Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Sands of Destiny	By : amidtheflowers Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Sirius/Hermione Views: 8603 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its respective characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This plot line, however, belongs to me. No money or profit are made from writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Chapter 8

Tabula Rasa

Panic.

Breathing was very difficult when all she could feel was panic.

You lost him? You lost him! Hermione's mind was going haywire as she stared at the empty couch, the glass bottle in her hand falling to the plush carpeted floor.

How on earth did he disappear so fast? She had only been gone for a second! Hermione ran down to the dining room, the bathroom, even the kitchens. She threw open the front door and searched nearby outside, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. Nowhere.

She went back to the kitchens and stared at the puzzled house-elves, trying to catch her breath.

"I need you to help me," she said breathlessly. "Sirius Black is somewhere in this house or around this block. Please help me find him."

Several elfish heads bobbed in compliance feverishly, and squeaks of "Master Black!" echoed in the kitchen. With successive cracks the house-elves disappeared and began their search.

She had only blinked a second later when a little elf popped back in front of her. Hermione jumped a little in surprise, but the elf squeaked, "Master Black is in the third floor bathroom!"

Third floor? She never explored that far…

"Take me, please," she said hastily, and small fingers grasped her wrist.

With a pop she found herself in a massive porcelain bathroom. Hermione glanced around frantically before she froze, her eyes landing on the target.

Hermione forced herself to look away and reverted her attention down at the elf still beside her, who merely bowed and disappeared with a loud crack.

A shaky breath rose in her throat, and Hermione glanced down at her bare feet for a moment, noting that they were growing cold at contact with the tiled floor. Rocking on the balls of her feet, she curled her fingers into fists and looked back up.

Slow, hesitant steps propelled Hermione forward. Had she the time, she would have stopped to marvel at the beautiful bathroom she was in, unparalleled to even the grandiosity of the lavatories in Hogwarts. It was…personalized, modest, and yet so…

The thought did not finish as Hermione reached the tub on the far side of the bathroom. It was wide and round, unlike the traditional elongated oval tub structure. She kneeled down lightly, the skin of her knees meeting the cold and unrelenting tiled floor.

She was afraid to speak, desperately fighting the urge to say his name. It would shatter whatever calm state he was in, that was for sure.

He was sitting down, leaning against the tub edge inside with one leg out and the other bent up. His arms were crossed over his stomach, his eyes closed as if to drown out the rest of the world. Wet tendrils of hair framed his face. He could have been asleep, but his fast intakes of breath gave him away.

Two minutes ago Sirius Black had been a shivering and incoherent mess, not to mention bodily injured. Now, most of his face—which had previously sported several gashes and bruises—was reduced to just a darkened shade of grey and some swelling below his right eye.

"I healed it," Sirius said, and she jumped a little at the sudden sound of his voice. He was watching her passively, probably the entire time she had been inspecting him.

She cleared the hoarseness from her throat. "That…they'll know you performed underage—"

"Not quite." He glanced at the ceiling. "There are a dozen or so house-elves performing magic here regularly. They won't know who performed a few simple healing spells."

They sat in silence. Hermione was at a loss of what to do. Should she speak to him? Comfort him? Ask him what happened? Why he showed up late at night at James's doorstep with two words etched nastily into his forearm and a battered face?

He was like a fuse waiting to blow out, and suddenly Hermione did not know what to do, or say, or think, and that frustrated her. Hermione was all wise words and motivational speeches, but when it came down to the crux of the matter, she felt she was as incompetent with saying the right words as a mountain troll.

"Do you want to get some sleep?" she offered softly, finally forcing some words come out of her mouth. "I can set up a room—"

The sagging of his shoulders made her stop. She wanted to cry at her inefficiencies at this simple interaction, at being unable to help him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, resting her forehead against her palms. "It seems I'm really…really rubbish at this."

Hermione did not know that after a while, Sirius had opened his eyes blearily to stare at her. Her fingers tightened in her hair, and she sighed softly and looked up. She was slightly startled to find him gazing at her so fixatedly, not even looking away when she gazed back at him.

His gazed lowered slowly, until he turned his attention to the crossed arms on his stomach. Slowly he moved his forearm and stared blankly.

Blood traitor.

Hermione flinched at the words, at the horrible thought of someone inscribing that into Sirius's arm. Was he held down? Sirius was not one to sit down and let others hurt him, she knew that much. Looking at the bloodied inscription, for some insane reason, gave her a bout of déjà vu, as if she had seen something like it before.

How did he get away? Was this…this was what prompted Sirius to run away from home?

Hermione looked back at his face, and felt her chest swelling with an indescribable emotion that she felt only twice in her life.

Once, in her fourth year when Harry returned from the maze clutching Cedric Diggory's body. The other, when she woke up in the Department of Mysteries to find Harry in hysterics after Sirius fell behind the veil.

She clamped down the urge to damn it all to hell and throw her arms around him, knowing it was probably not the wisest move in the book. Especially when Sirius was so out of it.

Without a second thought, Hermione slowly extended her hand. Pale fingers lightly grazed his cheek, and Sirius glanced up sharply.

"Come with me," said Hermione softly.

She dropped her hand from his face and reached for his hand. Gently she took hold of him and he watched her actions, then made his way back to her face. She could only gaze back with every ounce of sincerity in her body.

His hand returned her grasp, holding hers with a fierce grip as if she would slip away like water. She did not waver.

She helped him slowly rise out of the tub, and they walked quietly out of the bathroom and down the hall. Biting her lip, they walked down one flight of stairs and Hermione guided him to her own bedroom, where she had some first aid supplies.

Perhaps on a better day Sirius would have made some note of the décor of her room, and the simplicity of her bed sheets that went against every cardinal rule he knew of the female population, but at present he simply slumped down onto her mattress and watched with hooded eyes as Hermione moved about her room quickly, searching for something.

She bumped into the dresser hard and he heard her grumble a curse. She seemed a little out of her element, but that could be due to the fact that Hermione was not accustomed to this room, for she had just started to live in it.

He blinked out of his thoughts when she knelt before him, looking at her with some surprise. She gave an apologetic smile. "Excuse me, please."

He shifted his legs away as Hermione reached under the bed and pulled out her trunk. He watched her with curiosity as she threw it open and sifted through it, noting how everything was kept neatly in its place with every article of clothing carefully folded.

She pulled out a large pack from her trunk and started digging inside, her arm literally disappearing as she fumbled around. After a few minutes she sighed and retracted her arm, then dropped the pack back inside her trunk and pushed it aside. Rising to her feet, Hermione sat next to him and reached for his arm gently.

Sirius stiffened and gave her calculating look, but Hermione sighed again and answered his unspoken question, "It's to clean it, Sirius."

She reached for his arm again and this time he did not pull away. She rolled up his sleeve and opened her free hand, which had strange little squares in them. She ripped one open and took out a small towel, and her eyes flickered up to meet his briefly.

"This will sting."

He barely had time to respond when she started to wipe away at the bloodied words inscribed on his arm, and he hissed.

"What the hell is that," he said suddenly, eyebrows knitted together as curiosity got the better of him. Hermione could not prevent the smile that flashed across her face.

"Alcohol prep wipes," she said simply. "Muggle things. Don't worry about it, they're very effective at sterilization and cleaning."

He did not say anything else and merely watched her carefully clean his scarred forearm. Hermione had to admit that while Sirius must have been seriously injured, mentally, physically, and emotionally, it had not deterred from his abilities as a wizard when it came down to it. The healing spell he performed on himself was, for the most part, flawless. The inevitable part was the scarring, which Hermione thought she could definitely help with.

She leaned away from him and set the used wipes on her bedside table, then stood up.

"Can I trust you to stay here when I come back?" she inquired. Sirius's eyes flickered to hers for a moment, then nodded.

"I'll be right back," she said quickly, and made a swift exit down the stairs to pick up the glass bottle she had dropped earlier. Bounding back up the staircase, Hermione reentered her room to see Sirius sitting exactly as he had before. Taking a breath, Hermione resumed her position beside him.

"If you don't mind," said Hermione carefully, "I have something that can heal the scarring."

Sirius glanced at the bottle with an unreadable expression. Perhaps he was skeptical or thoughtful, she would never know, but his reply was what shook her.

"I don't want it healed," he said simply.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Wha—why?"

Sirius shrugged. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "If this is some gallant display of bravery or sheer masochism, I don't want to hear it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her words. "Do I look like a masochist, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned, shaking her head slowly. "I still don't understand why you don't want it gone."

Sirius looked away and gazed into the distance. Hermione rolled the bottle lightly in her hand and sighed. She could not force him to use the potion if he did not want it, but it still left her deeply puzzled. Everything about this night was leaving her deeply puzzled.

"Where's James?"

Hermione glanced at him and shook her head. "I actually don't know…he said he was going to contact his parents."

Sirius nodded and then gently began rolling down his sleeve. Hermione peered at him curiously, and asked, "Would you at least like me to help with what's left of the bruises?"

Sirius blinked in surprise, as if forgetting he even had them. "The ones on my face?"

Hermione frowned slightly, afraid of the answer she would get. "Are there more?"

Sirius shrugged, and Hermione was glad she had the patience she knew Harry and Ron never had; or if they did, they struggled deeply to convey it. Taking slow breath, she murmured, "Well yes then, let's start on your face."

Hermione stood and retrieved her wand from her dresser, then sat next to him and motioned for him to turn to face her. He eyed her wand and said, "What about the Ministry, Hermione?"

The corner of her mouth twitched up slightly, and she replied, "With a dozen or so house-elves working here round the clock, a few healing spells won't attract too much attention."

She conjured a bowl of water and a cloth, and began by dabbing the dried blood from his face first. She felt like too much like her own mother when Hermione had been a child. Playing outside as a young girl always had its hazards, and she could not count the amount of times Hermione had returned home with a scraped knee or a splinter. The thought of her parents brought a flood of wistful feelings inside her. She did not even get to tell them goodbye…and she never would.

Shaking her head to quell the stinging sadness threatening to overtake her mind, Hermione focused on the task at hand.

For someone as raucous and rambunctious as Sirius Black, he was an awfully good patient. He remained quiet as she cleaned him up, and if the alcohol stung, he did not voice his complaints. Somehow the words 'taking it like a man' seemed very befitting for this instance.

She brought her wand to his face and with a flick of her wrist, reduced the swelling of his eye and slowly cleared the bruises from his face. The scars of his injuries remained, as Sirius wanted, and within a few minutes he appeared in far better condition than what he arrived in. Satisfied, Hermione moved away and gazed at him appraisingly.

"I think that should do it," she muttered, eyeing him critically. She set her wand down and moved to toss the bloodied supplies out. Sitting back on the bed, Hermione sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

"Are there…any other places where you're hurt?" she asked hesitantly. Sirius glanced at her impassively before shrugging.

"It's not as bad."

She clucked her tongue. "It can't hurt to clean it up, can it?"

"It's nothing, Hermione," said Sirius firmly. "Let it go, alright?"

She bristled slightly, but heeded his words and his need for privacy. "Would you like to go downstairs, then?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"Would…you like a room to get some sleep in? There's so many here, I haven't even started exploring it all." As she said the words it sounded silly; Sirius had probably scoured the Potter manor a dozen times and back. He clearly knew his way around the third floor, a place even she had not stepped foot in yet.

"No thanks."

Hermione lowered her eyes, and laced her fingers together.

"…Would you tell me what happened tonight?"

She waited for a response, but he remained eerily quiet. It was so odd, seeing Sirius like this. Normally he was vivacious and loud and filling the air with infectious laughter; even in anger he was cutthroat and direct. Never had she seen him so…silent.

"I made a decision," said Sirius suddenly, and Hermione almost jumped at the break in silence, "one that my family did not like."

Her brow furrowed slightly at his words. He looked at her then, a mocking smile twisting at his lips. "They gave me a very fitting birthday present, don't you think?"

Hermione's mouth parted slightly at his words. Blinking furiously, Hermione whispered in disbelief, "Today…today is your birthday?"

"December 18, 1959," said Sirius solemnly, and shrugged. "My sixteenth birthday could have been worse, mind you."

"Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that," Hermione replied incredulously. "I'm sorry if it offends in any way, but your family is mental. Absolutely, positively mental. What they did—what they've done—I can never forgive it."

"You don't even know what it is you're not forgiving, love," said Sirius quietly.

"I can draw conclusions, from what I'm seeing and from what I've heard," replied Hermione unsteadily. "Although you are correct. I'll never know what they did to you. Not unless you tell me yourself." He lowered his eyes to his own calloused hands, and Hermione added, "When you're ready, of course."

"There's not much to tell," answered Sirius distantly with the barest hint of a shrug. "I never…I've never really been a part of the Black family. Like oil and vinegar. This…" he gestured to himself, then around him in nonchalance, "was going to happen eventually."

Hermione slowly digested his words, feeling some relief that he was talking a bit more again. "You're…you're not going back, are you." It was stated as more a fact, and the more she thought about it the more she knew that was the answer. "You've run away."

Sirius looked at her in the eyes, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. "You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione."

Hermione did not know if that was said mockingly or earnestly, but frankly at this point Hermione did not care. Sirius was safe. The Potters would be coming back shortly. There was not much else she could ask for at this point.

"Hermione?"

Both Sirius and Hermione looked up at the voice that entered her bedroom. James was standing by the door, looking more anxious than he did during the first Quidditch match of the season.

James stepped inside slowly, looking immediately at Sirius. "You alright there, mate?"

Sirius nodded, giving a slight shrug. "Been better…but I'll live."

"Mum and Dad are on their way," James informed them, and shifted uneasily on his feet. "You want to crash in your room? At least until they arrive, and then we'll head to St. Mung—"

"I'm not going to the hospital," said Sirius firmly, his posture stiffening. James gave an incredulous laugh.

"Sorry mate, but I don't think you have a choice this time."

"I don't need to. I'm healed, and I'm fine. Right Hermione?" Sirius looked at her directly in the eye, and having him looking at her so resolutely made her shrink back slightly. "You healed my bruises, and I healed my arm. It's alright."

Both James and Sirius were looking at her, but with distinctly different expressions. However, both were gazing at her expectantly, and Hermione began to shake her head slowly.

"I…I don't think…"

"There, she agrees with me. You're going to the hospital," said James, and Sirius whirled back at his best friend.

"Don't put words in her mouth, Prongs! She hasn't said anything yet!"

Hermione had a feeling this argument would only escalate further if she did not stop it before it got out of hand. Standing to her feet, Hermione raised her hands slightly.

"Enough, you two," she said sharply, and they snapped their attention at her. Taking a shaky breath, Hermione said, "Sirius is tired. Just…let him rest, for now. We'll figure everything else out when the time comes."

Neither looked entirely satisfied with her neutral response, but before either could protest Hermione took Sirius by the arm and forced him to stand up. Turning to James, she quipped, "Please show me to his room."

James glanced one last time at Sirius before heading out the door. She followed him, her hand still wrapped around Sirius's arm.

"You don't have to guide me like a duckling, sweetheart," said Sirius blandly, and Hermione fought not to immediately let him go, "I know my way around this house."

"Yes, well," mumbled Hermione, holding onto him even tighter. "I don't exactly trust your ability to stay standing right now."

"What indication did I give that makes you assume I can't walk?"

Hermione looked at him with an annoyed glance and muttered, "Just walk, please."

xxx

Sixteen hours later, the chaos surrounding the Potter residence barely lessened.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter arrived back sometime at midnight, frantic and searching for Sirius, who was momentarily fast asleep in his bedroom. Coincidentally, Sirius's summer bedroom was two doors down from her own. Hermione tried not to dwell on the irony.

She had awoken at the sounds of loud voices, and blearily stumbled down the hall to see a very resistant Sirius and a very enthusiastic Mrs. Potter with her arms wrapped around Sirius's torso and hugging him tightly. He seemed to be vehemently refusing a trip to St. Mungo's, and shot down every attempt made on Charlus Potter's part to persuade him otherwise. For once James did not take the side of his best friend, and after reaching land's end, Sirius turned to Hermione for rescue, eyes wide with desperation.

"Hermione?" Charlus asked. "Do you agree?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but no sound came out. What was she to say?

So she gave him what she was best at giving; facts.

"Sirius healed most of his injuries before I got to him," Hermione said slowly. "Physically…he should be fine."

Sirius gave a look of triumph and firmly but gently extracted himself from Dorea's embrace. "See, even Hermione agrees. I'm alright."

"And mentally?" Charlus inquired, still gazing at Hermione. Sirius's face hardened slightly at this, and his eyes shot to Hermione's face.

Swallowing hard, Hermione was at a loss of words. She did not like being put in this position. But what was perhaps worse, was Sirius watching his fate being decided for him…and that was Hermione could sympathize with.

"Mr. Potter, with all due respect," said Hermione quietly, "…I don't think it's a decision we have a right to make for him."

Perhaps that should have been an indication that chaos would ensue; nonetheless Sirius stayed firmly in his bedroom all night, and Hermione could not help but tread timidly around the Potters, for she knew they must have been deeply dissatisfied with her answer last night.

The next morning passed with a stiff breakfast ordeal, and Hermione firmly ignored the pointed glares coming from James. Thankfully Dorea and Charlus were not too cross with her, for when they noticed their son's behavior they quickly reprimanded the fifteen-year-old teenager.

The day passed quickly, though perhaps much more quietly than she presumed, what with Sirius staying with them indefinitely. Though the subject had not been broached yet, she knew it would be arriving soon.

All the Potter residents had decided to spend the day inside their respective rooms, a stark contrast to what it had been the past few weeks. Needless to say, it made Hermione feel uneasy.

And then the moment, the one she had been expected with abated breath all day, arrived.

Dinner was a quiet affair. James was sitting across from her, and Sirius was sitting on her left. The food was delicious, as it always was, but she could not keep the uneasiness from creeping inside her as she snuck discreet glances at the Dorea and Charlus, then at the two Marauders. It felt…off.

After ten minutes, the sound of a fork cluttering onto a plate resounded in the dining room. Hermione looked up sharply to see Charlus staring resolutely at Sirius.

"Son, I think it's time we spoke about what happened last night."

Dread pooled inside of her. Was now really the right time to discuss this?

Sirius glanced between Charlus and Dorea. "Uh…"

Dorea spoke up softly. "Sirius, dear," she placed her hand on his, "we cannot even try to help you if we don't know what happened. Please," she said gently, "tell us."

Slowly he set his utensils onto the plate, and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "There's…not much to it."

"Start with what there is, then," said Charlus.

"It's...complicated, Mr. Potter," said Sirius hesitantly, "It was my birthday yesterday. I was given an ultimatum that I've been expecting for some time…and I did what my parents did not approve of. They branded me, and I left." Defiantly, he added, "Permanently."

Charlus was nodding slowly. "They've cut you off, I presume."

Sirius nodded. "Before I left I owled my uncle about what happened, and I got an answer this morning. I think he'll be coming by soon with my things from my house."

At this, Charlus's face cracked into a smile. "I always did like that man."

Dorea gazed at Sirius with a very motherly look. "Sirius, you know that this house will always be your home as well," she looked at her husband, who merely nodded in agreement. "We expect we don't really need to say it verbally, for you should already know, but I'll say it anyway for good measure." She looked at Sirius firmly in the eye. "We're glad you came to us, Sirius. You are welcome to stay here—permanently—if you so wish."

Sirius gazed at her for a moment, before a genuine smile spread across his face.

"Thank you," he said honestly. Slowly the tension lessened and Hermione resumed eating her dinner slowly.

There was still a lot she did not know about Sirius. But she did not mind waiting to find out.

A loud knock on the door startled Hermione, and Sirius rose from his seat.

"That was damn fast," he muttered under his breath, and pushed out of his chair quickly. Everyone else followed suit, plates of dinner long forgotten as Hermione slid out of her own chair and followed Sirius into the foyer. He opened the door quickly and watched him pause for a moment.

"You're the bloody greatest, Uncle," she heard him say cheerily, and he threw his arms around the man standing in front of the door.

"Are you kidding? You managed to piss off more people than I did when I lived at Grimmauld Place," the man laughed loudly, his voice tinkling with amusement.

Sirius pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. "You have my clothes?"

"And your school trunk," said the man with a wink. "Dear old Walburga was so happy to see me, she accidentally mixed a wine-pouring charm with crucio."

"Classy, as always," said Sirius with obvious disgust. "Please, come in."

Sirius stepped back and Hermione was finally able to see the mysterious uncle at the door. She presumed this was the man Sirius had wanted her to meet when she accidentally time-travelled to 1970, and surely enough, he was as jovial and charming as she thought he would be.

The man exchanged a few words with the elder Potters, and ruffled James's hair roguishly and grinned when James tried to swat him. His eyes landed onto Hermione, and she shifted a little nervously, trying to find her voice so that she could properly introduce herself.

Just as she stepped forward, Sirius's came beside her. "I'm so sorry, I don't believe you two have met before. Hermione, this is my Uncle Alphard. Uncle, this is my classmate Hermione Granger."

"Ah, the one you wrote about a while ago?" Alphard Black said with a knowing grin, and Hermione gave a nervous smile before glancing at Sirius, who was glaring at his uncle.

"No I don't believe I have," said Sirius tightly, but his words were ignored on the older Black. Extending his hand, he flashed a grin. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. I am truly sorry for what happened to you over the summer."

She shook his hand firmly, and gave a small smile. "The pleasure is mine, sir. And thank you."

Alphard's eyebrows shot up in the air as he gave his nephew and hearty look. "Did you hear that, Sirius? 'Sir'! I think you've met you ma—"

"You must be tired, Uncle, please come eat with us," Sirius interjected, and Alphard put his hands up in a show of complacence. As he started for the kitchen, Alphard glanced back at Hermione and gave her a sly wink.

Hermione sighed and followed, wondering when her life would return to some semblance of normalcy.

A plate of food and a spot on the table were quickly attended to, and Alphard was seated beside James as dinner was resumed. Idle chatter filled the air, and Hermione glanced over at those seated at the table. James was in some sort of argument with Alphard about a current Quidditch team, and even Charlus had decided to join the conversation and was quick to take the Alphard's side, much to James's annoyance. Her eyes wandered to Sirius, who was watching his uncle with rapt attention, and grinning occasionally before sharing his own input. It did not take a genius to see how much Sirius adored his uncle, and especially how the feeling was unfailingly mutual. Alphard Black's mere presence had been enough to lift Sirius's spirits, bringing him back to a somewhat normal disposition.

After a while when dinner had been finished, Alphard focused his attention to his nephew with a sobered expression.

"Sirius," he said lightly, "I presume you wish to stay with the Potters for the remainder of your school years?"

"Yes," he said automatically, before frowning a bit. "Unless you…you'd like me to stay with you?"

Alphard shook his head and threw his hands in the air in defense. "I want you to do what you want to do, Sirius," he said calmly. "It's always been your better instinct so far. I'm just letting you know the option is always open. I know you have two of your friends living here, and I wouldn't want to take that away from you. You've been living under too many damn rules for the past sixteen years, and I sure as hell am not about to give you any more."

Sirius smiled slightly at this, and nodded. "Then I would like to continue to stay with the Potters. Until the end of my seventh year."

"Don't be silly," said Dorea sharply. "You can't be expected to graduate and have a job so quickly, my dear. You can stay here as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," said Sirius politely, "but…it's something I have to do."

"All is well," Alphard interjected when it seemed Dorea was going to reply, and focused back on Sirius. "I saw your name blasted off the old family tree just like me as well. Swelled in pride, if you asked me, but naturally that occurrence has its pitfalls. You've been stripped of your inheritance, I presume?"

"Down to every last knut," Sirius said with a half grin. Alphard chuckled and shook his head slightly.

"You never cease to amuse me, my dear nephew." He sighed and cleared his throat, glancing around suddenly. "Well, it's not wise to stay sitting like this. Let us clean up, shall we? I'll help your trunks up the stairs, Sirius."

"I can do it," James offered, already rising to his feet. Alphard placed his hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"I'd like to do it, my boy," he said gently, and James nodded slowly, slight confusion etching on his face. He moved to Sirius's school trunk and gripped the handle. "Come, Sirius, bring up your bags."

Sirius gave a strange look and did as he was told, grabbing his bags and heading up the staircase behind his uncle. Hermione blinked, and looked at James in curiosity.

"What was that about?" asked James with a furrowed brow.

Charlus sighed and rose from his seat. "We'll find out soon, enough, son. For now, I think it's best we start preparing for the Christmas party."

Those words immediately caught Hermione's attention. "The what?"

Charlus looked at her in confusion. "Has James not told you?"

Hermione shot a dour look at her now step-brother, who gave an unapologetic grin.

"Oops?"

"James!" she gasped. "This is what you've been hiding from me? Seriously?"

"Hey, I thought it'd be a really good surprise when I woke you up on the twenty-third and threw you into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder."

"Floo—why would we need that?" Hermione looked at the Potters with unveiled consternation. "Are we going somewhere?"

Dorea looked at her fondly, and reached over to pat her on the head. "Oh yes, dear. You're going to love it."

Before Hermione could ask any more questions, the sound of loud steps down the stairs entered the hallway, and Hermione finally rose from her seat and grabbed her plate to put into the kitchen.

"Well, it was wonderful seeing you all again," said Alphard cheerily, adjusting running a hand through his cropped black hair, much like she saw Sirius do so frequently. A smile quirked her lips when she realized where exactly he had gotten it from. Alphard approached the door, but paused to give her an approving glance.

"Keep an eye on him, dearie. He's rough with the things he cares for."

Blinking in surprise, she barely had a chance to give a proper farewell before Alphard Black was out the door, and disappeared from sight.

James, who had been standing next to her, turned his head slightly. "Oye, mate! What's with face, yeah? You look like you've just swallowed bubotuber puss."

Sirius had come back down the stairs, and was looking quite dazed. Hermione frowned and walked up to him in concern.

"Sirius, what happened?"

Sirius shook his head, his eyes barely focusing on her.

"It's my uncle…he just gave me nearly all his inheritance."

xxx

Hermione stifled a sigh as she finished brushing her teeth. Stretching wide, she trudged back into her bedroom and crawled to her bed, wishing for nothing more than entering the dream realm in a long, uninterrupted bout of sleep. Before she could even fluff her pillow, however, the door to her bedroom knocked.

"Come in," she said tiredly.

The door swung open silently and Hermione was surprised at her visitor. "Sirius?"

"Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair in a show of nervousness.

"Is…something the matter?" she asked uncertainly. She watched him shake his head, and Hermione sat up in her bed. "You can sit if you like," she offered when he made no move to speak any further.

He sat down immediately, and Hermione had a feeling that this was no casual 'good night, sleep well' talk.

"Did something happen?"

Sirius looked at her for a moment before nodding. "It was a while ago, though."

Hermione was getting seriously confused at this point, and voiced it as such. "Sirius, you're not making any sense."

He gave a slight chuckle and shook his head. "Yeah, I suppose I'm not." He sighed, and looked at her slowly.

"So…I know this may not be the best time to discuss this…but I mean, it's a giant bloody elephant in the room whenever we're in the same vicinity and I thought it was about time to clear it up. Especially if we'll be living together for next few years."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I'm not following…"

Sirius's hand gripped her sheets in a tight grasp, and he let out a loose breath.

"I've been an uncompromisable arse to you for the past few months."

Oh.

Hermione blinked slowly, and suddenly a rush of memories flooded her mind. Right, right. It had been quite awkward between them for a long time. The past few weeks, and especially last night, had caused her to temporarily forget the strange and tarred atmosphere between them, but it seemed it was still fresh in Sirius's mind.

"It's alright," replied Hermione after a moment.

Sirius glanced at her, his expression shifting from penance to disbelief. "That's it?"

And the confusion returned in full force, and Hermione found herself at a loss of words. "Er…I'm sorry too?"

"You're—wait, why are you sorry?"

"I—what is this about, Sirius? I really don't understand. Is this about what happened at Hogsmeade?"

Sirius stared at her for a moment before adding a little gruffly, "And what I said to you in my dormitory. And how I ignored you. And—"

"I understand," Hermione interrupted before he could go on a tirade. "And I accept your apology. But…to be fair, I haven't been exactly kind to you either, so for that I apologize as well."

"But that's bloody insane," said Sirius suddenly. "You've been nothing but kind since you've come here."

"You make me sound like a saint," Hermione muttered, knowing quite well that she was anything but.

"I should not have been so angry when I saw you talking to my brother. He and I—" Sirius sighed, and shook his head. "We don't exactly get along, as you might have been able to tell. And seeing you talking to him…well, at the time I didn't like it, and honestly I still don't like it, but I should not have said those things to you. They were very cruel."

Sirius Black is apologizing to me, Hermione thought with wonder. And it was a sincere one, from the looks of it. His face was the picture of penance, and she knew that he did not throw out these kinds of apologies all of the time. He was sincere, as he always was.

"Sirius," she answered quietly, causing his grey eyes to flicker down onto hers. She took his hand gently, and gave a smile. "Honestly. It's alright. I'm not one to hold a grudge."

After digesting her words, a small smile quirked the side of his wonderfully full mouth. "And you wonder why you're a saint," he said with a tone of amusement. His eyes sobered, and he looked at her firmly. "About Hogsmeade," he started, but Hermione quickly stopped him before he could continue.

"It's all in the past," said Hermione placatingly. "Please just let it be."

Sirius nodded his head. "I won't do that to you ever again," he said sincerely, but the words meant more than she was certain he realized.

He really had been trying to hurt her by strolling around with another girl. She had meant that much to him, that he wanted to hurt her like that. Not that it was in any way a good thing, but it was certainly something perplexing to behold when realizing it.

She meant something to him.

Hermione had thought coming to this time would mean staying hidden in the shadows and passing quietly through the years, destroying horcruxes as she found them. But it was a bitter life, a lonely life that Hermione knew she could not live with. Not after having friends like Harry and Ron. Not after that.

And there it was, the realization that that kind of solitude was never meant to be a life for her; she would always need someone to help her, to befriend her, to make her life worthwhile.

And in this lifetime, it was the Marauders.

A grin had spread across her face and she did not even realize it until Sirius had begun grinning with her, though slightly more nervously than her.

"Hermione?"

"Tabula rasa," said Hermione suddenly, her smile dizzyingly wide.

Sirius's eyebrow went up. "Now I'm the one not following, love."

Hermione nodded, and squeezed his hand. "Everything is in the past now. We can start good as new, if you'd like."

"Tabula rasa," he said slowly, rolling the words on his tongue as if testing it out. He flashed her a slow grin. "I like the sound of that." He released her hand and held his out to shake hers properly.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Sirius Black. I have an affinity of being an insufferable asshole."

Hermione suppressed her laughter as she shook his hand. "Hermione Granger. I tend to be an insufferable know-it-all."

He laughed at her words, and Hermione could not help but join him as she recalled when a certain Potions professor had said those very same words to her a few years earlier. "Ah, but those are the best kinds, love," he said with a smile, and Hermione was not about to disagree with that.

xxx

"Honestly, is all this really necessary?" Hermione complained as she brought a trunk down the stairs with James hot on her heels.

"You'll be laughing at your own silliness soon enough, dear sister," said James with a grin.

"Sirius is hardly bringing anything with him," she noted, turning to look back at the sleepy Black heir following behind her. He gave a tired grin. "That's because I know what to expect, love."

She barely had time to dwell on his response before Dorea came rushing to her. She glanced over to James. "Is she ready? Does she have her things?"

"She does, actually," Hermione replied for herself, finding it odd how she was being spoken about when she was standing less than a foot away from Dorea.

"She's fine, mum," James replied easily, and then took Hermione by the arm and guided her to the living room. He lowered himself to her ear and whispered, "Are you ready?"

She blinked up at him and replied, "For what?"

He seemed to have found her response amusing, for a deep chuckle left his throat. "Ah, my lovely Hermy. You'll see soon enough."

"Her—my—ow—nee," she hissed under her breath, but was cut off when a pinch of Floo powder was thrust into her hand, and was suddenly ushered into the fireplace.

"Now, repeat after me," said James seriously. "Number Six, Draper Court."

"Number Six, Draper Court," Hermione repeated slowly, and James frowned.

"That was the worst repetition I've ever heard. Put some heart into it, woman!"

"Number Six, Draper Court!" Hermione cried loudly, and threw the powder down onto the fireplace. A mass of green flames erupted and enveloped around her, and Hermione felt the telltale rush of traveling by Floo network.

Hermione staggered into a new fireplace, and coughed when a cloud of ashes puffed around her. Shakily she stepped out of the fireplace before anyone could knock her over at their arrival. Eyes streaming, Hermione wiped at her eyes and face and cleared her throat. After readjusting, Hermione finally looked at where she had arrived.

Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

Green flames ignited into the fireplace, and she heard the voices of Dorea and James enter behind her.

"Bloody hell, looks like we've not got much to do this time around, don't you say, mother?"

"Yes, yes," she said distractedly to her son, and walked promptly over to the dozen people working around in the giant room. "Emilia! Where are the crystal drapes?"

Through the corner of her eye, she saw James sidle besides her.

"Do you know what to be ready for now?" he said with obvious amusement.

"This is more extravagant than the Yule Ball," she said in wonder, finally closing her mouth.

"The what?" asked James curiously, but Hermione merely shook her head. She felt a rush of warmth behind her and heard Sirius's voice as he arrived in the fireplace.

"Whaddimiss?" he yawned, standing beside her as well.

"Nothing but the expression of pure wonder," said James loftily.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, and gave James a pointed look.

"I'm going to have to wear a dress, aren't I."

She regretted her words instantly, for Dorea's head snapped towards the three teenagers and she rushed over to them frantically.

"I completely forgot! You need a dress!"

Hermione suppressed a groan and gave a small smile, but Dorea was already reaching inside her purse. Dorea looked back up at Hermione with a jingling pouch in hand. "It's really not quite as formal as you're probably imagining," said Dorea with a grim smile. "It's just something we like to do each year. Nearly every family of nobility throws these kinds of parties during the holidays, but we like to do things a little differently. We've pretty much lost a lot of ties with family members for our political and circumstantial beliefs," she gave a small, fond pat on Hermione's hand, "but in all honesty, I would not throw a party in any other way."

"What is it that you do?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well—" Dorea started enthusiastically, but James quickly stepped in.

"Ah, mother, don't spoil the surprise! Weren't you going to give Hermione something just now?"

Dorea blinked in surprise. "Oh! You're right my dear, these explanations can be told at a more prudent time," she turned to Hermione and handed her a thick leather pouch. "That's for you. There's some wizard money in case you can't find anything in the muggle shops, but I would love it if you bought a regular dress that I'm sure you've worn growing up."

"You—you want me to go to muggle shops? I would think that perhaps dress robes, or—"

"Ah, yes, I can see why you would think that, but this is one of the things I changed about traditional Christmas parties," Dorea gave a mischievous smile. "You know, having more well-rounded people is never a bad thing, especially regarding something so deeply misunderstood." Hermione's brow furrowed at her cryptic words, but was quickly ushered back to the fireplace.

"Sirius," said Dorea, and Sirius looked up. "Would you please accompany Hermione? You know how it isn't safe for young girls walking through the city alone."

"Absolutely, Mrs. Potter," Sirius nodded, and flashed Hermione a grin as he stepped in the fireplace with her.

James watched them with a slightly put-out expression. "I'd like to see this travesty as well, you know. I'm coming with you."

"No you will most certainly not," said James's mother sternly, giving him a harsh look. "I need your help here."

"But—!"

"James."

Giving the two of them a sour look, James acquiesced and followed his mother, grumbling under his breath.

Hermione looked over to Sirius. "So, where exactly are we going?"

Sirius looked down at her and then replied easily, "To London, of course."

xxx

"When's the last time you've been here?" asked Sirius lazily as the two of them walked down a very busy sidewalk. Muggle London was always an exciting place to visit, with shops and stores at every turn. It was very interesting to see the current fashion from the seventies, and Hermione wondered what array of dresses would be at her disposal.

Hermione pondered his question. "I honestly can't remember," she replied with a small smile. "I came here with my mum, I think. It was a while ago."

"You lived in a muggle house, right?" Hermione nodded looked up at Sirius, who was gazing at her eagerly. "What was it like?"

Hermione blinked. "Pardon?"

"You know," he gestured incoherently, "what was it like, living in a muggle house with muggle things, doing things the muggle way? It must have been very interesting, no?"

Hermione laughed a little at his rapt enthusiasm. "I suppose in a wizard's standpoint, yes," she answered, thinking of Arthur Weasley and his infatuation with the muggle lifestyle. "But growing up with it, it was really nothing."

"Tell me something," said Sirius with curiosity. "Anything. Like how you made your breakfasts with muggle devices."

Hermione laughed. "Sirius, I hate to say this but we're not a complete different species," she shook her head, "almost everything we do is the same. We still use pots and pans and soap to clean the dishes."

Sirius grinned and shook his head. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off as ignorant. I really just…I don't know, it fascinates me. Always has. That was probably the first indication to my parents that I was the wrong sort of Black."

Hermione sobered slightly at the mention of Sirius's parents. Had she the ability, she would have loved to hex the pants off his horrid mother and father.

Clearing her throat, she looked up at him deviously. "Well, we do have something called a toaster."

A spark of interest showed in Sirius's eyes. "Toaster?"

"Mhm," Hermione nodded, looking at the street ahead of her with amusement. "It's a metal box with slits that you put bread slices into. It heats up the bread and then pops them out when they're fully toasted."

The grin on Sirius's face could not be wiped out even of Voldemort decided to Apparate in front of him at that moment. "Amazing," he said softly.

Hermione giggled slightly, and Sirius gave her a look. "Don't you dare laugh!" he said in mock anger.

She shook her head, but the smile did not fade. "You are simply too much fun, Sirius."

She did not notice how his gaze lingered on her for a moment, before he ran his hand through his hair and glanced around. "Would you like to try that store?"

Hermione glanced in the direction he was pointing to, and nodded. They approached it slowly, and a bell chimed when the door opened. A woman at the door greeted them, her gaze lingering pointedly at Sirius. He gave her a passing look and walked away, but Hermione noticed the small, coy smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

Hermione looped her arm around Sirius's and dragged him away, causing him to look down at her in surprise.

"Is something wrong?"

"Don't even get me started," Hermione muttered darkly, releasing his arm when they were finally far away from the woman at the door. "Honestly."

"What?" Sirius asked exasperatedly, though he clearly was finding some humor in the situation. Hermione looked up at him sourly.

"Oh, please. As if you don't know."

"I don't, actually," said Sirius blandly as he perused the aisles with her, hands brushing against the fabrics he passed.

Hermione shook her head, and paused beside him to put her hands on her hips. "It is quite appalling when women twice your age ogle you as if you were—were some piece of freshly cut meat!"

Sirius let out a loose laugh. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"I never said it was bothering me," said Hermione quickly, averting her gaze to the clothes hanging on the stands.

Sirius hummed beside her, and replied nonchalantly, "Well, don't worry yourself over it, love. I manage to leave most stores with my innocence in tact, thank you very much."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, and he began to laugh again. "Honestly, Hermione. It doesn't bother me. I don't pay attention to it, and neither should you."

"How often has this been happening then, for you to grow so accustomed to it?" asked Hermione curiosity. "You were just fifteen last week, you know."

Sirius shrugged, not giving her a definitive answer. "Can't blame anyone for appreciating what's pleasing to the eye." Hermione's mouth dropped open at this, and Sirius grinned while shaking his head. "Don't think about this, Hermione. It's nothing. You should be worrying more about what you're wearing to the Christmas party."

At that, her attention was completely diverted, and Hermione let out a helpless groan. "I am absolutely rubbish at shopping for dresses," said Hermione wistfully. "It was never really my top priority when growing up."

"Ah yes, the little bookworm I know you are could never be bothered by things all the other girls fawn over," he noted, a tone of approval tinting his voice, but it could have been her imagination. Suddenly he reached over and picked up a dress by the hanger. "What about this?"

Hermione turned to him and inspected the dress he was holding up for her. "That's actually…not bad," Hermione admitted, and took the dress from him. It was a soft blue dress that reached down to her knees, cut at an angle that was quite stylish. "I think I'll try this one on."

Sirius gave a self-satisfied grin, and stretched. "Well, I think I've met my dress-hunting quota for the day," he announced, earning him a rolling of the eyes. Hermione sighed and continued looking around, politely declining when a saleswoman offered to help her look for something.

Hermione had picked out three other dresses before taking leave to the dressing room, leaving Sirius sitting outside on the soft leather seat. She tried each on and stepped outside slightly to ask him what he thought, and was surprised when he gave it some serious thought and answered her honestly. They were all alright, but nothing that really satisfied her.

"If you could just tell me what people usually wear at this thing, I could narrow the search down," said Hermione with some irritation as she shucked off the creamy dress she had tried on. Through the door, she heard Sirius's lazy reply.

"Love, you don't want to know what the other women wear at this thing. Trust me, you're doing it right so far."

"Right," she muttered, averting her attention to the blue dress. With a sigh she slipped through it, and zipped the side quickly before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

What she saw was…quite nice.

"Well," Hermione breathed, turning to her side a little. "I guess you're the one."

Hermione quickly changed back into her clothes and held the blue dress under her arm as she approached Sirius. He seemed surprised to see her dressed normally again.

"You're not going to show me that one?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Don't want to spoil the surprise." Grin widening, she added, "Plus, I didn't want to risk you losing all your masculinity by badgering you with all these questions regarding female apparel."

He barked out a laugh as they approached the cashier. "Darling, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to make me lose my masculinity."

Hermione paid for the dress deftly and the two finally exited the store. Sirius paused beside her. "Do you mind? I need to use the loo."

"Of course not," she replied, and leaned against the bricks of the building as Sirius reentered the clothing store.

Sighing quietly, Hermione gazed at the walking figures all around, and could not help but realize how…normal everything felt now. For the longest time she did not believe she would be able to truly adjust, to feel like she belonged in this era. But now…

"Don't run so fast, Charlie!"

It was as if ice had slipped through her veins and traveled all throughout her body. Frozen in shock, Hermione could only stare at the figures approaching her.

A little boy, no more than probably three years old, was darting towards the entrance to the shop she had just purchased a dress in. Behind him a slightly older boy followed quickly. Charlie's legs seemed to have moved faster than he could, and he quickly collided into Hermione's shins. She knelt down and helped him up gently, and the older boy touched his shoulder and asked him if he was alright.

A woman with flaming red hair ran to catch up with her children, slightly out of breath when she reached them. "Bill, make sure he doesn't try to run again, I don't want him to get hurt."

"Yes mummy," the older of the two boys replied dutifully, and grabbed little Charlie's hand firmly.

Hermione watched as they approached the door, and without another thought she reached over and held it open for them. The boys rushed inside, and the woman who she knew quite well to be Molly Weasley gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, dear," she said gratefully, giving her a gentle smile. Hermione nodded dumbly, and replied, "No problem," as she disappeared inside the store.

And just like that, she was reminded why she was here in the first place.

Neglecting. She was neglecting her purpose. Dress shopping, Hermione thought bitterly, gazing at the bag in her hand. Dumbledore would be so proud.

She heard the bells of the door chime, and suddenly Sirius was standing beside her.

"You ready to go?" he asked, and Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Opening them again, she looked up at Sirius and smiled.

"Yes. Let's go."

xxx

The short-lived encounter with Molly Weasley and her two elder sons had been a sort of wake-up call for Hermione. The winter holidays seemed to have given her a false sense of security, and it was a painful realization that the only progress she had made after four months of living in 1975 was simply finding one of Voldemort's horcruxes. She had no idea how to destroy it, and certainly had no clue how to move on, and that was alarming.

She considered first to ask to go to Diagon Alley again, for she remembered seeing some slightly useful books in a shop that could help her understand how to destroy a horcrux, though not in nearly enough detail she was sure. But with the party just a day away, she doubted Dorea Potter would be that magnanimous.

Going on her own was out of commission, for there was never a moment she was alone, and her absence would be immediately noticed should she decide to go on her own.

And thus, she was back to square one.

Hermione sat on her bed, frustration building inside of her. What on earth was she expected to do? It was entirely her fault, she knew; she squandered away half of her holidays sipping cocoa and enjoying herself. And once Sirius had arrived, she had not a moment's rest, for he had returned to his lively state and encouraged her to partake in every strange and silly activity he could think of with James, though nearly all of them ended with a stern lecture from Dorea.

At this point, she had to bide her time. After Christmas, perhaps things would get easier.

The night passed quickly, and Christmas Eve had arrived in full steam. The party was set, the gigantic hall that the Potters brought her to now fully prepared for the evening. It seemed that they owned this extravagant hall, and held nearly all their parties and events here like the nobility she knew they were.

A loud rap in the door of the bathroom brought Hermione's attention away from the mirror she was currently seated in front of, and she turned to face the door.

"In a minute," she called, and heard a loud sigh.

"Merlin's pants, Hermione, hurry up!" she heard James say in an exasperated tone. "The guests are already arriving!"

"Alright, alright!" Hermione looked at herself again, hands running through the mass of curls framing her face. She had attempted to tame them down, and managed a slightly less frizzy version of her hair than it usually was. Sighing, she pinned one side and then finally stood, giving a good look at the dress. Sirius truly did have stellar taste.

She ran to the door and took a steadying breath, then turned the knob. James was still there, and when she opened the door his eyes immediately fell on her.

"Holy hippogriff," he was all he managed to say, and reached out to pull down on one of her springy curls, which bounced back up immediately. A grin slid on his face. "Well, well, it looks like Hermy can work a dress."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you know how to even wear a suit."

"That's because he has a certain green-eyed hellcat to impress, am I right, James?" Sirius's voice entered the conversation as she saw him walk out of another bathroom. He turned to look at Hermione and he paused in his stride. His eyes traveled slowly down her, immediately bringing heat to her face. His eyes snapped back up to hers, and he resumed walking towards them.

He gave her a slow grin. "Well hell, I guess I am glad you decided not to show me this in the fitting room. I rather like being pleasantly surprised."

She smiled slightly at his words, but her attention was diverted back to James when he grabbed her arm.

"Yes, yes, you two can stare at each other all you want, as long as it's downstairs. Let's go," James urged, and walked down the large hallway towards the stairs. Hermione glanced up at Sirius.

"What you said before—do you mean that Lily is going to be here?" she inquired.

Sirius nodded. "Oh yes. James has been very excited—you can't tell though, he's trying very hard to be zen—I wouldn't have known if I hadn't seen the guest list that James was reading ever so fondly—"

"Shove it, Sirius," James quipped from in front of them, and Hermione smiled.

"Well either way, I'm glad I'll get to see her. I've missed her these past weeks."

Her eyes wandered over to Sirius, and she could not help but come to the realization that Sirius Black was simply one of those people who could wear a tattered plastic bag and still look ridiculously handsome.

A grin began forming on Sirius's face, though he kept his eyes straight in front of him, and he said, "Keep that up Hermione and I'll start blushing harder than James after he sees Lily in a dress."

Hermione looked away embarrassedly while James merely turned and showed him a very unhappy finger.

The descent down the staircase brought a wave of uplifting music and the cool chill of winter. What was once an empty hall was not a decorated, extravagant display of ice and crystal and silver, and a large ornate tree stood at the very center. She was immediately met by Remus and Peter, who had cleaned up rather nicely as well. Remus looked a little worse for wear, with shadows lingering under his eyes. But what his appearance lacked his enthusiasm made up for, and she reveled in the hearty embrace he gave her when she reached the bottom of the steps.

"You look lovely, Hermione," said Remus with a polite smile, his exuberant energy thinly veiled as Sirius and James clapped him on the shoulders. She knew he was itching to speak with his best friends, so Hermione grinned in reply and asked him if he knew if Lily had arrived yet.

"Yes, I think I saw her near the tree," he answered and Hermione nodded, leaving the Marauders to their devices. Giving Peter a friendly wave for good measure, she made her way through the massive hall.

Sirius had not been exaggerating when he mentioned the bizarre getup everyone at this party would be in. Dorea Potter's policy, it seemed, was a muggle-themed party; or at least, the attire was. And so all the witches and wizards were required to dress in muggle dresses and muggle tuxedos, and while the men had a slightly easier task at hand, it was the women that wore the most…interesting variety of clothes.

Hermione spotted a flash of red hair and made a beeline for it. Lily was wearing a modest and snug green dress, and she turned her head to see Hermione approaching her. A dazzling smile spread on her face as she met Hermione half way.

"And here I thought I wouldn't see you until the beginning of term," said Lily dryly.

Hermione shrugged, "Sorry to disappoint."

Grinning, Lily looped her arm through Hermione's. "Where's that oaf of a brother of yours? I'm surprised he hasn't sought me out and sung a sonnet yet."

Hermione prevented the smile from stretching too widely on her lips, and gave another shrug. "He's with Sirius and the others. I'm sure you'll see him eventually."

Lily glanced at her, and said a little quickly, "Well it's not like I'm waiting for it, you know; I'm just surprised, is all. He pulls some kind of stunt every year during this party, each of which earns him a well-deserved bloody nose."

"I wouldn't say every year, Evans," a voice sauntered towards them, and Lily turned to see James walking towards her.

Her eyebrows skyrocketed. "My, my. Looks like you finally figured out how to wear that thing."

"It was bound to happen eventually," he said easily. The music change, and there was an immediate shift in atmosphere as several dozen people headed to the dance floor. "Would you accompany me with the first dance?"

"I'm not sure. Last time you stepped on all my toes," said Lily bluntly.

"I've had lessons since," said James mildly. "I would be very happy if you gave me the first dance."

He held out his hand, and Hermione had to give him credit where it was due. He was much more like his normal self, as he was around her and the rest of the Marauders. He was not flaunting his attraction to her, and Lily seemed to notice the slightly more serious demeanor. With an almost shy smile, she placed her hand in his.

Hermione watched as the two walked to the floor and danced suavely. James certainly had not been lying about having lessons.

"Young love is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

Hermione turned to the voice, and her eyes rounded at the woman who stood beside her. She held out her hand kindly. "I never got to properly ask you for your name that day," the red-headed woman said with a smile. "I'm Molly Weasley."

"Hermione Granger," replied Hermione, slightly dazed as she shook the woman's hand. She should have known that the Weasleys would be attending this party, especially if it was muggle-themed. "Your children were very adorable when I saw them earlier."

"I'd say," she said with a grin, and Hermione did not realize just how truly young this Molly was. Her face was not marred by years of resilient hard work, raising her children and defending them against the dark forces surrounding her family. She was younger, livelier. It was heartbreaking. "I've got another on the way. My husband and I are thinking of calling him Percy."

"That's a wonderful name," she smiled.

"Come, let me introduce you to my husband—Arthur! Arthur, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

The walked up a man wearing mismatched pants and a blazer with similar flaming red hair. He turned around and gave Hermione a genuine smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Arthur kindly. "Dorea was just telling us all about you a few minutes ago!"

"Did she," said Hermione nervously, wondering what she might have told them.

"Oh, yes, yes! Heard you were muggleborn, and I must say I was pleased to hear so. Tell me, do you know how ecksalators work?"

"Er…"

"Honey, I doubt she knows these things, even for a muggleborn," said Molly gently. Her face instantly transformed into perplexity as she saw something in the distance. "Charlie! That's not food! Put that down!"

With a quick apology the two Weasleys parted, leaving Hermione alone in the grandeur hall.

Hermione began blinking rapidly. Overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed.

Hermione rushed towards an empty chair and sat down, breathing in deeply through her nose as she attempted to clear her thoughts. Meeting people she knew from her own time was inevitable, and definitely unavoidable. She knew it was going to happen. So why did this hurt so much?

The answer was so simple, Hermione nearly chuckled. Of course she was having difficulty seeing the two people she considered as close as her own family. For six years she had gotten to know the Weasleys, and even more, their children. To know that Ron was not going to be born for another six years was…a lot to grapple with.

She would never be their friend. A kind aunt maybe. But nothing like before.

"I can't say I'm surprised," a voice drawled, and Hermione looked up to see Sirius standing before her.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry."

"What for, love? For sitting?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It just seems to be the right thing to say at any occasion."

Sirius took a seat beside her, staring off into the distance. "You think too hard, love," he said finally. Hermione glanced at him. "Just enjoy the evening while you can. It only happens once a year."

Hermione looked away, and saw Molly holding up her youngest son in her arms with a smile. Her eyes wandered over to Remus and Peter, who were both chatting with several other people, and then finally to James and Lily, who were surprisingly still dancing.

Hermione looked at Sirius suddenly. "Would you like to dance?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "With you?"

Hermione gave him a look, and he grinned. "Why not? Just as long as you don't step on me with those heels of death you've got on there."

Hermione looked down in dismay. "It's barely an inch!"

He took her hand and guided her to the dance floor, a devilish look passing on his face. "Can't say I've heard that one before."

Hermione glowered at his remark and placed her hand on his shoulder. They swayed with the music, and Hermione smiled up at him. "Should I be surprised that you're good at this?"

"Absolutely not," said Sirius firmly. "You'll learn soon enough that being born in aristocracy brings a certain level of well-roundedness, dancing being one of them."

"Silly me for forgetting," said Hermione dryly. "And what else is there that you're good at?"

A smirk flitted across his face. "You'll just have to keep guessing." He sighed slightly, and looked up. "I do enjoy this song."

"You know what it is?" said Hermione with surprise. To be honest, she was amazed that whoever made the song selection this evening even knew which songs were currently popular in the muggle world.

"I wasn't called a rebel back home for nothing, you know," said Sirius wryly. "I would be dishonoring my reputation as a leather jacket-wearing miscreant if I couldn't recognize Bohemian Rhapsody when I heard it."

"Aren't you full of surprises," said Hermione with a small smile.

"Get to know me, love, and you might find something you like."

The song ended and Hermione stepped away. The remainder of the evening was spent eating the delicious food served in the dining hall and chatting amiably with her new friends.

And for a little while, she allowed herself to forget.

xxx

"The presents should already be under the tree…we could always…"

"No." Sirius and Hermione said simultaneously as they stepped out of the fireplace and back into the living room of the Potter residence.

"I'm going straight to sleep," said Hermione, taking note of the time. Two o'clock in the morning.

"That sounds like a plan," mumbled Sirius, trailing behind her as she forced her way up the stairs.

Hermione trudged to her room and threw her shoes on the floor. With a last shred of strength, she slipped out of her dress and threw an oversized shirt over her head. She was just reaching for her pajamas when the door knocked.

"Hermione, you left this on the bathroom," said Sirius as he held out a small purse to her.

Hermione gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem." He flashed a grin, and his eyes flickered down. "Put on some clothes, you silly—"

His words died on his lips, his eyes staring at her leg. Hermione frowned.

"What?"

Her eyes flickered to his, and then to her legs…and then she knew.

Oh god.

Sirius looked up at her, eyes swirling with an unreadable emotion. His face was a myriad of confusion and recognition, and suddenly Hermione felt trapped.

"That scar," he said quietly. "I know that scar. On your knee."

Hermione turned away and quickly shrugged into her pajamas. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said dismissively. "Everyone has scars."

"Not ones like that."

"I'm tired, Sirius," said Hermione, and turned to him slowly. "Please, I need to get some sleep."

"Why are you avoiding it?" Hermione watched him as he drew closer to her. "Let me see it again."

"No." Hermione turned to her bed.

"Let me see it, Hermione."

"No, Sirius! Go to sleep, you're very tired," she was about to pull her covers back when Sirius grabbed her arm and whirled her around, causing Hermione to gasp.

"You know!" he said incredulously. "You know, and you know I recognize it. I recognize you." He shook his head, and narrowed his eyes. "I didn't believe it at first when I saw you. You looked so much like her. And now I know why."

For the first time in a long time, fear was burrowing in her heart. Her eyes were wide as she stared into grey eyes, her heart thundering under her chest.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Was it so bad that he knew?

Her mind automatically replied to the distant thought. He's not ready to know yet.

But it was too late. She had slipped, and by something she did not even think Sirius would remember. And now, she did not know what to do.

She tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was not having any of it. Her wand was on her dresser, much too far away for her to try anything. Not that attacking Sirius Black was something she ever wanted to do.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Despair was filling inside of her, and she spoke against her better judgment. "Please," she whispered to him desperately. "Please."

His eyes narrowed, but paused when James showed up at the door. "Why are you two still awake?" asked James blearily. He looked at Sirius and Hermione, frowning. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione looked up at him then, her eyes pleading with his. He stared at her for a long moment, before slowly releasing her arm and stepping back from her.

"Just saying goodnight to Hermione," said Sirius impassively, and headed to the door. James shrugged and left, and Sirius placed his hand on her door before turning around to meet her in the eyes.

"Tomorrow, you're going to tell me who you are," he said softly. "And if not, then that's okay. I have the next two years to find out."

He closed the door behind him, and never before had Hermione felt more frightened.

If one thing fixes, another thing breaks.

xxx

Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and everyone who enjoys this story--it means a lot! Sorry this is monstrously late. Ignore errors.
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sands of Destiny