up another piece of parchment. "This is how my mum taught me."

"Before you knew you could use magic," Ron muttered before focusing on his pudding again. Hermione glared strongly.

Harry stroked his chin. "I think I remember this at school. Here, let me try." Harry reached for the small stack of blue paper squares. "See, you just fold a few times like this… and then you have to cut out some pieces."

Hermione glanced around. They were in the common room, and Hermione was at the foot of the small table while Harry and Ron sat on the sofa. "I don't have scissors," Hermione said woefully.

"Are you a witch or not? Use your wand!" Ron said exasperatedly.

"I shouldn't have to use magic for everything!" Hermione snapped. "And why do you look like that?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, who paled under her discerning gaze.

"Like what?"

"Like your twelve again." She eyed his rounded face and short hair. "This doesn't make sense."

"No need to insult me," Ron sniffed and he changed in a blink. Hermione gaped. Ron was now as she knew him last: tall and lanky, with red hair coming into his eyes. He frowned deeply. "I know you don't fancy me anymore."

Guilt pooled in her gut. "Ron…" Hermione glanced at Harry awkwardly. He shrugged.

"He's right, Hermione. You fancy someone else now," said Harry. A glint shone in his eye that had her look away, cheeks burning.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You've only been snogging my godfather, Hermione."

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed, scandalized. She glanced around again and felt the stares of the other Gryffindors in the room on her. "It's not like that!"

"So you're not snogging his godfather?" Ron asked skeptically.

"I didn't say that," Hermione hedged. "I'm—I'm not dating your Sirius; I'm dating my Sirius. There is a difference."

"Should you really be dating at a time like this?" Lavender Brown piped up, sitting in Ron's lap. She shook her head sadly. "With all that's going on, you're bound to get distracted."

"What would you know about it?" Hermione said sourly. "You got me into a real mess with Sirius, you know."

"Piffle. Think of it as a trust exercise between you and Sirius," Lavender said absently, nibbling Ron's ear. "Now you're closer than ever."

"And I'm not getting distracted," Hermione insisted. "We fancy each other. I'm not ignoring my feelings anymore for the sake of the world. It isn't fair. I won't," Hermione declared, but she was unheard, and Ron no longer paid any attention to her. Hermione turned to Harry. "You understand, don't you?"she pleaded.

Harry smiled at her. He was next to her on the floor, wearing the fleece jumper she once gave him for his birthday. "It's not easy being the chosen one, is it?"

Hermione hesitated. "I don't think I'm a chosen one. I'm just—Hermione," she said unsurely.

"And I was just Harry."

Hermione took a step back. "I'm not a chosen one. I'm not. Right?"

"Aren't you, prophecy girl?" Harry raised a brow.

Hermione paused. "That… I suppose there is a prophecy about me, now."

Harry said nothing as Hermione frowned at the table. The squares of blue parchment were gone. She slowly glanced at Harry. "How do you know that?"

The common room faded, as did Harry's face, and Hermione felt a whisper of a touch trail along her cheek. Hermione winced and moved away from it, unwilling to pull away from the gentle embers of rest she was a feeling.

"You really gonna keep sleeping, love?"

Hermione's eyes flew open. Sirius was staring down at her, a shadow of a smirk on his mouth.

"Sirius," whispered Hermione, heart hammering in her chest. For a moment she was relieved; the dream had disturbed her a little, and it'd been a while since her last. Absently she stroked his arm as he loomed over her. Across the dormitory, someone snored.

Hermione glanced at Sirius, panicked. "You can't be in here. How did you get in here? The stairs—"

Sirius quirked a brow. "You really think a trick spell can keep me away?"

"I suppose not." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand to her forehead. "I just had the strangest dream…"

"I bet. I heard you say my name once."

"That was… er, nothing."

"Hm."

Hermione shook her head. What was Sirius doing risking sneaking into her bed at night? She gently stroked his shoulder, concerned. "Is something the matter? Did something happen?"

Sirius looked somber. "Yes. It's dreadful."

Her eyes widened. "What is it?"

He exhaled quietly. "Well, I woke up a minute ago and found myself thinking about you. Then I couldn't stop." He smiled proudly. "And now I'm here."

Hermione shoved at him and Sirius chuckled, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm serious," Hermione murmured, but the smile in her voice gave her away. This was new. And dangerous—Hermione rarely did both in tandem. "You should go before you're caught."

Sirius groaned unhappily and moved to shift off the bed. "You're no fun."

It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "Neither will be Lily if she catches you."

Sirius made a face, and Hermione had to fight to stop from laughing. "Right, I'm off. Need something before I go, though."

"What?"

Hermione barely had time to react before he swooped down and kissed her. An inaudible squeak caught in the back of her throat, heart fluttering in her chest. Her hands went to his face as he broke off, only to kiss her again.

"Sirius," Hermione breathed against his mouth, worried eyes glancing in the dim light, praying the other girls wouldn't wake but also enjoying the thorough distraction by his lips. Her eyes fluttered when he pressed his lips to her neck. "This is—we shouldn't—"

Sirius pulled back, raking his teeth thoughtfully over his lower lip. "Guess we'll just have to fix that." With a flick of his wrist, he produced his wand and cast a Silencing charm. With a second flick, the curtains around the four-poster snapped closed.

Hermione stared at Sirius for exactly three seconds before dragging his head back toward hers. Her heart fluttered as he deepened their kiss, shifting so he was half-covering her. Her thigh curled against his waist, pulling him closer. Merlin, this felt so good, this was so good, and Sirius ground against her hips and—

Hermione's eyes snapped open when a real moan slipped from her throat.

Cheeks blooming red, she glanced around.

The curtains around her bed were open. The girls were still asleep. There was no Sirius in sight.

Another dream.

Hermione pressed her palms to her face to cool down. "Merlin," Hermione breathed, shifting restlessly on her bed. The low burn in the pit of her belly would not go down. Her skin felt electrified.

Hermione glanced at the door.

No. It was impulsive. Hermione was not impulsive. Well, maybe sometimes. When aptly motivated and the rewards outweighed the consequences.

Still, impulse was impulse. One driven from body, not mind. Hermione did not do things without first consulting her mind.

So, she consulted.

What harm is in trying? her traitorous mind needled.

"Traitor," Hermione muttered to herself.

Dream-Harry approved too, it reminded.

Hermione bit her lip and thought of Sirius. Of how he'd react if she were to appear outside his four-poster. They'd never broached this part of their relationship, not really. It had all just been so lovely, the casual intimacy, the drugging kisses...

Well, when put that way…

Hermione slid out of bed.

The common room was quiet when she carefully poked her head out of the girls' dormitory. The fires had long since extinguished and the house-elves had already folded and fluffed and organized what needed. Closing the door carefully behind her, Hermione stared ahead in the direction of the boys' dormitory.

Biting her lip, she tiptoed ahead and snuck in.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. This was ridiculous. Hermione was not like this—but was she now? Was this the Hermione that came out when dating? It seemed a little unbelievable but here she was, toes freezing in her pajamas because she wanted a bit of necking with Sirius.

She found Sirius's room easily. Anxiously, Hermione flattened her hands against her hair. Taking a breath, Hermione reached for the doorknob—and nearly bowled over when it turned and the door opened.

"Arck!"

Smack went a body into hers. Limbs akimbo. Gasping, Hermione stared up at the figure, flat on her arse and wishing the floor would swallow her whole.

"Balls—so sorry, didn't see anyone there." The door closed quickly. A wand tip ignited, and Hermione flinched, blinking rapidly. A sharp gasp drew them open again—and she wished for the floor to swallow her again.

"Hermione?" James gaped. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet. "Er—never mind that. What are you doing here?"

James kept staring. She watched his eyes dart from the door to the boys' dormitory to Hermione. A slow smile crept over his face that had Hermione's cheeks burning. "I left my glass of water in the common room. Was going down to retrieve it."

Hermione briefly forgot her embarrassment. "You couldn't transfigure something into a glass?"

"You want me transfiguring something half-asleep in the dead of night?"

He had her there. "Fair does. Well, I guess I'll be going—good luck with the water glass."

"Oh-ho no, sis." James took her elbow before Hermione could escape. "I still don't know what you were doing here."

She eyed James' smirk warily. "Sleep walking."

"Try that again."

"Really. It's good you came when you did or I might have—"

"Snuck in the boys' dormitory and done away with my best friend's sweet innocence?" James finished, a challenge in his tone that matched his knowing look.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "As if I'd do that with you, Remus, and Peter in the room."

"I'm just calling a spade a spade," said James, leaning against the wall with a million-galleon smirk.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "You're going to take the piss out of me for days, aren't you."

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't."

"I just wanted to see him." She glanced at his pajamas. "And don't think I don't see your pocket has a letter-shaped something sitting in there."

James' eyes rounded comically. "No it doesn't."

"Really?"

James sidestepped her hand that reached for his pocket, ears turning pink. "Those are my potions notes, leave it alone."

"They are not."

"Yes they are, Hermione!"

"I'm just calling a spade a spade." Hermione smirked, crossing her arms when James reddened further. "You were sending a love letter to Lily." She relished James's eye roll when she puckered her lips and mimed a kiss.

"This is getting silly, Hermione."

"Perhaps." Hermione's eyebrow rose. "But I'm happy to think they're potions notes. If properly incentivized, that is."

James pinched his face and waved her off. "Fine, just never talk about this again!"

He scurried down the hall and Hermione grinned in satisfaction. She glanced at Sirius's door and sighed. So much for that. The run-in with James had cooled her down considerably.

It was for the best. She didn't want to compromise anything with dream-induced desires. Quietly, Hermione stole into her dormitory and slipped back into bed.

xxx

Hermione nearly choked on her cereal when a warm body suddenly pressed into her side. The scent of Sirius's aftershave filled her senses, and she caught a glimpse of his smile as he settled next to her at Gryffindor table.

"Mornin', love." Sirius dropped a kiss to her cheek before snatching some toast for himself.

Hermione smiled faintly. "Morning."

Sirius glanced at her as he piled his plate. "You alright?"

Hermione nodded quickly, ignoring the flip in her stomach. "Fine, just tired. Did you sleep well?"

"Not really." Sirius took a bite of toast. "But I'll live."

Hermione frowned and leaned a little closer to Sirius. Shadows swelled under his eyes. "What is it?" she asked softly.

Sirius smiled a little and shook his head. "Nothing. Just stress."

"About the…"

"Mm."

Hermione stroked his hand gently. "It weighs heavily on you," she murmured.

Sirius bit into his toast again and shrugged a little. "I'm worried. I'm not finding anything."

"The library…" Hermione offered hesitantly.

"I've looked well enough, Hermione," Sirius cut her off. "There's nothing I can use for this."

Hermione nodded, thinking. "I wonder if we could break into Dumbledore's office."

Sirius lifted a brow. "You think he has the key to cursebreaking?"

She shrugged. "It's a big office. If not in the library, and not at your house, that's where I'd look."

Sirius thought on it a moment, chewing a corner of toast. "Suppose it's worth considering." He dropped the toast on his plate and raked his fingers through his hair, fingers curling inward. "I'm just not a bloody cursebreaker."

Making a soft noise, Hermione tugged his wrist and pulled his hand from his hair. "Sirius, look at me." Sirius lifted grey eyes to hers. "Last I checked you're Sirius, not Merlin. Don't pressure yourself so much you lose sight of that. What you've done so far is beyond brilliant. Okay?" He smiled slightly, nodding. She folded his hand with hers. "We will find a way. And we will destroy what's in that room."

"You're right." Sirius wound one of her curls around his finger. "You're gorgeous when you're heated, you know."

Hermione warmed, rolling her eyes. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller." Sirius kissed her softly. "When've I ever lied to you?"

Hermione's lips parted with amusement. "Oh Sirius, you don't want to open that can of flobberworms."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. "Let's open it! Between the two of us you're the one with the most secrets, love."

"Secrets aren't lies, pickle of my heart," Hermione smirked.

Sirius raised a brow, amused. "Oh?"

"Trying on a pet name for you. Too tart?"
"A tad inaccurate." Sirius shrugged good-naturedly. "Appreciate the attempt. Keep going."

Hermione matched his smile and stoked his fingers absently. "Hm, let's see… 'dearest'?"

"Too much like my mum."

"Beloved?"

"Only when we're apart."

"Crumpet? Boo-boo?"

Sirius snorted loudly. "It's perfect, snorkack of my soul."

Hermione grinned and entertained the idea of kissing him properly, but a loud gagging noise stopped her. Sirius and Hermione glanced up to find Scabior giving them a sickly look.

"I says it year after year, spare the rest of us and get a bloody room."

"Who's 'us'?" Hermione accused. Scabior gestured around the Great Hall. "Oh, please."

Scabior rolled his eyes. "The two o' you are sickening to watch."

"Then stop watching us." Sirius's smile was flat and mocking.

"Can't. 'S like a bad romantic story, you just can't look away. An' you're no fun anymore," he nodded accusingly at Hermione. "Before I could flirt shamelessly with you, innit? Now I'm ducking me arse from hexes by your beloved."

"None of what you said is true," Hermione replied with a frown. "You still flirt with me! And Sirius has never cast spells at you."

"Someday he might," Scabior muttered. Sirius nodded.

"He's right about that."

"Don't encourage him. Did you need something, Scabior?"

Scabior sniffed. "As a matter o' fact, yes. You seen Regulus?"

"No. Shouldn't he be sitting at the Slytherin table with you?" Sirius glanced behind him curiously. The Slytherin table was, indeed, notably absent of Regulus. "And isn't he your dorm mate?"

"Yes an' yes. Haven't seen him since last night." Scabior looked between them and shrugged lightly. "Whatever. You see him, don't bother telling him I'm lookin' for him."

"Doesn't that defeat the—alright," Hermione muttered as Scabior sauntered away, but not before spooking a group of first-year Hufflepuffs with a sudden roar. He laughed raucously when a smaller first-year shrieked and slid right out of his seat.

"I can't believe he's our friend," Hermione said vaguely, shaking her head. "We're genuinely friends with him."

Sirius grinned. "He's bloody hilarious. We should ask him to eat with us at dinner."

"Sirius."

"We could invite him to our common room. Poor kid's been sleeping in a filthy dungeon for years, it'd do him some good."

"He'll never leave," Hermione warned. Sirius shrugged and reached for an apple.

"We'll make a bed for him on one of the couches. Leave some treats."

"Now you're being silly."

"You're right, Hermione. We'll lose our snogging spot if he sleeps overnight."

"Or he sleeps in the bed with you," Hermione countered.

Sirius smiled slowly. "We'll still lose a snogging spot."

Hermione elbowed him lightly, making him snort. "In your dreams," she said loftily, while the back of her mind screamed, and definitely in mine.

"And yours, love."

Hermione eyes snapped up at him quickly but he was already distracted, crunching on his apple and waving Remus over to the table.

Hermione's gaze slid to Remus, who walked in tow with James and Lily. Sirius leaned in and murmured in her ear, "Was I wrong?" His eyes gleaming with mirth. She searched him, but found nothing but humor and fondness.

"You're not a mind-reader, right?"

Sirius tilted his head and smiled. "You mean no one's told you?" Hermione shook her head, feeling faint. Her heart beat fast in her chest. Sirius leaned in again, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "I can always read minds of the girl I fancy."

Hermione's breath caught as Sirius nuzzled her neck, sending a shiver through her.

"Yeugh," James shuddered, sitting across from them with Remus. "We're trying to eat."

Sirius moved away from Hermione. "Did we miss anything?" Remus asked, amused.

"Wards," said Sirius. "And Scabior sleeping in the Gryffindor common room."

Remus wrinkled his nose. "I don't know about that last, but I did some research on wards."

"And by research he means overhearing a seventh-year Ravenclaw talk about a bloke she met at the Hog's Head talking about getting trapped in one of the Pyramid of Giza on holiday and barely escaping the wrath of the pharaoh buried there," said James dryly.

"The pharaoh Khufu? Really? What'd he do?" Hermione asked excitedly. At James's unimpressed look, Hermione huffed. "His tomb hasn't been active in centuries, forgive me for asking."

"I'll tell you the details later," Remus promised.

"But what does it have to do with wards?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Well," Remus began, "remember that lesson on ancient Egypt in History of Magic? The pyramids in Egypt are well-known for their cursed tombs—and wards."

"That's right," said Hermione slowly with realization. "Ancient Egyptian wizards warded lots of passageways, left hexes behind."

Remus nodded, looking serious. "They also did a lot of ward-layering using ancient runes."

Her eyes widened. She turned to Sirius, who was equally struck. "Runic magic?" Sirius said quietly. "You think that's how Bellatrix warded her room?"

"It's dreadfully complex and horrid if you mess it up. Of course your barmy aunt used it," James muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "There are ways to make sure of it, though. You will have to pop back to the manor, but it's a start."

"Regulus," said Sirius firmly. "He'll need to check. I can't risk going back this soon. It was a close thing, getting Kreacher to comply. I'm still not convinced he won't find a way to betray us."

"He would," said Hermione, her voice quiet. Her gaze lifted to Sirius's. "If there is a loophole in his loyalty, he will find it. Within the limits of the magic binding him to your family."

Sirius's brow furrowed, giving her an odd look. "You seem certain. I don't think he actually would, or can, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

Hermione looked away, running her fingernail down the varnished grain in the table. She was certain. It was what Kreacher had done to Harry in their fifth year. It was what drew Sirius Black to the Department of Mysteries where he never had been; where he should never have gone. The lie Kreacher uttered had sealed Sirius's fate.

"The runes, though," said Remus, sounding eager, "are a starting point. An amazing one. This'll help us figure out how to un-weld ward layers, Sirius."

Hermoine dropped her gaze, idly spooning her porridge. The whiplash of emotions was beginning to overwhelm her. Desire, fear, and grief, spinning on a yarn's thread down the needle in her stomach, making her ache unpleasantly.

The hand in her lap was suddenly encased by warm fingers. Hermione looked at Sirius. He looked at her steadily, the corner of his mouth quirking before returning to his conversation with James and Remus.

Hermione squeezed his hand, reveling in the squeeze back.
xxx

"There you are," said Regulus, relieved, walking toward where Scabior laid on a bench in the courtyard. "This whole bloody time you've been here?"

"Looking for me, were you?" Scabior didn't move, keeping his eyes closed. "I'm tickled."

Regulus shoved Scabior's legs aside to sit next to him. "You read too much into everything."

"An' now I'm crazy? I should be flattered."

Quietly, Regulus closed the book in his lap. "I needed a quiet place to study," said Regulus. "Some of us do that, you know."

Scabior opened an eye, staring skeptically. "I call bollocks."

"Why?"

"Because the whole bloody castle is empty. You know how it is. Sun comes out after four weeks and everyone fucks off to the grounds."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Not in the morning, they don't. Anyway, I don't have to explain myself. What do you want?"

Scabior reared his head back slightly. "What do I want? You came to me!"

"Hermione mentioned you were looking for me."

Regulus smiled when Scabior swore. "Nosy witch. Forget about me—I want to know why you're acting," a flash of vulnerability crossed Scabior's face, "I dunno. This way. You're usually… alright. With me."

"No."

"No?"

"No," said Regulus forcefully and looked fully at Scabior. Something on his face made Regulus swallow uncomfortably. He glances down, swallowing. "Don't go there. This isn't about you. I'm not trying to be an arse. I just wanted… a place by myself to think. There's a lot on my mind, that's all. I wasn't avoiding you." He swallowed hard. "I should've told you what was going on."

Scabior said nothing. He nodded once, understanding. It happened sometimes, with Regulus. The walls would come in for him, and Scabior wouldn't hear from him for days until he felt ready. Eventually, Scabior nodded. "Alright."

Regulus hesitated, searching his face. Scabior grinned. "I know, I'm quite pretty."

Regulus smacked his arm, hiding a small smile. "You're so weird."

"Aye to that too. So?"

Regulus shrugged, not quite looking at him. "Anyone else wouldn't put up with me. Most people don't."

"Most people are stupid. And with my barmy family, I've loads of experience already."

"Charming."

"Aren't I?" Scabior grinned widely. Regulus laughed, and his eyes fixed on the angles of Scabior's face. Scabior coughed suddenly. "Anyways, I did come to find you for a reason."

"What's that?"

"Letter just came in this morning. My granddad's dead."

Regulus's jaw dropped. "Merlin, Scabs. I'm s—"

"Nah, we weren't close or anything. He gave me a coloring book once. I was five."

"Oh." Regulus's gaze flitted over him uneasily. "Er, still. Sorry."

Scabior nodded. "Thanks. That's not exactly what I came here for, though."

Regulus was looking at him like he'd gone insane. Warmth flashed in his chest. Scabior loved that look on him. "Then what?" Regulus asked.

"My granddad was Welsh, so I'm off to Wales at noon for the burial. McGonagall's seeing me off. My parents set up a portkey already."

"Oh." Regulus nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

Scabior licked his lips and cleared his throat, shifting a little in his seat. "I was told I could bring someone with me. For support." Lifting his eyes, Scabior deliberately held Regulus's gaze.

Understanding dawned on Regulus. "Of course. 'Course, Scabs, anything. I'll get dressed. Should I pack something?"

"Nah, it's just for the day. We'll be back at Hogwarts before midnight Bring some money, maybe, just in case."

"I can do that." Regulus watched him for a careful moment, then reached for his hand and squeezed. "I really am sorry."

Scabior nodded, gazing at Regulus with a soft look. "Let's go, then."

xxx

Sirius hated wards.

Bloody despised them. Overcomplicated ridiculous magic. A wizard with no life must have come up with them.

"I know what you're doing, you know."

Hermione's voice was a soft cut through the last hour of companionable silence in the library. It was an uncommonly warm afternoon, and most of the school had abandoned all pretense of studies in favor of enjoying the rare good weather. Sirius could hear students tossing a quaffle back and forth over the Black Lake, if the spike in cheering said anything.

With difficulty, Sirius had declined James and Peter's pleading to play a few rounds of Quidditch with their friends from the Hufflepuff team. Though in reality, it had not been very difficult. His mind simply could not settle.

Hermione and Sirius were sat at a desk shoved between bookcases and a dusty window, with only the occasional bang in the corridor for company, followed by Peeves's greasy cackling. Even Madam Pince, who never missed a day of keeping strict vigil at the circulation desk, had mysteriously ducked out of the library an hour ago. Sirius marveled at it. It was remarkable, to be forgotten so thoroughly.

Hermione sat beside him with a book opened in front of her. He spied the faded title: Malum Nocte.

Sirius looked up from his parchment. The tip of his quill was still pressed on a half-drawn parabola. Complicated equations bordered it in volume. "What am I doing?" Sirius asked.

Hermione glanced at him over her book, then to the parchment. "Some algebraic calculation?"

Sirius sighed, putting down the quill. "I don't mean the arithmancy."

"Oh." Hermione stared at him softly. "I just meant… I think I know how you're feeling right now. And you really shouldn't."

"What am I feeling?" He didn't really want to talk about this. Instead, he looked at her hair. It caught a particularly magnificent beam of midday sun, sending golden threads down her cheek and throat. The length had gotten longer in recent months, spilling well over the swell of her chest and down her back. It was distracting.

Hermione snapped her fingers in his line of sight and Sirius blinked. "Sorry, what?" he said, straightening.

"You didn't hear a word, did you?" she accused.

"Not one," Sirius admitted, and smiled at the adorable little knit that formed between her brows. "In my defense, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing!"

"I never said it was a bad distraction."

Hermione huffed, sitting back in her seat. Sirius mirrored her, admiring the knit between her brows. Once, his flirting was grounds for slammed books and storming off. Now, Hermione only folded her arms and regarded him thoughtfully.

He smirked when an unwilling smile pulled at her lips.

"You're ridiculous," she decided.

Sirius grinned and leaned in close, elbows resting on the desk, shelving the black hole of enchantments and equations for the moment. "On the contrary, Miss Granger," he said, eyes gleaming, "I am a very good learner. A little guidance would certainly change my ways."

An intriguing shade of pink dusted below Hermione's eyelashes. "Promises," she said, loftily. Sirius's gaze darkened. Hermione poked his shoulder firmly, actively ignoring her growing blush. "And you're distracting me."

He reached over and wound a curl around his finger. "I thought we established you were distracting me."

Hermione's expression cooled. "Sirius. You're deflecting."

Sirius's interest in Hermione's blush extinguished like a candle in rain. Her hair uncoiled from his finger with a soft spring, and Sirius sat back. "What's that, then?"

For a moment, Hermione regarded him. She always held a strong gaze, as if seeing through the layers of his being. It made others uncomfortable, and rightly so—but a key element to her nature that drew him to her nonetheless, that dark gaze.

Hermione gently placed her hand over his. "You don't have to feel badly that you haven't found a solution yet," Hermione said softly. "There's a reason cursebreakers are rare and highly trained in the Ministry."

"I wish hearing that changed how I felt," Sirius murmured. Hermione slid her thumb along the side of his wrist, quelling the well of impatience beneath his tongue. Sirius exhaled and took her hand in his. "You're right. I'm frustrated. Been a menace for weeks because of it. But mostly…" Sirius's jaw clenched briefly. "I'm frustrated with myself."

Hermione began to interject, but quieted when Sirius motioned her to let him finish.

"I know I shouldn't be, but face it, Hermione. I'm the bottleneck of this bloody equation. The hanging variable, the rhymeless riddle. Our purpose, this mission—your mission—can't move forward until we break through Bellatrix's wards. And no historic newspaper, no research in this library, no book in the restricted section can teach me which ancient rune will break and recreate her curses."

"Sirius, we only just realized it might be ancient runic warding. Of course you haven't figured it out right away."

A crease knitted between Hermione's brows as he admired her look of concern. The weight of it had him avert his gaze. "Let me be a little frustrated, love."

Rosy lips pulled into a frown. Hermione nodded, lowering her gaze. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Sirius felt like shit. "Please don't be."

Her thumb stroked against his skin gently. "I can be a lot."

"I like it."

She looked at him again, and the passion in her eyes made his chest ache, just a little. "I just… don't want you to feel alone. That's all. Just as you let me know all the time that I'm not alone."

Sirius's expression softened. "I appreciate it, love. Really."

Hermione nodded quietly. After a moment, she spoke. "Would it be better if I left you alone for a little while? Gather your thoughts?"

Sirius smiled a little and shook his head. "No need. I just…"

"I know. Helpful Hermione is officially deactivated."

Sirius snorted and wrapped an arm around her. Comfortable silence filled the space between them. Hermione was warm against him, the rise and fall of her chest a soothing constant. A sudden roaring cheer outside had Sirius glance out the window, but found only an azure sky with candy floss clouds.

Hermione nodded again, quiet. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The clamoring in his head had stopped. All that was left was Hermione's warmth, and the scent of her soap. Sirius nudged her elbow. "Go on."

Hermione frowned up at him. "What do you mean?"

Sirius shrugged. "You've thought of something but won't say it. Consider this your sign to let Helpful Hermione out of detention."

"I've hardly spoken. How do you know I have an idea?" Hermione sounded both curious and slightly offended.

"Love, I know you." He poked the corner of her mouth. "That there is your thinking frown. Now normally you'd say what's on your mind, but given our earlier conversation…" Sirius's lips quirked when Hermione crossed her arms, irritated. "You have remarkable restraint."

Hermione opened her mouth, as if considering protesting his assessment, but instead her frown deepened. "I didn't want to step on your… well, you know."

Fondness rushed inside him. Sirius leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. "Love, I'd let you trip me."

Hermione's nose scrunched in a laugh and she looked at him with equal fondness. "Oddly, I know you would." Her expression grew serious. "It's about what you said a moment ago. How no book or research paper could uncover the riddle of Bellatrix's wards."

"What about it?"

"Well… was Bellatrix particularly gifted at school?"

"Er…"

"I mean, was she getting all 'O's across the board? Did she graduate with distinction?"

"I don't think so. She cared for her marks about as much as she cared for getting married." Hermione's brows furrowed. "She didn't give a shit," said Sirius. "Still, she could cast some nasty spells even at school." Sirius's face pulled memories resurfaced. "She found vermin in the attic once when she was fifteen. Thought they'd make great practice."

"Wow."

Sirius hummed. "Kreacher had a dreadful time cleaning it up afterward. Why do you ask?"

Hermione chewed her lower lip. "Bellatrix doesn't strike me as someone particularly gifted, or remarkable at spells. Advanced spells. And I don't mean torturing, I mean proper spellwork. Like the curses you saw, or Remus's runes."

Sirius paused, thinking. "And… even a skilled witch couldn't create the kind of magic Bellatrix has around her room," he realized.

"Which means somebody other than Bellatrix put those wards in place."

The revelation nearly overwhelmed him. Sirius shook his head. "Voldemort has dozens of Death Eaters on retainer, and all with, most likely, varying degrees of specialized skills that could create those wards. Voldemort himself could've cast them."

"I'm not convinced Voldemort had any involvement," Hermione countered. "Remember, he entrusted the horcrux to Bellatrix. It would be her responsibility to safeguard it, and she'd want to prove to him that she could do it. Which means she'd be dead in the water if she asked help from another death eater. Why risk having someone else know she's warding her room? It would create questions."

She had him there. A thought struck him. "She could hire somebody and erase their memories. Or ask a favor from somebody in the family, someone she could trust."

"And once the wards were made…" Hermione started.

"She could show it off later to Voldemort, in private," Sirius finished, eyes widening. "Hermione. You brilliant minx."

Hermione smiled glowingly, and captured his fingers with hers. "I know. But now comes the real part."

"The real part?" Sirius tilted his head. She was so bloody radiant, flushed as she was with excitement. It took him a few seconds to follow where her thoughts led—and the excitement in his chest stalled with worry. "You mean to find out who cast the wards," said Sirius hesitantly. "And then make them undo it."

"And make them undo it." Hermione agreed, nodding.

"Hermione, pumpkin pasty of my life. You are undoubtedly clever, but even you can't persuade someone to betray Bellatrix like that. She's not just terrifying, she's lethal. I just don't see it working."

Hermione nodded slowly, her gaze holding his. "I never said anything about persuasion, Sirius."

Sirius's brow furrowed. Then, his eyes rounded and he glanced away. "Oh, fuck sake."

"Sirius, don't. It's our best option."

Sirius released her fingers and pressed his knuckles against his eyes. "Hermione," he said, frustrated. Sirius tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder and closed his eyes tightly. "What I said before, I meant it. How many pieces of yourself can you compromise until there's nothing left?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Broken bones can mend," Hermione said, quietly. "Between Voldemort and myself, only one of us has torn ourselves to shreds."

"And what of broken minds?"

"Nothing I can't put back together."

Sirius did not reply. Hermione's fingers gently pulled at his jaw, drawing his face to hers. "You said you'd let me trip you. Consider this a trip of my own, for the sake of the wizarding world." Hermione shook her head slightly. "For the sake of the world, period."

"That is awfully noble of you, Hermione."

"Needs must," she said simply.

Sirius exhaled slowly, patience held firmly between his teeth. "Love, I hear what you're saying and, barmy as it is, I do understand. I won't pretend I like it."

"Fair enough." Hermione looked away. "I don't enjoy it either, Sirius. You know."

"I know." Sirius's gaze softened. He turned his head slightly and feathered a kiss on her thumb. "I don't doubt it. Besides, Remus's talked about the… practice."

Hermione smiled thinly and glanced down at her lap. "I'm getting better at it, you know. He thinks another week or so and I'll be perfect."

Sirius's chest ached. "That's good, love," he said quietly.

"Yeah." Hermione's smile grew pained, until it twisted away. Sirius pushed his chair closer and Hermione inhaled shakily as he pulled her into his arms. Without their usual cover of school robes, Sirius felt all of her - her trembling, her breath, her tension. He gave a little squeeze when she exhaled against his neck.

Hermione pulled away a little and made a face. "You know, I'm not used to feeling you up this much in the library and not getting a stinging hex from Madam Pince at the impropriety."

Sirius matched her smile, propping his elbow over the back of her seat. "I know. Even Pince fucked off a half hour ago. I genuinely think she forgot we were here."

"Makes you wonder what made her leave so quickly."

"Shame, Hermione. Even libraries let their hair down."

Hermione laughed and Sirius leaned in and kissed her, a little desperately, and swept his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. He smiled when Hermione reflexively followed his mouth as he pulled away. She blushed prettily and bit her lip.

"Hermione?"

"Hm?"

Sirius grinned when Hermione pressed a soft kiss under his jaw. "Now that's dangerous."

"I can stop."

Sirius quickly pulled Hermione flush against him. "Don't scare me like that."

Hermione giggled and he swept his mouth over hers. Outside, a round of raucous cheers erupted from the quidditch pitch. Intrigued, they pulled away.

"From the sound of it," said Hermione, "someone just caught a snitch over the lake."

"A Hufflepuff, I think. I heard Craigley's voice among the cheering," said Sirius.

"Wonder who?"

They paused to listen. "Gallagher," Sirius determined with mild surprise. Niles Gallagher, to Sirius's knowledge, had tried for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for three years but never made the cut.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione asked, "D'you think they'll reconsider his tryout?"

Sirius shrugged. "Nah, but maybe next year they'll give him a fair shot."

"I hope so. It's his dream."

Sirius mouth quirked up a little. "I'm more interested in your dreams, love."

Hermione glanced at him, somewhat suspicious. She must have read something on his face, for her thumb stilled on his wrist and she stiffened. "Oh god. You know."

Sirius contemplated drawing it out, denying it flatly, just to torment her a little. But he wasn't interested in putting a front, not after the day he had. So he held her stare and laced his fingers with hers. "I do."

Pink dusted her cheeks. She looked away with a deep, angry knit in her brow. "I'm going to blast James's eyebrows clean off for this." Drawing her hand out from his, she folded her arms atop the desk and buried her face, embarrassed.

"James didn't tell me. Nobody did." Sirius said quietly. If anything, Hermione stiffened further, and she straightened with an accusatory glare.

"You can read minds!"

Sirius laughed and pulled a reluctant Hermione closer until he held her against him. "Or," he said quietly, "I always wake up when James gets out of bed, and I have very, very good hearing."

Hermione's eyes widened. He could see the gears turning in her head. "Oh," she said faintly.

Before she could try to pull away again, Sirius leaned down to kiss her cheek, soft and supple, then her neck. A shaky breath shuddered from her. "I wish you'd come in," he said, a low confession.

"Really?" she breathed, hands shifting to rest on his chest.

"Mhm." Another kiss, this time below her ear. A soft moan escaped her. "I could've told you some of my dreams. Most of them about one girl only. Care to guess?"

Her breath caught in her throat. She drew him gently from her neck, meeting his gaze with something that wavered between uncertainty, mortification, and…

Desire.

"Sirius," she whispered. Not pulling away. Fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Holding his stare, looking at him the same way he was at her.

He didn't know who moved first—only that her mouth was crushed against his, arms looped around his neck and pulling him closer, closer. His hands circled her waist and he pulled her atop the desk, pushing books out of the way, slotting himself against her as her thighs drew him in closer—so much closer.

She moaned against his mouth as he deepened their kiss, luxuriating in the taste of her, the softness of her lips. Merlin, he could do this forever. He wanted to do this forever. Her hands moved restlessly over him as he moved his palm to cup her breast. Her breath shuttered and he pulled away, watching her eyes flutter as his thumb found her nipple and raked his nail over it through her shirt. Her thighs tightened around his waist as she gasped his name.

He'd never heard a sweeter sound in his life.

xxx

Hermione didn't know how long they kissed in the library.

A good deal more than kissing, if she were honest, but it didn't matter. None of it did; not the horcruxes, not Voldemort, the fate of the world, so long as Sirius kept touching her.

He'd stripped off his shirt, lying somewhere next to hers on the chair she'd been sitting in earlier, now kicked haphazardly out of the way. Every breath was a gasp, every stroke against her skin lighting her nerve endings. She felt him hard against her and instinct had Hermione glancing around the library, expecting Madam Pince to suddenly materialize, or a student with a camera. But no one came. The library remained empty and silent, save for the both of them and their sounds of passion.

She was discovering a new part of herself. One that trembled at Sirius's kisses, that pooled with desire low in her abdomen. He'd scraped his teeth against her belly and she'd nearly arched off the desk.

This was a side of her that lay dormant for some time, burdened with responsibility in her own time, and the fate of the world in this one. But with Sirius it all burst forth, free at last, for the first time. He held her like he would never let go, and it made Hermione want to give and give and give.

Hermione was squirming against him, breaths labored and short as her bra had finally come off and his lips had sealed over a pert nipple, when he pulled away and buried his face in her neck. "What did you dream of?" His breath ghosted against her ear, sending a shiver through her.

"You," she breathed, fingers burrowing in his hair. "Me. A bed. Lots of snogging. It was nice."

She felt his breath huff in laughter against her neck. "I think I can do one better than dream-me," he murmured. He pulled back, darkened eyes boring into hers. "May I?" His fingers grazed the cotton underwear against her hip.

Her heart thundered in her chest, flushing deeply. Any moment now the reasonable side of her would shut this down, pull away. Demand she think. Remind her there was no time for intimacy like this. She had better, far more important things to focus on.

She was met with silence.

Hermione lifted her chin, smiling mischievously. "Are you sure? Dream-you was really onto something."

Sirius's eyes flashed dangerously. "Is that right? I guess I have to prove it to you then."

She shrugged, leaning back on her hands. "I guess so."

Sirius kissed her again, and Hermione was proven so, so wrong.

Gentle fingers slipped past the band of her underwear as he pushed her thighs further apart, fitting himself better against her. At first she was too distracted by what his tongue was doing inside her mouth, and then—

"Oh," said Hermione, tearing herself from his kiss. Sirius's fingers brushed against her again and she gripped his arm. "Oh!"

She'd just caught Sirius's rakish smile when he stroked her again, and again, and the new side of Hermione she discovered was not a quiet one, as her cries and gasp echoed in the library. It felt so good, and…and…

Oh—no, this was too much. It felt too overwhelming, building too high too fast, and it scared her. She said as much, or tried to, but was caught between off-kilter words and squirming, her body not knowing what to do. She tried to back away, but then she pulled him back against her because she would die if he stopped.

Sirius must have sensed her confusion and panic, for he slowed slightly and pressed his forehead against hers. "Don't run from it," he breathed. "Just let go."

"I—I'm not sure."

He paused, hesitating. "I'll stop."

Her body cried out in despair, already unhappy that his fingers went still against her. "Please no. I just…"

Sirius's gaze softened and he kissed her. Something deeper, less frenzied. His fingers swept against her again, slow, letting it build. "Follow it," he whispered against her lips. So she did.

This time, when it built higher, she let it. Let it lead her somewhere she'd never been. Her breath came in short gasps, Sirius's touch relentless, and he leaned over her chest and took a bud in his mouth again, sucking softly. And that was it—she said his name in a choked gasp as her world drowned in white.

xxx

From the corner of his eyes, Regulus watched Scabior tug at the collar of his dress shirt. "It's fine," he murmured.

"It itches," Scabior complained.

Regulus said nothing as they drew closer to the open casket in the drawing room of Scabior's family home. Not many high society families came, but just enough to show his family respect. From what Regulus was able to gather, Scabior's grandfather had lived by himself for thirty years, angry and reclusive, and bitterly avoiding the shadow cast from his ancestry.

They stopped before the casket. Scabior looked at it a long time, staring down at his dead grandfather.

Then, clearing his throat, he nodded at Regulus. "Alright, let's go."

Regulus followed Scabior's lead. He didn't willingly engage his relatives or the other highborn guests, grunting whenever someone approached them. Lunch had been prepared in the dining room buffet-style, but Scabior only glanced at him and headed for the stairs.

Regulus trailed after him. Scabior led them to a door that, with a quick spell under his breath, gleamed bright green before dissipating. He smirked at Regulus. "Just deactivated a bunch of dung bombs that would've showered down at us had we walked in without taking off the spell. Come on in."

Scabior's room, to little surprise, was entirely black.

Not in the posh, ornate way the House of Black was. There were no gilded frames or gothic molding: several posters of wizarding rock bands were spelled to the ceiling above Scabior's rather large bed. A variety of magazines and nick-nacks littered his desk shoved against the window, and a wooden closet on the other side of the room. A record player sat by his bed with a crate of records nearby.

"I like your room," said Regulus, honestly.

Scabior smiled brightly. "Don't make a man blush on his grandaddy's wake."

"Sorry."

Scabior sauntered to the records crate and knelt down. "D'you like the Wizard Skinners?"

"Never heard of them."

He pulled out a record of the same name. "Met them a pub in downtown London, once. The lead singer, his name was Craven-something. Anyways, turns out he met Billy Idol in Liverpool, ever heard a' him? Said the bloke really inspired him to start a band. An', well, for a muggle, he's got wicked sound. Craven tells me he tried smuggling Billy into Diagon Alley but he blacked out in the cab over."

Regulus chuckled, and the two settled onto the bed once Scabior set the record playing. They were quiet for a few songs, just listening. Rain had started to fall gently against the window.

"What were you thinking about this morning?" Scabior asked. Regulus lifted his gaze to meet Scabior's stare. It wasn't hostile; only curious. "That you had to disappear?"

Regulus didn't say anything at first. He let the song playing come to a close before he spoke, his voice quiet. "I was summoned home. Kreacher popped into the common room early this morning. I was trying to copy some notes."

Scabior stared at him in shock. "Bleeding hells. Are you okay?"

A smile graced his lips. "I am. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I was still… processing." He glanced down at his lap. "It was my father. He's been sickly, you know, but he summoned me. He was probably more coherent than I've seen him all year."

"What did he say?"

"He was… asking about my loyalties."

Scabior tilted his head. "In what way?"

Regulus shrugged. "He asked whom do I serve? I think it was a test. To see how deep my loyalty was to the dark lord."

"And what did you say?"

Regulus looked at him, some unspoken emotion swelling in his chest. "That I am loyal to my family." He paused, taking a short, tremulous breath, before reaching for Scabior's hand. "All my family."

The record hushed, the needle reaching the end of the vinyl. Scabior stared at him for a long while—long enough that Regulus started thinking he'd done the wrong thing in saying it out loud, the thing that laid unspoken between them for so long.

But then Scabior's fingers laced with his, and he said in a soft growl, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Making a man blush on his grandaddy's wake."

Hope flared in Regulus's chest. He couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face, and Scabior smiled back—a wicked, gleaming thing.

Just as quickly it faded, and Scabior looked at him seriously. "I was thinking a lot on the way here. Even more when I saw the open casket. I kept thinking how much he hated our family. Hated. And with good reason. The bloke died alone and unloved. And… I'm not so different. I hate these people."

Regulus nodded, squeezing hand around Scabior's. He continued.

"And I started thinking maybe that would be me next. I'd dreamed of getting out of here after I graduate, and maybe that would be how I turn out. Angry, isolated from everyone, and a maid finding my dead body during their weekly clean."

"Scabs…"

Scabior shook his head. "But then I started think if things turn out right. An' we survive what's to come. See, there's two things different between me and my grandfather." Regulus tilted his head, questioning. Scabior's lips twitched in a smile. "He didn't just hate the family, he hated everyone. Had no damn friends." Scabior's hand squeezed his. "I… don't hate everyone."

Regulus's heart kicked up, beating faster. "What's the second thing?"

Scabior's gaze darkened, smirking. "He didn't have someone like you to snog stupid."

Heat pooled in his cheeks. Using his other hand to fist Scabior's miserable collar, Regulus replied, "You talk too much."

"Then shut me up."

It was Scabior who moved though, pulling Regulus by his grip on his collar, and dazed, Regulus let him. His eyes shuttered closed when the softest lips he'd ever felt in his whole life moved against his.

xxx

Hermione was boneless with bliss.

They'd quickly left the library after…after, practically running to the Gryffindor common room. The school was still empty with the exception of a few ghosts droning ominously in the grand staircase, which Hermione was endlessly grateful for. She wasn't sure she could live down the very obvious post-release flush that still hadn't gone away from her face.

They were curled up in Sirius's bed per Hermione's request; she wanted to be somewhere that smelled of him. She'd felt a little awkward at first, wanting to do something for him in return. It felt inherently selfish to take from him, to reach the height of pleasure, and have Sirius brush off her hands with a swift kiss on her knuckles and drag her out of the library. She didn't know the rules yet, and she hated it. She was overthinking. She just needed to know what to do—what was right.

Sirius, as always, seemed to read her mind, for he'd laughed, in no way mocking, and a small blush formed over his cheeks as well. "Oh love, doing that to you was a pleasure in itself," he'd murmured, stroking her cheeks softly with his thumbs. "In the most literal sense you can think of. I'm perfectly content. You don't owe me a thing."

Hermione chewed on that for a moment. "What if I want to?"

Sirius's flush deepened, though his expression remained even and open. "Then I wouldn't stop you—except now. It er—wouldn't be much use."

Ah.

She'd settled after that. Now, for the first time, with Sirius's fingers running gentle patterns against her scalp as they laid in his bed, she felt truly at peace.

Sirius broke the silence with a soft question. "Could you tell me more about your life? Before the—before you came here?"

Hermione tilted her head up, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

"Not for anything in particular. You just… you help so much, Hermione. You care so deeply. It's past admirable, it's… I don't know what it is."

"You're exaggerating." Hermione waved him off, shifting a little uncomfortably. "And I have loads of help, mind. Severus, our friends, even your brother and that Scabior—who, by the way, have you noticed…?"

"Oh yeah, they're absolutely going to hook up, just a matter of when," Sirius nodded, brushing it aside, making Hermione hide a laugh. "I just meant, I can't begin to imagine how difficult it's been for you, not just with the horcruxes, but being here. Carrying memories of times you will never recapture." Sirius shrugged slightly and looked away. "I just want you to know. That you can talk about it with me. You should feel like you can talk about it, period." Sirius lifted his eyes and tried to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were blank, unreadable, with the slightest parting of her lips. "And if not with me, then Lily or Snape since they know too, just whatever makes you comfortable." He was rambling now, he could feel it, but Hermione kept staring at him in that unreadable way and it made words want to climb up his throat again. He quashed the instinct.

Hermione nodded slowly, quiet for a few moments. "My mum made the best tea," she said.

Sirius blinked, nodding a little. "What kind?"

"Sencha. She'd order them specially from Japan, which would take ages, but she had a whole brewing system. Not like how we make our tea, you know?" Sirius nodded again. "And my dad, he could bake the best jammy tarts. He told me his dream was to sit in his own study with my mum's cup of tea and just read. We didn't have a spare room for a study, you see, so he never did. He wanted it to be a proper library."

"That would have been incredible," Sirius said softly.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I asked Ron and Harry to help, once we graduated Hogwarts of course, make an undetectable extension to the house. Give my dad that study he always wanted."

"Could you…?"

"No." Hermione's voice was firm. Sadness touched her eyes and she looked away. "That timeline is broken. My parents, the Grangers, are finished. I'll never be born." Her lips twisted in a sad, bitter smile. "The Sands of Destiny are aptly named."

Sirius's chest ached. "A cruel device it is that could destroy so much to change time."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "I thought about it a lot. I don't think—I guess I don't know."

Sirius tilted his head, waiting.

"It's hard knowing the truth, you know? This wasa consequence of Dumbledore tampering with the sands. It's not the sands' fault he did that." She swallowed thickly. "It's not my fault that I'm here."

Sirius pulled her closer, and Hermione allowed herself to sink into the warmth of his comforting arms. A gentle quiet settled between them after that. Hermione started to doze a little, until Sirius's gentle voice roused her.

"Love?"

"Hm?" Hermione shifted closer to him.

"Could you… tell me about him?"

"Who?"

"Me. In your world."

Hermione stiffened against him, but relaxed a moment later. "What do you want to know?" she asked, curious.

"I dunno. Anything. You never really told me much about him. Me." Brown eyes met his, wide and curious. "You don't have to, of course. I just wonder."

"It's a very reasonable thing to wonder about," she said softly. "How much… do you want to know?" Her tone was careful.

She could sense it, though. Her walls were lowering, her trust in him filling the space between them. Knowing it made her heart feel lighter in her chest.

"Would it be alright to ask for all of it?"

Hermione bit her lip slightly, and glanced around the room one more time. She shifted against him, getting comfortable. "Okay."

"Really?" He was amazed.

Hermione nodded. "I think you're owed it, Sirius. I'll tell you whatever you want to know." For a moment her eyes took on a faraway look. "Someone should know."

Unease crept in his chest. "What do you mean?"

She blinked, coming back to the present. She smiled at him. "Nothing. Only, you should know I don't know a lot. I can tell you what I'd learned, and how you were when you came into our lives. Starting with a wanted poster."

Sirius listened, absorbed, as she described her third year at Hogwarts. He sat, riveted by the idea of being a godfather. Horrified that he'd endured twelve years in Azkaban prison, wrongfully accused of murder done by—

"Peter?" Sirius was shocked. "Our Peter?" Hermione nodded, hesitant. "What—who did he kill?"

Hermione was seriously regretting going down this path, but it was a point of no return. History was set, and Hermione would be here for the rest of her life. Her past, as far as Sirius understood, was permanently out of the picture.

"You're not allowed to tell anyone," said Hermione, her tone dreadfully quiet. Nervous. "It could alter everything."

"I won't."

"Swear it," she said quickly, the edges of panic forming in her eyes. "Sirius, I'm not joking about this. It could alter history for the worse. I'm trusting you with everything, now. Everything."

"I swear on my life, Hermione," Sirius replied, peering into her eyes with nothing but the honest truth. "I will never tell anyone."

She exhaled a shaky breath. "Okay."

She told him everything.

xxx

Hermione felt raw, after. To bare her soul, secrets, and body in one day. But Sirius held her and listened, sometimes catching his breath, sometimes grinning. Other times he was so still, somber and contemplative. Through it all, he held her.

"For all you know," she murmured against his chest, "We might've won. We could've all survived, grown old. Harry might've married Ginny in the end. We'll never know."

Sirius pressed a kiss to her hair. "They still might."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, say Lily and James do marry. Sprout a li'l Harry, and Molly still has Ginny. Maybe they still find each other in this timeline."

Hermione considered it, and the thought made her smile. "That would be so lovely. For him to find happiness." She squeezed Sirius's middle. "Like I've found happiness."

Sirius was quiet for a moment, then barked a laugh. "I cannot believe James convinced Lily to marry him."

xxx

The man, in the end, was named Cyrus Crane.

Severus had tracked him down with Regulus's help. Death Eaters were still few and far between enough that it wasn't terribly difficult finding the one that liked to show off his spellwork during his work hours in a museum. Severus, Regulus, and Scabior found him guzzling down bottles of firewhiskey in the Hog's Head, eyes misted and red as if he'd been crying earlier. Scabior had lent a solemn ear, listening to the man's sordid affair with a woman who left him for a vampire in Romania.

Hermione stared at Cyrus Crane contemplatively. They were in the charred remains of the Shrieking Shack; Sirius, James, and Peters stood at her right, Scabior, Regulus, and Severus at her left. Cyrus glared at her hatefully; had his mouth not been bound with magicked cloth, she was certain a litany of expletives would be thrown against her repeatedly.

"I can try reading his mind again," Severus offered, stepping close to her.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't waste your energy. We need that binding spell to hold. Plus, I need you for the other spell." Severus nodded, stepping back.

She bit her lip. "He is strong, though. I don't think I could… force him, to undo the wards."

Sirius squeezed her hand. "Then we learn how he did it."

Hermione nodded, squeezing quickly before letting go. She turned to Cyrus. "You have two options," she said calmly. "Willing, or unwilling."

Cyrus blathered against the cloth, sounding like he'd tried spitting.

James sighed. "Unwilling it is."

"We only have a few minutes," she said quickly. "I'm still not an expert at this spell."

"We're here," James said quietly.

Hermione stepped forward, lifting her wand. Cyrus began twisting away, panicking as she stared him down. There was nowhere for him to go, though. Her Slytherin friends had bound him tightly.

"For what it's worth," Hermione said with a frown, "I really hate to do this." She straightened her arm. "Imperio."

A calm spread over Cyrus. He looked at Hermione with glazed eyes. She glanced at Severus, nodding. He nodded back, flicking his wrist. The cloth around Cyrus's mouth slipped down, freeing him to speak.

"What did you use to ward Bellatrix Lestrange's bedroom in the House of Black?"

Cyrus smiled brightly. "Old spells. Old runes. It took less than ten minutes to put up. Madam Lestrange was pleased with my work."

"What were they specifically?"

"I can't remember by name. They were old. I found them in a book with a Latin-ish name. Bad night, or something."

"Malum Nocte," Regulus said the same time as Hermione. They glanced at each other.

Hermione turned back to Cyrus. "Where in the book?"

Cyrus smiled again. "It was a poem at the end. A lover's lament. Beautiful—and stupid. But beautiful."

Hermione knew the poem, but didn't recall anything significant of it. Certainly nothing of runes and wards. They'd have to pour over it once they returned to the school. "What else do we need to know to undo those wards?"

Cyrus shrugged good-naturedly. "Just a drop of blood from the person who cast it. You don't need it, but you'll be down a few limbs if you tried without."

"Fair enough."

"I'll take care of that." Remus stepped forward, drawing out a small vial from his pocket. With a swift flick of his wand, a cut appeared on Cyrus's thumb. Remus quickly collected a few drops before retreating.

"I think we're done here," Sirius murmured, staring at Cyrus uneasily. "The spell's wearing off."

He was right. Cyrus was appearing less and less glazed by the moment. Hermione nodded, exhaling slowly. "Alright. Severus?"

Severus nodded. The man blinked and Hermione felt her curse release its hold on him. He looked around before fury filled him. "You," he growled. "Traitors! The Dark Lord will hear of this! I will invoke his name and bring him your fucking heads—"

Severus stepped forward and pointed his wand at Cyrus's brow. "Obliviate."

Xxx

So let's not even talk about how long it's been. Nyooming right past that.

I debated for a long time in the span of this story if I would ever write the physical aspect of Sirius and Hermione's relationship. I have written a lot of smut in my lifetime for other fandoms and original work. This fic, though, I was never sure it needed it. For some time, I believed almost out of spite that this fic would focus solely on the slow build and the incredible depth of the plot. Now in my ripe age of 30-something, I felt it would be a disservice to the progression of their relationship not to allow Hermione to embrace that side of her. It was written less-graphic by design-I really wanted the emotion and exploration to be the highlight of the scene, rather than straight porn lol

A lot of comments questioned how this fic could possibly wrap up soon. I asked myself that too rofl. But it is. The outline is clear, and we're coming to a close soon. They have the Cup horcrux left, and then Voldy. Dun dun dun.

The Pharaoh Khufu referenced in this chapter was real. So is Billy Idol. Bless

Happy May! Hold your loved ones tight. We're going to get through this.

One last note. The creator of Harry Potter is a monster. This fic does not, nor does any of my previous work from over a decade ago, align with her beliefs.