One Hundred and Sixty Nine

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1124404.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Character: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, Alastor “Mad-Eye”
Moody
Additional Tags: Romance, Humor, Adventure, Fix-It, Time Turner, Ridiculous Marauding
Reminiscences, 1981, House of Black
Collections: 169_verse, I Can’t Have 100+ Tabs Open., MWPRereads, Top tier HP
fics, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ft. Hermione, Top tier
Sirius Black/Hermione Granger, the one where Hermione dates one of
the Black brothers
Stats: Published: 2014-01-07 Completed: 2022-04-18 Chapters: 59/59 Words:
311272

One Hundred and Sixty Nine

by Soupy_George

Summary

It was no accident. She was Hermione Granger - as if she'd do anything this insane without
the proper research and reference charts. Arriving on the 14th of May 1981, She had given
herself 169 days. An ample amount of time to commit murder if one had a strict schedule,
the correct notes and the help of one possibly reluctant, estranged heir.
 Hell of a Season

20th February 2001

Hermione Granger was packing; she had been packing for weeks. With a glance at the parchment
in her hand, she picked up a small golden cup from her desk, nodded and put it into her shoulder
bag. Then snatching her quill from the inkwell, she scratched a mark on the scribbled list she held.

Her usually immaculate office was almost unrecognisable – judging from the towering piles of
books on her desk and the stacks of boxes and personal effects that covered the floor in one corner,
it looked more like Ron's study than her own. She looked back at the list.

'Diary …' she murmured, tapping the feathered end of the quill against the parchment as she
scanned the teetering book tower that covered most of her desk. Locating the small black-bound
book, she threw it into the satchel and marked the list once again.

She heard the back door slam downstairs. Muttering 'Damn it' under her breath, she pulled her
wand from her jeans pocket and flicked it: the cupboard on the opposite wall sprang open and the
hinges of her old Hogwarts trunk creaked a little as the lid opened.

'I'm home!' Ron's voice called.

Another flick of her wand and all her books, boxes, notes and miscellany flew towards the
cupboard, ordering themselves as they began to land in the trunk.

She pulled the elastic band from her unruly hair, shaking her head to untrap the curls from their
ponytail prison. She was meant to be having a day off, and tied-back hair was an all-too-obvious
indicator to Ron that she had been working; she didn't want to raise his suspicions. Her trunk
closed with a thump and the office was comfortably tidy once again. She shut the door behind her
and started down the stairs.

'I decided to close up for the day because the weather is so terrible, Diagon Alley was deserted.'
Ron's voice calling up the stairs suddenly lowered as she came into view. 'Not that I blame them,'
he went on, 'it's bloody freezing out there.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, thinking that Ron really seemed chirpy this afternoon - she had almost
forgotten he possessed such an emotion. 'I've been watching the children from next door chasing
each other around in the snow all afternoon,' she added, matching his upbeat tone.

As Ron kicked off his snowy boots and hung his cloak on its peg, Hermione kissed him on the
cheek and moved into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, 'Are you hungry?' Food would
certainly help to keep him in his unusually cheerful frame of mind. Maybe they could have a
proper conversation.

He followed her into the brightly decorated kitchen and sat himself at the small table.

'Sure, thanks,' he said, his face falling back into the familiar lines of worry. Maybe not.

Once he had a bacon sandwich in front of him she asked, 'Did you see your Mum today?' Perhaps
Mrs Weasley was a little better and it had briefly elevated Ron's mood.

'Nah,' Ron said 'I'm gonna go round tonight and see them.' He picked up the sandwich and took a
bite, his eyes downcast. 'What did you do today?' he asked mechanically.
It was as though he was forcing himself to be polite. Hermione breathed an internal resigned sigh;
she really shouldn't get her hopes up so easily. 'Ginny came round this morning - she's still pretty
down, Harry's having real trouble at the Ministry.' She said.

'I know, I had lunch with him yesterday. He's wrecked.'

Hermione watched sadly as he chomped on his sandwich. Gone was the boy she had fallen in love
with; sometimes she saw him shining through, but it was only ever for a moment, a brief spark, and
then it vanished as quickly as it had come. They were living a charade. Both of them knew it, but
neither acknowledged it.

In the three years since the war, the stress of rebuilding had driven the two of them in opposite
directions. Ron had taken to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the joke supply shop that his twin
brothers Fred and George had opened. After Fred had fallen during the final battle, George was
really not capable of dealing with the place and all its reminders of his lost brother. Quite
understandable of course.

Ron had shouldered the responsibility of keeping it running very well. The twins' extensive notes
were kept in the flat above the shop and he steadily worked his way through them, adding new
products to the inventory of the business. He wanted it to be as successful as it had been before the
loss of Fred, ready for the day George could cope again.

That day was looking less and less likely as time went on. On the rare occasions that he did show
up, George would barely manage an hour before being set off by something, and would either
break down, or shout at Ron for not doing things the way Fred would. This would be followed by
him storming from the shop and drowning himself in the nearest alcoholic drink he could find. In
fact, George spent most of his time soaking away his troubles in whichever inn was closest, which
troubled Ron very much. He knew his brother had the right to grieve but it seemed to be moving
from grief to selfishness in his opinion.

Mrs Weasley was in a similar state, and although she did not require a shot of Firewhisky to get her
out of bed in the mornings, she might as well have. She functioned, but that was it. Cook, clean,
sleep was about all she managed on a daily basis. It had begun because of the loss of Fred, but with
George's steady decline she became worse; her grandchildren brought her some happiness when
Bill or Percy came by, but it was always fleeting.

Adding to Molly's worries, her daughter Ginny – who had married Harry the previous summer –
was struggling with married life. It was never easy when a couple married young but Ginny spent
more time at the family home than at her own, mainly because her husband was never home.

While Harry had been in Auror training, Ginny had managed to handle the limited free time they
had together, and Harry's almost-dismissal of her. She stuggled through those years, thinking that
once he was qualified and able to help properly his desire to make up for the events - things he saw
as mistakes he'd made - during the war, would diminish.

Ginny had been wrong. Harry was at the Ministry constantly, and when he came home he would
sit up writing list after list of every wrong decision he'd made and its consequences. Harry's anger
at himself also heaped more stress onto Mrs Weasley. When he was forced into their company by
Ginny, he struggled to look Molly or Arthur in the eye. It was almost like losing another son.

Ron was the only one he would really talk to. Their friendship was not as strong as it had been at
Hogwarts, but for some reason Harry believed Ron didn't blame him for any of his "mistakes".
Why he wouldn't accept that from anyone else was a mystery.
Then of course there was the fame that came with defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all
time. At heart, Harry believed he had failed at his task – that it had taken too many lives and too
much time to conquer Riddle – yet he was forced to smile and act proud of his achievements for
the wizarding public, all the while dwelling on everyone that had been killed because he had been
too slow.

Over the last few years, Ron had found himself in a difficult role: the peacemaker, the motivator,
the only one with enough time to deal with all of these problems. His father was head of the
Muggle Relations Department - a very time consuming position, considering what the muggles had
witnessed during the war. Ron's older brothers Bill and Percy both had little children and full-time
jobs, and Charlie was too far away to be of any real use. Ron – formerly the least emotionally-
aware 15-year old Hermione had ever met – was now the patchy spellotape holding the whole
extended Weasley family together, and the effort had drained all of his enthusiasm for anything
else.

Hermione on the other hand had thrown herself into her work at the Ministry. With her status after
the war, she'd basically had her pick of any department, but there was only one thing she could
have ever imagined herself doing with her life: the Department for the Regulation and Control of
Magical Creatures.

There was a whole generation of werewolves bitten by Fenrir Greyback during the war, children
who needed to be protected and educated so they wouldn't follow in their sire's footsteps. There
were currently six werewolves at Hogwarts – all of course given Wolfsbane Potion; Hermione had
almost singlehandedly pushed through the law that allowed them to attend, though her close
friendship with the Minister certainly helped. Shacklebolt was a very useful person to have on your
side. She really enjoyed her work, and was glad to be able to make a difference in these children's
lives - she just wished they didn't need her to.

Ron and Hermione's romantic relationship had suffered because of their different ways of coping.
Times were tough, but she didn't mind in the long run - she knew that once they got through it, Ron
would be back to himself and they could pick up where they had left off. She was determined to
stick by him; she was happy to be his friend until he was ready for more again. Well, that's what
she had thought in the beginning anyway. But as the years had passed and nothing seemed to get
better, she began to wonder if she would ever get him back.

She had almost lost hope of having the boyfriend Ron back, but when the friend version began to
slip away too, she had doubled her time spent on her research. What had seemed like a mad idea
when it crossed her mind three years ago was now a reality. She hadn't shared it with anyone. All
her friends were so wound up in their own dilemmas she didn't think they would listen anyway.
She was going to cut the cause of all the trouble off at the root - and she was nearly ready.

14 th May 2001

It was four months since Ron had come home fleetingly cheerful on that snowy afternoon, four
months of continued research, list-making, and covert packing. Hermione felt guilty for all the
times she'd swept her work away from Ron's depressedly unobservant gaze, but this morning she
was spectacularly excited. She was finally prepared. She was leaving today.

She really didn't know if she should have told Ron or not - as cowardly as it made her feel, she
didn't want to have to say a proper goodbye. If she told him the truth he'd just worry, and what was
the point in that? Well, that was what she told herself anyway. She'd told him that she needed to
visit a laboratory in Istanbul for her private research (she'd had to come up with "research" that
would sufficiently bore him to death so there wouldn't be too many difficult questions, so Ron
thought she was working on potions to prevent the effects of the Imperious curse) and that she
would be gone for a week. Thankfully he had accepted this without blinking an eye, wished her
luck, and left for work as usual.

With her fully packed bags beside her in the hallway, she checked her list for the hundredth time.

'Right,' she said aloud, 'stop procrastinating'.

Her Hogwarts trunk had been transfigured to look like a set of muggle luggage - cream leather with
navy blue edging and large gold buckles, fashionable in the early eighties. She had dressed in very
fitted jeans that had belonged to her mother at university – they were so faded they looked almost
white, and a lot higher waisted than she was used to - and compensated for that tightness with an
overly large peach shirt and belt also courtesy of her mother's old wardrobe. Looking at her
reflection in the long mirror at the end of the hall she laughed under her breath - At least my hair
will fit in!

With a disillusionment charm, she and her luggage vanished from the mirror. Taking one more
long look around the flat she and Ron had shared since they left school, Hermione stepped outside
and locked the back door behind her with a tap of her wand, then apparated to the point in London
she had decided on – a small alley just down from the Leaky Cauldron.

She pulled the Timeturner from her handbag. It was so illegal that even with who she was –
Hermione Granger, one of the Famous Three, friend of the Minister for Magic and all round do-
gooder – she would still end up in Azkaban if this was found in her possession. It had taken three
years of research, many tests and trials and different combinations of ingredients before she had
discovered the key – it was the sand.

The sand was made from specific minerals that when all forced together in the pressured
environment allowed the possessor to move through time. Her one however, was even more
special. Her modifications meant that one turn equaled one year instead of one hour, in either
direction, future or past. There was a limit to its stability; a quarter of a century was as much as it
could cope with and still carry the hitch-hiker safely. Conveniently, that was enough.

She checked the surrounding area - deserted. She looped the chain around her neck and gripped her
luggage tightly, then began to turn the little bronze hourglass backwards in her hand. One, two,
three ... eighteen, nineteen, twenty. She held her breath.

Sporadic flashes of light and dark engulfed her, the shape of the dustbins in the alley next to her
blurred, the air itself seemed to swirl around her, what sounded like voices were roaring in her ears.
It seemed to go on forever, longer than any other time she had used such a device. She began to
panic; indistinct figures were rushing past her, in and out of focus, she could barely draw breath –

And then it stopped.

The rumbling of the road at the end of the alleyway seemed quiet to her ears after the colourful
sonorous roaring. She steadied herself on her pile of luggage, slightly woozy after the
disorientating blur. The cars passing the small gap of the alley mouth, were old models that looked
brand new, the business frontages she could see across the busy road were different … it had
worked – she had done it!

A/N: Chapter title taken from a brilliant and fitting tune by The Black Keys.
 Bandit by Necessity
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

14th May 1981

Hermione lifted the disillusionment charm and pulled her luggage to the end of the alley. She
stopped there, looking around. The street was not so different – record shops, hamburger bars, and
clothing stores lined the streets. Her eye was caught by a florescent pink sign that proclaimed
'Cassette players – the latest range, see inside!' in the window display of an electronic goods
retailer across the road.

Noticing the determined muggles going about their morning commute on foot, Hermione looked
down at her outfit. At least I got the clothes right, she thought. Her heart was still pumping
frantically and she hoped she could pass off her anxious expression as the face of someone who
just didn't want to be on her way to work, rather than a jumpy time traveller.

Changing her mind about pulling the luggage along the busy street, she opened her top case and
pulled out her bag. She hastily shrank the assortment of cases and put them inside the shoulder bag.
Steeling herself, she left the alleyway.

She was surprised that she really did fit in – as she was swallowed into the stream of briefcased
coffee drinkers, no one paid her a second glance. But then, Londoners weren't known for their
friendliness. She stopped as she passed a news agents, where banner headlines blared out at her
from the wire display racks: 'POPE SHOT! ... Mehmet Ali Agca ... Catholics out for blood.'
Realising this was absolute proof she was in the right time, she continued on.

The Leaky Cauldron was just ahead, but that was not her destination. It was important for her plan
that she not be known to wizards yet. Picking up speed, she passed the dingy little pub and rounded
a corner, moving quickly through the dreary weekday morning expressions. After four more
blocks she reached the hotel, a grand old building with a short flight of wide steps leading up to
large doors edged in gold.

She kept walking until she reached a phone box, one still there in her time. It looked almost the
same – although perhaps it was slightly less covered in graffiti now. She pulled her notes from her
pocketbook; the phone number for the hotel had been constant since the building was refurbished
in the early seventies.

Dialling the number, she enquired about a room for two nights, explaining that her flight had been
cancelled to account for the short notice. The snooty voice at the other end put her on hold – she
listened to a few bars of an electronic version of Dancing Queen – before asking if a suite would be
suitable, as it was all they had available.

Hermione thanked the snooty receptionist and mentioned that her driver insisted they were nearly
there. She hung up the receiver, removed her luggage from her shoulder bag and un-shrunk it. She
waited ten minutes crammed in the phone box with her full size luggage then, extracting herself
with difficulty, she crossed the road and waited with her bags for the concierge to arrive.

'Madam!' a sandy haired youth wearing a white uniform shirt, black waistcoat, and a stricken
expression was hurrying down the steps toward her almost immediately – horrified when he
realised she was standing there. 'I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting. Please go inside. I will
bring these up.'

The lobby of the hotel was spectacular, from the thick carpet underfoot and shiny marble counters
to the elaborate golden-framed mirrors reflecting the soft light from an oversized chandelier that
hung from the ceiling. She smiled inwardly; she was not going to have this mission be as
uncomfortable as the last one.

Reaching the counter she smiled at the man behind it. 'May I help you?' He asked, chin held high,
looking down the length of his not very petite nose at her. It was the same snooty voiced man she
had spoken with on the phone – unless they all sounded the same here, which she had to admit was
possible. His wavy dark hair was combed neatly away from his forehead and he wore an
impeccable black suit – he was obviously above the lowly waistcoat-wearing suitcase collector on
the hotel staffers food chain, and well aware of it.

'I called from the car,' Hermione said, doing her best to imitate the man's manner. 'You have a suite
for me?'

She riffled in her bag and retrieved her purse. Handing over her credit card, she said with a small
smile, 'I'm very tired - are we able to get this organised quickly?'

'Of course, madam,' he said, taking the shiny silver card, a much more approving lilt to his voice
now that she had proven she wasn't just some big-haired street urchin. In the world of
accommodation service employees, anyone who possessed a credit card was a valuable functioning
member of society.

As Hermione began to fill in the check-in form on the little clipboard he handed her, the snooty
man put her card onto the imprint machine. She didn't let her smile waver, but she was nervous.
Muggle fraud wasn't that big a deal compared to a modified Timeturner, but it would be an
inconvenience to have to find another way around this problem. There was the sharp sliding and
snapping as he moved the handle of the small machine over carbon paper. Her nerves vanished as
he said, 'That's all in order madam. Henry will escort you to your room.' He gestured to the anxious
porter she had met outside, who was waiting next to the lifts with a case in each hand and the third
under his arm.

'Thank you,' she said, pushing the clipboard toward him and accepting her card back.

Once out of the lift and up a short flight of stairs, Henry the porter unlocked the door of her suite.
She had to hide her pleasure for her posh reputation's sake, but it was lovely. Sofa, chairs and
coffee table were arranged in the main space, with a kitchenette off to one side and a small dining
table in between. Directly opposite the door to the corridor there were French doors onto a small
iron-railed balcony that looked over part of the city. Off the sitting room was the bedroom and en-
suite, the former containing a bed so wide she could have slept comfortably on it horizontally.

Henry the porter put her luggage in front of the wardrobe in the bedroom and wished her a pleasant
stay, before leaving her alone.

She had a sudden pang of guilt. This was not a holiday. She was on a schedule. Today was the 14th
of May. That was only 169 days! The task ahead began to overwhelm her: What if she failed?
What if she changed the wrong thing? What if she made everything worse? No, she told herself
firmly, if she thought like that she was sure to fail. 169 days was a long time to be without Ron and
Harry and Ginny, but it was for the best. The greater good even. The hardest part was going to be
watching people die. That's why she had chosen May to arrive; most of the Order deaths occurred
last year and she couldn't risk keeping people alive that weren't meant to be. No, her mission was to
kill not to save. With that highly unappealing thought, she decided a walk would clear her head;
grabbing her bag and room key, she left the hotel.

After wandering the streets of nineteen-eighties London for a while she found herself thinking of
Sirius Black - she needed to find him, as her whole plan would be far more difficult without his
help. She hoped she would be able convince him, though she was still unsure of the best approach.
A woman you don't know blurting out that she's from the future is not a woman most people would
help – unless it was to the nearest psychiatric facility.

As she looked around she realised why he had popped into head: all the young men she saw had a
similar look about them, with shaggy hair, leather jackets and boots, smoking and sauntering. Not
that the Sirius she'd known had been like that really, but in all the pictures she had seen from Harry,
that was how Sirius came across. Leather and long hair.

She smirked – that, she thought, would be exactly how the Sirius she'd known would have wanted
to be remembered.

16th May

Two days after her arrival Hermione was walking along Hogsmeade high street. It felt so strange to
be there – she hadn't visited that often since the end of the war, and it still reminded her of that
night, the last night of the war. It was the same time of year, the same smells and sounds, although
the raucous laughter echoing from inside the Three Broomsticks as she passed the bar certainly
helped to dispel thoughts of that night. Seeing the sun disappear over the hilltops, Hermione
quickened her pace. She was anxious to get this meeting over.

As she started up the path that led to Hogwarts she was running through the explanation over and
over again in her head, to make sure she wouldn't leave anything out. When she reached the gates
she tapped them as Dumbledore had advised in his letter. Then she waited, trying to clear her mind,
concentrating as hard as she could on forcing the memory she needed to hide to the back – as far as
it would go.

After ten minutes of waiting with her mind so focused, she was startled by the voice of Albus
Dumbledore, 'Miss Granger I presume?'

He stood there on the other side of the still-locked gates, looking the same as ever – long silver
beard and hair rippling slightly in the evening breeze, dressed in light blue robes covered in little
silver moons, and on his head, a matching hat.

'Hello Professor,' she said quickly, 'it's a pleasure to, er ... meet you ... and please, call me
Hermione'.

'Very well Hermione, I'm sure you will understand that in the current climate I am hesitant to allow
unknown witches and wizards into my school.'

'Of course.' said Hermione. She wondered why he had invited her to come in the first place if he
wasn't going to let her in. She had sent him an owl requesting a meeting, and he had had been the
one to suggest she come to Hogwarts.

'Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the pub down in the village instead?'

'Um, sure' Hermione said, feeling a little put out. Why hadn't he just suggested they meet at the pub
in the first place … was he being deliberately annoying?

As Dumbledore stepped through the gates as though they were naught but smoke, he looked down
at her. 'Have I offended you, my dear?'
'No Professor, it's just ... no, never mind' she finished, a little embarrassed. It had taken her by
surprise to be treated as a dangerous stranger by her old headmaster. But, she thought, she had been
foolish not to expect it.

'Very good,' said Dumbledore smiling and whistling quietly he lead the way back down the path to
Hogsmeade.

The temperature was dropping quickly as the sky became darker during their walk back to the
village; although it was May, the Scottish highlands were not famous for their balmy evenings.

The High Street was quite empty now – it was after nine in the evening – but the Three
Broomsticks was still doing a roaring trade. The sound of laughter and voices drew Hermione and
her companion toward the entrance.

As Dumbledore reached to pull open the door, the little diamond-patterned leadlight window in the
middle of it was obscured from the inside, then the door swung open quite suddenly, and a man
with dirty gingery hair and a long overcoat was backing quickly away from the pub followed by an
angry female voice –

'You know the rules Fletcher! How many times have I told you? You come in my pub to spend, not
to sell your wares!'

'Of C-course, of course Rosie, I'm sorry!' stuttered Fletcher as he continued to back away, not
realising he had an audience.

Dumbledore's moustache was twitching and Hermione had to look away to hide her smile as she
recognised a young Mundungus receiving this tongue lashing.

'And DON'T call me Rosie!' came the woman's voice, sounding even angrier.

Muttering about over-sensitive women and not really hurting anyone, Mundungus Fletcher turned
around only to notice Dumbledore's presence.

''Ere Professor- 'Ow are you this evenin'?' he asked in what he clearly thought was a tone of
innocence.

'Magnificent Mundungus, thank you for asking. You had best be on your way. I wouldn't want to
be on the wrong side of Rosmerta's temper.'

'Right you are Professor, right you are.' Mundungus agreed, nodding distractedly. With a look over
his shoulder at the door to the pub, he spun on the spot and vanished with a crack.

Dumbledore chuckled as he moved to open the door again, ushering Hermione through with a
sweep of his hand.

Hermione entered the warm smoky room and found that very little had changed in the twenty
intervening years: the gleaming wooden bar, the rows of bottles behind it the pictures on the walls,
even the clientele still looked the same. It did something to settle her nerves, to be in such a
familiar setting.

She continued to concentrate on her memories as she took in her surroundings, feeling sure that
Dumbledore would use legilimency against her once she told him of her true identity.

Dumbledore ordered their drinks and they wound their way through the crowded pub, the professor
leading the way through the tables with a practiced ease. He was greeted by a few of the patrons
before he reached the table, but no one spoke to Hermione. As they sat Dumbledore leaned
forward and said conspiratorially, 'If anyone inquires, the purpose of our meeting is my, once
again, vacant Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position.'

'Oh, er... Right' Hermione said, thinking he couldn't have thought of a better cover story. Excepting
her age, she could play the part of believable candidate – she certainly had enough knowledge and
experiences to answer questions in a convincing way.

'So, what is the real reason for your contacting me?'

'Well, as I've told you my name is Hermione Granger,' she began. 'Professor, I'm a muggleborn. I
grew up in Kensington in London. Both my parents are dentists and I was born on the 19th of
September 1979.' She bit the inside of her lip nervously as she waited for his response – being
direct was the best course of action when it came to Dumbledore, but she was also afraid he would
dismiss her as crazy.

'As you look to have more years than a toddler,' Dumbledore said cautiously, 'I'm going to assume
you're about to tell me you have travelled in time?' His expression was blank, his eyes travelling
over her face.

'Yes,' said Hermione simply, looking him directly in the eye, filling her mind with memories of
Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron, welcoming feasts with Dumbledore standing on the raised platform
in front of the house tables. He only held her gaze for a moment before looking away.

'Ah – Rosmerta,' he said with a smile. 'Thank you very much.'

While her pub may not have changed since Hermione's last visit, the landlady certainly had, or
would anyway. Hermione smirked as she thought of how Ron would react if he could see this
twenty year younger Rosmerta.

'Here you are Professor, Oak Matured Mead. I've tinkered with the old man's recipe, I'd love to
have your opinion on the changes,' she said sweetly with a wide smile.

'Of course, my dear - you're enjoying running the place then?' Dumbledore queried, his eyes
twinkling.

'Oh yes!' she said, 'It's brilliant.' Smile still firmly in place, she turned to Hermione 'Here's your
Redcurrant Rum, Miss. Hope you enjoy it,' and with a little dip of her head at the pair she was
gone.

'Her business booms,' Hermione said conversationally. 'The Three Broomsticks is still the most
popular pub in Hogsmeade in 2001.'

'She's very good at her job.' Dumbledore nodded. 'So, how did you achieve this remarkable feat
Hermione? As far as I am aware it is only possible to manipulate your place in time by a day –
where did you get this amazing technology?'

'Er ...' said Hermione. Taken aback by this sudden return to topic, and his tone that implied belief.
She knew Dumbledore liked to trust people, but this was to the point of insanity. 'I modified a
Timeturner. It's very illegal sir, I don't really want to go into detail. I'm worried it will give you a
reason to arrest me.' Dumbledore looked surprised at her answer. She pressed on, 'The reason I
wanted to talk to you, Professor, is I need your help. I know how to bring Voldemort down.'

The headmaster's face was calm but he was staring at her so intently she felt as though he was
gazing through her. She did not look away. 'He has made Horcruxes, four of them I believe at this
point in time. And I know where they are.'

'Really?' He asked silver eyebrows raised, he didn't sound so believing now … almost, humouring.
'Why would you take on such a mission? Is he still powerful in your time?

'No.' said Hermione, 'My best friend, Harry, defeated him in 1998, I helped him. That's how I know
the locations of the Horcruxes. But so many people were lost – so many lives ruined. I can change
that. With your help.'

Dumbledore finally broke eye contact, quietly sipping his mead for a few moments, then locking
her in that light blue gaze again. 'How can you prove it to me? You understand my reservations - it
is unwise to trust in these troubled times.'

'Yes, Professor.' She fished in her bag, withdrawing a glass vial full of swirling misty memory.
'These will help.'

She passed it across the table to him, but he picked it up without examining it and tucked it into his
robes. 'Very well, Hermione. Thank you.' He drained the last of his mead and pushed back his
chair, then as if hit by a sudden thought, 'This "Harry" you mentioned?'

'Yes sir, it's Harry Potter, son of Lily and James. The prophecy was fulfilled.'

Dumbledore looked grave.

'Professor, there is another person who will be of great use during this quest. I was wondering if
you could tell me where to find Sirius Black?'

He merely chuckled. 'Absolutely not, my dear. I cannot give up the whereabouts of an Auror to
someone I do not know, especially someone who believes they have travelled in time.' He stood,
giving her a searching look. 'I will be in contact if your memories corroborateyour tale. But it is
getting very late and I'm a busy man. Thank you for your time.' He turned and walked away,
leaving a disgruntled but not altogether surprised Hermione in his wake.

After her confusing and somewhat disappointing conversation with Dumbledore, Hermione turned
her attention to the next part of her plan. Since Dumbledore wouldn't tell her where to find Sirius –
not that she could blame him – it left her in a bit of a pickle. She needed him, or rather his family,
to get her hands on Slytherins locket, Hufflepuffs cup and Riddle's diary. He was also talented and
brave which would be a huge help to her on this dangerous mission – if she could convince him
she wasn't mad.

She knew from his and Remus' reminiscences during her 5th year summer visit at Grimmauld
place, that they used to frequent wizarding pubs up and down the country most nights in an attempt
to avoid the bachelor-style cuisine that was available to them at their respective homes. Apparently
Lily had cut them off at three meals a week at the Potter residence in the early days of her
marriage, as it never ended with dinner and one day would roll into the next until the two men
were basically living there. Hermione smiled as she remembered the two men giggling like little
boys at each other's impressions of a pregnant Lily laying down the law: "I only signed on for one
husband, not three! And I will not have my sitting room littered with sleeping men!"

So this left Remus and Sirius and she supposed Pettigrew (though they never mentioned him,
whether he wasn't there or because of the pain his betrayal caused them Hermione wasn't sure) to
find decent food four nights a week – and where better than somewhere that served firewhisky, and
more often than not a pretty companion could be found?
Hermione's days began to take on a pattern. She knew of most of the likely places Sirius would go
in the evenings, so during the day she kept to her hotel room, often practicing occlumency in the
hope that if Dumbledore contacted her she would be able to keep Marvolo Gaunt's ring in the back
of her mind. Then, when being stuck in her room – lovely as it was – became overwhelming, she
would walk around muggle London. It was strangely relaxing, all the people pushing past each
other, the horns of cars and the smell of exhaust. She could almost forget that it was twenty years
in the past, and that in five months' time she would have to face Voldemort.

Every time she thought of this terrifying event looming ahead, her heart would beat erratically, her
stomach would clench as though she'd eaten something bad, and she would struggle to draw breath.
But then she would think of Harry putting on a brave face for the world despite his guilt. Of Ginny
who was suffering just as much because Harry was so empty of true emotion, drained as he was
from the constant pressure to seem pleased that he had saved the world. Of George in his drink
sodden stupor. Of Mrs Weasley, blank and staring. Of Ron, trying to hold the family together,
having his easy, happy self slowly worn away. These images filled her mind and she would be able
to remember the lives that would be saved as well – too many to count. And then she could breathe
again. She must succeed.

Then, each evening she would return to the hotel and prepare herself for the task of tracking down
Sirius, apparating from wizarding town to wizarding town checking the pubs for the dark-haired
marauder. When she returned from these – so far – futile trips she would lie in her bed and try to
clear her mind. It was not the Horcruxes or Dumbledore's unwillingness to trust her, (as after two
weeks she still hadn't heard from him) not even the worry that she would never find Sirius that
prevented her from successful occlumency practice.

It was Ron. Wonderful and slightly impossible Ron. She thought of his face grinning happily, the
sound of him and Harry laughing themselves hoarse in happier days at Hogwarts. She missed him
fiercely, but being away from him for a short while was worth it. The despondent, stressed Ron she
had known for the last three years was slowly being replaced in her memory with the student
version, the joker, the slightly insecure and loyal friend he had been. To be able to go back to a
world where he and Harry still laughed easily, where they had grown up without the constant fear
of Voldemort, would be amazing.

Hermione knew that by changing the past she may not even be friends with the two boys, let alone
fall in love with Ron, or have him fall in love with her. Without the threat of Voldemort, Hermione
would likely stay the book centric, rule loving swot she had been on her arrival at Hogwarts. But
even if she went back to a world where they weren't friends at school, that didn't mean she couldn't
get to know them in their twenties - most of the friends one makes for life are made then, not at
school. That's what her mother had told her anyway, but maybe she had just been trying to placate
her somewhat friendless daughter.

As was her resolution whenever these complicated strings of chain reactions attempted to tangle
her brain she repeated to herself, wait and see. As long as they were happy, all the Weasleys and
Harry, then she will have done the right thing. She wasn't only here for them of course, she was
here for all the friends and family they had lost, for the children that would never know their
parents, for the parents that would never see their children grow up, for the siblings that had lost
each other forever.

Hermione also had to deal with the problem of her accommodation. On the morning after her
second night there she had given the hotel manager a story.

Her mother had left Britain after her divorce from her father and moved to America where
Hermione had been living with her for the last two years, in New York. Her father was a business
 man, based in Hong Kong. Hermione had come to Britain to visit some old school friends, and
when her flight home had been cancelled she had decided it was a sign.

She told the manager how much she had missed England while living in New York, and that she
had decided to take a break from university for the rest of the year to enjoy her homeland. The
manager had seemed surprised at her request to live in the hotel at first - what uni student could
afford such a luxury? But she assured him that the credit card she had used at check in was
financed by her father and that to him, six months hotel accommodation was achieved in one
week's work.

The visa linked to a bank account of the fraudulent Mr. Granger, with a substantial limit and
Hermione as signatory. The postal address was a private box on the main island of Hong Kong. All
nice secure checkable facts just in case the hotel staff became suspicious. She had set this up
before she left, more illegal behaviour – but again, nothing compared to wizarding restrictions on
mucking about with time.

To commit the crime she had borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and waited in a little village
branch of the bank, a branch that only had two tellers at closing time. She had stunned one and
imperioused the other; the overweight, bouffant-haired woman had been forced to create the
account, back-dating its opening to 1978, adding a decent amount of money and issuing the credit
card Hermione now carried. Hermione had transfigured the card, removing the logo and adding the
one they had used in the eighties, as well as fixing the expiry date - it might raise the alarm if they
noticed it could be used until January 2002.

She had become quite good at transfiguring muggle travel necessities – as well as the visa card and
a drivers license that said she was born in 1959, she had a matching passport stamped with her
departure from Britain two years previously, a holiday to Hong Kong at Christmas and her arrival
in London through Gatwick six weeks ago. Perhaps if this all went horribly wrong she could make
a living selling documents to asylum seekers. It would fit her new, criminally minded character.

Hermione had silently thanked the lack of computers in the early nineteen eighties more times than
she could count. She had felt exceedingly guilty for what she saw as little less than bank robbery,
but continued to remind herself that most people would agree her mission was worth much more
than a few thousand pounds. It did help that the money went a lot further in 1981 than it did twenty
years in the future.

The hotel manager seemed satisfied with her tale. Who was he to turn down a guaranteed small
fortune? They did have long term guests from time to time, and the girl seemed nice, quiet and
polite.

Hermione was very glad he had accepted her story; she really didn't want to resort to using magic
against the muggle.

Chapter End Notes

Things that seem like plot-holes might just be the burrows of plot-bunnies.... xx
 London Calling

3rd June

It was a fine summer's evening in Upper Flagley, a small part-wizarding village in Yorkshire,
where a young man sat at the bar of the Snitch and Kneazle. He was a good-looking man, with
dark, slightly untidy collar length hair, light eyes and – usually – an easy grin; but tonight his
normally charming smile had been replaced with a scowl.

Sirius Black was not in a good mood. He was alone – his friends had abandoned him. Not by
choice, but that didn't make it any easier.

He despised the war for taking his life from him. He was twenty-one – his main concerns should
have been visiting his mates, drinking on a Saturday night and being pissy at his job for getting in
the way of his social life. This was not the case.

For Sirius, the war leached into everything.

Every conversation with his friends, every walk though a slightly subdued village, every moment
he sat behind his desk at the Auror headquarters in the Ministry, ticking boxes and listening to the
other newly qualified Aurors harp on about what a difference they are making in the world. It
drove him crazy to watch them, so complacent, believing that as long as the requisite paperwork
was complete, that if they followed the protocol, all the Death Eaters would be rounded up. They
were fools, full of their own importance.

Sirius knew that the Death Eaters were far stronger than the Ministry let on, that the people
disappearing were dead at their hands. He had already lost more friends than he could count. He
supposed the general public couldn't be blamed for keeping their heads down and keeping safe – it
wouldn't help matters for people to be more afraid than they already were – but the Aurors... they
should be worried. They should be fighting, capturing, hunting down Voldemort and killing him.

Alastor Moody, Sirius's boss, was the only one with enough guts to tell it how it was. Although that
didn't help matters at the Ministry – too many higher ups were unconvinced of the true danger, or
they were in the pockets of the Death Eaters.

Sirius was sure that without the Order of the Phoenix he would have gone insane by now. At least
they made some progress. Moody and Dumbledore ran the show in the Order, and they were
reasonably successful. But they were still losing: his group of friends, his chosen family, was
splitting apart, and the war was the wedge.

James, who had been like a brother to him for so many years, was in hiding and was only allowed
to leave the house for Order meetings. Remus, who admittedly had it pretty rough most of the time,
had been given a task by Dumbledore that had him up to his eyeballs in research books for all
hours of the day and night. And then there was Peter, whose mother was ill. He had been spending
most of his time with her.

Sirius wondered to himself if it was just an excuse; he knew Wormtail was often afraid to fight. He
pushed away the unworthy thought. You're just bitter and lonely, he told himself. It didn't help that
to Sirius, the idea of his own mother being ill, well... it made him happy.

Without his friends, Sirius found himself thinking more and more of his little brother, the foolish
git that he was. Of all the thoroughly depressing things that had happened in this war, seeing his
brother join the Death Eaters had been one of the worst. Sirius took a gulp from his nearly empty
glass of firewhiskey - so what if his brother, who he hadn't seen or spoken to since he left
Hogwarts, had followed the family line? So what if his friends were busy? He knew deep down
that he didn't really have much to complain about. In the grand scheme of things Sirius was just
feeling sorry for himself.

It irked him that, as an Auror, he had to go to work every day and follow pointless leads and do
paperwork, when people like Remus got to go on reconnaissance missions for the Order and fight
Death Eaters without filling in a ten page report detailing every hex or curse he'd used, or had used
against him. We should switch, thought Sirius, Moony loves paperwork.

He took another swig of his drink, draining the glass.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the bar, bored out of his mind. Normally he would have
found some pretty girl to spend his evening with by now. He glanced at his watch – only seven
thirty. He was amazed at how slowly the time passed when you drank alone. Perhaps all the good-
looking girls were still at home getting dolled up for their evening out. He wished they would
hurry up; he was badly in need of distraction tonight.

The barman had noticed Sirius's empty glass. 'Another, Black?'

Sirius nodded, pushing his glass toward the barman. 'Quiet night Wilfred?' Sirius asked.

The barman looked around, 'So far... don't worry though, I'm sure some girlie will turn up and
claim you soon enough.'

Sirius ignored him.

'Where's your mate tonight?' Wilfred asked with pointed glance at the vacant stool next to him.

'Busy,' Sirius grunted.

'Too bad,' said the barman. 'I like him. He has manners.'

Sirius grunted again.

Wilfred poured a measure of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey into Sirius's glass – Sirius noticed that there
was probably only enough for one more drink left in the bottle. Hadn't it been nearly full when he
arrived?

The door of the pub opened, distracting Sirius from trying to calculate how many drinks he had had
this evening. Judging by the ache it caused in his foggy brain, perhaps he didn't want to know
anyway.

There was a woman standing in the doorway, her wild curly hair illuminated from behind by the
streetlamp outside the inn. She was not dressed up like the girls that frequented the Snitch normally
were – Remus described them as "too much perfume, not enough fabric", a description which Sirius
accepted with enthusiasm – but a change was always nice. She wore light jeans and flats, and a
woolen jumper with a knit so wide Sirius could see through it to the black t-shirt she had beneath it.
She was looking around at the evening's patrons; when her eyes lit upon Sirius she did a double
take, her eyebrows lifting slightly.

'Told you.' said Wilfred smugly.

The new woman took the stool next to Sirius at the bar without looking at him.
Ever the dutiful barman, Wilfred asked, 'What can I get you sweetheart?'

'Firewhiskey,' she said, adding, 'double please,' with a smile.

'Coming right up,' he said, banging a glass down on the bar. He caught Sirius's eye and tilted his
head toward the woman. 'Manners!' he mouthed.

Sirius just shook his head and took another drink.

'That'll be four sickles,' Wilfred said as he tipped the last of the bottle Sirius had been working on
into her glass. She passed the coins across the bar and Wilfred left to deposit them in the till.

Sirius looked at her out of the corner of his eye – she was completely unfamiliar. She looked about
his age, but he didn't recognise her at all. She sounded British though... she must have gone to
Hogwarts. He wished Remus were here. Moony, with his frustratingly competent memory,
remembered everyone. It was useful in situations such as this, though horrifically embarrassing
when it came to being reminded of some of the more douche-baggy moments in Sirius's life.

He was suddenly annoyed again – annoyed that he was alone, not to mention that he probably
looked like a sad alcoholic sitting at the bar by himself, sufficiently sloshed at only seven thirty.
Where had his confidence scuttled off to this evening? There was a pretty witch sitting next to him
and he couldn't think of a thing to say to her. How unusual.

He'd picked up plenty of girls he didn't know before, but normally he knew something, or Moony's
magic memory did: one of their siblings, where they worked, or who one of their friends had been
at Hogwarts. Unless they were foreign, and then you just had to ask them where they were from.
Easy. It dawned on him that Moony was the perfect wingman. But this witch? She sounded like
she was from London, she looked his age. What was he supposed to say? 'Come here often?' He
cringed at the thought.

She must have noticed him looking because she asked, 'Can I help you with something?' she was
grinning expectantly at him.

'Er ... that's my whiskey you're drinking,' he grumbled. Twat, he thought. Utter twat.

'Your whiskey?' she looked confused.

Then, taking in the empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey that was still sitting on the bar, she
brightened, a glint in her eyes. 'Really? ... You're Mr. Ogden? I always imagined him to be old, not
to mention dead – this whiskey has been around for centuries. You're certainly looking good.'

He knew he looked surprised as she held out her hand and said, 'I'm Hermione – it's a pleasure to
meet you Mr. Ogden, you make a fine drink.'

Apparently this girl liked twats, a remarkable stroke of luck. Sirius was completely stunned as he
took her hand and shook it.

'Sirius,' he said chuckling, finding his voice at last. 'I meant, I was about to finish that bottle, I've
grown quite attached to it this evening and now you've taken its final offering.'

'In that case, I'm terribly sorry,' she said, solemnly meeting his eye.

He laughed. 'Apology accepted,' he said firmly, trying to match her tone but failing. She laughed,
too. A proper laugh, not an affected giggle, she seemed genuinely amused by their odd
conversation.
Wilfred had shuffled back to their end of the bar by now, and was busying himself with restocking
the glasses. He always enjoyed watching Black pull; the young bloke made it look so easy.
Though, the barman supposed, it probably was easy when you were young, handsome and rich.

'I don't know you, do I?' Sirius asked her, eyebrow quirked as he pulled a cigarette from the pack in
his pocket and lit it.

Hermione looked taken aback, 'Er... no. I shouldn't think so. I... um, don't come here very often.'

Sirius smirked at the use of the phrase. 'You should,' he said confidently. 'We're a riot.'

'We?' she asked him, taking in the empty barstool next-door.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Me and my mate Moony come here quite a lot. The food's great and Wilfred over
there,' he indicated the barman, 'he's a gem.'

'Moony?' she questioned. 'That's an interesting name. The star and the moon – how romantic,' she
said, grinning once more.

Sirius laughed again. Merlin, she was quick. 'Don't let him hear you say that.'

'Oh no, unrequited love is it? ... You poor thing.' Her voice was quaking with barely controlled
laughter by this point.

Sirius just looked at her, it was like she knew just the thing to say to make him laugh – she was like
an old friend. Who was this miraculous woman sent here to cheer him up?

She was laughing again, her head thrown back, 'Your face...' She tried to control herself, obviously
taking his expression of contemplation for one of mild offence. 'I'm kidding,' she said with a snort
and another chortle.

And then he couldn't help it, he was laughing, too – a little hysterically, but actually laughing. It
was such a release; he felt like he hadn't laughed in weeks. His previous surly mood seemed to
vanish – she was like a good hangover potion, making him feel light, and actually cheerful.

Wilfred looked over at them; half the pub was staring, too. 'I hope that's only tobacco you're
smoking in my pub Black!' he called. The other customers began to chuckle and it set Hermione off
again.

When they had finally calmed down and Hermione had finished her drink, Sirius said with a casual
shrug, 'Want to get out of here?' He was trying to sound relaxed, like it was no big deal, but in all
honesty he was quite nervous. Nervous? Merlin's pants, how ridiculous.

'Sure,' she said.

He grinned. Merlin and his multitude of undergarments could go hang.

As they left the pub Wilfred called out, 'Have a good night Black,' and tipped him a huge wink.

Out in the street Sirius said, 'I live in London, did you want to... ?'

'Me too,' said Hermione. 'It's still early though, shall we have a look at what's going on in the city?'

'Sure,' he agreed, 'anywhere in mind?'

'Not really. I don't go out much. What do you like to do on a Wednesday night?'
'Er ...' Sirius was at a loss. What did he do in London? Trawl for birds? Get shitfaced with Moony
at the Leaky? Then it came to him, remembering an evening he had spent with a muggle girl last
summer. He held out his hand to Hermione, and said with a wink, 'It's a surprise.'

She took his hand and they disapparated, appearing in the shadow of a large tree, with the Thames
down a bank to their left, Waterloo bridge looming behind them and London lit up before them, the
reflection sparking in the slowly moving river.

Sirius blanched – apparating on a stomach full of whiskey was not a good idea. He reached out a
hand to the wide trunk of the tree to steady himself, taking deep breaths and willing himself not to
puke in front of his companion.

'You alright?' She asked quietly.

'Yeah,' he said, standing upright again, and swallowing as though his life depended on it, his refusal
to be embarrassed winning out over his gag-reflex by sheer force of will. 'Cracking,' he said
grinning once more, 'and you?'

'Fine,' said Hermione, turning her back on him and sitting on a bench that looked out over the river.
'So this is what you do in London, sit by the river and admire the view?'

'Not very often.' He wondered was going through her mind – she was suddenly serious and
reserved, and looked quite concerned as she frowned out at the dirty river.

'Knut for your thoughts?' Sirius asked, pulling out a cigarette and propping himself on the back of
the bench so they were side by side but facing opposite directions. He lit up and took a deep drag,
then looked down at her – she seemed too deep in thought to have heard him. He nudged her with
his elbow. 'You still here?'

She jumped. 'Sorry I, er... zoned out for a minute.' Her eyes were still unfocused as she turned back
to the river.

'What were you thinking about that had you so, um ... zoned out?'

'My plan,' she said.

Ominous, thought Sirius. 'Your plan for what?'

She appeared to have fallen back into her reverie. Sirius looked around at the noisy road, the
gurgling of the river, the sound of people making their way towards the bars further down the road
– all of it was so normal. What had this girl so distracted? Perhaps she was regretting coming with
him. Maybe she was trying to think of a polite way to turn him down. His confidence that had
returned momentarily seemed to have run for the hills once more.

For a moment he longed for the airheads he usually took home; they never required him to force
his drink sodden brain to come up with conversation, or try to work out what they were thinking
about, usually babbling and giggling so much he'd kiss them just to shut them up.

He tried a different tack, 'So, what do you do? You never told me.'

'Do?' she questioned, turning to look at him a frown appearing on her face.

'Yeah, you know, for a living... Where do you work?' he elaborated.

'Oh, Right, I'm um... in between jobs at the moment,' she said. She still seemed far away but at
least she was talking to him.

He pushed on, wondering how long it had been since he'd had to work this hard to get anyone's
attention. 'So how do you spend your time then?'

'A bit of private research actually,' she said, and all of a sudden the faraway look was gone, and she
was looking directly at him, a smile on her face as though the last ten awkward minutes never
happened. It was like she'd just switched back on.

Sirius was flummoxed – how drunk was he? Still, not wanting to look a gift thestral in the mouth
now that she was present and smiling again, he asked, 'Really? What sort of research?'

'Oh, you know,' she said airily, 'a bit of this a little of that. Actually,' she continued, more seriously
but still smiling, 'most recently I've been concentrating on my plan to destroy Voldemort.'

Whatever Sirius had expected, it wasn't that. He choked as he inhaled on his smoke, spluttering.
When he looked through streaming eyes at her, she was frowning again.

'That's quite bad for you, you know,' she said conversationally, indicating the cigarette.

She had to be fucking kidding. 'So is trying to kill Voldemort,' he wheezed, staring at her.

'Touché,' she replied, giggling under her breath.

'No, really,' he asked, 'are you kidding?'

'Absolutely not,' she said, face straight, looking him directly in the eye.

He sighed. She'd been too good to be true – funny, clever and fit? He glared at her, thinking how
unfair it was that she had led him to believe she was actually normal, relatively interesting and easy
to get along with. She wasn't adverse to the odd twatty comment, a saving grace where he was
concerned, and she wasn't going to fawn all over him because he was handsome or rich, or both.
She had seemed so promising - then to turn out to be mind-bendingly crazy? The nerve of her.

'And how in the name of Merlin are you going to carry out this grand plan?' he asked scathingly,
thinking that it was not something people should joke about, but really his main anger was at the
hope that had flared in his chest. 'A little girl isn't going to defeat Voldemort!' he sneered
venomously. 'Do you even know what you're suggesting?'

She looked stung. She put her head down miserably; her breathing was shallow, almost like she
was afraid.

Sirius kicked himself. He had pushed past her tolerance of twattery with that one. Now he'd really
ruined his chances. He glanced at her again – she really looked panicked, was he that frightening?
Or was it that his gittishness was so appalling she couldn't bear the sight of him any longer? What
did it really matter if she was slightly unhinged – at least it was in an exciting way. Perhaps he
could apologise? Well, he thought grimly, there had to be a first time for everything.

He flicked his cigarette away resolutely and moved around the bench to sit beside her. She didn't
look at him; she was still staring down and twisting her hands in her lap. He put his hand on her
knee. She didn't flinch – a promising sign. 'Hermione,' he said gently, in his most conciliatory tone,
a brilliant skill that had got him out of an endless string of unfortunate situations. 'I'm sorry, I
shouldn't have snapped at you.' She didn't move.

He tightened the grip on her knee, and leaned a little closer. 'Hermione?' He murmured.
Her head snapped around, and their faces were only inches apart; she was frozen, stock still, gaze
locked with his. He leaned in, and then – she was gone from the bench standing a few feet away
still staring at him. Her sudden movement had caused him to slip, and the hand that had been
resting on her knee, now with no support, flew to the empty bench to catch him before he
faceplanted.

'Sirius?' Her voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear her over the bubbling of the river and the roar
of traffic. She had taken a step forward and was now standing in front of him. She was holding out
a piece of parchment. He took it from her.

'Sorry,' she said, with a small smile. She reached forward and patted him on the head. Then she
spun on the spot and with a crack she was gone.

'What – The – Fuck?' Sirius cursed loudly. Had she really just patted him on the head? What the
hell? Like a bloody dog? It was apt, he thought, but still. The girl was batcrap crazy! She had a
plan to defeat Voldemort? Was she just having a laugh? Then why was she so offended that he
thought it was ridiculous? Was she playing hard to get – trying to seem brave so the infamous
Sirius Black would take her seriously? He cringed at his big-headedness. Obviously not, you
berk, or she would have just kissed you.

His mind was reeling he unfolded the parchment, to read the name and address of a hotel in
London, followed by a hastily-added post script:

'Sorry I'm a bit weird, I'll explain next time.'

A bit weird? That was the understatement of the century. Next time? Yeah, right. Swearing under
his breath and glad the whiskey had loosened its hold on him, he concentrated on his flat and
disapparated.

Hermione apparated directly into her hotel room. It was late and she knew the front desk staff
changed at ten, so no one would notice that she hadn't come in through the lobby.

She was breathing heavily. What the hell? Had she gone completely mental? Find Sirius, get him
on your side, tell him you're from the future and that you have a plan to kill Voldemort, how
bloody difficult was that? Not find Sirius, flirt with him, and then when he asks you to go home
with him act like a crazy person and lead him on till he tries to kiss you, and then vanish!

He would never talk to her again. What had she done? When they had been at the pub in Upper
Flagley she'd thought if she could get him by himself, she could tell him why she was there, what
the plan was. But she had been kidding herself.

First of all he'd been drunk – not unexpected, but still a slight spanner in the works. Second, he'd
been lonely – that had been obvious. And third, so was she – to see a familiar face, albeit a much
younger version, had been wonderful.

These last three weeks had been difficult alone. She didn't know a soul that it was safe to talk to,
and seeing Sirius alive and healthy after five years was a miracle. She couldn't believe how bright
and carefree he'd looked when they were laughing like crazy people in the Snitch and Kneazle. She
wished Harry could have seen him that way, though it was almost depressing to compare him to the
man she'd known – dark and sad, with only flashes of the spirit she'd seen tonight.

And now he was going to think her some psycho twit that had played along and then chickened out
at the last minute. She thought about when they had been at the river bank, how she'd almost had a
panic attack trying to force the words out. I'm from the future, you're going to go to Azkaban for
twelve years, Lily and James are going to die. Jesus, how could you slip those into conversation?
And when she'd finally got the courage up to say she knew how to stop Voldemort he'd thought she
was some daft bird with a death wish.

Would he even contact her? Had she just ruined everything? Dumbledore didn't believe her and
Sirius thought she was mad – the two people she had been counting on to help her through his.
What a fool she'd been to think it would be so easy. It was ridiculous. A voice that sounded a lot
like Ron's whispered in her mind, 'No amount of notes and planning will get you through this one
love.' Ron. How she missed him. She was crying now, something she hadn't done since arriving in
1981. Should she just go home? She hadn't changed anything yet.

Dumbledore would probably recognise her when she got to Hogwarts, but what could he do? And
Sirius would have forgotten about the random woman he'd had a drink with once, by the time they
met in 1994. She doubted he'd make the connection; twelve years with dementors would surely
drive such frivolous things from his brain. The thought of letting all the awful things happen again
was horrible. It made her want to throw up.

Was there a chance Dumbledore would act on what he saw in the memories when he realised what
was happening with the secret keeper? Even if he wasn't convinced until Halloween, he could still
help Sirius, and that would help Harry. Dumbledore knew about the Horcruxes now, he might be
able to find and destroy them - but he didn't know about the ring, and it was too dangerous to tell
him. 'That's what I'll do,' thought Hermione, 'I'll get the ring. Then Dumbledore won't get injured in
our sixth year, he'll be alive to keep fighting Voldemort if he needs to.' It calmed her to have a plan
again. She would get the ring, destroy it, and then she would go home.
 Entertaining Insanity

5th June

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I have failed to convince you and the other contact, but s oon you'll have enough evidence to
believe me. Please use the information I gave you to right the situation.

I'm going to be here for one more week and then I'll be gone. If you change your mind, the other
contact knows where to find me.

With hope,

H.G.

Little Hangleton was strange village. Five or so shops lined each side of the short and narrow main
street, the sort of businesses you'd expect in a small rural town - a Baker's, a Dressmaker's, what
had probably once been a Blacksmith's that in more recent years moved on to selling hardware, a
Butcher's, a Greengrocer's, of course the obligatory Inn, but also a small bookshop. At the end of
the street stood the school house; a small church was perched halfway up the hillside behind the
school, its graveyard just visible in the shadow of an old yew tree.

Hermione apparated with a pop at the opposite end of the high street; she was glad of the heavy
spring rain which further hid the shimmer of her disillusioned form, as she hoped to keep her
presence here a secret. As she looked around the main road, she thought the village had an unusual
quality - at first she thought "timeless", but that implied quaintness… it was more like "forgotten",
like the residents of the town had no interest in the new or different. If Hermione hadn't known the
year she would have looked at the faded facades and outdated signage and guessed that she was
somewhere in the early sixties.

Turning her back on the little street, Hermione proceeded away from the village up the gradually
inclining road, between the tall thick hedgerows. According to her maps, this was the route to the
Gaunt house and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, the ring that so long ago had belonged to Cadmus Peverell,
the ring that she must keep hidden from Dumbledore at all costs.

Dumbledore was in possession of the Elder Wand, and at some point very soon James Potter would
show him the invisibility cloak and he would ask to borrow it. If he found out that the Resurrection
Stone was also within his grasp... well, Hermione didn't like to imagine the consequences.
Dumbledore had said he was not worthy to unite the Hallows, so what would happen if they were
thrust into his grasp before he had come to terms with the idea? Insanity, or only frightfully bad
decisions? Neglect of his current responsibilities, or the desire to rule all? She shuddered. A
corrupt Dumbledore was not something this world could handle.

Hermione turned off the main road after ten minutes onto a very steep goat track that lead down
the side of an old river valley, winding through rocks and scrubby bushes toward a dense copse of
trees at the bottom of the valley. She skirted around to the other side and entered the wooded area,
approaching the Gaunt's old home at the rear.

There would be serious protective enchantments on the house, if not the surrounding area;
squatting down amongst the undergrowth behind a fallen log she withdrew her wand from the
inside pocket of her coat glanced around to make sure she was alone. She cast two spells in quick
succession, the first homenum revelio, followed rapidly by a shield charm – she wasn't sure what
the reaction would be to magic cast upon the collapsing dwelling and wanted to make sure she
would be protected.

She needn't have worried. Nothing happened. Her charm had shown that the place was clear, so she
crept closer and peered through the grimy window that faced the trees. It was a shambles inside, lit
only by the dim grey daylight filtering through the gaps in the ceiling where the roof tiles had
disintegrated over time. Deciding that this was enough reconnaissance for one afternoon, she
moved back into the trees. She hadn't planned on removing the ring from its hiding place; it would
be better to come back at night to avoid any muggle eyes.

Her original idea had involved bringing the other Horcruxes to the Gaunt shack and destroying
them all at once, shack and all. Harry had not been able to tell her of any of the curses that
protected the ring, only that Dumbledore hadn't been able to beat them. That was very worrying. If
she was going to get the ring without drawing attention to its destruction – important now that she
was headed back before Hallowe'en – she would have to find a way to remove it. She thought of
Dumbledore's blackened hand... perhaps if she researched the injury she would be able to get an
idea of what she would be facing. With this highly unappealing thought she turned on the spot and
disapparated back to London.

Hermione appeared in the alley across the street from her hotel, and crossed the busy road to climb
the steps that led to the gold-edged doors of the hotel entrance. As she made her way across the
thickly carpeted entry towards the lifts, an urgent voice called to her, 'Excuse me, Miss Granger?'

It was the young man behind the reception desk; fear flooded her – the credit card! Had they
discovered it wasn't real? She didn't see how. She had been very thorough in her banditry. Her
guilty conscience must have showed on her face as she turned to look at him. The concierge looked
alarmed.

'I didn't mean to startle you darling, it's just that I have a message here for you.'

Her fear turned suddenly to confusion - who would leave her a message at reception? Dumbledore
would send an owl to her room, as would Sirius, and she hadn't even spoken to anyone else.

'A message?' she asked. 'From whom?' As she came to stand at the counter, she realised she hadn't
met this hotel staffer yet. He was young, in his mid-twenties, with blonde hair pulled back in a
ponytail and a small silver sleeper in his ear.

He smiled and leaned toward her conspiratorially over the desk, 'Well to tell you the truth love, it's
from a young fella.' He smiled even wider, straight white teeth showing, 'Devilish good-looking
one, too. '

'Really?' Hermione replied, smiling a little.

'Yes, he didn't give me his name – but he left this.' He handed her a folded piece of parchment. 'He
said it was for the gorgeous Miss Granger, and that you'd know who it was from.'

Hermione unfolded the small slip of parchment and read.

Dear Hermione,

I'm quite hurt you were not eagerly awaiting my owl - he's a stickler for punctual replies you know.

I would rather enjoy being further entertained by your insane plan.

Fancy a drink this evening? Meet me in the hotel reception at eight if you are willing.

Yours Truly,

Mr Ogden

Hermione chuckled nervously as she re-folded the note, muttering 'Cocky bastard!' under her
breath.

The concierge laughed, 'Dearie, if you don't call him, I certainly will!'

Hermione giggled - why couldn't all the staff in this hotel be as friendly as this guy? 'I'll be sure to
inform him of his options,' she said with a wink. Her heart lightened; she had obviously not
botched her first attempt as badly as she thought.

This was it. A second chance.

Up in her room Hermione discovered the aforementioned owl - dark grey with mischievous eyes. It
was perched on the back of the sofa looking bored out of its mind. Was it even possible for a bird
to look bored?

She removed the scroll from its leg. Unfurling it she found a similar message to the one at
reception – though without the admonitions about owl etiquette. She was genuinely surprised
Sirius was going to such effort to get in contact with her. She really thought she'd made a terrible
first impression.

She scrawled a reply on the back of the note, using the pen so thoughtfully provided by hotel
housekeeping.

Mr Ogden,

I would love to entertain you with my insanity this evening. See you at eight.

P.S. You made quite the impression on the fellow at reception – he was quite disappointed I
planned to accept your invitation.

Rolling up her reply and attaching it to the owl's leg she felt a pang of guilt. What was she doing
flirting with Sirius? She was here on a mission, not to behave like a schoolgirl. It didn't really
matter, she realized - once Sirius knew the real reason for her presence here, he would have far
more important things on his mind than flirting. She carried the bird to the French doors and
unlatched them; as the owl took off from her arm, she sighed. Wrong impression or not, the
distraction was quite nice.

At eight that evening, Hermione stepped out of the lift at the ground floor and scanned the room;
she saw Sirius reflected in the large mirror opposite her, leaning on the reception desk in close
conversation with the man who had delivered his message earlier. Sirius looked over as the lift
doors closed and caught Hermione's eye in the refection, a wide smile breaking across his face.

'Well Mark, it's been a pleasure,' he said to the concierge, reaching across the marble to clap him
on the shoulder, 'but my date has arrived.'

'Lucky thing,' Hermione heard Mark mutter as she took her place at Sirius's side.

'Thanks for keeping him entertained,' she said. 'You know boys and their attention spans.'
Mark laughed. 'The pleasure was all mine,' he said, still chortling. 'Have a lovely evening.'

As she and Sirius turned to make their way through to the hotel bar, Sirius looked back over his
shoulder and winked at the concierge; Mark, in turn, flipped his hand at them in a shooing gesture.

Sirius pushed open the wide glass door that separated the bar from the lobby held it for Hermione;
as she passed she whispered, 'You are terrible!'

'Really?' he said, feigning a look of horror, 'I thought I was doing rather well.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. At least it wasn't just her; Sirius flirted with everyone.

'So, what are we having this evening?' Sirius asked her when they reached the bar. 'I'm not too
flash on muggle alcohol,' he admitted with a small grimace.

Hermione was taken aback by his casual attitude. She really thought that he would be angry at her
for the madness of her behaviour the other night, but he seemed to have forgotten all about it. Or
was ignoring it.

'Oh, er ...' she said. 'They have normal whiskey, it's nothing as good as yours though, Mr Ogden. I
prefer wine.'

Sirius nodded, 'When in Rome, right?'

Hermione smiled. 'Yes, when in Rome.'

'You'd better order it,' he said, pulling out his wallet. 'I always mess up the gold in muggle places.'
He handed her a banknote, 'Will this cover it?'

Hermione spluttered, 'Um, yes, ... Sirius, this is a hundred pounds!' she said quietly, 'The wine is
four pounds fifty a glass – or twenty for a bottle.'

'How am I to know?' he said, looking slightly put out. 'Told you I'd mess it up.' Rifling through the
fat stack of notes in his wallet, he muttered, 'Bloody bits of paper - honestly, how do the muggles
keep track of it?' He finally extracted a ten and handed it to Hermione. 'That better?'

'Yes,' she said, handing back the hundred.

'You know,' said Sirius thoughtfully, 'I've never met a bird who complained about me giving her
too much gold'.

'You still haven't,' said Hermione. 'They're only bits of paper, remember?' He grinned, seeming
happier at this thought.

Hermione ordered two glasses of house red and then opened her purse, rummaging to find two fifty
pence pieces in the jumble at the bottom. When the barmaid gave her the change Hermione kept
the pound note for herself and gave the coins to Sirius.

'Oh, these are much better!' he said, examining the odd shape of the coins' flattened edges.

'How come you've got so much muggle money anyway?' Hermione asked him, biting her lip at the
somewhat rude question.

Sirius didn't seem fazed, 'Because a gentleman is always prepared,' he stated matter-of-factly in his
best pureblood drawl.
Hermione had just taken a sip from her glass and coughed slightly, ignoring the reference to Sirius
as a gentleman – dubious as it was – to ask, 'Prepared for what? Were you worried we might end
up in a situation tonight where the only way out was for you to buy a house?'

He shrugged. 'I got some gold changed into muggle money about a year ago and I just keep it in
this wallet, I don't normally take it with me unless I'm going somewhere I'll need it, and that's not
very often.'

'Only on the occasions you take out unsuspecting muggle girls,' Hermione said disparagingly. 'I
can only imagine how they succumb to your advances when they see you're carrying around an
average man's annual income.' She rolled her eyes.

'Really? Bloody James.' shaking his head, Sirius went on, 'He's my best mate, we went to Gringotts
together to change the gold. I bet he knew it was too much – probably still laughing about it. Git. I
did wonder at the time how muggles could afford to live if that's how much gold they needed to
survive.'

Hermione was laughing by this time, 'Purebloods,' she managed to get out, 'you're hopeless.'

'So, anyway Miss Hermione, you promised to entertain me with your insanity this evening – so far
you've just laughed at me. I wish to return the favour.'

Hermione hesitated. She had forgotten for a moment the real reason she was sitting with this man,
and let herself be caught up in the charade of getting him on her side, and enjoying his company.
For her it was quite strange – Sirius had always been taciturn and unpredictable, but on his good
days she had always found him quite easy to get along with; they had a decent amount in common
and he'd always liked to hear her theories, and challenge her on them. She guessed that the Sirius
before Azkaban was that same Sirius, the good day one. Well, she thought, it will make this whole
mission easier if we can get along.

'Shall we get a table?' she asked him.

'Sure.' He took another sip of wine before turning to scan the bar for empty tables. 'This stuff is
pretty good, not as good as elf-made, but it'll do.' he said, with a nod at his glass.

'That's why I like it,' Hermione replied, a bit nonsensically; she was starting to feel that
overwhelming sense of panic again, the same one that had rendered her speechless on the bank of
the Thames.

Sirius led her to a table away from the other customers, put down his glass and pulled out the chair
for her, settling her before sitting down himself. She was slightly surprised by this, then realised
she shouldn't be. The purebloods, especially one of the "Most Ancient and Noble House of Black",
were all raised to understand proper behavior, and being disowned had nothing to do with public
manners.

'I'm not sure where to start', she said, looking down into her glass and willing the words to leave
her mouth. She lifted her head to meet his eyes. 'I need to make a confession.' Sirius just looked at
her, waiting for her to continue. 'I haven't been entirely honest about my reason for finding you.'

'Hermione,' Sirius interrupted, 'You're not the only one that hasn't been honest.' He was suddenly
quiet and serious as he leaned toward her. 'Dumbledore contacted me yesterday. His concern was a
witch from the future called Hermione Granger that had met with him, and told him she had a plan
to bring down Voldemort. And that she needed the assistance of one Sirius Black. Didn't you
wonder how I knew your last name?'
'Er ...' her brain had jammed. Dumbledore told him ... then why was Sirius here? ... Hadn't
Dumbledore been warning him to stay away? ... Did Dumbledore believe her then? ... What sort of
game were they playing? ... Trying to catch her out? ... Then why would Sirius have told her he
already knew? ... She couldn't understand ... unless Dumbledore did believe her ... or Sirius just
told her something he shouldn't have ... Then why hadn't Dumbledore come to her? Why had he
left her believing he thought she was lying?

'Umm, Hermione … is it true?' His voice was soft, almost pleading. 'Do you really have a way of
stopping Voldemort?'

'Yes,' Hermione whispered.

'Yes?!' he exclaimed loudly, then lowered his voice, 'and ... you're from the future?'

'Yes,' she confirmed - she didn't seem to be able to say anything else. She was horrified at how
happy he looked; she knew that as soon as she told him what they would have to do, and what was
at stake if they failed, he would feel the same sense of panic and horror that she did.

'And here I was thinking Dumbledore had finally lost his marbles,' Sirius chuckled.

'Hang on,' said Hermione, 'if you thought Dumbledore was crazy, why did you want to see me?'

'I couldn't help hoping it was true, come on ... a plan to stop Voldemort? The Ministry have been
working on that for the last ten years!'

'So Dumbledore believes me then?' Hermione asked.

'Well, he seemed pretty definite when he told me about you.' he said, then his face grew puzzled,
'How did you convince him of such an unlikely story anyway?'

'I wasn't aware that I had. I met with him three weeks ago. I told him who I was, and the basic
frame of my plan, but he didn't seem convinced at all. I gave him some memories of my time at
Hogwarts, but I really thought he was brushing me off as crazy. He hasn't contacted me at all, or
asked to talk again – do you think he doesn't think I can do it? Does he just want to do it his way?
Why is he always so confusing?!' she finished, frustrated.

Sirius looked taken aback at this little outburst, leaning back in his chair, eyebrows raised. 'Um ... I
dunno, do I? He's always been bloody cryptic as far as I can remember. As to the rest - no idea,
sorry.' He leaned toward her again, 'So ... how did you get here?'

'I ... er ... modified a Timeturner.' Hermione said.

'What! On your own?' he exclaimed disbelievingly.

Hermione nodded. 'It took me three years to get it right.'

'But that's impossible! If you could do that, the world wouldn't have any problems.' He looked
unconvinced.

'It was very difficult,' she snapped, 'but obviously not impossible, or I wouldn't be sitting here,
would I?' She was slightly insulted at his insinuation that she could not achieve such a thing, or that
if she could then everyone in the future must have one in their back pocket. Flamel could make a
Philosopher's Stone, but that didn't mean you could buy one at the corner shop.

'Sorry,' he said, 'It's just a lot to swallow. So where did you come from? Do you know me in the
future? Is that why you need me?' He paused, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows.
'Oh Merlin ... I'm... I'm not your Dad or anything am I?'

Hermione giggled, surprising herself – he looked so horrified. 'No, but you are my best friend's
godfather.' His eyebrows went up – she could see the light of realisation in his grey eyes.

'Your best friend is Harry? Harry Potter?

'Yes,' she nodded, 'We were in the same year at Hogwarts – we were in Gryffindor together.'

'Cool!' said Sirius grinning, 'So you must know James, Lily and me quite well then? Although,' he
seemed to be counting in his head. 'Ew ... we'd be so old ... how old are you?'

'Twenty one,' she said quietly, 'I left from 2001.'

'Merlin!' he exclaimed, 'We'd be forty-one!'

'Um...' Hermione wanted to interrupt, to tell him that she'd never met Harry's parents that she'd only
known Sirius for two years – that he only had another fifteen years to live, but he was still
rambling on, 'What was Harry like?... Was Sirius still his favourite person in the world? ... Was
Harry good at Quidditch?... Did he, Sirius, still have all his hair?

She just sat there, stunned, and terrified of what his reaction would be when she finally had the
balls to tell him.

Suddenly the stream of questions came to a halt.

'Er ... Hermione?' His voice was soft again, 'There's something else, isn't there? Why are you here?
Is Voldemort supreme ruler of the universe? Does something happen to Harry?'

'No', said Hermione 'It's just ...' she stopped; taking a deep breath, she willed herself to meet Sirius's
gaze.

'What?' he said impatiently, 'What is it?'

She exhaled. 'Okay, I should start at the beginning.' Just do it her brain told her, just say it. 'The
prophecy made by Trelawney –'

'About the boy born at the end of July?' Sirius interrupted.

'Yes,' Hermione confirmed with a quick nod, 'Riddle, for his own reasons that we shall probably
never know, decided that it was Harry.'

'Riddle?' Sirius looked lost.

'Tom Riddle is Voldemort's true name. It's what we call him now – it takes away the fear, that was
Harry's idea.'

'Brilliant, we should do that now,' Sirius said, 'stop all the You-Know-Who bollocks.'

'I've never really understood that,' Hermione said pensively, 'I mean, normal citizens, maybe - but
the Ministry? I've always thought it bizarre that they would show that much fear.'

'I reckon,' he agreed. 'Like I said – bollocks.'

'So anyway,' she said, refocusing on the task at hand, 'the prophecy is correct, Harry was the one
destined to finish Riddle forever. When he and I were seventeen, and our friend Ron, we went on a
mission that was left to us by Dumbledore – he dies you see, but I'll come back to that - it was a
mission to kill Riddle. To destroy him entirely. It took us a year to find what we needed, and
Riddle and the Death Eaters were hunting us, but in the end we managed everything we needed to
do. In the end Harry triumphs. He defeats Riddle in single combat, and Riddle is vanquished
forever.'

'Harry kills him? Little Harry?' Sirius asked, his face was very pale.

'Well,' Hermione smiled slightly, 'he's not so little by then, but yes. He kills him in front of
hundreds of people. He's quite the hero in my time – even has his own chocolate frog card,' she
added, trying to take the horrified look from Sirius's face.

'Huh,' he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'Was I there?' he asked quietly, 'and James and
Lily? Although ...' he said, a frown marring his shocked face, 'I can't imagine Lily standing by
while her baby boy battled Voldemort – she would have kicked old Snakeface in the bollocks
before she let Harry fight him.'

The feeling of panic began to rise inside Hermione again. Get on with it! The voice in her head told
her. She looked around the room – how could she tell him in a room full of people? It wasn't fair ...
he would be angry, very angry, when she told him about Pettigrew. She didn't want to cause a
scene.

'Actually Sirius ... I think we'd be better to go up to my room – it's a long story, and to be honest,
it's not very pleasant.'

'Fine, let's go then,' he said impatiently, 'I want to get this over with.' He picked up his almost full
glass of wine and chugged it back. Hermione watched surprised - perhaps he was more nervous
than he looked.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve and coughing slightly he said, 'Interesting ... It's not so good when
you drink it all at once.'

Shaking her head Hermione stood, taking her glass with her, 'I'm just going to finish mine upstairs.'

He smiled ruefully, 'I didn't realise that was an option.'

When they reached the room, Sirius looked around, apparently impressed. 'Not bad up here is it?'

'No,' said Hermione, wondering why he was talking about decor when she was about to give him
the worst news of his life.

He'd flopped down the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, his boots
resting on the coffee table, fingers linked behind his head as he leaned back: the very picture of a
man at ease. His eyes gave him away, however – he was following her every movement like a
hawk. She tried to appear calm as she put her wine on the end table, and then sat in the armchair
opposite.

'Sirius,' she said, 'I just want to warn you – some of what I tell you is going to be hard to hear. I
want you to remember that none of it is going to happen. We are going to change it, well I am –
and you, if you agree to help.'

An hour, and another bottle of wine later, Sirius stood on the little balcony of Hermione's hotel
room, with a cigarette in one hand and a photograph in the other.
There was Hermione – looking very young, but there was no doubt it was her, you couldn't mistake
that hair - standing between to two boys, one tall and freckly with fiery red hair, and the other...
well, the other boy was basically James. He stood shorter than the red head but taller than
Hermione, and looked so much like the James Sirius remembered from fifth year; His eyes were
different of course and his glasses were the wrong shape but otherwise Harry was the spitting
image of his father.

Though remarkable, this was not the thing that made Sirius's hand shake as he took a drag on his
cigarette. It was him. Sirius was standing behind Harry in the picture, resting a hand on Harry's
shoulder. He, Sirius, was so haggard, so old... so sad… not to mention thin and weak looking. His
eyes were haunted, looking up at him from the old photo. Next to him was Remus – also lined and
certainly grey, his face furrowed in a familiar frown – worrying about something, Sirius could tell.
At least Moony still looks fit he thought.

This insane picture was so unsettling – what had happened to make him look so... so dead?

Hermione had told him the story; Riddle killed Lily and James. Sirius had blanched at this –where
had they gone wrong? Harry had been Riddle's downfall - but he wasn't really dead, the Horcruxes
he had made before the attack on the Potters had kept him existing.

Harry had to be protected by Lily's blood, so he had been raised by her muggle sister. Hermione
and the two boys had hunted down the Horcruxes and Harry had fought and defeated Voldemort.
But so many had been lost along the way. Including himself apparently. Killed at the Ministry
trying to save Harry only months after this picture had been taken.

Hermione had asked for his help - how on earth could he refuse? James and Lily's lives were in
danger. He would do anything to protect them. He could handle most of it: that she had come from
the future, no problem; saving his friends lives, that was a given; destroying Voldemort's soul, he
would enjoy that; going on an adventure with an interesting woman, well that was icing on the
cake.

No, it wasn't worry about any of these things that had him throwing back Firewhiskey like it was
the last bottle on earth. There was something she wasn't telling him. Hermione said the picture was
from 1995 – he was only thirty six. Yet he looked so hollow ... so sad ... defeated. Those eyes –
they didn't look like his at all, almost blank. Closed. Hermione said it was taken the day they were
going back to Hogwarts and he was sad to say good bye to Harry. He could understand that, but
there was something else. He heard a movement behind him, and turned to see Hermione standing
in the open doorway, holding a cup of tea and looking miserable.

'Just tell me,' he mumbled, staring out across the skyline in front of them. She didn't speak. He
faced her and met her eyes. 'Please, just get it over with.'

'I don't want you to be afraid,' she said, voice barely more than a whisper.

'Hermione,' he said, 'I look like I've had my soul sucked out. It's not as bad as that is it?'

'No ... not quite,' she answered. 'Sirius,' she swallowed, 'Sirius, they think it's you. The charm ... the
secret keeper ... everyone thinks it's you, you're James's best friend, but – but it wasn't. You get
them to use Peter instead. The perfect bluff you call it. But he's a spy – he hands them over. You –
you hunt Pettigrew down and ... and he yells for everyone to hear that you were the secret keeper.
The Ministry... you were attacking him, they put you in Azkaban.'

Sirius blanched. 'How long?' he asked angrily. 'How long before Dumbledore tells them the truth?
How long before they get Wormtail? The traitorous little arsehole!' His rage was filling him up,
like boiling water in his belly, spreading through his limbs and scorching him from the inside - he
had never felt like this, 'After everything James has done for him! Ten fucking years of friendship!
That two-faced bastard, I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!' His hands were shaking as he drew in a
breath. 'I can't fucking believe this! Hermione! How long am I in there? Please tell me I get him for
this, or Moony does.'

'He dies, but Sirius – Dumbledore doesn't know – he thinks you're the secret keeper too. You don't
get a trial. They just lock you up.'

'For how long?' he shouted at her, 'how long before I kill the rat faced bastard?' James, Sirius
thought desperately, Peter you fucking coward.

'Twelve years.'

Hermione had said it so quietly he barely heard her over the traffic from the street below. Her face
was pale, her eyes stretched wide; he was acting like a mad man and he knew it but something had
snapped inside him... Wormtail, they had felt sorry for him, helped him... James had convinced
Sirius to give him a chance and this is how Peter repays him? How could he?

'Sirius,' she said, 'James and Lily are safe. We're going to keep them safe.'

'It doesn't change what he did!' Sirius snarled at her.

'I know, Sirius, but this,' she pointed at him, 'this anger, it's why they think it's you. You go mad
when you find out what he did and yes, you try very hard to kill him. You need to control yourself.
You can't help James if you're blinded by rage.'

Sirius was breathing deeply, trying to still the bubbling, stabbing hate surging through him. Finally,
with fists clenched so tight he thought his fingers would break he managed to ask in a voice of
calm that surprised him, 'Am I insane though? From being in there?' He knew that could happen to
people when exposed to dementors for long periods of time. 'Is that why I look so messed up?' He
couldn't talk about Peter, or he would start yelling again.

'You escape, as a dog, that's how you survive, why you're not mad. You were in your animagus
form a lot, from what you told us. The dementors didn't affect you as badly that way.'

Sirius stood there, frozen in horror at her words, rage simmering away under his carefully
controlled façade. He noticed his cigarette had burnt out, crushed in his coiled fist, his arm and
hand felt stiff as he moved to flick the butt off the edge of the balcony.

'Right,' he said in the same cool and calm tone. 'I'm off to deal with Peter. I'll be in touch to start
organising this Horcrux thing.' He'd actually moved past her before Hermione reacted.

'No, Sirius!' she grabbed his arm. 'Give me ten more minutes. I promise, you can kill Pettigrew
later. But for now we need him. Please! You need to understand my idea - the plan - it won't work
without him. If you stop him now, Lily and James will be in even more danger. This way we know
when the attack is coming.'

Fuck it ... she was right. He knew it. He still wanted to leave and curse Pettigrew to within an inch
of life – but, as she said, that would make it more dangerous for Lily and James. And Harry. He
flopped down on the sofa. His mind was still reeling ... Wormtail was a spy? He gets Lily and
James killed? James, the guy that stood up for him his whole life? No wonder his inner animal was
a rat. The betrayal hurt worse than the idea of James and Lily being murdered - that hadn't
happened yet, and hardly seem real to him, but Wormtail was already spying, sneaking ...
'Fine. Go ahead, then,' he said angrily, crossing his arms and glaring up at her.

'I know Voldemort will be alone and walking up the Potters garden path on Hallowe'en night. I
know where all the Horcruxes are. I know how to destroy them.'

Sirius nodded curtly. 'You said that already.'

'Hallowe'en is the only time I can be absolutely sure of Voldemort's whereabouts. That he will be
alone. If Pettigrew doesn't betray the Potters I don't know where Riddle will be. Even though the
Order has spies, we don't know if he'll ever be alone, not surrounded by Death Eaters. If Peter
doesn't become secret keeper everything will change, and it could change for the worse.' She
matched his glare with one of her own, and Sirius shrunk into the sofa cushions slightly. This
woman was a little intimidating, hands on hips, brows contracted; there was something reminiscent
of Professor McGonagall in the way her lips were pressed together.

'Don't you see?' she continued, 'I have five months to get the Horcruxes and finish them – if you
want to help that would be very useful. And then I'm going to ambush Riddle at Godric's Hollow
and kill him. Harry saw into his mind, he walks along the road that leads to the Potters' in the early
evening. All I have to do is hide and aim well, and he'll be dead.' She paused as though waiting for
it to sink in.

'But if you kill Peter tonight we won't know when Riddle will attack – or where he will be. Lily
and James might survive but Voldemort's reign of terror will continue. Don't you understand?' she
poked him hard in the chest, 'I've been working on this for three years, ever since Harry killed him.
I spent my life watching my friends fall, being tortured, and going mad with fear. If we do this – if
we follow the plan - it will all be over in five more months. No more fear. No more loss.'

Sirius was silent, frozen, the boiling anger slowly draining from him being replaced by something
cold and hard - fear, he realised. Not only fear of taking on such a huge challenge and what would
happen if he screwed it up, but also fear of this witch who stood before him; he couldn't remember
the last time he'd had a telling off like this, especially for something he hadn't even done yet.

It seemed like hours to Hermione as she stood there watching him think it over and waiting for him
to make a decision. She couldn't blame him for wanting to kill Pettigrew - the rat deserved it after
all. But she knew this was the only way they could be absolutely certain, their best chance to rid
the world of the foul creature Tom Riddle had become.

Sirius moved; his hand flashed inside his jacket and removed his wand. Hermione withdrew her
own; she would stun him if she had to. But he just pointed it at the nearly empty flask of
Firewhiskey sitting on the table in front of him and muttered something under his breath; the flask
began to refill itself. When it was full of amber coloured liquid once more, he picked it up and took
a swig. He looked over and held the flask out to her, surprise on his face when he realised she had
her wand on him.

'Really?' he asked, eyebrow quirked, a small smirk playing on his lips. 'I hate that the little traitor is
running free, and I don't like how risky this is going to be – but I'm not a fool.'

She lowered her wand and took the bottle from him. She took a small sip and passed it back. He
patted the sofa next to him as he gulped another healthy measure down. She sat and received the
flask again.

They sat that way for a long time, passing the drink between them, Sirius chain smoking and using
the empty wine bottle as an ashtray. Neither of them spoke; even if they had been capable of
sentences, what would they say?
 PureBlood Alcohol Level

6th June

Sirius woke slowly. His brain seemed to be full of cotton wool, or maybe steel wool was a better
description - every thought seemed to catch, painfully, and then vanish into nothing. He was
supremely uncomfortable and he couldn't feel his left arm; he didn't seem to remember how to
move, His mouth was so dry his tongue felt lumpy and twice its usual thickness; it tasted like an
army of gnomes had trooped through in stocking-feet.

He opened one eyelid, gritty and sore. The light was blinding, as though the world was stabbing
him in the eyeball with something very pointy. He shut it again – much better, he thought. He
rolled over, eyes firmly closed against the evil light, trying to free his trapped arm. It was so numb
it was like it didn't exist.

He rolled a little further and knew a moment of terror as the surface he was lying on vanished from
beneath him. He hit the floor hard, jarring his shoulder against a blunt painful edge on the way
down, the collision setting off an awful rattling and clinking that was murder on his pounding
brain. Then his head slammed into a hard something that rolled away. He groaned as he lay on the
floor, what fresh hell was this? The pain in his head had doubled with the impact.

He cracked his eyes open again, squinting as the light hit them. Right next to his face he
discovered the culprit of his head injury: a wine bottle someone had been using as an ashtray –
probably him. The smell of it made his stomach roll; he pushed it away, feeling a twinge in his
shoulder as he did so. He looked up through his slitted lids, identifying the sofa he had fallen off
and the coffee table that accosted him on his way to the floor.

This was the sitting room of Hermione's hotel, then. It hadn't even occurred to him to wonder
where he was. Suddenly the night before washed over him. Voldemort ... they were going to kill
Voldemort! He sat up suddenly and regretted it immediately; as the room swam around him he let
his eyelids close again. Better, he thought, the walls can't move if I can't see them.

He felt for the cushions of the sofa, slowly hauling himself up onto them and forcing himself into a
sitting position. His head lolled back as he tried to ease the feeling back into his arm, as pins and
needles tingled up and down it, tiny stab wounds as bad as the fiery pounding behind his temples.
He wiggled his shoulder, relieving the pain the coffee table's vicious assault had caused. His head
was throbbing now, like it was full of machinery or miniature Gringotts goblins with clankers.

Water he thought water will help. And like magic he could hear it running. Water – in the
bathroom, he realised. It sounded like heaven. Heaving himself to his feet he stumbled toward the
wonderful, promising sound.

It seemed to take eons to reach… his feet were so heavy. Looking down he realised he still had his
boots on. Jeans too. No shirt though. His addled brain didn't want to try and understand that one.
Not without water. It felt like water was the only thing he would ever need.

When he finally made it across the room and stabilized himself with a firm grip on the bathroom
doorframe, he was presented with a view of Hermione's backside. She was bent double at the sink,
hands clutching either side of the basin, drinking from straight from the tap.

'Great minds,' Sirius said, although it came out as a croak that made his throat ache worse than he
could have believed.
Bent over as she was, Hermione glared up at him from beneath her arm.

'Budge up there,' he grated out.

She removed her mouth from the running water and held her cupped hands under the stream
instead. Coming up with a handful she splashed it over her face. She grabbed a towel from the rail
and scrubbed at her face. Emerging from behind it, still glaring, she said, 'Terrible – Sirius Black –
terrible.'

She turned and left the little room; a moment later he heard the groaning of bed springs and a sigh.

Taking his turn at the tap gratefully, he drank until he felt like the water was going to start coming
out his ears and his brain was floating, before he stood up again. He realised then what an awful
combination cigarettes, whiskey, and unwashed male were for the olfactory senses.

He could hear snores coming from the bedroom; doubting Hermione would mind if he used the
shower, he turned it on. As he waited for the water to heat he looked at himself in the mirror,
bloodshot eyes ringed with dark purplish smudges, and an expression like Death. What had been a
five o'clock shadow at five o'clock the previous evening, was now – he looked at his watch – an
eleven-forty-five shadow. Thankfully the mirror steamed up and he was not forced to look any
longer. He kicked off his boots and the rest of his clothes and stepped into the amazing relief that a
hot shower is to dreadful hangover.

'Kreacher!' Walburga Black called as she pinned her cap to her hair.

CRACK - 'Yes Mistress?' The house elf was bent in a low bow, the hem of his black tea towel toga
brushing the carpet.

'Is everything in order? Guests will be arriving in ten minutes.'

'Yes Mistress, this just came for you Mistress,' said the elf, placing a folded card on the dresser. 'It
was delivered by Miss Bella's owl.'

'Very well, see to the tea. Weak tea breeds a weak heart.'

'Yes Mistress.' CRACK.

Walburga read the card Kreacher had left for her – Bellatrix had been delayed in returning from
France. She would not be attending this month's high tea.

'Kreacher.'

CRACK, 'Yes Mistress?'

'Bellatrix will not be attending today. That brings us to ten.'

'Yes Mistress.' CRACK.

Walburga couldn't help but feel slightly relieved by Bellatrix's RSVP, despite the fact that the girl,
her brother Cygnus's daughter, had always been the jewel in crown for that branch of the family -
beautiful, intelligent, and driven to achieve magnificent things for the House of Black.

When her abomination of a sister had run off with that mudblood, Bellatrix had tried to compensate
her father: she married Rodolphus Lestrange – a man fifteen years her senior with an excellent
lineage - and promised her father she would bear him as many pure and proud grandsons as she
was able. Cygnus, was even more proud of her after that, but there were no Lestrange sons yet, not
even a daughter.

Bellatrix had become enraptured with the Dark Lord only months into her marriage, devoting more
and more time to him, training his followers in the art of dueling. She believed that if she helped
the Dark Lord rise to complete power, no family would ever have to suffer the same shame hers
had. Filth like Tonks would be eradicated.

Cygnus's death eighteen months ago had put Bellatrix over the edge, in Walburga's opinion. In the
last year the girl had become more and more unhinged. Walburga felt that it was because Bellatrix
had failed to fulfill her promises to her father: no children, no revenge brought upon her sister
through the Dark Lord's goals.

Walburga and her husband had been in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims for the last decade,
donating large amounts of gold to his campaign. Wizards should not have to hide from the foolish
muggles as if their opinions mattered or their actions were to be feared, and no wizard of any worth
should ever consort or breed with them. That they were even affecting wizarding society at all was
disgraceful, yet wisps of muggle culture were bleeding through in all sorts of unsettling ways.
Promises of a society that re-established the old ways, the importance of family and lineage, and
the utter repugnance of the non-magical world were politics she was willing to stand behind.

In more recent years, however, she found the way the Dark Lord was moving toward his goal more
and more distasteful. True purebloods did not torture muggles - what was the point? It would be
like torturing a dog. When a creature is too stupid to understand, there is no point in drawing out its
death. And while the muggles are not pleasant, basically a waste of space, they outnumber wizards
by such a huge amount - did the Dark Lord really want to destroy all of them?

These were thoughts Walburga would never voice in front of Bellatrix. One didn't need to agree
with every aspect of a politician's beliefs to support his overall goals, and Bellatrix was one of
Walburga's least favourite people to argue with. The younger woman believed that the mudbloods
and muggles would learn eventually, that it was their own fault, they deserved misery and
suffering for daring to be born. She was so very vocal - in Walburga's opinion, quite undignified in
the way she spouted her views - and her reaction to anyone who questioned her was not suitable of
a lady at high tea. This was the reason Walburga was glad Bella would not be there today. The war
was controlling all their lives now, there was no doubt it would come up in conversation, and
Walburga didn't think she could stand another tirade from her niece on the wonders of the Dark
Lord.

It wasn't just the politics, it was personal, and Bellatrix would never understand that. Walburga
could trace her disenchantment with this whole war back to one night, a night nearly two years ago.
Bellatrix had arrived at Grimmauld Place, to inform Walburga and Orion that their son was
missing - Regulus had failed to turn up at the last meeting and The Dark Lord thought he had
abandoned the Death Eaters. Walburga could still remember the clenching feeling in her chest at
these words. She knew one could not simply resign one's post as a Death Eater. 'He's as good as
dead' Orion had croaked.

Walburga had spent the rest of that month in dread, terrified that every knock on the door would be
the news, the confirmation that her little Regulus was gone. Her brave son. The one who stepped in
when the Bloodtraitor had shamed her. The one who, though he never enjoyed the spotlight like
his incorrigible brother, had presented himself to the wizarding community as the last hope for the
name of Black. He had 'done his duty' – he had done what Bella and her brother-in-law Lucius had
told him was his duty to protect the purebloods from filthy contamination. In his heart, Regulus had
been doing what he thought he should do, his duty to keep the name of Black alive, strong and
toujours pur. It had been brave of him to try.

Regulus was her brave boy, but Walburga had always known that her other son was the strong one.
The one who acted for what he believed in. He had always been too clever, too quick, and too
willing to trust. The impatient fool. He was just too Gryffindor. He'd been gone for six years now.

The confirmation of Regulus's death had never come, but she knew he was gone. It filled her with
regret that he had ever joined the cause, and loathing for those responsible; while the beginnings of
doubt about this war had begun to form in her mind, she still hadn't voiced them. She was safe
while she kept up the façade.

Her husband had died two months after Bellatrix had brought the news of Regulus's desertion.
Although he would never admit it, Walburga had known it was the loss of both his sons that been
the cause.

The Bloodtraitor's betrayal of the family had been hard enough for her to deal with as a mother, but
it was devastating to Orion. Her father Pollux had clearly loved the boy as well, but Orion's father
Arcturus relied on her sons as the continuation of his line. Orion had invested a huge amount of
energy into his heir, and until the child had been sorted into Gryffindor he had been proud of the
boy, pushing aside rambunctious behaviour saying he was too intelligent for the tutors and
governess, and bragging about his wit and ability. While the traitor was at school, the reports piled
up, news of the boy's unsuitable behaviour and unfortunate alliances. Orion had grown more and
more despondent, but was reluctant to give up his hard work and start fresh with his less talented,
much shyer, second son.

Six year ago, when his heir had left Grimmauld Place yelling that he was ashamed of being a Black
and everything it stood for, Orion had accepted the inevitable and begun to prepare Regulus for the
role instead. No amount of eagerness on his second son's part could make up for his natural lack of
confidence. No matter how hard he tried he would never live up to his brother's potential in Orion's
eyes.

Orion's health had been poor for a long time, ever since one of the curses he'd been using to protect
a section of his library had gone wrong. His refusal to tell the healers what he had been doing
meant they had been unable to help him effectively. The effects of the curse would show
themselves every few weeks, and towards the end he was suffering from it nearly every day. When
Bellatrix had told him that his last hope of true legacy was gone, it was no wonder the curse finally
beat him.

Walburga heard a knock two floors below and the crack of Kreacher's apparating to answer the
door. It would be one of her guests. Taking one final look in the mirror, she proceeded down to the
drawing room to receive them.

'In my opinion,' said Walburga's mother-in-law, as Kreacher served her tea, 'the girls these days
need to move on to marriage more quickly. You are happy, are you not Narcissa?'

'I am, Aunt Melania, very happy.' Melania wasn't actually Narcissa's aunt, but her cousin twice
removed - the Blacks had a convention to use "Aunt" or "Uncle" for all older relatives that weren't
your grandparents, not from the difficulty of remembering titles but to bind the family together.

'I think these foolish romantic notions the young women have filled their heads with are the reason
we are facing such a dilution of the blood.'

'Quite right,' came the quavering voice of Aunt Cassiopeia, 'should be cousins only!' She banged
her cane on the table to get Kreacher's attention - Aunt Cassiopeia was quite blind, not to mention
insane. Perhaps that's where Bella gets it from, mused Walburga.

The monthly High Tea had gone rather well in her opinion, until her mother-in-law had brought up
blood purity that was. Although the ladies in attendance were of course purebloods from good
families, they had varying views on such a topic.

They all agreed on one thing however, and that's what kept them meeting, even when the
wizarding world was dividing so thoroughly: they all wanted this war to end. The group of women
had allegiances on both sides of the battle field, but they were all in danger of losing someone, a
husband, a brother, or a child.

Augusta Longbottom worried for her son and daughter-in-law, both Aurors and - not that she would
mention it in mixed company – also members of Dumbledore's society.

The Crouch sisters - both unwed and glaring daggers at Melania for her earlier comments on
marriage - had a brother who was high up in the Ministry and fighting hard against the Death
Eaters' political regime. They were so proud of him. He was very ambitious.

Mrs Burke had a husband, son and grandson all enamoured with the Dark Lord, and was proud of
their importance to his cause.

Narcissa Malfoy had changed since the birth of her darling son. She had always quietly supported
her husband, and never minded his deep involvement with the Death Eaters before, but now – well,
now she slept with Draco next to her and her wand in her hand.

Walburga's sister in-law Lucretia Prewett, Orion's sister, was afraid for her husband. Traitors were
always targeted first in a duel, and three years ago he had turned his back on his family, declaring
his true loyalty to the pureblood cause. His brother hated him for what he had done. Lucretia had
been married to Ignatius for 46 years, weathering all the clashes between their families, but with
the war looming, the rift was too wide and they'd had to pick a side. It hurt her to see him shunned
completely by his brother and the rest of the Prewetts

Lucretia and Ignatius did not have children of their own, but they had always enjoyed his nephews,
especially when they were small boys. And his niece, she may have married a blood traitor but her
children were pure, and with all six of them strong healthy boys it would be good for the gene pool.
She knew it pained her husband that he wouldn't know them. One was even named for him - he'd
been born before Ignatius had shown his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Cassiopeia, of course, didn't really care as long as she didn't have to talk to a mudblood. Melania
was of the same opinion: marry a pureblood and have children, that was your job as a woman of
value.

Melania's nephew's wife, Anita MacMillan, was another story. Her mother was a halfblood, and
Anita had loved her muggleborn grandmother greatly. Anita couldn't understand why people were
on the side of the Dark Lord, and tea with her husband's extended family was stressful for her. She
sat quietly with Narcissa; their baby boys were the same age and they liked to talk together about
motherhood and brag about their babies. She had led a sheltered life, and didn't really grasp the
fear that could drive good wizards to fall to the dark. She knew Lucius was involved and that it
terrified Narcissa; that was enough for Anita to know it was wrong. Narcissa was her friend, and
she was afraid.
 Tin Soldier

6th June

Hermione felt remarkably better when she woke for the second time that day. She shuddered
slightly at the memory of the god-awful rolling and pitching in her stomach that had caused her to
sprint to the loo (or more accurately, stumble with wobbly weak knees) and empty her stomach the
first time she woke. She could still taste echoes of the raw burning of whiskey and wine mixed
with stomach acid at the back of her throat, but her head was clearer now and she no longer felt
dizzy.

She was reminded there was a reason she didn't normally drink more than a few glasses, preferring
to enjoy the flavours and the mood, rather than the blur and absence of thought that others craved.
Last night, though, looking at the man sitting forlornly on her sofa, she had related all too well to
the thoughts of death, betrayal and fear that were going through his head, and she couldn't help but
join him in his silent mind-numbing vigil.

She gave a little murmur of shock as she focused on the small luminous alarm clock next to her bed
- it was three thirty in the afternoon. She scrambled from the bed and towards the little kitchen; she
had put the kettle on and reached for a cup before fully noticing that the room was much cleaner
than the state she'd last seen it in, when she left Sirius passed out on the sofa.

Despite the seriousness of the task ahead, it had been quite amusing to see him sitting, whiskey
flask clutched to his chest like a most prized possession, singing tuneless songs about kicking
Snakeface in the Horcrux and trapping Wormtail in his rat form and shutting him in a room with
McGonagall. He had been quite creative in the many ways he'd thought of to punish Peter for what
he had done, or was that would do? was doing?

That had been before Sirius suddenly fell silent, then with a quiet snore tipped sideways on the
sofa; he'd cracked his head on the wooden arm and the whiskey bottle had up-ended and spilled all
over him, and the sofa. He had snapped awake at the sudden cold liquid leeching all down his
front, mumbled 'that's a waste' and pulled his once-white t-shirt off over his head before crashing
back horizontal again.

Hermione felt a strange mixture of pity, annoyance and the desire to laugh her head off at him for
being an idiot. But as she considered that he had just been told his world was about to end, and they
were the only ones that could stop it, she supposed passing out drunk wasn't the worst reaction a
twenty-one-year-old could have.

She had expected the room to reek of alcohol and cigarettes, but it didn't. Upon inspection, the sofa
was clean, and the empty bottles were gone. Well, he might be a terrible drunk but at least he
cleans up after himself, she thought.

Pouring herself a coffee and taking a seat at the little dining table she noticed a folded piece of
hotel stationary.

Hermione,

I'm not sure if told you that I accepted your call to action last night – my memories are, shall we
say, "clouded" – But I do. Waking up this morning has proved that if I can live through this
hangover, completing the task ahead will be a cinch. Let me know the next step. I'll send Zoff over
later; send your message back with him.
DTV

Yours truly,

Mr Ogden

P.S. seriously need to find a new alias – current one makes me want to hurl.

Zoff? Hermione wondered – must be his owl, she realised. She chuckled at the post script. It was a
good alias, despite its current vomit-inducing capabilities; no one would ever guess who was using
it. She re-read the note, DTV ... what did that stand for? ... She would ask him later.

She turned her mind to the next task. Sirius may say he had accepted her request for help, but he
didn't know the whole story yet. She drummed her fingers on the table top. Would he be so willing
to help when he knew that he would have to apologise to his mother? That he would have to
pretend to be everything he hated?

She was going to have to tell him the true story of Regulus's death, too. She was not looking
forward to that, although he would probably be glad to know his brother had died for the good
cause rather than the dark one. She wasn't sure how much he knew at this point in time; the older
Sirius had known Regulus had tried to back out of the Death Eaters but Hermione didn't know
when he'd got that information, so it was possible that at the moment he just thought Regulus been
killed in action.

Hermione was on to her second pot of tea and nearly finished making notes by the time the dark
grey owl scratched at the window. She opened it to let him in. Hooting quietly, seemingly pleased
with her rapid response, he fluttered across the room and perched on the back of the dinning chair
Hermione had been sitting in, holding out his leg impatiently until she took the small scroll
attached.

Dinner tonight? I want to try muggle room service, can we?

I figure you probably shouldn't be out in public more than is necessary - especially with me.

Best give your reply to Zoff sharpish; he gets a bit pecky if he has to wait.

– Mr Ogden (still feel queasy writing it, but I wouldn't want you to be confused as to who the pushy
bloke with the nasty owl is)

'Ow!' Nasty owl indeed - Zoff had just nipped at her wrist as she'd reached for a scrap of parchment
that was in the pile of her notes. 'Ok, Ok, I'm writing,' she muttered as she penned a quick reply.

Mr Ogden,

Ready when you are. Apparate onto the balcony – I've warded the room.

Room service sounds great. Your owl is evil, and strangely reminiscent of his owner.

–H

When the impatient bird had taken her note off into the warm summer evening's sky, Hermione
returned to her work. She had completed something of a reference chart: Horcrux object, where it
was hidden now, where it was when Harry, Ron and she had found it, how it had been destroyed –
all in tidy columns for instant referral.
On another piece of parchment she had the plan of action, broken down in steps that would be easy
to follow as she talked Sirius through it. It looked so simple when she checked it over – all ordered
and neat on paper, in her tidy handwriting – she wondered if Sirius might read over these meagre,
cold facts and underestimate the job she was asking him to do. Or, she thought as she read number
two on the list - Sirius will talk to his family, convince them he wishes to return now that Regulus
has passed - he might fly off the handle at her presumption.

She waved her wand and murmured 'Geminio', then passed her wand over the copied pages to
leave only the heading visible. She put the originals back in her folder and closed it. She would use
them as prompts and only allow each step to be seen on Sirius's copy after she had explained it to
him.

Sirius knocked on the French doors not long after Hermione had finished her preparations. She
flicked her wand towards the doors as she carried the teapot to the table.

'How's your head?' she asked as he closed the door behind him

'Shit,' he said. She suppressed a small chuckle at his complaint. 'I've never been so rotten the next
day in all my life.'

'You drank enough to floor a hippogriff,' she said, 'so I'm not surprised. I did try to stop you, but
you growled at me so I decided you could learn the hard way.'

'Well, lesson learned,' he said, coming to sit at the table.

Hermione felt a slight pang of pity for him as he slouched forward, elbows resting on the table top,
head cradled in his hands, fingers rubbing little circles at his temples.

'Have you had any painkiller?' she asked; she knew of a number of potions that would sort out his
problem.

'No, had none left, couldn't stagger to the shops, and obviously I'm in no state to brew any at the
moment... would probably poison myself – though that might be an improvement.' He shook his
head slightly, then winced. 'How I ever thought I'd been hungover before this, I'll never know.'

She clucked her tongue in sympathy; she really couldn't blame him under the circumstances, and it
was only about to get worse. Rummaging in her purse she found some ordinary muggle headache
pills. 'Take these,' she said, putting them in front of him with a glass of water.

'Muggle drugs?' he asked skeptically.

'Yes,' she said, 'not as good as wizard ones but they'll do the trick.'

Twenty minutes later Sirius seemed inclined to agree with her. 'You know,' he said after finishing
his cup of tea, 'those pills are alright – the goblins have moved out of my head.'

Hermione looked at him quizzically. 'Goblins?'

'Never mind,' he said.

'So are you ready for the rest of my crazy plan?' Hermione asked him.

He smirked a little. 'Sure – shall we get dinner first?'

'Good idea.' She was willing to delay the imminent depressing conversation a little longer. Once
they had ordered - Sirius chuckling with delight as Hermione talked into the telephone - they
turned to the more serious matter facing them.

'I thought we'd start with the actual Horcruxes - where and what they are - before we get into how
we are going to get our hands on them,' she said, pushing the chart across the table at him.

'Great.' His eyes widened as he took in her meticulous work, 'Er, Hermione... I know you said I'm
not your dad - but, is Moony?'

'Ha!' she laughed, 'I'll take that as a compliment.'

'This is so much like what he would do - are you sure your Mum didn't meet a mysterious stranger
a couple of years ago?' He was laughing under his breath, 'I'll have to ask Moony if he had any
memorable nights with a muggle girl.'

'Ew, that's my mum you're talking about!' said Hermione wrinkling her nose.'Perhaps it looks like
his work because I learnt from him; he was our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in third
year.'

'Oh, well,' Sirius said, 'that would explain it.'

'He was the best teacher we had, he's a good man. It's a shame he doesn't believe it himself. So
hung up on the constrictions of being a werewolf...'

'You know, then? That's good...' Sirius paused thoughtfully. 'Does it get any easier for him?' He
looked worried.

Hermione was touched by the concern in his voice. She didn't want to tell him how hard a life her
Remus had had, the last Marauder, abandoned by his friends, never having work for long enough. 'I
shouldn't really tell you,' she said, 'but yes it gets a bit better later on, he gets married, and has a
son. They are happy together. But it's not for a while yet.'

'Really? To who?' Sirius was pleased that something had gone right for his friend.

'Not telling,' Hermione said with a grin, but she couldn't resist continuing, 'You know her though.'

'Come on! You can't do that,' Sirius whined. 'Secret future knowledge - that's not fair.'

'Deal with it,' Hermione said.

Sirius smirked at her. 'I'll get it out of you,' he promised.

'Yes well, until then shall we concentrate on destroying Voldemort's soul?'

He laughed, 'That will help pass the time.'

'Ok,' she said marshalling her thoughts. 'The first thing is, there is one Horcrux Dumbledore can't
know about.'

'Why?' Sirius was confused. 'I thought you'd told him all of this.'

'No, I told him most of it - but that first one,' she pointed to the first row on the grid, Marvolo
Gaunt's ring, 'it's not just a Horcrux, the stone itself is an artifact, and it has a power that affects
Dumbledore. When he found it the first time it cursed him - it was a slow acting curse and it killed
him in the end.'
Hermione wasn't going to tell Sirius about the Deathly Hallows; she had decided that before she
left. He was the sort of man they would appeal to, and he didn't need to know for the mission
anyway. Best to keep it simple.

'What power? Why can't you just warn him so he'll be careful?' Sirius asked.

'Because he will want it. Because Dumbledore can't always be trusted. His life is full of secrets,
Sirius. He is a powerful wizard and though he always acts for the best - for the greater good -
people have suffered along the way. I'm not telling you any more now,' she said as he looked like
interrupting, 'but when we're finished with this,' she glanced at his face, trying to catch his eye to
prove the truth, 'before I go home I promise I'll tell you everything.'

'Alright,' Sirius said, meeting her pleading look - she saw hesitation flickering in the grey eyes. 'If
you're sure.'

'Ok,' Hermione said, 'so the ring is hidden in a shack in a tiny village called Little Hangleton. I
don't know enough about the enchantments on the building or on the ring, so I want to collect the
rest of the Horcruxes first, and put them all together in the house and then burn it to the ground.'

Sirius smiled. 'That sounds like something I could get behind. Nothing warms the heart like a good
bonfire. When will we do it?'

Hermione took a moment to answer. This was the most dangerous part; she only hoped Sirius's love
of danger and risk-taking would outweigh his intelligence and common sense. 'We need to keep
our mission secret from Riddle until he acts on Pettigrew's information and appears in Godric's
Hollow on the thirty first of October, so we can be there waiting for him.'

'Yes,' Sirius said frowning, 'you told me that last night.'

'I know, it's just that we can't set the fire until he's distracted by the trip to Godric's Hollow; there
must be no way for Riddle to suspect his Horcruxes are destroyed.'

'How are we going to be in both places at once? Are you going to go after Voldemort or set the
fire? I'm happy to have a crack at old Snakeface but I've got to admit I'll be nervous about messing
up. And, er... getting killed,' he finished sheepishly.

'Well, yes,' Hermione said, 'that is something to be nervous about. But no – I want you with me.
Dumbledore is an excellent duelist; I'm going to ask him to ambush Riddle while you and I set the
fire. We'll have to contain the area first, to make sure it doesn't spread - we have to use Fiendfyre
you see.'

'What? You didn't say that. I don't know how to control Fiendfyre! I know a bit of the theory but
nothing more than that,' he was shaking his head looking afraid.

'Well, you've got five months to learn. I'll help you. I can do the actual Fyre casting, but I need help
on the containment; the surrounding area is populated by muggles so we need to make sure it's
totally secure.'

'Merlin, Hermione – this is crazy dangerous,' Sirius said. She looked at him expecting to see doubt,
but instead he had an impish smile on his lips and his eyes were glinting. 'I can't wait.'

Breathing an internal sigh of relief that his common sense was squashed down as far as possible,
she continued. 'So the ring will be left alone until October. The next one is Ravenclaw's diadem.
It's hidden at Hogwarts, so as soon as I meet with Dumbledore – if he ever gets in contact – I'll be
able to get it no problem. Or he will. Either way, no drama there. The last three are slightly more
bothersome but I think we'll manage it with a bit of help from your natural charms.'

'Really?' Sirius raised an eyebrow, 'Are they all being held by beautiful women?'

'Very funny,' said Hermione, with a slight nervous giggle. 'You're going to regret saying that– '

There was a knock at the door and man's voice called, 'Room service.'

Hermione got up to answer the door, admitting the attendant, an older gentleman with greying hair
and wire rimmed glasses, who pushed a servers trolley into the room and began to unload their
dinner. As he finished his task, Sirius stood and extended his hand. With a glance at the gold name
tag pinned to the man's waistcoat, he said politely 'Thank you Walter.'

Walter shook his hand, and when the grasp was relinquished the little man looked at the note that
seemed to have appeared in his hand. 'No sir,' he said with a slight bow of his head, 'Thank you.'
He left the room with a smile and a 'Have a lovely evening' to both of them.

'Ha!' Said Sirius triumphantly 'I've always wanted to do that – you just can't pull it off with sickles.'

'How much did you give him?' Hermione asked shaking her head at his amusement

'Buggered if I know,' he said with a shrug, 'but how cool did I look doing it?'

Hermione just smiled. 'Boys,' she muttered. Opening a bottle of wine from the small cupboard next
to the fridge and pouring a glass, she asked, 'did you want one?'

'Not if you paid me,' Sirius said, turning pointedly away from her as she brought the glass to the
table. 'I'm having flashbacks already.'

She chuckled. 'Alright, so where were we?' she asked as they began to eat.

'You were telling me how all the Horcruxes are guarded by beautiful women and it will be my
unbearable task to seduce each one so I may steal it from them. It will be difficult but I'm sure I'll
cope. Anything for a good cause.'

'Generous,' Hermione snorted, 'but as one is your mother and the other two are your cousins, you
might want to rescind your offer.'

He swallowed nosily. 'My mother? I can't talk to her! How could you not know about my family?
She fucking hates me – and the feeling is mutual.'

'Ok then, we'll come back to her. Hufflepuffs' cup is in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts–'

Sirius froze, a piece of steak halfway to his mouth. 'You want to break into Gringotts?' he asked
incredulously. 'I was right the first night... you are mad.'

'I've done it before,' she said. 'That's how we got the cup the first time, polyjuice and a helpful
goblin – bad mess, but we escaped on a dragon,' she reminisced almost fondly.

Sirius nearly choked. 'A dragon? The big one from the high security vaults you mean? He's a
vicious bastard, I lost half my hair to him when I was a kid, must have only been about eight.
Father had taken me along for a day of learning to be a man, he did that quite often, it was awful -
well, learning to be his kind of man is – but very dull. I got bored and wandered off while he was
looking for something in the vault. Then boom! singed head. It grew back, though,' he said
unnecessarily, shaking his long dark hair so it flicked about his face.
Hermione cleared her throat. 'Er... yes, hair loss aside – we'll have an easier time of it now because
the goblins aren't being controlled by the Death Eaters yet. I impersonated Bellatrix last time, and
if it comes to that I'll do it again. Although it might not be necessary.'

'Why?'

'Well it depends… As you can see,' she pointed her finger at the list in front of him, 'the locket is at
Grimmauld Place.'

'Er ... why?' Sirius went pale. 'Oh ... merlin, I had no idea Regulus was that far up the ranks -
Voldemort gave him a bit of soul to look after too?'

'Um... no, Sirius, he took it. That's how he died. Kreacher – '

' – Reg is dead?' Sirius's face had gone from pale to grey, his tone suffused with disbelief and pain.

'Oh Jesus,' Hermione said. Sirius didn't know Regulus was dead? But he had died two years ago.
Did his parents even know? But ... oh god, what was she supposed to do now? She reached out and
grasped Sirius's hand that was resting on the table. 'Sirius,' she said quietly, 'I'm so sorry. I thought
you knew.'

'When?' His voice cracked.

This was not how Hermione wanted to do this. Why didn't he know? Surely his parents had noticed
that Regulus hadn't been home in two years. Maybe they knew and just hadn't told Sirius? But
Snape ... or Pettigrew, someone would have told Dumbledore. Well Pettigrew wouldn't, but he
would know. It made her slightly angry to think that not only was he a traitor but he couldn't even
do Sirius the courtesy of letting him know his brother had vanished. But, she supposed that would
blow his cover - knowing which Death Eaters were missing was probably a bit of a giveaway.

But then Snape – why hadn't he told Dumbledore? He had been spying for the Order since the
prophecy had been made, and that was a year ago now. He must have noticed Regulus wasn't
around anymore; but then Snape would never do any favours for Sirius and if he suspected Regulus
had left because he didn't want to be involved anymore... well, that would make Sirius happy,
something Snape would definitely try to avoid.

'When?' Sirius asked again in that same broken voice.

'No one is really sure,' Hermione said quietly, her eyes on their clasped hands, feeling distinctly
awkward when she remembered he'd only known her for four days. She hoped he wouldn't hold
this against her. 'Sometime in 79, but Sirius... he didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore; he died
doing the same thing we are. He found out about the Horcruxes, one of them anyway. He took it –
but was killed in the process. It's hidden at Grimmauld Place. It was still there when the Order used
the house as headquarters in the second war.'

'He ... he tried to stop Voldemort?' It was hardly even a whisper, as Sirius tried to process the
information.

'Yes. He realised how wrong it all was. How wrong your family was.'

'But why didn't he come to me? I could have helped him. He – why? Fuck, Reg, you git ... I should
have realised ... I haven't seen him for so long ... he thought I hated him ...' Sirius had pulled his
hand from Hermione's and covered his face. He drew a deep shuddering breath, but didn't speak;
he was very still, breathing slowly, obviously trying to control himself. Hermione wasn't sure if he
was restraining tears or anger - Both probably, she thought.
She just sat, silently watching him, waiting for one or both of the emotions to win out over his
control. She was annoyed at herself for springing this on him, for not even considering that he
might be hurt - the older Sirius had spoken of Regulus's death with disdain, calling him a fool for
becoming caught up with the Death Eaters in the first place. Hermione had thought she would be
giving him good news: Regulus was more like his big brother than Sirius had ever known, because
he had perished for the light side. But no.

She wanted to tell him the story, so he would know the sacrifice Regulus had made, and how he
had fought - just as she, Harry and Ron had - to cut Riddle's ties to life. Sirius should be able to be
proud and relieved that his little brother had followed his own example, rather than the family's,
but now the grief would overpower it.

'Do you know how it happened?' Sirius's quiet shaky voice broke into her thoughts.

'Yes,' she said. He was not looking at her – his eyes focused on his half-finished meal. 'Do you
want to know?'

'I ... I, not really … but yes. I think I should.'

'You should,' Hermione agreed. 'He was brave. Very much the Gryffindor like his brother.'

The corner of Sirius's mouth turned up. 'I never would have believed it.'

Hermione drew a deep breath; thinking it was best just to get the horrible story over with she began
to speak. 'When Harry went with Dumbledore and found the locket in our sixth year, Harry knew it
would be dangerous, but I don't think even Dumbledore was prepared for the challenges they
would face.

'They had to cross an underground lake in a little boat to get to an island in the middle: that was the
first part of the defence, that the boat could only carry one of-age wizard, but you need two people
to take the locket from its hiding place.

'The locket was on the island, protected in a basin filled with potion. The potion was the second
defence; they tried everything to reach the locket at the bottom but the potion was impassable, it
couldn't be vanished or transformed or anything. Harry told me Dumbledore said the only option
was to drink it - and so he did, but Harry had to force it down his throat.'

Sirius's eyes grew wide at this. 'Why would Dumbledore do that to Harry? He's only a kid!'

'Would you rather Harry drank it?'

His look of outrage receded slightly.

'The potion drove Dumbledore out of his mind but Harry kept at him, until the basin was empty.
Dumbledore was dying of thirst, but no water could be conjured; Harry had to scoop water from
lake. That's when Voldemorts final defence came out: the lake was full of inferi, they climbed
from the water. Dumbledore was just recovered enough to drive them back with fire, and they
escaped - but discovered they had gone through all of that for a fake locket. There was a note
inside, signed R.A.B.'

'Regulus Arcturus Black,' Sirius murmured under his breath.

'Yes, well we had no idea who that might be at the time. Later on, the Ministry had fallen, the
Death Eaters' number one target was Harry, and we were hiding at Grimmauld Place. Harry figured
out that R.A.B. could be Regulus.
'Then I remembered that we had found a locket in the drawing room cabinets two years earlier. But
we'd thrown it away – we were purging the house of all its evil junk you see. Kreacher hated that -
he'd been trying to preserve the Black Family treasures, so we summoned him then and asked if
he'd stolen it back., He called it "Master Regulus's locket" and he didn't want to talk, but Harry was
his master – because you left everything to him in your will – so Kreacher had to tell us the story.

'Regulus had come to him proud to help Riddle's cause; Riddle needed an elf and he had
volunteered Kreacher, so Kreacher did his duty and went. The reason Riddle needed him was to
test the defences he placed on the hiding place of his soul. He forced Kreacher to drink the potion,
then left him there with the Inferi. But Regulus had ordered Kreacher to come home afterward, so
by elf magic – it's amazing stuff - he was able to disapparate back to Grimmauld Place.

'Regulus was appalled when Kreacher told him what had happened, and he was afraid, afraid of the
strength Riddle had, and so convinced Kreacher to take him to the cave. Regulus drank the potion
himself, and had once again ordered Kreacher to go home after, but he had also made him switch
the locket with a fake one he had brought with him. Kreacher of course had to follow these orders,
but he planned to take Regulus back with him,' she paused trying to gauge his reaction, but he was
still frozen, head bowed.

Hermione continued softly, 'But the thirst caused by the potion drove Regulus to the water, and
Kreacher didn't know how to fight Inferi; he was helpless as they pulled Regulus under the
surface.'

Sirius made a strange noise, almost like a hiccough, but didn't speak.

'Kreacher went home, and tried to destroy the locket. But he couldn't. I'm not sure if at this point he
will still be trying or not - but it's somewhere at Grimmauld Place anyway, either with Kreacher or
in the drawing room cabinet. After Kreacher had told us this, we told him we were fighting for the
same thing as Regulus. He was a changed elf. He even fought Death Eaters in the final battle. He
just needed someone to care, as Regulus had always done.'

'Can't we go back and stop him?' Sirius said suddenly, voice starting in the empty, heavy silence of
the room. 'Can't we use your Timeturner? Then we could get the locket from the cave. And
Regulus could come join the Order.'

Hermione was taken aback - how had she not thought of this as a possible reaction? They couldn't
do it, she knew that. She had no idea when in '79 Regulus had volunteered Kreacher, and if by
some miracle they were able to contact Regulus in the small period of time between Kreacher
returning and the second trip to the cave, who was to say if Regulus would even accept help?

'No. Sirius, no one knows when this happens. I did try to find out from Kreacher before I left but he
doesn't remember when it was, just that the night was cold. I'm sorry - if I thought we could fix
this I would do it. I promise,' she lied.

Sirius got up from the table abruptly, pulling his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and crossing the
room to the doors to the balcony.

'Are you leaving?' Hermione asked hesitantly.

He didn't answer, and she didn't move. She really wasn't sure how to talk to him about this.
Perhaps he just needed time to come to terms with it. So she let him go.

Sirius didn't leave. He stood on the narrow balcony smoking and staring at the lights of the city.
The sun had finally set, and London was coming alive.
Hermione watched him through the door, not wanting to interrupt. After his second cigarette he
came back inside, plonked himself in his chair and looked at her. 'Ok, so the locket is with my
mother. How are we going to get it?'

Hermione was thunderstruck. Really? He just wanted to carry on as though nothing had happened?
'Sirius ... if you don't want to do this now I'll understand. We can finish it another time.'

'No. I want to. I feel so fucking helpless at the moment. This mission of yours is keeping me going.
Work sucks, and the Order is losing; people are dying. I'll do whatever it takes to sort this shit out.
I'm over being useless,' he growled.

He looked frightening – Hermione could see a shadow of the hardened man she'd known in his
determined face. 'Well, if you're sure.'

'I am.'

'Ok,' she pointed at the chart she had made, 'both the locket and the diary can be retrieved with a bit
of cunning. I know you hate your mother, but the best way to get both of these will be for you to
pretend you have seen the error of your ways.'

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat but did not interrupt.

'If you can convince her you want to return to the family then you'll be able to find the locket. With
a bit of luck, you'll go to the Malfoy's on some social engagement and search for the diary; you
know what Lucius is like, if he thinks you're impressed he might even hint that he has something
important of Riddles, I don't know. Getting back in with your family will also give you access to
the Black vault at Gringott's, and that's only three down from the Lestrange's. You'll be able to
imperious the goblin that takes you and get him to open their vault instead.'

'Oh ... is that all?' Sirius said under his breath,

'I know it's a lot to ask – but can you think of a better way?'

'No,' he shrugged helplessly, 'but I really don't think I can convince my mother that I'm sorry -
because I'm really, really not.'
 Termites and Tall Tales

16th June

'That will be all for this evening,' Dumbledore said from the head of the long wooden table,
looking around at the Order members crowded into the basement of the Hogshead.

Chairs began to scrape over the floor as their occupants got up from the table. 'Alastor, may I have
a word?' Dumbledore called to a weathered man who was resting heavily on a walking stick and
talking sternly to two dark haired young men who had their heads bowed, as though they were
overcome by remorse.

Their act - as it obviously was - was destroyed the moment Alastor Moody glanced in
Dumbledore's direction. Their heads snapped up again, faces working furiously as they finally
dared look at each other obviously trying to contain their mirth.

'You two, out!' barked Moody, returning his glare to them. Moody steadied himself on his new leg,
making sure he had his balance before taking his weight off his walking stick. He then flicked the
thick cane in his grasp like a sword and proceeded to whack both Potter and Black with it before
they could escape his reach. 'Bloody children!' Moody said angrily as Potter pulled the door closed
behind them, leaving Dumbledore and Moody alone.

'A man of your experience, Alastor, must know that they will only continue to annoy you for as
long as you agree to be annoyed,' Dumbledore said, his beard twitching.

Moody let out a growl of frustration, 'I just want to bang their too-clever heads together.'

'As do we all,' Dumbledore agreed, 'but they have enough to offer that I'm willing to postpone that
moment.'

Moody almost smiled, 'The idiots would probably think it was hilarious anyway,' he grunted.
Dumbledore ignored this, thinking privately that it was likely to be true.

'Alastor,' he said, 'I have made a promising contact.'

'Oh? Promising how?'

'She has information on Voldemort's weaknesses,' Dumbledore told him.

Moody's scarred face looked reluctantly interested, 'Voldemort has weaknesses?'

'Apparently so.'

Moody scratched his stubbled chin, 'Are you sure she's not a plant by the Death Eaters?' he asked
warily, 'What proof has she provided?'

In answer, Dumbledore pulled a small glass vial from the inner pocket of his robes. 'These,
Alastor, he said, handing the bottle to Moody. He moved to an old chest of drawers in the corner of
the basement room and opened the top drawer. Taking a shallow stone basin from the interior he
placed it on the table. 'These scenes will not make a lot of sense at first but I assure you
understanding will come toward the end.'

Moody nodded and uncorked the vial, tipping the contents into the basin. The memory swirled
slowly, clouding and clearing in turn.

'After you Alastor,' Dumbledore said with a sweep of his hand. Moody tipped forward into the
memories and vanished. Dumbledore followed swiftly.

As Moody found his balance in their new surroundings, he recognized the Great Hall at Hogwarts.
It was full of students, and he was standing in a line of children all looking up at a boy sitting on a
stool in front of the rest of the school.

'SLYTHERIN!' the hat on his head called. A table to Moody's left erupted in cheers.

'Granger, Hermione,' called Minerva McGonagall, reading from a long parchment scroll. The girl
next to Moody in the line walked briskly to the stool. She jammed the hat onto her head as soon as
she sat down, looking very excited.

'GRYFINDOR!' the hat called. She jumped up and headed toward the cheering table on the far right
of the hall.

'Greengrass, Daphne,' Minerva called and the great hall vanished, the golden candles and the
applause faded to –

Green. That was all Moody could see as the new scene presented itself: green on all sides. As his
surroundings became more focused he realised he was in a tree - literally in it, since he was not
solid. There was a piney branch poking right through his midriff, or maybe fir… his eyes followed
the bough out to see little lights and festive baubles hanging at the end of it, and he understood. It
was a Christmas tree. The air smelt of pine, and something thick and sweet, and smoke, too. He
could hear voices – familiar voices.

'What else, m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at
Hallowe'en?' said a man'svoice he couldn't quite place.

'I did hear a rumour.' said a female's voice he was sure he knew – who was that?

'Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?' That one he recognised. It was Minerva McGonagall,
sounding typically exasperated. At that, he suddenly realised who the first female voice belonged
to – it was Rosmerta. They must be in the Three Broomsticks at Christmas, but why was he in a
Christmas tree?

He looked around and saw Dumbledore standing beside him, also impaled on a tree branch, his
head tilted toward the voices. Moody peered around the other side of the tree, and there she was,
the Granger girl from the sorting, she looked older, but not by much. She was sitting with a red
haired boy, at a table jammed between the tree and the window of the pub, also listening intently.

'Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?' Rosmerta's voice asked.

Minister? Moody was burning with curiosity. That was a man speaking; true, Bagnold was getting
to the end of her time – but he didn't know of any sure candidate in line as her replacement. He tied
to peer around, but the images from the memory faded to a blur outside the girl's line of sight. The
conversation was still continuing.

'All the same,' said the Minister, 'they are here to protect you all from something much worse…
We all know what Black is capable of.'

'Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,' said Rosmerta. 'Of all the people to go over to the
dark side Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought… I mean, I remember him when he was boy at
Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much
mead.'

What was this? Black had switched sides? This was valuable information, Moody realised. He was
surprised though - sure the kid was a pain in the arse, but he was a dedicated Auror, and was
known to hate his frankly awful family with a passion.

'Of course they were,' the Minister was saying, 'Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends.
Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they
named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea of course; you can imagine how the idea would
torment him.'

'Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?'

'Worse even than that, m'dear,' said the Minister. 'Not many people are aware that the Potters'
knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore who was of course working tirelessly against
You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James
and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an
easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.'

'How does that work?' Rosmerta asked.

Moody was perplexed. Why would it torment the Potter boy to know his godfather was a traitor?
The kid was barely a year old; to say he had no idea of the situation was fairly redundant. When
had this happened – last Christmas? The year before? It couldn't be any longer ago, or there
wouldn't be a Potter boy. The girl, Granger, she must be another school friend of theirs, but … no,
that didn't work, they said Black had left school.

A new voice was explaining the workings of the secret keeper charm, but Moody was barely
listening, thinking furiously… "not many people knew Voldemort was after the Potters"? No, that
couldn't be right, the tense was wrong, he still is after them, and James had been in the meeting not
half an hour ago. Something didn't quite fit… This is in the future, he realized suddenly, that was a
different Minister, and no telling how old baby Harry must be. This was insane. Black turns to the
dark side? He never would have thought it. And if this story was going where he thought it was,
well, he didn't just turn.

'But James Potter insisted on using Black?' Rosmerta said.

'He did,' said the Minister. 'And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been
performed…'

'Black betrayed them?'

'He did indeed,' said the Minister, though his voice faded out as the Christmas tree around Moody
began to blur once more – but only for a moment, and the scene resettled itself. The Minister was
speaking still, or perhaps again.

'Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eye witnesses – muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later –
told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, "Lily and James Sirius! How
could you!" And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to
smithereens…'

The Potters were dead? Black got them killed? This was wrong… it had to be wrong.

The world was dissolving again, showing moments of blackness before a new scape formed - a
dark room, with dirty wooden floors. Moody looked around at the boarded windows, broken
furniture, and James Potter – no, that couldn't be right, Granger was there looking the same as in
the pub, and the same red-haired boy was lying on a large canopied bed. Was this boy Harry then?
He looked twelve or thirteen. How had Dumbledore got these memories? Or should he even call
them "memories" - it was at least ten years on the future!

There were three men in the room too. One lay in a crumpled heap of black robes and hair by the
scratched and stained wall, and Moody couldn't see his face. Another, in Azkaban robes with
matted filthy hair that hung past his shoulders, was crouched over the third man; Moody was
slightly shocked when he recognised the older face of Remus Lupin. Lupin got to his feet and the
prisoner moved away.

'Thank you, Harry,' said Lupin.

He was right, then, it was the Potter boy. Why did Dumbledore have memories of things that hadn't
happened yet?

'I'm still not saying I believe you,' Potter snapped back.

And then the prisoner spoke, 'Then it's time we offered you some proof.' He turned to the redhead,
'You, boy - give me Peter, please. Now.'

"Red" as Moody had come to think of him, held a rat in his hands, cradled close to his chest; he
seemed to think the prisoner was insane. 'Come off it,' he said. 'Are you trying to say you broke out
of Azkaban just to get your hands on Scabbers? I mean…' he looked at the other two kids, 'Okay,
say Pettigrew could turn into a rat – there are millions of rats – how's he supposed to know which
one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?'

They think Pettigrew is an animagus?

'You know, Sirius, that's a fair question,' Lupin said. 'How did you find out where he was?'

Sirius? That skeletal creature was Black? He had escaped from Azkaban? How on earth?

Black pulled something from inside his tattered filthy robe, and Moody moved forward to get a
better look at the crumpled newspaper clipping. It was a family - the Weasley family it said - and
there was the boy, the one that was lying on the bed. So he was a Weasley then; that explained the
hair. In the picture, a rat was perched on the boy's shoulder, the same rat he now clutched to his
chest. Moody was startled from his reading of the article when Lupin's hand suddenly appeared
through his chest to point at the clipping. 'My God,' he said, 'His front paw.'

'What about it?' asked the Weasley kid, sounding defensive.

'He's got a toe missing,' Black said

'Of course,' Lupin said, almost in a whisper, 'so simple … so brilliant …he cut it off himself?'

'Just before he transformed. When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I had
betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand
behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself, and sped down into the sewer with
the other rats.'

'Didn't you ever hear, Ron? The biggest part of Peter they found was his finger.'

The scene blurred slightly, and re-formed; Lupin was still speaking. 'There's one certain way to
prove what really happened – Ron,' he looked at Weasley, 'give me that rat.'

'What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?' Weasley asked.

'Force him to show himself. If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him.' Lupin took the rat as Weasley
held him out. 'Ready, Sirius?' Lupin asked as the rat twisted and squealed in his hand; Black
approached Lupin, wand held out.

'Together?'

'I think so…' Lupin counted to three, and blue-white light burst from their wands; the rat was
trapped in the path of it, and he began to grow, alarmingly fast, until suddenly a small twitching
man stood before them.

'Well, hello Peter, long time no see,' Moody cast an odd look toward Lupin. He almost sounded
pleased to see the snivelling weak grubby wizard.

Moody was acquainted with Pettigrew, but didn't know him well enough to be sure this was the
same man; he hadn't even recognized Black, a man he saw every day at work. When he spoke,
though, Moody knew it was Pettigrew. 'S-Sirius … R-Remus … my friends … my old friends …'
he said.

'We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You
might have missed the finer points while you squeaking down there on the bed.'

'Remus,' Pettigrew gasped, 'you don't believe him, do you? He tried to kill me, Remus.'

'So we've heard. I'd like to clear one of two matters up with you, Peter, if you'd be so –'

'He's come to try and kill me again!' The scene blurred a second time only to reform in the same
setting, although Lupin and Black's calm demeanour seemed to have been pushed to the limit, they
were both holding a shoulder of Pettigrew, they pushed him to the floor,

'You sold Lily and James to Voldemort! Do you deny it?' Black said loudly.

Pettigrew began to cry… 'Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord … you have no
idea … he has weapons you can't imagine … I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and
Remus and James. I never meant it to happen, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me.'

'DON'T LIE!' Black shouted at him. 'YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A
YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!'

'He – he was taking over everywhere! Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?' Pettigrew
snivelled.

'What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed? Only innocent
lives, Peter!

'You don't understand! He would have killed me!'

'THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED, DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS AS
WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!' Black looked ready to burst.

And then Remus spoke in a voice of deathly calm, 'You should have realised, if Voldemort didn't
kill you, we would. Good-bye Peter.'
The musty broken room faded from view, in a manner Moody was becoming quite used to. They
were now in a Hogwarts classroom - Charms, Moody thought. The three kids were there all with a
flask of what looked like vinegar before them – they looked much older, especially Weasley, who
stood much taller than the other two now. They were having an intense discussion in whispers.
Potter was talking and the other two were leaning to listen – Moody moved closer.

'…and the Diary are gone, so Dumbledore reckons there are four more Horcruxes, and he said I
can go with him if he finds one of them. One will be Hufflepuff's cup and there's the Locket as
well. We'll have to go after the snake last though, cause it's normally with him, and there's still one
we don't know about. It might be something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's though.'

The other two kids had their mouths hanging slightly open as they listened to him, then before any
more was said, before Moody could even understand what they were talking about, the swirling
motion started again.

Even knowing they were in a memory, Moody flinched his intangible wand up to protect his
intangible self, as shouts and spells flew in the unmistakable sounds of a battle. Where were they?
Hogwarts… the Great Hall again. And this wasn't just a small skirmish, there were hundreds of
people dashing, diving, and flinging spells, and then a loud voice rang out, 'Protego!'

'He's alive!' echoed around him in whispers and shouts, before the whole crowd went suddenly
silent and still; now Moody could see Voldemort standing menacingly in the middle of the room.
The crowd was watching, fear etched on every face.

'I don't want anyone else to try to help!' It was Potter, calling through the room. He looked older
again, but it was hard to judge exactly. The boy – or young man under the circumstances - was
dirty and bleeding, his messy hair uncut and shaggy, and his clothes ripped and singed; he looked
like he'd been fighting for days.

Voldemort said something Moody couldn't hear from his vantage point; he started forward
involuntarily. He wanted to hear everything, to watch the boy that was brave enough to stand in
front of Voldemort - not just stand, but stand and smile, because he was smiling now, and speaking
as they circled each other - but as Moody took another step closer a hand caught his upper arm. He
jumped and turned, reflexes screaming as if he were suddenly present in this time, but it was
Dumbledore.

'Alastor, just wait,' he said, 'it's over in a minute.' And sure enough, they circled and hissed insults
at each other, and then they stopped; the Potter boy was trying to convince Voldemort of
something. Both wands were still held steady, aimed at the other's heart, and then out of nowhere
two voices at the same time burst out,

'Avada Kedavra!'

'Expelliarmus!'

A massive flash of red and green, and then brilliant gold, and as the light faded the Potter boy
raised his hand - he held two wands. Voldemort's body collapsed to the ground, and he was dead.
Dead at the hand of a kid who looked barely of age. Where had they gone wrong? Moody thought
as the hall filled with cheers and shouting, and began to waver. When the hectic celebration swirled
away, the scene that replaced it couldn't have been more different.

He and Dumbledore were in a small silent study, empty except for Granger, sitting at a desk. A
pocket watch was in her hands, and she stared to the middle distance, apparently a thoughtful pause
from the paperwork on her desk. Moody leaned over her shoulder to get a better look: it wasn't a
pocket watch, but an hourglass filled with odd reddish metallic sand. He knew what it was, what it
had to be, but Timeturners were normally smaller, the sand usually white, and they were made
from gold not bronze. He looked at the other things on her desk: a newspaper, a few books and
notebooks stacked, and a handwritten list on top:

Horcruxes

Riddle's Diary – Malfoy Manor – destroyed June 1993 – By Harry Potter

Slytherin's Locket – 12 Grimmauld Place – destroyed December 1997 – By Ron Weasley
Hufflepuff's Cup – Lestrange Vault Gringotts – destroyed May 1st 1998 – By Hermione Granger
Ravenclaw's Diadem – Room of Requirement – destroyed May 2nd 1998 – By Vincent Crabbe
(accidental)
Nagini – destroyed May 2nd 1998 – By Neville Longbottom
Voldemort – destroyed May 2nd 1998 – By Harry Potter

Moody was mesmerised by the chart, the dates … he glanced at the Daily Prophet lying next to it,
and saw the date across the top - Friday April 27th 2001.

Suddenly Moody felt himself pitched backwards, the neat little study vanishing from sight. He took
a great shuddering breath as he landed in the present once more, the basement floor feeling
reassuringly solid underfoot. His mind was whirling - those memories were from the future!

'Pettigrew is a spy?' were the first words out of his mouth. That was the most important piece of
information - no wonder the Order was losing.

'It certainly looks that way,' said Dumbledore gravely.

'So what's the plan? We don't want to spook him, but he's got to be stopped. I can't believe that fat
little no-talent is an animagus.'

'Alastor, I'm going to ask you to wait until you've spoken with Hermione, before making any plan
concerning Mr Pettigrew. She should be here any moment.'

'She was in the future – and she's here? Albus, what on earth is going on? If this is true… well, we
could stop Voldemort. I don't understand though - what are Horcruxes? I've never heard of them.

'Padfoot, you're not at school anymore!' Remus said, frustrated at Sirius's continuing laughter.
'Honestly, termites? What were you thinking, mate? I'm surprised Moody didn't hex your bollocks
off!'

Remus loved his friends - really - but sometimes he felt like the overworked warden, convincing
them to take things seriously, to focus on their tasks, and most of all, to not play childish jokes on
the utterly terrifying deputy leader of the Order and Head Auror, Alastor Moody. Sometimes
Remus wondered if they enjoyed punishment a little too much.

Sirius's shoulders were shaking as he tried to control himself enough to take a drink of his
firewhiskey.

'And James is lucky Lily wasn't there or she would have done the same!' Remus added.

The small amount of control Sirius had regained was lost once more at this. Tears rolling down his
cheeks. 'Moony … mate,' he wheezed out, 'we really didn't know it would be that bad.' He took a
deep steadying breath. 'Hagrid said they would only go for elm; we thought they'd just stay on his
leg! We didn't know half the furniture was made from elm as well.'
Remus and Sirius were in the taproom of the Hogshead. James had just left, headed home to Lily
and the baby. Since they had gone into hiding he and Lily took turns attending the Order meetings.
Sirius and James hadn't seen each other in a month, and had come prepared to have a bit of fun to
make up for lost time. Remus couldn't really blame them, and as Sirius banged his hand on the
table and howled, he could hardly keep from laughing himself.

'Loosen up Moony, or I might have to start eating with someone else every night.'

'You say that like it's a threat. Come on Padfoot, you know you need me.'

'Need you for what? Oh – I know – for your manners.'

Remus quirked his eyebrow. 'My manners?' He had no idea what Sirius was on about.

'Yeah, old Wilfred at the Snitch and Kneazle, he said it was a shame you weren't there the other
night cause he likes you for your manners.'

Remus chuckled, 'You know why you need me – without me making you look good, you'd never
get a date.'

Sirius shrugged. 'I'll have you know I managed perfectly fine over the last two weeks.'

'Really? With who? The usual clones I suppose?' Remus had quite the distaste for Sirius's
behaviour toward women.

'No,' said Sirius proudly, 'she was kind of the opposite actually.'

'Oh, only one? What's her name then?' Remus knew his friend wouldn't remember; he just liked to
call him out. He wondered if one day enough guilt would get Sirius to treat women as people
instead of toys.

'Never you mind,' said Sirius gruffly.

'Knew it.' Remus smirked at his friend, expecting the standard huffy reaction, but surprisingly
Sirius didn't fight him on it. He was even more shocked when Sirius changed the subject
completely.

'So, what's Dumbledore got you doing?' Sirius asked him, determinedly ignoring the smug look on
Remus's face.

'Same thing I've been doing for weeks: legal prep. Getting enough information together that none of
the Death Eaters can try to go free after the war. You know that Pads, we were just talking about it
at the meeting.'

'Oh ... Right, how's it going, I meant. Do you think you've nearly got them all wrapped up?'

Remus was slightly perplexed, Sirius had never asked him how his paperwork was going. It was
tantamount to asking how he was finding a History of Magic essay. He must really not want to talk
about something. The girl? Remus wondered, though it seemed unlikely. 'Um ... yeah, getting there
I think – is everything okay Padfoot? You've never shown an interest before.'

'Course I have, I –

'No, you haven't,' Remus interrupted. 'What's going on?'

'It's nothing Moony, forget about it,' Sirius's previous cheerfulness had vanished. He threw back the
rest of his firewhiskey, looking sour.

They were quiet for a while; Remus refilled his own glass and then Sirius's, watching his friend
thoughtfully. Sirius had always been susceptible to bouts of moodiness, and they were generally
caused by something important - well, something important to him anyway – and Remus was
usually aware of the problem: a loss at Quiddich, a letter from his mother, a fight with James over
who Minerva McGonagall had been more angry with (both boys, of course, wanting the title). But
never his love life.

The women Sirius associated with were by and large only after him for his Black Family gold or
because he looked good on their arm. Hardly honourable reasons, so Sirius didn't care what they
did or said about him. Remus had suggested that if Sirius were to look for more than shag he might
find someone who wanted the same, but Sirius insisted that was too much effort. Remus thought
privately that his friend was just too chicken to give anything real a go for fear of dealing with
actual emotion. So if Sirius was so eager to distract Remus from his line of questioning, it couldn't
be because of some woman he'd met in a bar. Something else must be bothering him.

'Sirius,' he asked, 'What's happened?'

'Fine,' Sirius snapped, a small glint appearing in his eyes. 'The other night I was at the Snitch, and
this girl came in – pretty thing – she came and sat by me.'

Remus raised his eyebrows. 'How unusual!' he said sarcastically.

'Do you want me to tell you or not?'

'Sorry, go ahead.' Remus said.

'Well, she wasn't the normal bird you get in there, she was dressed like a muggle - but not the
trampy kind, hardly any perfume - and I'd never seen her before, or anyone that looked like her.
Thought she might be foreign, but no, she was British.'

'You don't have the best memory mate – '

'Will you be quiet?' Sirius's temper seemed to be improving, 'So I'm sitting there completely dumb,
couldn't think of a thing to say to her –'

As Remus listened to Sirius's tale of the strange girl in the pub he was having trouble not rolling his
eyes. He had given his friend far too much credit with his earlier internal assessment of his dark
mood. It was a girl after all.

– 'Then if you'll believe it, she pats me on the head and disapparates. She was a right laugh up until
that point. So … I dunno.' He shrugged helplessly.

Remus failed in his efforts to keep his eyes from rolling. 'Honestly, Padfoot! So you got turned
down, what's the big deal?' Remus was laughing now. 'It happens to most people, really!'

Sirius looked injured, 'She patted me on the head! Like a sodding dog!'

'Well ...' said Remus ironically.

'Oh, shut it.'

'Is that all though? You met a pretty witch and she wouldn't go home with you? That's what had
you asking questions about my paperwork?'
Sirius didn't meet his eyes as he said, 'Yes ... is that so hard to believe?'

Yes! thought Remus. That couldn't be the whole story; he knew Sirius, and couldn't imagine him
being so upset over something so innocuous. He was holding something back – was it even related
or was the girl just a bluff? 'So are you going to try and see her again?'

'I dunno,' he shrugged, 'maybe.'

Remus just shook his head and took another drink. He wondered who this woman was, she must
not have known Sirius by reputation if she'd struck up a conversation without wanting to go home
with him; it was definitely a rare occasion that Sirius got turned down and he never made a secret
of his intentions, or maybe Sirius had been a sloppier drunk than he admitted.

They lapsed into silence, both trapped in their own thoughts. Remus was weighing the benefits of
an upcoming reconnaissance mission for the Order. They had been talking at the meeting about
collecting enough information on the patterns of important Death Eaters, in the hope of being able
to pick them off. It had been happening to their side for the last year, and Dumbledore wanted to
turn the tables.

'How's the Ministry?' he asked his friend. 'Moody's working you lot to the bone by the sound of it.'

'Fingers to the bone, more like.' Sirius said stretching his hand out in front of him and flexing it.
'Dunno when I've ever done so much paperwork – I feel like you.'

"Don't mistake bureaucracy for literacy." Remus flapped his hand in denial, but smiled. He loved
books, and research; it was so easy to control, so calm and dignified, the complete opposite to his
unfortunate other side.

'We got Mulciber the other day though, foul git. Can't wait to see him crying for his Mum once we
get him to Azkaban.'

'Yeah, I know,' Remus replied. 'His file is nearly as tall as me. Crouch will put him away no
questions asked – with all the murders he's got to his name I doubt if he'll even get a trial.'

Sirius grunted in agreement. 'Doesn't bloody deserve one anyway.'

Just then the door to the street opened. A figure in a dark floor length cloak and hood moved to the
bar, leaning across the worn wood to whisper something to the wizened old barman who had
appeared to greet the newcomer. Aberforth nodded and gestured to the door that led to the
basement, the Order rooms.

As the figure – a woman, Remus guessed, judging by her stature - passed their table her pale face
was illuminated by the guttering candle that sat next to the nearly empty firewhiskey bottle. Remus
didn't recognise her, but when she caught his eye she stopped, turning towards him. Her gaze
passed from him and onto Sirius. Always the way, he thought.

'Hermione?' Sirius said sounding completely confused. 'What are you doing here?'

She glanced around the nearly empty pub. 'Meeting with him downstairs. He sent me a message
after you left for the meeting,' she said quietly.

Remus was looking between the two of them, wondering what was going on.

Sirius cleared his throat, 'Er ... this is Remus,' he said to the woman, 'Moony – this is Hermione.'
Hermione lowered her hood her thick curly hair fell free. Remus was pleasantly surprised. She
looked very pretty, and was standing there beaming at him as though she'd never been so glad to
meet someone in all her life.

'Remus? It's wonderful to meet you!' She held out her hand. 'Sirius has told me so much about you.'

He looked toward Sirius in time to catch him shaking his head at her. What was this? Then as he
turned back to reach for Hermione's outstretched hand, he saw her roll her eyes at his friend.

Deciding he would get Sirius back for keeping secrets, he took her hand and kissed it. Next to him
he heard Sirius choke on his drink. She was still grinning at Remus as he said with a smile, 'Don't
believe a word he tells you.'

'Oh, he was very nice – said you're frightfully clever,' she said enthusiastically, as he let go of her
hand. She looked at Sirius, who was just staring open-mouthed at the pair of them, 'What was it,
Sirius? Oh yes, he said you were the moon to his star – Anyway,' she hurried on, glancing at the
door, 'he's waiting for me down there.' With another smile in Remus's direction, she said, 'It's so
lovely to meet you, Remus. Sirius – see you tomorrow.' With that, she turned and tapped on the
door that led to the basement, said, 'nitwit blubber oddment tweak.' and vanished down the stairs.

Sirius's barking laugh echoed through the pub. 'Holy shit, Moony, you should see your face!'

Remus looked at him. 'What on earth?' He paused, dumbfounded. 'What was that about? Who is
she? The moon to your star? Padfoot ... what the hell?' but he was laughing too by this point.

'I never said it mate, I promise, it was her. She's too bloody clever for her own good.' Sirius was
gasping for breath. 'I'd already told her my name, and when I mentioned you I called you Moony -
and that was the first thing out of her mouth. Honestly mate, she's hilarious.'

Remus had to admit there weren't many people that could stun a Marauder to silence, let alone
someone they didn't even know.

'Why did she look so happy to meet me?' he asked. 'Was she just having a laugh then too?'

'Nah, she's been wanting to meet you.'

'Hmm,' murmured Remus.

'Hands off Moony, she's not that kind of girl.'

Remus was shocked that Sirius was aware that there was more than one kind of girl, and insulted at
the insinuation, but then it clicked. 'She's the one isn't she? The one that turned you down?'

That stopped Sirius laughing, and made Remus want to start again.

'Yeah, bloody crazy bird. Then you go and kiss her hand like it's sodding nineteen hundred, and
she's all giggles. Like I said, crazy.'

Remus was struggling to wipe the grin from his face as Sirius shot back the last of his drink,
looking mightily put out. 'Poor Paddy,' he said chortling. 'Rejected! What's she meeting with
Dumbledore for anyway?'

'I dunno, do I? And don't call me Paddy.'

There was something in Sirius's tone that made Remus doubt him – not about being called Paddy,
he knew he hated that – but about his claimed ignorance. Sirius had been with her that evening,
apparently, and she had said 'see you tomorrow'. He knew her better than he'd implied, despite the
tragic story of that first evening. And he was sure that Sirius knew more about the meeting with
Dumbledore than he was letting on. Remus supposed that at least if Dumbledore was involved,
then whatever Sirius was up to couldn't be that bad.

Wait, tomorrow? 'So are you busy tomorrow night then, Pads? James said he'll be there, I'm sure
he could manage, but…' Remus trailed off. It was the full moon the following evening, he and
Sirius had only spent four apart since fifth year. There was the one after 'The Incident' when
Remus had to tell him not to come for fear the wolf would quite literally eat him, and the other
three when Sirius had been away on training with the Aurors.

He didn't like to seem so dependent on his friends, but he couldn't hide the fact that it was a whole
lot easier with them there. He also felt a little hurt that Sirius wouldn't even bother to tell him he
had a date, and wasn't coming. But he would never mention that – he was a manly werewolf after
all.

'Course not mate,' Sirius said, confused. 'I'll be there with bells on. Up's at 10:40 right?'

Remus held in his grateful smile, nodding and draining his glass. Who cares if they're immature
gits most of the time? Any mate willing to run around with a werewolf and keep a lunar calendar
tattooed on the inside of his skull was a mate worth putting up with.
 Fraudulent Fehr

16th June

'Enter,' came Albus Dumbledore's voice, after Hermione had knocked on the heavy wooden door in
the basement of the Hogshead.

Hermione pushed the handle and was greeted by the sight of Dumbledore and Alastor Moody
sitting at a long worn elm-wood table; a shallow stone basin between them with runes around its
edge. Closing the door behind her, she moved to sit at the table with them. 'Professor, Mr Moody –
thank you for asking to see me.'

'So these are yours are they?' Moody growled.

'Yes, I hope you found them informative.'

Moody grunted, 'You could say that.'

'Hermione, Alastor is Head of the Auror Department at the Ministry. He is most trustworthy, and
will be an asset to your campaign.'

'I know,' she smiled. 'I've met you before, Mr Moody. You were invaluable in the Second war. I'll
never forget what you taught us – Constant Vigilance!' and she slapped her hand on the table top.

Moody jumped slightly and grunted again.

'So, to action!' said Dumbledore his eyes twinkling, moustache twitching. 'Miss Granger, I believe
you have already devised a plan? The most efficient way to use this information?

'Yes, Professor. Sirius has agreed to help me – three of the Horcruxes are in his family's
possession.'

'Black?' said Moody harshly. 'Merlin help us.'

Hermione ignored this; Sirius hadn't mentioned any potential problems, so she would just hope it
was the semi-affectionate frustration that Sirius seemed to inspire in many authority figures.
'Slytherin's locket is at Grimmauld Place, the Black family home. Hufflepuff's cup is in the vault of
Lestrange at Gringotts, deposited there by Bellatrix Lestrange, who is Sirius's first cousin. The
Diary is in the hands of Bellatrix's brother-in-law Lucius, at Malfoy Manor.'

'Perhaps the locket... if he's quick and under my invisibility cloak,' said Moody. 'But how is Black
going to be able to get into a Gringotts vault? Even if it is his cousin's? And the Malfoy place?
That's Death Eater holiday camp. They're either there or at Lestrange House – Forte de Sang - most
of the time.'

'Well, I had –'

'I suppose you took one look at Black and thought he could charm his way in anywhere? He'll just
be able to flutter those pretty eyelashes and they'll hand over whatever he asks for? Foolish girl,
goblins certainly wouldn't fall for it, and the rest are his family – not that it seems to matter to
them, inbred bunch of –'

'Alastor, that is quite enough,' Dumbledore interrupted. 'I would like to hear your suggestion, Miss
Granger.'

'Er ... of course Professor. Sirius will have to approach his mother, pleading a change of heart.'

'I doubt his mother would accept a "change of heart",' Moody scoffed. 'She hates the boy – not that
I can blame her.'

'Yes Alastor, we are well aware of your feelings toward Mr Black, and while he may deserve it, I
tire of hearing it,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'But you are right. Walburga is a formidable woman. I
have an idea of her weakness, however; I have formed a small strategy of my own that will help
win her over.' He fixed Moody with a hard glare. 'Though for the sake of Alastor's flagging
tolerance at the mention of young Mr Black perhaps we should move on to the problem of
Voldemort himself for now?' Dumbledore looked at Hermione, giving her in almost imperceptible
wink. 'What say you Miss Granger?'

'Yes Professor,' Hermione said suppressing a smile. 'My idea may sound rather simplistic, I'm
afraid,' she began, looking at Moody. She knew this was the least impressive part of her scheme
and though she trusted in her own judgment she wasn't sure Moody would; her fear of rebuff was
unnecessary however.

'Simple is good, lassie, less that can go wrong,' he said encouragingly.

'Right,' she said, feeling bolstered. His negative mood seemed to be related only to Sirius and not
her ideas in general. She wondered what Sirius had done to him.

'We know that on the thirty-first of October, Voldemort is going to be walking down the road that
leads to the Potters' cottage in Godric's Hollow during the early hours of the evening. He will be
alone.'

'How do you know that he will be alone?' Moody asked

'Harry saw into his mind,' Hermione explained, 'he saw Voldemort's memory of that night. He will
be alone.'

Moody scratched his chin, 'The Potter boy watched his parents die in the memory of their killer?'
Hermione nodded. 'Poor sod. Enough to drive a kid batty, that would be.'

'Yes,' Hermione said. 'He was very brave.'

'So, Voldemort will be alone,' Dumbledore said. 'I'm presuming you're thinking of an ambush Miss
Granger?'

'Yes Professor – I welcome your input on this – but I rather thought you could hide and curse him
when he passes you.'

Moody chuckled. 'Simple, alright,' he muttered.

'You would like me to do it?' Dumbledore inquired looking a little taken aback.

'Yes, I'm going to be otherwise engaged.'

'Why? What will you be doing that is more important than this?' Moody asked warily.

'I'm afraid of Voldemort finding out about what we're doing. I want to destroy all the Horcruxes at
once – after he's already arrived in Godric's Hollow. I have copies of all four objects so that when
we take each one it can be replaced. I know he doesn't check on the locket between '79 and '81,
because when you and Harry go to retrieve it, it's already been switched.

'I'm guessing that he probably won't check on the others either, but at least they won't be gone; if
he did ask Malfoy or Bellatrix to confirm they were safe, they would never notice the switch. It
would unfortunately alert Riddle to the loss of a Horcrux if Malfoy presented a fake diary to his
Master; though, hopefully he would kill Malfoy for his incompetence, so it wouldn't be an entirely
wasted exercise.' Hermione said. 'Same goes for Bellatrix,' she added with a grim smile.

Moody chucked appreciatively. 'I like the way your mind works lass,' he said. 'So unless
Voldemort askes to see the Horcruxes neither Bellatrix or Malfoy will be any the wiser that they
are missing... very good.' He was quiet for a moment, gazing in Hermione's direction but
apparently not seeing her as he tapped one knarled hand on his knee. His eyes became refocused.
'Who switched the locket?' He asked sharply, startling her.

'Er ... Sirius's brother Regulus – that's why it's at Grimmauld Place.'

'But isn't he a Death Eater?' asked Moody.

'He was, but when he discovered that Voldemort was trying to make himself immortal he didn't
want to be involved anymore; he got the Locket and hid it. He was killed for disobedience but
apparently Voldemort didn't know exactly what he did.' Hermione really didn't want to get into the
whole story of Kreacher and the Inferi.

'Does Sirius know his brother is dead?' Asked Dumbledore uneasily.

'Yes sir. He was very upset that he couldn't have helped him.'

'To lose a sibling is a very difficult thing,' said Dumbledore. Hermione's eyes snapped to him,
thinking of Arianna. 'When was he murdered?'

'Sometime in '79,' Hermione said in a subdued voice. 'I'm not completely sure of when; no one is.'

Dumbledore was looking very grave, but he continued, 'How do you plan to destroy the objects?'

Hermione took a deep breath, and forced her mind back to the task at hand and away from the
combined pictures in her mind, some real - the utterly heartbroken Sirius hunched at her dining
table - and some imagined – horrible, walking, stumbling corpses surrounding a dark haired boy
and an elf in a dark cave….

'Fiendfyre, Professor,' she managed in a small voice.

'You can cast it safely?' He looked rather concerned at her hesitation.

'Yes, I think so,' she said, focused again. 'I've been practicing for the last three years, both
Fiendfyre and the enchantments to contain it. I would like for you to check my skill though
Professor - you never can be too careful.'

'Very good,' he said nodding. 'I'm sure we will be able to find time once term has ended.' Hermione
smiled. 'Now you haven't mentioned where Ravenclaw's diadem is hidden.'

'Oh right,' said Hermione, 'I nearly forgot – it's at Hogwarts.'

Moody and Dumbledore looked at each other, astounded.

'Are you sure?' growled Moody.

'Very,' said Hermione. 'He hid it the night he interviewed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts
job.'

'Really?' Dumbledore was intrigued. 'Where is it hidden?'

'In the room of requirement, Professor. It's an amazing piece of magic – the room will turn into
anything the user needs.' Dumbledore's face was lit with fascination. 'During my time at school it
was used as a lavatory, a place to practice for an illegal defence group, a broom cupboard, a hide-
out, and - the one where we will find the diadem – the room of hidden things. You'll have to see it
to believe it, sir. It's opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'I love how Hogwarts continues to surprise me,' he said at Moody's
questioning look.

'We should go and get it, Albus,' Moody said. 'Don't want it left lying around where anyone can
find it.'

'Alastor, it stays safely hidden for another eighteen years, so I think it will manage another hour. I
want to fill Hermione in on her alias.'

Hermione was surprised. 'My alias, Professor? I will be staying as hidden as possible; I don't need a
fake identity. I shouldn't be here, and while I understand that the whole purpose of my being here
is to change the future, I want to be able to return to one that I recognise.'

She paused for a moment. 'That is something I wanted to ask you Professor. In my first year I didn't
have any friends until Harry and Ron saved me from a troll that was let in by a teacher who was
under the control of Riddle. So if all goes to plan there will be no Riddle and therefore no troll
and...' she trailed off, 'no friends,' she finished quietly.

Dumbledore looked at her a little strangely. 'I would think you knew what you were risking,
Hermione.'

'No sir, that's not what I mean. If I'm not friends with them, why would I go back in time to save
them?' Her brain was churning as she tried to explain the complicated thought process. 'I have all
my notes; I had thought I would give them to you when I leave, then you can give them to
younger-me at the end of my seventh year so I will be prepared to come back. You see? But,' she
continued, 'I will not be ready to risk everything - the law, death, a war that will be long over - for
people that I don't love.'

'I'm not sure what I can do about that Hermione,' Dumbledore said, though he seemed to be
considering her words very carefully.

'Let a troll in,' Moody grunted.

Hermione smiled, 'I'm sure you can think of something in the next ten years that will get them to
be friends with me.'

'I will put my mind to it,' Dumbledore said with a little nod. 'Now, as to you staying hidden, the
reason I need you to take on this alter-ego is Walburga Black. As Alastor has said, she is a devil of
a woman.' Hermione half-smirked, thinking of the portrait in Sirius's entry hall. 'Highly strung and
focused solely of the preservation of her family and their purity. Augusta Longbottom tells me that
she is desperate for her sons to continue the family line. Why Walburga has not mentioned
Regulus's death I do not know for sure – but I would hazard a guess that she is concerned the
family will lose standing without an heir.'

Hermione frowned slightly; bleakly she could see where this was going, but she wasn't going to
help Dumbledore get there.

'I have spoken with my good friend Frederica Fehr. She and I have been close for many years; she
was in education, herself, though more on the legal or curriculum side of things. After I was offered
the post as Headmaster of Hogwarts, we corresponded regularly on teaching practices, methods of
study and tutelage that were successful. She has had somewhat of a ... shall we say, charmed,
relationship over the last thirty years with another British wizard, Hector Dagworth-Granger.'

Hermione was perplexed; she remembered Slughorn mentioning him in her sixth year - what was
it? 'Didn't he found "The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers"?' she asked as the random
piece of information she didn't know she still remembered popped to the front of her mind.

A wide smile stretched across Dumbledore's face. 'He did indeed, Hermione, and conveniently
shares your name in case of slip-ups. Unfortunately, Hector passed away two months ago; he was
twenty years her senior.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, not sure how to react to this.

Dumbledore went on, 'Frederica and I have been speaking very often since Hector's passing. She
has been feeling restless and is uncomfortable with the control Voldemort seems to be gaining here.
It was she that suggested this strategy to me.'

Hermione wasn't sure she was on the same page as Dumbledore. 'I'm afraid I don't quite
understand, Professor,' she admitted.

'Lady Frederica Fehr lives in Zurich. She has three brothers all who hold places in the Swiss
ministry. They are a very powerful and wealthy family, but also very private. While it has always
been rumoured that Mr Dagworth-Granger was closely acquainted with Frederica they did not
openly express their relationship. When I told her of our need to infiltrate the Black household and
Walburga's desire for an heir she had a wonderful idea – she is quite the crafty woman. She
suggests that you pose as her daughter, hers and Hector's, raised in Switzerland, educated in
America and kept away from the prying eyes of the wizarding community as a precaution.'

'But Professor –'

'You were kept a secret for safety,' he reiterated. 'One of her nephews was killed in 1957; being
such an important and influential family in Europe there is always danger, wizards who want
power and will do almost anything to get it. Kidnapping, blackmail, the list goes on.'

'Professor, it's very nice of her to support our cause like this but I don't see ... Oh.' It had just
clicked. A young pureblood heiress would be just the type Walburga Black would want her son to
breed with.

'I think you understand? Alastor and I will spread the rumour of young Sirius keeping company
with Lady Fehr's daughter, who is in Britain because her father has passed away – Hector has no
close relatives living so that will not trip us up. News like that will reach the ears of Walburga. So
when Sirius makes an attempt to apologise, or shortly after, his mother will think she has the
chance she thought she lost with the death of Regulus.'

Hermione gulped. She had hoped to steer clear of the Black family if she could help it. But if
Dumbledore was right, if it gave Sirius an in, she could pretend. It was only until they got the
Horcruxes anyway - four months at the most.

The more she thought about it, the better the story seemed. Sirius dating a girl and dumping her
after four months was hardly anything new, and then she would leave and all would assume she'd
gone back to Switzerland. And with Lady Fehr to support the story it was unlikely to cause too
much trouble or suspicion.

'Okay,' Hermione said.

'I have some books for you on Swiss customs and European wizarding families, I had planned to
send them to you but perhaps you would like to pick them up in person? I believe part of
Voldemort's soul is waiting for us to collect it,' Dumbledore said with a smile.

I need the room where everything is hidden … I need the room where everything is hidden … I
need the room where everything is hidden …

There was a faint pop.

'I truly adore this castle. I swear it has more magic in one brick than any wizard could ever hope to
gain,' Dumbledore said reverently, gazing at the newly-appeared oak door.

Hermione smiled at him. 'Hold that thought, Professor.' She turned the handle and pushed the door
wide, greeted – thankfully – by the sight she was hoping for.

'My word,' Dumbledore whispered at her shoulder. Hermione looked around at him; he was staring,
his face alight with wonder as he took in the city of unwanted possessions. The look on his face
made him seem almost childlike.

'Follow me Professor,' she said, leading the way down a path between two mountains of broken
furniture.

She knew she was looking for a cupboard with a blistered front; the diadem had been near enough
for Harry to seize it in haste to mark the cupboard as the hiding spot of his potions book. It
shouldn't be very far from the door, Harry had been in a hurry.

After ten minutes on her chosen path, the light becoming dimmer as she and Dumbledore wound
their way deep into the rule-breakers' treasure forest, Hermione turned around. 'I think we should
go back to the door and start again; this is the wrong way.'

'As you say,' Dumbledore said cheerfully, leaning the sword he had been examining back against
the junk tower. 'This is astounding, Hermione. I think I could spend my whole life in here and
never get bored. I mean look at that!' He pointed to a rolled up rug. 'That's an Axminster – you can
fly all the way to Greenland on one of those.'

'If it's in here Professor, I'd say you can't – it would have been hidden for a reason.'

Dumbledore chortled, 'Proceed with caution is your advice, then, Hermione?'

'That is always my advice, sir, even when not surrounded by dangerous illegal flying carpets.' She
grinned at him, before pointing her wand at the stone floor to mark their path back to the door with
a glowing red line.

After an hour, Hermione was beginning to worry; her little red lines showed the paths they had
taken, and she was yet to find the blistered cupboard. You idiot, she realised. It was seventeen
years until Harry would hide his book – maybe there was no cupboard yet. Sighing, she waved her
wand and the red trail lines vanished.

Dumbledore looked at her questioningly. 'We are to start afresh?'

She nodded mutely, trying to remember any other details from the chase through the room on the
last night of the war.

'Perhaps red is not a sufficiently inspiring colour for Horcrux-hunting,' Dumbledore said brightly.
He set off down an alley, leaving a trail of dancing purple flames behind him.

Hermione smiled in spite of her concern and followed him.

They had returned to the door three more times with the violet flames as their guide; starting down
a fourth track she heard Dumbledore chuckle under his breath – rounding the corner Hermione saw
him staring up at a huge stuffed troll.

'I know I am supposed to be a powerful, respected wizard but I'm not ashamed to admit this fellow
gave me quite a fright,' he said, pointing his wand at the monstrosity of taxidermy so that it waved
its hand at Hermione. 'That's better,' he said with a little nod, moving on down the path.

She laughed at the waving troll as she passed, following the flames, her eyes scanning the junk for
a gleam of silver. Dumbledore's enjoyment of the room was a wonderful distraction from the
building panic that they would never find the stupid diadem.

They turned another corner, Hermione slightly behind again as her eye had been caught by
something shiny that turned out to be a silver-studded potion bottle, when Dumbledore said, 'Ah
ha!'

She hurried after him, and relief flooded her when she saw him holding the worn tiara.

'Success, I believe,' Dumbledore said, holding it out to her with a serene smile. She took it and
turned it over in her hands; it had the same feel as she remembered the locket having – all at once
heavy, bad and slightly special for a reason you couldn't quite place.

'This is it, Professor. Well done.'

'My pleasure,' Dumbledore said with a bow. 'What do you want to do with it? I am happy to hold it
until Hallowe'en if you wish.'

Hermione hesitated, 'No … Sir, I think it best if I keep them together. I am unknown and my
location is well hidden. Also, if something happened to you, I would not be able to get into
Hogwarts to get it.'

'A good point,' he said with another little bow of his head.

She tucked the diadem into her bag, as Dumbledore said, 'Now, to my office to get those books. I'm
sure you'll find them fascinating; the Swiss have a colourful history.' He looked at his pocket
watch, 'And then I must retire – old men should not be gallivanting around stimulating treasure
troves at such a late hour. I will need to be plied with hot chocolate for hours to get me off to sleep
– especially knowing this is just down the corridor.' He looked around the vast room, beaming.

Hermione smiled at his happiness. 'Yes, Professor.'

 Assault by Banana

22nd June

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. "The Grim Old Place", James always called it. Sirius preferred
to think of it as The House of Horrors.

Even in the middle of a sunny summer's day it looked forbidding, to him anyway. This was the
house he had felt trapped in. The house where some of the people he despised most in this world
lived, taking tea and plotting the murder of muggleborns. The house where he had watched his
little brother become like the rest of them, the twisted, sadistic bastards that bore him. He never
thought he would have to return here. His insides crawled at the thought.

The knowledge that Reg was dead tore at him again, but now it was tempered with something else
- he wouldn't call it pride, there was still too much guilt for that. Perhaps it was just that the hate in
him had diminished; his foolish brother had had a conscience after all, and he had tried to bring
down Riddle. Why hadn't he come to me? Sirius thought for what must have been the millionth
time since he had learned the truth two weeks ago. He would have helped, done whatever he could.
He knew it was useless to question the dead, but it didn't stop the thought running through his
mind again - why didn't he come to me?

Sirius was hidden in the shadow of a car parked at Number Eleven. He could see Number Twelve
of course; his family might have disowned him but they couldn't erase his blood. He had been
sitting on the road in the shadow of this car for the best part of two hours, waiting for his mother
the leave the house. He knew his best chance would be to talk to Grandfather Pollux alone.

Up until the night he'd run away, Pollux had still treated him like a grandson – a challenging duty
to care for, but he cared none the less. When Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor it had been
Pollux who talked his mother round, who got her to stop sending howlers to Sirius at breakfast. He
had also been the one, when Sirius had requested he stay at school for the holidays, who had
convinced Walburga to let him. It was only when Sirius had left the house for the last time when he
was sixteen, that Pollux had finally turned his back on him.

Sirius, lost in thought, nearly missed the moment he'd been waiting for; the heavy door of number
twelve opened, and a tall witch in dark blue robes stood on the top step, her black hair pulled up in
a severe bun covered by a small cap. She turned on the spot and vanished.

'Good bye, Mother,' Sirius muttered.

He got to his feet, stiff from his long spell in the crouching position. His knees really shouldn't hurt
so much for someone who was only just approaching his twenty second birthday he thought, as he
unfolded his legs carefully. Skirting around the car and moving to the gate of Number Twelve,
Sirius took a deep breath. He knew what he was going to say, and it was going to be very difficult.

He thought of the long stint in Azkaban that he would have to face, his friend's deaths, and the
horrible life Harry was going to have to live if he got this wrong. Exhaling slowly, he realized that
convincing his repulsive family he was repentant was nothing compared to all that. But that didn't
mean he was eager. His feet carried him to the front door without conscience effort, he was so
focused on the future he was trying to prevent that he was surprised to find his fist raised and ready
to knock. Sirius rapped loudly on the door, and his nerves jangled as he waited. His mind was like
a scratched record; James and Lily... Azkaban ... James and Lily... Azkaban ... James and Lily...
Azkaban ... Sirius was glad for the repetition, it distracted him from the hasty retreat he was
resisting with difficulty.

The clicking of the internal locks announced someone opening the door and it parted from the
frame just a crack.

Kreacher the house-elf's croaking voice issued from within the dark house, 'The Bloodtraitor,' it
said reproachfully. Knowing what he did about Kreacher now, Sirius found he did not hate the
sound as much as he thought he would.

'Kreacher,' Sirius said, 'I'm here to offer my condolences on Regulus's death.' Kreacher's withered
face appeared in the crack, one long ear poked out the gap just far enough to catch the daylight on
the front step. 'I wish to speak to Grandfather Pollux.' Sirius added firmly.

The elf looked back over his shoulder into the house before he spoke again, his voiced rasping as
he kept it low, 'Master Regulus has been gone for years. Why is you only coming now?'

Sirius had not been prepared to have to convince the family servant of his intentions, but it was
good practice. 'I have only just found out.' he began quietly, 'I am sorry Kreacher I know he was
very important to you,' Sirius said, in possibly the kindest voice he had ever used in the elf's
presence.

Kreachers bulbous eyes widened, and he looked more suspicious at the courteous delivery than the
content. 'All Kreacher's Masters and Mistresses are important to him.' he muttered balefully.

'I understand, Kreacher.' Sirius said, realising for the first time that grief the elf felt was possibly
even more complicated than his own. 'Regulus was always kind to you. I'm sure you miss him very
much.'

The house-elf scowled, clearly confused, 'Kreacher has a house to look after. He is too busy for
missing.'

Sirius hesitated. Hermione said they would be able to get Kreacher on their side, but maybe it
would be better to wait until the family believed his story of repentance, then try again with the elf.

'Yes, you were always a good elf. Family first, right Kreacher?' Sirius smiled.

'Yes, Master Sirius,' the elf said. Then with a gasp and a horrified look he clapped a hand to his
mouth. 'The Bloodtraitor tricked Kreacher,' he mumbled, eyes narrowed above his fingers.

'It is not a trick, Kreacher.' Sirius insisted, almost amused, 'I wish to speak with Grandfather. I want
to fulfill my duty as heir.'

'Kreacher will ask Master Pollux if he wishes to speak to the Bloodtraitor,' he fixed Sirius with a
hard glare. 'The Bloodtraitor will wait here.' then the elf shut the door solidly in Sirius's face.

Sirius waited. What if Pollux wouldn't see him? Then he would write a letter; perhaps he should
have done that in the first place. He was honestly very sorry that Reg was gone; he hoped that if he
could see his grandfather he would be able to use the remorse to his advantage.

The door opened again, wider this time, swinging inward dramatically. Pollux stood there, tall and
proud, the dim yet imposing foyer at his back and his age only showing in the slight stretching of
his robes at his waist. His hair was still dark, though strands of silver showed at his temples. He
was only sixty seven after all, really only middle-aged for a wizard.

'Sirius,' he said, coldly.

'Grandfather,' Sirius replied. Standing straight and adopting was he thought was a humble tone of
voice. James and Lily... Azkaban, he thought quickly, It all depends on this. 'I have only just heard
about the loss of Regulus. I wish to bring my condolences to you and Mother.'

There was a stiff silence as Pollux met his eye. 'You were not told?'

'No, Grandfather, I'm disowned - why would Mother tell me?'

'I was under the impression that she informed you at the same time she wrote to you of your father's
death.'

'I only received a letter said that Father had finally succumbed to the shame of having a
Bloodtraitor for a son - and that I was not welcome at the funeral,' said Sirius, trying to appear
contrite. He did not mention that he wouldn't have attended the funeral even if his mother had
begged him.

Pollux shook his head. 'My girl – she is too proud for her own good.'

'Grandfather? I want to return.' Sirius said quickly, desperate to get the words out before he lost his
nerve. 'With Regulus gone there is no heir, I feel that it's my duty to resume the role.'

Pollux was equal measures shocked and nonplussed to judge by his expression, tented eyebrows
and lips in a hard straight line. 'What has bought this on?' he asked, sharply, 'You were perfectly
happy to shun your name and shirk your duty five years ago.' he sounded very bitter.

James and Lily... Azkaban, Sirius recited internally as he took a breath, preparing to lie, 'I am sorry
for that. I realise now what a fool I have been.'

'Have you run out of gold?' Pollux asked bluntly.

'No Grandfather,' Sirius replied, he should have known that's what Pollux would suspect, at least he
could answer truthfully, 'Uncle Alphard left me quite a fortune in his will. That is not why I am
here. The role of heir is essential to the family, and it is a duty I wish to fulfill again – Regulus's
death has shaken me.' James and Lily... Azkaban. 'I understand the importance of family now, of
carrying on the line.'

Pollux's head snapped up at that. 'Have you got some poor girl pregnant?'

Sirius had to restrain a smile, if that was the case he'd be on bended knee willingly begging Pollux
for help, his life was quite stressful enough right now. 'No Grandfather, but when I marry, I would
like for my children to be proud of their heritage and how could they be, when their father is
considered a Bloodtraitor?'

'When you marry?' Pollux repeated in surprise, 'From the rumours I hear, marriage is a long way
down your list of priorities.' He didn't look angry, merely confused.

'Perhaps, Grandfather,' Sirius admitted, 'But these are modern times, it's nice to know a girl before
you think of marrying her.'

'I understand you are getting to know a lot of them,' Pollux said with a faint glint in his eye, his
tone lightening further.

'I apologise,' Sirius said, trying not to get his hopes up, this seemed easier than he'd expected, 'It
was difficult with no family to ... er ... ground me.' Sirius gave an affected bashful grimace, and
Pollux looked as though he wanted to smile; his lip twitched. 'I have reformed, Grandfather.' Sirius
promised humbly, 'I will be the model heir I know Mother desires.'

'Reformed? Is it true then?'

'Er ... is what true?' Sirius asked, confused.

'The girl.' Pollux explained impatiently, 'Dagworth-Granger's girl. Your mother had it from one of
the ladies at tea, that you have been keeping company with the heiress to Dagworth-Granger's
estate.'

Marvelling inwardly at speed Dumbledore could spread gossip, Sirius nodded. 'Yes Grandfather,
Her name is Hermione, her mother is Frederica of the Fehr family in Zurich.'

Pollux raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed. 'They are a proud family, is she the one who has
convinced you to come back to us?'

'Partly, Grandfather.' Sirius said, thinking it ironic that it was actually entirely down to Hermione
that he was here. 'She does believe family is of high importance, but it was the news of Reg that
convinced me. I had thought that with him making you all so proud… alive… that I was ...
unnecessary. He would bring more Black children ... the line would continue. But now ... well
now, that is my job.' Sirius finished, and he was shocked at how real it sounded; he could almost
believe it himself.

He stared at his boots, willing his grandfather to accept him, praying to Merlin that his part in
Hermione's grand plan would go smoothly. James and Lily... Azkaban. The mantra continued in his
mind, he didn't think he'd ever wanted anything as much as he wanted this to work. Then a hand
was resting on his shoulder, it startled him and and he looked up, his eyes slightly misted – the
combined emotion of fear for his friends and the loss of his little brother was a strong one.

'Never fear, my boy – I will speak to your mother,' Pollux said, a small grim smile forming on his
lips. He removed his hand from Sirius's shoulder.

'Thank you, Grandfather.'

26th June

Flying motorbike really was the only way to travel, Sirius thought as he charged through the air
that Friday evening. The tiny dotted lights of houses and cars below him lookec almost like a
reflection of the stars above him, and the wind was strong as it slapped him in the face, serving
only to make him feel more alive and glad that this small freedom was still available to him.

He began to descend as the small cluster of lights that was Godric's Hollow drew nearer. He landed
at the far end of one of the streets that led to the village square - this part of the road was still in the
country really so there was no one around to see him; as he rode toward the centre of the village the
houses became more frequent and the gardens smaller and tidier, slowing and pulling into the drive
way of a neat cottage he cut the engine, flicked his wand to disillusion the bike, and strolled to the
front door. He knocked.

'Who is it?' asked a quiet and serious voice from the other side of the door.

'It's Padfoot,' Sirius replied.

'How many bones in your hand were broken by Filch's broom handle when he caught you
smuggling dungbombs into his office in second year?' James's voice asked.
Sirius chuckled at the memory, 'Eight – and I got a wallop across the bum too, couldn't sit down all
weekend.' He could hear James laughing.

'What did you say Lily had skin like when we were spying on the girls swimming, the summer
before sixth year?' Sirius asked.

'Er ...'

'You what, James Potter?' came the shrill voice of his wife.

'An ivory goddess,' James muttered, and the door opened. 'Thanks a lot mate,' James said pulling
Sirius into a hug and pounding him on the back rather harder than necessary, 'managed to keep that
little adventure secret for the last five years.'

'Sorry, but I'm running out of questions,' Sirius said, still laughing.

'I know what you mean, soon I'll have to ask "How come you've got a secret girlfriend that I had to
hear about from Moony?"' James said, suddenly indignant, as he righted his glasses that had been
knocked askew by the exuberant hug.

Bloody wolf, Sirius thought. 'She's not a secret girlfriend, she's a mate - she's doing some work for
Dumbledore and he asked me to help her, that's it. Since when have you and Moony been such
gossip queens, anyway?'

'We're not. We just don't like secrets. And if you were trapped inside all the bloody time, you'd
want to live through your mates' exciting lives too.'

'You'll be starting a column in Witch Weekly next,' Sirius said, rolling his eyes. 'Prongs and Moony
are excellent pen names for the bashful tabloid trash writer.'

'Are you two coming to eat or are you just going to natter in the hall like a couple of old hens?' Lily
called from the kitchen.

'Come on,' said James, 'Harry will be pleased to see you, he's getting pretty sick of staring at my
ugly mug every bloody day.'

'Who could blame him,' Sirius quipped, but there was a funny quality in James's voice; it seemed
the strain of being stuck inside all the time was beginning to get to him.

Sirius followed his best friend down the narrow hallway, towards the sound of baby gibberish and
smell of roast beef. Lily was standing at the kitchen bench, her auburn hair piled high on her head
to keep it out of Harry's sticky-fingered reach, wearing a green and purple paisley apron and lifting
a large roast from its dish onto a carving board. 'Sirius,' she said happily as the two men entered the
room, 'how've you been?'

'Good,' he said with a smile, making a beeline for Harry in his high chair. 'Has he finished?' Sirius
asked, 'Can I get him out of here?'

Harry's face had broken into a huge grin and he was babbling away at Sirius, apparently
unconcerned that his godfather couldn't understand a word. His chubby arms were extended, fists
opening and closing with a wicked gleam in his eye as he reached towards Sirius's unbound hair.

'Sure,' said Lily and she threw him a cloth to wipe Harry's face and hands. 'I know he has to learn to
feed himself, but good grief, it's so messy.'
'I found a piece of banana down the back of my shirt last week,' James piped up. 'I don't know if he
meant to put it there or not – but I'm counting it as his first practical joke.'

Lily and Sirius were both laughing. Hands and face clean, Sirius hoisted Harry from the highchair
saying, 'Good one mate! What have you got planned next? Porridge in his shoes?' His godson was
garbling back, happy to finally have those shiny black tresses in reach; snatching some in his
pudgy hand he pulled delightedly, babbling all the more when Sirius squawked in pain.

James, who was carving the roast, said 'Maybe porridge in my shoes will be third; yanking your
hair out by the roots seems to be his next goal.'

As Sirius tried to pry Harry's tangled fingers from his hair, Lily laid the table and James finished
carving. He finally extracted the tiny hand with a few snaps and pricks of pain as his hair broke or
parted company with his scalp, and had time to bounce Harry around – at arms-reach from his hair
– and make him giggle before it was time to put him back in the highchair and take his place at the
table. 'Looks great, Lily,' he said, eyeing the plentiful dinner.

She smiled at the praise. 'Where're Remus and Peter tonight?' she asked. 'Seems strange that I offer
dinner and they turn me down; I normally have to chase them away. Have you all got secret
girlfriends now?' She smirked at Sirius as she passed him the potatoes.

Sirius sighed. Gossip, how he despised it. And Peter ... dirty rotten Peter. It's a bloody good thing
he's not here – it would be awfully hard to pretend in front of James, knowing that he was the man
that was going to be betrayed, but if Sirius was rude to Peter, James would call him on it, ask what
was wrong, and Sirius was already lying too much. He didn't want to have to do it to his closest
friend as well.

'Padfoot mate, what's wrong?' James concerned voice broke into his reverie.

'Oh, sorry,' Sirius said; it hit him suddenly at the sound of James's voice - if he fucked up, his
brother, his chosen brother, was going to be gone forever. There was a horrible hard lump in his
throat as he looked across the table at their faces, Harry was gurgling away next to him ... all this
would be gone. His family.

'Sirius?' Lily said softly, 'Has something happened?'

Shit, shit, what was he meant to say? They couldn't know or they'd never use Peter as the secret
keeper. 'Regulus is dead.' The words tumbled from him before he knew what he was saying.

'Pads,' James said quietly, 'Why didn't you say something? We're so sorry.'

'S'alright Prongs,' Sirius mumbled, 'I only just found out, it happened two years ago, he was trying
to get out of the Death Eaters so I guess there's something to be happy about.'

'How did you find out?' James asked.

'Er ... Dumbledore heard, from the mole ... did you hear about Brownlee? They just found the
body.' Sirius said, trying to change the subject. He still wasn't comfortable discussing his brother. 'I
guess we'd known for a while. Nice to have closure I suppose.'

'Yeah,' said James, a worried look in his eyes. 'Does your family know about Reg?'

'Yeah, they've known for ages, the bastards,' Sirius said forcing his voice to sound casual.

James only knew Sirius hated Reg for his decision. If he figured out that that there was something
more it would lead to more and more lies. 'I can't believe they didn't tell me. But it has helped in a
way. Dumbledore has given me a bit of a mission.'

'Really? Doing what?'

'You're not going to believe this, but I'm to try and get back in the good books with the family.'

Both Lily and James stared at him in horror. 'What?' James gasped.

'Why?' Lily asked, looking appalled.

'Dumbledore wants information,' Sirius said, 'and unfortunately for me, the Blacks are some of the
evil gits that have it.'

'Yeah ... but ...,' James said doubtfully, 'why would they give it to you?'

'Now that Reg is gone, Dumbledore thinks my banshee of a mother might be a little more receptive
to my apology.'

'Your apology?'

'Yep, that I'm sorry for running out on the family, dishonouring the name, blah, blah, blah.' Sirius
flipped his hand in dismissal.

'God, Sirius,' said Lily, 'that's quite a thing for Dumbledore to ask ... just for a bit of information.
Does he really think you can do that? He thinks your mother will believe you?'

'Well,' Sirius said with a smirk, 'it helps that I'm dating Lady Frederica Fehr's daughter, I suppose.'
He almost heard James's jaw hit the table. Lily's eyes narrowed.

'Excellent potatoes Lil,' Sirius said, enjoying their reaction.

'You're dating ... as in the Swiss Fehrs? Remus said she was British ... you do have a secret
girlfriend! How the hell did you meet her?' James was flabbergasted, and Sirius couldn't help but
grin.

'Aren't they like, the wealthiest purebloods in Europe?' Lily asked.

'Uh huh,' Sirius said, he couldn't resist, 'And the most powerful. My mother will die of shock -
well, I can only hope.'

'Padfoot. Mate. It's your life, but ... er ... do you think it's a good idea to be involved with a family
like that at a time like this? Do they support Voldemort?'

Sirius couldn't hold it in any longer. He let out a loud bark of laughter. 'Sorry, I couldn't help
myself. She's not really a Fehr,' he said with a wide grin. 'Or my girlfriend for that matter. It's
Hermione – the girl Moony mentioned – Dumbledore is friendly with Frederica and she is going to
play along. The story is that Lady Fehr is her mother and old Dagworth-Granger is her dad – you
know those two had a thing going for years – he just died you see, so now Hermione, as his only
child, I think only living relative, is his heir.'

'Shit mate, you had us going for a minute!' James was laughing, and Lily joined in, and then as
though not wanting to be forgotten Harry let out a bubbling giggle from his highchair.

'Don't swear in front of the baby, James,' Lily admonished, but she was smiling. 'So it's all a web of
lies and subterfuge then?'
Sirius nodded an answer to Lily's question, his mouth too full of roast beef to speak.

'Why didn't you tell Moony?' James asked. 'He was pretty adamant that some girl had you all tied
up in knots.'

Sirius swallowed hastily. 'We didn't have a plan yet. I'll tell him this week though – I'd only just
met her last time I saw him.'

'Oh?' said Lily, eyebrow raised, 'and were you "tied up in knots" as my husband so eloquently put
it?'

'No, I – she turned up at the Hogshead, you know after the meeting – and I was surprised she was
there 'cause Dumbledore didn't mention it and then I hadn't told Moony about her, so when she
came over to say hello – he thought I was keeping secrets ... I was a bit stressed I suppose.'

Lily's other eyebrow went up.

'But only cause I didn't want him thinking I'd lied to him!' Sirius added in a rush. 'Anyway, I'll
bring her over here soon – you'll love her, Lily. She's pretty quick, stunned Moony to silence when
she met him. Ha, and me for that matter.'

'Really?' asked James.

'Yeah – weird, right?'

'I'll say,' said Lily. 'I like her already.'

'So what family is she really from?' James asked. 'I don't remember any Hermione at school. Is she
older?'

'She's a muggleborn, went to school in America, her folks are British though.'

'A muggleborn?' James laughed, 'If only your mother knew!'

'Yeah, I know.' Sirius laughed too. 'Kinda makes it worth it.'

They fell into a peaceful silence, concentrating on their food, until Harry decided that it was boring
being surrounded by quiet adults and reached out from his highchair, gurgling impatiently, and
latched on to another lock of Sirius's hair. He tugged away enthusiastically, but Sirius ignored him
in favour of finishing his last mouthful of Lily's brilliant roast. Finally swallowing, he turned to see
Harry's frustrated face, obviously put out by being ignored, change in a flash to a broad gappy
smile. Sirius could count seven teeth. 'Are you bored mate?' Sirius said as his godson gave his hair
an extra-vigorous tug. 'Come on then, enough of that.' He picked him up and looked at Lily. 'How
long till bed?'

She glanced at the clock above the fridge, 'Another hour,' she said, 'but don't get him all worked
up. He hates going to bed on a good night.'

'No problem Lil,' Sirius said, shaking his hair out of Harry's pudgy-fingered reach.

'Butterbeer, Padfoot?' James asked, opening the pantry.

'Sure,' Sirius smiled, bouncing Harry up and down as the little boy giggled like mad.

'You boys go and catch up,' Lily said. 'I need to do the dishes and if Harry sees the bubbles we'll
never hear the end of it.'
When Lily entered the small sitting room a little over an hour later, after tidying the kitchen and
setting a load of laundry to wash, she expected to find an overexcited Harry with two equally
exuberant men. The scene that presented itself, however, was undeniably sweet.

James lay stretched out on his back on the sofa, his feet in Sirius's lap. Sirius was reclining but still
mostly upright with Harry clutched protectively to his chest. All three boys were fast asleep. She
sighed. James struggled to sleep at all anymore, with the pressure of protecting his family
weighing on him. And Harry, well, he had spent most of the day trying to get his food as far away
from his mouth as possible. Sirius though, she guessed the combination of a large meal and long
days at the Ministry would tire anyone out.

She moved to take Harry from his godfather and the grey eyes snapped open, his restraining arm
tightening around the little boy, his free hand searching for his wand.

'It's alright, Padfoot,' she said in a whisper, 'it's just me.' He smiled sleepily and released Harry to
her, his eyes closing once more.

She didn't normally call him by his nickname, but she didn't want to startle him and wake Harry.
She knew the name would make him realise they were safe. It was so exhausting she thought, as
she took Harry upstairs and put him in his cot, tucking the blankets in tightly, to live in a constant
state of readiness. She recognized the look in Sirius's eyes - instantly wary, ready no matter what -
the same look James had whenever she woke him.

When she returned to the sitting room she had to stifle a giggle, her introspective mood broken as
she looked at her husband and his best friend. Sirius had slumped from his sitting position onto his
side, and now his head was pillowed on James's thigh, his arm dangling across his friend's knees.
They were both snoring, and looked quite at peace with the world. Lily tiptoed from the room to
fetch her camera – she couldn't let this opportunity be missed.
 Werewolves of London
Chapter Notes

Sorry for the terribly clichéd song reference. It was too perfect to ignore. Thanks
Warren Zevon.

27 th June

The corridor was dark, a single torch flickered on the wall, its flame stuttering in the slight breeze
his passing made, the wood panelled walls reflected its light strangely, almost like water.

How should he approach the situation? He had been dwelling on this problem for a whole year
now, every attempt he had made had failed, his man on the inside was weak. He'd always known
that – he had hoped when his spy had first come to him that he would show the same sprit as his
friends, that he would share their courage and that it would be to his advantage. Lord Voldemort
had believed nothing stood in his way once he had this spy in his ranks, he was friends with the
Potters. The child would be in his grasp, but he had proceeded with caution, and there was another
matter to attend to before that triumphant moment. He only wanted to make one true attempt. If
there was one thing he was good at it was acting at the right moment, he understood the inner
workings of magic.

It had been his goal since he was a child and Dumbledore had set his wardrobe alight. He
endeavoured know everything about powerful magic. And the gravity of certain acts, symbolism
and timing were all important when it came to old magic, the magic of death, and immortality. He
truly believed no one knew more than he. Once he made the decision to act, the boy would be
gone. There was no doubt in his mind. He knew he would succeed and then nothing would stand in
the way of true power. True ownership of this word. But that decision was the part that was
missing, it seemed the wrong time, something would happen soon, he was sure of it – that would
be the signal to act.

'My Lord,' said a low voice. A woman was approaching from the other end of the corridor, a thin
smile graced his lips, 'Bella, what news?' He asked.

'Lucius has arrived My Lord, he brings good news, he and the others had broken the enchantments
on the Boneses property, we will be able to get to them tonight.'

27 th June

'Have you heard from your grandfather yet?' Hermione asked him.

'Not yet,' Sirius said, 'but that's hardly surprising, my mother will need to be sweet talked for weeks
before she'd allow me back in the house.'

'But you think she'll come round?' She said, slightly worried.

'For sure, Grandfather can talk anyone into anything if he's of a mind to.'
They were sitting at the small table in Hermione's hotel room, sharing a pot of tea and some scones
Lily had given Sirius when he'd left their house that morning. It was nearly lunch time, and the
summer sun was streaming through the open doors to the balcony.

Hermione of course never had any plans to fill her weekend, which was hardly different from the
weekdays in any case. So when Sirius had showed up on his way home from the Potters bearing
scones and picture of Harry for her, she was quite glad for the company.

The baby in the picture sat in a high chair – his hand full of something green and mushy, it
squelched out between fat little fingers as he closed his fist. Then James came into view he bent
over Harry and immediately received an open handed green splat to the chest, at which point the
messy haired baby would roar with silent laughter.

'Do you think I could meet them?' Hermione asked, after drinking her fill from the square little
image.

'Um... I'm glad you asked, I already told them I'd bring you round one night for dinner.' Sirius said
a little sheepishly.

'Wait, do they think I'm me, or the Fehr heiress? I really don't want to lie to them anymore than
necessary.'

'No, I told them what we're doing,'

'What? You – ' Hermione began, concerned at once.

'Don't worry,' Sirius said placatingly, 'I just said Dumbledore wants information. That's all, but the
rest is the same; we're pretending to be a couple for my dear old mum, Lady Fehr is your imaginary
mother and you're a muggleborn. But I told them you went to school in America to account for the
fact that one knows you … But that your folks are British. Ok?'

'Er – right ... no worries then.' Hermione muttered.

'I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet Moony properly. He's been gossiping with
Prongs about how you're my secret girlfriend. I feel kind of bad that the last time you met him he
thought I was being a sneaky bugger.'

'Sure,' Hermione said happily. 'Professor Lupin,' she said smiling. 'It will be nice to talk to him
again.'

'Merlin, don't tell him he'll be a Professor one day – he'll be singing for hours.' Sirius said with a
grin 'It's only his dream.'

Hermione smiled, if they succeeded at this, and Riddle was dead ... the Defence Against the Dark
Arts position wouldn't be cursed anymore, Remus would be able to keep his job. Or maybe even
get it earlier. This was something she hadn't considered at all. How nice it was when things worked
out.

'He asked me to come over this afternoon, are you busy?'

Hermione laughed, 'Hold on, I'll just check with all the other people I know here that might want
my company.'

Sirius smiled, 'Do you get bored? I can't think of anything worse than not knowing anyone, not
being able to do anything all day ... Unless it's going to the Ministry and being surrounded by
incompetent twats five days a week that is.' He added as an afterthought.

'It does get a little tedious,' she said 'but I have lots of books. Dumbledore gave me some excellent
ones on Swiss wizarding customs. Did you know that – '

'Okay, okay,' Sirius said holding up his hands, 'I get it! It's a total nightmare of boredom and wanky
pureblood books, I feel terrible for you.'

Hermione humphed in mock annoyance, 'I'm getting prepared for when I have to meet your dragon
of a mother. I need to know everything.'

'You really shouldn't be so mean.' Sirius said seriously.

Hermione frowned. Sirius was always the first to call his mother names, usually much more
colourful and profanity laced than dragon. 'Er ...' she said.

'I mean, dragons are such interesting creatures, they don't deserve to be compared to the likes her.'
he let out a chuckle. 'I prefer bigoted whore ... or maybe …' he looked thoughtful, 'Cunt faced hag?'

'Sirius!' Hermione admonished.

'What? Is only offensive if it's not true, if it's just an apt description – which it is – how can you
possibly be offended?'

Hermione thought of the portrait that hung in the hall of Grimmauld Place – spit flying from its
mouth, screeching insults and vile words, perhaps he had a point. 'Yes… well,' said Hermione,
'When are you going to see Remus?'

'Couple of hours, I'm gonna go home for a kip first – slept on the couch at Prongs's and it's not the
best, I'll come and get you on my way, Remus lives in the middle of bloody nowhere, and we have
to walk through the wilds for a bit so make sure you've got comfy shoes.'

Hermione gave him a look, 'I don't have anything except comfy shoes.'

'Good,' Sirius said grinning, then he snatched the last scone from the plate on the table as he stood
up and stretched. 'I'll see ya later then.' he said. He stepped onto the balcony, then in a turn he was
gone.

'Walk through the wilds a bit?' Hermione said incredulously, as they tramped side by side through
what she considered to be a megalithic forest.

If Sirius noticed the sarcasm in her tone he ignored it. 'Yes.' he said chirpily, 'He's a werewolf –
and a paranoid one, his concealment charms are three times as wide as normal, it's only about
another fifteen minutes' walk. He likes to know he's safe – did you expect him to live in a semi-
detached in Norfolk or something?'

'I don't know,' Hermione said, 'why can't he live in London? There's a song all about it.'

At this Sirius lost it, he was laughing so hard he'd had to lean forward and brace his hands on his
knees. 'Ahaawoooo' he choked out in between guffaws.

Hermione was laughing too, although not quite as insanely as him, quite perplexed at what she
considered to be a vast over reaction to a rather feeble joke.

'I can't believe you said that – It's my line.' He said hiccoughing slightly. 'I must have complained
to Moony about his ridiculous solitude a hundred times – that song being my main argument.' He
wiped the tears from his cheeks, 'He told me I was a selfish git – but now I am proven correct!' he
raised his fist in a triumphant gesture.

'Um, as you pointed out,' Hermione said, still giggling at the idiotic look on his face, 'I was being
funny. It's smart of him to live out here.'

'No! You said it. You can't take it back now, it's too late.' Sirius said. 'Come on, we must hurry so I
can tell him that the girl version of him thinks he should move to the city as well. He can't argue
with me anymore.'

'The girl version of him?' Hermione repeated laughing even more. 'I don't know if that's the best
approach to win him over.'

'No more arguing,' Sirius said as he sped up – his longer legs carrying him across the under growth
much more quickly than Hermione.

'Oi!' she said. 'Wait up!' She broke in to a run to catch up, then suddenly he was gone the large
shaggy black dog that was Padfoot in his place. Trotting along sniffing at the ground, poking his
nose into interesting tree stumps and fallen logs Hermione was struggling to keep up, clutching a
stitch in her side as she jogged along after him, regretting the last six weeks of sitting around
reading, and the last two years in a desk job.

They finally reached a clearing, it was more like a gap in the trees than an actual clearing. There
was an empty patch of forest floor in front of a small shack, it looked abandoned – there were
towering oaks surrounding it quite closely the undergrowth creeping right up on either side of the
tiny building. The whole area was only about ten metres in diameter.

Sirius was suddenly present again. 'You coming?' he called over his shoulder as he approached the
tumbledown house.

Hermione followed, she couldn't believe Remus chose to live in a place like this; the walls were
covered in moss, the windows broken in places. She knew he was poor but this seemed insane
when Sirius and James were both wealthy enough to support him. Maybe he refused their help?
Because surely, they would have offered – rather than let him live somewhere like this.

Sirius knocked on the worn cracked door, 'Moony?' he called 'It's me'

Hermione had joined him on the stoop in time to hear Remus's voice ask, 'What did Professor
McGonagall say to both of us when we were caught coming back from the kitchens in sixth year
with that huge cake covered in lilies for James birthday?'

Sirius grinned, 'She said, "That looks delicious", and let us go.' He chuckled, 'and then you got a
note from her an hour later saying you'd better bring her some, or she'd put me in detention.'

Remus was laughing and for some reason Sirius was scowling. 'But it was all gone by then and I
got detention but you didn't. You were so her favourite.' Sirius added glumly.

'It's one of my fondest memories.' Remus said through the door.

Hermione gave a tiny laugh at the look on Sirius face.

'Who did you say you'd rather shag than spend another minute in divination at the end of fourth
year?' Sirius asked through the peeling rotted wood.
Remus laughed again, 'Filch - still bloody true though, ridiculous waste of time.'

Hermione laughed more loudly at this.

Sirius looked at her, 'Gees – It's not that funny.'

'I hated divination,' she said, 'I wouldn't have shagged Filch to get out of it,' she giggled, 'but I did
quit halfway through third year. Stupid imaginary subject.'

The door opened and Sirius lunged forward seizing Remus around the neck.

'Uhg – Padfoot get off.' Remus grunted, delivering a sharp jab to his dark haired friends' side.

Sirius released him, 'Moony,' he said, 'you remember Hermione from the other night?'

'Hi Remus.' Hermione said smiling, as he pushed his thick sandy hair from his face, and
straightened his jumper that was disarranged by the tussle with his friend.

'Hey,' he said with a grin, 'nice to see you again – come in,' he stepped aside to let them pass.

Hermione felt her mouth drop open as she entered what looked like a shack from the outside, but
once inside it was a cosy little cottage with warm looking wooden floors, a reasonably high ceiling
and large windows letting in the late June sunshine. They were clean and unbroken –unlike the
external view had suggested. There was a large open fireplace at the far end of the room they had
entered; at the other end was the kitchen, only two doors led of the living room, Hermione
supposed they led to the bathroom and bedroom.

'Wow,' Hermione said, 'Remus, this place is great.'

He smiled. 'Yeah, good thing magic is free.'

'It's certainly well hidden.' She added slightly ruefully as she waved her wand at her dirty leaf-
strewn trainers and trouser cuffs, vanishing the debris.

'Yeah well, dangerous times,' he said moving to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil, and pulling
mugs from the cupboard above the sink.

'Very true' Hermione agreed, still absorbing the comfortable atmosphere of the little house, there
were pictures covering most of the walls, and on the stretch of wall behind the small sofa, opposite
the window there was a collage of paraphernalia – images in frames or just pinned there,
newspaper articles, photos of his friends, vinyl sleeves, paintings, even advertisements that all
seemed to fit together into one big piece of art.

'So I saw Lily and Prongs last night.' Sirius said, collapsing onto an armchair next to the fireplace.

'How are they?' Remus asked, as he stacked three mugs into a precarious tower to carry to the
coffee table, a large metal teapot with a stripy cosy in his other hand, 'Prongs still suffering from
cabin fever?'

'Yeah a bit, still it's not forever is it? We're sure to get Ol' Snakey soon.'

Remus chortled, 'Please tell me that if you ever come face to face with him, you'll call him Old
Snakey.'

'I solemnly swear.' Sirius said grinning at his friend.

Two hours later Hermione was still sitting on the sofa, her feet curled beneath her, a third cup of
tea clutched in her hands and a silly delighted smile on her face.

Both men seemed to have forgotten she was there. They were joking and teasing each other so
much she could barely understand the words between the snorts and giggling. She was reminded so
much of their older selves, how no matter the seriousness of the situation, there was always room
for a laugh. It made her so happy to know that even with the awful future that befell them, these
two still had each other, for a little while anyway.

It stuck her suddenly, she didn't know why it happened at that moment, when she saw them so
cheerful, she thought of all four of them, the smile slipped from her lips, the closest of friends, as
close as she Harry and Ron were, and how no matter their differences in the end they had all died
for the same reason. To save Harry. Even Peter.

She wondered if Harry had thought of it like that. She knew he blamed himself still for Sirius
death, not without reason, but the others? He was the type of person who would take it on, that he
should have acted sooner in Remus case, that he should have ... well she couldn't think of a way
that he could have prevented his parents deaths but she wouldn't be surprised if he thought he
should have.

'We boring you Hermione?' Sirius asked suddenly.

'What? ... no, fine,' she said trying to clear her mind of the depressing thoughts and hoist a smile
back on to her face. 'Sorry, what were you talking about?'

'Just the good old days.' Remus said, 'Where did you go to school Hermione?'

'Er ... Salem Institute in Massachusetts, in the States.'

'How come? Didn't your parents like Hogwarts?'

'Ah, no it wasn't that … um, we moved to America when I was ten, I'm a muggleborn you see, so
they didn't know what was coming. My folks are dentists and Mum got a job as a Professor at
Dental College over there. I'm a bit sad I didn't get to go to Hogwarts, it sounds amazing.'

'What's Salem like?'

'Well ... she said 'It's quite modern, all girls though – but it was only built in the seventeenth
century and the original buildings are small, with quite a few added over the years. From what
Sirius says the classes are the same as at Hogwarts. Although we really only did History of
American witchcraft rather than the broader topic you have, I had to learn most of Europe's story
from my parents, and the magical part in my spare time. But that's okay, I love history.'

Remus gave her a funny look. 'Are you taking the micky?'

'Um … no,' Hermione said slightly put out. She and the older Remus had spent many dinner
conversations at Grimmauld Place discussing the wizarding past, while the others babbled around
them. Had he just been humouring her?

Sirius was laughing under his breath.

'What?' they both said turning to look at him.

'I told you Hermione – you are the girl version of him.'
Remus started to chuckle, 'The girl version of me? Why do you put up with him?' He asked looking
at Hermione, 'Insulting you like that ... merlin, Padfoot no wonder you can't keep a girl.'

'That's another thing.' Sirius said 'What's with you telling Prongs I've got a secret girlfriend? Me
and Hermione are just doing a bit of work for Dumbledore.'

'Oh, so you're not ...' Remus looked awkward,

'No,' said Hermione, 'like you said – why would I put up with him? Although,' she looked at Sirius,
'we are going to be acting for Sirius family, Dumbledore wants information, and he thinks the best
way is for Sirius to appear as though he's ... er ... settled down a bit.'

Remus burst out laughing, 'That's going to be some act!'

Hermione gave a fake grimace, 'Yes well, these things we do for Queen and Country.'

A/N: Sorry for the terribly cliched song reference. It was to perfect to ignore. Thanks Warren
Zevon.
 The Invitation

2nd July

Sirius,

I have spoken with your mother. She is grateful you feel remorse for all the shame your
indiscretions have caused her, and that you have come to your senses regarding the family and
your duty. She has asked me to invite you to dinner Saturday evening because she would like to
hear your apology in person. She has not forgiven you, your actions were so treasonous I believe it
will be very difficult for her. However if you are truly repentant and take your place as she desires
she will treat you civilly.

She also insists that Miss Dagworth-Granger accompany you – she has sent a letter to Ms. Fehr
requesting permission for her daughter's attendance. (She almost smiled when I told her the
rumours were true.)

Sincerely,

Pollux.

'Psycho bint!' Sirius snarled as he crushed the letter in his fist and lobbed it into the wastepaper
basket in the corner of his cubicle.

Frank Longbottom's face appeared over the chest high wall that divided each work space. 'Lady
troubles, Black?' He asked, smirking.

'Ha,' said Sirius, 'Not the kind you're thinking of Frank, It's my mother.'

Frank cringed, 'I know how that is. Bloody terrifying beasts aren't they? Merlin ... and I'm married
with a kid, she's got to be nice to me now, must be bloody rough for you.'

Sirius laughed, 'Yeah, a wife and kids, that pretty much gets you out of any kind of trouble.'

Frank nodded, 'Although, they're still rough on the wives, you should hear Alice complain about
my mum, poor Neville ... if we get through this war any girlfriend of his will need to be pretty
tough.'

Sirius chuckled. Frank was right. If Augusta was still alive when Neville started dating well ... she
and Alice would be quite formidable.

'So what does your mother want? I didn't think you talked to them.'

'Just the usual.' said Sirius, 'Stop being a Bloodtraitor ... get married ... shame on me ... et cetera, et
cetera.'

'Oh Right,' said Frank looking slightly sorry for him, suddenly his eyes widened, fixed on
something over Sirius's shoulder, before hurriedly sinking back behind the cubicle wall.

THWACK! A cane crashed down on Sirius's desk inches from his hand. 'Enough gossiping about
your mummy issues Black.' Barked Moody's voice. Sirius jumped and looked around. 'Back to
work! You too Longbottom!' Moody stumped off, Sirius could hear him grumbling under his
breath about time wasters.
As Sirius left the Ministry that evening he thought how glad he was that Frank didn't have to hide
the way James did. Frank and he had never been best mates, but he was friendly and trustworthy.
These days it was impossible to trust anyone at the Ministry that wasn't in the Order. Although,
Sirius realised as Wormtail flashed across his mind, the Order wasn't a guarantee either. Frank
didn't have to stay home like James because Augusta was there to protect Alice and Neville along
with several of Franks' uncles. They were a pureblood family too. It would seem suspicious for
them to be in hiding.

Lily on the other hand didn't have anyone to rely on in such a situation and the Order couldn't spare
guards for her and Harry when James could be there. He was wealthy enough that he didn't need to
work. So Dumbledore had set them up in a magically protected house that few knew about. He
didn't want to raise suspicion to the many spies that they were taking the prophecy seriously. James
and Lily hiding was not that unusual, Lily was a muggleborn after all. So James had left his job,
and Sirius could think of nothing except the happy day when Voldemort was dead, and they could
all go back to normal.

He reached the alley that Ministry workers used as the apparition point and rounded the corner,
glancing left and right to make sure there were no muggles about, he concentrated on Hermione's
balcony and turned into the darkness.

Tap Tap Tap,

Hermione looked up from her book – she had been re-reading a passage on Fiendfyre containment,
her wand flicking unconsciously in her hand as she practiced the wrist movement. Sirius was
outside the French doors grinning like a fool and waving a bit of crumpled parchment. She had
been so immersed in her reading she had forgotten the time.

For the last three weeks Sirius had called in to see her every day on his way to his flat after work,
and sometimes over the weekend. They normally had a cup of tea, and he would tell her any news
from the Ministry or the Order. If there was none, he would ask for stories of her time at Hogwarts
with Harry – spectacular snitch captures being his favourite. It was a nice little routine, he usually
only stayed for an hour or so before he went to meet Remus for dinner or, on occasion going to see
James and Lily.

She knew he enjoyed her company, on Monday just passed he'd told her it was good to talk to
someone with a bit of hope left in them. Hermione had pointed out the irony that she was the only
one who knew how terrible everything was about to get and yet, she was the one with hope.

She couldn't help agreeing with him however, she was surprised at the friendship they had
developed in only three weeks, for her she supposed it was not that strange – she had known him
before. He was so different now though, laughing and joking and full of energy, it made her so sad
that Harry hadn't known this Sirius. Although, she thought if he had, losing him at the Ministry
would have been even harder for him. Sirius was infectious. Totally mad, but there was just
something that made you want to be his friend. Hermione had always wondered why someone as
calm and sensible as Remus had put up with him – this was why. And seeing the two of them
together over the weekend had reinforced it.

Hermione unlocked the door with a flick of her wand as she set the kettle to boil.

'Did you win the lottery?' She asked looking at the parchment in his hand as he closed the door
behind him.

'What? Er ... no. It's an invitation to dinner from my grandfather.' He handed it to her before seizing
the collar of his Ministry robes and hauling them over his head.

'I never thought I'd see you smile at a letter from your family,' Hermione said, slightly amused at
the sight of him as he froze, half in, half out of his robes.

Shaking his head clear of the heavy fabric he said, 'Good point,' as a small frown creased his
forehead. He divested his arms from the robe and flung it over the back of the sofa, plonking
himself down at the small table, 'Much better,' he said, stretching his arms, 'When will wizards
learn? jeans and t-shirts are much more suitable attire.' He indicated himself and then Hermione.
They were both in jeans but while his t-shirt was grey, bearing the legend 'S.L.F' in bright red
letters, hers was plain and light blue.

'Yes,' she said, 'Who cares about Riddle? Let's lead a campaign to exterminate robes.'

'Hmm ...' He said, 'Well we might need a new manifesto, that sounds like we're promoting nudity,'
then he smirked, 'not that I'd take exception to that. But perhaps we'd lose support.'

'Right,' she said, chuckling slightly under her breath.

'So when are you going to dinner with the family?' She asked as she filled the tea pot and put some
biscuits on a plate.

'Ah, not I my dear, but we.' He said, his voice drawling like an upper-class toff.

'We?' Hermione repeated in trepidation. She brought the tea tray to the table and sat down, then she
began to read the creased letter.

'Indeed Madam, I have been instructed to bring the lovely Miss Fehr, Heiress to the Dagworth-
Granger estate, who my mother has it I have been courting, to meet her and my grandfather.' He
flourished his hand at her in a manner in keeping with his tone.

'Good God,' Hermione muttered, 'and will you be behaving like a pompous prat all evening?'

'Most definitely.' He said sombrely, still in character. Then as he reached for the tea pot he said,
'Brilliant, bickies! and snatched one from the plate happily. Hermione just shook her head.
Honestly, how could he be the biggest pureblood git one second and ten years old the next?

'What?' he asked around a mouth full of biscuit, catching her expression.

'Nothing,' she said, 'I'm just a bit scared of your family.'

He swallowed and began to pour tea, 'Who isn't?'

'What if they realise I'm a muggleborn?'

'They won't. You read the letter, Mother has sent a request to Lady Frederica for your company.
That will keep her happy. She'll be to blinded by the idea of multiple, non-inbred, pureblood Black
children to believe it's not true.'

Hermione gulped. 'Sirius,' she said, 'are you sure we can pull this off?'

'No doubt' he said. 'I've always been an excellent actor when it came to her and you've just got to
pretend to be in love with me,' He laughed. 'The world's easiest task. You'll just have to watch you
don't fall for my charms,'

Hermione snickered rolling her eyes 'Right ...' she said.

'What?' He said looking slightly wounded. 'I'm charming. Girls love me.'

'Girls, maybe' said Hermione. 'But women are another story.' She reached out to brush the biscuit
crumbs from the front of his t-shirt, still chortling.

'Oh, shut up.' He muttered, swiping her hand aside.

3rd July

The following evening Hermione was having a last cup of tea before bed, planning her work for
the next day. She had decided that tomorrow would be spent reorganising her information, mainly
to keep her mind off the dinner engagement with the sinister Mrs Black that evening. She had
arrived in this time with one folder, it had been full. Now she had three folders that she could barely
close. One for each fortnight he had been in 1981.

She was keeping a record of everything. Every time she met with Dumbledore, everything Sirius
told her about the outside world, the names of the Aurors he worked with and his opinions on
them, as well as other Ministry employees. Dates, times and locations Death Eaters were caught or
crimes committed. The Order too, although Sirius couldn't give her a lot of information on this, his
attention seemed to wander in meetings and he could relay the general plan of action but never
specifics. She had resolved to talk to Remus about it next time she got the chance.

Nearly a week had passed since Hermione and Sirius had visited Remus at his ridiculously well
hidden abode. She had been busying herself as usual, she had read her way through most of the
books Dumbledore had given her, and felt that the notes she had taken were enough of a reference
tool to keep her on her toes around the Blacks.

She was just finishing her concealment charms on the folders – it wouldn't do for the cleaning staff
to see them – when a bright sliver streak flashed into the room. The phoenix patronus landed
gracefully on the back of the armchair in the sitting room, Hermione was surprised, before she
could move it opened its pointed beak a spoke in Dumbledore's voice:

'Hermione, please meet me at the Hogshead as soon as you are able.'

Hermione was stunned. What was going on … was someone hurt? As she gulped back the last of
her tea and snatched her cloak from where it was draped over one of the dining chairs she flipped
through her notes – who of the order was meant to die this week? So morbid ... she had to be
clinical about it however. Scanning down the page of deaths, she stopped in June - Benjy Fenwick
had been killed at the beginning of July. Hermione's finger shook as she ran it along the line
containing Benjy's name and approximate death date. Next to it was a small note – they only ever
found bits of him.

Hermione had not met Benjy, or anyone from his family – not that it was much comfort as she read
the line below his; Fabian and Gideon Prewett she shuddered. They were a different story. Ron's
uncles.

It was the first time in Hermione's life that she could remember wishing she had prepared less. She
was questioning her right to decide who deserved to live and who was expendable.

She knew it was logical and more secure to let events unfold as they were supposed to. To ensure
Riddle would get his information and proceed as he had done the first time. But she couldn't help
thinking how callous and selfish it was to let these brave fighters die just so the people she knew
would have a better life.
Surely as long as Wormtail was made secret keeper the events that mattered would still unfold as
they should. What would it hurt to let a few innocent people live? She would see what Dumbledore
needed first. Perhaps he just wanted to discuss the Horcruxes. Stepping onto her small balcony and
locking the doors with a tap of her wand she turned on the spot.
 The Gauntlet

3rd July

'Thank you for coming on such short notice,' Dumbledore said as Hermione entered the basement
room of the Hogshead.

'It's no problem Professor.' she replied quietly.

Hermione looked around the meeting table. There were four other men, one was Moody who
nodded a greeting to her. Hermione still found it odd to see his grizzled face with two normal eyes.
The two men sitting next to him both had mousey hair and looked very similar to each other. There
was something in their stature, the set of their shoulders and the way they lounged in their chairs
that was very familiar to Hermione. Sitting opposite them was a tall man, probably in his early
thirties, he was blond and smiled grimly at Hermione when she caught his eye.

'Gentlemen,' Dumbledore said, 'this is Hermione, she has been helping me with our quest behind
the scenes. I am hoping she will lend her skills this evening as well.' Moody nodded once more, the
other three men were sharing looks of surprise. 'Hermione, I would like you to meet Gideon
Prewett,' the mousy haired man next to Moody gave her a wink and a cheeky grin, 'His brother
Fabian,' said Dumbledore. Fabian followed his brothers' example adding a quick two fingered
salute from his brow, 'and Benjy Fenwick.' Dumbledore finished indicating the blond man seated
opposite. Benjy also grinned at her.

Despite these light hearted greetings Hermione was struggling to draw breath. It seemed like some
kind of cruel joke. These men, they were part of the well known fallen of the first war. How on
earth was she supposed to let them die now? They were suddenly real people to her, not just a
name on page or a face in a faded photograph. She could see Fred and George looking at her, that's
who the Prewett's reminded her of she realised now. Their hair might be the wrong colour and their
freckles were missing, but other than that the Weasley twins looked very much like their uncles.
What was she supposed to do now?

As if timed to break her out of her burgeoning panic, the door to the basement swung open, its iron
hinges creaked loudly and everyone looked around.

Sirius was standing there, leaning on the door frame and breathing heavily, 'Sorry,' he said in a
breathless voice, 'Came as quick as I could, what's happened?'

'Shut the door, Black,' Moody snapped.

Sirius complied, then noticing Hermione he said, 'You're alright then, what are you doing here?'

'Not sure yet,' she answered, she felt slightly better with Sirius there. 'I was just being introduced.'

'Right,' said Sirius.

He took a seat beside Benjy who shifted away from him slightly saying, 'No termites tonight, right
mate?'

'Er ...' Sirius's cheeks pinked a little as Moody growled and glowered at him across the table.
Hermione was confused. Sirius Black, embarrassed? The Prewett brothers were restraining
chortles behind their hands.
'Well,' said Dumbledore, a strange tremor in his voice as his moustache twitched, 'On with
business. Benjy here has come across some interesting information.' The light moment seemed to
have passed, all five men were concentrating on Dumbledore now. 'The location of the hostages
has been discovered. The Bones children are being held in a house in Glasgow, we believe it
belongs to Walden Macnair. From what Benjy has been able to tell they are alive, Voldemort had
hoped by keeping the children he would convince Edgar and his wife to join the cause. We don't
know what state the three boys are in, but they have only been there for six days so we may hope
they will not be too scarred from the experience. I have not informed Edgar of this yet. I wish to get
conformation that his boys are unharmed before we tell him.'

'You want us to scout around?' Sirius interrupted, obviously excited about getting to do something
useful for the Order.

'Hold your thestrals, Black,' Moody grunted. 'Dumbledore you can't send her,' he pointed at
Hermione, 'or him, for that matter,' He gestured with his thumb at Sirius.

'I am aware of the dangers Alastor, but we are stretched thin. The others are watching Malfoy
Manor and Forte de Sang. And those who are not, have been for the last two nights. This mission
has minimal risk and the health of Edgar's boys is at stake. I do not want to wait or send tired
people for that matter. I would like for these five to collect some geographical information, entries
and exits, hiding places, when the watch changes, and of course, its magical protection. Two to
mark out the area for us, and the other three as cover.

'But if Black and the girl are seen,' Moody pressed, not looking convinced.

'Alastor, you must trust me.' Dumbledore said calmly.

Benjy and the Prewetts were shooting confused glances between Hermione and Sirius. 'Er ...
Dumbledore? Why can't they be seen?' Benjy asked.

Moody seemed to have realised he had said too much. 'Black is at the Ministry and is trying to
appear impartial, as for the girl, the more unknown members we have the better.' he said gruffly.

The three men looked unconvinced but did not argue.

Hermione was surprised that Moody had continued to refer to her as 'the girl' it seemed very rude.
Perhaps he did not want her last name bandied about. He and Dumbledore were trying to spread
the rumour that she was a pureblood heiress after all. Still, he could call her by her first name.
Grouchy old git she thought.

'So when are we leaving?' Sirius asked, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

'Very soon,' said Dumbledore, looking at his pocket watch, 'It's ten thirty – have you all eaten?' He
looked around at them all, 'You will need to be there for several hours to gauge the place.'

Hermione nodded but the four younger men all glanced at each other. 'Well Dumbledore ...' Fabian
said, 'dinner was a while ago.'

Dumbledore smiled, 'I don't know why I even asked.'

He flicked his wand and food appeared on the table in front of them, loaves of bread, a wheel of
cheese and half a baked ham. Another flick and cutlery, crockery and a large flagon of pumpkin
juice joined the food.

As the young men dug in, Hermione said quietly, 'Professor? Are you sure it's wise for me to go?'
'Yes Hermione.' Dumbledore replied at once, 'You will be cover along with Misters Black and
Fenwick. The Prewetts are very talented scouts, you'll just be there to warn them and get them
away safely if something unforeseen happens.'

Hermione didn't know what she should do – all three of these men are killed this week. It was too
much of a coincidence that they were all going together on a mission at short notice. If Hermione
was to say something would it change anything? The worst part was that she was frightened to go
with them. If this was a doomed mission she could be killed too, and where would that leave them?

Dumbledore was watching her stricken expression, 'Hermione,' he said, 'it will be fine. It's only
reconnaissance; no one will even know you're there –'

There was a sudden, violent knock at the door, 'Albus!' thundered an angry voice.

Dumbledore sighed resignedly as he pushed back his chair and stood up, 'Excuse me, family calls,'
he reached the door and opened it cautiously.

Aberforth's angry face peered into the room, 'I knew it!' he accused, spying the laden table, 'How
many times Albus? Can't you just ask? It's stealing! I'll be adding that lot to your tab.'

'Of course,' said Dumbledore, 'How much is the total now?' he asked conversationally.

'I dunno ... ruddy heaps, I'll have to recruit a Gringotts goblin to get it tallied up.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience.'

Alberforth huffed angrily, 'That you are.' He closed the door with a snap.

'All right,' said Gideon in a whisper, 'Code words are Termites and Elm.'

Sirius felt his cheeks heat again and was glad for the dark, he would never live that one down.

'We'll be back in twenty minutes to check in.' Gideon continued quietly.

'No problem.' Fenwick breathed back.

As Sirius watched the shimmering movement that was the disillusioned Prewett brothers sneaking
off down the street, his heart was racing. It felt so good to be out doing something that would
actually help. He didn't know the Bones boys very well, but they were children and no child should
have to be in such a situation.

Fenwick, Hermione and Sirius were concealed between a skip and the stone wall of an alley five
houses down from Macnair's place. The old soot stained terraced houses loomed up on either side
of them in the old area of Glasgow that mostly populated by muggles. Sirius thought it a little
strange that the Death Eater would choose to live in such an area, maybe the old adage applied,
hiding in plain sight.

'I'll take first watch.' Fenwick's voice said from Sirius's left. All three of them were disillusioned as
well.

This was part of the battle plan. Hermione and Sirius would stay hidden until the Prewetts returned
while Fenwick was lookout. They were the reserve in case something went horribly wrong. When
the Prewetts came back with a report they would either all stay hidden and watch if there was
activity at the property, or if it was all clear all five would move to the alley on the other side of
the road where they had a clear view of the front door. Then they were to split up again. Gideon
and Fabian checking the roof and the sewer for disguised exits, while the other three tested the
magical defences. Fenwick was a dab hand at cartography, so once they had all met for the second
time they would pool their knowledge on parchment to take back to Dumbledore. Then would
begin the plan to get the boys out alive.

Sirius could hear Hermione's quickened breathing next to him. 'You alright?' He asked in a
whisper.

'Fine.' she breathed back 'Just trying not to think about the diseases we're going to catch crouching
in this filth.'

Sirius laughed under his breath. 'You're not wrong,' he said, surveying the narrow gap they were
hidden in. There was a surprising amount of refuse that seemed to have missed the skip entirely,
fast-food wrappers and empty bottles being the most pleasant decoration, he really didn't want to
concentrate too much on what else might be there. The smell was quite over-powering at first but
as the minutes passed it seemed to lessen, he looked at his watch – holding his arm out at a strange
angle to catch the dim glow of the street light on the clock face. The Prewetts should be back any
minute. 'Not long now,' he said to Hermione.

Ten minutes later there was still no sign of them.

Another ten minutes passed.

'What should we do?' Hermione's quiet worried question was barely more than a breath.

Suddenly there was a slight shuffling on his other side, 'Termites,' said Fenwick's voice in a
whisper.

'Elm.' Sirius murmured back, 'Where are they?' he asked.

'Not sure,' said Fenwick, 'I reckon we go and have a look.'

'Alright.' Sirius agreed, he started to move out from behind the skip.

Then, with a rumble that shook the night there was an almighty explosion above them. The brick
wall of the alley began to crumble – there was a shout – whether wizard or muggle Sirius wasn't
sure. A hand seized him roughly around the wrist and tugged him back into the narrow hiding
place. Bricks were falling from the high wall above them. Then it was suddenly much darker as
Hermione whispered something and the metal lid of the dumpster opened, and tilted back, resting
on the wall, the masonry falling on it instead of them.

'Where's Benjy?' Hermione said hurriedly.

'He's here,' said Sirius, 'Fenwick? Get under here, Fenwick?' There was no answer.

'Termites, Termites,' came a panting voice, not hushed at all.

Sirius realised it was Fabian, 'Elm,' he said.

'Come on!' Fabian puffed, he was out of breath, 'They've cast an anti-disap jinx we have to run for
it! You lot alright?'

'What's going on?' Sirius said, as he pulled Hermione out from under their temporary shelter, his
eyes widened when he saw it was not only Fabian, but three boys as well. The youngest on
Fabian's still disillusioned back couldn't have been more than six, the other two who looked to be
about ten clutching each other and looking pale and horrified, staring at the pile of rubble.

Hermione let out a gasp of horror beside him and he looked down too, Fenwick was lying there –
half covered in brick and plaster, one arm at an unnatural angle, blood trickling from his ear.
Before Sirius could even absorb what was happening, there was another shout.

'Termites! Being followed!' Gideon bellowed as he pelted around the corner.

Hermione's indistinct shape was bent over Fenwick, 'There's no pulse.' she said quietly.

'We'll have to leave him,' Fabian said in a rush. 'We can come back later.' He pointed his wand at
what remained of the wall, 'Reducto,' the rubble caused by the spell covered their friend's body,
'That'll have to do. Come on,' Gideon had nearly reached them now, 'Black, you and the girl take
those two. We have to leg it!'

Sirius mind was racing, they were just meant to have a look! What the hell? At least they had the
kids, but this was not the plan, Hermione was in danger – and that was a huge problem. Not that
the rest of them knew that. What was Dumbledore thinking sending her with them? If she was
killed … or captured … Sirius's chest felt cold despite the pumping of his blood as he grabbed the
hand of the nearest Bones and started to run … he couldn't let that happen. Not when they were
going to stop Voldemort. Without her, it wouldn't work.

'Hermione!' he called.

'Right here.' she replied quickly. The other Bones boy was running in front of her, she had her wand
out and was casting spells furiously back down the alley, the Death Eaters were in pursuit now.
Ten of them Sirius counted, and even as he watched two fell to Hermione's wand.

'Where are we going?' Sirius asked hurriedly as Gideon came level with him. He yanked at the
Bones boy's hand to pull him out of the way as a streak of orange shot passed and increased his
pace.

'Not sure,' Gideon said, 'we just need to get out of range of the jinx, go left at the end of the alley
we'll hold them back, give you a head start with the kids.'

Hermione let out a strange noise next to him as they ran, he looked at her, maybe she was just
puffed.

'Fabian!' Sirius called, 'Give me the little one.'

He could hear Fabian muttering something to the boy on his back and see the little boy nodding in
understanding, then Fabian said, 'One … two … three!' He stopped only for a second, the boy slid
down his legs and sprinted in Sirius's direction, Fabian turned and fired off several fast jets of red
light, two more of the Death Eaters collapsed.

Sirius released his hand from the older boy and said, 'Run with your brother.' The boy and
Hermione were already further ahead. Then the little boy collided with Sirius – he crouched down
– the thin arms were around his neck in a heartbeat and the young voice in his ear said, 'I'm
holding on,' it sounded breathy and uneven, as Sirius stood the boy linked his ankles in front of his
stomach and Sirius began to run in earnest.

Hermione and the other two boys were nearly at the other end of the alley, there were flashes of
colour and bits of mortar falling on either side of them. He could hear the Prewetts fighting hard –
keeping the pursuers at bay. He felt cowardly leaving them, but the children had to be rescued first.
And they shouldn't have got the bloody kids in the first place! Sirius thought angrily. Look at the
mess they were in! Why hadn't they followed the plan?

A hex rebounded off the wall next to Sirius as he ran, the boy on his back jumped slightly, 'Not far
now mate.' Sirius said to him. 'You right?'

'Yes.' the little voice said.

Hermione and the two boys rounded the corner just as Sirius caught up with them. 'Gideon said go
left.' Sirius said to her, she was breathing heavily, but seemed okay.

'Alright,' she said, 'you heard him boys, let's go,' and they took off again.

They couldn't just run, Sirius realised, they didn't know how wide this anti-disapparation jinx was,
it could be three miles like Moony's. They needed a plan. There was another alley across the road,
it was very narrow, barely wide enough for a motorbike to fit down. 'Hermione!' he called, she
turned, 'We need a plan!'

'I know!' she said desperately, 'I'm thinking!'

'Over here.' He called, heading toward the alley and they ducked across the road lined with parked
cars and into the gap between buildings.

'Homenum revelio,' Hermione waved her wand the moment they stopped, 'Okay, we're clear for
now, you guard the entry Sirius.' she said.

'Right.' he moved a bit closer the street, he was glad she was taking charge, he was best thinking on
his feet. But whenever he stopped he always needed a few moments before his brain would
function properly again.

Hermione was crouched at eye-level with the three boys who were all standing close together,
shivering slightly, 'Okay,' she said, 'Are you hurt?'

One of the older two held out his arm Sirius could see a large gash on his forearm. But the other
two shook their heads. Hermione touched her wand to the deep cut, it began to heal. 'What are your
names?' she asked kindly.

The injured boy spoke first, 'I'm Graeme Bones, these are my brothers. Aaron and David.'

'How did you find us?' the smallest one asked, seeming surprisingly unfazed by the whole thing.

'We know your father.' Hermione said calmly. 'We're going to take you to him.'

The little one smiled, 'Oh good.' he said. 'He must be quite worried about us.'

Graeme gave his little brother a hard look. 'Of course he's worried Davey, we were kidnapped.'

Davey's lip began to tremble, the other brother – Aaron – put his arm around him. 'It's okay, we're
safe now. We are safe, aren't we?' He looked at Hermione, who in turn looked at Sirius.

He cleared his throat, 'We're safer than we were ten minutes ago,' Sirius said. 'And you three are
definitely safer with us than with the Death Eaters.'

Aaron and Graeme shared a look, then Graeme spoke. 'Where are the Prewetts? Shouldn't they be
here by now?'
Sirius swallowed. He didn't really want to think about that. How do you tell a ten year old that the
two men that rescued them were probably dead?

'They are keeping the Death Eaters back so we can get away.' Hermione said. 'They will be
fighting like heroes.' Her voice broke on the last word. Then she turned to Sirius, 'I have an idea.'
He breathed a sigh of relief, everything he thought of so far could not be achieved with three kids
in tow.

'What?' He asked.

'We don't know how wide this jinx is right?' she asked, he shook his head. 'And we can't just run in
the hope we'll make it to the edge of it?'

'No.' he said, 'Not with these three.'

'We can run.' Aaron piped up.

'Yes.' Hermione said, 'You were very good back there. But we can't all run and cover you at the
same time,' there was a sudden blinding flash of white from the direction of the fight between the
Prewetts and the Death Eaters, 'Wait here,' Hermione said as she passed Sirius and went back out
into the street.

More light, another rumble. Sirius wondered how the Ministry would explain this one to the
muggles, there were people looking out their windows now, if the twitchy curtains were anything
to judge by. It wouldn't be long before they were in the road trying to get a better look at the
ruckus.

There was a flash of light and a vibrating sound much closer to the alley.

'Get back.' Sirius whispered to the boys, 'Get ready run if I tell you to. Davey stick with your
brothers this time.'

'Sirius – Termites.' It was Hermione's voice hissing at him, he turned to see her in the driver's seat
of a big muggle car, the light had been from the headlamps, he felt his jaw drop slightly, brilliant
he thought. 'Boys, come on,'

'Termites,' Hermione said again, her voice was wary and her wand was pointing at him.

'Shit, sorry.' he said as he got closer to the car, 'Elm.'

'Well hurry up then!' she said impatiently.

The boys were amazed as they climbed in the back, 'Lie down,' Hermione instructed them. 'you'll
be safer.'

Sirius got into the passenger seat looking at Hermione's shimmering outline, 'You can drive this?'
He asked, slightly awed.

'Obviously.' She answered tersely.

As she put her foot down, there was more light and shouting from the first alley.

They were nearly level with it when two figures came hurtling out of it. Sirius recognised them at
once, Fabian supporting Gideon, they were alive! 'Hermione,' Sirius said urgently, 'they're okay,
look! – How do I get this window to open?' he asked, pushing on it.
'The lever.' she said.

He grabbed it and pulled.

'No, wind it.' she said.

He wound, the window began to open, then he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Fabian
looked in their direction, 'Termites!' Sirius called.

Fabian began to hurry toward them, his eyes were wide. 'Elm, what on earth, Black?'

'Muggleborn.' Sirius said, directing his thumb at Hermione.

There was a click at the rear of the car, 'Lift the boot,' Hermione said, leaning across Sirius to
speak to Fabian, 'Get in there, the kids are in the back seat.'

Fabian looked at her strangely, and then at his shoes.

'No, the boot,' Hermione said, 'the back door of the car.'

'Oh, right,' Fabian hauled the door up pushed his brother inside and climbed in after him.

'I knew I picked a station wagon for a reason.' Hermione muttered as the boot door slammed
closed.

'They're still coming.' Fabian said. 'We got all but one of the ones that followed us, so
reinforcements will be on the way. Let's get out of here!'

Sirius looked worriedly out to the street again, 'Fenwick,' he said.

'I know,' said Fabian. 'What a waste. They hit that pile with a blasting curse. Blew it to bits.'

Sirius winced. 'What a way to go. Let's leave.' he said to Hermione.

She jiggled the knob inbetween their seats and then the engine revved and they took off down the
street. As they passed the alley mouth Sirius saw that Fabian was right, there were already more
black cloaked figures appearing in the destroyed gap.

'Is Gideon okay?' Sirius asked over his shoulder.

'Yeah, they got him with a knee reversing hex, he passed out the minute the last Death Eater made
a run for it. You boys alright?' Fabian asked, peering over the seat.

Graeme and Aaron were both pale, but they nodded and gave small smiles. Davey was asleep, or
possibly fainted, curled up in the space behind the passenger seat.

As they drove further from the attack scene Sirius felt his relief that they had survived diminishing.
Anger was coming now, he could feel it. He didn't really want to yell at Fabian, he didn't know
what had happened yet, but he couldn't believe what a balls-up the whole thing had been. If
Hermione hadn't pulled him back under the shelter of the skip he could have been lying next to
Fenwick in that rubble. And then this whole thing they were planning would turn to bollocks.
Hermione needed his family connections, without them Lily and James were going to die. Why had
Dumbledore sent them?

'We need to tell Dumbledore what's happened.' Hermione said, 'Are we going straight to him?'
'Yeah I guess, we'll apparate to Hogsmeade to – ' but he broke off, there were flashing lights all
around them again. Sirius turned in his seat, wand trained on the outside.

Fabian shouted, 'Faster!'

But Hermione laughed, the blue and red glare was getting brighter, Sirius suddenly had a horrible
feeling that this was all a trap.

'It's the Muggle Police,' Hermione said, talking fast. 'I, um, borrowed this car, they're not going to
be very understanding.'

'What do we do?' Sirius asked her, 'We could just obliviate them, although we're supposed to get
Ministry clearance for that. And this is an Order mission, the Ministry isn't always understanding
of our renegade measures. We must be outside the jinx range by now.'

He also thought that the last thing the needed was for Hermione to be known as part of the Order
by the Ministry. But he didn't say it aloud, Fabian was already suspicious of the comments made
by Moody before they left.

'When I pull over, we have to apparate, all of us. Graeme?' Hermione said, in her calm and sure
voice. 'can you get a tight hold on Davey with one hand and hold onto Sirius with the other please?'

'Yes,' he said quietly.

'Good. Aaron? I want you to hold tight to Fabian's hand. Fabian? Hogsmeade, as soon as I pull over
– okay?'

'What's that noise?' Fabian asked, sounding panicked.

The police siren had started up behind them. The car was very close now.

'Are you all ready?' Hermione asked, looking in the review mirror.

There was a chorus of yeses from the back of the car.

Hermione pulled the car off to the side of the road abruptly, 'Go!' she said. Sirius reached over and
grabbed her hand – his other one already behind the seat firmly holding Graeme's, he turned
sharply in his seat, and they were pulled in to the suffocating darkness.

They landed in a heap in Hogsmeade, Davey was crying and Graeme retched slightly before going
to comfort his brother. Sirius was on his feet in a heartbeat, pulling Hermione with him. 'That was
bloody brilliant!' He said hugging her, 'A muggle car! I never would have thought of it!'

'Er …' Hermione looked up at him, embarrassed by the praise and his exuberant continuing hug,
'Well … as you said,' she pointed to herself, 'Muggleborn.'

'Termites?'

Sirius smiled at the now familiar call of Fabian's voice. 'Elm,' he called back as he released her.
'Hermione, can you send a patronus to Dumbledore? Get him to bring Pomfrey – to the Hogshead.'

'No problem,' she said, as she went to check the boys.

Sirius moved toward Fabian's voice, lifting his disillusionment charm as he went. Gideon was
awake now and sitting, his back against the wall of Madam Puddifoots. Aaron was smiling as he
realised they were actually safe now. Fabian was sitting next to his brother looking exhausted.
'Up you get,' said Sirius reaching out a hand to him. 'Into the pub – then you can rest all you like.'
He turned to see Hermione ushering the two other boys into the Hogshead, 'You go on. I'll help
Gideon. Aaron, you go with Fabian.' He said, looking down at Gideon as the other two made their
way to the inn. He was grey faced and sweating. 'You right mate?'

'Not really.' Gideon said, 'But alive, so I guess that's a bonus,' he looked at his leg with a grimace,
'Unfortunately, my knee is backwards – and it hurts like a bitch.'

'Dumbledore is on his way, I told him to bring the matron. You'll be right as rain soon enough.' He
bent down and hoisted Gideon to his feet and helped him hobble to the Hogshead's entrance.

'How could you send us Dumbledore?' Sirius asked, 'Honestly, what a disaster! She could have
been captured. Or killed!'

'Sirius you need to calm down. I'm sorry that it did not go to plan tonight, but you heard Fabian's
explanation. Macnair was the only Death Eater in the house. It was an opportunity too good to
miss.'

Sirius was on his feet striding the length of the empty basement in the Hogshead, he was so
agitated by the way Dumbledore was watching him calmly. Didn't he understand?

'You're sorry? He wasn't the only one there for long! Fenwick's dead, and so could she have been.
Then what would we do? Don't you want Voldemort killed? You can't risk her like that!'

'Sirius please. Do not question my loyalty. The loss of Benjy is devastating, but Hermione tells me
that the first time around Fabian and Gideon were also lost, and the Bones boys.'

Sirius took a breath. 'What?' He said harshly. 'Merlin, Dumbledore, you're fucking with time here!
You might think you know everything, but look what's happened now! What if they do something
and Peter doesn't … FUCK!' He took a shuddering breath trying to still the rage that was pounding
against his ear drums. 'I can't fucking believe this!'

'Sirius, do not speak to me like that. I did what I thought was best. I'm terribly sorry for Benjy's
family, and for the distress this is obviously causing you, but arguing with me will not change
anything. I suggest you see Miss Granger safely home. Perhaps she will be able to talk some sense
into you.'

'INTO ME?' Sirius shouted incredulously, losing all control, 'Dumbledore! I'm not the one making
the wrong decisions here!'

'Aren't you?' Dumbledore said in a dangerous voice, 'I believe most people believe it unwise to
start a fight with me Mr Black.'

Sirius gulped. Something changed in the light blue eyes, the twinkle had vanished. There was a fire
brewing there. He had been pushing the limit, he knew that, but he was so flabbergasted that
Dumbledore would take such a risk with her. She was too valuable. Why didn't he get that?

'Fine!' Sirius snapped. 'We can talk about it another time. I need a drink.' He wrenched the door
open and stormed up the passage to the bar.

Hermione was sitting at a table in the corner her hood up to hide her face. The others had all gone
up to the school to spend the night in the hospital wing. Edgar Bones and his wife had met them
there – So happy to be reunited with their children. Sirius had said he would go and greet them after
he'd spoken to Dumbledore, but he couldn't do it now. He was so ridiculously angry, he just wanted
a drink, and to make sure Hermione wasn't sent off on any other supposedly safe missions.

'Good grief!' Hermione said as he approached. 'What on earth did Dumbledore do to you?' Sirius
tried to arrange his expression to look less axe-murdery.

'Nothing,' he said. 'We just had words, I told him I didn't approve of you being involved in things
like that.'

Hermione gave him a funny look and pushed her untouched glass of Firewhiskey toward him. 'And
why not?' she said a little heatedly, 'Without me the whole lot of you would probably be dead.'

'Exactly.' Sirius said throwing back the drink in two quick mouthfuls. 'He's messing with time. You
said you can't affect things here 'cause you don't know what it will do to the timeline, that the
people who die leading up to Hallowe'en have to die, or they could change something and
Voldemort might not come on the right day or at the right time.'

'Yes, that's true.' she sighed, 'But Sirius, I couldn't let the kids die, that's not right.'

'Fair enough.' Sirius said, 'But the Prewetts?' he was surprised that he could even ask such a thing.

'I know … I really thought they were already dead. I'm not sorry though. I think that as long as
Peter becomes secret keeper we'll be okay. The Death Eaters were very quiet the week leading up
to Hallowe'en so I think that there shouldn't be too much to upset the schedule.'

'I trust your judgement,' Sirius said quietly, 'But I just feel like Dumbledore isn't taking this
seriously enough. I mean what if you were captured? They'd make you talk. They'd know
everything.'

Hermione looked at him, affronted, ' They'd make me talk? I'll have you know your sadistic bitch of
a cousin Bellatrix did capture me on the last Horcrux hunt. She tortured me. I didn't talk. In fact I
tricked her. Don't underestimate me Sirius. I'm tougher than I look.'

Sirius was taken aback, Bellatrix tortured her? Bellatrix? Her cruciatus curse is supposedly as bad
as Voldemorts. He looked at Hermione with newfound respect. 'Sorry.' he said and he meant it. 'I
didn't realise. I was just worried.'

'That's quite alright.' She said with a small smile. 'Ron and Harry do the same thing, and they know
how capable I am. I can't really blame you.'

He grinned at her, his temper was under control again. How did she always manage to do that?
'Shall we go then?' He asked.

'Yes' she said, 'I'm exhausted.'

They left the pub and apparated onto the narrow balcony outside her room, 'Thank you chaperone,'
Hermione said, 'I think I can open the door by myself.'

He smirked at her. 'I'm sure you can, being so capable and all.'

'Oh, shut up.' She said unlocking the door.

'You were brilliant tonight.' He said earnestly.

'Thank you.' she said, 'You were pretty useful yourself.' She looked at her watch. 'Sirius, it's 2am –
I'm for sleep, you need to rest too. We'll need to be on top form tomorrow night.'

'I will, I'll come by to get you at six.' Sirius said.

'Goodnight then.' she smiled once more giving him a slightly curious look and left him standing
there as she closed the door.

Sirius could feel a niggling that was like worry as he stood there. He didn't want anything to
happen to her, not just because then Voldemort would be harder to fight but because … because
they were friends, he realised with a bit of a shock. He hadn't made new friends since school.

He smiled slightly, thinking how glad he was that she had taken it upon herself to achieve such an
insane goal, not just for Prongs and Lily's sake or for his futures sake but just because she was fun,
and clever, and –

'You know, it's quite creepy to walk past this door and see you still standing there – you scared me
half to death.' Hermione had opened the door and was frowning at him, half-amused, half-
concerned. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, fine,' he said, startled but grinning. 'See ya.' and he turned into the darkness.

'Such a strange fellow sometimes' Hermione muttered as she closed the door again.

A/N: The Gauntlet - Dropkick Murphys

 Wahrheit und Ehre

4th July

As Hermione waited for Sirius to arrive the following evening she was terrified. She was still
slightly shaken from the events of the night before, but the impending engagement was taking up
most of her fretting capabilities.

She'd fixed her hair, elegantly pulled away from her face and curling smoothly down her back –
the empty bottle of Sleek-Eazy's hair potion still sat on the bathroom counter - and put on her face,
something she hadn't really bothered with since arriving in 1981. But she wasn't dressed. She was
wearing the very fluffy robe from the bathroom instead. Sirius had said he would bring her
something appropriate to wear. She was nervous about this, while Sirius tended to look
fashionable, both for a muggle and a wizard - excusing the awful Ministry uniform – she did not
think he had any experience in dressing women – undressing perhaps – especially for occasions
such as a pureblood heiress meeting her boyfriend's family for the first time.

Her trepidations on his attire choices aside, she was about to enter the place where the locket was
kept. The place she, Harry and Ron had hidden while on the run. The dark and forbidding house
that drove the older Sirius to the depression and recklessness that got him killed.

The knock at the balcony doors made her jump, wiping her sweaty palms on the robe she hurried to
open it.

Sirius was slightly paler than usual as he entered the room and said, 'Hello Miss Fehr, ready for an
evening of torment and horror in the Ancient and Most Bloody Evil House of Black?'

She smiled nervously. 'Well when you put it like that ... how can a girl refuse?'

'Here,' he said, handing her two boxes and a garment bag, 'they should fit, the seamstress at Twilfitt
and Tattings was quite excited to be dressing such an important young woman. She questioned me
for hours. – I've never found a conversation about the female form so dull in all my life.'

'Oh Sirius,' Hermione said with a grin, 'I'm so flattered that you love me for my mind. Your mother
will be proud.' He gulped, and paled even further. 'Are you Okay?' she asked.

'Yeah yeah, it'll be fine.' He muttered, 'I just fucking hate the hag.'

Hermione adjusted the boxes in her grip so she could pat his arm consolingly, 'Never mind, it will
be worth it, Death To Voldemort remember?' That was what the DTV he ended his letters with
stood for.

He let out a little nervous laugh, 'Ha, you're right, at least the food will be good, Mother always
over does it for guests.'

'You look very handsome by the way.' Hermione said smirking at him, trying to tease him back to
his normal self, 'It's quite unusual.'

'Hey!' He said, with a proper smile. 'None of that – bloody vicious, back-handed female
compliments.'

Hermione was glad she'd made him smile. She knew how difficult this first meeting would be for
him, and besides, he did look rather handsome – clean shaven with his usually untidy, shaggy hair
brushed back, his dark tailored dress robes pressed, a white shirt and dark grey striped tie showing
at the neckline.

'What's that?' Hermione asked, pointing to a silver ring he wore on the middle finger of his left
hand.

'Urg – don't remind me.' He said, raising his fist to show her and looking away as if it was the most
repulsive thing he'd ever seen. It was a wide silver band with the Black family crest engraved on it.

'I feel like it's burning my finger off.' He said shaking his hand, 'But we have to play the part.' He
scowled at the ring once more and then looked at Hermione again, 'Now go and get changed, I
want to make sure I did a good job.'

Hermione took the boxes and bag to the bedroom, she opened the larger box first, it looked like a
shoe box. To her surprise it contained – shoes. Quite lovely shoes. Deep blue pumps with a little
sparkly buckle on the ankle strap.

She unzipped the bag next, inside – her nerves at Sirius choices vanishing – was a plain blue dress,
a little lighter in colour than the shoes, but very much to her taste, a high neckline with sleeves that
she thought would end at her elbows.

The fabric had a slight stretch she realised as she unzipped the back and stepped into it, it was a
good thing it stretched too, because the bodice was very fitted, as were the sleeves, the box pleated
skirt was loose and made of stiffer material it fell to just below her knees.

Also in the bag was a thin little belt that matched her shoes, the buckle also sparkly. She waved her
wand and her dress zipped up, she added the belt and sat on the bed to fasten her shoes. Then she
noticed the other box, a smaller flat one. When she opened it she found a beautiful necklace,
gleaming in the light of the bedside lamp – it looked like diamonds set in silver, surely Sirius
wouldn't have bought her a diamond necklace? She picked up the box and went back out into the
sitting room.

'Please tell me' she said, holding the box out to him, 'that this is not what I think it is.'

'Er ... it's a necklace ... diamond I think.' Sirius said peering into the case, 'Dumbledore gave it to
me. It's from your mother. Sorry I forgot to tell you. Lady Frederica is really getting into this. She
sent you that ...' he rummaged in his pocket, coming out with a small velvet ring box, 'and this.'

'What?' asked Hermione, 'Really?'

'She wants Voldemort gone as much as the rest of us, and I think she's rather enjoying the idea of
having a daughter.'

'But she doesn't even know me!' Hermione exclaimed, a little thrown by the generosity of the
unknown Frederica.

'She wants to meet you,' Sirius continued, 'after everything is sorted of course.'

'What?' Hermione said again, 'Is there anything else you've forgotten to tell me?'

'Don't think so ...' he shrugged his shoulders, 'she sent you some Fehr family jewels and would like
to meet you. That was all.'

'Bloody hell Sirius.' She said exasperatedly.

'Don't know what the big deal is.' He said, looking genuinely perplexed, 'It's just a necklace – and a
ring.'

'It's a diamond necklace that looks goblin made!' Hermione's nerves were causing her temper to
rise.

'Yeah well, there's diamonds on your shoes and belt as well, why don't you care about them?' he
asked, seeming to be completely lost as to the issue with diamonds.

Hermione looked down at the offending articles, 'Are you kidding? Did Lady Frederica send these
too?'

'Er ... no I bought those.' He shrugged again, 'Thought they'd match the rest.'

'What the hell?' Hermione huffed, she felt overwhelmed, she had thought Ron extravagant for
buying her a pair of diamond studs for her twentieth birthday, the first birthday she'd celebrated
after the end of the war. But those were miniscule in comparison to the necklace she held, and the
little inset row that ran around her belt and shoe buckles were very, very tiny but, still, diamonds.

'I'm so sorry,' Sirius said sounding half-amused, 'I didn't realise you had such a moral objection to
nice things, don't tell Lady Frederica, you'll hurt her feelings.'

Hermione didn't know what to say. How much had he spent?

'Hermione,' he said, apparently able to read her mind, 'this is important, you have to look the part,
which you do by the way, very lovely, the perfect pureblood lady. '

'Thank you,' she sighed, wishing she wasn't so nervous and prone to over-reaction, 'and I know,
sorry, I feel bad, when they find out this is all a lie –'

'They won't.' Sirius interrupted.

'No, I mean when I leave,' Hermione insisted, 'You'll be disowned again, you shouldn't be wasting
your money on this sort of stuff.'

He flipped his hand at her, 'Honestly Hermione, it's pocket change. Don't worry about it.' He
looked at his watch. 'Come on – get that offensive jewellery on and let's go.'

She smiled in defeat and flicked her wand at the necklace, intending for it to fasten itself around
her neck, but it didn't move. She was puzzled.

'Muggleborns,' said Sirius shaking his head. 'You can't use magic on goblin wrought silver.'

'Oh, right,' she said sheepishly.

'Here,' he picked up the necklace and moved behind her, 'get your hair,' he instructed.

She lifted her heavy locks, 'How'd you make it all smooth?' Sirius asked, 'It looks great, but it's
very different from the usual ...Er ...'

'Bush?' Hermione suggested as he fastened the clasp.

Sirius laughed, 'I didn't say it, although,' he said, as he picked up the ring box, still laughing, 'if the
shoe fits.'

'Oh, be quiet.' She snapped, but she was unable to keep the little smile that threatened hidden. She
snatched the box from him and flipped it open. The ring looked like it had been woven, it was very
wide, taking up the whole gap on her middle finger between hand and her first knuckle. Narrow
strips of silver over-lapped each other in a crisscrossing pattern and in the centre was an embossed
circular crest 'Wahrheit und Ehre'

'Come on Little Lady Fehr, we mustn't keep Her Royal Nastiness waiting.' Sirius said, grabbing her
hand and leading her out the door to the balcony. She snagged her purse from the table as they
passed. Once they were outside she locked the doors, and Sirius turned on the spot pulling her with
him.
 Independence Day

4th July

Hermione had to suppress a shudder as Sirius knocked on the door of Number Twelve; she was
surprised that she could see it. The Fidelius charm was a strange thing she thought. Obviously if
you'd been a secret keeper you could see it no matter when you were.

As the locks began to click Sirius grasped her hand it made her feel slightly stronger. That was
until he leaned down and whispered in her ear, 'Now Miss Granger, try not to fall in love with me.'

'Honestly,' she whispered back, 'You love yourself so much there's no room for anyone else.'

He laughed quietly – she could almost hear him smirking.

The door creaked on its hinges and Kreachers croaking voice said, 'Welcome to the Ancient and
Most Noble house of Black, Lady Fehr.'

'Thank you.' said Hermione as she crossed the threshold.

'Hello Kreacher,' said Sirius.

'Good evening Master Sirius.' said the elf, he sounded resentful at being forced to speak to Sirius.
'Mistress is waiting for you in the drawing room, if you would follow me.'

Sirius was clutching on to Hermione's hand so tightly she was losing feeling in her fingers as they
climbed the staircase, she could feel his palm sweating in her grip. She suddenly realised that he
wasn't just nervous about this meeting. He was as afraid as she was.

She pressed her arm to his and looked up at him, 'It will be okay,' she said, trying to sound
reassuring, then in a whisper she added, 'And if it's not, stun her and we'll run like hell.'

He met her eyes, a crooked smile on his lips, and breathed back, 'I'd rather kick her, then the run
like hell bit.'

She smiled, 'Well it's your mother ... so your call.'

When they reached the door to the drawing room she heard Sirius take a deep breath, Kreacher
pushed the door open and said, 'Mistress, Lady Fehr and Master Sirius have arrived.'

A refined voice issued from within the room. 'Very well, see them in.'

'Yes Mistress.' the elf turned and addressed Hermione, 'Mistress Black would be honoured to meet
you Lady Fehr you may go in.'

As Hermione moved into the long room, Sirius a step behind her, she felt his grip on her hand
tighten once more before he released it.

Taking a step forward he addressed the woman sitting in a large arm chair. She held herself very
upright. The high collared, dark green robes she wore were very formal, a ring very similar to the
one on Sirius's middle finger glinted on her hand, and there was an ornate sliver brooch pinned to
the left of the row of tiny, individually covered buttons that fastened her robes from chin to
breastbone.
She bore a strong resemblance to the portrait that would adorn the hall in twenty years' time, but
without the spit flying from her mouth and the lack of echoing screeched insults she looked a lot
more human. Her face was held in a strained expression as she looked at Sirius – pale lips pursed,
the grey eyes and finely arched eyebrows her son had inherited slightly narrowed. It was obvious
she was trying to appear polite in front of a wealthy foreigner, while intimidating her shameful heir
at the same time. Quite the challenge.

'Mother,' Sirius said bowing his head slightly, 'May I present Hermione, daughter of Lady
Frederica Fehr and Hector Dagworth-Granger.'

'You may.' said Walburga Black.

'Hermione, I would like you to meet my mother. Walburga Black, daughter of Pollux Black and
Irma Crabbe, widow of Orion Black. My Father.

Hermione stepped forward, 'It is an honour to meet you Mrs Black, my mother has always spoken
highly of your noble family.'

'Miss Fehr,' said Walburga. Her mask of indifference softening now that she was no longer looking
at her son. 'The honour is mine. Please take a seat, I have heard many wonderful things about you,
a true lady as I understand it.'

'I have been raised to understand the importance of my place in world Mrs Black, if we forget that
we are nothing. Wouldn't you agree?' she smiled as she perched on the couch opposite Walburga,
smoothing her skirt and folding her hands in her lap.

'Indeed. Would you like some tea while we wait for dinner Miss Fehr?'

'Thank you, that would be lovely.' Hermione said, trying to keep her polite smile in place as
Kreacher hurried forward with a laden tea tray.

'How do you take your tea Miss?' Kreacher asked.

'Black,' Hermione struggled not to thank the elf, but she knew she shouldn't if she was going to pull
this deception off.

'Sugar Miss?'

'One.' she addressed Walburga, 'May I say that is a beautiful brooch Mrs Black,' it was an honest
complement, the interlacing of the filigree silver caught the light in an almost entrancing way as
Walburga reached for her own tea cup. It stood out starkly against the dark background of her
robes.

'Thank you Miss Fehr,' she said, looking down at her chest, brushing her fingers delicately across
the metal 'it has been in the family four generations, it was a wedding gift to my great great
grandmother from her new husbands family, it was said to be many centuries old even then.'

'It is certainly a fine piece.' Hermione said appreciatively, she really couldn't imagine what it
would be like to wear something that was old enough to be on display in a museum.

'You are no stranger to historical jewellery,' Walburga said, with a courteous nod in appreciation
for the complement, 'your necklace is obviously one of the Ausgleich Collection, half a millennia
old if I'm not mistaken.'

Oh god, was it? What on earth was that … Ausgleich … Hermione had never heard of such a
thing, she decided to hedge her bets. 'My mother gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday.' she
said touching the diamonds at her throat, 'It is so beautiful.' she smiled and stirred her tea precisely,
as not to clink the spoon on the side of the delicate cup. She hoped that would be enough
information to satisfy Walburga.

Apparently it was because she nodded, and after replacing her cup on its saucer she said, 'I was
surprised to hear of your relationship with my son. Surprised but pleased, you must have many
suitors when you hold such standing.' Walburga fixed Sirius with a glare.

He was still standing at the end of the couch Hermione was sitting on, his face pale staring at the
tapestry that hung on the wall at the end of the room.

Hermione made a small coquettish noise, 'I have lead a sheltered life,' she carefully placed the
spoon on the saucer as she spoke, 'I attended an all girls' school and my mother has impressed upon
me the importance of reputation.' She smiled again, as she pick up her cup, 'I find your son to be
charming and intelligent,and he comes from an excellent family,' Hermione bowed her head
slightly. 'He may have deviated from the line, but once we began speaking I could see that he
regrets it greatly.'

Walburga's eyes flicked toward Sirius. He had finally stopped his blank staring and was watching
Hermione in amazement.

'I am glad that you can see that in him, I have failed for many years.' Walburga said bitterly.

'If you'll forgive me Mrs Black, one cannot see what one is not shown. Perhaps Sirius is a little
proud, something he has inherited, we can all be fools when pride is at stake.'

'That is a valid point.' Walburga permitted, almost grudgingly. 'It appears you know my son quite
well. What does your mother think of his courting you?'

'He has not had the honour of meeting her yet. But she trusts in my judgement to choose the right
wizard.' Hermione said, sending a small grin at him, he didn't seem to be able to return it. 'She is
currently making arrangements for us to visit her in Zurich.'

'Does she know of his indiscretions?' Walburga asked, concern breaking through her calm exterior.

'Yes Madam, my mother and I are very close, she understands that your son has had a rather ...
exciting youth, but at twenty-one he has found he way back to the true line of his family. She
believes young men need time to live, before the duties of provider are forced upon them.'

'How generous of her.' Walburga looked at Sirius who was still standing, and looking very
uncomfortable at being discussed like he wasn't there. 'Sirius,' she said, 'Your grandfather is in the
library, fetch him. I'm sure he would like to meet Miss Fehr.'

'Yes Mother.' said Sirius, leaving the room as quickly as he could, closing the door behind him.

'Miss Fehr, as pleased as I am that someone of your upbringing would consider my son, I must
admit to you some concerns I have. Sirius – as you say – can be charming, and he is most certainly
intelligent, although he seems to hide it very well, and, I am sure, he has treated you with respect or
you would not be here this evening.' Hermione nodded. 'But I must warn you, the way he has
behaved in the past speaks of his character. He was the heir and he turned his back on it. What if
he does the same to you?'

'Mrs Black, we are only courting,' Hermione replied aloofly, 'we have written to each other over the
last six months but we have only been on a few outings. I accepted your thoughtful invitation this
evening because I believe he has potential. So if he – as you put it – turns his back on me, well, I
shall find someone more suitable.'

'Are you not afraid of the shame it will bring your mother?'

'Madam, my family's standing could not be affected by such a thing.' she replied in what she
thought was a rather spectacular impression of Walburga's derisive tone. 'Things are different in
Europe, my parents were never married, but my mother was never shunned or shamed for my birth.
It was only celebrated that the family was growing.'

'Then why is it we have not heard of you until Mr Dagworth-Grangers death?' Walburga said
haughtily.

'We are a private family madam.' Hermione let a touch of impatience enter her voice, 'Do you
know of all my cousins?'

'No I –'

'Also,' Hermione interrupted, 'We understand how you Britons see such things, a child born out of
wedlock would have been a mark on my father's name. Should not all pureblood children be a
reason to rejoice?'

'Of course, but –'

'Mrs Black,' Hermione said firmly, 'I was kind enough to accept your invitation this evening. I have
not come here to be insulted.'

Walburga's face paled, Hermione couldn't tell if it was anger or panic causing such a reaction.
Hermione drew a breath and continued.

'You have not offered me condolences on my father's passing, or let your son apologise. I have
never seen a man as distraught as he, when he learnt of his brothers' death. He may have made
some poor choices as a child but he wishes to repent, to make up for the damage he has caused to
your family.' Hermione's heart was pounding after this little outburst, she could see in her mind's
eye Walburga pointing her wand at her and cursing her for such rudeness. She resisted the urge to
reach for her own wand. But she needn't have worried.

'Lady Fehr,' Walburga said, a bitter twist to her mouth, 'I am sorry. I forgot myself. You must be
very upset at the loss of your Father. He was a respectable wizard. Very talented as I understand it.
Please accept my sympathy.'

'Thank you Madam.' Hermione said graciously. Breathing a large internal sigh of relief. 'I am
proud to be his daughter.'

'As to my son, you must understand, the pain of being betrayed by your own blood is hard to bear,
and I am torn. This war has caused me to reconsider many of my ideals. The possibility of Sirius
wishing to return, to take his place, is something I have desired, and with a lady such as yourself at
his side. Well, it seems too good to be true.'

Hermione smiled at the compliment. She was taken aback to hear this woman, who by all accounts
was an ice cold she-devil, say such things. 'Mrs Black, I will at admit the first time I met him I was
not that impressed. He was handsome of course, but he lacked purpose – and the proper pride that I
require in a wizard.'

Walburga nodded in agreement. 'That sounds accurate.'

'Yes. However he wrote to me this winter, quite often. It was platonic – at first we exchanged
opinions and our ideas on this world. But he soon began to confide in me his struggles with the war
and losing his comrades. He said that having someone to talk with who was unattached to the
situation helped him focus. I could see he was troubled by the distance from his family. I urged
him to make amends but he thought he would not be accepted.'

Walburga looked almost abashed; Hermione couldn't believe this drivel was really working.

'When my father fell ill I came to England to see him before the end. It was very difficult for me
and Sirius was so kind and understanding, we were still only writing to one another until the night
he was told of death of young Regulus. He came to my apartment, and as I said I had never seen
such a broken man. It was that evening he decided to contact you. He realised not only that he had
lost his brother but that the Black family had no heir. He was ashamed of what he had done.'

'Miss Fehr –'

'Please Mrs Black, call me Hermione.'

'Hermione, I believe I owe you greatly for this change you have bought about in my son. I had no
idea that you had played such a role in his new found sense of duty. I must admit it bodes well for
his feelings toward you. He has never been one to take advice from anyone.'

Hermione gave a small chuckle, 'Yes Mrs Black. He told me that himself. I believe his words were
'You know I'm doing this because I want to, not because you suggested it.'

'Is it not our job as women to convince men they are making their own choices, while it is we
plotting the course?' Walburga said, with a glint in her eye that was reminiscent of her son.

Hermione laughed. 'Yes Mrs Black. I agree completely.' She was surprised that she really did
agree. Never did she think that she and this woman would find common ground. Small though it
was.

Walburga's upper lip twitched as though she was about to smile before a frown creased her
forehead again.

'Have you met any of his friends?' she asked.

'I have,' Hermione said preparing herself, 'Some of them may not be to my taste, I met James Potter
and his wife and son last week. He seems to be strong wizard and a loyal friend to Sirius, and he
comes from a good family.

Walburga's lip curled slightly, but Hermione continued, 'His wife, while not as desirable, is a
powerful and intelligent woman. And their son is lovely. A truly sweet baby. I do love babies.' She
finished, smiling sweetly at Walburga. 'I hope to have some of my own one day.'

Walburga harsh expression softened considerably. Hermione knew she was close to winning her
over. Dumbledore was right, her wish for an heir outweighed everything else.

'Sirius has told me of another couple,' Hermione went on. 'Frank and Alice Longbottom, they
sound very promising. They also have a small son as I understand it.'

'Oh yes,' said Walburga, 'I am acquainted with Frank's mother, Augusta, she is a proud woman. I
meet with her and some other respected ladies for tea quite regularly. You must join us next time.
My niece Narcissa also has a son the same age as Frank's.'
'That is very kind of you Mrs Black. I would love to meet some suitable women my own age.'
Hermione said, especially ones that are holding a certain diary she thought shrewdly.

'You speak of children, but I would have assumed you are planning for a career first.' Walburga
said.

'I have been weighing my prospects, I may go into the Swiss Ministry, my uncle has offered me a
position in the Minister's outer office. Once I have found a husband, children will take prescience
of course, but I will not be away from work for long, with elves and a governess, one can do both.'

'I am surprised you put emphasis on having a husband, with your mother as an example I would
have thought you would be happy to make your own way in this world.' Her tone was not insulting,
merely curious.

'That is true, but I think that sons, which are what I desire, need a strong role model, and while my
uncles could provide that a father is a much better option. They would learn the correct treatment
of women that way.'

Then Walburga actually smiled as she said, 'Boys can be trouble if my two are anything to go by. I
always thought a father was necessary because a mother's voice is never loud enough to get into
their mischief-making heads.'

Hermione laughed. 'An added bonus,' she said, and Walburga chucked quietly.

A knock at the door interrupted them,

'Walburga?' A deep resonant voice called, 'How are you two ladies doing? May we be granted
entry? We wish to share in the joke.'

'Enter,' said Walburga, shaking her head slightly, 'I'm very sorry Hermione, I'm afraid Sirius gets
his incorrigible nature from his grandfather.'

Hermione giggled again. 'Oh dear, I was hoping he would grow out of that.'

Walburga let out another little laugh.

When Pollux Black entered the drawing room Hermione was shocked at how young he looked, he
could have been his daughters' brother. Tall and broad, slightly greying dark hair pulled back into a
tidy club. Walburga and her son must have inherited their slate grey eyes from her mother, or
perhaps they just skipped Pollux, because his were a hazely-brown, however the eyebrows, the
straight nose, and the set of his mouth were all very obviously present in his grandson.

Sirius followed close behind him, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of his mother and
Hermione smiling at each other.

'Father,' said Walburga, 'This is Miss Hermione Fehr,'

Pollux was much warmer on first impressions than his daughter had been; he bent to kiss
Hermione's hand and said, 'You are as lovely as the whispers suggested young lady.' Hermione
blushed. 'So what's the joke? I must know what has made my daughter laugh.'

Hermione glanced at Sirius still standing quite stiff at the end of the couch, he was still very pale, a
look of stunned disbelief on his face. As Pollux took the arm chair next to Walburga Sirius opened
his mouth, and then closed it again.
'Mother,' he said finally, his voice was steady but quieter than usual, Hermione guessed it was
nerves. 'I wish to speak to you.'

'Very well. Speak,' Walburga said stiffly.

Hermione was surprised at the coldness in her voice, completely different from only moments
before.

'In private Mother.' Hermione couldn't pull her eyes away from him. He looked so frightened, and a
little sick. She stood up and moved beside him. Taking his fist from where it was clenched tightly
at his side and holding between her hands.

'Mr Black,' she said to Pollux, 'I'm an avid reader, Sirius has told me you have an impressive
library. I would love to see it.'

Pollux rose from his chair immediately 'And I would be honoured to show you Miss Fehr.'

Hermione turned back to Sirius, still frozen at her side. She squeezed his hand and reached up to
peck him on the cheek, using it as an excuse to whisper in his ear. 'She wants to forgive you,' He
raised his free hand to touch his cheek where Hermione had kissed him, 'remember the plan,' she
breathed, smiling, her back to Walburga. His lips curved up slightly at the corners as he met her
eyes. Her grin widened, 'but, no kicking.'

A tiny singular laugh escaped his lips. 'Ha, got it' He said.

'Well, Miss Fehr, shall we depart? The library is expansive and dinner is not far away.' Pollux
offered her his arm.

'Thank you Mr Black,' she said taking it.

As Pollux closed the door behind them, he looked down at Hermione. 'Never fear young lady, he
is strong.'

'I know,' said Hermione. 'He is so afraid of getting this wrong, It's very important to him.'

Pollux just nodded as they climbed the stairs.

When they reached the library he said, 'Would you care for a drink Miss Fehr?' he indicated a
crystal decanter half full of amber liquid that was arranged with glasses on a silver tray at one end
of a large desk.

'A small one,' said Hermione, 'and please Mr Black, call me Hermione.'

He poured her a shallow measure, and handed her the glass.

Taking a sip she realised it was not Firewhiskey as she had expected but something else, the heat it
caused in her throat was stronger – but the flavour was mellower, smoother.

'Mmm,' she said appreciatively, taking another sip.

'Ah, I see why Sirius is so taken with you,' said Pollux, 'A lady that enjoys real whiskey. A rare
find indeed.'

More like a lady that understands how to get Black family men onside, Hermione thought, a little
cynically, 'It is very nice Mr Black, what's the difference?' she asked, 'You said real whiskey?'
'I make it myself.' he said proudly.

'Really?' Hermione said, quite surprised, and a little impressed, 'It's delicious – I think you may
have missed your calling in life.'

Pollux chucked, 'Yes many have said that ... though, none as lovely as you.' He added with a wink.

Hermione smiled sweetly again, Walburga had been right, Sirius and his grandfather were too alike
for their own good.

As she ran her finger along the spines of the books at her eye-level, looking for something of
interest, she thought how strange purebloods were. If this man knew of her true parentage he would
throw her out into the street, or worse. But with the wonderfully generous Frederica Fehr on her
side, suddenly, he was a kind man. She knew he was not as evil as Walburga – but even she had not
seemed so bad. Bigoted and obsessed perhaps, but not evil.

Hermione had expected to feel unwelcome or at least like they were putting on an act, a show to
prove their status to her. But it wasn't like that at all. She didn't think she'd ever understand how
their minds worked.

Suddenly the title of a book jumped out at her, pulling her from her musings. Potentissimum
Maledictiones it was a book she had been looking for the last three years. It was illegal, and
therefore out of print. It contained express information on several dark curses. One being
Fiendfyre. She pulled it down and flipped through the pages.

'Now Hermione, I would hope a sweet young lady such as yourself would have no need for the
type of spells you will find in there.' Pollux said coming to stand beside her.

'Not really, Mr Black,' she said smiling at him. 'I just love theory. I'm very interested in the
containment of Fiendfyre at the moment, and one must know the enemy if one is going to destroy
it.'

'That is very true. I did research on Fiendfyre myself in my youth. Unfortunately,' he chuckled, 'I
burnt down a small forest on the family estate in Wales before my father managed to stop it.'

'Oh dear,' said Hermione, 'Did you learn how to control it after that? I'd love some pointers one
day.'

'I'm sure we could organise that. I have to admit I'm surprised that you would be interested in dark
magic, coming from a family like yours.'

Hermione smiled, 'Mother says light and dark magic is all perception, she prefers to view it as
useful magic or evil magic. There are few spells she considers evil, she blames the castor rather
than the spell itself.'

'She sounds like a very intriguing woman, she is unattached?'

'Mr Black, Please!' said Hermione. 'That's my mother!' But she was smiling. 'Imagine how Sirius
would feel if we suddenly siblings ... or would I be his aunt?'

Pollux laughed again. 'Point taken Miss Fehr.'

CRACK

'Excuse me Master,' croaked Kreacher, 'Dinner is ready to be served.'

CRACK

'Good,' said Pollux, 'I'm starving. My lady?' he said holding out his arm to her once again, 'May I
escort you to dinner?'

'Thank you,' said Hermione, taking his arm.

They stopped outside the drawing room and Pollux poked his head in, 'Walburga? Sirius? Dinner is
ready.'

When Sirius and his mother exited the room Hermione was pleased to see Sirius's colour had
returned. He looked much more relaxed. He smiled at her and then said, 'Grandfather, I will escort
Hermione from here.' He took her other arm and they stepped back so Walburga and Pollux could
pass and lead the way to the dining room.

Sirius was taking the stairs very slowly under the pretext of pointing out the members of the
portraits that lined the walls. Hermione was quite sure he was making up the names on the spot as
she didn't believe anyone would actually call their child Magna Nasus, but then, this was the
family that Phineas Nigellus belonged to so she wasn't sure.

As soon as his mother and grandfather had disappeared into the dining room Sirius pulled
Hermione into a hug, releasing her he said, 'I did it!' his voice was low but she could hear the
happiness in it.

This was the first hurdle. The locket was here, now Sirius could look for it and it wouldn't be
suspicious and hopefully the door would now be open to the Malfoy's. Hermione would talk to
Narcissa at tea, Sirius would soon have access to the family vault at Gringotts, only two vaults
down was the Lestrange's'. The plan was working.

'Well done,' she murmured back. 'Did you have to kick her?'

'Ha ha, no, you were right, she wanted to believe me. How did you make her laugh by the way? I
never would have believed it.'

'I made a joke about you.' Hermione said with a smirk.

'Come on you two,' called Pollux re-emerging from the dining room.

Sirius looked at his grandfather and then quickly pecked Hermione on the cheek, and said, 'We're
coming Grandfather, sorry.'

Hermione blushed, 'Sirius! What will your mother think of me?'

Pollux was chuckling as they passed him in the doorway of the large dining room.

'What?' Sirius asked quietly as he pulled out her chair, not completely disguising his grin. 'So you're
allowed to kiss me but I'm not allowed to kiss you?'

'I was giving you courage.' she said with dignity taking her seat. 'I knew you were worried your
mother would not accept you.'

'You are quite right dear,' said Walburga kindly to Hermione. 'Sirius do not over step the mark with
this young lady. You are lucky she gives you the time of day.'

Hermione had to cough politely into her napkin to hide her amusement. Sirius didn't respond as he
took the chair next to Hermione.

When Hermione and Sirius appeared with a pop on her balcony Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
They had done it. Made it. The ties were re-established – her idea was working! They were going
to rid the world of Riddle!

'Thank God that's over,' Hermione said as Sirius dropped her hand. 'Well done, we're one step
closer!'

Then, with a huge pumpkin grin spreading over his face, Sirius picked her up and spun around,
'Death to Voldemort!' He said loudly.

'Sirius, put me down.' she said sternly, 'You'll drop me over the edge, and then where would you
be?'

He was laughing as he lowered her to her feet. 'You're right, Can I just say though, holy shit! What
came over you? My mother fucking loves you. That is mental. She doesn't even like her family but
she wouldn't shut up about how bloody lucky I was that you were ... er ... what was it? Oh yeah,
considering me.'

Hermione smiled. 'You must have been pretty convincing too.'

'It wasn't that bad,' He said, 'It was kind of weird, as soon as I said I was sorry about Reg
everything was easier, didn't even have to keep reminding myself why I was telling her I wanted to
be the heir again.'

'Well good, now I'll just have to make sure you don't turn into an evil git. Although, your
grandfather is nice. He's like you – but old.'

'Yeah he's pretty decent chap. I was his favourite, so now he's got what he wanted.' He grinned, 'So
how did you get Mother to like you? I still can't believe it.'

'Er ... I um, told her off for insulting me, then I sprouted some rubbish about how you and I fell in
love and told her I want to have lots of pureblood sons.' Hermione opened the door and went to the
kitchen to put the kettle on.

'What? You told her off? Merlin, Hermione she could have killed you!' Sirius exclaimed, following
her.

'No she couldn't. My mother knew I was there. Do you really think she would start a feud with the
most powerful family in Western Europe?' she asked, taking the tea tray from the draining board.

'I wouldn't put it passed her,' he said mutinously.

'Well anyway,' she said, as she put the teapot and sugar bowl on the tray. 'I told her I'd been urging
you back to the family for months and Reg's death put you over the edge and you knew you had to
return.'

'You do realise where this is going, don't you?' asked Sirius.

'Where what is going? The destruction of Riddle? Yes ... that was the point of tonight.'

'No – you telling my mother we're in love and you want children ... she'll be insisting I ask you to
marry me by the end of the month.'
'She can insist all she likes, but in four months I'll just be the Swiss Miss that strung you along and
broke your heart.' she said, as she popped the lid on the tea tin and began searching for a spoon.

'Oh how will I cope?' Sirius said in a mock wounded voice, hand on his heart.

'And anyway, I didn't tell her we were in love,' she said, nudging him out of the way so she could
get to the cutlery draw, 'I just said we were dating and if you turned out to be an idiot I would find
someone better.' The kettle whistled and she poured the boiling water into the teapot before adding
the leaves. 'I think she was glad that I wasn't a simpering fool. Although I may have laid the baby
bit on thick, but Dumbledore told me too. That's what got her in the end.'

Sirius looked slightly uncomfortable. 'Women are insane.' he muttered, squatting down and
looking reaching into the little bar fridge for milk, and pinching a few grapes from the bunch on
the top shelf before he stood up again.

'Poor Sirius, don't you want to be a daddy?' Hermione joked.

'Good Merlin no!' he said through his mouthful, swallowing he added, 'And don't tease, I'm gonna
get enough of that when you go.'

'Do you want to know something ironic?' she asked as she took the tea cups from the cupboard.

'What?' he asked, still slightly grumpy.

'It's Independence Day in America today.'

'Brilliant,' said Sirius, 'On the day I lose mine.'

Hermione giggled, 'As I said, ironic – I'm going to stay up and watch the fireworks on telly. The
hotel has satellite so I should be able to see some from New York in a couple of hours.'

'Okay, I didn't understand half of that.' Sirius said, looking confused as she carried the tea tray to
the table in the sitting room.

'They do huge fireworks displays on the river, and show them on television.' she elaborated, 'The
hotel has some American news channels so I'll be able to watch them.'

'Cool, I'm in the mood for stuff blowing up. I can imagine each one to have my mother's face, Can I
stay and watch too?'

'Er ... sure, I didn't really think it would be your thing – but if you want, it'll be fun.' Hermione said.

'Brilliant.' He smiled, 'But I'm going to go home and change, I might look amazing – but these
robes a bloody uncomfortable.'

'You are a wise man.' she agreed 'I'm longing for my pyjamas and slippers.'

'Okay, I'll be back in a bit,' Sirius said.

As she kicked off her lovely, but painful shoes, he opened the French doors and she called, 'Bring
back wine ... and chocolate.'

He laughed. 'As you wish, Lady Fehr.'

 Minions and Macaroons

11th July

'Padfoot?' Remus called, knocking on the heavy door of his friends flat.

'That you Moony?' Sirius's voice called back.

'Yes.' Remus answered, Stupid question, he thought. Honestly, if he was a Death Eater of course he
would say yes.

Sirius's flat was in a muggle owned building above a row of shops in central London. There were
highly trendy muggles everywhere you looked, predominantly young, with multi-coloured hair and
clashing clothes, Remus had to admit, there was something about the place, as intimidating as the
residents may seem. The atmosphere was very pleasant. He was sure he could wear his robes in the
middle of the day in this part of London and only get a strange look or two because they weren't
ripped, studded or safety pinned enough. He didn't however.

Remus always tried to stay inconspicuous, he was so cautious, the Death Eaters were getting so
strong, he knew it wouldn't be long before they got their hands on the files at the Ministry. And
then they would come calling. The Educated Werewolf. They would want him to temper
Greyback's pack. He just knew that's what was coming, he was protected as he could be at home,
but he always felt a nervousness that people were trying to trick him, to lure him in. To force him to
live with the other beasts like himself, the ones he had done everything to separate himself from.

But it was not all doom and gloom, it was hard to be too maudlin when you had insane friends -
like Sirius Black. As if to prove this point, the proof of identity question his friend's voice asked
him was the most ridiculous Remus had heard so far.

'How many times did Prongs ask Lily out before she said yes?' Sirius asked, snapping Remus out of
his internal consternation.

'What, ever?' he said incredulously, 'Padfoot, ask a question a reasonable person can answer. I
doubt even Prongs knows the exact number.'

'He does actually.' Sirius said, 'Now I'm beginning to wonder if you're a Death Eater in disguise,
the real Moony could figure it out.' There was a funny lit to his voice, Remus thought, amusement?
What else.

'Merlin Padfoot, do you want to go or not?'

'Not with an imposter.' Sirius replied cheekily.

'For goodness sake,' Remus sighed in exasperation, he knew there was no point arguing with his
stubborn friend, it would take longer than if he just tried to figure out the answer.

'Okay,' he began, mulling it over, 'So, maybe once or twice a month in fourth year … say twenty
times. Plus once a week in fifth so … um, god, forty? Then in sixth year, that was when he really
put his mind to it … maybe every second day?'

Remus was counting on his fingers now, 'What's that … like a hundred and twenty times? Not
including holidays. Merlin he was mental.' Remus muttered to himself, 'So a hundred and twenty
plus forty, a hundred and sixty … how many did I say for fourth year again?'
Suddenly he heard the barking laughter of his idiotic friend. 'You're such a berk Padfoot! – Oh,
hold on … I know – twenty … So let's say, a hundred and ninety just to be safe, cause I know of at
least twice he asked her in third year.'

'Not bad Moony.' came Sirius's sniggering voice. 'It's a hundred and ninety eight. Prongs was
actually disappointed that she didn't say yes on the two hundredth attempt, he thought it would be
more poetic. What a tosser.'

'Just like someone else I know.' Remus muttered. 'How many times have I wondered why I'm
friends with you?' Remus asked him.

'Too easy, Moony! Never!' The door opened.

Remus shook his head at the child trapped in a man's body before him. 'That is incorrect.' he said
sternly, 'But unfortunately, even I don't know the correct answer. You see, I can't remember every
conversation we've ever had. For I think it every time.'

Sirius adopted a hurt expression. 'You know you don't mean that.'

Remus gave him a patronising smile, 'No, that was an exaggeration, it's probably only every second
conversation.'

'Brilliant,' Sirius laughed, 'only half the time then.'

'Hurry up you dafty, I told Wormtail we'd be there by three.'

Remus turned and led the way back down the short corridor of the building, and down the narrow
staircase. When Sirius caught up with him he seemed to have lost his cheerful mood. 'So how's the
infiltration of the family going?'

'Pretty good,' Sirius said, his hands deep in his pockets as they strode quickly along the footpath
towards the alley Sirius's used for apparition. "We had dinner last weekend, Hag-face accepted my
apology. Actually I wanted to say, let's not mention that to Pettigrew, or anything about Hermione.
You know what he's like. Won't be able to keep the story straight if anyone asks.'

Remus considered this, 'That's true … maybe you should tell him the lie, then if he gets asked
about it he'll say what you want people to think. Much safer for him.'

Sirius looked a bit surprised. 'Good idea Moony.'

They apparated to the Pettigrew residence, a quaint farmhouse in North Kesteven. The white-
washed walls and tiled roof were the picture of an English countryside home. There was a small
amount of unfenced land around the property and no neighbours in sight. Remus and Sirius's
sudden appearance was witnessed only by an extremely put-upon looking goat who was tied to
stake and munching on the grass at his feet, and several jumpy chickens that squawked, and
retreated around the side of the house in terror.

As Remus raised his fist to knock on the door, he looked at Sirius. 'Are you asking or am I?'

But Sirius's face was flushed, he looked like he was sweating slightly, his hand hidden was inside
his jacket, Remus thought it was clutching his wand, 'Sirius, what's wrong? Is there –'

'I'm fine Moony, no problems.' He said, an unsettling grin on his face. His eyes were burning
brightly, Remus had no idea what was happening to his friend, he wasn't himself, terror gripped
him, as a horrible realisation hit. He hadn't asked Sirius a real question, was this really his friend?
Anyone could have played along … Polyjuice wasn't that hard to come by….

He slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing reassuringly around his own wand.
'Padfoot? I never asked you a real question.' he said, trying to sound casual,

Sirius looked at him, confused, 'Yes, you said how many times –'

'What does the Shrieking Shack have to do with our time at school?' Remus shot at him harshly,
drawing his wand.

'Moony … what?' Sirius took a step back. Remus noticed he didn't release his grip on his wand.

'Answer it,' Remus snarled at him.

'Um …' Sirius was stuttering, his eyes flashing, 'you see … you're a … um … Your very violent
rabbit lived there … so we would go and visit him once a month … You kept him secret from us til
second year, then Prongs and I figured out your furry little problem. We love animals too you know
– I like dogs. James, he's more of a herbivore kinda guy.'

Remus let out a shaky breath and lowered his wand, 'Okay, sorry Sirius, but you're being bloody
weird today,'

'I'm not the only one.' Sirius snapped back. 'You're so paranoid Moony.'

'Rather be paranoid than dead.' Remus said with grim smile, and threw his arm around his friend's
shoulders, 'Sorry Padfoot,' he squeezed him roughly.

Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. 'Very true, Mr Moony. Very true. Now, what are we asking
Pettigrew?' he asked, as Remus released him.

'I've got one.' Remus said, as he finally knocked on the door.

'Who is it?' called a woman's voice.

'It's Remus and Sirius, Mrs Pettigrew, its Peter in?'

'Yes, just a minute.'

After five minutes of waiting they heard their friend, 'Who is it?' Peter asked.

'It's Moony and Padfoot, Wormy.' Remus replied.

'Oh hi, are you ready for your question?'

'You're just meant to say it Pete,' Remus said patiently, 'You don't want to give them a chance to
trick you.'

'Sorry, okay … what year were we in at school when I beat you, Moony, at chess?'

Sirius snorted, 'That's got to be a trick question Wormtail.'

'No,' Remus laughed a little, 'It was in sixth year Pete. You had been in detention with James, Filch
had caught you two sneaking back from Hogsmeade, and Padfoot and I were waiting up for you to
get back, we'd er … drunk most of the Firewhiskey you'd gone to Hogsmeade for in the first place
– Padfoot said we were destroying evidence, but we all know he's a closet lush – And so, when
you returned, and challenged me to a game – well, I was not on top form.'

'Shame on you Moony.' Sirius said.

'That's right.' Peter said, sounding proud.

'Wormtail, what did you and I do the first night back after Christmas in fifth year, because we were
mad at Prongs and Padfoot for getting us all into trouble on the first day back?' Remus asked.

Peter giggled, Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus, 'I'm jealous Moony,' he said, 'you two keeping
secret hijinks all to yourselves for so long.'

Remus just laughed.

'You taught me,' said Peter still giggling, 'how to do that charm – the one that makes material feel
wet even though it looks dry, and then we did it to their sheets!' The door opened, and Peter was
laughing happily.

'Good to see you Wormy,' Remus said clapping him on the shoulder as he passed into the house.

'How you doing Pettigrew?' Sirius asked, punching Peter solidly in the arm.

'Ow!' Peter yelped, stumbling at the impact, 'Padfoot, what was that for?'

'Oh sorry, don't know my own strength,' Sirius said, not sounding any kind of sorry Remus was
familiar with.

Remus shook his head. He would never grow up. 'How's your mum Pete?' He asked, as they took
seats in the sitting room. 'She seems a bit better.'

'Yes,' said Peter, he looked worried. Remus couldn't blame him. Peter had been looking after his
mother for the last six months, he was so consumed by it they hardly ever saw him anymore. 'Yes,
she's having a good day today. What have you guys been up to?'

'Not much, just files for me at the moment, did you hear about the Bones boys? Got them out safe
and sound. Good eh?'

'Yeah that was pretty cool. You were there weren't you Padfoot?' Peter looked toward Sirius.

'What?' Sirius's eyes were sharp as he glanced back.

'Edgar's boys,' Remus said. 'You helped rescue them.'

'Oh yeah, I did. It's a shame we didn't all make it out alive, Voldemort's followers are such
disgusting arseholes.' he said vehemently, still looking at Peter.

'I'll say,' Remus agreed. 'Bloody foul gits, the lot of them.'

'Yes.' said Peter in a small voice, 'They're so evil.'

Poor Pete, Remus thought. He'd always been easily frightened, normally he would suck it up – As
long as James or Sirius or Remus stood beside him. He just needed encouragement, then his
Gryffindor nature would show through. He knew the war was unsettling his small friend, they
couldn't be there to protect them all the time. Remus just hoped they could all make it through.
They'd been lucky so far.
'So Pads has got himself a new lady friend.' Remus said trying to lighten the mood. He was a bit
disturbed by the look on Peter's face, he was so jumpy. The poor sod. And Sirius was glaring at
him still. Why couldn't he understand that not everyone was as reckless with their own safety as he
was?

'Really?' asked Peter. 'Good for you Padfoot,' he smiled at his friend. 'For more than just the one
night then?'

Remus burst out laughing, glad that Peter was on his side when it came to Sirius and his lack of
morals, 'Good one Wormy,' he said. 'that was the same question I asked.'

Sirius crossed his arms and sighed, he even looked mildly guilty, 'Yes, very funny, I'm a whore, I
know.'

'Doesn't she mind?' Peter asked, growing bolder at the reaction 'I would have thought most girls
wouldn't like that very much.' He snickered as Remus laughter grew louder.

'We've come to an understanding.' Sirius said. His hard expression lifting a little.

'So who is it? Do we know her?' Peter asked.

Sirius smiled slightly, 'She's the daughter of Lady Fehr, her name is Hermione.'

Peter's eyes almost popped out of his head, 'Fehr? Like the ones on the continent?'

'Exactly like.' Sirius said with a smirk.

'Wow Padfoot … that's amazing … they're so powerful,' Peter was awed. Remus could sort of
understand. Peter did have a fascination with the way influential people came about, but it seemed
a little over the top. 'So is she nice? I've heard some of that family are pretty difficult.'

'She's very nice Pete.' Remus said, 'I've met her, not difficult at all, very smart too.'

'And fit.' Sirius added.

Remus laughed under his breath, bloody Padfoot he thought. One track mind.

'Good for you then,' Peter said. 'I haven't been to see James and Lily lately, have you? How's Harry
doing?'

'Yeah,' said Remus. 'I saw them about a week ago. They're doing well. James is struggling with
being locked up as you can imagine. Harry is growing up so fast. I can't believe he'll be a whole
year old in three weeks. What did you say you were going to get him Padfoot?' He looked over at
Sirius, there was that same expression, the one he had had on his face before they came inside.
Wide eyes, shallow breathing, cheeks reddened with … Anger?

Before he could say anything Sirius was on his feet. 'Sorry Remus, Pettigrew, I've got to go. I
forgot I was supposed to – er – meet Hermione. I'll see ya later.' He was already out in the hall
when Remus finally pushed himself to action, he followed him out of the sitting room just in time
to see the front door close behind him with a sharp snap.

What was with him today? He was like a sodding yo-yo, happy, angry, quiet, frightened. Remus
sighed and poked his head back in the room to see Peter coming toward him. 'Pete mate, I'm gonna
go too. See if I can figure out what's up with Padfoot.'
'He must be scared of the Fehr girl if he's that afraid to be late.' Peter said, looking upset. 'Are you
sure she's nice?'

'Yes Pete, don't worry. I sort him out.' Remus clapped Peter on the shoulder again and left,
wondering where to start looking for his unusually emotional friend.

Sirius appeared with a pop on the narrow balcony. He was sucking in huge lungful's of air like he
had never tasted it before, and yet the supply was limited, his chest was so tight, like the feeling of
apparition wouldn't fade.

Excruciatingly slowly his lungs seemed to expand again. A tiny bit at a time. Until there was
oxygen enough for his brain to function again, he felt weak, the muscles in his arms were
twitching, his fingers curling and uncurling of their own devices, his eyes were still tightly closed,
Peter was the first thing he could fully concentrate on. Filthy, lying, fake Peter.

Then, there was a warm hand on his arm, a soft urgent voice in his ear, 'Sirius? What's happened?
Who's –? Is someone hurt?'

'No I'm just … Peter.' he managed to reply, 'Moony and I, we … we saw Peter.'

'Oh,' said her soft understanding voice, she tugged at his arm, pulling him inside with her. He was
pushed onto the sofa her consoling hand rubbed small circles on his back as she said, 'Cup of tea
then? Or wine? It's nearly five you know, quite an acceptable hour for drinking.'

'Just tea,' he said quietly. 'Wine after.' He amended. His chest was nearing normal capacity again,
the trembling flutter in his muscles diminishing, he tilted his head back and opened his eyes.
Hermione was standing behind the sofa, her hand resting on his shoulder.

'After we get Riddle,' he said his voice a little stronger, 'please tell me I can beat the crap out of
Pettigrew. I don't even want to use magic. I want to feel his face shatter under my fist. I want him to
beg me to stop. I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hate him. Ever.'

The look in Hermione's eyes made him stop. They were very bright, unshed tears glimmering in the
evening sunshine. When she spoke however, her voice was quite steady. 'Yes.' she said, blinking
rapidly. 'I think that would be quite acceptable. Although, you will have to stop. We can't go
through all of this to have you thrown in prison for murder, can we?' she gave him a funny little
smile. 'You know I'm not one for violence, but sometimes … well let's just say, I'm not opposed to
it in this situation.'

He smiled back at her, the panicked anger he had felt was gone now, leaving him feeling
exhausted. He closed his eyes again. 'Thanks.' he said quietly.

He listened as she bustled around the little kitchen, his eyes still shut tight. Trying to guess what
each noise was made by, the flow of the tap into the kettle, the slow hissing as it began to boil, the
pop of the tea container lid, a metallic clink of a teaspoon against china. It was very relaxing. The
idea that something as mundane as tea could make him feel better made him feel slightly silly, it
was a bit childish. But that thought couldn't wipe the small grin from his lips.

'I must have known you'd need cheering up today.' Hermione's voice startled him out of his
confusing half-daydream, half-real dream, where he was boiling Pettigrew in a giant teapot.

Opening his eyes, he saw her putting the tea tray on the coffee table, there was the normal white
china teapot and matching cups with saucers, but next to it was a small pile of colourful
macaroons. He grinned at her. 'I love macaroons' he said.
'Oh good.' she said happily. 'There's a French bakers just down the road. I don't know whether to be
happy or worried that I've discovered it.' she said as she poured the tea.

'Worried?' he asked. 'Macaroons make the world go round, especially the blue ones. There is
something so brilliant about a blue food, so unnatural, yet so delicious. Nothing to worry about
there.'

She laughed. 'You have a point. I've always thought they look so wizardish, I think that's why I like
them. Muggle food in magic disguise.'

'You know,' he said, after devouring the bright blue treat in two bites, 'you're setting and awfully
high standard here. I'm might start to expect it every visit.'

'You can expect whatever you like,' Hermione said an orange biscuit in her hand, 'it doesn't mean
you'll get it.'

'Hey, I'm in need of cheering up remember, one of my friends is a traitorous wanker and my best
friends and godson are in danger, and I really want to tell Remus what is actually going on so he
won't be so bloody nice to Pettigrew. So don't be mean. Blue baked goods only go so far.'

'I've been thinking about Remus too.' she said, ignoring the rest of his outburst.

'You have?' He asked, there was that feeling, like worry, again. He didn't want too many people
knowing who she really was, it could endanger the mission – and the people who knew of it. But
he trusted Moony. With everything. He might call James his best friend, but he and Remus were
just as close, they almost had more in common than he and James, and now that James was
married, with different priorities, it was easy to have Moony fill that void.

'Yes, I thought we could tell him, just not yet, maybe after we get all the Horcruxes. I'm sure you'll
want someone to talk to about all of this when it's over. And you won't see me again for a while,
and then I won't know anything anyway until I get back so maybe –'

'That is going to be really weird you know. I hadn't thought of that … Knowing who you are, and
what you're going to do.'

'I realise that.' she said. 'That's why I'm taking notes, before I go I'm going to have a day to day
account of what I did, and then I'll leave it with someone - maybe Dumbledore - so that he can
prepare me for what I need to do. Because that's the most difficult part to get my head around, there
will be no Voldemort, so my friends and family won't be broken or have had to suffer so much. But
unless twenty-one-year-old me goes back for five months, then the original timeline will exist
again. But without the war, I will not be the person I am, so will I even want to come back? '

Sirius was thunderstruck, this woman … she was just so, what had she said the other night?
Capable. And logical, it was as though she could solve anything, as long as she had parchment and
a quill, and some time to think. But she was right, would she be the fighter she was without the
war? Would she have the determination to destroy someone that hadn't been around her whole life
chasing and wanting to murder her best friend?

She was still talking Sirius realised.

'So I have memories stored up to go with the notes. A list of instructions for Dumbledore - you
know, like what I need to be trained in, and taught about.'

'Er … right.' Said Sirius, 'Well, let me know if you want any help with it.' He tried to sound pleased
that she was so prepared, but a guilty selfish little voice in his head said, what about me? We're
friends now, it's not fair that I have to wait to see this you again for twenty years.
 A Year's Supply of Gillyweed

23th July

The day was very warm as Sirius strolled up Diagon Alley, the sun was at its highest, and he was
coming to regret wearing his boots and jeans on such a bright midsummer afternoon. The
underground tunnels of Gringotts would be another matter entirely though. As that was his
destination he decided he could handle the slight discomfort.

He mounted the marble steps and passed the goblin guarded sets of doors.

The bank was much cooler than the glaring heat outside, even just the in the hall. As he waited
patiently in line for his turn at the counter he observed the other customers, harried faces, shifting
worried glances; it was not a pleasant atmosphere. Gringotts was a high priority target for
organisations like the Death Eaters. They knew people were driven by gold.

When the old witch in front of him finally moved away from the counter, she had been there some
time seemingly needing the goblin serving her to triple check each one of the coins she was
withdrawing to make sure it wasn't counterfeit. Sirius stepped up and smiled winningly at the
goblin, all he got in return was an unctuous look from the black glittering eyes. 'How may I help
you today?'

'I'd like to make a withdrawal.' Sirius said. 'Direct from my vault please.' He tried the smile again.
No response.

'Name?'

'Sirius Black.'

'Key or high security?' Asked the goblin, he sounded bored.

Sirius thrust the small golden key across the counter. His personal vault was not nearly as
important at the family one, it wasn't even his original personal one. His father had closed that
when he was disowned. Sirius had opened this new vault himself the same summer, he'd had the
forethought to keep some gold with Mr and Mrs Potter for the two years leading up to that
summer. He'd known it was coming, that something would put his mother over the edge finally
and he would be 'out on his arse' so to speak.

So when he decided to leave, rather than wait for them to kick him out, he'd opened his new vault
and James's parents had transferred his meagre savings. Then when his Uncle Alphard died three
years ago, he'd left Sirius all the gold he had. A very decent amount, this had been added to his
vault as well. He still needed to work, but there had been plenty to buy his upstairs flat that he
loved so much. And there was still enough to get him though the rest of his life if he included his
Auror pay packet, as long as he didn't go mad and waste it all.

The goblin passed his key back to him and summoned another goblin, "Bakruc" to take him down
to the vaults.

When Sirius stepped back out into the sunshine he headed directly to Quality Quidditch Supplies. It
was Harry's birthday in ten days and he wanted to get him something brilliant. He had a list from
Lily of the things she wanted for him too, as she couldn't go out shopping. But they were boring,
several books – the kid was turning one, he could barely talk, let alone read, My First Potions Kit,
well that might have potential for explosions but you still had to learn to make explosions. That's
what Hogwarts was for. He still had ten years before learning was required. Lily seemed
determined to turn Harry into a prodigy, and while Sirius knew intelligence was important, every
kid should be a kid before all that dull stuff began. And anyway, with James and Lily as parents the
boy was going to be top heavy anyway.

As Sirius perused the items for sale in the Quidditch store, he heard a man and woman arguing.

'Absolutely not Rab!'

'Why? It only goes two feet off the ground, what's the problem?'

'The problem?' There was an angry huffing and the woman stormed around the corner, into the row
Sirius had been eavesdropping from. Curiosity piqued, Sirius followed her path back around the
shelving to see what they had been looking at. Surely Quidditch gear wasn't something to fight
over.

There was a man kneeling down looking at the stock closest to the floor, muttering under his
breath, 'bloody overprotective, boy's got to learn somehow.'

When Sirius realised what the crouching man was looking at his heart leapt, actually leapt. A
massive grin breaking across his face, it was perfect. Prongs would love it! And he didn't think
Lily would hate it too much.

'Mate,' Sirius said to the man, who was staring longingly at the toy broomstick, "Ages 1-4 – Hover
charm included" 'Do you think those are good?'

The man didn't look up, 'Yeah,' he said, 'I really want to get one for my son, he's turning two next
month.' He sighed, 'But you know wives, couldn't possibly let the children have any fun.'

'Ah,' said Sirius. 'Don't have one of those myself, everyone seems so keen to get married, then they
do, and all they do is complain, I figure, best quit while I'm ahead.'

The man snorted, finally standing up, still not taking his eyes of the shiny miniature brooms.
'You're a smart bloke.' He turned holding out his hand, 'I'm Rab, nice to meet –' he cut off,
coughed, and said, 'Nice to see you again, Black,' but his voice had lost its friendly quality.

His had was still out, so Sirius took it, shaking firmly for a moment and saying, 'Good to see you
Rab,' he must have played some terrible joke on this guy at school, he looked a bit older than him
though, the face was familiar, then all of a sudden it clicked Rab … Rabastan ... Rabastan
Lestrange. Bellatrix's brother in-law, possible Death Eater … probable Death Eater. Sirius didn't
let on; he was meant to be back in the family now after all. 'How many kids do you have now?'

Rabastan looked shocked that Sirius didn't sneer at him, 'Three,' he said, 'the boy's the youngest,
two girls as well.'

'Well.' Sirius said. 'Good for you. I'm going to get one of these for my godson. One of the perks of
not having a wife, as I said.' He took a broom in a box from the display, grinned sympathetically at
Rabastan, clapped him on the shoulder and left to make his purchase.

How bloody weird he thought, he would have expected Rabastan to hex him right there. Surely the
news of his re-admittance to the family wouldn't have travelled that fast.

It turned out that it had, because as he was leaving the shop, a strong hand caught his arm, 'Black,
Is it true? … You're dating a Fehr?'
Sirius grinned. 'I am my good man,' he said, 'lovely thing she is too.'

'My brother told me, he's married to your cousin.'

'I know Rab,' Sirius said, 'Bellatrix. I must admit, you think your wife is tough, put yourself in your
brothers' shoes.'

Then Lestrange was laughing. 'You always were a cheeky sod Black.' He held out his hand again,
'good luck with the girl.' he said, as Sirius shook his hand for the second time.

'Same to you,' Sirius replied.

As he continued his shopping, working his way down the list, Sirius couldn't help thinking how
convenient it would be to have a friend in the Lestrange family. They were holding a Horcrux after
all, and Rabastan didn't act like a total pureblood twat. He was sure Rabastan was a total pureblood
twat, but a fake friendship was easier when twattery wasn't on display.

An hour later, Sirius checked the list one more time, he'd purchased everything. Folding the
parchment in half to slip it in his pocket he noticed something on the back, a little doodle: a pair of
antlers, two paw prints and whiskers, he chuckled to himself, 'Prongs' he muttered, he pulled out
his wand smiling, 'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.' he said quietly, tapping the note. A
message in James's handwriting appeared,

Padfoot,

Please get Harry something fun for his birthday, a kid can't survive on the stuff Lily wants. And if
you have time, grab me something from Gambol and Japes, I'm bored out of my mind!

DTV

Prongs.

Sirius laughed out loud. It was an old trick from school. There were hundreds of uses for hidden
messages. But hiding your opinion from your wife, on her own shopping list, was a new one. He
turned and headed back up the winding street, he still had half an hour to get back to the Ministry,
and the joke shop was beckoning.

Sirius was in his corner of the Auror headquarters, halfway through shucking his hideously
uncomfortable Ministry robes back on, when Frank Longbottom's voice called to him over the
cubical wall, 'Oh good, you're back, Moody wants to see us.'

'What have I done now?' Sirius asked, as he tried to right the collar and shoulders of the straight-
jacket.

'No idea,' Frank replied, 'he didn't look pissed off though.' he shrugged, 'Guess we'll find out.'

'Moody didn't look pissed? Merlin Frank now I'm actually scared. The only thing that would make
Alastor Moody happy is me in terrible, never-ending pain.'

Frank blanched, 'Then why does he want me?'

It was Sirius's turn to shrug, 'Maybe the medieval torture device he's going to use on me requires a
second wand?'

Frank laughed a little nervously.

'Whatever happens Longbottom,' Sirius said, as he gave up on straightening his robes and left the
cubical in the direction of Moody's office, 'promise me you'll tell them I didn't scream.'

'Cut the dramatics Black.' Moody growled through the half-open door of his office, to Sirius's great
embarrassment he jumped a little in fright. Frank let out a real laugh. Sirius glared at him.

'Get in here, you two.' Moody continued impatiently.

They took seats opposite him, the Head Auror was sitting behind his large carved wooden desk, a
stack of parchment nearly obscured him from view, his wooden leg was detached and resting on
the desktop.

'Alright.' he shook his grizzled grey hair from his equally rough looking face and said, 'I have an
assignment for the pair of you, and it's not a pleasant one.'

'I thought you said he wasn't pissed.' Sirius hissed behind his hand to Frank.

'Somehow you just bring it out in me Black,' Moody said, his wiry grey eyebrows contracting.

Sirius laughed, 'Sorry about that old man. So, go on what's the job?' He looked at the ominous
parchment stack, 'Let me guess - those are the clearance forms for a year's supply of gillyweed, and
you're sending me on total submersion mission - for twelve months - to look for Death Eater
hideouts at the bottom of the Baltic Sea?'

Sirius could barely believe it when he saw Moody smile. It was only for a second, but he was sure
it was there.

Moody grunted, 'That would be a bloody dream come true Black. But no, sadly, only these are for
you.' He passed two sheets to each of the younger Aurors.

'Ireland?' Frank asked, after glancing at the parchment.

'That's right,' said Moody, 'We've been getting some funny talk out of there for the last month. We
just want a bit more information. It's undercover, so you've got five days to get your stuff together.
No contact in or out.'

'But Moody, what about Alice and Neville? What if something happens?' Frank looked very
concerned.

'I'll contact you Longbottom, and you both have your emergency portkey authorisation licence so if
something goes wrong, you'll be home in ten minutes. I would remind you, Longbottom,' Moody
went on, 'that your wife is a very competent Auror, I think she can manage a week without you
being home for dinner.'

'Yes Sir.' Frank said, abashed.

'So you leave here at nineteen hundred hours on the twenty eighth. Back at seventeen hundred on
the fourth of August. All the other details are on the info sheets.'

Sirius felt his chest constrict slightly. He was going to miss Harry's birthday. Wasn't that just
bloody perfect.

Hermione stifled a little scream as she started to close the curtains in her room that evening. There
was a tall man in long dark robes with a hood, silhouetted by the glow of the city in the gathering
darkness on her balcony, she ducked out of sight of the window. Steadying her breathing she took
another peek, he was just standing there, apparently transfixed by the rather mediocre view.

The doors were locked, both the muggle and magical way and she had reinforced the glass, there
were charms over the whole room, no one could get in without her letting them. But that didn't
really make her much more comfortable.

The man still hadn't moved, she heard a loud siren of an ambulance passing in the street below, she
took her chance.

Unlocking the doors with a sharp tap, she eased one open and pointed her wand at the man's back.
It was so dark now she could only just make him out, 'Protrificus Totalus' she whispered. He fell
backwards, and landed with a hard crack, face up at Hermione's feet.

She lit her wand and pointed directly at his chest, the glow lit his face.

'Oh for goodness sake!' she exclaimed. 'I told you the other night, don't stand out here when I'm not
expecting it. You gave me a fright.'

Sirius's wide grey eyes were staring up at her, the only part of him that showed any movement, and
while in a immobile face, the glare he was giving her was diminished, it was enough to make her
wonder if she really wanted to unfreeze him. He looked quite annoyed. She could understand why.

'Sorry,' she said, 'Finite.'

'What in the name of merlin was that for?' Sirius ground out, his hand going behind his head, his
fingers pressing down on his skull, 'Nearly cracked my bloody head open!'

'Sorry.' Hermione said again, 'But honestly Sirius, you can't stand out here – with a hood on no
less, so I couldn't tell it was you – and not expect me to react.'

'Who else would it be? You have lots of blokes calling here in the evenings do you?' There was a
slight smile in his voice now. 'I'm so hurt. I thought I was the only one.' Hermione laughed and
extended her hand to help him up. 'That'll teach me for dating a Swiss strumpet.' He said as he got
to his feet.

'Yes.' Hermione said, playing along. 'Mother says I need to keep my options open.'

He grinned at her again still rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the concrete floor. 'And
to think I came here to be cheered up. Do you still have macaroons?' he added hopefully.

'I do, but you ate all the blue ones already.'

Sirius sighed, 'This day just keeps getting worse and worse.'

'I'll put the kettle on.' Hermione said as she lead the way back inside. Sirius let out a loud
discontented huff as he fell in heap on the sofa. 'God, you really are all drama today aren't you?'
Hermione muttered from the kitchen.

'You would be too.' he mumbled, his voice sounded muffled, 'Spent my lunch break shopping for
Lily who has possibly the most boring taste in birthday presents ever, and I had to make small-talk
with a total berk. Then I got orders from Moody that I'm to go on a non-contact assignment for a
whole week. And then, when I come here for a bit of tea and macaroony sympathy, I get a dirty
great concussion instead.'
Hermione shook her head at his dramatics. 'No, you're getting tea and macaroony sympathy as well
as a concussion, and I did warn you not to lurk out there.'

He huffed again, 'I wasn't lurking. I was thinking.'

Hermione put the tea tray down on the table and pulled the pillow he was hiding his face under
away from him. 'I'm listening,' she said, throwing the pillow onto the vacant armchair and pouring
him some tea.

He frowned at her and pushed himself upright, seizing a yellow biscuit from the tray. 'I have to
miss Harry's birthday.' He said in a small voice. 'I know he won't remember, but I really wanted to
be there.'

Hermione remembered the letter from Lily that Harry had found in Sirius's bedroom in Grimmauld
place.

'She only invited me, Moony and Pettigrew and one of the neighbours, and Peter well, he says he
can't go 'cause of his mum, but he'll probably be giving Voldemort a foot rub or something, and
Moony is on duty for the Order and there's no one he can swap with, and now I can't go either. It's
just shit that's all.'

'I know,' Hermione said consolingly.

'You'll never guess what I got him though,' Sirius said, eyes brightening slightly.

'Really?' Hermione challenged, smirking a little smugly.

Sirius took the bait, 'What, you think you're so clever?'

'I do, I bet I can figure it out … you said Lily wanted to get him boring presents … so you will
have got the opposite.' Sirius nodded reluctantly. 'And you love jokes and tricks …' He smirked
and nodded, 'No … that wouldn't work,' Hermione said, still pretending to give all the options
consideration and tapping her finger against her lip, 'Well … with a father like James … perhaps a
toy racing broom?'

'How on earth?' Sirius said. 'Have you been having me followed?'

Hermione laughed, 'No, but I am from the future, you dummy.'

'Oh right.' Sirius grimaced, 'Give me a break it's been a long day, and a shitty one.'

'So where are you going on your mission?'

'Northern Ireland,' he said, taking a gulp of tea. 'I really don't want to, it's me and Frank so that will
be okay, but a whole week? What if Dumbledore tries to send you on another mission? You could
get hurt.'

'Hey,' Hermione corrected him, 'if you remember, you were the one who needed my help to get out
of that disaster last time. But I won't. I've told Dumbledore it's too risky. The Prewetts being alive
is one thing, but no more. It's too hard, and too dangerous.'

'Okay, well that's good.' He still looked a bit downcast as he said, 'You won't get too bored though
will you? I mean it will be seven days without any contact from anyone.'

'I can see Dumbledore if it gets that bad. He's got a bit more time now that its holidays.'
'True.' Sirius didn't seem reassured by this for some reason.

'So what is this mission for?' Hermione asked, she wasn't really worried, this must be the reason
Sirius didn't attend Harry's birthday last time round, so that meant he would come back alright from
it. And Lily didn't mention being worried about him or anything in the letter that Harry had found.

'Just undercover, we're going to be muggles,' Sirius shook his head looking slightly bemused,
'ridiculous to choose me and Frank seeing as how we both grew up wizard but that's Moody –
believes everyone knows just as much as he does – and then gets shirty with you when you don't.
So yeah, muggles for a week, trying to find out what the Death Eaters are doing over there.
Moody's worried they have some part in the IRA and are using it as a front for killing muggles.'

Okay, maybe she should be a little worried. 'Um … that's really dangerous Sirius, the IRA? They're
pretty serious guys. Especially for two posh English blokes to be around.'

Sirius laughed, 'Twil be Polyjuice and accents all the way Pet.' He said, a pleasant Irish lit touching
his voice.

'Polyjuice, the whole time?'

'Yeah, we'll forget what we really look like by the end of it. I had to be this really short bloke last
time, it was for three weeks and when it was over, and I was back as me, I smacked my head on
everything. Drove me crazy, I think I have a dent actually.' He raised his hand to the back of his
head again, 'Oh no wait, you did that.'

'I've said I'm sorry.' Hermione said with a wry grin, 'And it will teach you – don't sneak up on me.'
 Black Tea

28th July

There were butterflies the size of hippogriffs in Hermione's stomach as she and Sirius walked up
the front path to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was dragging his feet the nearer they got to the house and Hermione got the impression he
didn't want to be there at all. 'You didn't need to come with me Sirius, I can handle your mother
better than you can.' she said quietly, for at least the fifth time that day. She was getting quite
frustrated with his out of the blue coddling. Sirius had been trying to dissuade her from attending
this afternoon's high tea since she had received the invitation three days ago, and despite the fact
that she had already proved she could handle herself he insisted she needed his protection. From a
tea party of all things. Did he really still think she couldn't cope? She had made Walburga Black
laugh for goodness sake. If she could trick her, she should be able to fool the rest of them.

'It's not my mother I'm worried about,' Sirius said through his teeth, his eyes on the approaching
door, 'It's all the other bigoted maniacs that will be in there.'

'Dumbledore said Mrs Longbottom attends these things, and some of the Crouch women, they're
not bigots, and anyway, I'm a pureblood remember?' Hermione forced her voice to sound
reasonable even though she was very irritated, because she knew an awful lot was dependant on her
continuing safety, and that Sirius's whole life would be ruined if she was put out of action, he was
allowed to worry about that, but surely he didn't expect that destroying the darkest wizard of all
time would be risk-free.

Sirius ran his hand through his hair, clearly not reassured. 'But what if …'

'Oh will you stop it?' she snapped after all, 'This is part of it. They need to believe me, to trust me.
Narcissa will be here I want to make friends with her, it could be an in to the diary. Just deal with it
okay?' Dumbledore had told Hermione that these high teas were very proper affairs, all eggshell
cups, narrow cucumber sandwiches and discussions on the best new robe designers. Very
frightening – though only in the form of social embarrassment, not mortal peril.

Hermione had done her research - of course. The latest names and collections all locked away in
her iron memory. As well as fashionable restaurants and apothecaries, beauty salons and hair care.
She felt like her mind was crammed full of the most pointless and shallow information. But she
would need it for the next four months, so crammed in it would stay.

Sirius's expression was stony as he knocked on the door. 'I'll come back and get you at six,' he said
in a cool voice, 'I have to be at the Ministry by six-thirty, so that will be the reason you have to
leave. I'm sure they will understand that as I'm going to be away for a week, you'll want to say
good-bye.'

It clicked then, that perhaps hers wasn't the only temper that was affect by nerves. Maybe Sirius
was anxious about the Irish assignment. He was probably wondering what would happen to the
Horcrux plan if he was injured. But Hermione had a slight advantage there, she knew he got out of
it okay. the older Sirius had regaled them with tales of his exciting life as an Auror during the
Christmas they spent at Grimmauld Place, after Harry and Ron had told him that's what they
wanted to do when they finished school. Sirius hadn't mentioned anything about Northern Ireland.
He had said that he'd nearly lost his left arm while trailing a Death Eater in 1980, and countless
other near misses, so surely if something had gone wrong he would have said something. The only
thing was, she couldn't reassure Sirius because then he might not be as careful, and then he might
get hurt.

The bolts in the heavy door began to click and grind, 'Come on,' she said to him, feeling a little
guilty for not understanding why he was so tetchy, 'we're a happy couple, get a smile on those lips.'
She jogged him in the ribs and he turned the corners of his mouth up slightly.

'Miss Fehr, Master Sirius, welcome.' Kreacher's voice croaked, after the door opened, 'The ladies
are in the drawing room Miss Fehr, if you would follow me.'

'Thank you Kreacher.' Hermione said.

The elf looked at her for a moment, then turned his bloodshot eyes on Sirius. 'Master Sirius, Master
is in the library if you is here to see him, you is welcome to visit him there.'

'I wanted to greet Mother before I talk to Grandfather, Kreacher.'

'Of course, Master Sirius.' Kreacher turned and led the way into the house.

They followed the little elf across the entry-way, passed the dining room doors and up the
staircase.

'Miss Fehr has arrived Mistress, Master Sirius has escorted her.' Kreacher said, as he preceded them
into the drawing room.

'Welcome Hermione,' Walburga said quite warmly, then she turned her sharp eyes on her son, and
said pointedly, 'Sirius this is a ladies event, your Grandfather is in the library, you should be polite
and say hello before you leave.'

'Yes Mother,' Sirius said politely, 'I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be away for the next
week, I will be unreachable until Wednesday.' He surveyed the other three women in the room, as
if sizing up opponents in battle, then with his most disarming smile in place Sirius moved to take
the hand of an elderly woman who was wearing a very peculiar hat. Although it was the standard
witch shape with a narrow brim and rather short point, there were brightly coloured beads arranged
around the base, trailing down to loop around her wrinkly neck, it really didn't seem to fit in with
the refined or even dowdy attire of the rest of the quests. 'Aunt Cassie,' Sirius said.

'Is that the Bloodtraitor?' Cassiopeia asked, her voice was weak and quavering as she turned her
head as if to hear him better.

'Not anymore Aunt Cassie,' Sirius said, 'nice to see you haven't changed.' He briefly brushed his
lips across the back of her time-worn hand, and carefully placed it back on her cane. Then Sirius
directed his gaze to a severe old woman dressed in deep green robes. Her silver hair was pulled
back harshly from her lined face, 'Ma M,' he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, 'How are you?'

Her eyes widened in shock, 'I'm surprised,' she said honestly, 'but pleased that you have come to
your senses. My son would have been relieved to know your idiocy was not permanent.'

'I'm sure you're right.' Sirius smiled at her, his insincerity only showing in the clipped 't' at the end
of his sentence, and Hermione thought she only noticed because she was looking for it, 'And who
is this?' Sirius continued, his charming smile widening as he reached for the young woman's hand
at Ma M's side. 'I don't think we've met.'

'This is my niece Anita Macmillan.' Ma M said, 'She is married to my brother's son.'

'Well, it is lovely to meet you Anita.' Sirius said, kissing her hand. 'Is this your son?' he asked,
kneeling down to let the little boy next to her clasp his finger.

'Yes, this is Ernest,' said Anita proudly.

'He's very handsome,' Sirius said with another grin, standing up again. He turned back to
Hermione, crossing the room in a few quick strides, 'Hermione, I'll just go and see Grandfather
before I leave, I'll be back at six to collect you.'

'Thank you.' she said, meeting his eyes. There was something she couldn't quite pick going on
behind the grey, daring? Then his mouth turned up in a tiny smirk and Hermione realised it was
mischief. Before she could do anything else, he had taken her hands pulled her closer to him and
kissed her on the lips. She almost pushed him away to laugh at his cheekiness, but realised that
would raise suspicion, he pulled back quickly in any case, his smirk in place one more. 'See you
soon.' Then he turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks as she realised everyone was looking at her, There was
a stifled giggle from Anita, which was quelled by a look from Ma M. 'Still taking after Pollux I
see.' the elderly woman said haughtily, her disapproving eyes finding Walburga.

Walburga seemed to grit her teeth as she turned away and schooled her tone into politeness once
more. 'Hermione, I would like you to meet my mother-in-law Melania Black,' Hermione smiled
sweetly, 'Melania this is Hermione Fehr, Daughter of Frederica and Mr Dagworth-Granger.'

'It is lovely to meet you Miss Fehr,' Melania said, 'I know your grandfather Faustus, we attended
Durmstrang together.'

Hermione frowned, Frederica's father's name was Folkurt, and Dagworth-Granger's father was a
Brit called Albert, 'Perhaps you mean my uncle, Mrs Black?' Hermione replied carefully, 'My
Grandfather was Folkurt Fehr. He passed away a long time ago, I would think he had many years
on you. But his nephew is Faustus. I'm afraid he's not too well at the moment. Were you good
friends?'

Melania's face was arranged in a strange closed expression, she was trying to trip me up Hermione
realised, very glad for all the information Frederica had sent her on the family, and the endless
amount of free time Hermione needed to fill with reading. She smiled again to hide her discomfort.

Thankfully the door opened at that moment, and Kreacher entered, 'Mistress, Miss Cissy has
arrived.'

Mrs Malfoy was beautiful in her young age, her long shining blonde hair was loose, her large light
eyes glittering, and a smile. Hermione couldn't believe the difference that wide smile made as
Narcissa entered the room. There was a tiny, pale-haired boy in her arms, clinging to the demure
neckline of her dress with one chubby fist.

The door was still open they could hear the doorbell ring downstairs, and Kreacher vanished with a
crack.

Walburga stood to greet her niece 'Narcissa, how are you?'

'I am very well Auntie,' Narcissa said, 'Draco started standing this morning.' she was glowing, that
smile growing even broader as she looked at the baby on her hip. It made Hermione so glad to see
this proof that even if his father was a self-preserving arse at least Draco's mother loved him.

'Narcissa, this is Hermione Fehr,' Walburga said, when Narcissa had cast a questioning glance in
her direction.

Narcissa smiled at Hermione, 'Auntie said you would be here today, it's nice to meet you. How are
you finding England?'

'It's very nice,' Hermione said, smiling at the cordial, and standard question one asks foreigners.
'My tutor was English, she would always tell me stories, "The Damp Island" she would call it.
Though I have found this summer to be remarkably similar to the ones at home.'

Mrs Longbottom and Mrs Prewett arrived while Hermione was talking quietly with Narcissa, Anita
had moved over to their side of the room now and the two nearly toddling boys were lying side by
side on an embroidered quilt Narcissa had pulled from her bag. Hermione had to hide a small
giggle as she imagined how the Draco Malfoy and Ernie Macmillan she knew would feel about
such a situation.

Hermione was greeted very warmly by Mrs Longbottom who commended Hermione on her
patience with a young man like Sirius Black. 'The stories my Frank tells about him.' She said with a
laugh.

To Hermione's great surprise she found herself quite enjoying the conversation with Anita and
Narcissa, they had moved to a small glass table in the corner and were playing bridge. The other
ladies were still seated on the armchairs and couch, very involved in a lively debate on the
influence of Russian flavours in the high-end restaurants of London.

It was as Hermione threw down her cards in surrender when Anita showed her hand, that it caught
her eye. The glass fronted cabinets that ran along the wall beside them, not thick with dust like they
were the first time she had seen them - but gleaming, the objects inside catching the light. And
there it was, the heavy looking golden locket, innocently lying between a collection of enamelled
snuff boxes and two crystal decanters. Her heart began to race, she could hardly believe that it was
there. Kreacher must have already given up. It was amazing. She had the fake locket she had made
with her, just in case. Was there a chance she could swap them?

'Another hand Hermione?' Narcissa asked, shuffling the cards. 'You must, we can't let Anita here
beat us every time.'

'Of course.' said Hermione, returning her concentration to the game.

When Mrs Longbottom got up to leave she kissed Hermione on the cheek and gave her a brief hug.
'It was lovely to meet you but I must be off. We are very busy at home today. It was Neville's
birthday yesterday, and many of the family are staying.'

'Safe trip home.' Hermione said.

Melania and Anita left not long after her, and Mrs Prewett bid her farewells also. Soon it was just
Narcissa and Walburga left at the bridge table. The snoozing Cassiopeia was still snoring
sporadically in her chair, her cane slipping from her fingers, and her hat tipping precariously
sideways on her head, its colourful beads threatening to strangle her at any moment. Hermione
looked at her watch, it was five o'clock, Sirius would be arriving soon.

Kreacher appeared at Walburga's side, 'Mistress, there's a floo call in your parlour for you.'

'Very well.' Walburga acknowledged him. Kreacher vanished with a resounding crack, Cassiopeia
snorted in her sleep and Draco, who had been resting peacefully in his mother's lap, began to fuss.

'Please excuse my rudeness, but I must see who is calling,' Walburga said, 'I have been waiting for
a message from your sister,' she nodded to Narcissa, 'I was expecting her here today.'

'Of course Auntie.' Narcissa said, distracted by Draco's fussing.

Less than a minute after Walburga had left, Narcissa stood too. 'I need to feed him.' she said
looking down at Draco's scrunched red face, 'He is so hungry all the time at the moment, will you
be okay? Auntie won't be long.'

'Sure,' Hermione said, smiling, 'I'll have a chat with Cassie over there.'

Narcissa grinned. 'I'll be quick.' she said, and headed out the door as Draco began to cry in earnest.

Hermione was on her feet in a flash, she hurried to the cabinet. Cassiopeia was still snoring as
Hermione fished the fake locket from her purse and opened the cabinet, her heart was pounding as
she snatched the Horcrux from its resting place and dropped it into her bag, then she arranged the
copy in the gap it had left on the shelf.

Just as she closed her purse she heard the hinges of the door behind her squeak slightly. 'Not
stealing I hope?' said a deep voice. She spun around, Pollux was standing there.

'Oh … Oh no, I was just admiring this …' her eyes fell on a silver medallion, 'this Order of Merlin.
Who does it belong to?' She asked, trying to control the rapid thumping in her chest.

'Ah,' said Pollux, 'that would be mine.'

'Wow.' she said, impressed, 'What did you receive it for? I understand it's quite an honour.' she
gushed a little, playing the ignorant foreigner.

'That it is.' Pollux said with a proud smile, 'Although, when your uncle is Minister for Magic, they
are not quite as extraordinary.' His eyes fell on the table, and the cards, 'What were you playing?'
he asked.

'Bridge,' Hermione replied, 'but I'm terrible and Anita Macmillan has quite the knack for winning.'
She added ruefully.

'Well, fancy another round?' Pollux asked, pulling out one of the chairs and siting down.

'Sure.' Hermione said, taking a seat at the table and gathering up the cards. As she dealt them out
Walburga and Narcissa both re-appeared.

'Father? What are you doing in here?' Walburga asked, sounding slightly agitated, 'This is a ladies
only event. You know that.'

'I was bored.' Pollux said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if being bored was a reason to
break the rules, 'And Hermione needs tutoring in bridge. I thought I would oblige her.'

They played a hand in pairs, Hermione and Pollux against Narcissa and Walburga. Pollux was a
good teacher, and just as they were dealing out the cards for a third hand Sirius entered the room.

'Hello my love.' he said to Hermione, swooping in to plant a kiss on her cheek, the mischievous
glint in his eye again.

'Hello Sirius,' she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, they'd all see thought him if he kept acting
like lovestruck fool, 'Is it six already? How the time flies.'

'It is, we must be off.' He extended a hand to help her up, smiling at his grandfather.
'Hello cousin.' Narcissa said.

Sirius turned his smile on her in recognition, 'Cissy, how are you? This is your son?' He peered
over the blanket Draco was swaddled in, outstretching his index finger to stroke the flushed little
cheek.

'Yes,' Narcissa said. The glowing smile lighting up her face again. 'His name is Draco.'

Sirius grinned and said sincerely, 'Lucius is a lucky man.' Hermione was very impressed with his
feigned sincerity, she would have believed him without a doubt – if she hadn't known better.

Narcissa smiled at Sirius. 'It's nice to have you back cousin.'

'So how was your afternoon?' Hermione asked casually when they arrived back at the hotel. She
couldn't wait to tell him about the locket, at least he would be able to go to Northern Ireland with
some good news.

'Boring,' said Sirius, 'You're a bad influence on me, normally I leave all my organising to the last
minute, but as you know I had everything done yesterday.' He pulled a piece of parchment from his
pocket. 'If you need to get in touch with me, go to James and Lily's. James has a way of contacting
me that Moody doesn't know about, this is their address'. He handed over the paper.

'How will James know who I am?' Hermione asked pocketing the slip of parchment, 'I could be
anyone.'

'Oh yeah,' Sirius grinned a little wider, 'the code phrase is "Minnie McGoogles loves her tabby
cat."'

Hermione snorted, 'Is there a reply?'

'Yes. "Not as much a Dumbly loves lemon drops and tenpin bowling." Lily knows them too, and
how to talk to me, so you should be fine, James will send you a patronus if for some reason I need
to get you a message.'

'Alright.' she said, suddenly wishing that he didn't have to go.

'So, anything exciting happen at tea?' Sirius asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, 'You lot all
seemed to be getting on pretty well.'

'Yes, although I really hate bridge.' Hermione said, 'But apparently it's the thing to do. You'll never
guess what else though.' she said, and her heart began to race again.

Hermione opened her purse as Sirius asked, 'What?' She hooked her finger through the chain of the
locket and pulled it out.

'FUCK!' Sirius exclaimed at the top of his voice, 'Why didn't you say anything? You actually got
it? Amazing!' He took it from her to examine.

'Ew … gross,' he said after a moment, 'Snakey's soul, that has to be one of the foulest things I've
ever touched.' He gave it back to her. 'Where was it?'

'In the cabinet in the drawing room, it was just luck really,' she beamed at him, 'two Horcruxes
down! I can't believe it.' still smiling, she put the locket back in her purse for safe keeping. 'Sirius,
you should be going. You don't want to be late.'
He looked at his watch and exhaled heavily, 'You're right,' he agreed, 'so yeah, go to James if you
have any problems, otherwise be careful, and um … read lots, and when I get back we'll see about
these Malfoy's.'

'Okay,' she said, 'don't take any risks … er, unnecessary risks.' she amended, before giving him a
fleeting hug. He looked surprised for a moment, and then returned it.

'I'll see you on the fourth.' he said, as she stepped away.

And then he was gone. Hermione felt a strange sense of loss. It was going to be a quiet week.
 Questionable Sanity
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

1st August

Four days after Sirius departure Hermione thought she had gone insane. She was bored. She didn't
think she had been this bored in her whole life. Her notes were as up to date as possible, and had
been thoroughly reorganised three times. The books she had bought with her and the ones
Dumbledore had lent her, were all arranged in alphabetical order. All thirty of them. Annie the
cleaning girl gave her funny looks when she came to service the room, Hermione was always there
and yet there was never any mess. Annie did notice that the furniture was often rearranged, but the
room was spotless, so how could she complain? It meant less work for her.

It was on the First of August that Hermione first questioned her sanity, she was lying in the middle
of her bed at lunchtime, fully dressed with her cup of tea balanced on her stomach, the tea had gone
cold in the time she had being lying there in that questionable position, watching the nearly full
cup almost topple over every time she breathed. But it was something to do. She tried to convince
herself it was some form of exercise, having to keep her stomach muscles tight so she wouldn't get
tea all over the bed. But she was just bored. To the point of lethargic.

Now that she had a fake identity she couldn't go out into the muggle world too often just in case,
and she didn't want to risk being seen by wizards dressed in her own wardrobe, as it was hardly
suitable for a lady of such standing to frolic about Diagon Alley in old faded jeans and cardigans.
She wasn't in the mood for frolicking anyway. She wanted to do something. She wanted to work on
Narcissa, she wanted to go to the country somewhere and practice her feindfyre containment
charm. She wanted to be making progress. Not bloody well lying here, with a cup of cold tea
balanced on her midriff, wondering if it would be worth the mess if she sucked in as much air as
she could, so the cup would tip sideways and spill everywhere, just so she could see if it would fall
to the left or the right.

Well, obviously she no longer needed to question her sanity. It was conspicuously absent.

When the large silver stag appeared in the doorway, Hermione got such a fright that the cup of tea
not only tipped over, but bounced away from her as she jerked upright, sending its cold contents
splattering onto one of the walls. Hermione was quite pleased. Not only was it far more dramatic
than the toppling scenario she had been imagining, but she would be able to clean the mess up.
Another twenty minutes of her day filled, if she did it the muggle way.

The stag opened its mouth and spoke in a voice she assumed was James Potters, it's pitch sounded
quite a lot like Harry's she realised with a pang, but the accent was much more well-bred.

'Hermione,' the stag said, 'Padfoot wanted me to tell you that they are safe and all is going to
schedule. He also said that he is yet to find a decent macaroon in the whole country. He's a weird
bloke. We're looking forward to meeting you.'

As the beautiful creature began to vanish, Hermione's heart rate returned to normal. He was only
meant to contact her in an emergency.

She had figured out that James and Sirius must be using the two way mirrors to communicate. So
she could understand that they might be having frivolous discussions about the quality of local
bakery offerings, but James shouldn't be risking their safety to get such messages to her. Still, she
was quite pleased. It was good to know that Frank and Sirius were safe. She contemplated going to
the Potters just for a bit of company, but that would be awkward and weird. She would need Sirius
there to help smooth over any undue bizarreness in her character when she saw Harry as a baby.

So instead, she cleaned the tea from the wall with the sponge from the kitchen, vanished the stains
it had left on the carpet and bedding, and then took the cup and the sponge back to the kitchen. She
then decided that the books looked too messy in alphabetical order, and set about arranging them
according to size.

4th August

Belfast. Possibly the second most depressing place Sirius had ever been. It was only pipped for
first by his charming childhood home. He had thought the wizarding community was stressed, war
weary and exhausted, but they didn't have a patch on the citizens of this once proud city.

He and Frank had been there for six days. Sirius had read enough to know what was going on with
the local politics. While he despised these criminals for the lives they were taking and the unrest it
was causing the normal law-abiding muggles who made their home here, he still felt an
overwhelming guilt for being British.

The two Aurors had discovered that Death Eaters were indeed involved, but not to the extent
Moody was worried about. They weren't behind the bombings or shootings – but they were
involved in riots.

They had witnessed this happening the day before; the muggle papers were full of one story. 'More
Hunger Strikers Die at Maze.' The streets of the city, somewhere that was never calm to begin
with, were restless. He and Frank had watched as a group of vocal men began to argue, then a new
man, wearing a suspiciously long coat for the summer heat had approached them, there was
suddenly a car set alight - with a conveniently concise blast, two of the muggles were injured and
their compatriots began to fight in earnest. Turning their rage on other cars, and the policemen who
tried to stop them. As the violence began to escalate, Sirius saw the long coated man walking
swiftly away from the scene, and vanish into thin air with a loud pop.

It was so pointless. As if this place needed any help in becoming more violent. But to the Death
Eaters a dead muggle, was a dead muggle.

The two Aurors were leaving the evening, and Sirius couldn't bloody wait to get out of here. He
knew Frank was feeling the same. They were pleased to be able to report to Moody that the only
thing he had to worry about in Northern Ireland was muggles hurting each other. That it wasn't
being driven by Death Eaters as they had feared – just being ever so slightly nudged along.

There wasn't much they could do to stop it, all the Death Eaters they had witnessed in the last
seven days had shown up out of nowhere, caused the fighting to escalate, and then disappeared just
as quickly. They had spoken to many of the locals, but everyone was so cautious around strangers
that they never seemed to get the full story out of them. But it didn't matter. They were going home
today.

Sirius couldn't wait to get back to the routine, they were so close to their target now, well, halfway
but that was good enough. It would all be over soon. The Death Eaters would have no leader; they
would be rounded up and locked away.

Then life could be normal again. No more sleeping with his wand in his hand. No more trepidation
that every letter he got would bring news of death. No more worry about Harry. James and Lily
could go back to their lives, and so could he. What life? he wondered, drinking and shagging
around? It didn't seem all that appealing after doing something this important. Perhaps it would
grow on him again.

Dear Cousin,

I wish to express my happiness that you are once again family.

I spoke with Hermione at length during tea at your mothers, she is truly delightful. Lucius and I
could not be more pleased that you have allied yourself with someone so fitting.

Lucius has extended an invitation to both of you to join us for dinner at the Manor on Wednesday
evening. He wishes to put old differences behind us. With my sister and her husband back on the
continent, and our usual companions otherwise engaged at this time, he has said he would be glad
of some stimulating conversation. Please inform me as soon as you are able if you wish to attend.

Eagerly awaiting your response,

Narcissa Malfoy.

Sirius let out a little snort. He couldn't believe Hermione had charmed his cousin so completely. Of
course they would attend. He thought, they were going to rob them. It was so ridiculous, and it
made him loathe his family even more, this reminder that they really believed he would want to be
part of their shameless, contrived social engagements. But that's purebloods. They couldn't
understand that there were more important things in the word than tea and dinners, shaking the
right wizard's hand or sharing your opinion on some new law or initiative. Idiots.

'Black, Moody says we can leave now.' Frank Longbottom's face had appeared once again over the
wall that divided their work spaces.

They had returned to London an hour ago and were waiting to the last vestiges of polyjuice potion
to fade from their bloodstream. They had been using the time to fill in the post mission report,
better described as a novel in Sirius opinion. Where was Moony when you needed him? and
checking their mail.

Though the invitation from his cousin was pompous, he was very glad to receive it. Hermione
would be so excited. The Diary. Once they had that there was only the cup to go. And it was only
August; there were still twelve weeks to go before Hallowe'en. Sirius was absolutely sure that in
that time they would find a way to get into the Lestrange vault.

When Sirius knocked on the french doors of Hermione's hotel room half an hour later he was
nervous. He hoped that she had been alright. James has said that he'd sent her a patronus, but had
no reply. Sirius knew that he wasn't supposed to get one unless there was a problem but he still felt
uneasy. His gut was flipping uncomfortably as he waited for her to come to the window and let him
in. The curtains were drawn.

Then he heard her voice, 'Minnie McGoogles loves her tabby cat.' the flipping inside him increased
at the sound, and he laughed as he replied, 'Not as much a Dumbly loves lemon drops and tenpin
bowling.'

She drew back the curtains and tapped the door with her wand, a wide smile lighting her face.
'Sirius!' she said, as she opened the door, 'How was it?'
'Fine.' he said, 'Nothing spectacular.' He was so glad to see her. To know that they could get back
to work, that she was okay, he pulled her into a hug the minute he crossed the threshold.

She laughed and returned it. 'Anyone would think you missed me.' She said, voice muffled by his
jacket, to his intense disquiet he felt his face grow warm, of course he'd missed her. They were
bringing down Voldemort together. He had missed doing something actually important.

'Only for your macaroons.' He said with a chuckle, releasing her and turning to shrug his jacket off.

'Well then,' she said 'you're in luck, and this time, I only bought blue ones.'

His smile widened, 'Good to know you pay attention.'

'I try, although I think the counter lady at the bakers is concerned about my sanity. Tea?' She asked
as she bustled over to the kitchen and began assembling a tray.

'Sure.' he said comfortably, flopping down on the sofa, 'Hey… didn't this used to be over there?' he
asked, distinctly remembering the first morning he'd woken up here, and the sofa's rather close
proximity to the coffee table.

'Yes … it did.' said Hermione, her back to him as she filled the teapot. 'But there comes a point
after you have read every book, re-written your notes and eaten far too many macaroons than is
wise for a reasonably inactive person, that moving the furniture about seems like a good idea.' She
was blushing as she bought the tea tray to the table. 'I was, slightly restless, shall we say.'

'I have something that will cheer you up.' Sirius said, pulling the invitation from his jeans pocket
'Your new buddy Cissy has invited us for dinner and stimulating conversation tomorrow night at
Malfoy Manor.'

'Already?' Hermione asked in surprise, 'God, she said she was bored of the other ladies her age but I
didn't realise she was this eager for new friends.'

'You are truly delightful.' Sirius read from the letter, 'You must have done something right.'

'I have to say I'm very glad Bellatrix is in France again.' Hermione said as she read the invitation
for herself. 'She's such a maniac, I'd find it rather hard to be civil to her. Lucius is evil, but he's
weak. I can deal with that. He doesn't hate the same way Bellatrix does. He does it because it keeps
the family safe, and important. Just the way he likes it.'

'Bloody slimy Slytherins' Sirius agreed. 'So, you have to write back to Narcissa today and tell her
that we'll come.'

'Me? But she wrote to you.' Hermione said, confused.

'Yes but she is the Lady, as are you. It's not appropriate for me to write to her. I could reply via
Lucius, but as the request came from the Lady of the house, the Lady of mine should respond in
kind.'

Hermione goggled at him. 'Really? How preposterous.'

'I know, wank wank wank. I suppose that we could argue that as you hold a higher social standing
than I, I am the Lady of your house and therefore it is my place to reply, but I really don't think
even my ego could take such a hit.'

Hermione snorted, 'Point taken.' she said with a giggle. 'Can I send it with Zoff or is that
 inappropriate owl usage?'

Sirius laughed, 'No, no, one owl per house is perfectly acceptable. The other thing is, you need
something to wear. I'm sure my mother would have told Narcissa what you had on the first time
you met, and Narcissa obviously saw you in that green frock last time. We'll have to go and find
something tomorrow. I've got the day off, best thing about going on an assignment.'

Hermione sighed, 'Is that really necessary to get more new clothes? It seems like such a waste of
money.'

'You think Voldemort's soul isn't worth a few hundred Galleons?'

'Of course. I'm the one who robbed a bank to get here, remember?'

'Oh yeah…' he said, 'and stole a car, you're a right shady character.' he was laughing again, he
really couldn't think of anything less likely than this innocent looking girl being arrested for Grand
Theft Auto or Fraud. The jury would laugh it out of court.

'Yes.' Hermione said, 'Criminal behaviour aside, it's just that I'm going to be gone soon and then
you'll have to rely on your money for the rest of your life, I mean it's not like you're going to keep
up this deception once I've left are you? It's just silly to use your gold for overpriced clothes, you're
probably going to have a real family to support one day. I'd use my money but Diagon Alley shops
don't accept credit cards, and I feel bad considering is all stolen anyway.'

Sirius knew that he had to be careful with his gold. But he really couldn't think of a better cause
than fooling these Voldemort loving freaks. He would gladly empty his whole vault if it meant
assuring Voldemort's defeat. Why didn't she understand that? It was only gold. He could always
earn more.

'Hermione, I don't need to be rich you know.' He said placatingly, 'Aurors earn a decent wage, I
could live off that quite happily, and even if I spent all my inheritance on this, on stopping
Voldemort, I would never regret it.' He smiled at her. 'Besides, a few dresses and some pretty
shoes? It's hardly breaking the bank.'

'Oh fine. I guess I shouldn't really consider it a hardship. Oh poor me, I must have designer clothes
forced upon my person.' She laughed. 'Okay, so how do I respond in kind to Narcissa's invite? You
need to help me.'

Sirius laughed too. He was so glad to be back.

A/N: I know the troubles are still a sensitive topic - and I hope I haven't caused offense with Sirius
opinion on Belfast. My uncle was a police officer in London from '68 to '85 and he was sent to N.I.
in '76 to help - Sirius thoughts are an almost word for word repetition of what my uncle told me he
felt. Plagiarism?

But on a brighter note: Yay - Malfoy's

Chapter End Notes

I know the Troubles are still a sensitive topic - and I hope I haven't caused offense
with Sirius opinion on Belfast. My uncle was a police officer in London from '68 to '85
and he was sent to N.I. in '76 to help - Sirius's thoughts are an almost word for word
repetition of what my uncle told me he felt. Plagiarism?

But on a brighter note: Yay, Malfoys!

 Whiskey and Wine

5th August

Malfoy Manor would have been intimidating enough for Hermione, without the memories it
inspired in her. It was a beautiful old country estate, set in the peaceful Wiltshire greenery. The
summer evening was pleasantly cool as she and Sirius walked up the road that was boarded by tall,
thick, deep green hedgerows. But this glorious setting did nothing to dispel the unsettling
recollections.

When they reached the front gate at the bottom of the long drive, she could almost feel the
constricting ropes around her chest, binding Harry and Ron, Griphook and Dean to her. The sound
of the gravel drive crunching under their feet as they walked calmly toward their dinner
engagement barely registered in her ears.

When they arrived at the wide double front doors she could hear Greyback's rasping voice, " You
know me. Fenrir Greyback. We've caught Harry Potter." Hermione's heels clicked loudly as they
crossed the stone floored entrance hall.

Then as they were shown to large comfortable seats in the drawing room her innards twisted as she
felt the pang of terror – again, that had gone through her when Bellatrix had entered that same
room, and she'd thought for sure that they were all about to die.

It was Dobby the house-elf's squeaky voice that brought her out of her troubled reverie. She had a
sudden flashing image, as blurred and disorientated as it was the first time she'd seen it through
half-unconscious eyes. The tiny elf standing before Bellatrix his eyes burning with pride, "Dobby
is a free elf and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

'Master and Mistress will be here very soon Mr Black and Miss Fehr, can Dobby get you a drink
while you wait?'

Hermione smiled at the brave elf, 'Thank you very much Dobby,' she said kindly, 'I would love a
glass of wine. Sirius?'

'The same.' He said, not sparing a glance for Dobby, but looking at Hermione in consternation.

'Dobby will be right back Sir and Miss,' and he vanished with a crack.

Sirius leaned close to her on the couch and whispered in her ear, 'Are you alright? I thought I'd lost
you for a minute there.'

'I'll tell you after.' Hermione breathed, she was concerned about being over heard. With good
reason.

'Hermione, Sirius, thank you so much for coming.' Narcissa was gliding toward them from the
other end of the wide room, looking immaculate as ever, beautiful golden hair slightly curly today,
and wearing a very becoming dress of pale lavender, which seemed to have been made for her.
Hermione realised that it probably had been made for her. No wonder she looked so perfect.
'Lucius is just finishing some business upstairs. He will be along shortly.'

Both Hermione and Sirius stood to greet their hostess, Sirius stepping forward first taking his
cousin's hand and raising it to his lips. He offered his easy grin as he said, 'Cissy, it's wonderful to
see you again. How are Lucius and Draco?'
'Quite well.' she said returning his smile before turning to Hermione, 'I'm so glad you're here.' she
said leaning in to kiss Hermione on each cheek.

Hermione was overwhelmed by the expensive fragrance of French perfume that wafted from the
blonde woman as she pulled away. 'Thank you so much for inviting us.' Hermione said. 'It is lovely
to be so welcomed by Sirius family.'

Narcissa beamed. 'I hope you will be family soon too Hermione.' There was a knowing smile on
her lips.

Sirius swallowed nosily beside them.

Thankfully they were interrupted by Dobby appearing with a crack beside them. 'Your wine, Sir
and Miss, would you like a drink too Mistress? Dinner is half an hour away.'

'I will have the same as my guests.' Narcissa said dismissively.

'Yes Mistress.' and the elf was gone.

They had been making small talk for ten minutes, Narcissa complementing Hermione on her
jewellery (the same Fehr Family Necklace she had worn to tea with Mrs Black) when Lucius
entered the drawing room. A short glass of Firewhiskey in his hand.

Hermione had to take a sip of wine to control her expression. It was so easy to be in Narcissa's
company. She was gracious and kind. With an obvious knack in social situations. Something bred
into her no doubt Hermione thought. But her husband, younger though he might be, still had the
same cool, calculating eyes, the same drawling voice, and the same slight sneer pulling at his
upper lip as he greeted them.

'Miss Fehr.' He said, taking her hand for the perfunctory kiss. 'My wife speaks very highly of you.
It is an honour to have you in our home.'

Hermione gave a tinkling laugh, 'That is very kind, but I'm sure your wife only likes having me
around for my ability to lose at bridge.' She shared a conspiratorial glance with Narcissa, 'I
understand she was quite tired of being the worst player at High Tea.'

Lucius's sneer lifted to a real smile as he looked at his wife.

Narcissa smiled playfully, 'Oh, you caught me.' she said in mock embarrassment.

Lucius chuckled slightly, shaking his head, 'I am yet to meet a woman with any card playing
potential. Wouldn't you agree Black?'

He held his hand out to Sirius who shook it, and said, 'I don't know about that, Malfoy, I think the
ladies are lucky they play bridge at tea and not poker, Hermione is quite the shark, cleans me out
on a regular basis.'

What on earth was he talking about? Hermione wondered. They'd never played poker together.
This was dangerous. What if Lucius wanted to see her phenomenal skills? She could play but that
wasn't the point.

'Perhaps that is a reflection of your skill, and not hers?' Lucius said loftily.

'Touché Malfoy.' Sirius said, grinning at him.

Lucius looked rather surprised. He had obviously expected Sirius to bite at the insult. Hermione
smiled inwardly, Sirius was good at this, the diary was here somewhere, there was nothing Lucius
could say that he would take offence to tonight.

After dinner they retired separately, Hermione and Narcissa to his cousin's private parlour and
Sirius and Lucius to the long, dark panelled library. It was a similar size to the one at Grimmauld
Place, but a much more pleasant room to be in.

'Cigar, Black?' Malfoy offered, holding out the flat wooden box.

Sirius was mildly pleased. He'd wanted a cigarette since they'd arrived, but thought that Malfoy
would frown on it as a muggle pastime. Apparently cigars were free of such stigma. Sirius smiled
as he took one from the humidor and cut the end with the silver clipper Malfoy passed him.

'I thought you'd appreciate these, they were a gift from your father when Narcissa became
pregnant. From his own private collection he told me.'

Sirius smiled blandly as he lit up and inhaled the rich smoke. 'I'm not sure how he'd feel knowing
that I have my Bloodtraitor-paws on one of his finest.' He said.

'I'm sure he would not mind, now that you have … reformed.' Lucius said leadingly.

There was something in the way Malfoy stressed the last word that made Sirius uneasy. But he
kept the smile in place as he replied. 'You're right.' And then he arranged his face into a more
sombre expression and he continued, 'I only wish I could have come to my senses sooner. It is quite
upsetting to know he died thinking both his sons had abandoned him.'

'What did change your mind Black?' Malfoy asked suddenly. 'I have to admit when Narcissa told
me you were back on speaking terms with your Mother, and trying to fill the role of heir I was
hesitant to believe it.'

'There were a few reasons.' Sirius said, playing for time. He wasn't sure of the best approach. Being
talked round by a woman, no matter how well-born was likely to raise Malfoys suspicions, he
knew Sirius's reputation. But the death of his brother … well Malfoy was sure to know about that.

'I had been thinking about it a lot.' Sirius began, 'This war, it makes you consider what is really
important. I met Hermione last summer and she wouldn't give me the time of day because I was a
Bloodtraitor, she was the only witch I'd met in a long time that held any interest. Then I found out
that Regulus had deserted.' He paused for effect, watching Malfoy's face.

'I didn't think that would bother you Black,' Malfoy said shrewdly.

'Just because I don't agree with the cause, doesn't mean I agree with cowardice. I was a Gryffindor
after all.' The slight on his brother felt bitter on his tongue. Sorry Reg he thought.

Malfoy's pale eyes widened.

Sirius continued, 'I couldn't stand the thought of my family having no true heir. That wasn't how I
was raised. So Hermione convinced me I had to go back, and I did. I'm very grateful my mother has
been so accepting, and you and Narcissa, Lucius. I was afraid I would be cast out for ever.' Merlin
Sirius thought he was going to vomit. He took another pull on the cigar.

Malfoy took a minute to reply. 'Good for you Black.' he finally said, 'So … Hermione Fehr, I can
understand why you were so interested. It is usual to meet a high-born witch with such a broad
understanding of the world.'

'You forget who her family is,' Sirius said, taping his cigar on the ashtray lip, 'they've run
Switzerland since the Confederacy in the fourteen hundreds. It would be unacceptable for her to
have less knowledge than she does. Although it does help that she is naturally intelligent.'

'That's a good point,' Malfoy said as he poured out two measures of Firewhiskey. Handing one to
Sirius he said, 'Well you're lucky she came around. There must be plenty of wizards chasing a prize
like that.

'Well Malfoy,' Sirius said conspiratorially, 'that was another reason I went to Mother. What man
could stand next to the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?' He raised his
eyebrow, 'Don't tell Hermione that though, she likes to think I'm very honourable.'

'Perhaps you're lucky she's foreign then.' Malfoy said with a chuckle, 'I'm sure most women would
have told her that you're less than honourable when it comes to the fairer sex.' He finished his
drink and reached for the decanter again.

Sirius laughed good-naturedly, 'Too true, a blessing indeed.' Holding his glass out to Malfoy for a
refill. He should probably slow down, he needed to keep its wits about him, and they had already
had several glasses of wine with dinner and whiskey with desert.

'So how are things with you? I'm not the only lucky man. Narcissa is as beautiful as ever.' Sirius
said inclining his head respectfully.

Malfoy let out a bawdy laugh, 'Watch out Black, I know what your family is like.'

Sirius took another sip of his drink and joined in the laughter, 'It was a compliment, and as we were
just saying – I'm taken anyway.'

Lucius nodded in recognition, and filled what had to have been his fifth or sixth glass since Sirius
and Hermione had arrived, 'So Black, how are the Aurors? Moody has you traipsing all around the
country last I heard. Any luck yet?'

Sirius couldn't quite believe that Malfoy would have the gall to bring up something like this, he
might be drunk but this was supposed to be a social visit. Sirius had to grit his teeth to stop himself
replying Super thanks. How are Voldemort's minions? 'Yeah' he said instead. 'We're not really
getting anywhere. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. But we must fight for what we believe in.' he
took a small sip in apparent despondency.

'That's a different response than I was expecting' Malfoy said. His eyes were slightly bloodshot. 'I
thought you Aurors were all for misleading the public.'

'I wish we weren't.' Sirius said, shaking his head regretfully, 'The Ministry are idiots for thinking
we can still win this. I'll keep fighting, but I know we'll pay in the end.'

Malfoy looked at him, apparently lost for words. 'I thought you Gryffindor fools never gave up,
bravery before brains and all that?'

'Now I never said I'd given up.' Sirius said sharply, 'I'll keep fighting, like I said, but I know we
will lose. People are frightened. The Aurors are complacent.' Sirius shook his head dejectedly, and
threw back the last of his drink. He wondered if this would work, he wanted Malfoy to boast of
Voldemort's strength, give Sirius some hint about how he knew he was strong, how Voldemort
trusted him. What Sirius got however, was something altogether more frightening.
'Black, you say you want to fill the role of heir,' Malfoy said slowly, 'do you plan to take on all of
Regulus duties? The House of Black is an old and pure line of course, do you not think it right to
protect that purity?'

Sirius filled his glass again to avoid answering. He was on dangerous ground here. You couldn't
just turn down an offer to join the Death Eaters.

'I had not considered it.' he said at length, 'I have fought for equality for too long I think to join the
Dark Lord now. Surely you don't have the power to offer such a thing anyway Lucius. I was under
the impression you had to be approved by the Dark Lord himself.'

As Malfoy filled his glass again, slopping a splash of Firewhiskey on the table between them,
Sirius checked the position of his wand.

'That is true,' Lucius said, 'you do have to be approved, but for one such as yourself, I'm sure there
would be no question; noble family, talented dualist – '

'Bloodtraitor' Sirius interrupted him. 'The Dark Lord does not seem to be the most forgiving of
employers. He couldn't possibly over look such an indiscretion – even if I do regret it greatly.'
Sirius sighed, 'Anyway I couldn't leave my post and an Auror, as I said before, I cannot condone
cowardice, and switching sides because we're losing seems cowardly to me.'

'You would not have to leave your job.' Lucius said, his tone becoming eager, mellowed as he was
by drink, 'There are many followers under Ministry employ, I could speak on your behalf, you
might need his approval, but I have his ear. He would listen to my recommendation.'

Sirius put his head down again, feigning hopelessness, while trying to hide the wide grin spreading
across his face. 'You have his ear?' Sirius asked quietly, 'But you are so young, I thought his most
favoured followers were the ones that had been with him from the beginning.'

'I have proved myself worthy.' Malfoy said, his words slurring.

'Well, I will think about it,' said Sirius, 'It is a tempting offer, I would like to be on the winning
team.' He poured Malfoy another drink and clinked his glass with his own untouched one. 'To
winning.' he said throwing it back and laughing, trying to break the slightly tense atmosphere. 'To
winning.' Malfoy echoed downing his own drink.

'You know Black,' He said, slurring worse than ever, 'I'm glad the wives are friends. I get awfully
sick of the same fools at every dinner.'

Sirius didn't bother to correct his mistake, instead he said, 'Yeah, this has been a great old time.
Never thought I'd be invited for dinner at Prefect Malfoy's place.'

Malfoy laughed and hiccoughed and then said, 'Merlin, you and your mate Potter gave us hell. I
was very relieved I only had to put up with two years of you.'

Sirius laughed, 'I'm glad to hear it, it was the whole point, after all.'

Malfoy just chuckled drunkenly. Sirius decided it was time to act, he was at the point now when
the drink would start affecting his own spell casting. 'Lucius, I'm just going to nip to the loo.' He
said, as he stood up. Malfoy waved him away as he took another cigar from the open box on the
table.

As soon as Sirius was out in the hall he made his way to the stairs and up to Narcissa's parlour, he
could hear giggling through the door as he approached and when he knocked Narcissa's tipsy voice
called, 'Enter if you dare!'

Sirius pushed open the door to find the two ladies seated rather comfortably, their shoes off and an
empty wine bottle on the table before them. 'Cissy, so sorry to barge in like this, but may I borrow
my lovely girl for a moment?' he asked.

'Only if it really is a moment,' Narcissa said sternly, 'we were just getting to the good stuff.'

To Sirius's absolute amusement, Hermione turned bright red at this statement and hurriedly got to
her feet to follow him out of the room.

'No hanky-panky.' Narcissa called after them, Sirius could hear the clinking and sloshing of a glass
being filled as he pulled the door closed.

'What?' Hermione said, 'Has something happened? God she can drink.' she added furiously. Her
cheeks were still flushed and her eyes slightly glassy as she looked at him.

'The good stuff eh?' He said, smirking down at her, his eyebrow raised.

'Oh shut it,' she said, 'I'm just playing the part. Now, what do you need?'

'Give me the fake.' Sirius said, 'Malfoy is close to passing out, I think.' He will be when I stun him.
Sirius thought. 'Then I'm going to look for the diary.'

She pulled the small black book from inside her purse. 'Good luck.' She said as she went back into
the parlour.

'You too.' he said, 'Cissy is quite the gossip. So …be kind, with the, er … good stuff.'

Hermione rolled her eyes at him as she closed the door. He tucked the diary into the inside pocket
of his jacket and hurried back to the library.

When Sirius entered through the large door behind the chairs he and Lucius had been sitting in,
Malfoy was examining his glass in the light, blowing smoke rings into the air. Sirius cast a silent
stunner at him and he sagged instantly, his cigar and whiskey dropping to the floor. Sirius hurried
to pick them up. He stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray and set the glass on the table.

Then Sirius turned his attention to the books. Surely this was the best place to hide the small,
nondescript diary. He cast a concealment detection charm, and was drawn immediately to a shelf
on the furthest wall, he started at the bottom methodically searching all the way to the top. The
concealment charm turned out to be in place to hide several magazines, ones filled with scantily-
clad witches. Interesting, but not what Sirius was looking for at the moment.

He cast the charm again, directing it at each of the shelves in turn, with no luck. Perhaps it wasn't
here after all. The shelves behind the large desk in the corner were the only ones left, he tried the
charm again – nothing.

He looked at the desk, there were three draws. Thinking it foolish not to check them Sirius opened
the top one – quills and a sharpening knife, a set of wax seals and a deadly looking letter opener
were the only contents.

Then the second, there were two black books inside, but neither was the diary. They were ledgers,
column after column filled with numbers and names. There was a small stack of opened letters, and
a silver hipflask.
The third draw was locked.

'Alohamora' Sirius whispered, it still didn't budge. Promising.

There was a keyhole next to the handle, so Sirius began to look for keys. He riffled through the
contents of the first two draws hoping that he'd just not noticed them the first time, but of course
they weren't there.

What idiot would keep the keys right next to the lock? So where would you keep them? Sirius
looked around the room, they could be anywhere, the whole house even. Then something gold
caught his eye, Malfoy's pocket watch chain. What kind of twat has a pocket watch in this day and
age? Sirius snickered to himself, as he moved toward the prone figure of Malfoy. He looped his
finger under the chain and pulled it from his pocket, it was just a watch. But it still seemed likely
that Malfoy would keep the key on his person.

Gritting his teeth, Sirius began to pat Malfoy down, listening for the tell-tale sound of jingling
keys. There it was, in his breast pocket, Sirius pulled them out and hurried back to the draw, there
were quite a few keys to try, he stuffed each one into the lock and jiggled it about but unfortunately
none of them would turn.

He huffed, annoyed. Although the draw held even more promise now. A lock with a hidden key?
That sounded rather Horcrux-esque to him.

Taking the useless key ring back to Malfoy, Sirius began to search again feeling around the
underside of the desk and the shelves in the library, he was starting to panic, it had been half an
hour now. Malfoy would notice if too much time had passed.

Sirius gave Malfoy another frisking, feeling as he did so the urge to punch the slimy bugger in the
family jewels. But he resisted. As he ran his hands under the heavy robe Malfoy wore he felt a little
bump in the man's waistcoat pocket he fished his fingers into the narrow opening and retrieved a
tiny key. A key made of the same old bronze as the lock on the draw. Sirius rushed back across the
room and jammed the key into the hole next to the handle of the draw, it turned.

Opening the draw, thinking that the bloody Horcrux better bloody be in there, because he was not
happy that he'd had to molest Malfoy – he was disappointed. There were a few sheets of parchment
and nothing more. Sirius pulled them out just to make sure and his finger caught on the edge of
something. On closer inspection he realised the draw had a fake bottom. He slid it and lifted it
away, and then, his heart stopped.

There it was, the Horcrux. Looking for all the world like a little black diary.

He snatched it out, pulled the Hermione-diary from his pocket and dropped it into the draw, then
he covered it with the false bottom. Tucking the real diary away in his pocket he set about putting
everything back the way it was. The parchment in the draw, and the contents of the other two
draws as well.

He tucked the key back in Malfoys waistcoat pocket, after he had locked the Horcrux draw. Then
he vanished the whiskey stain on the carpet and half-filled Malfoys glass. He put the cigar back
between Malfoys limp fingers and lit it.

Picking up his own drink and sitting down again Sirius said, ' enervate' and immediately began to
talk, '– so then we ran, and hid in that broom cupboard … you know the one … on the fourth floor?
Filch never did find us, but you lot smelled like dungbombs for days.' he laughed loudly, taking a
large gulp from his glass.
'Oh right' said Malfoy, slightly confused, he noticed the burning cigar in his hand, brought it to his
lips and took a puff. He seemed to be trying to pretend he hadn't dosed off. 'So that's the trick to
trouble making is it? Hiding? Thought Gryffindors' were supposed to be brave.' he said, shaking
his head dazedly.

'Brave doesn't quite cut it when you're twelve – and it comes to an angry Filch and his broom
handle. Got me full across the hand not to weeks later … when the broom cupboard wasn't quite
close enough. Broke half the bones. I'm lucky I can still use it.'

Malfoy laughed. 'Well I'm glad you got some punishment at least.' Sirius refilled his glass and held
the decanter out enticingly to Malfoy, who smiled and accepted the top up.

'I popped in on the ladies when I went to the loo, I'm afraid your wine cellar might be a little light in
the morning.'

Malfoy chuckled, 'As long as they're having a good time.' he said, he checked his twaty pocket-
watch. Sirius held his breath, he'd looked for the Horcrux for forty minutes, 'My word,' said
Malfoy, 'Look at the time, I've got a meeting in London quite early.'

'Say no more Malfoy,' Sirius said grinning, 'I'm already dreading Moody's briefing, seven thirty!
Why in merlin's name he thinks any of us are listening at seven thirty in the bloody morning I'll
never know. And with a head full of your excellent whiskey? Well, tomorrow will not be a good
day.'

Malfoy smiled as he stood, staggering only slightly, 'Let's go and find these women then, shall we?'

'Narcissa,' Malfoy called as he knocked on the door to the parlour, they could still hear giggling
from within.

'Come in, Husband.' Narcissa trilled. 'Oh Hermione, aren't we so lucky to have such handsome
men?' Narcissa said, rising to greet her husband. Sirius was impressed that she seemed quite steady
on her feet. She kissed Lucius on the cheek and said, 'Did you two have a nice chat?'

'We did,' Malfoy replied, smiling at his wife, 'and what about you two? We could hear the giggling
all the way down the corridor.'

'Oh yes.' said Narcissa. 'We must do this again soon. Lovely to have someone interesting to talk to.'
She grinned at Hermione.

'Hermione, it's time we were going.' Sirius said, offering her a hand to help her up. She didn't seem
to have quite the tolerance Narcissa did and she held his had firmly as she stood, Sirius glanced at
her feet, high heels. Not good.

But she surprised him, a deep breath was all it seemed to take, 'Thank you so much for a wonderful
time Narcissa. And you Lucius. We should make it a regular event.' Still holding Sirius's hand
tightly, she gave Narcissa a one armed hug, and Malfoy shook Sirius free hand.

The walk down through the house was a bit blurry for Sirius. He had snaked his arm around
Hermione's waist to help her down the many staircases in those unfortunately wobbly shoes. But
he really wasn't that much better off. He had an odd flashing moment of Moody in his mind,
Drunk, Black? In a Death Eaters house? I knew you were an idiot, but this is ridiculous! Sirius
laughed under his breath at the thought.

'What's funny?' Hermione asked quietly.

'I tell you later.' Sirius said, still chortling.

They finally bid farewell to the Malfoys in the entrance hall, and started the long trek down the
drive toward the front gate.

'Are you alright?' Sirius asked, as Hermione leaned more heavily on him as they walked.

'Fine,' she said. 'Just a bit unsteady, these shoes are a death trap on a flat surface, let alone gravel.'

Sirius laughed softly, it was a nice feeling, her there, right next to him, leaning on him, her arm
wrapped securely around his waist. He tightened his grip on her. They reached the gates which
opened at their approach.

'Are you alright to apparate?' she asked him, as the cast-iron clanged together behind them.

'Yeah, no problem,' He said, 'but you should hold on tight, it's not fun when you're squiffy.'

Hermione actually giggled as he pulled her flush against his chest, her arms going around him
under his jacket, Sirius shook his head trying to clear it as her hands moved over the fabric of his
shirt, trying to get a firm grip.

She smiled up at him, 'Ready.' she said, her eyes were slightly hooded as she looked at him, he
didn't seem to be able to look away.

He put his other arm around her and then, before he could stop himself, he was leaning closer.

Her smile faltered as he brushed his lips against hers, but she didn't pull away. His hand trailed up
her back coming to rest at on the side of her neck, his thumb at the edge of her jaw, his fingers in
her hair. He tilted her head back and increased the pressure of lips his other hand drawing her even
closer to him, his tongue darting out to trace her lower lip. A little sigh escaped her and her lips
parted, the tiny noise was enough encouragement for him. He could taste the wine on her breath as
he deepened the kiss, then there were hands on his chest, pushing. He pulled back, Hermione
turned her face away.

'What?' he said breathlessly. Trying to meet her eyes.

'This is a bad idea' she said.

'I think I'll have to disagree with you there.' he said, kissing her cheek since she still wouldn't look
at him. 'We got another Horcrux, what better way is there to celebrate than a drunken snog?'

This got her attention, 'You got it?' She hit him hard with the hand still resting on his chest. 'Why
didn't you tell me?'

'You were occupied telling Narcissa all the good stuff, and drinking half their wine cellar.'

Hermione blushed. 'Sorry. But wow, and the fake? How did you get it? Well done!' She threw her
arms around his waist again 'Brilliant, Sirius.'

He laughed. 'See, didn't I deserve a kiss for that?'

'I guess.' she said, amused.

He lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers again. She pulled back quickly this time. 'Hey,'
he said. 'That was for the locket. If I'm getting reward kisses you should too.'
Reward kisses? Merlin he was glad it was dark enough to hide the colour in his face. He just
wanted to kiss her. Was that so terrible?

It probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done but it didn't feel wrong. In fact, he was
wondering why he'd never done it before. It was just the alcohol he told himself. You have a girl
hanging off you and you're drunk, it's a reflex action. His mind was whirling, trying to give him
some reason for the way his blood was pulsing in his ears.

A girl who you spend all your time with … a girl who always makes you feel better, who's not
scared to tell you off … who never makes you feel ashamed for being afraid – who you let know
you're afraid … Fuck …Fuck, this was not good.

Why hadn't he realised before? A girl who's leaving in twelve weeks … A girl who has a whole
other life, and a boyfriend, and who knows you as an old man. Merlin. No wonder she didn't want
to kiss him.

'Right, well. … let's go shall we?' Sirius said gruffly. Without waiting for an answer, he held onto
her tightly and turned on the spot.

She staggered away from him when they landed on her balcony. 'For goodness sake Sirius.' she
snapped, 'A bit of warning would be nice.' She said, holding on to the rail to steady herself.

'Sorry,' he said, his chest felt tight as he looked at her. What the hell was he meant to do?

She didn't seem to notice his discomfort as she opened the door and said, 'I don't know about you,
but I could do with a cup of tea.'

'Sure.' he said, 'Put the kettle on, I'm just going to have a fag.'

He stood there, breathing in the wonderful calming poison, arguing with himself. Just ignore it.
The voice in his head said. He knew she was leaving, and it wasn't like he couldn't find someone
else. Just ignore it. They had just been spending so much time together, all this Horcrux stuff, it
was like a weird dream. The rest of the world seemed less important while they worked on
something so important, and he was her only friend here. He really didn't want to fuck that up. It
was only twelve more weeks. Just ignore it.

'Tea's ready.' Hermione's lovely voice called from inside. Ignore it. He growled at himself.
 A Werewolf's Opinion

6th August

Hermione was waiting for Sirius to get the news. Marlene Mackinnon, her brother and his two
children had been murdered while he was in Northern Ireland. Sirius had been out of touch with
everyone for nine days. First with the mission and then he'd spent the whole day with Hermione
yesterday getting clothes and preparing for their dinner at the Malfoys that evening.

She couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. Beside the hangover and general lack of sleep, caused
by confusion over Sirius weird kissy behaviour outside the gate at Malfoy Manor last night, she
was stuck with that feeling of guilt again. She had known the MacKinnons were going to die. It
didn't matter how often she told herself that for the plan to work, the natural order had to be kept.
The bloody plan. How she hated it.

It was eight thirty, Sirius would be at work now. Moody would have told him, and soon he would
get a letter from Lily thanking him for Harry's birthday broom.

Hermione tried to force her brain to think of positive things, or at least things she had control over
as she lay there, 'Three Horcruxes down.' she muttered aloud. They were right on track. She
couldn't quite believe it. Just the cup to go. And some Fiendfyre practice with Dumbledore. That
would be fun. She'd never had a lesson from him before. She was very pleased with the way they
were progressing.

There was a little niggle in her mind about Sirius, she may have been drunk but she could
remember quite clearly how it had felt when he kissed her. She was just lonely she told herself.
Ron hadn't kissed her like that in a long time, she knew she shouldn't have let it happen, but she had
forgotten how wonderful it was to be held close like that, and it had thrown her slightly.

But it didn't mean anything. This was a totally bizarre situation. It was hard to spend so much time
in someone's company, especially for her, as Sirius was her only company and not feel close to
them. And besides, for him, what was one little kiss? It was probably no different than all the ones
in front of his family.

Sure, there had be no one around to see, but he was drunk too, and feeling very proud of himself for
getting the diary. He'd even said that 'a drunken snog is the best way to celebrate.' So she shouldn't
worry. It was probably best if she didn't let it happen again though. Not that Sirius would want to
of course.

She cringed as she thought of going home and having the older Sirius know that he'd kissed her.
She wasn't that worried about Ron though, he was the one she loved. She was doing this to get him
his life back. Ron would probably get jealous over the fact that she and Sirius had held hands. But
he was never going to know that she'd even been to the past. So it was pointless to worry.

When there was a tapping at the window that evening Hermione felt her stomach drop. She had
never wanted to talk to Sirius less than she did tonight. She knew he was good friends with Marlene
and she was sure he was going to be guilt-ridden that he didn't know she'd been dead for a week.

Sure enough, when she pulled the curtain Sirius face was sombre, his eyes downcast.

'Hello.' she said trying to act like she didn't know. He had no idea about her list of dead people. It
would be too tempting for him. 'Do you want tea?'

He met her eyes, 'Did you know?' He asked immediately.

'Did I know what? Sirius what's happened?' She felt terrible, but it would only make it worse if she
told the truth.

'The MacKinnon's, Marlene and her family, they …' he cleared his throat, 'They were killed on the
day I left with Frank. I had no idea, Moody just told me today'.

'That's terrible.' Hermione said, patting his arm consolingly. 'I'm so sorry. It's not long now.' she
said. 'Then it will be over.'

He took a deep breath, 'I know. Wish we could just stop them now. I hate it. I'm so pissed at
James.' he said taking a seat at the small dining table, 'I talked to him every bloody day and he
didn't tell me.'

'He probably didn't want you to worry.' She said as she went to the kitchen to organise the tea.

'But still, I mean, Marlene was awesome – nearly killed James with a bludger to the head in his first
ever Quidditch match. She was a few years above us. Brilliant bird,' he said, with a soft chuckle. 'I
just sort of think … I dunno, I wish I'd been here, that I could have gone with the others to help.' He
shrugged. 'Just feel useless I guess.'

Hermione didn't say anything as she brought the tray to the table and poured him a cup of tea, then,
with one for herself she sat down. She really couldn't comment on this, every consoling word she
thought of sounded fake. They were silent for a while drinking their tea, Hermione, trying to drown
the guilt inside her with the hot liquid, Sirius no doubt worrying over things he couldn't have done
anything about.

As Hermione filled their cups again however, he surprised her, 'I got a letter form Lily today,' he
said in quite a normal tone. 'Harry loves his broom.' Sirius gave a small smile. 'I can't wait to see
him in action.' A faraway, glazed look came over his face, his eyes unfocused. Then suddenly he
said, 'There is something weird though, Lily said Dumbledore was friends with Gellert
Grindelwald. You know, he defeated him, in like, forty four or forty five. He's a really evil bloke.
Do you know anything about that?'

Hermione was so glad for the change of subject. Would it hurt to tell Sirius the truth about this
now? She had promised to tell him after all. What about the Hallows? She thought, she could leave
them out of the story she reasoned. 'I know quite a lot about that actually.' she said.

'Why am I not surprised?' Sirius gave her a warm smile. 'You know everything.' he added by way
of explanation.

'I wish.' she said. 'But I do know about this. Remember that night, when I told you about the
Horcruxes? I said that Dumbledore had secrets – this is what I meant.'

'It's true? Lily seemed to think it was just one of those weird stories.'

'Yes it's true,' Hermione said, trying to get the story in order before she began to speak. 'When
Dumbledore had just finished Hogwarts, his mother died, his father was gone too. And he had
Aberforth and his little sister Arianna still at home, so he moved home and looked after them. His
little sister had been in an accident and was a terrible risk to herself and others magically. She was
like a squib most of the time but if she got upset, her magic would burst out of her, and she had no
control over who it hurt. So he had to keep her calm. Of course in those days any risk to the
muggles finding out about magic was hushed up, locked away, so she was kept a secret.'

'It's not that different at the moment.' Sirius grumbled. 'Squibs are being targeted more and more.
It's so unfair, I mean, not that anyone should be targeted at all, but at least muggleborns can fight
back.'

'Yes,' Hermione said. 'I wonder sometimes if they have it the worst. Muggleborns have the fear
because they know what's going on, but like you say, they can protect themselves. And muggles
live in ignorance of all the terror. So they might be doomed but at least they don't know it. But
squibs? They are aware of Riddle – and the danger, but can't do a thing about it. It must be
terrifying for them.'

'Hallowe'en can't get here soon enough.' Sirius said, looking disheartened. 'So what does
Dumbledore's sister have to do with Grindelwald?'

'Well, it seems as though Dumbledore was unsatisfied with being in such a situation, he was
brilliant, he should have been out changing the world but instead he was trapped at home being a
housewife at the age of seventeen.'

'That doesn't sound like the Dumbledore I know. He'd do anything to protect the innocent.'

'That's what we thought too. As I understand it everything was fine until Bathilda Bagshot – that's
Lily and James neighbour and the historian – until her nephew came to stay for the summer.'

Comprehension dawned on Sirius face. 'Her nephew was –'

'Yes,' Hermione said 'Gellert Grindelwald. He was the same age as Dumbledore and they became
good friends. Dumbledore never mentioned it but from what Harry says, they were a lot more than
friends. And they were both as clever as each other.'

Hermione wasn't sure how Sirius would take the news that Dumbledore was gay, but she didn't
think he'd mind, Sirius seemed to flirt with anyone, male or female, so it shouldn't have been a
foreign a concept to him. Also, it was rather over shadowed by the boyfriend himself. A young
man that turned out to be the most feared villain of his generation.

'Wasn't he evil yet? I can't imagine Dumbledore putting up with someone as bigoted as
Grindelwald, no matter how strapped for company he was.' Sirius asked, not even blinking and eye
at gender of Dumbledore's friend, just astounded that he would choose someone with such an
obvious lack of scruples.

'I know Grindelwald wanted to rule even then.' Hermione continued, 'But in finding an ally and
love in Albus he kept his most sinister plans to himself, they were obsessed with leading a
revolution. A new era for magic, so that witches and wizards wouldn't have to hide anymore.
Dumbledore, blinded by his love for the boy, only thought of his sister, and how she wouldn't have
to be kept quiet. If there was no Statute of Secrecy, she wouldn't be a danger to it, and they could
live normal lives. But it ended terribly. Aberforth got into a fight with Grindelwald and Albus tried
to break it up but Arianna got in the way. At his death Albus still didn't know if it was he, or his
brother or Gellert that had cast the spell that killed her.'

'Merlin,' muttered Sirius looking flabbergasted. 'The poor girl, how did Dumbledore react when
you found all this out?'

'He was already dead by then. We only learnt it in the last few months of the Horcrux hunt. His
brother told us.'
'Ab? He doesn't seem the type for gossip – goat's maybe,' Sirius added with a snicker, 'but not
gossip.'

'Yes, well,' said Hermione. 'It's true. That's why Dumbledore has spent his whole life fighting for
muggle rights. Guilt. He is trying to make up for that terrible summer.'

Sirius was quiet again for a while. Hermione drank her tea, thinking how difficult all this must be
for him. Whenever he finally thought he'd got a handle on what's going on, she threw another huge
lump of unpleasant information at him.

'Hermione?' he said, in yet another strange change of tone and topic, 'I really want to tell Moony
what we're doing. We're only one Horcrux away, you know he's trustworthy, please? I feel so bad
lying to him. It's bad enough with James, but he'll understand why after. But Moony won't, he'll
just think I didn't trust him.' he reached out and took her hand. 'We're getting close to the end. I
want to be able to tell him. Please?'

Hermione considered this, Sirius was right. Remus was trustworthy and he had a good logical brain
– he might be very helpful. She also knew that Sirius was avoiding his friends so that he wouldn't
have to tell them more lies. This way, at least he would have someone to talk to other than her, and
so would she.

Even if she'd thought it was a bad idea she didn't think she would have been able to say no. His
pleading expression tugged at her. 'Okay,' she said, 'do you want me there? Or do you think it's
better if it comes from you?'

'From me,' Sirius said at once, his face lighting up. 'It's the right thing to do you know. Moony will
be amazed, you better have your answers ready, he'll have thousands of questions about the
Timeturner, and the future.' He looked down and saw he was still holding on to her hand. He
snatched his back quickly.

She gave him a questioning look, and to her great confusion, his cheeks began to heat up. She
pretended not to notice, pouring another cup of tea. What was going on with him? It wasn't like
they hadn't held hands before, they'd done it often in fact. At his mothers, on the disastrous Order
mission, whenever he'd needed comfort. It was a friendly gesture. It helped them through.

He was probably just being careful after the mishap at the Malfoy's gate last night, Hermione
thought. He wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea. She also wondered if he was seeing anyone,
she knew from her own time that Sirius had spent his youth jumping from bed to bed, perhaps it
seemed strange to hold your friends hand if you were interested in someone else. They didn't really
talk about things like that though. She felt slightly awkward at the thought of asking him. It was
his business not hers. Maybe she could ask Remus next time she saw him.

'So when will you tell Remus?' she asked as she emptied the teapot into Sirius's cup.

'I'm going to see him tonight.' Sirius said looking pleased once more.

She looked at him shrewdly, 'Anyone would think you planned this, you know.'

He grinned back. 'You know us Blacks Miss Fehr,' he said cheekily, 'we're nothing if not crafty.'

Sirius could not believe how bloody brilliant it felt to have Remus know the truth. Sure, when he'd
first told him at the pub that night his friend had thought he'd gone insane. But after they'd gone
back to Sirius's flat and talked about it for four more hours, (Sirius greatly regretted his decision to
tell Remus, the most paranoid person he knew, on a work night – especially after the week he'd
had) His werewolf friend had finally believed him.

Remus was surprisingly accepting of the lies he'd been told, and really just seemed to be glad to
know what had been going on with Sirius for the last couple of months.

If Hermione had thought Sirius's anger when he'd learnt of Pettigrew's behaviour was bad, he was
awfully grateful that he had told Moony without her. Remus lost his temper completely, to the
point that Sirius had needed to conjure ropes around his wrists and ankles to stop the irate werewolf
leaving the flat and going straight to the traitors' house.

This reaction from the usually calm Remus may have been caused by the delivery of information,
Sirius had realised after the fact. Unlike when Hermione had told Sirius, with it all the facts laid
out in order to prevent him having a panic attack, Sirius did not have such foresight. When he'd
blurted out, 'And Pettigrew is a spy, and is going to get James killed if we don't succeed' all hell
broke loose.

But he'd got there in the end, and now he had Moony on his side. So when Hermione was gone,
and he had to tell James and Lily what they'd done, he'd have back up.

He'd also told Remus about the ridiculous situation he'd got himself into with the kissing debacle
the night before. Moony of course being the most understanding of his friends, seemed to grasp the
problem immediately.

'So Pads,' he said, irony creeping into his tone, 'You spend every evening with this girl, you've
been in a situation where she literally saved your life – not only that, but she's here to prevent –
among other things – you spending the rest of your life in prison, and you've been pretending to be
her boyfriend every other day. Is it any wonder you confused little brain can't cope?'

'Was little really necessary?' Sirius asked, draining the last of his Butterbeer.

'Probably not,' Remus said with a grin, 'but Padfoot, are you really that surprised? It wouldn't
surprise me if it was just withdrawals.'

Sirius chucked his empty bottle at him. Why had he thought Remus was understanding again?
'Now that's just mean Moony.' He crossed his arms and looked away, probably looking like a
petulant child, but he didn't care. 'It's only been two months, I can handle two months.'

'Well,' Remus said pleasantly, easily dodging the glass missile, 'you're either confused from lack of
other female company, or you do like her – and in both cases it doesn't matter because she's leaving
in twelve weeks and then we're going to watch her grow up.' He crinkled his brow and added,
'Which, if you ask me, and you did, makes this whole conversation decidedly creepy. So you
actually were right. Ignore it. Or, go find some girl like you used to.'

Sirius looked at him in shock, 'Okay Moony, now I'm worried, you hate that I do that.'

'Well, once more won't hurt the collective female psyche.' Remus said, 'And you're my friend, one
more girl cast aside the morning after for the restoration of your sanity? It's a sacrifice I'm willing
to make.'

'Thanks for the fucking brilliant advice mate.' Sirius said, as he crushed out his cigarette.

Remus laughed 'Sorry but it's the truth. It can't go anywhere, so why bother? You'll just end up
more depressed – not to mention a creepy old man when you meet eleven-year-old her.'

'I'm not depressed.' Sirius grumbled, 'I'm just confused.'

'Sorry mate, best I can do.' Remus said with an apologetic look, 'So, you know I have like, a million
questions for her. Can I come with you to visit her one evening? Since … you know … you go
there … every bloody day.' He asked barely concealing his smirk.

'Shut up,' Sirius said automatically, 'and yes, I warned her to be prepared. She'll probably have a big
highlighted list with graphs and shit for you.' Sirius chuckled, 'That reminds me, you didn't shag a
dental student the winter after we left school did you?'

'Er … not that I know of?' Remus said, obviously confused and taken aback at such an abrupt
change of subject.

Sirius dissolved into laughter, 'I keep telling her she's the girl version of you. It made me wonder if
she really is, she was born in '79, so really …' he trailed off.

Remus's eyes widened, 'Bloody hell Padfoot.' He said, laughing too. 'Way to make a guy paranoid
… I don't think I did … how do you know if someone is a dental student?' He sounded genuinely
concerned.

'I dunno … really nice teeth?' Sirius dodged to the side as his empty bottle came flying back across
the room at him.
 Increasing the Ranks

8th August

Remus was nervous when he arrived at Sirius's upstairs flat on Saturday afternoon. He thought that
he didn't really have a reason to be, he'd met the girl before after all, and she had seemed perfectly
pleasant. It was also good to know that she was aware of the werewolf factor, and quite obviously
thought nothing of it. Perhaps things were better in the future.

Remus knocked on the door and called, 'Padfoot, it's me are you ready to go?' He almost jumped
out of his skin when his friend's low voice replied immediately; he'd apparently been standing on
the other side of the door waiting for Remus to arrive.

'Translate this.' Sirius said, without a trace of his usual humour. A piece of parchment slid out from
the post slot in the door as he spoke.

Remus took it and turned it over, It was covered in runes, at least fifteen of them. 'Padfoot?'

'Do it.' His friend said bluntly.

Remus ran his eyes across the squiggly symbols, not quite sure whether he should take Sirius
seriously, 'You do realise anyone who knows runes could work this out?'

'There's another part.' Sirius said, sounding impatient, 'Hurry up.'

While Remus was glad that Sirius was taking identity proof seriously for once, this seemed rather
extreme, even to Remus. But he understood, Sirius was showing him to Hermione's hiding place,
the was no such thing as too cautious where her safety (and their futures) were concerned. So he set
to work, 'Um … Padfoot?' He asked, 'Do you have a quill?'

There was an annoyed huff, and footsteps stomping away from the door. Then they returned and a
feather was pushed out through the hole. 'Thanks.' Remus said. After five minutes he started to
laugh. The runes asked a question; "Who was your first kiss?" Or the exact translation was "foreign
mouth on yours, original, the possessor was?" But understanding runes was always sort of a
guessing game.

'Mary Macdonald, in sixth year.' Remus said promptly.

'No.' Sirius said.

Remus laughed again. 'Oh right,' he said. 'Just for future reference – I don't count Prongs. I thought
you meant the first kiss I got that I actually wanted. I still think you planned that whole bloody
thing anyway. You brewed the love potion for him to give to Lily. Then you accidentally put it in
his pumpkin juice at breakfast, and – for some reason you still won't explain – It made him want
me instead.'

Sirius was chuckling on the other side of the door.

'This wasn't going to be my question,' Remus said, feeling a bit hot in the face from the
embarrassing memory, 'but because I'm a little worried, it will do – you can't read runes to save
your life, who did you get to do this for you?'

'Who else Moony?' Sirius asked with a sigh of affable exasperation, 'The girl version of you, or as I
like to think of her now, your long lost daughter.'

Remus grinned, his friend seemed to have returned to his normal irritating self.

When Remus opened his eyes after the apparition, his breath, that he had only just regained, was
taken from him by a strong wind. He realised as he looked around that they were on a balcony in
central London. It was quite narrow with a steel railing surrounding all three sides. Sirius was
knocking on a set of French doors that were the only access to the little concrete perch.

The curtains were drawn back almost immediately to reveal the time traveller, her curly hair was
back in a ponytail and she was smiling happily in greeting at them. 'Filius Flitwick fancies finding
Fanged Frisbees.' she said through the glass.

'Severus Snape scurries scared seeing shampoo.' Sirius replied.

Remus chuckled to himself. Those overly alliterate pass phrases might be a lot more ridiculous
sounding, but the Marauders question and answer routine was getting more and more over the top
as they struggled to find questions only they would know the answer to.

They had started it two years ago, after Ewan MacFusty had been killed by a Death Eater in a
polyjuice disguise of his wife, who had been looking for access to the dragon wranglers keep. And
it did work, it kept them safe, and it was always a reason to have a laugh, something that was often
forgotten in times such as these.

Hermione opened the door, 'Remus, I'm so glad you came.' she said earnestly. 'I hope you're not too
angry with me.'

'Not at all,' he grinned, 'quite confused and ridiculously impressed, but really just happy to be
included. I do have a few questions though, if you wouldn't mind.'

'Of course!' she said enthusiastically. 'Come in, I'll put the kettle on.'

Sirius cleared his throat pointedly and she looked at him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. 'Hi,' he
said, frowning at her, 'Nice to see you too.'

'Hi,' she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, 'don't worry sad-sack, I got more blue ones.'
Sirius seemed to brighten at this cryptic statement.

'I have some notes for you to look at Remus,' she said as she went back inside to start the tea,
'they're there, on the table –' she pointed at a folder that was holding enough pages for it to be a
detailed account of Nicolas Flamel's life.

'– I mean,' she continued in the same breath, 'obviously there are some things I can't tell you, but
you'll get a good understanding of what we're up to, and the reasons behind it. There is a table of
contents at the front if there's something you're specifically interested in. I'm just so glad you know
what's really going on. I'd really like your opinion on a few things and –'

She stopped mid flow, Remus could feel his mouth hanging open, and when he turned to look at
Sirius, he saw his friend had his back to them, his shoulders shaking slightly in an effort to keep his
laughter silent.

'I'll just make us a drink shall I?' she said, seeming a little embarrassed.

Remus lifted the cover of the folder, totally astounded at the woman's enthusiasm. He flicked
through the pages of tidy handwriting, impressed by the detail she had gone into. When he found
his voice he said, 'This was a good idea, did you find it useful Padfoot?'

Sirius looked at him, still suffering from trying to keep his mirth under control. 'I didn't get a
sodding folder mate, that's a Moony special. You forget, she knows us. I got wine and whiskey, not
to mention the mother of all hangovers, and you get a book. No doubt she thought you'd actually
appreciate it.'

Remus was quite flattered, she'd gone to so much effort. He really did appreciate it. 'Thank you
Hermione, this is really great.' Remus said as she bought the tea tray to the table.

'No problem.' she replied. 'I get pretty bored during the day, so since Sirius said he was going to tell
you on Thursday, I spent yesterday putting that together for you. I have to admit I was concerned
that he might not present the situation in the most, er … logical fashion, and the Remus I know,
well he'd like all the facts, rather than just the ones Sirius deemed relevant.'

'Okay,' Remus laughed nervously, 'it's totally messed up that you know me so well, but you're
right. You really did all this in one day?' he asked, turning the first few pages again.

'I've been keeping records of everything we've done so far so I just copied those for you, and the
war history at the beginning I already had, but otherwise yes.' Then she smiled at him. 'To be
honest I couldn't think of a better way to spend my time.'

Sirius took a seat at the table with them, coughing something that sounded a lot like, "Dental
student."

Remus punched him in the upper arm. Sirius scowled at him and then started to laugh. 'So
Hermione,' he said, 'No graphs for Moony? Didn't you think he'd need pictures like I did?'

'They weren't pictures, they were, as you said, graphs; an illustrative way to show numerical data,
useful and easy to remember.' Hermione gave Sirius a slightly haughty look and added, 'And yes I
put them in there.'

'You do realise we've lost him now.' Sirius said, in a tone of mock sorrow as he looked at Remus;
he was already totally immersed in the collection of information and didn't respond. Sirius always
thought he was deaf while reading, but he wasn't. It was just a convenient excuse to ignore his
overly chatty friend sometimes, and the notes were very well written.

An hour later Remus was still reading. He'd moved to the sofa, his feet were propped up on the
armrest, a cushion behind his head. There was a cup of tea on the coffee table beside him, he was
quite content. Hermione and Sirius were playing exploding snap at the dining table, laughing every
time the cards decided the game was getting boring and blew up. Seemingly, always when it was
Sirius's turn.

Remus was fascinated. The things Hermione had done, and with Harry. Baby Harry was a hero. He
was almost able to put aside the niggling fear about the dangerous mission his friend and
Hermione were on as he read. But when he got to the final stage of the plan, Fiendfyre and
Ambush, he felt it return in full measure.

'Um… Hermione?' He was hesitant about questioning her work, she was obviously very organised,
and had everything planned out to the last detail. Would she react badly to his input? It wasn't like
he would ever do anything like she had. Breaking the law and risking her life just to save her
friends, well, he would risk his life for his friends, after everything they'd done for him, how could
he not? But her mission seemed to him to be a whole other level of devotion. What right did he
have to suggest things to her?

'SNAP!' Sirius said triumphantly before the pile of cards promptly blew up in his face. Hermione
laughed as she got up from the table to come and lean over the back of the sofa, looking down at
Remus, worry in her eyes, 'What did I miss?' she asked.

'Oh … um,' he stuttered, surprised that she was so sure he'd found an error. 'No … nothing, I just
wondered, the ambush, do you think it's going to be quite … er, risky?' To his great astonishment,
Hermione's worried expression dissolved to one of guilt.

'I know.' she said quietly, 'But I can't think of another way. We know Riddle be there then, but
what if he gets the better of Dumbledore? And we can't warn Lily and James about any of this
because they'd never take that chance. To sit there waiting for him … they'd never do it. They'd
never use Peter. I really can't come up with anything else.'

'What are you two whispering about?' Sirius said, his hand chaffing at the singed hair on his
forearm from the explosion.

'Remus just pointed out that when Dumbledore ambushes Riddle if something goes wrong, well,
we will be quite legitimately fucked.'

Sirius stared wide-eyed as Hermione let out a sigh of exasperation, she plonked down in an arm
chair and hid her face in her hands. Then he turned his gaze on Remus. Remus was staring at her
too, he thought she might be annoyed at him for implying she'd overlooked something, but her
reaction didn't seem to fit. It was like she agreed.

'What the hell?' Sirius was glaring at him, 'She never swears,' he said quietly, 'what the fuck did
you say to her?'

'I, um …'Remus was worried he'd just made a huge social gaff. 'Just what she said, only less, er …
sweary? I'm sorry Hermione I didn't mean to upset you.' he said tentatively.

Her head snapped up, 'I'm not upset for goodness sake, I'm annoyed at myself. I know this is
dangerous but I've been ignoring it. I don't know how to make it safer for them, so I've just been
concentrating on the Horcruxes.' Then she fixed Sirius with a sharp look. 'I blame you, you know.'

'Me? Why?' Sirius said incredulously, 'We're going to cast the fyre, Dumbledore is going to get
Riddle. Of course it will be dangerous, what am I missing?'

'Common sense.' Hermione huffed. 'Honestly I think we could all fly half way around the world
with the frequent flyer miles yours has racked up. It goes on holiday so bloody often.'

Remus gave a quickly stifled laugh.

'Okay I'm guessing that was an insult. Probably deserved, but can you please tell me what the big
deal is?'

'Padfoot,' Remus said, 'it's just that what if Dumbledore is killed by Voldemort? Then Voldemort'll
go to Lily and James's and they won't be ready. And well …'

'I know.' Sirius said, 'But there's nothing we can do about that is there? It's like you said Hermione,
if we tell them about Peter they won't use him and we're fucked – if we warn them after he's been
made secret keeper they'll just go somewhere else, with a new one, and we're fucked – so we have
to hope that Dumbledore wins, and we're not fucked. Honestly, what can we do?'
'You could tell them that day.' Remus said, he was thinking out loud. 'Why don't you tell them on
Hallowe'en? Although, make sure you cast a shield charm first. Lily will string you up for putting
them at such a risk.' He was on his back on the sofa again, looking up at the ceiling thinking hard,
'If you told them right before you go to do the Fiendfyre, then they could be on their guard, but
they wouldn't have time to change anything … but they might still run … would Voldemort know
if they weren't there?'

'Brilliant.' Hermione's voice was muffled behind her hands, she lifted her head to look at him. 'I
knew we told you for a reason. But no, we won't have time. We'll be working through the night on
the containment charms at the Gaunt shack. They are so complicated, and have to be layered and
fresh. We also don't want too much magical disturbance in Godrics hollow, Riddle is attuned to
things like that.'

'Okay, but you said brilliant …'

'Oh right, so you can be there. Er … if you want to.' she said hesitantly, 'Sorry I'm just assuming
that you want to be involved in this. Knowing about it is one thing but …'

'Of course I want to.' Remus was a little insulted, 'So what, I just drop in for a visit and then at
sunset say, "Get ready Prongs, Voldemort is on the way?" Not sure that would go over to well.'

'No. I think it's best if they don't know, they might do something rash. But you would know, so you
can be on your guard, and make sure James picks up his bloody wand.'

'What do you think Padfoot?' Remus looked at Sirius, who was still standing watching the two of
them, a small amused smile on his face.

'Honestly? If you two reckon it's alright, then it's alright. And I want a drink, tt's Saturday.'

Hermione snorted.

'Sounds good to me.' Remus said, 'this is heavy stuff, awesome, but yeah, terrifying.'

'That it is mate.' Sirius said, 'That it is.'

In Sirius's opinion poker was the best use for a deck of exploding snap cards. There was something
frustratingly hilarious about being dealt a promising hand only to have it blow up before everyone
had placed their bets.

The game always became less about the hand and more about speed as every player rushed to
throw in their galleons, in the hope of making it through without blistered fingers. It also made
poker-faces pointless, you could tell who was sitting on a pair of threes because they always tried
to draw it out, finicking around, deciding how much they were willing to put in the pot. Thinking
that the more time they took, the more likely it was that their pitiful cards would go up in smoke.

So this childish, but enjoyable game, coupled with a large bottle of Ogden's finest and two of his
favourite people in the world had put Sirius in a very good mood.

'Call.' he said, as he laid his Queen-high flush on the table. The two frustrated sighs told him what
he already knew. Just as he reached across the table to scrape the pile of coins toward him, there
was a puff of smoke and the smell of burning fabric. He laughed as he watched Remus put the
flames on his sleeve out with a jet of water from his wand.

All three of them looked slightly worse for wear, singed cuffs, soot on their clothes and faces, pink
cheeked from the drink. It was close to nine in the evening now, they had been playing for nearly
two hours, happily talking about anything that didn't involve Riddle, soul fragments or friends that
they may, or may not be putting in a ridiculous amount of danger.

'You know Miss Fehr,' Sirius said smirking at Hermione across the table, 'when I told Malfoy you
were a shark at poker I didn't think it would be true.'

'I'm sorry?' she said, cupping a sarcastic hand to her ear, 'What was that? I couldn't hear you over
all this gold.'

Remus sniggered beside him, 'I think your rep as poker king has come crashing down Pads.'

'Oh well,' Sirius sighed, 'That's what the whiskey is for, it sooths my battered ego.'

Sirius refilled all their glasses while Remus shuffled the cards at top speed, trying to complete the
task before the inevitable explosion. Then they were interrupted by an insistent tapping on the
window. Sirius's owl was perched on the sill and pecking at the glass to get their attention. 'Zoff?'
Sirius got to his feet and let the dark grey bird in, he pulled the missive off his leg quickly and
unrolled it.

Sirius,

I have heard some distressing news. Come home as quickly as you are able.

Mother

'No reply,' he said to Zoff, whose pointy beak had been inching closer and closer to his wrist. The
bird seemed to raise an eyebrow, not that owls have eyebrows, and took off back out the window.
Sirius's face must have showed the trepidation he felt, because the atmosphere in the room became
thick all of a sudden.

'Who's it from? Is someone …' Remus's question hung in the air.

'Sirius?' Hermione asked at the same time, getting up and skirting the table to reach him, she put
her hand on his sooty forearm as she looked at the message.

'It's probably nothing' he said, trying to ease their worried expressions. 'Mother says she has heard
some distressing news. She wants me to go and talk to her.' Then he smiled ruefully, 'Whatever the
news is, I bet it's less distressing than the fact that I have to go and visit my mother. At least I'm
drunk.' he added with a chuckle. He wasn't really, but he was just at the wonderful stage when
everything was softened by the glorious warmth inside him. 'I might as well get it over with.
Hermione can I use some toothpaste? I might be in her good graces, but I doubt she'll want to tell
me her distress if she thinks I'm plastered.'

'Sure.' Hermione said, 'Do you want me to come? I'm not really dressed for it …'

'No, she asked for me. Mother doesn't play games. If she wanted you, she would have said.'

'Sirius, has is occurred to you that this might be a trap?' Remus asked, 'What if they've found out
about the Horcruxes?'

Trust paranoid Moony Sirius thought. 'Of course it occurred to me.' he said. It hadn't. He was too
busy trying to stop Hermione being so anxious, and her hand was still resting on his arm.

'Toothpaste.' he said breaking the contact and crossing the room. On entering the en-suite to
Hermione's bedroom, he splashed water on his face and scrubbed a toothpaste covered finger
around his mouth. He left the bathroom, running his now soot free hands through his damp hair.
'Presentable?' he asked with a grin.

Remus still looked uneasy and didn't reply.

Hermione said, 'Yes, much better, put this on though.' she shoved a jacket at him. 'You left it here
the other night.'

'Handy.' he said shrugging it on. It was the blazer he'd worn to dinner at the Malfoys.

'Take this too,' she handed him a playing card, 'just in case. Portus' she muttered tapping the Jack
of Spades with her wand, it glowed blue for a moment. 'It's set for an hour, just rip it up if you don't
need it. I already took the exploding jinx off it.'

'Thanks,' he said, smiling fondly down at her. She was so rational under pressure. Remus was
looking at him funny, the uneasy expression was gone and a smirk was tugging at the corner of his
mouth. Bloody wolf. 'You going to say here Moony? I won't be long. I need to win my gold back.'

'I admire that you can still hope.' Hermione said with a grin as Remus nodded.

'Yeah I'll stay. I still haven't finished reading my novel, and since I can't take it with me I want to
make sure I know all of it.'

'Good. I'll see you soon then, don't drink all the whiskey,' Sirius warned, 'I'll need some comfort
when I get back.'

'Sirius, thank you for getting here so quickly.' His mother said as he took a seat in her parlour.

He'd been quite surprised when Kreacher had brought him up here. He hadn't been allowed in this
room since he was ten. It was her private quarters. An extension of her dressing room, with only a
small round side table and two armchairs in front of the fireplace.

'I was worried, Mother.' Sirius said, taken aback that he really meant it. He fingered the Jack in his
pocket.

'So am I.' Walburga said, she was not as harsh as usual today, it was off-putting. 'I'm not going to
mince words here Sirius. Narcissa came to visit me this afternoon. She said you and Hermione had
dinner at Malfoy Manor this week.'

Sirius was confused, he thought his mother would be pleased about such a thing. 'We did.' He said.
'Hermione and Narcissa get along very well. I thought you would be happy.'

'It is not Hermione I am concerned about.' Walburga said, reaching out to nudge a gardenia back
into place in the large flower arrangement the sat in a vase on the little table between them, 'Sirius
you know as well as I do that Lucius is, involved. While I understand that you are making a great
effort to be accepted again after your …'

'Idiocy was how Ma M put it.' Sirius interjected with a tight smile, not liking where this was going.

'Yes well, you are obviously doing all to can to keep Miss Fehr happy, but Sirius you must be
careful. Are you …' she hesitated for a moment, 'Are you interested in the cause? Narcissa said
Lucius was impressed with you.'
'Mother … I,' Sirius wasn't sure what to say. If he denied it out right was there a chance it would
get back to the wrong ears?

'It is your life Sirius.' His mother said quietly, 'But you must think, after what happened to Regulus,
I thought that maybe with Hermione, you wouldn't want to risk … her family are not interested in
the cause. I had hoped that your … previous convictions, would stop you from becoming involved.'

'Mother,' Sirius said barely containing his sudden desire to smile, 'are you suggesting that you want
my Gryffindor nature to win out over family pride?'

Walburga sighed, 'As unpleasant and blasphemous at it is. Yes.'

'I have no desire to join the Death Eaters, Mother.' Sirius said, 'I would be a fool. I am an Auror,
the punishment for such treason would not be worth it.' He was careful to make it seem as though
the punishment was a deterrent, rather than the fact that he thought purebloods had no rights over
muggleborns. Then remembering Hermione's trump card he said, 'And what use would I be as an
heir if I go and get myself killed, or locked up, before I have even married?'

His mother seemed to relax, even going so far as to offer him a small smile. 'I didn't think you
would. But you have been so head strong all your life, I thought that with your desire to prove
yourself you might think joining was what your grandfather and I would want.' There was an
unusual feeling in Sirius's gut as his mother smiled at him. He was revolted when he realised it was
pleasure, happiness that his mother was worried about him. He shook himself mentally. Enough of
that he thought.

'There is something else too Sirius,' Walburga said, reaching for a small green box next to the
flower arrangement on the little table beside her. 'I wanted you to have this, you do not want to
leave things to chance with a woman like Miss Fehr.' she passed him the box. He lifted the lid and
saw a silver ring, an obscenely large diamond glittering in the centre, surrounded by a row of
emeralds.

'Mother.' Sirius said firmly, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, 'I have only been
seeing Hermione for three months. I hardly think it's appropriate –'

She cut him off. 'No harm in being prepared is there? Your grandfather said you should have that
anyway. It's the ring he gave to my mother.'

Sirius realised there was no point in arguing, he looked at the carriage clock on the mantle; five
minutes til the Jack would take him away if he didn't rip it up. 'Thank you,' he said. He didn't
despise the ring in any case, he liked his grandfather. 'I should be going.' he said, slipping the box
into his pocket.

'Won't you stay for nightcap? Your grandfather would like to see you.'

'I suppose. A quick one.' Sirius said. He just wanted to get back to Remus and Hermione. It was
rather unsettling being in his mother's company and not wanting to hex her.

'He's in the library, let us go and sample that deplorable homemade whiskey of his.'

As they walked down the stairs toward the library, Sirius fished the Jack of Spades from his
pocket. Before he could surreptitiously rip it in two, it began to glow. He hastily dropped it to the
floor, it wouldn't do to vanish and raise suspicion. The card disappeared. Why had Hermione told
him to tear it up? He just needed to not be touching it. Weird he thought. But then he realised, if it
was torn it wouldn't activate at all, therefore not causing a scene. His mother hadn't noticed – she
was a few stairs below him as they walked. He smiled. She had given him a family heirloom, it
wouldn't be long before he had access to the vault.

When Sirius knocked on the door of Hermione's hotel room two hours later he was surprised to see
that there was a bizarre flashing colourful light filling the otherwise darkened room. The curtains
were open, he moved to the edge of the glass to peer inside, it was the television he realised with
relief. He could see the back of Remus head over the top of the sofa and Hermione's bushy ponytail
on his shoulder. They didn't move at the sound of his knock. He repeated the action. Remus' head
jerked and he twisted to see where the noise was coming from.

His friend got up cautiously, Hermione's hair slipped out of view as her leaning post moved away.
When Remus came to the window he was yawning and rubbing a hand over his face and Sirius felt
his own forehead contract into a frown. They were asleep? Next to each other?

Remus grinned at him tiredly, Sirius wanted to punch him. Probably not a good idea – you're
ignoring it. He thought. 'Padfoot, what was your punishment for calling Professor McGonagall
"Minnie" to her face during Transfiguration in fifth year?' Remus asked through the glass of the
door.

'I had to help her mark all the first year essays for the rest of the term,' Sirius replied. A reluctant
grin trying to make an appearance as he said, 'But I wore her down in the end.'

'That you did.' said Remus, his own smile broadening.

Sirius was casting around for something to ask, he usually had time to prepare – and he had
expected them to be up waiting for him. Not cuddling on the sodding couch together. 'What was
the first thing Prongs said to you when you told us you had been made prefect?' Very fitting Sirius
thought.

'No scamming on my girl.' Remus laughed, 'He was so pissed I'd get to spend time with Lily and
that she would have to talk to me.' He tapped the door with his wand and tried to pull it open. 'Pads
what spell does she use to lock this?' He tapped again turning the handle. It still wouldn't move.

'I don't know.' Sirius said, 'Why don't you ask her? Or would you rather I just go?' the sharpness of
his tone surprised him. Too much of Pollux's whiskey no doubt.

'Sirius? Why would I –' he looked over at the sofa and it seemed to dawn on him how the situation
looked. 'Don't be wanker Padfoot.' His eyes narrowed. 'We were watching telly, you were gone for
ages, and we fell asleep. I'm not that much of a dick you know.'

Sirius felt guilty at once. Of course Moony wasn't a dick. 'Sorry mate.' he muttered through the
glass. 'Wake her up, otherwise you're trapped in there and I'll really start to wonder.' he said, trying
to make a joke out of it. Merlin he was glad Hermione hadn't heard any of this.

Remus left the door to wake her, Sirius couldn't hear what he was saying, but he could see him
leaning over the back of the sofa, then Hermione's arm appeared, her wand in hand. She flicked it
and there was a click of the lock.

Sirius closed the door behind him and Hermione's disembodied hand twitched her wand again, still
poking upright from where she was obviously still horizontal on the sofa. 'You've been gone for
ages.' her muffled voice said as the door locked again.

'Yeah, Grandfather insisted I properly understand the benefits of making your own liquor.' Sirius
noticed that Remus had sat himself in the only free arm chair, the other one was taken up by a tall
pile of parchment notes and books on everything from wizarding Europe to dark magic. This left
him to sit next to Hermione who had shifted and was sitting now, looking at him as though he'd
done something terrible. Shit. She had heard them.

Then she flicked something at him, it landed in his lap and he picked it up – It was the Jack.

'I told you to rip it up if you didn't need it,' she said, annoyed, 'not let it come back without you. I
thought something had gone wrong.'

Sirius looked down at the little double-ended man. 'Sorry.' he said, but he wasn't really, he actually
had to hide a grin, Hermione had been worried about him.
 Bud Bob Required

10th August

It was strangely eerie to be at Hogwarts in the summer holidays Hermione thought, as she and
Professor Dumbledore walked towards the castle on Monday afternoon. It looked the same as it
always did, expansive green lawns, the lake sparkling in a burst of sunlight, the beautiful if not
imposing castle casting deep cool shadows at its base. The air was still, and the sky littered with
puffy white clouds. The sun darted in and out from behind them, so as Dumbledore and Hermione
walked up the drive they were bathed in warm yellow light one minute and then it would dim
again, only to have the sunlight return moments later.

'I understand Mr Lupin is now aware of your true identity?' Professor Dumbledore asked, squinting
a little at the sun reappeared suddenly.

'Yes Professor.' Hermione confirmed.

'Do you think it wise to involve more people in this?' Dumbledore went on carefully, 'You do not
have all the objects yet, are you not worried that this could upset the events to come?'

Hermione held her tongue as she seethed for a moment. How dare he suggest such a thing? He was
the one that had sent her on a mission that will have considerably changed the future. The Prewett's
and the Bones children were still alive for goodness sake.

'No Professor.' she said shortly. 'Remus is highly trustworthy, and with the most dangerous part of
this task approaching we need all the reliable people we can get.'

Her tone must have implied her annoyance, because Dumbledore said placatingly, 'I understand
Hermione, what role do you plan to give him in all of this?'

'That wasn't why we decided to tell him Professor, but it has worked out quite nicely.' Hermione
said with satisfaction, 'Sirius wanted to tell him, mainly, I think because he feels guilty for lying to
all his friends, and he was worried about their reactions after Hallowe'en, when he would have to
fill them in on what he's been doing with me.' Hermione was rather glad she wouldn't have to be
present for that conversation. 'He realises Lily and James can't know because it will confuse
everything, and he thinks they'll understand his reasoning – especially when they find out it was all
to save their lives. But with Remus he thought he would just feel like he wasn't trusted. And to be
honest, I think Sirius wants back up when he tells the Potters. He's quite frightened of Lily's wrath.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'With good reason, she is very quick – I would be reluctant to tell her as
well.' Hermione smiled to herself. How she wished she could tell Harry that Dumbledore was afraid
of Lily Potter. 'So what part will Mr Lupin play?'

'He is the solution to something I've been worrying about ever since I arrived Professor, you see –'
she hesitated, she didn't want to sound tactless, 'well Professor, it's just that if something … er,
unforeseen happens at Godric's Hollow that night,'

'You mean if Tom gets the better of me?' Dumbledore interjected shrewdly.

'Er, yes,' Hermione grimaced, 'sorry Professor, but we have to be prepared.'

'Naturally.' Dumbledore said, smiling at her.

'So if Riddle gets the better of you, then the Potters are unprotected, and while my reason for
coming here is to destroy Riddle – which will happen anyway if he arrives on the Potter's door step
and kills Lily and James the same way it happened the first time – he'll have no Horcruxes to keep
him alive. However, a piece of his soul attaches itself to Harry when Riddle is blasted apart by his
own curse. And I think even that would be enough to keep him surviving, and within Harry, which
is quite a repulsive idea.'

'Quite.' Dumbledore echoed, looking sombre.

'So, Remus will be at the Potters on Hallowe'en, he won't tell them anything but he will be prepared
in case … well you know.'

'I do indeed Hermione, a very fitting solution.'

Hermione smiled up at her old Headmaster, 'We're nearly there Professor.' she said, 'Once we have
the cup … it's just waiting. Everything has gone extraordinarily well so far.' Hermione couldn't
quite shake the feeling that it all seemed so easy. She was waiting for the impending disaster to
strike, as it always did.

'That it has. So, Hufflepuff's cup, how is Mr Black progressing within the family, do you think he
will gain access to the vault soon? We only have eleven weeks left to us.'

'He is doing very well Professor.' Hermione said proudly, 'His mother is actually being kind to
him.'

'Really?' Dumbledore said, sounding very impressed, 'My word, I will admit I was concerned that
he would not be able to keep is true feelings hidden.'

'Yes, I was as well, but the Blacks wanted to believe him, and his grandfather is very amiable. If he
was free of prejudice I think I would quite like him.' Hermione confided.

'I'm sure you would Hermione, you seem to get along extremely well with Sirius, and I remember
Pollux form his days at school, his grandson was almost a copy of him when he arrived here.
Though being sorted into Gryffindor, and his lack of prejudice, set him apart from Pollux.'

'I thought Professor,' Hermione said musingly, 'that if he's not able to get in by the second week of
October we will have to resort to plan B.'

'Which is?'

'Polyjuice. At first I thought it best to impersonate a Lestrange but now I'm leaning more towards
keeping the plan as close to the original as possible. I haven't told Sirius this yet, but I'm sure he'll
do it. If he goes to Gringotts as Pollux then he can just follow the rest – Imperious the goblin and
get in the vault. It would blow his cover with the Blacks if he was caught … but … well, I say we
decide once we know we need too.'

'Very good.' Dumbledore said, then with a twitch of his beard he added, 'You know Miss Granger,
sometimes I wonder why you even needed me in the first place.'

Hermione laughed, 'Only for the diadem and your excellent aim Professor.' Dumbledore laughed
too, 'And todays lesson of course.'

This was the reason Hermione was at Hogwarts on a Monday afternoon in the summer holidays,
Dumbledore finally had enough time to check her skills at Fiendfyre containment.
They had reached their destination, a secluded part of the grounds, between the lake and the forest;
there was what looked like an oversized stone outdoor pizza oven standing alone on the flat grass.
Hermione giggled. How fitting. 'Are we making Hagrid's lunch Professor?' She asked before she
could stop herself.

Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively, 'I couldn't resist – It seemed an appropriate shape. I required
a confined area. This will serve that purpose.'

Hermione nodded, still smiling.

'So if you would like to proceed Hermione, cast the charms you will use on the thirty first. Then I
will check them before we move on to the fire itself.'

So Hermione set to work, muttering the spell over and over under her breath as she encased the
stone in layer after layer of magical protection. As she did so, she realised what an exhausting task
lay ahead of Sirius and herself, this oven, while oversized, was still remarkably smaller than the
Gaunt shack. She would have to get to work on Sirius skill as soon as possible, there was no way
she would be able to do all of it herself.

Dumbledore had conjured himself a sun lounger while he waited and seemed quite at his ease as he
watched her work; Hermione thought she had never seen anything quite so comical as the long
robed and bearded Professor stretched out like he was at the beach. His silver mass of hair glinting
in the intermittent sunlight.

After an hour of spell casting Hermione was finished. 'Okay Professor.' she said.

He inspected her work – how, she wasn't sure considering the kiln looked no different than when
she had started. But he was far more skilled than she, so she was not going to question his methods.

'It is very good Hermione, I would only advise that you make the entry gap as small as possible.
Barely wide enough for your wand tip, you need to be so quick to cast that last layer after the fyre
has been set. The tiniest space possible always makes it easier.'

Hermione nodded and came forward to correct her mistake.

'Wonderful!' Dumbledore said when she was done. He stood very close to her as she readied herself
for the next stage, his wand covering the invisible parting in the enchantments. 'Go ahead,' he said
quietly.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering her concentration. Mentally prepared, she
cast the non-verbal curse and then the moment the ferocious flames had left her wand she finished
closing the gap in the containment.

It was a terrifying sight. Vicious flamed beasts trapped and howling within their invisible cage,
slowly becoming engulfed in black, billowing smoke as the stone they were feeding on
disintegrated. After five minutes the containment field began to close, tightening and strangling the
fighting, yowling monsters. Gradually the enchantment was winning out over the beasts within,
until with a hiss and feeble growl of suffocation, the constricting spell closed entirely and vanished
into nothing. The empty space left behind unsettled Hermione slightly. The grass was not
scorched, the ironic pizza oven seemed to never have existed.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. 'Perfect Hermione.' he said happily. 'I couldn't have done
it better myself. You are a very talented woman. I must say, I am greatly looking forward to the
day you arrive at Hogwarts.'
Hermione flushed with pride at the praise. 'Thank you Professor.' she said modestly.

'I have no doubt in your skill. May I suggest on Hallowe'en you use a similar structure for the
destruction? They will all fit inside no doubt?'

'Yes Professor.' Hermione said, willing the image of the Gaunt shack to the back of her mind.

12th August

'I can't fucking believe the nerve of that woman!' Sirius growled as he entered Hermione's hotel
room after work on Wednesday, throwing a glossy magazine down on the little dining table as he
passed.

Hermione who was standing at the doors, having just opened them for him, raised her eyebrows
and said, 'Hello Sirius, how are you this evening? My day was lovely thanks, how was yours?'

He cast her a disgruntled look before beginning to open the cupboards in the small kitchen area,
glaring into them as though each mug, pot or salt shaker had done him a great personal disservice.

'Is there something I can help you find?' Hermione asked 'Or are you just generally annoyed and
the contents of my cabinets deserve to take the brunt of it?'

'Wine.' he said, finally opening the door next to the fridge and pulling out a bottle.

Hermione understood it couldn't be anything too serious that had him behaving this way, she knew
him well enough now. Actually bad things made him withdraw. He would be still and quiet, a
seething anger. It was very different to this outward, over the top, grumpy attitude. Someone must
have done something at the Ministry today she realised, recalling his comment as he stormed
passed her from the balcony.

'Wine is always a good idea,' she said cautiously, 'what are you hoping it will help you with
tonight?'

'Sodding Skeeter.' He muttered as he wrenched the cork from the bottle and took a swig. Hermione
retrieved two glasses from the alcove they sat in above the kettle and put them pointedly in front of
him. 'Sorry.' he said as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and filled the glasses.

'No problem.' Hermione said cheerfully. 'I live in a hotel, there are maids, I like to give them
something to do, you drinking from the bottle takes away their right to do my dishes.'

He gave her a half smile but it vanished as his eyes fell on the magazine he'd flung at the table on
entry. 'That Skeeter bitch is writing about us.' he said, looking at her, worry creeping in to his
expression.

Hermione snorted, 'That's what has you so pissed off? She's a hack, who cares?' She flipped the
copy of Witch Weekly over.

An overly made-up witch with a very fake smile that showed far too many perfectly straight, white
teeth was looking proudly at a pair of baby booties being knitted – apparently unassisted – by a set
of flashing knitting needles. Printed in a swirly font below this disturbing image were the words
"Influential couples, who will be tying the knot next wedding season?"

She looked up at Sirius's still scowling face, and burst out laughing, 'Is this what it think is it?'
Hermione gasped out as she began to turn the pages looking for the article.
'I really don't see how you can find it so amusing.' Sirius said grimly.

Hermione found the correct page, there was a montage of photographs, couples walking hand in
hand or eating at restaurants, and then the one that caught her eye – Sirius and herself outside
Twilfitt and Tattings leaning on each other as they laughed hysterically.

Hermione smiled fondly at the picture, she remembered; they had just left the robe makers, it was
only a week ago, the day they were going to the Malfoys for dinner. She and Sirius had put on
quite the act for the seamstress, fussing over fabric and cut, Sirius making ridiculous faces and
doing silent, over the top impressions of her every time the woman had turned her back to adjust
something on Hermione's dress. It had been a very enjoyable outing.

When they had exited the shop, Hermione had burst into a stream of uncontrollable giggles, she
had been fighting to keep them in the whole time they were with the posh shop owner.

They really did look like a couple Hermione realised, as she looked at the pair of them, Sirius in a
t-shirt as usual, but trousers instead of jeans with tattered knees, one arm around her shoulders
while their shopping bags swung from the other as he laughed. Hermione was wearing the blue
dress Sirius had bought her for the first meeting with his mother and her hair was loose, it hung to
the middle of her back and jumped around as she giggled, the dark curls caught in the wind.

She scanned the pages for the accompanying article, - While this wedding season brought our
readers much happiness and inspiration, next summer is shaping up to be quite impressive. With
the Minster for Magic's grandson, three Quidditch players, and a large number of old family heirs
preparing to say I do.

Jasper Bagnold and his long time sweet-heart Josephine Blishwick, announced their engagement
at a small family event last week, Minister Bagnold commented that she is very fond of Miss
Blishwick and is looking forward to the big day. Of course, we at Witch Weekly will keep you
posted on the arrangements, as it is sure to be a most stylish affair.

Terrance Milson of the Montrose Magpies has also …. Hermione skipped down the page, she
really couldn't care less who of these people were getting married, she just wanted to know what
had had been said about Sirius and herself. …. Among these old family heirs, the most surprising
for our readers is no doubt the engagement of Auror, and estranged heir to the Ancient House of
Black, Sirius Black to the Heiress of the famously reclusive Fehr family of Zurich. Hermione Fehr,
The daughter of Frederica and niece of Faustus.

The Fehr Family have had a hand in the shaping of Swiss government and policy for the last six
hundred years. With such powerful connections it is surprising that she has fallen for the estranged
heir to the House of Black.

We however, received confidential information that Miss Fehr has coerced the young Black into
re-establishing ties with his family. "She [Miss Fehr] has met with Walburga Black on a number of
occasions and convinced her to allow Sirius back into the family".

While we don't know the driving force behind these actions, there is no doubt that it is more than a
desire for Miss Fehr to get to know her mother-in-law. "I think she is too proud to marry a
disowned man, he would not receive his inheritance after all." Our source close to the couple told
us.

Whether Miss Fehr is marrying for gold, or a strategic alliance between two very powerful
families, one thing is certain, she couldn't have picked a more handsome groom.
Hermione began to laugh in earnest, 'Is that all? Sirius what on earth is the problem? This is quite
good really. Think of all the sympathy you'll get from eligible young women when I break your
heart and run back to Switzerland.'

He goggled at her, 'What? You would never be so shallow, and we're not engaged. How can they
write things like that?'

'Sirius,' Hermione laughed, 'we're not even dating, I'm not even Miss Fehr,'

Sirius continued to scowl and Hermione wondered why it would bother him to have rumours
circulating that he was engaged, when his whole life was a lie at the moment. Perhaps he was
worried about the possible hindrance to his love-life? Hermione thought that seemed rather to
fickle – Sirius might be a little fast, but he wasn't shallow.

It was another odd reaction to add to the other recent ones. Hermione had gone as far as asking
Remus if he knew why Sirius was acting strangely while the pair of them had been waiting for him
to return from Grimmauld Place on Saturday night.

At first the werewolf had denied any knowledge of such a thing, but when she had expounded on
her theory that Sirius was seeing someone privately, Remus had admitted that Sirius might fancy
someone, but wasn't willing to act on it while they were working on the Riddle situation.

Hermione had not even considered the repercussions on seemingly unimportant things like Sirius's
shag of the month when she asked for his help, and it made her feel quite awkward asking Sirius if
this was the case. The two of them might be close, and comfortable around each other, but it just
seemed a little too private, a little too prying. But she supposed she should give him the chance to
voice his concern, he was the one sacrificing his whole normal life after all.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, hurriedly sipping his way through half a glass of pinot noir,
and still frowning, 'I can understand if you'd rather people not think we're engaged,' she said, 'it
would be, inconvenient, I imagine.'

'Why?' Sirius asked, finally stopping his mechanical drinking to look at her, seeming completely
perplexed.

Hermione was determined not to let him fob her off, 'Because it would mean you couldn't see
anyone, you know, for fear of blowing our cover.'

Then for the first time since his arrival that evening Sirius laughed, 'What? As if I care about that!
I couldn't anyway, the wizarding community is too small, it would be bound to reach the ears of
someone in the family.' It was Hermione's turn to be confused. 'And anyway,' he said, draining the
last of his wine, 'you've ruined me for all other women.'

Hermione's confusion increased, she stared at him as he busied himself pouring another glass, his
eyes flicked up at her once, and then quickly back to the bottle.

'Er, you know, 'cause no other girl will travel back in time and save all my friends lives, and let me
help and er … buy me blue macaroons?' he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the
world, but he still wasn't looking at her.

'But Remus said you fancied someone.' Hermione said, just to see how he would react.

'Bloody wolf.' Sirius muttered, as he moved away from the kitchen, taking his wine to sit down on
the sofa.
'So,' Hermione said, 'Is that why you're annoyed? Because you do fancy someone and now they'll
think you're engaged?'

'No,' Sirius sighed, 'forget about that, it just sort of happened, it's not important. I'm pissed at
Skeeter for saying the only reason you'd marry me is because I'm a Black.'

'I should have guessed.' Hermione said plonking down next to him, a grin on her face, that made
much more sense. 'She hurt your delicate ego. She did say you were handsome.' Hermione held
back a snicker, and tried to look consoling. 'Honestly why do you even care what she has to say?
Please don't tell me you actually think she is right about any of that rubbish.'

'Well is it kind of true.' he said leaning back on the sofa cushions and sighing again.

Hermione stared at him, Sirius really was a moody bugger this evening, the defeatist attitude was
yet another strange reaction. 'You won't have to put up with the family association for much
longer.' she said patting him on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, everyone will know you're not one of
them soon enough. Then you can meet someone who likes you because you're brilliant and not
because you're going to be embarrassingly rich.'

'You think I'm brilliant?' He asked, his head rolling to look at her from where it was resting on the
back of the sofa, a smirk pulling at his lips, his mood switching from maudlin to oddly vulnerable
in a flash.

She slapped his arm and said sternly, 'Of course I do. Now stop fishing for compliments, and stop
worrying about what that useless cow wrote. No girl worth dating reads that trash anyway, and
even if there are rumours, you can use them to your advantage,' She grinned again, 'We Swiss are
right bitches. You'll be able to tell her how evil I was, treating you terribly even though you just
wanted to make me happy. Girls love that crap, you'll be in like Flynn.'

He was smiling lazy at her as she tried to cheer him up, his head still lolling back on the cushion.
Hermione looked at the empty glass in his hand, and then over at the empty bottle on the bench.
He'd had most of the bottle, excepting her glass, in the space of half an hour.

'You're drunk aren't you?' she accused shrewdly. His relaxed grin grew even wider and he nodded
slowly, still not speaking. 'You know I'm beginning to worry about you. Remus said you're a closet
lush. I think he may be right.'

'Only in times of great emotional distress or severe ego wounding.' he said, the ridiculous smile
spreading to show his straight white teeth, tinged purplish from the wine.

'You're a worry.' Hermione said, and then she squawked as he looped his arm around her and
pulled her closer. Holding her nearly full glass of wine out as not to spill it, she shook her head
against his chest, 'Like I said,' she muttered. 'You're a worry.'

He didn't say anything in his defence, and she was reduced to trying to sip her wine on a rather
awkward angle as his arm pinned her to him. She could hear the slow thudding of his heart - being
that her ear was mashed right next to it, and just as she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep and
she would be able to escape, she heard him say 'Thanks. I think you're brilliant too.'
 The Seeker, the Stag and the Gingerbread Man

14th August

–H

How would you fancy going to meet a stag, a gingerbread man and Hogwarts most amazing seeker
this evening? I just got an invite to dinner from the gingerbread man. They want to meet you,
apparently a certain paranoid friend of ours has been telling stories and has made them jealous.
Just be ready at the usual time if you want to come.

DTV

Yours truly,

Mr Ogden

'No reply,' Hermione said quickly to Zoff as he looked up at her, trying to edge closer to a soft bit
of flesh to trap in his beak. He hooted, and took off at once.

Hermione was anxious she got ready to meet the Potters. She really wanted to make a good
impression, it felt like she was being approved as a friend for their son, as silly as that seemed. The
thought that she might not get along with either of them bothered her, as if that would mean that
they wouldn't have wanted her to be Harry's friend. He meant so much to her, the bravest, most
loyal – albeit stubborn – person she knew, disapproval on any level, silly or not, would bother her
immensely.

Hermione wondered how different Harry's personality would be when he'd been raised by people
who loved him. She didn't think the good qualities within him would diminish, but perhaps he'd be
a bit more confident. She couldn't imagine he'd be any more afraid of getting in trouble or speaking
out, James's role-modelling would probably fan those rebellious flames if anything. Although, if
Lily really was as intimidating when angry as Remus, Sirius and even Dumbledore seemed to
think, perhaps Harry would be a little more responsive to the threat of Dumbledore writing to his
parents when he did something wrong.

Well, thought Hermione, it's not like they would need to be sneaking around in the dead of night to
see three headed dogs or be given detentions for flying cars to Hogwarts. The catalyst for those
things was being removed. By her. She was sad just for a moment as she realised that she would
miss the crazy adventures they'd had.

When Sirius arrived at the usual time, just after six, she heard him taping on the glass of the door.
She pulled back the curtain and said, 'Poppy Pomfrey purges poisons perfectly peacefully.'

Sirius was grinning from ear to ear, and laughing appreciatively as he replied, 'Filch fights fun
fearlessly, for festivities force frivolousness.'

'Okay,' Hermione said, as she unlocked the door and opened it, 'the whole point of us doing these is
because its quick, and yours are getting a tad ridiculous.'

Sirius just laughed as he bounced into the room, 'So do you want to come tonight?' he asked
enthusiastically, 'You really should, Lily is an awesome cook, really amazing, and you can see
Harry, he'll be so big, and meet Prongs he's wicked and –'
'Whoa, slow down, how come you're so excited?' Hermione asked, wondering if he'd got in the
way of a cheering charm at some point during the day.

Sirius shrugged, his cheeky smile never left his face as he said, 'I dunno! Haven't seen them for
ages, like six weeks! Can't bloody wait, Harry's walking Lily said, it'll be great, and I want to see
him on his broom, Prongs says he's a natural.'

Hermione almost took a step back, he was rocking up and down on the balls of his feet. His eyes
were shining, his dark hair dancing about his face. She had never seen him this happy, it was quite
overpowering. He seemed much younger, like a teenager. There was no stress, no undercurrent of
apprehension. Just plain, old fashioned happiness.

'Of course I want to come.' Hermione assured him, 'Do you want to go now?' she asked.

'Yep,' he said at once, 'can I leave my robes here? I don't want to go and drop them off at home.'

'Sure thing,' Hermione said, as she went to fetch him a coat hanger. When she returned she was
greeted with the sight of Sirius, obviously stuck - head, shoulders and wrists wrapped in scratchy
Ministry robe material, midriff completely exposed by the t-shirt that was entangled somewhere
under his armpits.

'The great Auror and Marauder Sirius Black, strangled to death by his clothes,' Hermione
snickered, 'that's almost as bad as death by curtain you know, I'm trying to prevent embarrassing
deaths here.'

'Shut it,' Sirius grouched from the depth of the fabric, but she could tell he was laughing. Then with
an extra vigorous tug he finally freed himself.

Hermione found herself staring at his bare chest and thinking that it was quite a shame he had to
wear a shirt at all. Then, blinking and hastily averting her eyes, she ducked to pick his fallen t-shirt
and robes from the floor. Trying to cover the fact that she had been blatantly ogling him, she threw
the t-shirt at him, and began to untangle the robes from their tightly wound ball.

'Good grief Sirius,' she said, still looking away, 'How on earth did you get them into this state?'

'They're the winter ones,' he explained, 'they are even worse than the summer set, I forgot that they
have buttons on the inside of the sleeves, I pulled them over my head but then my hands were
stuck.'

Hermione was laughing again, recovered from her brief bout of perve-fever, 'Why were you
wearing winter robes? It's not cold, it's August!'

'Both my summer ones were dirty.' He said with a shrug.

'Honestly Sirius,' Hermione muttered, resisting rolling her eyes, 'sometimes I wonder how you even
feed yourself.'

He grinned at her, 'Um … I don't. I eat at the pub, or with you, or at James and Lily's, I buy my
lunch at work and cereal doesn't really count as feeding myself. I can make coffee, and tea, that's
all a man really needs.'

'Fair enough,' she said, 'Well come on, I thought you wanted to go?' She hung the newly untangled
robe on its hanger on the back of the door to the bathroom, picked up her purse from the table and
they went out on to the balcony to disapparate.
When they arrived outside the little cottage in Godrics Hollow, Hermione was surprised she wasn't
overcome with memories of the time she had Harry had visited this same spot that terrible
Christmas eve. The house looked very different, all quaint and whole with window boxes and a
neat little garden. Nothing at all like the blasted ruin she remembered. Sirius opened the squeaking
gate for her and they made their way to the front door, Sirius grinned at her before he knocked, that
same childlike excitement still evident in his face.

'Who is it?' asked a serious voice, the same voice that had echoed from the stag patronus two
weeks ago.

'It's Padfoot and the female Moony.' Sirius replied in kind. Hermione looked at Sirius, brows
raised, he shrugged, 'Well I'm not going to say your real name am I? He could be an imposter.'

The seriousness broke and there was a brief chuckle before the voice asked, 'Who stole the
ingredients, and got detention for the Shrinking Solution in second year?'

'Ah a trick question.' Sirius said, 'That would be Moony, the stealing part. But you got the detention
'cause Sluggy saw you drop the empty leech juice bottle three days later.'

'That's right,' said James, 'Although detention with Sluggy was never that bad, just had listen to him
drone on and write lines.'

'Alright,' Sirius said through the door, 'Where did you take Lily the first time she agreed to go out
with you?'

'Trying to get in on my trick questions ay?' James said with a chuckle, 'Nowhere – she stood me up.
We were only going to go to Hogsmeade, but she didn't show – blaming Head Girl duties, which I
know was crap because they were the same jobs I was given.'

Sirius laughed as the door opened, and they stepped over the threshold quickly.

James Potter shut the door behind them before pulling his best friend into a bone crushing hug.
Hermione couldn't help but stare as they pounded each other on the back, chuckling and teasing. It
was Harry. Harry she had seen only three months before. The eyes were wrong, and his hair was
longer, but it was Harry grinning the same Harry grin as he and Sirius broke apart and his eyes fell
on her.

'You must be Hermione,' James said, grasping her hand, 'it's nice to meet you, Moony has told us
heaps about you, more than we could get out of this idiot anyway.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, trying to focus. 'It's great to meet you James. This idiot –' she looked at
Sirius, '– might not talk about me, but he's told me tons about you. Quite the colourful history you
two have, Remus told me some stories the other night too.'

'And Pete?' James asked, 'Have you met him yet? His mum's sick so he doesn't get out much at the
moment but he's cool. We'll have to have everyone round together one night.'

Sirius's face was a pale mask when Hermione glanced at him, 'No I haven't met him yet.' Hermione
said, swallowing the awful taste in her mouth, 'He sounds very sweet though.'

James smiled and said, 'Come and meet Lily, dinner is nearly ready.'

Hermione felt her nerves mounting as she followed James and Sirius down the narrow hall toward
the kitchen. Then there was a flash of black and white at knee level and Hermione jumped, 'What
the –'
'That's Marbles,' Sirius said, and Hermione turned to see the black and white cat streaking up the
staircase next to them.

'What has him so riled?' she asked, confused at the cat's skittish behaviour.

'Nothing, he's always like that, that why James called him marbles, because the damn cat's lost his.'

'Oh right,' said Hermione. Trying to laugh, but her apprehension at meeting Lily and Harry was
getting in the way.

'Lily,' James said as they entered the kitchen, 'This is Hermione.'

When Lily turned to face them from where she was chopping tomatoes at the bench, she wore a
broad smile; Harry's eyes twinkled with happiness in her friendly face, 'Hermione, lovely to meet
you.' she hurried toward her, large knife still in hand. Hermione eyed it warily and Lily seemed to
notice because she dropped it onto the table before pulling Hermione into a hug and kissing her on
the cheek. 'I'm so glad you're here, Remus says you're cleverer than him – he was so impressed. It
must be awful having to go to the Blacks all the time. How do you deal with that? And him?' she
looked over at Sirius who was holding the messy haired baby from the picture he had bought
Hermione, and giving Lily a mock injured look.

Hermione, overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions – and the fact that her best friend was
wearing nappies and being given aeroplane rides while he giggled delightedly – didn't respond
straight away. 'Er … it's nice to meet you Lily.' she pulled her eyes away from the happy baby to
look at Lily, 'I have to be honest, it's a bit of a shock, the way Remus and Sirius talk about you I
was a little afraid, even Dumbledore warned me not to get on your bad side, quite the fearless
warrior they told me.' Hermione smiled at the pretty red-head.

Lily began to laugh, 'You have nothing to fear – I reserve my warrior skills for keeping these men
in line.'

Hermione laughed too, 'Good to know.' she said.

Sirius and James were talking quietly on the other side of the room. Harry between them, still held
by his godfather, tugging on both their shirts trying to get their attention.

Hermione heard Sirius say, 'Mate, it's nothing, don't worry about it.' Before Lily said loudly, 'what
are you two gossiping about now?'

'Nothing Lils,' James said quickly, 'Come and meet my son Hermione, England's newest Chaser.' he
added proudly.

Sirius handed Harry to her as she joined them, Lily returning to her chopping. Harry looked up at
Hermione, his little face so familiar, but the lack of scar on his forehead was blindingly obvious.
He garbled as Hermione touched the spot where it would be, and his chubby fingers reached up to
grab her hand, he had a number of sharp little teeth that she could see as he made happy nonsense
sounds, enjoying the game of trying to push her hand away.

Hermione realised, to her horror, that there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She shook
her head and blinked rapidly to clear them. She couldn't have the Potters thinking she was too
strange, and crying over their baby would probably lead them to that conclusion.

'You can put him down if you hold his hands.' James said, 'He loves trying to walk, keeps him
entertained for hours, good thing too, he's a heavy bugger.'
So, Hermione stood, holding on to Harry's little hands as he made precarious steps around the
kitchen. Lily was tossing a huge bowl of salad and Sirius was laying the table, while James carved
a roast chicken he had retrieved from the oven. All Hermione could think was how much her Harry
had missed out on, this real proper loving little family. She could understand why Sirius would do
anything for these people. The smile never left Sirius's face, until, as he joked with James – while
sorting the cutlery – about the size of their knives, looking at the large carving knife his friend was
holding, and saying something about 'overcompensation.'

This comment caused James to flick his wand from his sleeve, and send the cutlery flying about
Sirius head. Sirius's wand was in his hand when Lily muttered, seemingly without a second
thought, 'Finite' and then, 'Impedimenta.'

Both her husband and his best friend were frozen. She didn't blink an eye as she put the salad on
the table, plucked the knives and forks from the air around Sirius's face, and placed them at each
position on the table. Then, she took the chicken from under James's still hands and added it to the
table as well. She looked at Hermione who was standing quite as stationary as the two men, though
because of fascination rather than magic.

'Could you pop Harry in his high chair Hermione?' Lily said breezily, as though nothing unusual
was happening, 'They'll be moving again any minute, best serve ourselves before the ravenous
beasts descend.'

Hermione laughed and picked Harry up under the armpits and sat him in the chair. He kicked his
legs and glared at her as though he was horrified at being forced to sit like a child, when he was
quite clearly a walking adult. He didn't cry however, he just sat, looking plainly annoyed at not
being taken seriously.

Hermione took her seat at the table, and Lily loaded their plates. Just as they began to eat the two
immobilised men started to move, both with sullen expressions like they had been scolded
something terrible, and sat themselves at the table too.

Hermione was finding it very difficult not to laugh at the pair of them, and when Sirius said in a
deadly serious undertone to his godson, 'Mate, I don't know how you get away with it.' She
couldn't keep it in any longer. Lily was snickering behind her napkin too. James and Sirius just
stared at the two women, disbelief at the under appreciation for their suffering etched on both their
faces.

'So, did they live up to your expectations?' Sirius asked, as they waited for the kettle to boil. He
was leaning on the edge of the kitchen bench beside her as she retrieved cups from the cabinet
above the sink, they had just returned from dinner at the Potters.

'Definitely,' she replied, 'James looks so much like Harry, it's very weird, I had to keep reminding
myself it wasn't him, and Lily is great, I can see why everyone speaks so highly of her.'

'Yeah,' Sirius said contentedly. The kettle started to whistle as he said, 'I thought it would make
you happy to know the people you're here to save.'

Hermione was a little unsettled by this comment, she wasn't here to save them. She was here to
stop Voldemort. That was the main objective. The fact that Lily and James were going to live
because of timing was a very happy coincidence.

'It does.' she said anyway, thinking it unnecessary to point out this morbid fact, 'Thank you, you
were right, Lily really can cook.'
'Merlin I know,' he agreed, 'I always feel like I need a kip after one of her dinners.' Sirius yawned
and stretched as Hermione took the now full teapot to the table in the sitting room.

'So what were you and James whispering about?' she asked as he came and sat on the sofa. 'I heard
you tell him not to worry about something when we first arrived.'

'Oh actually, that was really mental.' Sirius said, helping himself to tea. 'He asked me if I still
trusted Moony, said he's been turning them down for dinner and things, I told him that of course
we can trust him. Prongs was worried the pack had got to him.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'that must be why you didn't let him in on the secret keeper stuff last time. I
knew that you and James were suspicious of him, but I didn't know why. God it's so evil what this
war can do to people.'

'I reckon.' Sirius said, 'It's strange, I feel guilty for something I haven't even done, as if Moony
would ever go to the pack, and if he had no choice, he would cut himself off from us completely.
No matter what they had over him, he would keep us out of it.'

Hermione thought about how Dumbledore had sent Remus to do just that in the second war, and
how much he had hated it. God they had to succeed.

'So what do you think about the vault?' she asked, her mind on the only way to prevent Remus's
plight, 'Do you reckon your mother will give you access soon? We've only got six and a bit weeks
before it's October, I'm getting a bit anxious.'

'I think she will.' He mused, 'But even then I'll have to go a few times, you know, make it regular
before I try anything. I've been thinking about it actually.' he said, kicking his boots off and putting
his feet up on the sofa, lying back with his hands behind his head.

'I thought that once Mother, or Grandfather for that matter allows me in, I'll offer to do the weekly
visit. Even if I have to go with Grandfather a couple of times. Then I'll ask permission to get
something for you out of the vault, there is a huge amount of jewellery and crap in there so it's
perfectly reasonable, and Mother will be very happy for the lovely Miss Fehr to be wearing a Black
heirloom.' He let his head hang off the seat cushion to look at her in the armchair, and winked from
his upside down position. 'So then you'll be able to come with me to choose something, and
merrily imperious goblins along the way.' he added will a little laugh.

'You don't think it'll seem like you're trying to get your hands on their gold?' Hermione asked,
concerned.

'It's family gold.' he said simply, 'I'm family.'

'You know what I mean.' Hermione said shaking her head at him.

'No, they believe me,' he said seriously, 'well at least Grandfather and Mother do, I forgot to tell
you, Mother gave me an heirloom of my own.'

'Really?' Hermione said in surprise, 'When?'

'On poker night.' Sirius said, not elaborating.

'Well … what is it?' she coaxed, wondering why he'd brought it up if he wasn't going to tell her.

'My Grandmother Irma's engagement ring.' He muttered to the ceiling.

'Oh good grief,' sighed Hermione, 'let me guess, you're supposed to give it to me? Wow, your
mother is pushy.'

Sirius nodded from his horizontal position. 'Yep, that she is.'

Hermione was thinking about the vault again. Surely if Sirius was engaged they would believe he
could be trusted as the heir, he would need to provide and have accounts for his children. And any
children of Hermione Fehr would not be happy on an Auror's wage. Perhaps it was the best way to
guarantee access.

Sirius was silent with his eyes shut as he lay on the sofa, he must be thinking about this too
Hermione thought. 'Do you think we should get engaged?' She asked abruptly, 'I mean, do you
think it would get you in the vault quicker?'

He didn't move, with his eyes still shut he said at length, 'I don't think so, I told Mother it was too
soon. She might get suspicious if I suddenly change my mind, nah, I'll go and see Grandfather
tomorrow, he goes to Gringotts on a Monday, so if I mention I want to help more, he might ask me
to meet him there in my lunch break or something.'

'Oh, Okay.' Hermione said, 'Your plan sounds good by the way, I'd rather not have to resort to
polyjuice potion if we can help it.'

Hermione glanced at her watch, it was nearly midnight. Sirius didn't look like he was planning to
leave anytime soon. She picked up a book from the armchair pile, she felt a bit rude asking him to
leave, it wasn't like she had any reason to be up early on a Saturday morning. He seemed quite
content to lie on the couch quietly with his eyes closed, so why should she want him to go? She
would probably sit up reading for another hour or so anyway.

Within half an hour of silence Sirius was fast asleep. Hermione let him nap, thinking he'd likely
wake up soon and then she could lock up after him. But he didn't.

At half-past one she decided he could just sleep on the sofa. He was trapped inside the room due to
her security spells but if he really wanted to go when he woke up – most likely in a fair bit of pain,
it was not a sofa designed for sleeping on – he could wake her and she could let him out then.

Good grief, it's like having a dog, she thought, as she got into bed, then she chuckled at the irony.

When Hermione woke the next morning she was far too warm. The covers on the bed were so tight
around her, sleepily she tried to loosen them but was met with a solid weight of resistance. Her eyes
snapped open as she tried to reach for her wand. The sheets were twisted so tightly around her she
could hardly move her arms. Turning her head she saw with relief – and confusion – that the
weight was Sirius. Fast asleep on top of the bedspread, quite close to her on the wide bed, his head
resting on the other pillow beside hers, snoring softly.

Still half asleep, she prodded him sharply in the arm – the only bit of him she could reach with her
constrained limbs – trying to get him to roll over so she could loosen the duvet straight jacket his
prone figure was causing. Somehow she'd ended up with the edge of the covers underneath her and
with him on the other side pinning them down she couldn't move.

'What?' he mumbled, obviously still asleep.

'Roll over,' she said, jabbing him again, 'I'm trapped.'

His eyes opened at the sound of her voice. They were facing each other, the look on his face when
he saw her, wrapped up to her chin in a cocoon of feather bedspread was quite entertaining, despite
her prisoner status. His eyes, still unfocused with sleep, went wide and he seemed totally befuddled
for a moment. 'Er… good morning?' he said.

She huffed impatiently, 'I'm trapped,' she said again, 'Roll over.' She managed to get one leg free to
the knee and kicked him in the shin through the layers of bedding.

'Ouch!' he grunted, rolling on to his back to clutch at the injury, 'You're not a morning person I see,'
Sirius said, he had moved enough and she was able to get her arms free.

'No,' she said, 'I'm fine with mornings, it's being held hostage in my own bed I'm not that fond of,
what are you doing in here anyway?' she asked, 'Why didn't you just wake me up? Then you could
have slept at home.'

'To be honest,' he said, crawling under the covers and making himself comfortable, 'I don't even
really remember coming in.' he yawned and closed his eyes again.

'What are you doing?'

'What does it look like?' he asked, opening one eye to look at her, 'Sleeping, it's full moon tonight,
need all the rest I can get, Prongs said he can't come,' Sirius groaned and added, 'and it is way too
early to be awake on a Saturday.'

Hermione just stared at him, he was serious. She wasn't trapped in the duvet of death anymore so
she could just get up, she looked at the little clock on the bedside table, ten past six. Maybe not.
Deciding it wasn't worth the argument, she rolled over and went back to sleep.
 Carry On

28th August

Two weeks after Hermione had met the Potters, her little routine in 1981 had changed. She didn't
have a lot to do with her time to begin with, but now she was facing solitude nearly as often as the
week Sirius had been away at the start of the month.

Sirius himself was at the complete other end of the scale, working full time and instead of coming
to visit Hermione in the evenings after work he was going to Grimmauld Place. Sirius's grandfather
had accepted his offer of help, and Pollux was introducing him to the financial duties of an heir to a
powerful, wealthy family. Sirius had joined his grandfather at Gringotts for the first time on the
Monday just passed, and seemed to be very talented at the complicated process of keeping the
books of donations and family investments under control.

Hermione was pleased that his infiltration was going smoothly because their time was ticking
away. It was only two little months to Hallowe'en now. She was quite sure the clock on the wall of
her room had increased in volume considerably over the last month, but then that could be because
it was so painfully quiet without the boisterous presence of Sirius Black. He still turned up to say
hello and fill her in on his progress most nights, but it was always very late in the evening and he
would inevitably fall asleep on the sofa after only an half an hour of conversation. Hermione would
sit in the armchair next to him and read, under the pretence that he was just having a power nap,
and would awaken in time for her to lock up before she went to bed.

She wasn't sure why she continued this charade, since over the last two weeks she had learnt that
Sirius did not nap. Once he was asleep that was it. So she would leave him there, his long limbs
curled up awkwardly on the little sofa, then in the morning she would wake to find him next to her
in the large hotel bed. This strange habit of his had concerned her at first. But after two weeks she'd
started to find it quite comforting. Like they were some pseudo married couple who rarely spoke
but kept the relationship alive with the small act of sleeping in the same bed.

She had offered to teach him the charm she used to protect the room so that he could let himself in
and out, but he had refused, saying that it was yet another bit of security for both of them. If
someone got to him, and found out with Veritaserum they would be able to get to her, their silly
alliterated phrases made sure that before she let him in, it really was him.

With spending all her days, and most of each evening alone for the last fortnight, not to mention
her constantly ticking clock pounding away at her brain, (a clock whose tick suspiciously sounded
like cup … cup … cup.) Hermione was quite glad to hear a knock at the balcony door in the middle
of Friday afternoon. She hastened to the glass and was surprised to see Remus Lupin leaning
heavily against the frame, one of his eyes was swollen shut and there was a spectacular black and
yellowish-green bruise surrounding it, the rest of him looked rather dishevelled as well.

'R-Remus?' Hermione choked out.

He gave what she supposed was meant to be a grin of acknowledgement, but it looked like it
caused him too much pain and morphed to a grimace halfway through. She cast around for a
question to ask him.

'Um … what tool – that you, and three friends created – helped you most in your rule breaking at
Hogwarts?'
He tried the smile again, once again failing as he said, 'That would have to be the map, the
Marauders Map, the password is I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.' Hermione nodded, and
waited for him to ask something.

'What question did Padfoot ask me, the first time you visited my house?' Remus said, he looked
like he was trying very hard to annunciate through his puffy face.

Oh god, she couldn't remember … It was something to do with Filch … then it came back to her.
'He asked who you said you'd rather shag than have to go to another divination lesson.' Hermione
quickly unlocked the door as she spoke, and in the same breath asked, 'What happened Remus?
Are you alright? Why are you hurt … is Sirius …?' She was concerned that Remus would come to
her, unannounced and injured no less, surely if Sirius was alright he would have come too.

'He's fine, and I'm not really hurt, just a black eye.' It was significantly more than a black eye; half
his face was mottled with the bruise. But Hermione didn't question the term. 'I wanted to tell you
sooner but I was held up, Gideon Prewett was killed last night. I was on duty with him, Fabian and
Dedalus at Forte de Sang. We've been watching it for weeks and unfortunately the Lady of the
House has returned home from France.'

'Oh no, Remus,' Hermione said, ushering him inside. 'That's terrible, are the others okay?'

He nodded, moving stiffly, 'Yeah we got away alright – but I didn't know if this would affect
anything, I mean, it's awful to say, but he was already supposed to be dead. I thought you should
know, and with Padfoot being so busy I wasn't sure when he get the chance to tell you. It's not
something he could put it in a letter.'

'Thanks Remus,' Hermione said, 'I'm not sure if it will change anything either. It's terrible though.
Poor Fabian and Molly, losing their brother, it's not like they knew he should have died two months
ago. Now, have you had your eye looked at? Sit down. I'll make a cup of tea.'

'I'm fine, don't fuss,' Remus said, as he sat on the sofa. 'You should see me after the full moon.'

Hermione tsked under her breath as she made tea, then after rummaging in her handbag she pulled
out a tub of yellow paste. 'So what happened last night? Forte de Sang … that's Lestrange House
right?'

'Yes and Madam Lestrange herself came back from her continental holiday yesterday.' Remus said,
his light tone not quite hiding his trepidation, 'it was very bad day to get caught.'

'Oh no,' Hermione said again, 'She didn't torture you did she?' the memory of Bellatrix's powerful
curse wracking through her bones caused Hermione to shudder.

'Not me.' Remus said quietly, 'Diggle was hurt, knocked out by the two on patrol that found us. We
stunned and bound them pretty quick and I was taking Diggle out of the way, because more were
coming and the first two set off the Anti-Disap jinx.' Remus shook his head dejectedly. 'It was a
sodding disaster. I was putting him down behind a tree when I heard her voice, merlin, like
fingernails on a blackboard, she had three others with her.'

Hermione let him talk, she knew he would feel a lot better once he had told the story, survivors
guilt was an awful thing. Once someone knew, and preferably said you couldn't have done
anything to change it, you always found it easier to bare. In Hermione's experience anyway.

'Gideon took down one of them but they bound him pretty quick, when I got there I hit another but
Bellatrix was too fast. She cruciated Fabian and I'd given up my advantage by stunning one of
them. The third one was nearly on me when I broke Gideon's bindings and he yelled a warning –
Bellatrix noticed and turned on him - Fabian was in no state to fight, and then before I could do
anything Gideon was dead.'

Remus took a deep breath before he continued, 'I punched the one coming for me. Sometimes it's
good to be a werewolf.' he added with a grim twist to his mouth. 'And then suddenly Diggle was
there. He saved us. The first two were coming round and Bellatrix was firing off curses like you
wouldn't believe. I was fighting as hard as I could, but shit, she's something. Diggle set this tree on
fire and hurtled at Bellatrix, that's how I got this,' he pointed to his black and blue face. 'A branch
clipped me. Then we ran. We weren't that far from the boundary, thank god, I carried Gideon and
Diggle helped Fabian. Then we disapparated.'

Hermione was watching him horrified, sShe stretched out a consoling hand and patted his shoulder.
'Remus,' she said quietly, 'How horrible, you did everything you could though. I'm impressed three
of you got away, I've seen Bellatrix fight, it's terrifying, she has no conscience. You know she was
the one that killed Sirius in my time?'

'Yeah,' Remus said, his tone improving slightly, 'He was fit to be tied when he told me that. I still
don't think he believes you.'

'It's true.' Hermione insisted. 'You know he's quite the dualist – and that was one on one, Bellatrix
with back up is something I would never want to face.' she said with a shiver.

The image of Sirius falling through the stone arch in her mind was suddenly replaced by Mrs
Weasley charging at Bellatrix – furious protective pride in her face – before engaging the dark
haired maniac. Then Hermione could see Bellatrix's bulging eyes as she fell to the floor, defeated
by a woman who was everything she wasn't.

'In the final battle,' she said, not knowing if it would give him the same comfort it gave her, 'when
Harry killed Riddle, it was Gideon's sister, Molly, that finished Bellatrix. I know it's backwards
logic, but it makes me feel a little better. Like she got her revenge.' Remus smiled at her, his
bruised face crinkling strangely. 'Now lie down. This, will get rid of that.' she held up the pot of
paste and pointed at his eye. 'In another rather ironic twist,' she said as she unscrewed the lid, 'this
was invented by Gideon and Fabian's twin nephews.'

He eyed it warily, 'The ones with the joke shop?'

'Yes. But don't worry, it works a treat. Now lie down.' she said sternly. He complied with a roll of
his eyes – or eye, as she could only see one. She knelt on the floor beside the sofa and began to
apply the thick yellow ointment to the multi-coloured cheek.

'You know,' he said, as she worked, 'I see what Padfoot means.'

'What he means about what?' Hermione asked as she moved his thick hair away from his ear – the
bruise was quite extensive; eyebrow to jaw, nose to ear, it was a wonder he didn't have a
concussion.

'He said you always know what to say, to make him feel better. I mean …' he trailed off
awkwardly.

'Well what are friends for?' Hermione asked briskly, and a little flattered. 'I know it must be weird
for him seeing as how he's only known me for a little while, but I knew him for two years, and
lived in his house for a whole summer, and to be honest cheering up this Sirius is a decidedly easier
task than the one I knew. He was a right grumpy bugger.'
Remus chuckled. 'I guess spending a decade in prison would do that to a bloke.'

He was quiet for a while as she worked, his expression became more serious and then he glimpsed
at her before he asked hesitantly, 'Hermione, can you … is there anything you could tell me,
anything about my life? Nothing important or … I've been wondering, I can't help thinking that
with Prongs and Lily gone, and I would have thought Pettigrew was dead too, and Sirius in jail for
their murders … I can't imagine.' He closed his good eye and took a breath, 'It would kill me'. He
said in barely more than a whisper. 'Do you know… was I … was I okay?'

'I'm not sure.' Hermione said sadly. 'I met you the same year I met Sirius. I think you just carried
on, so to speak. You were certainly happy when you found out Sirius was innocent.' His downcast
look didn't fade so she went on, 'I could probably tell you a few things that won't mess anything up.
But I warn you,' she said, mock seriously, 'Sirius told me not to tell you this – apparently it will
provoke singing. Quite the dire consequence.' She grinned as she tried to remove a congealed glob
of the thick paste from his eyebrow.

He looked at her, confused. 'Singing?'

'I think he just meant you'd be ridiculously pleased.' She assured him.

'Okay, so what is it? I give you my solemn oath that singing is off the cards.'

Hermione laughed. 'You become Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. Best
teacher we had, and believe me, we had enough of them. Everyone loved you, you're very gifted,
made everyone feel like they could do it.'

There was a proper smile on his face now, the paste was doing its job and both sides of his mouth
were able to curl up. 'I always wanted to be a teacher you know.'

'I know.'

Then he chuckled again. 'Oh right, of course you do.'

'Okay,' she said, 'you're all done, the bruise and swelling will be gone in ten minutes. It will still
hurt a bit, but at least you'll look less like you decided to get on Hagrid's bad side – not to mention
having your depth perception back again.'

'Thanks.' he said as he sat up, 'I'll have to remember your secret healing skills. Much more pleasant
than dealing with St Mungo's - No forms to fill in.' he added grinning again.

'No problem.' Hermione said, as she screwed the lid back on the little pot.

'If I'm hired at Hogwarts, does that mean that it gets easier for werewolves? I can't imagine anyone
would want their kids learning from one. Not now anyway, they'd be afraid I'd eat them.'

Hermione didn't answer – pouring tea as an excuse, her thoughts on the Wolfsbane recipe in her
book of private notes. Maybe just knowing it was coming would be enough for him. But surely he
would question why she hadn't brought the information back with her. How much would it hurt for
him to know? 'There is a potion,' she said carefully, choosing her words, 'it's developed in about
ten year's time, called Wolfsbane, it allows you keep your human mind when you transform.'

Remus's unbruised eye widened, 'Really?' he whispered, 'That's amazing, ten years?' his voice was
hoarse, almost shaking. 'Wow,' he breathed, 'so I'd just be me, but look like the wolf?'

'Yes.' Hermione said.

'Wow.' he said again. 'In ten years … so does that mean people are less afraid of us?'

Hermione sighed. 'Not really, but I've made some headway, I don't know if Sirius told you but that
was my job before I left 2001, I worked in The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical
Creatures at the Ministry.'

'No he didn't mention that.'

'Well, we just passed a law giving employers incentives and free Wolfsbane potion if they hired
werewolves. It's a really big step, I wrote most of it myself. It was hard because I didn't want the
employees' to be taken advantage of, and as most werewolves are still uneducated their job
potential is limited. But it's a start.'

'That's amazing,' Remus said quietly, 'I can't believe anyone would go to so much effort.'

'There are a lot of kids a Hogwarts now, all bitten during the war by Greyback but he's dead and we
caught the other leaders not long after. So this generation will hopefully be the last in Britain.
They're at school, they take Wolfsbane, and they just want to have normal lives. It's helping the
public perception. There are still bigots of course, but there always will be. We just need to have
enough people with the right mind-set to make them the minority.'

Remus was staring at her his mouth hanging open. 'You did that? That's … merlin.' he let out a low
whistle.

Hermione blushed. 'I've always struggled with wizarding perception of magical creatures. Not just
werewolves, House-elves and Centaurs too. The equal rights law is named after you, It's called the
Lupin Act. I hope you don't mind.'

Remus was quite obviously lost for words as he gazed at her. 'No I don't …' he said, as if it was and
absurd statement.

'I wanted to use my status for something worthwhile, being Harry Potter's friend was very trying at
times. But after he killed Riddle – well, you know he was a hero. And our friend Kingsley
Shacklebolt is Minister, it is much easier to get things done when you have important people on
your side, and you and Kingsley were good friends so he was more than happy to help me get the
law through'.

'I was mates with the Minister of Magic?' Remus said, looking quite overwhelmed at the new slew
of information, 'Wow … this is … how can I ever thank you Hermione? You've done so much.
Merlin, I've never … no wonder Padfoot is –' he cut off abruptly.

Hermione looked a question at him.

'Um – no wonder he told me to ask about your work.' He added hastily

'Did he? He doesn't know about most of this. And thank me? You don't get to enjoy any of it.
Although you will this time.' She laughed, 'I bet you won't let me name the bill after you this time
round though. You'd be too embarrassed.'

He still seemed to be in shock. Then he shook his head, 'You're probably right. It would be a little
odd to have a law named for me when I didn't have anything to do with it.'

Hermione smiled, his face was back to normal now. He was grinning dazedly. He didn't seem to
realise that without the war Hermione wouldn't be famous and wouldn't have the pull she did at the
Ministry. It was this thought that caused the words to drop from her lips before she even considered
it.

'I have the recipe, for the potion.'

His eyebrows shot up, 'What? No Hermione. You just said ten years, that's the sort of thing that
will alter history. You can't.'

'I know I really shouldn't have bought it with me. But I thought that if I failed … at least I'd be able
to leave something useful behind. I've never made it, and it's hard. Very complicated. Would you
really turn it down? We could keep it a secret.'

'Of course I wouldn't turn it down.' Remus said guiltily, sounding annoyed, 'Questionable
repercussions or not, to be myself every day of the month; it's all I've ever wanted.'

'I'm not sure who could brew it, I haven't told anyone, not even Sirius. You know what he's like, he
would have stolen it from me in a heartbeat for you.'

Remus gave a little laugh, 'That is very true … I don't know … maybe Slughorn? But he would
never be able to keep it to himself.'

'Professor Snape brewed it for you when you were teaching.' Hermione said, momentarily
forgetting that Remus didn't know about Snape's true loyalty.

'Snape? As in Severus Snape?' he said, aghast.

'Don't start,' Hermione said, sharply, 'I know what you lot are like about him, he made that potion
for you perfectly. If it makes you feel any better all the students hated him. You were by far the
popular choice.'

Remus snorted. 'I don't understand why Dumbledore let him teach there in the first place. He's a
Death Eater. And a git.' He added, somewhat petulantly.

'He's a spy. He turned after the prophecy was made. You know he and Lily were friends as
children, he kept Harry alive for her. He was a double agent to the end.'

'Lily!' Remus exclaimed. Ignoring the information that Snape was actually on their side. 'Lily
could brew it. She's just as good as Snape at potions.'

'Okay.' Hermione said slowly, 'You'll have to think of a cover story for where you got it from.' She
got up from her chair and fetched her little notebook. 'You have to be very careful with it.'

'I know that.' He said, 'I have a plan, you know the map? Well, we use the same spell on messages
sometimes, keeps them hidden. I'll do the same to this.'

Hermione handed him a piece of hotel stationary and a pen, with her notebook open to the right
page, and watched as Remus copied down the method and ingredients, then as he charmed the
piece of paper.

'Right.' he said when he was finished, 'Now, try and read it.'

Hermione tried everything she could think of to no avail. Even the Marauders Map's password
didn't work. The paper stayed blank.

She handed it back and said, 'Very good. Just don't throw it out by mistake.'

Remus laughed. 'I certainly will not.' He flashed her a surprising cheeky grin before he tapped the
page with his wand and said, 'Hermione Granger is bloody brilliant.'

Hermione snorted as the piece of paper was suddenly covered in Remus' neat script once more.
 A Clever Ruse

2nd September

'Okay, I don't know what you did to Moony, but he's fucking in love with you.' Sirius grumbled as
he entered Hermione's hotel on Wednesday night. It was after ten, and when Hermione looked at
him - horrified by his statement - she saw the ever present dark circles below his unusually dull and
red rimed grey eyes, his jaw shadowed by rough stubble, and a slump to his shoulders she didn't
think she'd ever seen before.

'Er … what? Don't be ridiculous.' Hermione stammered, closing the door and locking it.

He collapsed onto the sofa, exhaling in pleasure at being horizontal. 'Maybe love isn't a strong
enough word,' he said tiredly, 'it's more like hero worship. Wouldn't shut up about how bloody
wonderful you are. As if I need to be told. He said you gave him a potion to help with the moon …
well, that is a sure way to win him over. And I did warn you about the teacher thing.'

Hermione peered over the back of the sofa at him, he had his arm thrown across his eyes but she
could see his lips hitched up in a pleased little smile through the gap made by the crook of his
elbow.

'I'm glad you told him,' he said, 'about all of it, at least if this whole Horcrux lark goes belly-up
you'll know you did something good. Moony's never been much of an optimist, and lately … let's
just say you've found yourself a minion for l-life.' the last word was punctuated by a jaw cracking
yawn.

'I'm happy too.' Hermione said, 'That I told him, not about the minion thing, I hadn't planned on
giving him the recipe, but as long as it stays between us, at least until Hallowe'en, then I can't see a
problem.'

Sirius yawned again and nodded.

'Sirius you look terrible, why don't you just go to bed?'

'Ouch.' he said, poking his tongue out at her, before he said, 'Because I don't want to apparate just
yet, would probably fall asleep halfway through and splinch myself.'

Hermione looked at him amused, 'I meant here, idiot. I don't know why you bother to fall asleep on
the sofa, when we both know you'll end up in the bed in the middle of the night. You've done it
every evening for the last three weeks. I don't mind, it's a pretty big bed.'

His face was still covered by his arm but she could see the smile change to a mischievous smirk,
'Why Miss Fehr, inviting men to your bed, what would your mother say?'

'My real mother would tell me sleeping on the sofa is bad for your back,' she replied in a business-
like tone. 'Frederica on the other hand … she'd probably say something along the lines of 'you have
to try before you buy' if her relationship with Dagworth-Granger is any indication.'

Sirius mouth popped open in a comical 'O'. Hermione was rather pleased with her own cheekiness.
'Don't get any ideas Mr Black. It's your posture I'm concerned about.'

'Of course.' he muttered, as he rolled off the cushions and stumbled toward the bedroom.
'Sirius,' Hermione said, shaking his shoulder, 'Sirius, wake up. It's after nine.'

'So?' he said, burrowing deeper into the pillows and shrugging the bedspread higher, disappearing
completely into the mounds of white feathery comfort.

'So you're late for work.'

''M not going.' she could barely understand his sleepy reply through the layers of his quilt fort.

'You have too. I know you're tired but …'

Suddenly his head popped out of the soft nest, like some sleep deprived jack-in-the-box – dark hair
totally awry, falling into his eyes and poking out at odd angles and he said, 'I've got the day off,'
then collapsed back onto the pillow with a heavy flump that made the headboard rattle. But his eyes
were still open, she gave him a confused look. 'I may have told a wee porky,' he mumbled, 'Moody
thinks we have some Horcrux stuff to do today. But honestly I just needed a day away from that
place. You don't mind do you?'

'Why would I mind?' Hermione asked, 'I've been bored out of my head waiting for you to save the
world.' She was pleased that he was actually going to get a break. Already the red rimming his eyes
was gone, and despite being sleep muddled, he looked more alert than she had seen him for a
week. 'Not long to go now.'

'Fifty nine.' he said, wriggling about, trying to right his bank of pillows and bedspread that had
been disarranged when he'd moved.

'Fifty nine?'

'Days, fifty nine days til Hallowe'en.' He elaborated.

'You're counting? That's a very … er … me thing to do.'

'Yes.' he laughed softly, 'You're a terrible influence on me, and anyway I'm only counting because
that's when I have to give up this insanely comfortable bed.'

'Good to know you have your priorities in order.' Hermione said, chuckling and sitting up.

'Where are you going?'

'To the loo.' she answered, still laughing. 'Is that okay with you?'

He buried his face in the pillow again and waved her away, before saying in a heavily muffled
voice, 'Come back though, I feel like we haven't talked in weeks. I can hardly remember our
conversations most nights, bloody Pollux and his bloody whiskey, and since you woke me up …
you owe me.'

When she returned from the bathroom Sirius was snoring once more. She assumed it was him
anyway. She could see nothing except the bundled mass of his duvet fortress, and a tuft of black
hair spread on the pillow. Deciding that sleep was a far more appropriate use of his day off than
talking rubbish with her, she showered and dressed, and when he was still dead to the word at ten
o'clock she thought she would go and fetch breakfast to placate his undoubtedly annoyed reaction
when he finally woke. Re-entering her room armed with croissants and real coffee half an hour
later, she was surprised to find him sitting up in bed, reading.

'And where have you been?' he asked, looking sternly at her over his book as though she was a
teenager getting in late after curfew. She held up the food in defence. 'Ah,' he said, 'the only excuse
I would have accepted.'

'What are you reading?' Hermione asked from the doorway, more shocked than she would have
admitted that he was reading at all.

He flipped the book over to look at the cover and winced. '"A Young Witch's Guide to Decorum
and Suitable Conversation" apparently.' he tossed it aside as she laughed. 'To be honest,' he said, 'it
was a clever ruse. I didn't want you to know I'd been lying here pining for your return.' He sighed
dramatically with the back of his hand to his forehead.

Hermione snickered, 'I would point out that a ruse – no matter how clever – is nullified when you
tell the subject of your rusing that it was a ruse.'

'I'll keep that in mind.' he said as he started to laugh, 'Now woman, what have you bought me for
breakfast?'

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly, 'Nothing if you're going to be like that.'

His laughter didn't falter as he said, 'I'm dreadfully sorry Madam.'

'You seem to be in a better mood this morning.' Hermione said, as she came to sit on the wide bed,
folding her legs beneath her and handing him one of the coffees.

'It's a wonder what ten hours sleep can do for a bloke, mmm and coffee.' He added, after taking a
sip from the take-away cup. 'I don't care what anyone says. Muggles kick-arse at coffee.'

'That they do,' Hermione agreed. 'and here,' she said, dropping his paper-bagged croissant onto his
lap, 'sustenance.'

'Moony can shove off,' Sirius said as he set about devouring the food. 'I will be you're one and only
dedicated follower for life.'

She smiled at his happiness. She really had missed this mad Sirius, she would be quite sad to leave
him behind. She wondered what it would be like when she went back, if he would want to be her
friend like this again, or if having watched her grow up would have changed his view of her. She
hoped not, he would probably be married, or have children, or both. That would be strange. Or he
might still be the same, the eternal bachelor, godfathering Harry and enjoying his own life.

Suddenly he snapped his fingers in front of her face, she jerked back, 'What?' she asked, blinking.

'Um, I know I'm devilishly handsome, and quite rugged this morning since I haven't had a shave in
two days, but there's no need to stare. Did you even hear what I said?' He was smirking at her, that
wicked glint in his eyes again.

'I wasn't staring,' Hermione huffed, 'I was thinking, you just happened to be in the way, and no, I
didn't hear you, deep in thought as I was.'

'Denial.' Sirius said, shaking his head as he drained the last of his coffee. 'I said, we're going to
dinner at Grimmauld on Saturday, Mother's invited Cissy and Ludicrous too – slimy git – and quite
a few others as well.' He made a face and rolled his eyes, 'Can't wait.'

'Alright,' Hermione nodded, 'Only eight more weeks of this crap,' she said consolingly, 'then you
never have to see them again. How's the progression with the vault going? Any chance they'll let
you go alone soon?'
'I think so, but I'll still have to do that a few times.' Sirius said thoughtfully, 'I know we're cutting it
pretty close but I'd rather try this way, I kind of want to get out of this without them knowing it was
all a sham. I mean, it's not like I want their approval or anything.' he added hastily, when Hermione
looked at him in consternation, 'But I can't help thinking how as head of the family, proper head –
not estranged-come-back-for-the-money head – I could actually do some good after Voldemort is
gone.'

'Good lord Sirius.' Hermione reached out and put her hand on his forehead, 'Are you okay? … you
don't feel like you have a fever … shall I call the Healer?'

He laughed sheepishly and swatted her hand away. 'Shut up.'

There was a pink tinge to his cheeks and Hermione felt a little guilty for making fun of him. He
was right after all; Sirius could make a difference, with the right connections and the family gold
behind him, he could have a lot of influence on the Ministry.

'I think that's very admirable.' she said. 'Fix the name of Black rather than run away from it?'

He cleared his throat, still looking embarrassed. 'Something like that.' he mumbled. He leaned over
the edge of the bed and snared his jacket from the night before off the carpet, digging into one of
the pockets he pulled out a pouch and tossed across the bed to her.

'What's this?' she asked, opening it and looking inside – it was full of Galleons.

'Is for you to buy another dress. I won't be able to come, so you'll have to shop alone.'

'Really? I thought you didn't want me wandering about on my own?' Hermione asked confused by
his overprotective mixed messages.

'Well it won't be wandering will it?' Sirius said decisively, 'Hotel, Leaky Cauldron, robe makers –
back to the Leaky then here again. I guess you could owl-order one … but that seems a bit unusual.
And if you go in the middle of the day, when it's really busy you should be safe. It's formal attire,
so get something ridiculously fashionable.'

'Formal?' Hermione said cautiously, 'For dinner?

'Er … well, it might be more of a party,' Sirius admitted, 'it's the Autumn Gala. Mother throws it
every year, first weekend of September.'

Hermione blanched, 'Gala? As in dancing and evening gowns?'

'Yes?' Sirius said in trepidation, edging away from her on the mattress. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you
sooner, you should still have time to find something to wear.'

Hermione goggled at him blankly for a second, before snapping, ' Something to wear? I don't give a
shit what I wear Sirius, who will be there? I haven't done any research, I can't really dance either,
something a Fehr would surely be able to do. Will there be any of Dagworth-Grangers extended
family there? He has three great-nieces twice removed still living, what will I say to them?'

Sirius was shrinking away from her as she grew more irate.

'How long have you known about this? I've sat around doing nothing when I could have been
learning about all the guests. How many people will be there? Where are they from? It's all
purebloods I assume.' Hermione let out a huff of frustration. 'Sorry,' she said, 'but you could have
bloody warned me.'
'I didn't think … I am sorry Hermione, but I've had a lot going on – in case you didn't notice.' he
looked annoyed.

Hermione realised she may have overreacted slightly. Sirius was doing everything at the moment.
'Sorry,' she said again, more quietly this time, patting his knee though the bedspread. 'I'm so
nervous about getting that stupid cup, I feel like I'm just sitting around, and then you turn up every
night looking like death warmed up and I feel guilty that I can't help.'

He covered her hand with his own, 'Never mind,' he said soberly, 'Only fifty nine days to go.'

A loud tapping at the door to the balcony echoed from out in the sitting room, interrupting their
pensive moment. Sirius looked at her, 'Who's that?' but he'd grabbed his wand and flung the covers
back before she could answer.

'It will be Remus.' she said, following him out of the bedroom, 'He promised to bring me some
more books, and we were going to make a plan to get our hands on some of the ingredients for the
potion.'

Sirius's shoulders relaxed when he saw that it was indeed Remus. The werewolf on the other side
of the glass looked surprised, but pleased to see Sirius there in the middle of a week day, 'Padfoot,'
he said happily, 'Skiving off work are we?'

'Don't tell Moody.' Sirius said grinning.

Hermione came to the door too, 'Remus,' she asked, 'what did I rub on your face last time I saw
you?'

Sirius glanced down at her, a small mocking smile on his lips, 'You really wouldn't want to take
that out of context.'

She rolled her eyes as Remus answered promptly from the other side of the glass, 'Bruise Remover
from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. We think alike.' he said, before asking, 'Why did I say I'd
have to remember your healing skills?'

Hermione smiled, 'Because there are less forms to fill in here, than at St Mungo's.'

Sirius was laughing, 'Don't open the door Hermione! He's an imposter!' He threw his arm out in
front of the glass, 'Moony loves forms, he lives for paperwork!'

Hermione ignored him, shoving him aside to let Remus in.

'Just because I don't whinge about it constantly Padfoot,' Remus said as he crossed to the table,
'doesn't mean I love doing it, some of us just put up with things'. He lifted the flap on his shoulder
bag and dumped a huge pile of books on the dining table, 'Here you go Hermione, reading material
as promised.'

'My hero.' Hermione said, going to look at the selection.

'So what are you doing wagging work Pads?' Remus asked, 'I didn't think Moody believed in sick
days.'

'He doesn't. I told him we had Horcrux stuff to do, it's a bit naughty but hell, it was either that or
snap and murder every one of those smug gits in my office. I figured I'd take the high road for
once.'
Remus laughed again, 'Good for you. I've got to say mate, you look like shit, a day off was
probably deserved.'

'He only just woke up.' Hermione said distractedly from behind the book mountain. 'You should go
and wash up Sirius, while Remus and I get started on this list. You'll be bored anyway.' she knew
Remus only had an hour before he had to get back to his Order duties and if he and Sirius stood
around talking they wouldn't get anything done.

'I think she's trying to tell me to get out of the way so you too can enjoy some quality swotty time.'
Sirius said conspiratorially behind his hand to Remus.

'I think you might be on to something there Pads.' Remus replied seriously.

While Sirius was in the shower, Hermione collected her personal notebook from her surprisingly
unorganised armchair filing system, and sat with Remus at the dining table. Remus had pushed the
collection of books to one side.

'I've made some notations,' he said, showing her his journal, 'most of it will be okay, it's going to be
expensive though, I'm not sure if I could afford it every month, I was thinking I might limit it to
winter use, the nights are so long it's always worse then.'

Hermione nodded, 'I thought it might be difficult, I wondered if Dumbledore might help you.'

Remus shrugged, 'We'll just have to wait and see, there are a few things we need that are hard to
come by, Bolivian Swamp-mellow and Wyvern Fang are rare, but not impossible. I bought most of
the other ingredients over the weekend, just a few more to go.' He smiled at her, 'I'm so grateful
you did this, you know.' he said quietly.

'So am I,' Hermione said, 'that's what Sirius said last night – that if anything else, at least
something good has come of my being here.'

'Last night?' Remus asked, distracted from the potion ingredients, 'Did he sleep here?'

'Er … yes, he normally does.' Hermione said, she'd assumed Remus knew already.

'Normally?' He sounded concerned, it didn't take Hermione long to figure out why. Remus was a
worrier. He wouldn't want Sirius, or Hermione for that matter, distracted from their task when so
much was at stake, even if it was a ridiculous notion.

They may have kissed a month ago, but nothing had really changed between them since. Hermione
had tacked it up to a triumphant, giddy moment of success - brought on by retrieval of the diary,
too much booze and the lack of other lips available. She knew Sirius was a promiscuous fellow,
and she had come to the conclusion that the few unusual reactions and odd looks she had noticed
directed at her, were nothing more than pent up, excess flirt energy he had to let out somewhere
because he wasn't sleeping around anymore. And other than his work colleagues, mother and
grandfather, Hermione was the only available option. She wondered when she had become so blasé
about such things. She was quite proud of herself for not obsessing over it.

'Well yes, for the last few weeks, it's not a big deal Remus.' she said, trying to put his mind at ease.
'He's always so tired when he gets here, what's the point in sending him away? And it is possible
for two people to sleep in the same bed and actually just sleep. If that's what you're thinking.'

He smiled and shrugged, 'You say you know Sirius, so you tell me, do you really think it hasn't
crossed his mind?'
'Honestly?' she said, 'He's like a zombie at the moment, I don't think anything at all crosses his
mind.'

'That might be true,' Remus said with a chuckle, 'but don't blame me when you wake up with a
giant black dog humping your leg.'

Hermione snorted in undignified amusement as the insane picture popped into her mind, she began
to giggle and Remus joined in. Sirius's re-entry to the room couldn't have been more poorly timed
if he tried.

'Hermione have you seen my –'

His messy, towel dried hair and shirtless condition should probably have inspired a different
reaction from Hermione, but instead it just sparked another round of uncontrollable giggles from
both her and Remus.

'What?' he asked, slightly agitated as he looked down at his bare chest, then muttered, 'A round of
applause would be more appropriate,' as he went back into the bedroom to look for his misplaced t-
shirt.

'Oh dear.' Remus said, stifling another bout of laughter, 'He'll be right pissy all day now.'

'He'll live.' said Hermione with a slight hiccough, 'So what do you want to do about these?' she
pointed to the list in front of them. 'Sirius gave me some gold to get a dress for the damn gala thing
this weekend. I'll donate whatever is left over to the Remus Keeps His Sanity Fund if you like. I'm
sure Sirius won't mind.'

'You say that now,' Remus said, the grin resurfacing, 'I just laughed at his manly body. He
probably won't talk to me for a week. But thanks, I'll let you know, I have enough for a test run at
least, and Lily is really gifted. She won't need back up ingredients. I'm going to see them tomorrow
for Friday night dinner before the meeting, so I'll talk to her about it then. I'd really like to give it a
go this coming full, but I'll have to start taking it on Monday if I do.'

'It only has to brew overnight,' Hermione said, nodding thoughtfully, looking at the little lunar
chart she had drawn up, 'so if you can get everything you need it shouldn't be a problem to start it
on Sunday night. Speaking of the Potters,' Hermione went on, 'when we were there a few weeks
ago James was worried about you.'

'I know, Padfoot told me.' Remus sighed uneasily, 'I can't believe he'd even think it. But he's going
a bit mad trapped in that house, and he has Harry to think about. Merlin, Hallowe'en can't get here
soon enough.' He shook his thick sandy hair out of his eyes and smiled, 'I should be going. Same
time next week?'

'That would be great.' Hermione said. Here was another person she was going to miss very much
when she left. But once again she hoped that he would still be a similar man in twenty years.

'I'll just go and say goodbye to Mr Wounded in there.' Remus said, as he got up from the table.

Hermione busied herself stacking the books on the shelf in the sitting room, she could hear muted
mutterings in the bedroom, cursing her own nosiness she moved closer to the door to hear.

Sirius voice was too low for her to make out, but the tone sounded like he was disagreeing with his
friend. Then Remus said, 'Well it's up to you mate. See you at the meeting tomorrow?'

She could hear Sirius properly this time. 'Yeah for sure. Prongs is coming too - will be a grand old
time.'

Then there was what sounded like Remus clapping Sirius on the shoulder and saying, 'Don't envy
you one bit Pads. Total rubbish situation. See ya tomorrow.'

Sirius's grumbling was indiscernible.

Hermione hurried to look occupied with the books as they both came out of the bedroom. Remus
gathered his things from the table, and asked in Hermione's direction, 'Gatekeeper, may I be
permitted exit?'

'You may.' she said flicking her wand at the door. 'See you next week Remus.' He closed the door
behind him and she re-activated the charm.

'So what shall we do today?' Sirius asked, as he put their breakfast wrappings in the bin next to the
bench in the kitchen.

'I don't know …' Hermione said, deciding she was far too curious to let it go she asked, 'What's a
rubbish situation?'

'Er… plenty of things.' Sirius replied quickly, his back to her still, 'Being mates with a dirty traitor
… running out of whiskey … finding out that Prongs had talked the house elves into starching all
my school shirts with itching powder – actually,' He turned to face her, a thoughtful frown creasing
his brow, 'I was relieved about that one, thought I had some life threating disease. Couldn't
understand why he thought his best mate dying was so funny.'

'No,' Hermione said, resisting the urge to laugh, 'Remus just said he didn't envy you for the rubbish
situation.'

'Eavesdropping now is it?' he said, looking apprehensive, 'Don't worry, it's just life in general at the
moment, you know what he's like. Worry-wart. Thinks I'm pushing myself to hard. Didn't want to
say anything to you, since you and him have the same character flaws; book addiction and
worrying, such boring hobbies.'

'Oh right.' Hermione muttered, feeling guilty again. She hated that she was no use at the moment,
this was supposed to be her mission after all.

'So what do you want to do today?' he asked, ignoring the downcast expression on her face.

'Well … It's not like we can go out can we?' She said, trying to think of something that would hold
his attention for longer than ten minutes, 'Because then Moody will know you lied, but I've got
some wine … and cards.' Alcohol and gambling, that should keep him happy, she thought.

Sirius's face spread into a wide grin. 'Brilliant, I've been wanting a rematch for weeks. Hope you've
still got that gold Granger – I'll be taking it back.'
 Dresses, Dancing and Death

4th September

Dearest Daughter,

I am happy to tell you we will be seeing each other much sooner than we anticipated. The
magnanimous Walburga Black has been kind enough to invite me to the annual Autumn Gala and
with a rearranging of my schedule I have found enough time to be able to attend.

I am looking forward to seeing you once again as I do not think I have missed you so much since
your school days. I will be arriving in London on the 5th and your uncle has seen fit to ask me to
meet with several acquaintances' on his behalf while I'm there, so I will stay for the week.

The package accompanying this letter is something of an early birthday present for you. I was in
Milan on business last week and when I received the Gala invitation I couldn't resist. I do hope
you're not too old to let your poor mother indulge in dressing you up.

Much love,

Your Mother

Hermione smiled to herself as she refolded the letter. This remarkable woman was the reason they
had been so successful in their goals of Horcrux removal so far. She was feeling rather nervous at
the idea of meeting her. Hermione hoped she would live up to Frederica's expectations, because she
owed her so much. This letter was the first direct contact that Hermione had had from the woman.
She knew the letter was written in such a way in case of interception, but the familiarity of it
relaxed her. Hermione had been expecting the letter, Dumbledore had told her Frederica would be
coming to England when Hermione had seen him the previous evening.

Hermione and Sirius had spent the day before playing cards drinking tea and the occasional glass
of wine and talking. Sirius had regained his usual sense of humour and self after a proper night's
sleep and the prospect of a day to himself. It had been very enjoyable for both of them to briefly
forget about the cup, and Fiendfyre, and Dumbledore crouching behind bushes in Godrics Hollow
in, as Sirius had said, fifty nine days' time. So when the phoenix patronus had soared gracefully
into the room a little before seven that evening, and asked in Dumbledore's voice for the pair of
them to meet him at the Hogshead, they had both been quite disappointed to return to reality.

*3rd September*

'Welcome Hermione, Sirius,' Dumbledore said happily as they entered the basement room of the
pub.

'What's wrong Dumbledore?' Sirius asked immediately, he was still standing near the door he had
just closed behind them.

Hermione took a seat at the long wooden table, worried that the Professor was about to try and
involve her in Order business again.

'Many things are wrong Sirius,' Dumbledore said gravely, 'you however, are lucky enough not to
be part of them at the moment. I have received communication from Frederica that your mother has
invited her to the soirée at Grimmauld Place on Saturday evening.'
Sirius didn't look nearly surprised enough about this in Hermione's opinion, 'Er … yeah,' Sirius
said, 'she mentioned she was going to ask her,' he frowned slightly in Dumbledore's direction,
'Lady Fehr isn't going to come though right? I mean, she's an important woman, I thought she'd use
her dignitary role as an excuse to get out of it, lucky for some I guess.'

'Actually, she has decided that it would be a good way to reinforce your cover.' Dumbledore said
with a smile.

'Oh no Professor!' Hermione exclaimed, 'She can't come, surely it would do the opposite, I'm
nervous enough around those people, but with her there I'll have a whole other reason to slip up. I
haven't done any preparing yet,' she glared over at Sirius, 'someone only just told me about it this
morning.'

Sirius held his hands up in defeat, 'I've said I'm sorry, what more do you want?'

Hermione just huffed as Dumbledore chortled quietly, 'Ah, Mr Black, I thought you would have
known by now not to get between this woman and her research.'

Sirius muttered something about 'learning the hard way' and Dumbledore's amusement increased,
'Incidentally, Alastor tells me you both had some task do with our mission to attend to today, I
wasn't aware anything else needed to be done, aside from gaining access to Hufflepuff's cup of
course.'

Hermione shared a guilty look with Sirius who said, 'You didn't tell Moody that did you? It was
more of a … mental health day.' Dumbledore was looking between the pair of them, amused
suspicion in his twinkling eyes. 'You know … like if I didn't have a day off I would go mental and
the health of my fellow Aurors would be at stake,' Sirius continued, 'Please don't tell him
Dumbledore, he already hates me.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'No I didn't see fit to inform him, and Sirius, he doesn't hate you, he just
thinks you have so much potential and it annoys him to see you coast along - a feeling I am very
familiar with,' Dumbledore said, giving Sirius a characteristic, headmasterly look.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably under the penetrating stare, and Hermione interrupted, trying to bring
them back to what she considered impending disaster, 'Professor, I really think you should tell
Frederica not to attend. I don't know her, how am I meant to pretend to be her daughter?'

'I'm afraid it is too late Hermione, she has already sent her reply to Mrs Black. She will arrive on
Saturday morning, I have suggested the two of you meet at your accommodation shortly after her
arrival so you may discuss topics of conversation for the evening, and get to know each other.'

'But Sir –'

'Frederica is an intelligent woman Hermione,' Dumbledore cut her off. 'She will play the role to
perfection. You are quite adept at your character now, Augusta Longbottom was completely fooled
by you, the Malfoys and the Blacks as well, there is no reason to panic.'

Resigned to the fact that she had no choice, Hermione agreed. 'Very well Professor, Sirius and I
should getting going then, I need to get up to date on some Swiss-German phrases if I'm going pull
this off.'

'And your dance steps.' Dumbledore said, as they rose from the table.

Hermione sighed, god this was more trouble than it was worth. 'Yes sir.' she said.
Sirius opened the door and Dumbledore said, 'Could I have a private word Hermione? Sirius we
won't be a minute.'

Sirius looked between the two of them and nodded, 'I'll wait for you upstairs,' he said hesitantly,
closing the door behind him.

'What is it?' Hermione asked, confused.

'It seems that you and Mr Black are getting along very well.' Dumbledore said casually.

Hermione's sense of confusion increased, 'Yes Professor, we have become quite good friends,
something I had not expected but it certainly makes everything a lot easier.'

'I see,' Dumbledore murmured, 'and you're both comfortable with that?'

'Of course Professor,' Hermione assured him, 'we spend most of our free time together, keeps our
spirits up, Sirius's especially, since he's lying to just about everyone he knows.'

'Hermione you must realise the danger of becoming attached to someone here. You will be leaving
very soon.' Dumbledore said, looking grim.

'I know that.' Hermione replied, hoping he was not suggesting what she thought he was. She'd had
enough of this topic for one day, and it was not a conversation she particularly wanted to have with
her old Headmaster. 'I hope when I get back he will still want to be my friend,' she said lightly, 'but
I guess it might be a bit odd for him.'

'Sirius is a very strong willed man,' Dumbledore said, surveying Hermione over his glasses, 'I
worry that he will not take well to losing your companionship, he seems … invested.'

For heaven's sake, Hermione thought. 'Professor we are just friends.' she said firmly. 'We both
understand that my time is limited, do you really think either of us would be foolish enough to
become invested? It's really not like that at all, I've always had males as my closest friends, I relate
to them better for some reason.'

'That maybe the case,' Dumbledore said carefully, 'but I've never known Sirius to have female
friends. He is very protective of you.'

'Yes Sir,' Hermione said through her teeth, 'because we are friends – and because, if something
happens to me this whole thing will turn to custard, so don't worry. I think the reward of saving
everything he cares about will more than compensate for me leaving. He's only known me for
three months after all.' she forced a smile onto her face. 'Now I really should go if I'm going to
learn German, memorise a guest list and refresh my dancing skills in two days.'

Dumbledore nodded, seeming not to notice Hermione's frustration, 'Very well, good luck, I will get
Mr Lupin to escort Frederica to you on Saturday morning, I think it best if Sirius doesn't meet her
until the Gala so he can react naturally.'

'Good idea Sir,' Hermione said as she got to her feet, keen to get moving, 'Goodnight.'

When Hermione found Sirius in the crowded taproom talking quietly with Alberforth, she was still
mulling over the Headmasters warning. He must have been talking to Remus. It wasn't like
Dumbledore spent enough time around them to see their friendship for himself. And his words,
while not a blunt as Remus's had been, were certainly along the same lines.

'What did he want?' Sirius asked, after he'd nodded a goodbye to the barman.
'Oh it was silly,' she said, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, 'he thought we were getting too
close, why can't people understand that it's possible for men and women to actually be friends with
each other?'

Sirius glanced at her, 'Er …'

'I mean, I know you have a bit of a … um … reputation, but really – it's not like we don't have
bigger things to think about.'

'That's right,' he said distractedly, sidestepping a couple of drunken Warlocks who had their arms
slung about each other's shoulders, and were weaving unsteadily towards the bar.

As Hermione and Sirius left the pub to disapparate Sirius said suddenly, 'People? His eyes had
snapped to her, and his forehead furrowed, 'As in more than just Dumbledore?'

'Yeah,' Hermione said, 'Remus said something this morning – I thought he knew you slept at mine
most of the time and he got the wrong end of the stick, but don't worry I set him straight.' She
assured him, 'I think he must have mentioned something to Dumbledore though, it seems too much
of a coincidence.'

'Yeah … it does.' Sirius said slowly.

Hermione looked up at him, 'Don't be cross with him Sirius, it's kind of understandable from his
point of view, what would your immediate assumption be if you found out Remus was sleeping in
the same bed as girl every night?'

'That's not a very good example,' Sirius said, starting to laugh as he took her hand to disapparate.
'You see, Moony is insanely honourable, whereas I … well,' an impish grin spread across his lips
and he shrugged his shoulders, 'like you say … reputation.' He chuckled and turned on the spot
pulling her with him.

When they landed on her balcony Sirius was still grinning. He continued talking as though there
had been no interruption, 'Moony shouldn't be saying things like that to Dumbledore though, it's
really none of his business, what did he actually say to you?'

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the memory, 'He said that I can't blame him if I wake up with
a big black dog humping my leg.'

Sirius snorted, 'Bloody wolf,' he shook his head, and then a thought seem to strike him, 'Is that why
you two were laughing at me this morning?' Hermione nodded, unable to form words through her
mounting giggles. 'Oh right.' He said, looking amused, 'So Dumbley said you're to brush up on
your dancing skills, I'll be busy til Saturday evening so we should do that tonight.'

'Okay,' Hermione said, controlling herself and unlocking the door.

It turned out Hermione could dance quite well when being guided by someone who knew what
they were doing, and Sirius certainly seemed to. He led her in several formal routines that she
vaguely remembered, though she hadn't had need to dance properly in many years – aside from the
occasional wedding. They'd moved the furniture in the sitting room aside and he twirled her
expertly around. One hand on her waist, the other held in his, all the while keeping a very polite
space between them. 'I think you'll do just fine.' he said after an hour of practicing, pointing his
wand at the radio he had tuned to some scratchy sounding concert station, and lowering the
volume.

'You're very good.' Hermione said, impressed.

'Why thank you Madam.' Sirius said with an ironic bow, 'we learnt to dance as kids, I hated it. But
then, when it comes to getting the girls,' he winked, 'nothing impresses them more than a bloke
who's confident in his footwork, so I couldn't regret the lessons too much.'

4th September

The following morning, after Sirius left for the Ministry (looking quite disgruntled that his one day
holiday was over) the letter from Frederica arrived. Accompanying it was a large box containing
her early birthday present; she was shocked that the owl that delivered it hadn't collapsed with
exhaustion.

It was a wide, flat package. Rather heavy too, definitely when carried all the way from Switzerland.
It was quite funny considering it really was her birthday in a couple of weeks. She smiled again as
she put the letter aside. September 19th 1981, her second birthday, and her twenty-second as it
turned out, how strange.

Hermione lifted the lid on the box and moved aside the layers of tissue paper that hid the contents
from view. She gasped, the bodice of a beautiful dress was visible, deep royal blue silk with an
embroidered pattern of narrow swirling tendrils in black and silver, starting at the hip and crossing
the fabric on a diagonal to curl almost like smoke at the bust line. It was a good thing she liked
blue, she thought. It seemed to be the colour people liked to dress her in.

As she pulled the dress from the box her smile grew so wide it almost hurt, the garment was
magnificent. The soft flowing silk hung in perfectly designed folds, the thin swirling pattern
covered the rest of the gown too – Noticeable only when she moved the dress and sections of
material caught the light. Deciding she couldn't possibly wait to try this masterpiece on, Hermione
carried to the bedroom and slipped into it.

She stood admiring her reflection for much longer than she had ever looked in a mirror before.
Possibly longer than all the times she had looked in a mirror combined since arriving here.

The long mirror on the wardrobe door showed her the glorious way the silk hung. The dress was
strapless and she bent forward and shimmied about to check the security of her top half, not being
the most well-endowed of women Hermione was pleased to see the tiniest hint of cleavage,
although she realised when she stood up again that it was not visible at all when she was upright.
But it didn't matter, this was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn, it fit so well and the
lightness of the silk meant she was able to breathe comfortably. She wondered for a moment if it
was magic, surely nothing that looked this amazing could actually be comfortable. That broke all
rules of feminine attire she was aware of.

Reluctant though Hermione was to take it off and put her jeans and slightly worn cardigan back on,
she did. She looked longingly at the dress as it hung in the wardrobe, would it be so bad to wear it
around the hotel room for the rest of the day? Yes. She thought. No doubt she would spill tea
down it or something else equally horrific. Instead, she spent the day practicing German phrases,
and revising pureblood family trees. Checking up on the dress every hour or so to make sure no
harm was coming to it in the deceptively dangerous wardrobe.

'Black, in my office now.' Moody's voice suddenly growled from behind Sirius.

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin. How anyone could move so quietly on a sodding wooden leg
was beyond him. It probably didn't help that he'd been sitting at his desk in a trance of boredom,
quill hovering over a map of London - with no memory of what he was supposed to be doing,
because he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Hermione's face the previous afternoon when
he'd finally - after three and a half hours of playing - regained all his lost poker gold from her. Was
it possible to gloat in daydreams? He wondered. It certainly seemed that way. It was kind of
pointless considering he'd given her at least twice as much to buy a dress for the thing at
Grimmauld Place tomorrow night. But he didn't let that get in the way of his imagined victory
dance.

He pushed himself away from his desk, and followed Moody's retreating figure. Wondering what
on earth he was supposed to have done this time.

'Right Black, you and me are going on a little trip this afternoon.' Moody said, the minute Sirius
had closed the door behind him.

Merlin that sounded ominous, Sirius thought, Head-man-of-organised-crime-ring-ominous. 'We

are?' he asked hesitantly.

'Yes, Rosier and a couple of mates have been spotted up in Birmingham, you and I are going to
bring them home to London.'

'Really?' Sirius tried very hard to ignore the excitement that stirred in him at the idea of doing
something. The mission with Hermione was exceedingly dull at the moment – other than
convincing his grandfather that he was trustworthy enough to attend to the banking alone, all he
was doing was working, then going directly to Grimmauld Place to eat dinner with Walburga and
Pollux, and then sitting about in the library with one, or both of them talking politics - and family
gossip, if his mother was present – being forced to match his grandfather drink for drink until it
was late. All well and good for Pollux, who didn't then have to get up for a briefing at seven thirty.

Sirius would leave Grimmauld Place with a slightly muddled head and apparate to Hermione's,
have half a cup of tea, before he fell asleep in it, and at some point during the night wake up with a
numb arm, or leg, or both, and stumble into the bedroom.

But he couldn't not go to Hermione's. He was worried, anyone could apparate onto that balcony.
He knew her protective charms were strong – he was yet to figure out a way to break them, even
though he tried most mornings when she was in the shower, it was his own little secret challenge.
He knew it would annoy her no-end if he figured it out, and that thought made all the effort totally
worth it. At least now I get to sleep in the bed all night he thought, though that brought along its
own string of problems. Ignore it. Fifty eight days.

But as strong as her locking and concealment charms were, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was
just safer for them to be in the same place as often as possible. So, with his current boredom, the
idea of doing a little Death Eater hunting was extremely appealing. Much more so than going back
to the stupid map of London. Attack patterns! that's what he was supposed to be doing with it! Now
he remembered, either way, dull dull dull.

'You still with me Black?'

Sirius grunted, 'Sorry Moody, what was that?'

Moody tapped his cane against the desk leg impatiently. 'I said you're the only one I can take, the
others are tied up with the raid at the docklands, or are useless.'

'Moody … are you suggesting I'm not useless?'

Moody growled, 'You're not useless Black – you're the biggest pain in the arse I've ever dealt with,
but you're handy with a wand. This shouldn't be too much trouble, I know you've got your other
stuff going on and need to be kept safe, but hell – bugger me if I'm going to let a Death Eater get
away.'

'Moody old man, don't make promises you can't keep.' Sirius said, winking at his boss. 'Didn't
Carrow get away just last month?'

Sirius knew it was totally inappropriate behaviour, but Moody just walked right into them, and it
was far too enjoyable to annoy him. Well it had been – until he'd got that bloody cane, Sirius
thought, after Moody had swung it swiftly in a shallow arc under the desk between them and
caught Sirius's shin on a sharp and painful angle.

It was cold, raining and blustery in Birmingham that early afternoon, Sirius and Moody had found
Evan Rosier, Harvey Wilkes and a third man wearing a cloak and hood to hide his face, within half
an hour. Moody's source had told him that the two Death Eaters had been seen in a street not far
from the centre of the city, talking with another man the informer didn't know. They found them
two streets over, huddled under the eaves of an abandoned hardware shop, pouring over what Sirius
thought was a map. The street was a dead end, and quite deserted. The local muggles seemed
unwilling to go out in the downpour.

'Okay Black,' Moody whispered as he took down his hood so they would recognise him. Sirius and
Moody were standing in a deep doorway, with all the appearance of two blokes trying to keep out
of the rain, 'I'll apparate in right next to them – hopefully the shock of my ugly mug will scare them
enough to come quietly. You cast the anti-disap, and keep your face hidden, don't want your other
stuff jeopardised by this, if they give me any trouble come in on my six – code word is Quaffle.'

'Got it.' Sirius said, confidently.

It wasn't Moody's unappealing visage that would scare the Death Eaters, it was his reputation. He
tried very hard to bring culprits in alive. It didn't always work, but Sirius admired the sentiment.
And being taking in by Moody, was preferable to a messy death at the hands of other, less
scrupulous Aurors, so most complied.

Sirius's blood was pounding through him in a way nothing but this could bring – the idea that they
were doing their job, rounding up the evil wankers who were making everyone's lives hell. Fifty
eight days or not, it was so good to feel like he was achieving something.

'One minute Black,' Moody reiterated, 'watch for trouble.'

'Got it.' Sirius said again.

Moody vanished with a pop and Sirius saw him reappear at Wilkes's elbow almost instantly. Sirius
cast the anti-disapparation spell, he could still go to Moody's aid, but the Death Eaters couldn't get
away.

Sirius couldn't hear from this distance, but he saw the man recoil at the sudden appearance of the
Ministry's most competent Auror, before he drew his wand. The cloaked one went down to
Moody's first spell like a marionette with its stings cut, But Rosier had an entirely different
reaction. Evan Rosier drew his wand with his left hand while sending his right fist directly into
Moody's face, the Auror stumbled and it was enough for Sirius.

He concentrated on the point right behind Moody and spun on the spot.

When the brief darkness lifted, he said, 'Quaffle,' over Moody's shoulder, and stunned Wilkes in
the same breath, he turned back to catch sight of Moody's wand flashing; Rosier was a proficient
dueller.

The duo were consumed by the fight, Sirius took aim at Rosier but the Death Eater was making the
most of Moody's slightly impaired movement, darting around him preventing Sirius from getting a
clear shot. Moody might not have been as fast on his feet, but his wand arm was in fine working
order, sending off spells rapidly….

Then everything went black.

'Sorry about that, Black.' Moody's gravelly voice nudged at his brain. 'Friendly fire.'

Sirius opened his eyes slowly, he was lying on the wet paved footpath, rain falling on his face with
Alastor Moody crouching over him, the older Aurors face was mangled and covered in blood. He
was holding the edge of his cloak to his nose.

Sirius shook his head experimentally, he was a bit dizzy but otherwise fine. He hauled himself into
a sitting position, there were three bodies not far from him, the hooded one and Wilkes still
stunned, but Rosier was quite obviously dead.

'Moody!' Sirius said, shocked as he took in the Aurors face properly for the first time, half his nose
was missing. Sirius swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the sight.

'I had no choice,' Moody said. His eyes were on Rosier's corpse, obviously taking Sirius's
exclamation for horror at his actions – instead of the concern for his boss it really was. 'He blocked
my stunner and it hit you – then the bastard got my face with a severing hex. He wasn't going to
come along, I had to kill him.'

'Moody old man, course you did.' Sirius reassured him, 'Sorry I wasn't any help.'

'You got Wilkes, that was enough.' Moody said gruffly, 'Now, my nose hurts like the dickens. Help
me bring this lot back to the Ministry, then I'll go and get patched up.'

Sirius got to his feet, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd not really done anything useful, and
resentful at the fact that Moody was off to get his nose fixed, because it meant that Sirius would be
lumped with the paperwork – but really, Moody would probably have made him do it anyway. At
least they got the Death Eaters.
 Ladies Fehr

5th September

Lady Frederica Fehr turned out to be something of a surprise to Hermione. She knew her pseudo-
mother had been in a relationship for thirty years with Dagworth-Granger, and had been friends
with Dumbledore for even longer, so Hermione had imagined her to be well into her sunset years.

However, when she had arrived with Remus on the little balcony, Hermione thought she looked
quite young; there was a decent amount of crinkling at the corners of her hazel eyes and the crease
of her lips when she smiled at Hermione through the glass door, and the sides of her wavy chestnut
hair were more white than brown – the grey hairs glimmered brightly in the morning sun, but she
held herself with the energy of a much younger woman, her stylish robes showing off a curvy
mature figure.

'What film did we watch together on that night we played poker?' Remus asked when Hermione
came to the door, she thought Remus looked a little stressed out, but she couldn't figure out why.

She frowned slightly as she answered, 'Food of the Gods, and it was awful.' Perhaps being in the
company of someone so influential unsettled him... Although Hermione didn't think such a thing
would bother Remus. 'What do I call our covert work together?' she asked him.

Hermione's confusion deepened as Remus jumped and blushed profusely before answering, 'The
Keep Remus Sane Project,' Lady Frederica had leaned close to him and murmured something into
his ear.

Hermione unlocked the door and said, 'Lady Fehr, it is wonderful to meet you, I'm Hermione,
thank you so much for helping us.'

Frederica gave her a wide smile and said in a softly accented voice, 'Et ez lovely to meet you, but
you must call me Mami or Mueti. I think et best we get into character.' She clapped her hands
together, her eyes shining in enthusiasm. 'I'm going call you Schatz, et means treasure, I think, my
Mueti always called me Schatz.

'You're right … Mami.' Hermione said, a little self-consciously. 'Hi Remus.' she added.

'Hey,' he said, his cheeks were still pink. 'How are you?'

'I'm dead nervous about tonight actually.' Hermione confided, then she looked at Frederica, 'It was
so kind of you to do so much for us. I'm really overwhelmed.'

'Et ez no trouble. I have always wanted a daughter … And to help save ze world.' she added with a
tinkling laugh. 'Albus tells me many wonderful things about you. I am to be very proud I think.
You also are very lucky to have such handsome friends,' she reached out and pinched Remus
cheek. 'A plus I had not thought of.'

Hermione barely controlled a giggle at the resigned look on his face. The blushing seemed to be
explained. Would you like a drink Lady F– Mami?' Hermione corrected herself.

'Very much. There ez a lot to talk about, schooling and ze family, and you must tell me of anything
you have already said, I would freshen up first though.'

'Of course,' said Hermione 'the bathroom is just through there.' she indicated the door. 'Remus and I
will make some tea.'

Remus's sigh of relief as she closed the door to the bathroom made Hermione chuckle. He rubbed
at his cheek. 'You know how Padfoot says you're the girl version of me?' he asked in an undertone.
'Well I think we just found his female counterpart. I've never felt so objectified in all my life.' He
was laughing quietly. 'She's lovely – but good grief those fingers hurt.' He rubbed at his backside.

Hermione stuffed her fist in her mouth in an effort to keep her peel of laughter silent. 'Poor Remus,'
she said.

'God wait til she meets Sirius,' he said, an evil looking grin appearing on his face. 'If she thinks I'm
pretty – he'll be pinched black and blue.'

Hermione had just about doubled over by this point, sides aching from the pressure of contained
laughter. Dear lord. What had they gotten themselves into?

'Right,' Hermione said, breathing deeply 'You,' she pointed at Remus, 'need to go. Because this is
important, and every time I look at you all I can see is your adorable pink cheeks and I can't stop
laughing.'

He huffed, 'I'm a sodding terrifying werewolf. Don't call me adorable. But you're right, she's going
to break the skin soon enough.'

Just then Frederica exited the bathroom, 'This ez a cosy apartment,' she said to Hermione. 'et must
be very useful to be en the heart of the city.'

'Yes, it's lovely.' Hermione answered, mouth working to keep her giggles from bubbling out, her
voice sounding odd and constrained.

'Lady Fehr?' Remus said, 'I'm going now. I need to get back to work. It was nice to meet you.
You're doing a wonderful thing.'

'Thank you for your time Remus. You make a fine escort. I would speak with you again this week
ef you have some time. Albus tells me you have a fine mind for law.'

Remus blushed again - but this time from pleasure, rather than pinch-pain. 'Thank you Lady Fehr.
Dumbledore can find me when you have time, I'll see you then.'

'Good day Remus.' she said, kissing him on the still flushed cheek.

With Remus gone, Hermione and Frederica sat in the sitting room, sharing a pot of tea and some
little Carac treats that the Swiss woman had brought with her, the small brightly topped chocolate
pies were delicious – Hermione wondered what the obsession was on the continent with
Technicolor food.

Hermione found Frederica to be very engaging, interested in everything from Hermione's mission
here, (she didn't know about the Horcruxes - she just knew that the Blacks had something to do
with bringing down Voldemort.) To Hermione's school work, her favourite topics, how she had
fixed a Timeturner to bring her back, and why she would do such a thing.

She also asked for details of the relationship with Sirius - the false one and the real one. She needed
to know of course, the fabricated time-line of their first meeting and then correspondence over the
previous winter. Dumbledore had already filled her in on Sirius' story, his disinheritance and
loathing of his family, then Hermione told her of their recent meetings with the Blacks.
Frederica at least, took her at her word that the two of them were just friends – Hermione even
mentioned her frustrating conversation with Dumbledore on Thursday evening.

The day seemed to fly by as they changed roles and Hermione had the gaps in her knowledge of the
Fehr family filled, and Frederica corrected her pronunciation of the few sentences Hermione had
drummed into her memory.

Soon it was time for them to get dressed for the gala, Hermione thanked Frederica multiple times
for the beautiful gown. Frederica brushed the comments aside, and begged Hermione to please let
her indulge her latent motherly instincts and allow her to do her hair and makeup. Hermione
acquiesced and so the two of them could be found in the well-lit bathroom, Hermione sitting on
one of the dining room chairs while Frederica fussed around her.

'How I wish I could say I gave you this hair.' Frederica said enviously, 'Et ez wonderful.'

Hermione had to restrain a scoff, 'Mami if you gave me this hair I'm afraid I wouldn't be very
happy with you.'

Frederica laughed softly. 'We always want what we do not have my Schatz. Now we must wait for
the potion to do ets work, while we do, let us finish your face.'

She turned and rummaged through her small case, a case that reminded Hermione of her own
beaded bag from all those years ago, every time she thought that surely, Frederica had pulled out
every possible beatification device possible, she would surprise her by finding some other
contraption that would make 'All ze deference.'

After an hour of primping Frederica finally said 'Finished' and Hermione got to see the end result
properly for the first time. Her eyes were darker than she would normally dare to do them, and her
skin looked unusually flawless, she had to lean closer to the mirror to see, it was very smooth and
her cheek bones shinned slightly. Her hair was back, but very loosely, the wide waves looking as
though she had just swept them back and tucked them up and under each other, but with some kind
of hair-god on her side so that it was balanced and held firmly in place. Shorter pieces falling free
in a way that seemed right, rather than irritating like normal.

Hermione decided that this gala, while a total pain in the preverbal-pinched-bum-cheek was
entirely worth it because in all her life she had never felt quite this much like a girl and yet, still
herself.

Frederica was dressed in a bronze coloured gown with dark brown edging and lace jacket, the
colours setting off her bright eyes, her hair pulled up into a French roll with a large shimmering
flower tucked into the side.

Hermione had put on her dress, and the shoes Sirius had bought her for their first foray into
Grimmauld place, there was a shawl for her bare shoulders and Frederica had taken it upon herself
to bring some more jewellery, sapphires this time, set in silver like the diamond one from the
Ausgleich Collection, and a bracelet to match.

'The first time I met Walburga,' Hermione said, as they prepared to leave, 'She thought my
necklace was from the Ausgleich Collection, I went through all my books, but couldn't find out
very much.'

'She was right.' Frederica said with a small nod, 'Et was part of a treaty settlement given to our
family en 1439 after all ze business with ze Confederacy. There were only three magical families
involved – et was at that time ze Fehr's became involved in politics. We have not left ze Ministry
since. Now we stand back, et ez much safer for ze family to help shape ze community rather than
be ze face of et.'

'Goodness,' Hermione said running a finger across the bracelet on her wrist, 'does this have history
too?'

'Not nearly as important,' Frederica said, those were given to me by my father, they were my
thirtieth birthday gift.' Frederica gave her soft laugh again, 'So still very ancient, I think.'

Hermione smiled at her. She really was a very endearing woman. 'And this?' She asked, holding out
her hand - she had the ring she had been wearing every time she was in character on her middle
finger.

'That ez one of ten family rings, ze female version of course, I think my aunt was ze last to wear et.
There are fifteen for ze men – for some reason Fehr's like to make boys. Only six of ze lady's rings
are en use at ze moment, they don't belong to anyone individually, just ze family.'

Taking her hand to trace the silver lattice with her thumb, Frederica asked her, 'Do you know what
ze crest reads?'

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'I looked it up, Wahrheit und Ehre – Truth and Honour – hardly a fitting
statement for my life at the moment, but an admirable goal.'

Frederica laughed, and patted her hand, 'Oh Schatz, my father ez telling a very similar thing to me
before he passed, that our motto was not designed to describe us, but to give us something to reach
for. Et ez nice that that idea has not been lost I think.'

'We should get going.' Hermione said, smiling.

'Et would not do to be late my Schatz,' Frederica agreed.

They left the room and Hermione locked the doors. It was chilly on the high balcony, a sharp wind
blowing in the early evening. Frederica had her case with her, as she would be staying at Hogwarts
for the week and going directly there after the Gala, and a fur stole wrapped about her shoulders.

Hermione pulled her own shawl tighter, it was hardly an appropriate barrier against the reminder
that summer was disappearing quickly. She grasped Frederica's hand and they disapparated,
appearing on the top step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Hermione knocked, and at once the locks began to grind.

'Ladies Fehr, welcome.' croaked Kreacher, when the door opened.

'Hello Kreacher.' Hermione said politely, she could hear music and voices wafting down the stairs.

'Do you have your invitation Madam?' Kreacher asked.

'Er, I didn't get one,' Hermione said, frowning.

'I have ours my Schatz.' Frederica said plucking a deep green card from her clutch, she handed it to
the elf.

He glanced at it briefly before saying, 'Welcome to The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black
Lady Fehr, follow me.'

Hermione and Frederica followed the aged elf up to the drawing room. The room had obviously
been magically expanded for the evening's event, and it looked quite welcoming in Hermione's
opinion, as this was the Autumn Gala, the room was decorated with colours of the season, gold's
and oranges, even red. Hermione was shocked that such Slytherin people would deign to put
Gryffindor colours all over the walls.

The two women stood in the doorway as Kreacher went to find Walburga, Hermione began to
point guests out to Frederica as they waited. Anita Macmillan was dancing with a man Hermione
assumed was her husband, he looked a lot like Ernie. She could see Sirius over in the far corner
sharing a joke with a broad shouldered man Hermione didn't recognise. Then another man caught
her eye, he was tall and thin with a twisted face; Antonin Dolohov. Death Eater. She scanned the
room, a young and lumpy Alecto Carrow was in deep conversation with two wizards, one turned
his head in her direction, she knew him at once; Yaxley. Good god, the place was crawling with
them.

Walburga came coasting gracefully toward them, 'Lady Fehr,' she said as she approached, 'I am so
honoured you were able to make it. Hermione, my you look beautiful this evening.'

Hermione shook herself mentally, of course – a Pureblood party – she should have expected Death
Eaters. 'Thank you Mrs Black,' Hermione said, trying to hide her tension, 'May I present my
mother, Frederica Fehr. Mami, this is Walburga Black, Sirius's mother.' Hermione said, smiling at
Walburga.

'Lady Fehr, welcome to the Noble House of Black.' Walburga said graciously, 'I'm so glad our
children have brought us together.' Walburga leaned forward and the two women kissed cheeks.

'I am as well Mrs Black,' Frederica replied, 'my Schatz ez telling me many good things of your son.
I am eager to meet him. There has never been a young man to take my daughters heart so
thoroughly.' She added indulgently, with twitch of an eyebrow at Hermione.

'Mami!' Hermione hissed, pretending to be embarrassed.

Walburga smiled proudly, 'I believe the same can be said for Sirius, he does not talk to me of such
things, but his grandfather tells me he holds Hermione in high regard.'

'Well who wouldn't?' Said a voice Hermione had no trouble recognising, Sirius had arrived, with
Pollux at his side, both men were dressed in black, but while Sirius's dress robes were stylish in
their simple sharp lines, and totally unadorned except for a small golden lion shaped pin holding
his grey tie to his shirt – Pollux had gone to the other extreme, green and sliver embroidery edged
his lapels, his black cravat secured with a large emerald that was the same colour as the shirt
beneath.

'Hello my love.' Sirius said, curling an arm around Hermione's waist and kissing her chastely on the
lips, 'You are looking exceptionally stunning this evening.' Hermione resisted the urge to roll her
eyes, he was laying it on thick tonight. His grey eyes were dancing with laughter at the sight of her
flushed face, he didn't remove his arm as he turned his gaze to Frederica and said, 'You must be
Lady Fehr,' He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. 'Sirius Black, Madam.' He said, an
infuriatingly charming smile on his face, 'It is a pleasure to meet you.'

'The pleasure is mine dear boy.' Frederica fluttered, as her hand was released.

'Lady Fehr, this is my grandfather, Pollux Black,' Sirius said, with a sweep of his free arm.

Frederica offered her hand to Pollux he took it, but kissed her on the cheek instead, as he said
'Madam, welcome, I see now were Hermione gets her beauty, Hector was a lucky man. Please
accept my condolences on his passing.'

'Thank you Mr Black. I miss him terribly,' Frederica said solemnly, Hermione could hear the truth
in in her tone, she hoped this wasn't too hard on her.

'Would a turn on the dance floor lighten your sprits? I would enjoy making the men in the room
jealous if you were willing.' Pollux asked, he was still holding on to her hand and the corner of his
mouth was quirked up.

'Why Mr Black,' Frederica fluttered, 'Hermione and I may share our looks, but I think your
grandson and yourself are more similar en character.'

Pollux smiled, then winked at Sirius, 'He should be so lucky.'

Frederica laughed indulgently. 'A dance would be lovely, thank you Mr Black. Mrs Black we will
speak again?' she said to Walburga, 'I would be glad to know more about your family.'

Walburga nodded, looking apprehensively at her father. 'Of course Lady Fehr, and I yours.'

As Pollux lead Frederica away to the dance floor, Walburga said to Sirius, 'I will leave you two
alone, be sure to introduce Hermione to the family Sirius.'

'Yes Mother.' he said.

When Walburga had been swallowed into the crowd once more Sirius said into Hermione's ear,
'Come dance.' And without waiting for an answer, he steered her through the guests to the open
space of floor. He pulled her close as they began to revolve and whispered 'Bellatrix is here. And
about ten other bloody Death Eaters.'

'I know, I recognised some of them.' Hermione said.

'I'll have to introduce you to Bellatrix or it will seem strange, but I want to keep you clear of the
others.' She nodded as he spun her around in time with the music, 'Look over my shoulder, the two
blokes by the tapestry; ones got long black hair tied back,'

'I see them,' Hermione said, taking a quick peek, it was much easier than it would have normally
been thanks to the four inch heels she was wearing. In her usual choice of footwear the top of her
head had brushed the underside of Sirius chin the few times they had hugged.

'Ponytail is Judson, his mate is McIntyre. And,' Sirius turned again, 'to my right – the big guy with
the hat, that's Rowle.'

'Yes, I know him.' Hermione said, 'Sirius, why didn't you tell me they'd be here?'

'I didn't know.' He said anxiously, 'They turned up with Bellatrix. I think they're recruiting – I was
trying to get an idea out of Rab when you arrived.'

'Rab?' Hermione asked.

'Rabastan Lestrange, Bellatrix's brother-in-law.' Sirius clarified, 'He's on the edge, he's not branded
yet but he does work for them, he's got three little kids so I think he's reluctant to join, although he
agrees with them.'

'How do you know him so well?' Hermione was surprised that he would speak of a Riddle affiliate
with such a lack of loathing in his voice.
'I bumped into him in Diagon Alley, a few weeks ago now – before I went to Ireland, he pops in
here sometimes in the evening and has a drink with Grandfather and me. His folks don't treat him
so well. Being the spare and all.'

'Oh right.' said Hermione still shocked that Sirius would even talk to him. Let alone have him over
for a drink. 'Why haven't you mentioned him before?'

'Cause I didn't want you to get your hopes up,' Hermione looked at sirius in confusion and he added
leadingly 'you know, Lestrange ….'

'Oh right,' Hermione said again, 'But tt's not like he'll let you in the vault though is it?'

'No … but best to keep your enemies close and all that. Anyway, Rab said that lot just turned up at
Forte de Sang all dressed and ready to go, right when he and his wife were leaving. Rodolphus was
expecting them apparently.'

'You don't think they'll cause trouble?' Hermione asked quietly.

'I shouldn't think so.' Sirius mused, 'This is a sympathiser's house … or so they think.'

Just then, Pollux appeared at Sirius shoulder, 'May I cut in?'

Sirius jumped slightly. 'Of course Grandfather,' he smiled.

Frederica, who was standing next to Pollux, said to Sirius, 'I can keep you busy while my Schatz is
occupied.'

Hermione took Pollux's hand but leaned toward Sirius reaching up to kiss his cheek and whispered,
'Watch out – Remus says she pinches.'

The look on his face entertained Hermione greatly; Amusement mixed with terror, a very odd
expression.

As Pollux steered her around the floor Hermione kept her eye on the Death Eaters. She was also on
the lookout for Narcissa, she wondered if she would have any inkling as to what they were up to.

'Your mother is exceptional Hermione.' Pollux said politely.

'She is.' Hermione agreed. 'I'm so glad she could come, I've missed her very much.'

Pollux was just as easy to dance with as his grandson, though perhaps a little stiffer, it was more
like when she had practiced with Sirius in the sitting room. Hand held upright, a careful distance
kept between them. Because of their whispered conversation about Death Eating gate crashers, she
and Sirius had been much more casual this evening.

'I can see why,' Pollux agreed. 'She is quite the firecracker, I haven't had an argument like that in
years.'

'You argued?' Hermione asked concerned, Frederica was meant to be charming everyone, not
starting fights.

'Oh yes.' said Pollux, his eyes glinting. 'It was fabulous, she really put me in my place.'

Hermione snickered in relief, 'You Black men are a strange lot.'

'We are.' Pollux agreed as he dipped her, 'But handsome enough to make up for it, wouldn't you
say?'

Hermione's laughter increased, 'I'd say conceited enough to make up for it.'

Pollux joined in, 'That is true, do you and Sirius have disagreements?'

Hermione was taken aback by the personal question. 'Not really Mr Black, only over little things.'
She said carefully, 'We see the world in a very similar way so there is little to argue over at the
moment, perhaps further down the track we will find some conflicting topics. I believe children can
do that to a relationship.'

Hermione was pleased to realise it was true, the fact that they didn't really argue. She'd never had a
proper friend that she didn't disagree with.

The happy feeling vanished, did that mean Sirius wasn't her real friend?

'You are very serious then?'

She resisted the urge to reply "no he is", and instead said, 'I think so, we don't see a lot of each
other at the moment with his Ministry work and then his dedication to re-establishing the role of
heir.'

'Perhaps I should stop keeping him from you in the evenings,' Pollux said guiltily, I must admit, I
have missed the boy; no one can debate like him, and now that he is a man, well, it makes it all the
more fun when I can gain an advantage with whiskey.'

'Like I said,' Hermione laughed, 'You're a strange lot, but don't worry, he enjoys spending time
here. He wants to make up for everything. I would feel guilty if I took it away from him.'

'I just thought he was lovesick, the way he talks ... but an attractive woman who doesn't complain
about never seeing her boyfriend and likes whiskey? I can't blame him.'

Hermione was about to reply when Sirius himself arrived back at her side. 'Grandfather,' he said
grinning, and taking Hermione's hand from where it was resting on Pollux shoulder, 'I believe Lady
Fehr wishes to continue your discussion.'

Pollux's lips curled into a smirk, 'Very well my lady,' he said, taking Frederica by the hand, 'then
discuss we shall. Thank you for the dance Hermione.'

She smiled at Pollux as Sirius dragged her to his side, 'Come then, let's get the meet and greet over
and done with.'

As they wound their way through the guests Hermione asked, 'So, what do you think of her?'

'She's very nice, a wonderful dancer' Sirius gave her a sidelong glance, 'you must get your rhythm
from your father, I didn't need to look out for her feet once.'

'You said I wasn't bad.' Hermione replied shrewdly, narrowing her eyes at him.

Sirius cleared his throat, 'That's true … I didn't say you were good either, you're just lucky I'm
exceptional.'

'I guess it must be quite a challenge keeping your balance with a head that size.' She agreed
seriously.

'It is.' he said, with a solemn nod.

'Berk.' Hermione said under her breath. Failing to keep the smile from her face.

He chuckled and then sobered, as the crowd parted and they could see Bellatrix and her husband
on the other side of a long narrow table bearing platters of the tiniest, most pretentious hors
d'oeuvres Hermione had ever seen.

'Okay, so are you ready?' Sirius asked quietly, 'I know you've got some pretty nasty memories of
her, just so you know, you can be as rude as you like in the name of condescension. Your family is
much more prestigious than ours.'

Hermione sighed, 'I'd rather just hex her, but a Lady is never rude Mr Black. I will rise above the
desire to cover her in tentacles and be polite. It's the least one can do for the masses.' She drawled
ironically.

He winked at her, 'That's my girl.'

'Rodolphus, Bellatrix' Sirius said when they reached them, he still had his arm around Hermione's
waist and she felt it stiffen as the pair turned their eyes on her. 'I wish to introduce you to Miss
Fehr. Hermione this is Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife, Bellatrix, Bella is my mother's brother
Cygnus's eldest daughter.'

Hermione did not speak, she stood tall, chin held high and what she hoped was a look of polite
interest on the face as she waited to be addressed first.

'Miss Fehr,' Rodolphus said after a moment, 'it is good to meet you. We have of course heard from
my wife's sister of you. She tells us you are suitable match for the heir to the Noble House of
Black.' He took her hand and brushed it with is lips briefly.

'Thank you Mr Lestrange.' She said with a courteous incline of her head. 'I'm glad to be looked
favourably on by Sirius' family.'

'My Aunt and Grandfather are pleased you have allowed Sirius to court you.' Bellatrix spoke up, 'I
believe they had lost hope in him ever finding a proper woman.' She leaned toward Hermione, who
braced herself just in time for one of the foulest experiences of her life – being kissed on the cheek
by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Repressing the shudder that threatened to make its way up her spine, she said 'Thank you Mrs
Lestrange. It is nice to meet you. Narcissa speaks of you often. She and I get along very well.'

'My sister is still young, I do not see her often, I am glad she has appropriate company.' Bellatrix's
eyes looked almost threating as she said it, though she still had a polite smile on her lips.

'Oh yes,' Hermione said, ' I was so happy to find a friend here, and especially one with such a
wicked sense of humour. She is very amusing.'

Bellatrix pursed her lips distastefully, and she didn't reply.

Thankfully at that moment, a man in his mid-twenties with light hair and a cheerful smile clapped a
hand on Sirius shoulder, 'Black, good to see you, Mother said you were going to be here.'

'Longbottom.' Sirius said, obviously pleased to have a distraction from his deranged cousin. They
shook hands, 'Frank, this is Hermione.' He said pulling her around to face Frank with the arm that
was still securely around her, so that she turned her back on the Lestranges'.

'Hi!' said Frank brightly, reaching for her hand and kissing it.
Hermione thought that very soon she would have permanent, lip shaped indents on the appendage.
But she smiled and said, 'Lovely to meet you Frank, you work with Sirius don't you?'

'I do.' he said, 'Right next-door, more's the pity for me – it generally seems to be a case in Moody's
eyes of guilty by association.'

Hermione laughed, he was a confident man, she couldn't help but think how much Neville would
benefit from having him as a role model, rather than Augusta. She resolved to mention the
protection of the Longbottoms' to Dumbledore again next time she saw him.

She looked around, realising that two of the people responsible for his incapacitation were standing
right next to her. How was it that both Aurors could stand next to known Death Eaters and not
arrest them? It was one thing for Sirius – with a family deception to uphold… but Frank? But the
Lestrange's had moved away. They were now in a whispered conversation with the ponytailed
Judson.

Sirius was talking quietly with Frank when she returned her attention.

'I know it's such a pain in the arse, and yet the Ministry still won't admit they've been infiltrated.
As if it's not proof.'

Frank nodded gravely, 'Well Black, I'm for another drink, you two want anything?'

'I'm fine thank you.' Hermione said.

'Me too.' Sirius agreed, then turning to Hermione he said 'Now that Mr and Mrs The Strange are
otherwise occupied, what do you say to another a dance?'

'Only if you can handle my apparently poor rhythm.' She said wryly.

'I'm sure I'll cope.' Sirius laughed, 'See you later Longbottom,' he said, with a shake of the man's
hand and pulled Hermione off towards the dance floor once more.

'Sirius?' she asked when they began to revolve slowly around, 'Why can't you just arrest the
Lestranges' right now? You know they're Death Eaters – surely you must have enough evidence to
put them away.'

He looked down at her, they were dancing close together again to pass off their discussion as sweet
nothings, 'You mean other than the fact that they are not supposed to be caught, according to your
time line?'

Hermione frowned, she had forgotten about that little matter. 'Er, yes, I know you couldn't really if
you want to appear loyal to the family – but I'm surprised Frank would do nothing.'

'It's because of the law, we were just talking about it.' He whispered next to her ear. 'There are a
few Riddle supporters in the Magical Law Enforcement Department – on the legal side, they have
been writing loop holes into capture laws for the last six months, we can no longer arrest on
suspicion alone – we have to catch them in the act. How Crouch lets them pass I'll never know. It's
mental – we're allowed to kill or torture them on the spot if we have proper evidence, but we can't
bring them in unless we actually see them committing a crime.'

'Oh, God – no wonder everything is falling apart, I had no idea about that.'

'Yup.' He sighed, his fingers tracing a pattern where his hand was resting on her hip, 'the Ministry
is shit. I keep telling you.' he exhaled heavily again, 'I had to make up the most ridiculous rubbish
on the forms for the three yesterday – It won't surprise me if they get let out again, though at least
Rosier gone … I just wish Hallowe'en would hurry up.'

He sounded so forlorn, Hermione put her hand on his cheek and tugged at the corner of his mouth
with her thumb, 'Smile,' she said, 'can't have the bigots thinking I'm not keeping you happy. Heaven
forbid Bellatrix rescinds her blessing … I mean I am allowing you to court me after all, you should
look grateful.' She reached up and kissed his other cheek. She felt the skin move under her lips as
he grinned.

'Merlin, they're so wanky.' He laughed quietly into her hair.

They were quiet for a moment before he asked, 'Did you see the food?' There was amusement in
his voice. 'It's like some kind of terrible joke, how could anything that tiny actually taste like
anything at all?'

Hermione laughed, 'I know, I thought the same thing. It's so pointless.'

They danced for a long time, pointing out the obvious pretentiousness surrounding them, giggling
against each other all the while. It was as Sirius did a surprisingly accurate impression of a wizard
who had just said hello to them as they passed on the dance floor, that Hermione finally saw
Narcissa. She was smiling over at the pair of them,
talking distractedly with two older women Hermione didn't know.

'Shall we say hello to Narcissa?' Hermione asked, 'She might know why the Death Eaters are here.'

Sirius looked reluctant, 'Er … sure, but not for long, your dancing has improved remarkably, I
would hate for you to regress.'

She nudged him sharply with her elbow. 'Very funny.' she said dryly.

'Hermione, you look lovely!' Narcissa said when they reached her, excusing herself from the
women and taking in Hermione's gown with wide eyes, 'That is a beautiful dress,' she kissed
Hermione on each cheek and asked, 'Is it an Ampelio?'

'Yes, my mother brought it from Milan for me. She was there on business last week.'

'I wondered,' Narcissa said, 'You can't get them here yet, this collection was only released a
fortnight ago.' She reached out to finger the soft fabric, 'I'm green with envy … Your mother is
here this evening?' she asked, scanning the crowd.

'Yes, she's dancing with your grandfather.'

'Oh dear.' Narcissa said, her eyes widening in horror.

Sirius burst in to laughter at her tone, 'Don't worry Cissy, I gave him fair warning. Though, she
seems to hold her own with him very well.'

'That must be where you get it from Hermione.' Narcissa said with a smirk, 'Everyone always said
Sirius is just like Grandfather. If your mother can match wits with the senior, it seems reasonable
that you can handle the junior.'

Hermione giggled as Sirius's laugher subsided to give Narcissa a look of indignation 'Junior?
That's not very nice Cissy. Though I bet Grandfather would be more offended to hear you call him
senior. And just so you know, we don't need to be handled.'
'Whatever cousin,' she said, flipping her hand at him, 'Be a gentleman and fetch us a drink,
Hermione and I have ladies matters to discuss.'

'We do?' Hermione asked.

'Oh yes, for one, you have direct access to the gowns of Milan, that should prove rather
advantageous for our friendship.' She winked at her.

'I'll be back in a minute.' Sirius said, releasing his hold on Hermione for what felt like the first time
in hours.

Once he was gone Narcissa said 'Good. Now, you two were looking very cosy out there – I'm
guessing that trashy article might not be wrong after all. If only by accident. Do you think you'll
get married here or in Switzerland?'

'Er …' Hermione sputtered, 'um … Narcissa, we're not engaged. I thought you wanted to talk about
dresses?'

She laughed, 'I just said that to make him go away, when do you think he'll propose? I assume
that's why your mother is here, so she can give her approval, or will he need to ask one of your
uncles?'

'Narcissa, honestly, we are not talking about marriage yet. It's too soon.'

She rolled her eyes, 'Keep telling yourself that Hermione.' she giggled 'He's smitten and I know he
has my Granny Irma's ring, Auntie told me, please say you'll have the wedding in Switzerland. I'd
love the excuse for a holiday.'

Hermione laughed despite herself, at least they were pulling off this couple thing well. She
wondered if Narcissa would be more disappointed than Walburga when she showed her true
colours and abandoned Sirius in two months' time.
 Treasure Hunters

5th September

Hermione had been talking with Narcissa for half an hour when she realised the time. Where was
Sirius? He had just gone to get them a drink, perhaps he'd been detained by one of his many stuck-
up relations … but she couldn't see him anywhere. Deciding that she would look for him,
Hermione excused herself from Narcissa, pleading the need to use the loo, and started through the
crowd.

She gave the room one more sweeping glance, the Death Eaters were missing too, she realised
with a striking panic. Sirius had said he thought they were here recruiting … were they here to
recruit him?

'Where are you off to Hermione?' Frank Longbottom asked, as she passed him on her way out the
door into the hall.

'Just the ladies.' she gave him an answering smile.

Hoping that the situation was nowhere near as serious as her overactive mind was suggesting to
her, Hermione headed down the stairs to the hall that lead to the kitchen. Sirius had complained
about the lack of real food earlier – perhaps he was just hungry.

As Hermioneermkherm reached the bottom of the staircase she could hear low voices coming from
the dining room, she stopped abruptly when she recognised Malfoy's drawl.

'Be that as it may Rabastan, we must –'

She didn't catch the end of his sentence because there was suddenly a warm hand on her wrist
tugging her around the end of the banister, into the dark corner formed by the staircase and the
wall. She struggled, trying to dislodge her wand from where it was stowed down the side of her
dress and elbowing her captor in the ribs, there was a grunt and a slapped a hand over her mouth.

A split second later she realised it was Sirius.

'Shh,' he hissed. The narrow space they we huddled in was very dark, only the top of his head
caught the dim light from the hall she could just make out his eyes, wide and worried.

She could hear the voices again, and it dawned on her that Sirius was here eavesdropping.

'What's going on?' she breathed into his ear.

'They've been looking for something.' he said in a hoarse whisper. Hermione began to panic, the
locket oh god, this was it. The plan had failed. Voldemort knew that Regulus has taken Slytherin's
locket. He would check the others now. 'Not the locket.' Sirius continued, reading her mind
'Something of Father's I'm guessing. Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Dolohov are upstairs. The library I
think, you only just missed them.'

'I'm telling you it's not there.' Rabastan's voice insisted from around the corner.

'Yes,' Malfoy sneered, 'you've been here often – I forgot. Why don't you just ask your new
boyfriend where he keeps it? He was the Gryffindor after all.'
'Leave it out Malfoy. I'm allowed friends.' Rabastan said curtly. 'Why does the Dark Lord want it
anyway? Seems a lot of effort to go to for a trinket.'

'Don't question the Dark Lord Lestrange, you might be too cowardly to take the mark but the rest of
us aren't.' Another voice growled.

Gryffindor? Hermione wondered, why would Riddle … another Horcrux she realised … But
Dumbledore said the sword was the only relic of Godric Gryffindor, and why would there be one in
the Noble and Most Slytherin House of Black?

Sirius breath was warm on her face as they stood together in the dark space. 'I think I know what
they're after.' he murmured, 'There is a brooch … it was my great-great-grandmother Eridanus
Black's. She was married to Lyell Matheson, who was the brother in-law of Godric Gryffindor's
great-granddaughter … Do you think Voldemort's after something to make another Horcrux with?'

Hermione nodded immediately, blessing his quick mind. 'Sirius we can't let them know we've
heard, we should move. You wouldn't have been here the first time, it might upset things if they're
caught – it's too closely related to the Horcruxes.'

Hermione turned away from Sirius and began to edge back toward the staircase. Malfoy, Rabastan
and the other one were still arguing, they could probably slip by without being noticed, that was
until the voices grew suddenly louder as the Death Eaters moved closer to the door.

'Let's go and see how they're doing.' Malfoy's drawl suggested.

Sirius snatched Hermione's arm and pulled her back again, deeper into the shadows, shifting in the
confided space so that he was in front of her slightly.

Then, to Hermione's horror she heard footsteps on the stairs above them. Then, adding to the
horror, Bellatrix's voice said, 'I will try her parlour alone, but we should make an appearance first,
someone will notice we're missing soon enough.'

Hermione's mind had gone blank, she didn't know what the best course of action was … where was
Harry and his cloak when you needed him? If they moved from the corner either the staircase
descenders or Malfoy would be sure to see them, and then they would know they had been
overheard.

Sirius was still holding her arm, his fingers clamped in a tight grip, Hermione loosened her wand in
the side of her dress, not that she could really use it; there were at least six Death Eaters converging
on them. Even she wasn't fast enough for that. The three from the dining room came around the
corner, they were still talking.

'What do we do?' Hermione hissed as the hem of Bellatrix's gown came in to view above them.
They were going to be discovered here, then the trinket hunters would know they had heard some,
if not all of their conversation, and it would raise questions of Sirius loyalty if he was found
actively eavesdropping on them.

Sirius looked down at her, Hermione could see him better now her eyes had adjusted to the
darkness. She could see Malfoy and Rabastan over Sirius's shoulder, looking up the stairs to their
compatriots.

'Forgive me,' Sirius muttered, 'but we need to look busy.' He let out a shaky little breath, murmured,
'Just got with it,' and promptly pushed her up against the wall and crashed his lips on to hers.

Hermione let out a little startled gasp, but she could hear footsteps directly above her now so she
didn't break away. If they had been standing close together before, it was nothing compared to this.
She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and with the hand that was resting on his
lower back she could feel the shift of his muscles as he tilted to the side, moving his lips from her
mouth to her neck. She shuddered at the feeling – trying to force her mind to concentrate on the
Death Eaters descending the stairs, rather than the way his slight stubble felt as it grazed against
the soft skin of her throat.

Then his mouth was back on hers and she wound her fingers into his hair at the nape, drawing him
closer still, all in the name of deception, she told herself. However when she felt his tongue skit
over her lip and his sure hand run up her side, Hermione decided she was quite glad there were evil
brooch thieves afoot, forcing the two of them to appear distracted.

Her hand at his back was moving of its own accord, making small circles and pulling him in. There
was heat curling in the pit of her stomach, her pulse was now pumping so fast and so strongly she
was sure he must feel it as his lips had switched back to her neck, his tongue flicking on the
sensitive skin.

She couldn't stop the little sigh that bubbled up from within her, her eyes were closed, she couldn't
think of anything beyond the feeling, hot and ticklish and delicious all at once – then he was
kissing her again, his mouth becoming more demanding, his hands wandering up and down her
sides, he groaned quietly when she responded. The sound caused the curling in her belly to tighten.

Everything was lips and tongue and hands trailing up her back and across her bare shoulders. Then
suddenly she realised it was very quiet. She could hear his fingers as they ran across the silk of her
dress and the sound of their lips moving against each other. There was a reason that was important
… She tried once more to focus, reluctantly pulling back.

She couldn't quite believe what had come over her. Had it really been so long that a snog from a
friend caused her knees to wobble and her brain to switch off entirely?

Then, as she looked into his face, both of them out breath, she saw soft lips, much redder than
usual, his pupils were wide in the dim light from the hall, his lids heavy as he met her eyes. His
hair was tousled from its previous tidy appearance and she didn't think she'd ever seen anything
quite as attractive as him at that moment … Oh dear.

'Having a good time cousin?'

All the warmth and bubbling loveliness inside Hermione dissolved at the sound of the voice.
Bellatrix.

Sirius recovered first, but he didn't take his eyes from Hermione. His chest still heaving and his
voice was husky as he said, 'Bella, don't you know it's rude to interrupt?' Then he cleared his throat
and shook his head slightly, blinking dazedly and turned to look at his cousin. He smirked at her
cheekily, 'It's bad for a man's health you know.'

Bellatrix's lip curled unpleasantly. 'You are so vulgar cousin.' She moved her disapproving eyes to
Hermione 'and here I was thinking you'd found a proper lady.' She gave Hermione a look of
haughty disdain, 'You shouldn't give in to him, he may want your status, but he'll never have any
respect for you. I wonder what Aunt Walburga would say.'

'I don't think she'd mind at all.' a deep voice said, it was Pollux. Hermione heaved an internal sigh
of relief, 'No harm in a little kiss, Hermione your mother is looking for you, she is ready to leave.'

'Thank you Mr Black.' Hermione said finding her voice at last, she looked at Bellatrix, 'It was nice
to meet you Bella, I'm sure we'll see each other again.'

Bellatrix's sneer disappeared to be replaced by very wide, very fake smile. Quite the terrifying
expression, 'You too Miss Fehr.'

Sirius was steering her away, up the staircase and out of sight before Bellatrix could even finish her
sentence. 'We should get out of here too.' he said quietly as they re-entered the drawing room.

'Where have you two been?' Frederica asked, from where she was standing just inside the doorway.
Her eyes ran over their flushed faces and Sirius disarranged hair.

Hermione found she couldn't meet Frederica's eyes as guilt and shame began to settle in her
stomach. Hermione was no fool. She knew she had enjoyed their supposed busyness far more than
one should when under pressure of discovery by Death Eaters.

Apparently, Sirius had no such qualms, 'We were just taking advantage of a moment alone Lady
Fehr, I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.'

Frederica gave Hermione a knowing look, brilliant thought Hermione the one person who believed
her that she and Sirius were just friends. It wasn't Hermione's fault that Sirius was a very competent
kisser and that she had been without affection for far too long.

'Et ez no problem, my Schatz, we will see each other on Monday?'

'Yes Mami.' Hermione said, dreading it already. 'Thank you for coming so far –' Frederica cut her
off by engulfing her in a hug.

'Et ez my pleasure my Schatz,' Frederica said quietly, her tone was comforting, 'I was right en
thinking you were en need of your mother at the moment. Things are not always as they seem.'

Hermione was so touched by her words, this flirty foreign woman was helping them so much.
Giving everything she could, just to help defeat someone who wasn't even powerful in her own
country. She asked nothing in return, except the privilege of dressing Hermione up, and now she
was hugging her, because for some reason, after a little less than twelve hours of knowing each
other, she could tell that Hermione was incredibly confused. Some of the tension in Hermione
lifted at the gesture.

'Thank you Frederica' she whispered. 'For everything.'

Pollux had arrived during their hug and was having what seemed to be a conversation using only
winks and tilts or nods of the head with Sirius. When Frederica released Hermione, Pollux said, 'I
hope to see you again Lady Fehr. You have been a spectacular bright spot in this otherwise dim
party.'

'As were you, Mr Black,' Frederica replied 'I have already said farewell to your daughter so I will
leave now I think. Thank you again for a pleasant evening.' She smiled at Pollux, who returned it
with a bow of his head.

Sirius and Hermione followed Frederica down through the house in silence, collecting her case
from where it had been stored in the dining room.

'You are alright to apparate alone?' Sirius asked Frederica, 'I can come with you, if you prefer.'

'No need dear boy, your lovely friend Remus ez meeting me en Hogsmead to escort me to
Hogwarts.'
Hermione's tension was shifted aside slightly as the image of Remus's pink cheeks appeared in her
mind. She smiled. The poor thing – it was a long walk from Hogsmead to the castle.

'Right, well you'll be very safe then, Remus will see to that.' Sirius said, 'Thank you again Lady
Fehr, we will never be able to repay you.'

'Bah,' Frederica said with a flip of her hand, she smiled and opened the door, 'See you Monday my
Schatz.'

Hermione nodded and Frederica stepped onto the top step, turned, and was gone.

Sirius closed the heavy door of Grimmauld Place behind them as they stood on the top step, he
took her hand and pulled her with him into the compressing darkness.

Appearing on the familiar narrow balcony, Hermione dropped his hand immediately, then
unlocked and opened the glass door.

'Did you want a cuppa?' she asked, speaking to Sirius for the first time since he'd been telling her of
the Gryffindor brooch. She was quite sure he would want to stay at his flat now that he knew she
couldn't be trusted to keep their act and reality separate.

It wasn't like she was going to jump on him, but the fact was, that despite her guilt at behaving like
a love-struck teenager in a very serious situation, she wouldn't mind at all if he decided to kiss her
again.

'Sure.' he said quietly, following her inside.

She scolded herself, You are here to kill Riddle, to give your friends a better chance at life. Harry
and Ginny and Mrs Weasley and Ron. Ron! Oh God, what was wrong with her … how could she?
He hadn't even crossed her mind, not since Sirius had dragged her into that corner, Not in quite a
few weeks when she came to think about it.

She was a horrible, selfish bitch. She had trained herself not to dwell on her failing relationship
with Ron while she was here. It made her sad and hopeless feeling. And while she was spending so
much time alone it was too easy to become consumed with the what ifs. So she had pushed it from
her mind, deciding to do her best here and face the outcome when she returned. But that was no
excuse to forget about him entirely.

Hermione had realised months ago, that without Riddle she might not even be friends with Harry
and Ron. And without the friendship to build on he might never fall in love with her. She still
loved him, but the feeling was becoming more similar to the way she felt about Harry – but that
could change back. Surely it could? This was another reason she'd decided not to think about him,
it made her quite depressed to think that her original driving force for coming here, might not even
exist on her return. As long as he was happy she told herself. That's why you came. To make them
happy.

What about Sirius? she thought bitterly. An hour ago she'd thought of him in the same way, a good
friend. Now … well, it wasn't that different. She probed her thoughts, no it didn't have to be
different. She expected he would think less of her now.

Embarrassment flooded her as she thought of the older Sirius knowing how easily he'd got to her.
How she'd pretty much thrown herself at him. She hoped he wouldn't be too disgusted when she
returned. He had seemed enthusiastic at the time … but he was a man, a kiss was just a kiss. Wasn't
it? So it shouldn't change anything.
Two kisses she reminded herself.

Filling the kettle and switching it on angrily, she pulled cups from the cupboard only to find Sirius
leaning against the bench next to her. She glanced at him and then turned to put the cups on the tea
tray.

'I'm sorry.' he said.

What did he have to be sorry about? Sorry that she was a wanton trollop probably. She looked at
him again – his head was down, his hair falling over his face so she couldn't see his expression, he
was apparently fascinated by his fingernails. 'No I'm –' she muttered.

'You're angry with me.' He spoke over her, still enthralled with his hands. 'I really thought it was
the best way to avoid them catching on, I thought I could handle –'

'Sirius it's fine, you were right,' she interrupted him, 'they didn't suspect a thing.' Then she added
ruefully. 'I'm sorry if I … er … came on a bit … strong.' She could feel her face burning and used
the teapot as an excuse to turn away.

'You?' He sounded very confused. 'I – never mind.' he finished.

They were quiet while Hermione filled the teapot from the now hot kettle and took it to the sitting
room. She could barely look at him, she just wanted get away, but she didn't. Dutifully pouring
him a cup and then one for herself, she sat in the armchair that wasn't home to the teetering tower
of research and began to flick through the pages of her current Remus read. Not even glancing at
Sirius as he joined her.

Sirius collapsed onto the sofa in his usual fashion – arms going behind his head, feet up on the
armrest, he exhaled dramatically and when she didn't react, he suddenly let out a bark of laughter
and said, 'Well this is sodding awkward.'

She looked over at him, the half-embarrassed, half-amused expression on his face made her
chuckle nervously too.

He made childish kissy noises and batted his hand at her saying, 'Merlin, we're a right pair.' before
dissolving into horrendously unmanly giggles.

And just like that he was the Sirius of hours before, her friend – the one she was going to kill
Riddle with, the one who teased and joked with her, and the one who loved blue macaroons with
almost colourist fascism.

Stupid kiss. It didn't matter at all.

Stupid kiss Sirius thought as he lay next to Hermione in the hotel bed. The little clock read 3:32 –
he had been lying there, pretending to sleep, for three hours and four minutes. He was such an
idiot. Moony was going to yell at him, Remus had been pretty understanding until now, but this
may change things.

Ignore it? Bloody impossible.

Sirius almost felt angry with Hermione. How dare she turn up at the Gala looking so fucking
gorgeous? The reason he had agreed to leave her with Narcissa in the first place was because he
was struggling to keep his hands off her, it was all well and good while they danced, he was
allowed to touch her then. But she might have thought it a bit odd if he insisted they walk around
the room pressed together like that.

When he had realised they were trapped in the corner by the stairs, he'd jumped at the chance to
take what he wanted.

Cad. Selfish prat. But she kissed you back … she wanted you, the deviant voice in his head insisted.
She was playing the part. His conscience replied. Everyone likes a good snog. It doesn't mean she
likes you.

Fifty seven days. So it didn't matter even if she did.

He was glad they had been interrupted, he had totally forgotten that it was an act. He had been lost
in the feel of her pulling him against her, in the way she sighed when he kissed her neck. It was all
a highly enjoyable blur of arousal. He punched his pillow, trying to make it more comfortable.

She didn't seem to think too much on it though, he mused. He'd really believed he'd given the game
away entirely when they got back and she wouldn't even look at him.

Sirius'd thought she was angry that he would be so careless as to forget how important this all was,
and that there was no time for frivolous things like snogging, when there were bits of soul to
destroy and future boyfriends to save.

But she wasn't. They'd had a cup of tea and gone to bed like normal.

And now she was asleep next to him and all he wanted to do was kiss the bit of bare neck he could
see – displayed temptingly by the loose neck of the dreadfully sexy flannelette pyjamas she wore.
Sod it. He shuffled over, closing the distance between them and draped his arm over her waist.

He mostly just got a mouth, and face full of bushy hair from her ponytail, rather than flesh as he
dipped his head to press his lips to the patch of skin, but it didn't matter.

Sirius closed his eyes and Hermione seemed to sense him there in her sleep because she shifted
slightly. He tensed. But instead of the jab in the ribs, and the sleepy instruction to 'get out of it' that
he was expecting, she just made a small noise of contentment and leaned against him.

He berated himself for being such a girl when a pleased little smile curled on his face.
 Welsh Green

6th September

The morning after the Gala was not as uncomfortable as Hermione had expected. Sirius was acting
no differently than usual, so she followed his lead. Hermione was determined not to let her
newfound teenage tendencies ruin their friendship. Not if she wanted to go back to a Sirius that
would want to know her.

No matter how tempting an idea it was to let the attraction between them turn into something else
– she realised now that the oddities in Sirius's behaviour since they got the diary were caused by it
too – it didn't matter, because it could only ever be a fling. Hermione had to choose having Sirius
as a friend, now and in 2001, over two months of bedroom gymnastics that would inevitably be
followed by a very awkward conversation with a man twice her age, who would probably be
married when she went home.

Even if the former did seem a lot less appealing at the moment.

No, she would concentrate on the plan. Collect the cup. Practice Fiendfyre containment with Sirius.
Make sure the Potters used Pettigrew as their secret keeper. Burn the Horcruxes. There was plenty
to keep her wandering mind under control.

'Do you think I should try and get this brooch from Mother?' Sirius asked, as they sat at the small
dining table munching toast, and carefully avoiding any mention of what had happened after they
had overheard the treasure hunters.

'No.' Hermione said fervently, shaking her head. 'You wouldn't have had any idea about it last time,
so they must not be able to find it, or Riddle doesn't have time to turn it into a Horcrux; if we
interfere I don't know what it could do. Best to leave it alone, I think.'

'Okay,' Sirius agreed with a shrug. 'So what are you doing today?'

'Nothing,' Hermione said. 'Reading I guess. Frederica is coming to visit tomorrow though, I'm sure
that will be entertaining. What about you? It's Sunday – Moody won't make you go to work again,
will he?'

'No, he said I can have the weekend off – seeing as how he stunned me and all, and they're having
real trouble with his nose. The hex Rosier used wasn't as simple as he thought.'

'They don't fix it,' Hermione said, a little sadly. 'It was still like that when I met him.'

Sirius wrinkled his own (whole) nose. 'Gross, he has to be the most unlucky bastard – scars all over
him … his leg cursed off … now his sniffer. He says it doesn't matter, 'cause the uglier he gets the
more he can scare annoying children - and Death Eaters.' Sirius shook his head. 'Can't help
wondering what the next thing will be.'

'His eye.' Hermione said without thinking; she wasn't really paying attention. Not that she would
admit it, but her thoughts had been commandeered by scene very similar to the night before –
minus the Death Eatery and possibly clothing. Christ, when had she become so dirty minded?

'His eye?' Sirius asked, aghast.

'Er …' Hermione said. 'Yes, I shouldn't have said that … sorry.'
'Well, you did.' He pointed his half-eaten piece of toast at her in accusation. 'So spill.'

She sighed, annoyed at herself. 'I don't know how it happens, but when I met him he was known as
Mad-Eye Moody. He has a magical eye to replace the one he lost in the first war. It can see through
everything … walls, clothes … invisibility cloaks, everything.'

'Clothes?' Sirius laughed. 'I always knew he was a filthy old codger.'

Hermione chuckled before asking, 'So what are you doing today then? Two days off in one week,
it's a miracle.'

'How sad is that?' he asked, searching for the jam and finding it hidden under Hermione's book.
'I'm going to Grimmauld later,' Sirius said, unscrewing the lid and scooping what looked like half
the jar onto his toast. 'But first Moony and I have to see a man about a dog … ha, literally.'

'Wolfsbane?' Hermione asked, 'Good,' she said, when he nodded. 'If Remus wants to try it this
moon, he needs to start taking it tomorrow.' She was so glad that she had given Remus the recipe.
Damn the repercussions it might have on the future. He was going to have a much better life,
whether or not they succeeded against Riddle. It was like a tiny little safety net.

Sirius swallowed his mouthful, which had to be far more jam than bread, before answering. 'Yeah.
Lily is nearly done, it just needs the powdered Wyvern fang. Thankfully that goes in last, cause it's
what we're buying today. Meeting the bloke at the Snitch this afternoon.'

Hermione was confused, 'Can't you buy it in the shops?' She knew for a fact that you could.

'Er … yeah, but Dung can get it cheaper, and you know what Moony's like about accepting money.'

'Dung? As in Mundungus Fletcher?' she asked, horrified. 'God, Sirius, make sure it's the right stuff.'

He laughed, 'So you know him then? Don't worry, he's dead scared of me. He wouldn't rip me off.'

'Er … why?' Hermione remembered that Mundungus had generally treated Sirius as a friend, if you
excluded the use of his house as a stolen-goods depository. But he had never seemed afraid of him.

Sirius was laughing quietly. 'Because I beat the shit out him the first time we met, summer after we
left school – by mistake,' he added, when Hermione frowned disapprovingly at him. 'It was self-
defence.' he insisted, waving his jammy toast in dismissal.

'Me, Moony, Prongs, and Pete were on our way home from the pub, and had stopped for a kebab –
honestly, how can anyone hate muggles when they make such brilliant drunk food?' He shook his
head in disbelief. 'Anyway, we'd never met him before, and we were dressed like muggles, as I
said, kebabs, when he, and a few of his mates thought four, trolleyed eighteen-year-olds looked
like easy pickings. We didn't know they were wizards, and to be frank … our dueling skills were
impaired anyway. It had been a long night – so when they came up to us and said "empty your
pockets" … or something of the like, it's a bit blurry … I very politely asked Pettigrew to hold my
kebab, and punched the nearest of them in the face - turned out to be Dung.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering 'Boys' as she added sugar to her coffee. They were such
strange creatures.

Sirius sniggered at her reaction before continuing. 'James told me later that it wasn't the wisest
course of action, because I started a brawl, but he was just pissed that his glasses got broken and his
post-pub-snack lost to the gutter. It was only when the muggle police stopped by to break us up,
that we realised Dung and his mates were wizards too. 'Met him at an Order meeting a week later –
he was still pretty banged up – so yeah, not that I'd ever do it again, but it is useful to have him
frightened of me.' Sirius popped the last of his toast in his mouth with a triumphant flourish, and set
to work on buttering another.

'And who says violence doesn't pay?' Hermione asked ironically, chuckling despite herself.
Mundungus had left his post while guarding Harry, and disapparated on Moody, after all. A bit of a
beating wasn't undeserved in her mind.

'Glad you're coming round.' Sirius said through his mouthful. He swallowed and continued, 'So I'll
go with Moony, then over to Grimmauld to see Grandfather – we were halfway through a game of
chess when everyone started turning up last night, and I was winning, so I want to finish it.'

'Good.' said Hermione, 'Actually, I had an idea about the vault, if he hasn't left you to do it alone
soon I thought we could rig it.'

'You're too crafty.' Sirius said, smirking 'Sometimes I think you're lying about being a Gryffindor –
you've got Slytherin written all over you.'

'Needs must,' Hermione muttered. 'No, it's just that the first time I met Pollux we talked about
Fiendfyre, he knows a bit about it, apparently; he mentioned an incident involving a forest in
Wales.'

Sirius burst out laughing, his knife stopping half-way through a swipe across his toast. 'You mean
the one at the estate?'

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, I think so.'

'Sly bugger, he told me there was a Welsh Green on the loose when Granny Irma mentioned some
big fire that had happened not long after they were married, Reg and I were only kids, we'd never
heard about it before ... We thought he was so cool – our dragon-slaying Granddad.'

Hermione giggled. 'Well, he told me his father had to come and put it out, so I'd say cool had
nothing to with it. But anyway, what if I ask him for some help? On a Monday, so he can't go to
the bank, then you could say in all your gallantry, "I can do it Grandfather, I am the perfect heir,
let me prove it to you."' she mimicked the slightly drawling voice he used when in the presence of
his mother.

He snorted. 'I might not use those words, if it's okay with you, but otherwise yes, that's a good idea.
What do you reckon, three more weeks?'

'Two,' said Hermione. 'That will give us six left before Hallowe'en, and you said you want to go
alone once or twice, before we make the attempt. Did you still want to try the jewelry thing?'

'Hmm … I guess, it would be good to have your criminal mind there with me, Gringotts thief
extraordinaire … and muggle banks and cars … Merlin, you really are a crook.' He looked at her
seriously – grey eyes dark, his eyebrows lowered as he put his hand over hers where it was resting
on the table. 'Hermione,' he said in a sombre tone, 'do you think you have a problem? Perhaps you
should see someone.'

She threw her crust at him, but to her great annoyance he just caught it between his teeth, grinning
cheekily. 'Got to do better than that, Granger.' he said, after swallowing it. 'For future reference, I'm
a dog - throw sausages next time. They will distract me from your disreputable behaviour far more
effectively.'
'He said he'd be here by two.' Remus said, he was agitated, drumming his fingers against his
Butterbeer bottle. This was the last day to get the powdered fang if he wanted to have his own mind
on the next full moon.

'It's only five past Moony, relax. He'll show up.' Sirius said glancing around the nearly empty pub,
'And even if he doesn't we can still get it at Lishop's.'

'Sirius,' Remus muttered quietly, Wilfred the barman was standing at the taps not far away. 'You
know I don't want to draw attention to this. Wyvern tooth is rare and mostly used in dark stuff. It
will be bad enough when they find out I'm a wolf, I don't want it known that I buy dodgy sea-
monster molars too.'

'Who's they?' Sirius asked.

'God, Padfoot, the Death Eaters. Who else?' Sometimes Remus couldn't believe the cluelessness of
his supposedly-clever friend.

'Oh, right,' Sirius said, swigging from his bottle.

'I can't believe they don't know already,' Remus went on. He truly thought he would have been
approached already. 'I would have thought Snape would have told them by now. It's the only thing
that makes me think Hermione's right about him being on our side. Otherwise they would know
and have come calling by now.'

Sirius was looking at him oddly. 'Er … Remus, no one can come calling, your place is hard enough
for me to find. Do you really think they'll find you? And anyway,' he said with a slight chuckle, 'as
if they'd want your flea-bitten arse. You're way too soft – hanging out with deer, honestly.'

'They won't want me because I'm strong, Sirius.' Remus said quietly through gritted teeth.
'Although I am compared to the rest of them – I live a decent life, calm and full of food; most of
them eat when they can, and if they live with the pack their existence is anything but relaxing. It
takes a toll on the wolf. No, they will want me because I can help control the others. Voldemort
might hate me because my mum is a muggle, but he'll see my value – keeping the young ones
focused, teaching them …' He shuddered, it was like some terrible mockery of what he really
wanted in life.

'Moony, listen.' Sirius said, his tone finally serious. 'Firstly, if you were caught by them, you would
lead a rebellion from the inside – probably killing Greyback along the way. Second, Voldemort
might hate you cause your mum's a muggle but I'd bet he hates you more because you keep taking
his precious Death Eaters away from him. You're up to seven now, right?' Remus nodded, smiling
at his friend's attempt to calm him.

'See? That's two better than me.' Sirius said with a half-smile. 'Though the forms required on three
were bad enough, I think I'd rather just kill them. How fucked is it, that if you just lop their heads
off, there are eight less pages to the report than if you stun them and lock them up? Anyone would
think Crouch just wants us to kill the lot of them.'

'Pads, I think that's what he does want, haven't you noticed? The trials are becoming a joke.
Dumbledore has pulled me off research now, we don't need it.'

'I've been a bit busy Moony, you know … evil dark sorcerer's soul destroying and all of that? Takes
up a bit of my time. But back to my list – Third, it's only fifty six days til Snakey's dead anyway.
So no need to worry.'
'You're counting? How, er … organised of you.' Remus said in disbelief. 'you know … I'm
beginning to think Hermione is some kind of mythical creature; saving Prongs and Lily, killing
Voldemort, bringing me a potion that will change my life … but this, to make you organised …
Merlin, it's astounding.' He shook his head in pretend wonder.

Sirius was laughing nervously. 'I know, right? Totally mental. Maybe I can use that in my defence.'

'Defence?' Remus asked, what would Sirius need a defence for … and to Hermione? … Oh right,
the thing he was ignoring. 'Pads, what have you done now? It's bad enough that you're sleeping
there … I find it hard to believe she hasn't clicked on to your scamming yet.'

Sirius didn't say anything, picking at a chip in the wooden bar top with his fingernail. Finally
without looking up, he mumbled, 'I may have made a small judgment error.'

Remus sighed inwardly. Of course he had. 'Small by normal standards, or by yours? They vary
greatly sometimes.'

'Both.' Sirius said still digging at the counter.

Remus's frustrated, resigned sigh was external this time. 'What did you do … is she still talking to
you?' he asked, wondering how this mission would proceed with Hermione in constant fear of
sexual assault. Maybe that was a bit harsh, Remus thought, more like … unwanted ravishing.

'Yes, it's fine' Sirius said. 'A bit awkward, but fine. At the thing last night, there were some Death
Eaters there and I didn't want Bella to know I'd been spying on them, so I kissed her.'

'Why would you kiss your cousin?' Remus asked, purposely trying to annoy his friend. He did it to
Remus himself often enough. 'I know the Blacks don't mind that sort of –'

'No, Hermione. Not Bella,' He screwed up his face, 'Blech - are you trying to make me puke? We
were hiding and then sort of ended up surrounded, and I wanted us to look, erm … distracted. I
really was only playing the part Moony I promise, but as I say, a small error in judgment ... sort of
got … carried away.'

There was a stupid, sappy smile on his friend's face. Bloody Padfoot, Remus thought. Would it kill
him to think with his big brain for once in his life? Probably. 'So she knows you want to shag her
now, does she?'

'That's not …' Sirius was frowning at him. 'I don't just – no, I don't think so. It wasn't like she was
Mrs. Iron Knickers.' The idiotic smile was back.

Remus reached out and flicked him sharply on the ear. 'Cut it out,' he said firmly.

Sirius pressed his palm to his ear. 'Ow,' he said, rubbing at it vigorously. 'Shit, your nails are
sharp.' He pulled his hand away, looking at it as though expecting to see blood.

'You deserve it," Remus said sternly. "Behave yourself, this is too important. And remember, she
can cast Fiendfyre – do you really want a girl like that pissed at you? A mere ear flicking will pale
in comparison to her wrath, I'll bet.' He flicked the reddened ear again.

Sirius shoved him with a snicker. 'Okay, okay I get it.'

''Ere, boys.'

A heavy hand suddenly landed on Remus's shoulder, making him jump, and he was engulfed in a
cloud of rotten smelling smoke. He waved a hand in front of his face to clear it.

'Good to see you Dung,' Remus said, coughing slightly.

'Lupin, Black, 'ow are you lads this fine afternoon?' Mundungus Fletcher asked, dropping the butt
end of his fat roll-up into Sirius's empty bottle.

Wilfred was eyeing Mundungus with suspicion from the end of the bar.

'That depends, Dung, are you here to give us good news?' Sirius asked.

Sirius's demeanour had changed the moment he heard Mundungus' voice. Gone was the laughing,
whining idiot. Now he sat straight, shoulders square, no trace of humour in his eyes. He looked
threatening, Remus realised. It was a bit strange; even in duels Sirius tended to joke, trying to
annoy his opponent to death, as he explained it.

'What do you take me for, Black?' Mundungus said indignantly.

'Generally?' Sirius asked, as though the question was not a rhetorical one. 'A shady crook, but if you
have what we want you're my new best mate.'

'Course I got it. I've never failed yer yet, 'ave I?' Mundungus grunted, 'Pretty tough getting me 'ands
on it though, me usual bloke thought I'd gone right daft, but as always, yer mate Dung 'as come
through. Two vials see yer right?'

Sirius nodded. 'That's what I asked for, isn't it?' he said sardonically. 'Twenty galleons each?'

'Well yer see …' Mundungus wheedled. Remus rolled his eyes. here we go, he thought. 'Like I said,
was 'ard work to get it at short notice …'

'Get out of it Dung,' Sirius snapped. 'I've got forty for you right here – take it or leave it. You know
old Billings from the D.M.L.E. has been sniffing around your lot down in Whitechapel, I told him
you're on our side but … you know … he needs reminding often. I wouldn't want to forget.'

Mundungus turned his baggy eyes on Remus. 'Your mate's a right son of a bludger,' he muttered,
digging two little bottles from one of his many pockets. He handed them to Remus under the bar.

'He is,' Remus agreed, tucking the vials away in his own pocket.

A similar exchange seemed to have happened between Sirius and Mundungus too because Sirius
said, all hostility forgotten, 'So Dung, must be your round. I hear you've come into some gold.'
Then he turned and called along the bar, 'Wilfred my good man – can we get another round down
here?'

'Checkmate' said Pollux proudly, as his knight decapitated Sirius's king with savage ferocity. The
injured ranks of black pieces he'd been playing with groaned in defeat, sending annoyed looks up
at Sirius for his poor battle plan.

Sirius's grandfather's chess set was a disturbing thing, twice the usual size, and made from marble
and onyx. It weighed more than Sirius did.

The figures killed each other with gruesome efficiency, shouting insults and brandishing their
weapons at each other across the board, not to mention airing their opinion of the opposing game
player whenever they were in opposition territory. Sirius loved it. It had got him out of a severe
mouth scouring when he'd called his brother a 'Nancy-arsed lickspittle' at the age of nine, and had
the presence of mind to blame the notoriously foul mouthed white rooks before his mother could
get her wand on him.

He didn't mention that he had been the one to teach the castles that particular insult.

'Sneaky blighter,' Sirius said to Pollux, as he waved his wand to heal the little pile of dismembered
onyx, ignoring the complaints the restored pieces made as they marched back on to the board. One
pawn in particular, who seemed to have taken great offence to being sacrificed to Pollux's brutal
and sinister bishop said, with a shake of his tiny fist in Sirius's direction, 'Don't try that again, you
clammy fingered donkey botherer!'

'Sneaky winning blighter, I think you'll find,' Pollux said, reaching for his whiskey decanter. 'It is
after five, my boy, what do you say?'

Sirius smiled ruefully. 'As you've just come back to beat me from a clear disadvantage, I'd say fill
her up.'

'There's a good lad,' Pollux said with a chuckle, pouring them both a drink. 'How is Miss Fehr after
last night? She did not seem best pleased when you left.' His eyebrow was raised in implication.

Sirius didn't really want to talk about that right now, partly because he was sick of lying and
because it just made him more annoyed at himself. But mainly, because he wanted real advice on
what to do. All his grandfather would say was that Sirius should use the sodding ring his mother
had given him and start extending the family tree.

Which would be the right thing to do, if he was in the situation Pollux thought he was. But
unfortunately he was not. What a bloody mess.

CRACK

A wonderful distraction appeared at that point in the form of Kreacher – Sirius even smiled at the
elf, so grateful was he that he had a few more minutes to figure out a suitable lie for his
grandfather.

"Master, young Lestrange is here, he wishes to greet Master Sirius."

Pollux looked at Sirius in question; Sirius nodded. Hurrah for Rabastan, he thought. Perfect
timing, Pollux would never talk of private affairs in front of other people. He realised that Pollux
was not the best person to take advice from anyway - the man had got married at fourteen, for
goodness sake; only because Walburga was on the way, but still. Hardly the well-rounded, modern
mind he was looking for in this situation.

'Bring him up,' Pollux said to Kreacher.

'Yes, Master.'

CRACK

Rabastan entered not long after, striding across the room to shake Pollux's hand first. 'Mr Black,
good to see you. '

'You as well, Rabastan. Did you enjoy yourself last night?'

'Yes, Mr Black,' he said, unhooking the fastening of his traveling cloak and hanging it on the coat
stand next to Pollux's desk.

Rabastan was a decent sized bloke, as tall as Sirius but broader, and his face generally wore the
same wary expression; but being surrounded by Death Eaters day and night would do that to
anyone.

'The Gala is always a good time,' he said, 'Although, either I'm still growing or the food is
shrinking, I swear it gets smaller by the year. Still delicious, but so very tiny.'

'You and me Rab,' Sirius said, laughing, 'are kindred spirits, I kept wondering if I could get away
with three at a time … but either Mother or your sister in-law kept giving me withering looks, so I
gave up.'

Rabastan smiled as he sat in the leather armchair next to Sirius, 'I hear you had an unwanted
meeting with dear Bella last night. Not about the food though ... You should have heard her when
we got home. She was pretty annoyed. '

'Don't know why, I wasn't even rude to her,' Sirius said. 'Well, not by my usual standards, anyway.'
He added, chuckling.

'I think I'll leave you two to talk,' Pollux said, standing up. 'I want to give the ledgers a look before
tomorrow. You're meeting me as usual, Sirius?'

'Yes, Grandfather,' Sirius confirmed.

'Good.' Pollux shook Rabastan's hand and patted Sirius on the shoulder before leaving the library
and closing the door behind him.

'So how's the family, Rab?' Sirius asked, once he'd poured Rabastan a drink.

'The usual,' Rab said, accepting his drink. 'You know me, the dutiful errand boy. Father says he
has some big job for me this week; the fact that he won't tell me what is has me worried.'

Sirius was concerned. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he quite liked Rabastan. He was a bit
slow on the uptake sometimes, but generally he was fun, and easy to talk to. He rarely spoke of
blood purity or the Death Eaters – he did call muggleborns mudbloods, but Sirius had to remind
himself that he too had used that word, until Hogwarts anyway. Sirius'd had no idea it was so
offensive, until a Hufflepuff fourth year had punched him in the stomach for being a pureblood
wanker. Thankfully it was on his second day, and Sirius had redeemed himself by jinxing
Slytherins – mainly his own family – for the remaining seven years.

'You don't think it will be anything to do with the Dark Lord?' Sirius wondered if Rabastan was
going to ask him about the brooch they had been looking for the previous evening.

'No,' said Rabastan slowly. 'No I don't think so, some family stuff. Wills and rubbish I think. I was
worried cause I'll be bored out of my mind, not in danger, Sirius,' he said, looking at Sirius a little
oddly. 'You're not normally so paranoid, is … er, is there something wrong?'

Sirius didn't think he'd ever seen Rabastan look so uncomfortable. Their conversations were
normally confined to Quidditch, whining about the stupidness of the pureblood lifestyle, and Rab's
irritations with his overprotective wife. The closest they'd ever got to talking about personal stuff
was when Rabastan had told him that he didn't want to join the Death Eaters because of his kids.

'S'alright mate,' Sirius said, smiling and throwing back the last of his whiskey. 'Just had to talk to
Dung Fletcher today, it would put anyone on edge. Dodgy little bugger.'
'Fletcher?!' Rabastan exclaimed. 'What were you dealing with him for? Isn't whiskey enough for
you anymore?'

'Pfft, as if Rab,' Sirius said with a chuckle,. 'And you say I'm paranoid. Nothing like that, just got
me a good deal on some stuff I need for work.'

'Why bother? Not like you can't afford it,' Rabastan said, like he'd never heard of someone
conserving gold before.

Sirius shook his head, 'No, but I'm still on thin ice around here. I'm pretty sure I'll fuck up at some
point and have to rely on my personal funds again; no harm in being careful.'

'You do say stupid crap sometimes,' Rabastan agreed, swirling his drink around in his glass before
taking another sip. 'So how's Fehr? Is her mother breathing down your neck after last night?'

'No,' Sirius said, Merlin why could everyone just leave this alone? 'Come on Rab, who wouldn't
want me to marry their daughter?'

'Er … most of the mothers I've met,' Rabastan said, trying to hold back a laugh. 'And you're getting
married? That's new.'

'Watch it,' Sirius said, laughing too. 'We're not; well, we haven't talked about it yet, but that's what
mothers think isn't it? Everyone you date is a potential in-law.'

'I wouldn't know, Letty and I were arranged.' Rabastan shrugged. 'Could have been worse though,'
he started to snigger. 'As you have said many times before … I could have got Bellatrix.'

Sirius laughed too. Never in his life did think he would have felt sorry for Rodolphus Lestrange.
 The Glen

7th September

'So how was Frederica today?' Sirius asked, as they made their way down a steep hill in ... actually,
Hermione wasn't sure where they were exactly. Somewhere in the Scottish Highlands was all Sirius
had told her when he and Remus had turned up at her hotel that evening.

'Fine,' Hermione said, 'you should to meet her properly before she goes, she's really wonderful.
Despite her fascination with Remus and his pinchableness.'

Sirius let out a loud laugh that echoed around the empty countryside.

Remus sighed and shoved his friend hard in the shoulder, making Sirius weave unsteadily on the
uneven ground. 'I don't get it, you're the pretty-boy why do I have to be pinched to within an inch
of my life?'

'Poor Moony.' Sirius choked out between guffaws.

The night was overcast and quite cold, and Hermione was glad for the warmth of her coat. They
had decided it was best to be dressed as Muggles for this little adventure, climbing through the
heather in a cloak was not an easy task. There was a breeze that would present itself suddenly,
blowing the long damp grass and causing the scrubby bushes to rustle as the three of them
negotiated the slope in the darkness. Remus seemed to have a much easier time of it than the other
two.

'Bloody wolf eyes.' Sirius muttered when he stumbled for the fourth time during the trek, on a
lump of tussock that Remus had just stepped neatly around.

'You have them too Padfoot.' Remus said witheringly, 'Why don't you just transform?'

'Because then the fair maiden will be left alone in clumsiness. And that's hardly fair – Ouch.' he
said, staggering again when Hermione poked him in the ribs from behind with the point of her
wand.

'Fair maiden,' she repeated sardonically, 'none of that thank you. If you can't cope with your
measly human eyes, away you go, I'm sure Remus will make sure I don't step on a prickle.'

Hermione's brilliantly cutting line was ruined – or reinforced depending on your view – when her
foot caught in a rabbit hole and Remus did indeed fling out an arm to steady her.

Sirius laughed, and then was delivered his own piece of karma. His boot slid on a strange angle in
the dewy grass, and his arms flailed for a moment before he lost his footing completely, and went
tumbling head-first down the slope. Sirius's rolling was decent stopped by a craggy crop of rock, it
was conveniently jutting out of the long grass directly in his path.

Such audacity was found only in Scottish granite, jumping out of the earth willy-nilly, it's only
purpose seeming to be the tripping up of night-time hikers.

Sirius gave a grunt and unfolded himself from the ground. Then, brushing himself off he muttered,
'Sod it.' and morphed into the grim-like dog, before he took off at a gallop down the remaining part
of the slope.
'Piker.' Hermione said resignedly as she continued to place her feet carefully, following Remus's
sure-footed path.

After another five minutes Remus turned back to her and said, 'I know you're no damsel in distress,
but this is taking forever. If we want to get any work done tonight we should hurry up.'

'I'm trying,' Hermione snapped, 'but I'd rather not break my ankle – I'm not made of rubber like you
two seem to be.'

Remus laughed, then he turned his back on her and bent his knees a little, 'Climb on,' he said, 'if we
don't get down there soon, Padfoot will have chased a rabbit all the way back to Inverness.' There
was a loud playful barking in the distance and Remus said, 'See, we'll never find him once he
starts.'

'Fine – but not a word to anyone.' Hermione said putting her arms around his neck and letting him
hoist her onto his back. Remus increased his pace to a fast walk down the hill and in no time they
had reached the edge of the small heavily wooded glen that was their destination.

The wind seemed to vanish as Remus walked swiftly through the trees, talking a path he obviously
knew very well. The trees became denser on the short walk and just when Hermione thought he
would have to use is wand to make a path for them he stepped through the branches into a wide
clearing.

The ground was still littered with low growing plants but the huge wide trunks of the taller trees
were missing, she could hear a burn bubbling nearby, it was very peaceful. Until a voice filled with
irony said, 'Not a fair maiden? – I beg to differ.'

Sirius was human again, and lounging on one of the many fallen tree trunks that were a little too
regular to have collapsed naturally. The trunks formed a roughly circular pattern, and the ground
they surrounded was clear – unlike the rest of the glen's floor.

She glared over at him from her perch, 'Shut up. Would you have rather waited for another hour?'

'Of course not, I would have offered to carry you myself …' he started to laugh again, shaking his
head, 'No I wouldn't, only Moony possesses that much gentlemanly spirit.'

Remus was chuckling as he let her down, 'Smooth Pads, no wonder all the girls love you.'

Sirius just laughed.

Taking in the circle of tree trunks that had to have been man-made Hermione said, 'Anyone would
think you'd been here before.'

'Yeah,' Remus said, 'we used to use it for moons, before I got my place, there's no one around for a
few miles either side, and the trees are close together enough to cast silencing charms on.'

Hermione looked around appreciatively, it was nice to see into the little window of marauder
history. Especially the happy part, though with luck … there might not have to be the devastating
ending she had known.

'Padfoot suggested it would be a good place to practice,' Remus went on, 'but if we burn it to the
ground I'll be a bit cross – the wolf loved it here.'

Hermione looked a question at him and he elaborated with a shrug, 'It smells good.'
'Okay, Professor,' Sirius called, 'how do you want to do this?'

They were here in this hidden location to practice their containment charms, Sirius and Remus
needed to be taught, Hermione already having been declared competent by Dumbledore.

They had decided that it was best for Remus to learn too, that he would come and help them with
the Gaunt shack until midday on Hallowe'en before he went to the Potter's. Hermione's practice
session with Dumbledore had reminded her how draining the magic involved was. An extra wand
might be the difference between success and failure.

Hermione looked around for a suitable object to use for the trial – eyes falling on a large hollow
tree trunk that had fallen, probably many years ago, to the right of the Marauders log arrangement.

'Over here.' she said, making her way over to the log, Remus followed her and Sirius got up from
his seat to join them. 'This will do.' she bent down to inspect the inside of the trunk for small
woodland creatures; she didn't want to barbeque anything, but the mossy dark space was empty.

'Alright,' she said, 'the charm is non-verbal, and it's mostly mind power but there is accuracy
needed in the wrist movement as well, if you get it wrong it won't work at all.'

She looked at both men to make sure they were paying attention – they were standing very still,
watching her intently as she talked. Remus had a little frown creasing his brow in concentration,
Sirius on the other hand was grinning at her, and when she caught his eye he winked. Then as they
drew their wands and performed the movement in unison – a small graceful upwards stroke
followed by a sharp descending flick – she knew why.

She smiled at them, and raised her eyebrow, 'You two have been practicing.' She accused. They
both nodded. 'If only Professor McGonagall could see you now.' she said with a little laugh at the
startled looks on their proud faces.

'If Minnie had wanted to teach me how to control Fiendfyre at school I would have done my
homework then too.' Sirius said, his wand continuing to trace the pattern in the air as he spoke.

Remus snorted. 'Sure Padfoot.'

'No really … but only because I wouldn't want to be toasted … she would get so pissy at me
sometimes,' he looked quite genuine, like it was normal to be threatened with cremation by your
teacher.

'I really wouldn't blame her for that.' Remus said with a shake of his head. 'You were totally
insufferable.'

Sirius smiled at him as though it was a heartfelt complement. 'You're too kind Remus.'

Hermione cleared her throat as Remus sniggered, rolling his eyes 'Okay, so you have the wand part
sorted – did you practice the control?' she asked. They both shook their heads.

'We did try,' Remus said, 'but it's hard to know if you're doing it right, considering neither of us can
cast the fyre we had no idea if we even did anything.'

'When did you do this?' Hermione asked, impressed that they had obviously gone to a bit of effort
to be prepared, not surprising for Remus … but in Sirius's case? Unheard of. 'I didn't know you'd
had time.'

'We looked it up that Sunday, the day after I brought Moony to your place for the first time.'
'We.' scoffed Remus, 'I believe it was more like I read, while you lay about eating all my chocolate
and complaining that it wasn't colourful enough.'

'I was there.' Sirius said, 'It counts. Anyway it was my idea … you know I'm not the most focused
of learners, I need your guidance.'

'Okay, Okay,' Hermione said, a little impatiently, they were getting of track, 'So the enchantment is
all in the feeling, you have to want to control it. To master the flames … or more like the object
you're encasing … to protect it, it's quite a weird feeling that leads to it working. Almost like you
love the thing … like your magic will stop any harm coming to it.'

Remus and Sirius shared a look and then both burst into laughter, 'We've come all the way here …
and you tell us it's so we can fall in love with a tree?'

She gave them a stern look, 'Shut up, it's the only way I can explain it; once I understood it like that
it made it much easier.' Much easier than a pizza oven she thought.

Remus managed to control his sniggering more quickly than his friend, said friend had tears in his
eyes at the absurdity of the whole thing.

'Okay,' he said under his breath, 'so I want the log to be safe … I am in charge of its protection…'
He flicked his wand experimentally a few times, breathing slowly before turning his gaze on the
trunk.

Sirius sobered as he watched the werewolf work. His own wand twitching in his hand, after ten
minutes of silence he came forward and set to work on the other end of the log, forehead furrowed
in concentration.

As Hermione observed the two men she was impressed with their confidence, she could tell that
for all the joking they were taking this seriously. She let her mind wander as they worked, it was
quite boring watching them flick their wands around with no visual result. Her thoughts fell on the
visit from Frederica that afternoon.

The Swiss woman had not hounded her for details of her and Sirius's absence on Saturday night,
but merely skirted around the subject with little phrases like 'We are ze only ones to make ourselves
happy.' or 'Perhaps when this ez over you will be able to concentrate on what you want en life – et
must be difficult putting others first all ze time.'

In fact, they had mostly discussed politics, Lady Fehr travelled extensively and was a fascinating
well of information on the differences in policy amongst wizarding nations.

Hermione had asked her if she would be able to secure a dress for Narcissa the next time she went
to Italy – Narcissa had been so kind to her she wanted to do something nice for her before she ran
off and ruined everything. Frederica had agreed, glad for the excuse to spend time in designer
boutiques rather than stuffy Ministry offices.

When she'd got up to leave she had hugged Hermione again and made the only direct reference to
Hermione's Gala indiscretions of the day, 'I do not blame you my Schatz, he may not have a patch
on Remus but I can see ze draw.' Hermione had been startled, having being lulled into a false sense
of security by the lack of discussion on the topic, before she began to laugh.

'I really shouldn't tease ze boy,' Frederica had said as Hermione continued to giggle, 'but I can't
help myself. He jumps every time and turns ze most wonderful shade of pink. Et ez really too sweet
for words.' She was giggling too by that point. 'Oh well,' she had said before she left. 'I am seeing
him on Thursday, Albus has arranged for him to meet with me to discuss curriculum aids – I
cannot understand why he ez not a teacher already. Perhaps he ez too young still – I will have to
try and restrain myself.'

Hermione had laughed again, but mainly to hide her sadness. Frederica did not know of the
werewolf factor.

'Alright.' Sirius's voice broke through her musings, 'We're done.'

The log looked no different to the way it had when they'd begun of course, and since Hermione had
no idea what method Dumbledore had used to check her own enchantments, she reverted to the
way she had tested herself before leaving 2001, a simple colour change charm. When the charm
was cast at the protected object it clung to the layers of magic, seeping through any gaps that may
have been unwittingly left in the defence.

Hermione cast the spell and bright orange burst from her wand; she always used orange … it just
seemed appropriate. She was surprised at the strength of their work; her first attempts had been far
worse than this, in fact her tenth attempt had been worse than this.

She looked at them suspiciously, 'Are you sure you haven't practiced?' They both shook their heads
again. 'You've done very well … I think I only made to this point after about three months … are
you positive you haven't been sneakily learning behind my back?'

Sirius laughed, 'And here I was thinking you know me so well … I'm hurt Hermione.'

She gave him a look before turning it on Remus. 'And you?'

'Maybe a tiny bit.' He said with an impish grin, 'But really nothing, you're a good teacher. That's
all.'

'Right well I guess it's a good thing,' Hermione said, suddenly thinking that it was silly of her to
question them when this was what she wanted anyway. 'I'm going to do the entry gap on
Hallowe'en, so as long as you two keep working at this it will be fine – did you want to try and
layer it enough so I can cast the Fyre?'

'Yes.' Sirius said immediately.

Remus was more hesitant. 'I guess,' he said, 'but you're not going to burn the glen right?'

Hermione looked at him, his eyes were wide and worried, she had to swallow a smile at the
innocent expression, 'Remus if the glen catches fire we will be in serious trouble, like running for
our lives from a fiery death trouble. I wouldn't let that happen.'

He smiled sheepishly. 'Okay.' he said nodding and returned to the task.

Hermione left the orange colour in place so they could catch their missed patches more easily.
Another fifteen minutes passed before Hermione was satisfied. She adjusted the small space they
had left for the final stage and then with a few calming breaths she cast the fyre and closed the gap.

Both Remus and Sirius took steps back as the violent flames coursed beneath the containment field
faces wide-eyed and fearful at the power of it. They were silent as they watched the beasts within
the magical containment fight for freedom, for something more to consume with their savage
flamed fangs than they were being allowed.

That was until Remus said in an undertone, with a significant look at Sirius, 'See I told you. Not
someone to annoy.'

Sirius coloured slightly as he caught Hermione's eye, but it was only for a moment before he
looked away again.

Perhaps he was not a relaxed as he seemed about what had taken place at the Gala. Good
Hermione thought. If she had suffer from embarrassing moments of being caught looking at him
for a little longer than was polite, then so should he.

10th September

Sirius was not finding as difficult as he thought to carry on as usual with Hermione after the events
of the previous Saturday night. This was for three different reasons his brain – which Remus was
right about, had become much more organised with the on-going influence of Hermione – had
presented him with.

The first one was that the situation for him really hadn't changed that much. He was still ignoring
it, well, partially.

For most of each day anyway … some of the day … at least once a day.

Second, only fifty one days to go until she was gone, and it wasn't like he was In Love or anything
so romantically ridiculous, even his chest did hurt a little whenever he thought of Hallowe'en. But
that was probably just because he was worried something would go wrong with the fyre … or
maybe he had an unusual strain of acid reflux….

Either way, he was afraid to win her over – which of course he would if he put in any effort at all –
because he had never been so consumed by the idea of someone and on the fifty second day he was
going to have it taken away from him. That idea scared him more than not trying at all. The empty-
headed one-nighters of what seemed like years ago would never stand up to the memory of her. He
was a coward, Sirius realised sadly.

Sometimes he couldn't believe he'd only known her since June. That this mission that seemed to
stretch for an eternity behind him had only been for the last fifteen weeks. The Fiendfyre practice
had reinvigorated his drive for the task. He knew they had done remarkably well so far, the only
thing was the cup. Once they had it all would be perfect – aside from the small matter of killing
Voldemort. But hell, Sirius thought that if he could get his mother to smile at him then nothing in
this world was impossible anymore.

The third reason his mind had given him to account for his – so far – brilliant handling of the
situation was contradictory to the others. But it was the one that helped the most; he could tell it
wasn't one-sided anymore. Hermione hid it well, but he knew his spectacular snogging abilities had
caught her attention. At least all his indiscriminate shagging had been good for something. Sirius
had toyed with the idea of actually talking to her about it, after he'd finally got his hands on the
elusive cup of course. Then she wouldn't be able to use the argument of 'bigger things to worry
about.' Because surely he should at least try. He knew he would regret it if he didn't.

However, this thought caused his apparent indigestion to return, he should probably get an antacid
potion. Or drink less whiskey.

'Black?'

'Black, what is with you lately?'

Sirius looked up from his desk to see Frank's head poking over the divide in their work spaces, with
a concerned look on his face.

'Er … nothing?' Sirius said, dragging himself back to the present. He looked down at his desk;
another bloody map was spread out on the surface, what was this one for? He didn't have the
foggiest, he'd been sitting about daydreaming. He was turning into a teenage girl, how
embarrassing.

'Any word on Moody yet?' Sirius asked Frank, trying to appear bored - rather than female.

'Yeah,' Frank grinned at him, 'Get this - he jinxed one of the healers, told them all to sod off and
that he didn't want them to fix it if it meant staying another day at St Mungo's. He should be back
anytime.'

Sirius chuckled, that explained why Moody never got his nose fixed. Sirius knew the man hated
the hospital – it was the same reason the old Auror was still covered in scars when there were
plenty of potions that would fix most of them right up. Lying around being fussed over was not
something Alastor Moody took well. 'Sounds about right.' Sirius said.

'So I was thinking …' Frank began with a rebellious half-smile, 'your last hour of freedom before
your personal tormentor returns … shall we go to the Leaky for lunch? Most of the others are still
finishing the filing from the Docklands. They won't miss us, and considering you haven't done
anything at all for the last half hour … like, actually nothing – you might want to get out of here.
Seriously though,' he added, frowning, 'I don't think I've ever seen you sit still for so long. Are you
sure you're okay?'

'Yes Longbottom. I'm fine.' Sirius said, standing up and undoing the buttons at his cuffs before
pulling his uniform robes over his head. He flung them in a heap on his desk chair and said, 'Let's
go then, I've probably only got a day before Moody forgets he stunned me and goes back to treating
me as normal.'

Sirius and Frank had just re-entered the Auror headquarters after a somewhat extended lunch, that
may have contained a pint or two more than was strictly necessary.

Unfortunately for the two men St Mungo's could only hold patients against their will in dire
psychosocial situations… though Sirius thought there may have been just cause as Moody's
annoyed growl greeted them. 'And where have you two been?'

Sirius was pretty sure it was Moody anyway, but it was hard to tell with his face swaddled in
bandages.

'I just had to have a word with Billings.' Frank said quickly 'He's been having a go at Fletchers' lot
again.'

Sirius smiled inwardly, Frank was a useful man. He'd been about to say 'At lunch.' Not something
that would have impressed Moody, who was generally of the opinion that food was optional,
especially if it got in the way of work.

Moody grunted in approval, 'He's a sneaky little git, but he knows his stuff, would do us no good to
have him locked up.'

Sirius and Frank both nodded, very pleased that Moody's nose was half-missing and covered in
gauze, since they probably smelled of smoke and ale – two things not commonly found on a
Wednesday lunchtime in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.
'Black I need a word with you, Longbottom, back to work.' Moody said, with a flick of his cane in
Frank's direction.

Great thought Sirius, as he followed his boss's stumping path down through the row of cubicles to
his office, his grace period of comparable kindness from Moody seemed to be over.

When the door was closed and Moody had taken a seat behind his desk, he gestured for Sirius to sit
down too. Sirius sat, wishing Frank had not talked him into leaving for lunch as his brain was no
longer in top boss wooing condition.

Moody gave him a stern look, his cane tapping against the leg of his desk … or maybe his own leg
it was hard to tell as they were both wood. He said at length, 'Now, Dumbledore came to have a
word with me last night, he has some concerns.'

'Concerns about what?' Sirius asked, maybe Moody wasn't about to take his post-hospital anger out
on him after all.

'About you and the girl.' Maybe he was.

Sirius looked at Moody in horror. This could not be happening. No way. He was not going to have
this conversation with a man who scared the shit out of him, and at the same time made him want
to laugh at his crazy bandaged face.

Absolutely not, Sirius began to panic internally. How did Dumbledore know? It wasn't that big of a
deal, it wasn't like anything was different. They'd even had a go at Fiendfyre containment, and he
would get the cup soon … they were right on track. What harm was it doing to fancy each other a
wee bit …?

'It's fine Moody, really, we're not … it's fine …' Sirius stuttered, before exhaling heavily, 'Merlin,
did Dumbledore really ask you to talk to me?'

'Yes. He said you still haven't got the last one; the cup. He's getting pretty worried that you're not
going to do it in time.'

Sirius could not stop the choking laugh that came out of his mouth. Relief, sweet relief that his
boss was not about to give him a bollocking for his stupid actions.

The idea of talking to Moody about his Feelings made him cringe in all sorts of horrible ways. 'Oh
right, don't worry, we have a back-up plan, and we've still got seven weeks.'

'That's what I told Dumbledore – I think he might actually be nervous.' Moody said. 'Never thought
I'd see the day.' He added with a strange strangled sound, it took Sirius a moment to understand that
it was a laugh.

What on earth was going on? Moody was laughing, Dumbledore was afraid and Sirius was a
teenage girl with awful heartburn. The world had turned upside-down.
 Treasure and Tears

14th September

As Sirius waited in the Leaky Cauldron for Pollux to arrive, he couldn't help but be nervous. He
felt this way every time he and his grandfather attended to the banking, like he was going to do
something that would mess up his cover, even though it wasn't really cover anymore.

Aside from the fraudulent identity of Hermione, he hadn't told his grandfather a lie in weeks. They
had even had a civilised discussion on the rights of muggleborns. Pollux was still a bigoted bastard,
but he wasn't stupid. He didn't think Sirius was wrong for his opinions. He just didn't share them.
Even saying in a resigned voice that "It was the way the world was going. That if the Dark Lord
fell, the Blacks may follow unless they changed with the times."

Sirius had literally choked on his whiskey at these words. It seemed only his mother stood in the
way of the direction he wanted his family to go in. For since his re-acceptance, Sirius'd had odd
little thoughts running through his mind. What if he didn't tell them it had all been a hoax after
Hermione left? He could play the wounded soul, steering the family in the right direction. Because
he would definitely need something to concentrate on in her absence.

He would have his friends of course, and Harry would be safe – they could all do things together
again, in public. But obviously, he was going to miss her.

The strangest thing was, that it wasn't his more recent feelings toward her – ones that involved
inappropriate hand placement and absolutely no brain function – that made him sad that she was
leaving. It was the loss of a friend, that weird girl who had sat next to him at the bar and called him
Mr Ogden. The one that had made him laugh when he was so angry with the world.

Other than James, she was the first real friend he had made all by himself, and while he'd be over
the bloody moon if they had something more while she was here, he wasn't quite sure how he'd
cope once she was gone again. Sirius surreptitiously ran his hand over his chest, no breasts present.
Still only internally female then, good.

'Sirius, have you been waiting long?' Pollux's deep voice asked.

Sirius was once again startled out of his internal distraction, caught day-dreaming again. He really
needed to get a handle on this this. It was becoming a serious problem.

He looked up at Pollux, his grandfather was dressed as usual for banking; dark robes, shoulder-
length hair bound at his nape. He was a very distinguished figure. Sirius ran a hand through his
own hair, it wasn't really long enough to tie back so he just let it hang, no one except his mother
ever said anything about it looking too untidy so he guessed that meant it was alright.

'Er … no Grandfather, just got here.' A lie, Sirius realised when he looked at his watch. He'd been
sitting thinking for forty minutes. Bollocks, a very serious problem.

'We should get going then, I have a lot to do today.' Pollux said, glancing at the leather bound
ledger he carried.

'Of course,' Sirius said, getting up from his seat to follow Pollux through the little pub and out into
the small court-yard at the back. Pollux tapped the bricks above the dustbins and he and Sirius
watched as Diagon Alley was presented to them.
As they walked up the winding crowded street Pollux was greeted by shoppers, shaking hands and
smiling, he was a well-known man, and as muggleborns were too afraid to leave their houses these
days, most everyone on the street was suitably blooded to warrant a smile. Sirius had his hand
shaken too, it happened more and more on each trip, old-family people happy to see that The
House of Black was strong once more.

They mounted the steps outside Gringotts, and passed the goblin guards as they entered the long
hall. There was marble and cut-glass lighting in every direction. They didn't have to wait in the line
of customers because Pollux had a standing appointment, and even if he didn't, the gold he stored
with the goblins was sufficient enough that he would have been seen to very quickly.

'Mr Black.' The goblin behind the appointments counter greeted them, he didn't smile – Sirius
didn't know if goblins even could smile. Not Gringotts ones anyway.

'Good afternoon, Gornuk.' Pollux said, 'Deposit and visit today.'

'Very good, Mr Black.' He held his long-fingered hand out for the ledger Pollux was holding.

Pollux pulled a large bag of gallons from his inner pocket, a pocket that Sirius had charmed for
him, using the undetectable extension charm Hermione had taught him. Pollux had been impressed
with its usefulness for carrying bulky items. Sirius had a very similar pocket – his held a certain
duplicate golden cup. Hermione insisted he keep it on him every time he went to the bank just in
case. He knew better than to argue with her.

Gornuk weighed the bag of gold and marked the correct place on the page of Pollux's ledger, then
he ran a finger down the column of figures in the leather book. 'You have had a good quarter Mr
Black,' he said impressed. 'I may have advised you against investing in the Bobbins venture – but
you were right to ignore me. He seems to have an eye for the apothecary business.'

'He does.' Pollux said. 'They are looking at opening a new branch after the holiday season.'

'Very good.' Gornuk said approvingly. He pressed his palm to the current page in the ledger and
said, 'Your deposit has been added to your account. Would you like me to take you down or will
one of the others do?'

'It is no matter Gornuk, one of the others will be fine.' Pollux said accepting his record book back.

Another goblin was summoned to them by Gornuk, Sirius and his grandfather followed the little
creature from the marble hall and down into the rough stone passageway.

The goblin, who's name Sirius didn't know, lead them to one of the small railway carts that were
the mode of transportation to the vaults, once they had clambered in, the goblin pulled the leaver
and they took off, swaying and reeling through the underground tunnels.

At the bend before the large pale dragon – who Sirius called Wally, after his mother – was due to
come into view, the goblin reached down and pulled the clanking metal rattles from his bag. He
shook one in each hand vigorously as they passed Wally who cringed away from the echoing
clatter. They rounded another bend before coming to an abrupt halt.

As he climbed from the cart in front of the now very familiar blank door to the Black Family vault,
Sirius looked around as he always did. The door of the Lestrange's was nearly visible around the
corner if he stood on the very edge of the rock, it dropped away steeply beneath his toes to create
room for the rail tracks that ran below.

'Get back from there boy.' Pollux said sharply. 'I know you hate them, but falling to your death or
breaking your neck is not the answer.'

"Them" were the portraits in the vault, and Sirius did hate them.

The first time Pollux had noticed him standing back trying to see the Lestrange vault, he had
thought that Sirius was hesitant to enter the treasure hold of the Blacks. this was because on their
first visit the younger man had received the most severe dressing down of his life – worse than his
mother, McGonagall and Hermione combined. How the portraits knew he had deserted the family
was beyond him, though he guessed that his father and grandfather had not kept it a secret when
they were baring Sirius from the vault.

The painted ancestors were almost like guardians of the family fortune, hung on the walls to make
sure no one unknown entered. Not they could do anything to stop potential thieves, unless perhaps
such thieves had extremely delicate egos.

The goblin pressed his hand to the door and Sirius took several steps forward, still distracted in the
direction of the Lestrange vault – it was lighter than usual down the passage today, he wondered if
he could get a better look.

'Pollux Black, I have told you not to trust this one,' said the irate tones of Violetta Black the
moment the door melted away, 'He has a shifty look, inherited from Orion no doubt, why you let
your daughter marry him I will never know. Arcturus was never right in the head and he bred it
into his son.' Pollux shooed the goblin away as the reprimand washed over them, seemingly
unaffected. 'Your uncle was never happy with him. If he had not of died before this whelp was born
he would have fought hard against his name being given to Orion's spawn.'

'Yes Mother.' Pollux said wearily, before he crossed the room and opened the small cabinet that
held the list of contents. This was just a formality; the gold they had deposited today had already
registered in the pages, and nothing had been withdrawn since the week before.

Sirius looked around at the large collection of wealth, his eyes fell on the jewellery piled in chests
and velvet boxes not far from him, now was as good a time as any to set up the reason for
Hermione accompanying him to the vault one day.

'Grandfather?' Sirius asked from the doorway, trying to keep out of view of the other portraits.
There was a particularly cruel monk that liked to insult Sirius's effeminate hair lurking on a wall to
the right, and while Sirius couldn't care less if they insulted his lack of scruples, or his father, there
were some things a bloke just shouldn't have to deal with on a Monday.

'Hmm?' Pollux hummed, scribbling his signature on the parchment sheaf.

'I was wondering if you thought it would be appropriate for me to give something to Hermione?'
Sirius asked, gesturing at the collection of jewellery on the bench nearby, 'I mean … I worry that
she will lose interest if I don't make my feelings known.'

Pollux looked up from the book in his hands, 'I think you already have something to give her that
would serve that purpose my boy.'

'Grandfather,' Sirius almost whined, 'we have talked about this, Hermione wants a career before
marriage, and she's said many times she doesn't see the point of a long engagement. You know it's
my intent but I don't want to push her, I just thought perhaps … if she had something less … er …
significant, it might let her know I intend to do the right thing … when the time comes?'

Pollux chuckled, 'My boy, you think too much, she is a bad influence on you.'
Sirius smiled, it was so true, even if his grandfather had reached the conclusion from false
information. 'Yes Grandfather, I know. But I know how important all this is …' Sirius looked down
at his feet and exhaled heavily, 'I … I want to do all I can to make you happy.'

'Merlin boy, buck up – what has gotten into you?' Pollux asked, concern in his voice, 'Do you think
Miss Fehr is having second thoughts?'

Sirius shook his head, 'No, I –'

'Sirius? Mr Black?' a voice interrupted them.

Sirius turned to see Rabastan standing at the open entrance to their vault, his arms were full of
scrolls, there was a leather satchel dangling from one hand and a large ink smear on his left cheek.

'Rab,' Sirius said, surprised, 'what are you doing here?' Then he grinned slightly, taking in his
appearance, 'Homework?'

'Don't knock it.' Rabastan said, 'This will be you before you know it – and your family has twice
the junk mine does.'

Pollux cleared his throat pointedly.

'Er … sorry, Mr Black,' Rabastan said, embarrassed.

But Pollux smiled and came forward to see the documents in his arms, 'I know your pain Rabastan,
my father put me in charge when I married Irma, at least you've had some life before drowning in
this … junk.'

Rabastan smiled tiredly, 'I just don't understand why they can't sort their own wills out.' then he
cheered a bit, 'The good thing is, everyone is being so nice to me … since I'm in charge of
inheritance – Father okay's them of course, but I'll have my small revenges.' He looked a lot
happier at this thought.

Pollux and Sirius laughed.

'Where are you off to now?' Sirius asked him. This seemed like a very good chance to get close to
the Lestrange vault – and its cup containing properties.

'Lunch,' Rabastan said with a yawn, 'and a drink. Merlin it's dull in there.'

'Would you like company?' Pollux asked, 'We're done here, it was only a quick visit for us today,
have you got time Sirius?'

'Of course, Grandfather,' Sirius said, 'as long as you're paying.' he looked over his shoulder at the
obscene amount gold.

Pollux clapped him on the back with another chuckle, 'Just for that boy – you can get the bill.
Blacks don't ask for gold, you should know that by now.'

It turned out that Pollux was joking, he gladly bought lunch, and two glasses of Firewhiskey each.
Leaving the two younger men in the pub because he had business to attend to … a meeting with
some old friends, involving cards and more whiskey. Such a difficult life.

'When do you have to be back at work?' Rabastan asked Sirius as they had a cigarette with the last
of their drink – something that surprised Sirius because Rabastan didn't normally smoke, peer
pressure Sirius thought, Hermione made him more organised and focused with her influence, but
the best he could do was make people smoke.

Was he kidding himself with his ideas of wooing Hermione after he had got the stupid cup? He
knew that she had enjoyed their moment at the gala, but she didn't seem to be the type of girl to
like someone for the physical alone – Sirius had seen the picture of the future boyfriend after all,
the guy must have had some kind of amazing personality.

Maybe he should work harder on that … he had been trying to let his intelligence show – he knew
it was in there somewhere, hidden by depths of twattery and bravado, but there all the same.
Hermione definitely rolled her eyes at him less than she used too ... maybe it was working …

'Sirius? Are you listening?'

Sweet merlin again? 'Sorry, what?'

'I said, when do you have to be back at work?' Rabastan repeated, 'I was going to ask you for help
– but you seem particularly vacant today. So maybe not.'

'Help with what?' Sirius asked.

Rabastan pointed to the pile of scrolls, 'It's doing my head in, and you're pretty good at the
numbers. After hearing you talk with Mr Black I feel like my brain is going to explode, but you
understand what he's talking about … or are a very good actor.'

True on both counts Sirius thought. 'Sure,' he agreed with a nod, 'Moody's still being nice to me, so
he won't care if I'm a bit late. Getting stunned by my boss is the best thing that's ever happened.'

'Oh yeah, you must be pissed that Smyth and Wilkes were released again.' Rabastan said, as he
finished his drink.

'Pissed doesn't really cover it Rab.' Sirius muttered.

Rabastan shifted uncomfortably. 'It's a bit weird us being mates isn't it?' He said quietly, 'The
others give me stick about it all the time.'

'I guess,' Sirius said, shrugging, 'but we won't be at war forever, and there aren't many suitable
blokes to hang out with who don't want to lick Snakey's boots so I'm glad to have you around.'

Rabastan looked around quickly, 'Merlin Sirius, I wish you wouldn't say shit like that.'

Sirius laughed, 'Sorry, but you know my opinion of him.'

'I do. So anyway, what do you reckon … bunk off and help me with my homework?'

'Sure.' Sirius said, thinking that it was yet another piece of evidence that Hermione was rubbing off
on him. If only Moony and Prongs could see him now … helping someone with paperwork … best
not. James would hit him and then call him a swot, and Remus would jinx him for being an
imposter.

So they sat, huddled in a booth in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, pouring over lists of names and
items – matching the value of artefacts to the importance of the family member. Sirius was nearly
enjoying himself – annoying Rabastan by removing things from Bellatrix's page every time he
thought the other man wasn't looking.
He finally got a laugh out of him when he changed tact and added a stuffed house-elf and four
antique needlepoint sets to her allotment. Bellatrix and handicraft seemed too funny to overlook.

They worked for most of the afternoon, Sirius not actually making decisions – just checking
Rabastan's mathematics. At four o'clock Rab said, 'Well, I need to get these back, you coming for a
walk or have you had enough of the carts for one day?'

Sirius nearly knocked all the papers flying, had he really just been offered a chance to visit the
vault of Lestrange?

'Sure,' he said calmly, 'I need to stretch my legs, they've seized up from all this sitting around.'

Rabastan yawned and stretched as he stood, saying 'I know what you mean, my arse is asleep.'

Sirius laughed nervously and led the way from the pub, his heart doing a drumroll in his chest.
Should he stun Rabastan and the goblin? How long were they going to be there? If it was longer
than ten minutes the goblin would leave and return to pick them up … he needed to talk to
Hermione … bugger.

Sirius's hands were shaking with anxious energy when the cart stopped in front of the Lestrange
vault, this was too good to be true. He'd moved his wand to his sleeve on the rickety, winding
journey down through the passages of Gringotts. When Rabastan climbed from the cart Sirius had
to take a moment to steady himself. This was so huge, the best chance he could have been
presented with to get this damn cup.

If the goblin left … he didn't want to stun the creature; it was an imprisonable offence and the
whole point of this was to avoid his stint in Azkaban. Sirius almost laughed at himself when he
realised that he was worried about stunning a goblin when he was about to try and rob the place.

He stepped from the cart and hung back at the door of the vault as Rabastan went inside, he didn't
want to seem too eager, and it was very rude to walk into someone's bank account without being
invited.

'You can go,' Rabastan said to the goblin, 'I have to put these away it will take a while, half an hour
will do.'

Brilliant.

As the goblin trundled away Sirius began to search the treasure collection with his eyes, there were
mountains of coins on most surfaces, jewels and goblets, the stuffed house elf he had tried to give
Bellatrix. Shelving covered the walls more gold and silver was crammed onto it, the fortune was
nowhere near the size of the Blacks, but respectable none the less.

He scanned the shelves from his position by the door, working his way methodically down, row
after row. The Lestranges' had no portraits in their vault, Sirius realised enviously, he was onto the
third set of shelves when he saw it, the little golden double-handled cup, sitting innocently next to
a crown and a heap of glinting emeralds –

'Sirius.' Rabastan said in an exasperated voice

'Hmm…' Sirius said nonchalantly, his heart began to race once more, he looked over at Rab as
casually as he was able, he asked, 'What?'

'I didn't put the collection of 16th century shackles on Rodolphus's list.'
Sirius sniggered, 'I was trying to be helpful, with a wife like his I thought they might come in
handy.'

Rabastan laughed grudgingly too, 'Yeah well, come here and fix it. His whole allotment needs to
be re-tallied because of your kindness.'

As Sirius leaned against one of the counters and re-added the stupidly long list of Rodolphus'
entitlements, he checked his watch. He had twenty more minutes, the cup sat on its little shelf
tantalisingly close, if he stunned Rabastan how would he explain it?

He finished with the list and handed it back to Rabastan, 'There you go, all fixed, I thought you'd
noticed back at the Leaky.' He said apologetically.

Rabastan tutted and then slotted it way in the documents cabinet. 'We still have a bit before the
goblin comes back. Sorry, it was faster than I thought.'

Sirius shrugged, 'No problem.'

'Oh I know,' Rabastan said his face lighting up, 'you would like these.' He rummaged around in a
pile of weapons, drawing out a scimitar and recurve bow, 'They came to the family though the
Burkes. One of their ancestors was in Anatolia during the Crusades, like 1101 I think – lucky to get
away with his life, the west lost spectacularly - ridiculous for him to even be involved in a
mudblood war, but I have to admit, they had some cool weapons – he bought this back, and when
they married into our family it was part of a dowry, aren't they brilliant?'

'I'll say.' Sirius said honestly, taking the curved sword from him, it was a wicked looking thing, as
long as his arm, but not exceptionally heavy, the blade curved away from him, the flared tip
catching the light.

'There were some arrows too.' Rabastan said digging further into the treasure for a moment, he
said, 'Ah ha!' and pulled on something that caused the tower of loot to wobble before it became an
avalanche around him, knives, shields helmets and pikes fell with a clatter – Sirius took his chance.

'Stupefy,' he said under his breath.

Rabastan went limp in the pile of weapons. Sirius hoped he wouldn't be impaled by anything –
there was a very sharp looking lance lying quite close to him.

Sirius immediately turned to the corner with its little golden Horcrux - he put his foot on the low
bench below the shelf that held Hufflepuff's cup and reached up for it.

It gave him that same feeling as his fingers wrapped around the metal, freezing cold, dark, and like
something was vaguely wrong. The diary and the locket felt the same way. Talking out the fake
and putting it on the shelf he put the Horcrux in his Hermione-extended-pocket and climbed back
down.

He moved a heavy shield and a claymore from next to Rabastan and covered the Lestrange's head
with them, then pointed his wand at him and quietly said, 'Enervate.' He leaned down and began to
shake the man's shoulder, 'Rab?' He said urgently 'Rab, are you okay?'

Rabastan moaned groggily.

'What the – ?' he said, emerging from the depths of steel, leather and wood. 'Merlin that will teach
me.' He said rubbing his head and looking around at the mess. His eyes widened, 'Shit! Help me
put this all back, Father will kill me. You can't tell them I let you in here. Bollocks, what a
disaster!'

'Are you alright Rab? That shield hit you square on the noggin. Maybe you should rest for a bit.'
Sirius said, the picture of concern.

Rabastan looked at his watch, 'No time mate, the goblin will be back in five. Bugger. I hope he's
running late.'

So Sirius helped him right the avalanche, very annoyingly without magic. But with two of them
they got it in some kind of order before the tell-tale sound of the little cart reached their ears.

'I better stand out here?' Sirius asked hastily, moving back towards the entry to the vault.

'Yes.' Rabastan said. His eyes sweeping the restored ordered fortune. 'Merlin that was close.'

Sirius banged on the door of the balcony to Hermione's hotel, 'Minne McGonagall's moggie minces
manically!' He called.

She appeared on the other side of the glass. Frowning at him. 'The visitor goes second.' she said
warily, her wand pointing at him.

'So? Come on, do you yours. Or just let me in, I don't have long – it's full moon and it's the first
Wolfsbane remember.'

'Just let you in?' she said, raising her wand slightly and glaring at him suspiciously.

'Yes,' he was so impatient to tell her, 'I have some good news.'

'What was the first thing you ever said to me?' She asked.

He sighed exasperatedly, 'I can't remember – I was totally wankered.'

'Sirius this is not a joke.'

There was a look in her eyes that told him to get on with it or they would be recovering the cup
from his full-body-bound corpse. 'It was something about the whiskey … you called me Mr
Ogden, um … you said Moony was the moon to my star? Hermione to be honest it's a total blur, we
went to the Thames – you were fucking weird and patted me on the head.'

'Okay fine,' she said and finally she opened the door, 'For your information, the first thing you said
was "that's my whiskey." You looked so grumpy, like a kid having his toys taken away, made me
wonder if I'd done the right thing.'

'Hermione, who cares? I told you – I was in my cups good and proper, you're lucky I remember
anything at all. But speaking of cups ….' He pulled the little golden Horcrux from his pocket.

Hermione's expression, which had been offense at the first part of his statement, changed to one of
amazement. Her eyes wide, her mouth curving from its stern, disapproving line into a broad smile.

'You did it!' she exclaimed, her voice high, 'You got it!' Then she threw her arms around his neck,
and he had to take a step back to steady himself from the impact as she slammed into him, she
looked up into his face and said, 'Fucking brilliant Sirius!' then kissed him full on the mouth.

The shock of her swearing, and the fact that she was actually kissing him made him freeze,
forgetting about the Horcrux completely, forgetting about everything. But before he could put his
magnificent snogging skills into action, she was pulling away and taking the cup from his still
hands.

Her cheeks were a little pink as she examined the Horcrux, and when she looked up at him he must
have looked puzzled because she said, 'What? I believe you were the one that insisted on reward
kisses.'

'Huh ... yeah … I guess.' He was desperately trying to think of something else he'd done that would
warrant such a reward.

'So how did you get it?' Hermione asked, her voice was quaking slightly, 'This is amazing Sirius,
you're so brilliant. We have them, All of them … I –' her voice trembled and broke.

Sirius was surprised to see tears in her eyes. He couldn't quite keep up, cautious, happy, kissing,
crying … his brain was struggling to process it all.

He'd never seen her cry, not properly. A little damp here and there but there were fat tears running
freely down her cheeks now as she looked at the little cup. Her shoulders began to shake and he did
the only thing he could think of - taking the cup from her and putting it on the bench, he wrapped
his arms around her and held her to him. That's what you do when girls cry. You hug them … even
if they should be happy?

'Sorry,' she said in a wobbly little voice, 'I'm just so relieved, you're wonderful, you got it, we have
them. It … the plan … it worked.'

'Of course it did.' he said, an ironic smile in his tone. 'You thought of it, now we just have to hope
Dumbledore can do his part.'

'Yes.' she said sniffing, her voice was muffled by his robes, 'Sorry … I've just been so worried, but
this is it, you get your life back now … no more family … It's over.'

"It's Over" The words seemed to echo in his head as he patted her on the back. It was. The bad and
the good … It was ending. He held onto her more tightly. Six weeks, that was all he had left.
Should he tell her? … Probably not right now, while she was crying into his robes … but soon. He
needed to talk to Remus, or James maybe. They would help. Oh crap, Moony.

'Hermione,' he said quietly, 'I'm really sorry, but I have to go, Remus is really anxious about
tonight. Prongs and I promised we'd go early just in case something goes wrong.'

'Oh right,' she said, pulling away from him, wiping her eyes. 'Sorry I –'

'Hey don't worry, you never cry, you're allowed … um, I wanted to talk to you – but it can wait. I'll
come by before work tomorrow, will you be up about seven?'

She nodded, 'Yes, nothing like a nights rest without the thundering snores of Sirius Black next to
me. She gave a watery chuckle and her lips twisted into a smile.

'Now, now,' Sirius said with a grin. 'You do not get to be mean to me; I am a conquering hero,
snoring is a small price to pay for the honour of my presence.'

To his great surprise she didn't scoff or roll her eyes, but instead hugged him again, and said, 'It
really is.'

He knew he was grinning like an absolute tosser as she withdrew and looked up at him. She had an
odd smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she said, 'Good luck for the moon, tell Remus I'm
thinking of him.'
 The Importance of Tea

14th September

By the time Sirius arrived at Remus's house he had cramp in his cheeks and his jaw ached from the
smile he just couldn't shake – but he didn't care.

He practically bounced to the front door of the rundown house, thinking that he'd never been this
sodding happy on a full moon in his life. The combined knowledge that he'd got the last Horcrux
and they had six weeks to wait til Hallowe'en, with nothing but Fiendfyre practice ahead of them,
was enough to make him feel this way. Then adding that Moony was not going to be a slavering
beast that Sirius had to chase around all night made it all the more brilliant.

But of course – best of all, Hermione had not only kissed him, but basically implied that she liked
him, enough to want him in her bed every night anyway. While that may not have meant what he
would like it to mean, it was a very respectable start.

'Moony, Moony, Moony!' He called in a sing-song voice as he knocked in rhythm, rocking back
and forth. Merlin, why couldn't he stop moving?

'Pads?' Remus's tired voice asked.

'Sure is, Moony mate!' Sirius confirmed cheerfully, massaging his cheeks with his fingers to try
and ease the pain his incessant grin was causing.

'Christ.' Remus muttered on the other side of the door, sounding put-upon, 'Are you drunk? You
better not be. You know what Padfoot's like if you transform pissed.'

'Ha! No need to worry Moony, just happy, your wolfy virtue is safe tonight.'

'Gross Pads,' he said, as Sirius laughed at his own – probably made in quite bad taste – joke. 'No, I
just meant you're no fun, all sleepy and growly. So, what did you do to Charlotte Jamieson in third
year charms?' Remus asked.

'Which time?' Sirius said impatiently, then in his haste to get the right answer so he could get
inside and tell Remus everything, words began to tumble from his mouth in the hope he would land
on the reply his friend was after, 'I turned her hair pink … but she liked it, so then I made her plait
float up in the air behind her all day… but she thought it was cute … then I levitated the skirt of her
robes … but she said she had good legs, so it didn't matter … then I changed her cat's hair blue …
but she said it matched her pink hair … so then I used an engorgement charm on it so it was like a
blue lion … but she said she'd always wanted a scary pet … Flitwick thought it was going to
swallow him … is that enough Moony? '

Remus gave a reluctant chortle 'Yes, I think so.'

Sirius laughed too, saying 'She was impossible to annoy. Brilliant bird.' He finished fondly.

Remus laughed softly 'Yes, it probably helped that she had a giant crush on you.'

'Didn't they all? At least she was fun, okay, what did James and I give you for Christmas in sixth
year?'

Remus laughed again, '"The Reproductive Habits of Wolves" with an inscription that said 'Get
some.' I was so happy when I thought you'd bought me a book. It turned out to be more than
useless however.

'Right.' Sirius said, his jittery excitement returning in full measure 'Now let me in! I have some
brilliant news!'

'Pads, you know my head hurts like a bitch on the day of the moon, are you going to calm down if I
open the door?'

'Probably not.' Sirius said honestly, but recognising Remus's "Prefect voice" he said, 'But I can be
quieter.' Lowering his voice to prove it.

It was best not to get on the wrong side of Prefect-Remus on moon day. The result was a wolf
trying to eat you that night, and stern lectures of little relevance the following morning.

Remus opened the door, he was pale, his forehead creased in a frown. Sirius bounded over the
threshold and across the room before collapsing into his customary armchair.

Remus was watching him, eyebrows raised, possibly concerned for his mental wellbeing, 'Brilliant
news?' he asked, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

Sirius was trying very hard to be quiet. Very hard. He didn't want to make Remus anymore
uncomfortable with his sore head, or grumpy with his prefectness than he already was, so he just
nodded in answer. Nodding was quiet.

His left leg jiggled up and down as he sat sprawled in the chair, like it was the only outlet for his
bubbling, disorientating happiness. He was afraid that he might explode once he began to speak – a
messy burst of words, whooping and perhaps a celebratory dance number – splattering all over the
walls of Remus' neat and tidy little house.

But Remus was looking at him expectantly and Sirius needed to tell him before James arrived, so
cautiously he opened his mouth and said in a small voice, 'I got the cup.'

He shut his mouth again quickly - the rest of the sentence was backed up against his teeth, I got the
cup - we did it! And Hermione kissed me! And I wasn't an idiot! And she was so impressed! And
Moony, I wasn't an idiot! But he held it in.

'You did? Pads, that's brilliant.' Remus's pale face looked so relieved.

He took the seat opposite Sirius, easing himself into it like an old man, and sitting very still. His
joints always ached this close to moonrise, so being as still as possible was the best idea.

Sirius chanced another whispered sentence, 'Yes, saw Rab at the bank, took me all afternoon, but I
got it.'

Remus had his eyes closed, and was leaning against the back of his chair heavily, but he was
grinning. 'Well done mate. I'll give you the required reaction tomorrow.'

Seeing his friend hurt reigned in some of Sirius's mad excitement. He'd hoped the potion would be
useful for making the whole process easier, but obviously not.

'I'll make the cuppa,' Sirius said softly, jumping to his feet in an act entirely at odds with his tone.
Remus and tea were best friends on the day of the full moon. 'Have you had your pain potion?'

'Can't,' Remus mumbled, 'It reacts badly with Wolfsbane, it better bloody work, I haven't been
through a transformation without painkiller since … god … maybe ever, maybe the first one … but
I can't really remember that.'

Sirius suddenly felt terrible for his friend, he filled the teapot and tapped it with his wand so steam
hissed from the spout. Then he collected mugs and sugar from the cupboards. Who was he to be
happy about kisses and bank shenanigans when Remus was suffering? He didn't know that the
werewolf would be sacrificing his pain potion for this test. 'What about muggle drugs?' Sirius
asked.

Remus opened an eye to look over at him, 'Padfoot, I'm not smoking anything. I have no idea what
it could do to this.'

'No, Moony.' Sirius said, with a roll of his eyes. They hadn't done that in years … well, months at
least. 'You know – like the pills they take for headaches, Hermione gave me some, they're quite
good.'

'Best not,' Remus said, 'just in case – don't want anything to mess this up. Hurry up with the tea
though, tea fixes everything.' He was smiling again, his eyes closed. 'So you got it? … So that's it
… now we wait.'

'Yup.' said Sirius, as he carried the metal teapot across the room in his right hand, sugar bowl
clamped between his side and elbow, milk in his left, and mugs swinging by their handles hooked
on his little finger.

Remus opened his eyes at the clinking and laughed quietly, 'Why didn't you just levitate them?'

Sirius looked up from where he was struggling to unload the tea needs onto the table without
making a huge racket of clanking china and tin, 'I dunno, listen Remus I need your advice – I know
your head hurts, but I want to talk to you before Prongs gets here.'

'Pour me some tea and I'll think about it.' Remus said, closing his eyes once more.

Sirius poured, sugared and stirred some tea into the biggest mug and thrust the cup into his friend's
hand. 'Okay, you ready?'

'Hold on.' Remus took a sip and a wide smile stretched across his face, then he said 'Now, let me
see … you are going to ask me what I think about you telling Hermione that you fancy her, now
that you have the Horcruxes, right?'

'Er … yes.' Sirius didn't realise tea turned werewolves into Legilimens. But apparently so.

'Right, well to be honest I don't know. She's leaving, you know that that –'

'I know, but I told you it's not just me anymore.' Sirius said, struggling to keep his voice low
'Moony she kissed me when I told her about the cup … she did, I just stood there … like a
perfectly stunned gentleman … and well … maybe we could work something out, I –'

'Sirius she is set on going back.' Remus said regretfully, 'Everyone she loves is there. You can't ask
her to stay –'

'But –'

There was a heavy knocking at the door and Remus winced, clutching his teacup for protection.

Sirius was on his feet and going to the door before Remus even asked him too. Wishing for the first
time ever that James had not arrived yet. He was so sick of secrets.

'Moony? It's Prongs.' James called loudly.

'Moony's head hurts,' Sirius said through the door, 'if I have to be quiet so do you.'

'Sorry,' James said in a guilty, hushed voice.

'How did you help me earn enough gold to buy my bike?' Sirius asked.

'Do you mean the over the summer, or at school?' James questioned.

'The summer.' Sirius said, a little disbelieving that he would have to ask, 'Prongs, you've been
cooped up too long – everyone knows we sold Firewhiskey at school, you're losing your touch.'

'You try being stuck inside for a year.' James said grouchily. 'We made fake I.D.'s so we could
work at the pub – I would like to point out that I own more of your bloody bike than you do –
considering you got the sack after ten days for giving free drinks to every skirt in the place.'

Sirius laughed, 'Yeah, brilliant, I still can't believe Charlus made you work for the rest of the
summer to teach you a lesson about messing with muggle stuff.'

James snorted through the door, 'Yeah, damn my pop and his morals. Okay, who got the first ever
detention out of the four of us?'

Sirius's smile faded, 'Pettigrew,' he said, 'two weeks into first year, he took the blame for our thing
with the telescopes.'

It was the event that had made them friends. James and Sirius had been quite nasty to Pettigrew for
the first fortnight at school. He was homesick and nervous, and therefore boring. So they had
picked on him.

But when the two boys had smeared everlasting ink on the eye-pieces of the telescopes on the
Astronomy tower, the Professor had lined the class up for a tell-tale hand inspection.

James and Sirius, black from fingertips to wrists with the stuff, had lurked at the end of the line
fretting – they weren't quite so brazen about troublemaking at the age of eleven – but to their great
surprise, and relief, Peter had turned out his palms to show them coated in the sticky dark ink.

James had said such a gesture could not be over looked, chubby numpty or not. So they had
become friends.

Sirius looked over at Remus who was watching him, merlin he was glad Remus knew.

'Forty eight, D.T.V.' Remus mouthed at him, Sirius nodded. They would get the little rat. He
latched on to the feeling again, he had got the cup. They were going to win. His smile reappeared.
He pulled open the door.

'Padfoot, mate.' James said quietly, grinning over at Remus before pulling Sirius into a hug, 'How
are you, how's the family going?' He asked, slapping him on the back as they broke apart.

'The usual bollocks,' Sirius said, with a shrug.

'And Hermione, is she dealing with them alright?' James went on, 'You should hear Lily, she thinks
it's so brilliant that a dirty little muggleborn has your troll mother seeing baby stars.'
Sirius laughed, his smile widening, 'Yeah, she's good. Brilliant at the role.'

There was a funny coughing from Remus's armchair and then he said 'It wouldn't matter if she was
terrible, Pads would still say she was perfect.' He laughed quietly, 'Can't you see the pink hearts in
his eyes Prongs?'

James actually looked into Sirius's eyes for a moment before saying in a voice of dawning
realisation, 'Oh yeah …' Then he received a swift punch to the arm.

'Shut up,' Sirius said. 'It's not that bloody bad.'

'Whatever,' Remus said, he was cradling his tea in his hands protectively and looking a bit better.
Or a bit more evil from Sirius' point of view.

'Moony enough. You're sick, so I can't thump you, that's cheating. Shut your trap or I'll eat you
when you're a tame little cub tonight.' Sirius's words were meant to sound threatening, but most of
the sting was taken out because they were whispered at the sniggering, tea-holding werewolf.

'So what is going on with you two?' James asked as he came to sit on the couch.

Sirius fell back into his armchair again, thinking that he didn't know why he'd thought it was a
good idea to talk to either of his friends about it. Now he just felt awkward.

'You said you were just mates,' James continued, 'but Rem says you sleep at hers, that's some
woman who'll shag you and not expect the rest.'

Sirius glared at Remus, 'You better enjoy that tea Moony – it will be your last.' Remus just smiled
smugly at him before closing his eyes again, nose buried in his beloved mug.

Sirius turned to James, 'Were not shagging, it's just that with the family stuff I was worried about
her, and then I was working heaps and spending the evenings at Grimmauld, I needed to keep her
up to date and I'd end up falling asleep, she's the one who said I should stay.

'Merlin, you are sleeping next to a bird every night and you're not shagging? No wonder Moony
thinks you're in love.' James looked genuinely surprised, and a little impressed. He leaned over to
pat Sirius shoulder, 'You're growing up … I never would have believed it.'

Remus's poorly stifled laughter grew louder at James's words. Then he winced as the noise seemed
to hurt his head.

'That will teach you.' Sirius said in his direction, before turning back to look at James, 'Mate, it's
not love, I don't think … I dunno it's weird … she's my friend, like a proper friend … but,' he
shrugged, embarrassed, 'what comes before that?'

His embarrassment was forgotten when he caught the look on James's face, Sirius had known him
for ten years and never once had he seen him looked so shocked. He chuckled as James stuttered
'You're … you're … not kidding are you?'

Sirius shook his head, 'Nope.'

'Then what's stopping you? So you might … er … care a little more about the outcome this time,
but it's not like you're a novice with women.' He shrugged.

Sirius was shamefully pleased to hear someone say he could do it, that he should do it. Since when
did he need to be bolstered up in his decisions?
He looked at Remus who shrugged too, 'Up to you.' He said, but he was grinning. Then he held his
empty cup out. Sirius took it from him and refilled it. As he passed the full mug back, he laughed at
the look on Remus's face.

James must have seen it too because he said, 'At least Moony will never be so wound up about a
girl, at least on moon day – he only ever has eyes for tea.'

He really did look a lot better, 'That's because tea never wants anything in return.' Remus said, with
childlike happiness on his face as he peered into his cup. 'It's perfect.'

James and Sirius both laughed. It had always been funny to them that in the very last hours before
the full moon rose, their clever and witty friend – so often full of half-meant reprimands, and
disapproving looks that were ruined when he rolled his eyes and grinned – would be nothing more
than a school boy, with a very large crush on his cup of English breakfast.

'So Pads,' James said, as Remus leaned back again and shut his eyes once more, 'Do you want me
to ask her on Saturday if she fancies you? Ha, it will be like school … brilliant.'

Sirius laughed, 'Sure, I'll write a note for you to give her – asking if she'll meet me behind the
greenhouses for a pash.'

Then the two men began to snigger, Sirius was feeling that same uncontrollable excitement,
tomorrow morning, he was going to finally do something about it. That thought, plus the
snickering coming from his friend, caused his laughter to double.

Darkness had fallen completely when their giggling subsided, every time they calmed down, they
would either catch Remus' expression of devotion to his teacup, or James would suggest some
equally ridiculous way for Sirius to broach the topic with Hermione, and they would be set off
again.

'So when is Pete getting here?' James asked with a hiccough as he noticed the time, 'Only an hour
to moon rise. I know you didn't want him to know about your mysterious potion Rem, but he's
going come right? I feel like we haven't done this properly in ages. One of us is always missing.'

'He was going to,' said Remus. He really did look much better Sirius thought, good thing too,
because Sirius could barely say Pettigrew's name without wanting to punch something. 'but his
mum took a bad turn this afternoon so now he can't.'

'Oh, that's a shame.' James said, 'You look better, do you think it's the potion?'

'Yeah … I feel kind of normal, it's weird, still hurt like hell but,' he looked at his watch, 'normally
by now I feel like I'm stoned out of my head … can't put a sentence together properly. But
obviously that's not a problem right now. It could just be the tea though … lovely.' He said with a
fond little smile into his cup.

Then he looked up again, and before the other two's laugher became uncontrollable he asked,
'How's Harry?'

'Annoying.' said James affectionately, 'Bloody kid, he can walk around if he holds onto stuff, so I
have to watch him every second. At least when it was just crawling we only needed to move things
out of knee height but now … he likes to climb stuff, oh, and he can talk.'

'What?' Sirius exclaimed, 'Like actually talking?'

'Nah, just bits. Seems like he only pays attention if I swear, then he'll blurt it out when Lily is
around and I get the death glare.' He laughed, ' Sometimes I think we shouldn't even be in hiding,
just shut Voldy in a room with Lily and her evil eye … he'd give up his dreams of world
domination just to get away from her. It makes your insides shrivel up.'

Sirius laughed too, and said, 'That would work if Old Snakey had insides, I know the look you
mean.' He shuddered 'Sort of like … no matter what you say, you know you'll never get out of it.'

'I believe it's called guilt.' Remus piped up.

Sirius and James both chuckled, 'You are so wise Moony.' Sirius said.

'Lily is really looking forward to the weekend, it was a good idea Rem – even Dumbledore said
he's going to make an appearance.' James said.

'I saw Fabian on Friday,' Remus said, 'I think Dumbledore is trying to keep his spirits up, he's
coming as well, asked if he could bring Vance, he's waiting for me to let him know. We don't want
too many people knowing where you are, just for the sake of party.'

'Yeah, Vance is cool, we trust her.' James nodded.

'Longbottom and Alice are coming.' Sirius added, 'She hasn't left the house in months either. She's
dying for an excuse to wear a frock Frank said. And to get away from his mother no doubt.'

'Lily's the same, she keeps popping out when I'm not expecting it, wearing something different and
saying "What about this? Is it better than the purple one?" James shook his head, 'Merlin, I don't
even remember the purple one. But anyway, should be a good do, that reminds me, one of you two
will need to get the food,' he dug pouch out of his pocket, it clinked as he tossed it to Sirius.

'Lily says she needs it by Thursday, so you two better feel sorry for me, stuck in a house full of
delicious food for two days and not being allowed to eat any of it. Total torture.'

15th September

Hermione was waiting for Sirius to arrive. Her was foot tapping impatiently as she sat at the little
dining table trying to concentrate on her book. The cup … Remus and the Wolfsbane … god, she
was so anxious and happy all at once.

The only thing that brought her down was her lack of mental excuses when it came to the way she
felt about Sirius. The only one she had left was that it would be weird when she went back. That he
wouldn't want to be her friend because he'd grown up for twenty years without her around, and
would possibly feel quite creepy that a twenty-one year old girl had a thing for him. It was also
likely that in those twenty years he would find someone else. Hermione couldn't help the twinge of
jealously that was directed at the unknown woman.

Since the gala she had been deviating between two strategies, she could either be herself and put
the work first and pretend that the idea of leaving wasn't making her more upset than the thought
of what would be waiting in the uncertain future. Or, she could live in the moment. Something she
had never done in her life. It was very hard to rationalise just doing what she wanted, when the
whole reason she was here was fixing other people's lives.

She supposed that one more notch on Sirius bedpost was hardly likely to effect the future, but she
worried that with their friendship, knowing and depending on each other through this whole thing –
it might end up being significantly more than a notch … for her anyway.
She may have matured a lot when it came to handling men since she began her relationship with
Ron, but for some reason all her carefully laid out logic concerning timelines and being
responsible, came crashing down in favour having a bit of fun with a very fit bloke. She smirked to
herself at the thought. Then grimaced, Lord, she should change her name to Romilda.

Sirius' knocking pulled her from her embarrassingly racy fantasies. She hurried to the door to see
him looking tired, but much less battered than usual for the morning after the moon. An excellent
sign.

'Hagrid helps harness huge horses.' Hermione said through the glass.

Sirius gave her a funny look and said, 'That was random.'

She shrugged, 'I'm running out. Your turn.'

'Lily loves lacy lingerie.' He said quickly.

Hermione giggled, 'And you say I'm random … I'm not going to ask how you know Lily's
preferences.'

'I don't,' He chuckled, 'but I do have a dirty mind.'

'It went well last night I take it?' she said, still laughing as she opened the door.

He smiled broadly, 'It did, he was a regular labradoodle. He says he owes you for the rest of his life
– I pointed out that he already did, that we all do, but he seems to think this is even bigger, well, he
did right after he transformed and wasn't bleeding, bruised and half dead anyway.'

'Oh, that's wonderful!' Hermione said happily. 'Coffee or tea?' She asked, going to the kitchen.

'Coffee.' Sirius said, taking a seat at the table, 'It might not have been the usual romp but I've still
been up for twenty four hours.'

She set about making two cups of instant, before looking over at him expectantly and saying, 'So
…?'

He jumped nervously, 'Er … right, so I wanted to … er …'

She didn't quite understand why he was hesitant to tell her about how he'd got the Horcrux, had he
done something awful to secure it? 'What happened?' she asked, 'I thought Pollux was with you, did
you wait around or something?'

His face was completely blank for a moment before he said, 'Oh yeah … Horcrux, um … no,
Grandfather left me and Rab at the pub, we'd met him at Gringotts doing stuff for his family's wills
and we went to lunch, then I helped him with the maths on the allotment forms for most of the
afternoon at the Leaky.'

As she poured hot water into their mugs, Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, impressed, 'I'll give
you that it was in a pub but …'

He smiled charmingly at her, 'I thought you'd like that.' He looked very proud. 'So then he asked
me to come along when he went to put the documents back.' His smile faded slightly, 'He's really
not a bad guy you know.'

Apart from torturing people into insanity, Hermione thought. 'Yes, so you've said.'
'So, we went to the vault – his family have all these brilliant old weapons and we were looking at
them. He was trying to find some arrows that went with a bow, dangerous looking thing, from
Turkey, and the whole bloody pile collapsed on him – I stunned him and took the cup. Then woke
him up and pretended a Viking shield had knocked him out – it's a good thing it didn't actually hit
him – would probably have taken his head off, it weighed a ton. But yeah … that's it. Piece of
cake.'

Hermione laughed as she put his coffee in front of him. 'You know, I'm really glad my Harry will
never know about any of this. He would be so livid that we've managed it so easily. After all the
rubbish he, Ron and I went through.' she shook her head, 'I'm still in shock.'

'Hey,' he said, with a mock serious look, 'you're not the one who had to feel-up Ludicrous. That was
suffering let me tell you – while you and Cissy lazed around being wino's, gossiping about my
manly prowess …' He sniggered.

Hermione blushed, and focused on her coffee. How odd that for all the made up nonsense she had
told Narcissa she was now hoping it wouldn't be need to be imagined for much longer. 'You did
brilliantly.' She said. 'So now … we wait, you and Remus need to keep working at the containment
though.'

He nodded before saying, 'Um … Hermione, there's something else … I wanted to … well you can
say no if you want … well, not really but….' Sirius said, his tone uncertain.

She looked at him, there was a little line of consternation between his brows, he looked down at
his cup before meeting her eyes again, 'So James is having a thing at his on Saturday, the girls
want an excuse to get dressed up … do you want to come … with me?'

'Of course.' she said, a little confused that he would be so weird about asking her, they always did
things together … unless … oh … this was this different … 'Like a date?' she asked hesitantly,
hoping that she had read him right, she didn't want to contemplate the awkwardness if she was
wrong.

He nodded, eyes glinting, a ridiculously wide grin on his lips, he pointed his finger at her, 'You
can't back out now – you already said yes.'

'Oh right.' she said, smiling too. As if she would.

 Cloak and Dagger

19th September

'On the 3rd of June the Traffic Enforcement unit of the Glasgow Central Police were presented
with a curious situation,' Remus read aloud to the small group of people in the Potters living room
on Saturday night.

'Upon noticing a '72 Rover Estate travelling at high speed in a residential area of our fine city the
Police gave chase, "The vehicle looked to be full of people" one of the policemen told our reporter,
"We had the lights on as we tailed them but they wouldn't stop, and kept increasing their speed as
we followed. My partner and I figured the vehicle must have been stolen so we put the siren on and
kept on them, then with no warning at all they pulled over." '

'I'll never forget the look on your face when we heard the siren Fab.' Sirius said reaching up from
his cross-legged position on the floor and clinking his bottle with Fabian Prewett's, who was sitting
in the armchair next to him and laughing, 'What's that?' He mimicked in a high voice, eyes wide –
looking around him for some unknown terror.

Fabian grinned and slammed the bottom of his beer onto the rim of Sirius's causing the contents to
froth rapidly up the neck of the bottle, forcing Sirius to shove it into his mouth to avoid it spilling
all over the carpet. He flipped two fingers at Fabian as Remus continued to read.

'Upon inspection of the vehicle the Police were confused to find it was completely empty, "The
engine was still running and the headlamps were on." The officer said. This was not the most
disturbing thing. What left the officers scratching their heads, was that although the engine was
running, there were no keys in the ignition, and no evidence the motor had been hotwired. There
was also no sign of forced entry – this pleased the owner of the Rover, who was very impressed to
learn his car could drive itself. He did say however that he would not be getting behind the wheel
until it had been thoroughly serviced – Mr Johnstone of "Johnstone & Sons Motors" said that this
unusual occurrence will be investigated, and is waiting for word from the manufactures on the best
course of action. He also advised that all other similar models should be brought in for a once-
over to make sure there are no recurring incidents….'

'Jammy bugger!' Lily said with a giggle from beside Hermione on the couch, 'Trying to make
money from people's superstitions.'

The others were all laughing heartily. Hermione could feel herself blushing at their toasts, 'To
Hermione! Birthday girl and car thief!'

It had turned out that "The Thing" at the Potters was a birthday party for Hermione. She hadn't
even known Sirius was aware it was her birthday. She had looked at him in surprise when they
were shown to the sitting room by James, to find Lily and Remus, Frank and Alice Longbottom as
well as Emmeline Vance and Fabian Prewett waiting for them (all of whom had shouted "Happy
Birthday!" with quite unnecessary volume) Sirius grinned and said, 'While I'd like to take credit,
you know me better than that.' He'd pointed at Remus whose face was lit with glee as he saw her
surprised reaction.

'How did you know?' she asked Remus.

'I know everything.' He said, smirking proudly.

'It was in your notes, your conversation with Dumbledore.' Sirius whispered so the others wouldn't
hear.

'You were reading my notes?' Hermione asked him, shocked far more by this, than the surprise of a
birthday party.

Sirius scoffed, 'As if - Moony again.' Then he winked and said, 'But it seemed a good excuse for a
shindig.'

'Why didn't the Ministry cover it up?' Hermione asked Remus, who now finished his recital had sat
on the floor, leaning against the side of the sofa next to James's legs as he laughed, folding the
piece of worn newsprint and tucking it away.

He shrugged through his chortles, 'I don't know, but I'm glad they didn't – I only found this by
mistake, in the library archive. I was bored so I was having a look through the old papers. I nearly
got kicked out because I couldn't stop laughing – honestly, muggle librarians are way scarier than
Pince.

The others laughed again as he shuddered exaggeratedly.

'The Ministry didn't do anything,' Frank Longbottom said, sounding both long-suffering and
amused, 'because we didn't know about it – you lot caused enough of a disturbance that night, half-
destroyed buildings and a noisy duel in the middle of the street were quite enough for the Magical
Reversal Squad to worry about. A small matter like car thievery went by the wayside.'

His wife Alice was looking at Remus in confusion, 'You were bored so you were reading old
muggle newspapers?' She turned to Frank, 'I though you said Black was the weird one.'

Sirius sat up from where he had been lying on the carpet overcome with mirth and gave Frank a
disgruntled look before saying to Alice, 'No I'm the mad one, Remus is the weird one.' Laughter
shook the little group again.

Emmeline, who had come with Fabian and was perched on the arm of his chair, looked over at
James and said, 'So what does that make you Potter?'

'The unfortunate one.' James said immediately with a look of self-pity – a look which earned him a
glare from Sirius, and a quick whack to his unshod big toe from Remus's empty bottle. Lily and
Hermione giggled again as he clutched at the injury in pain – Remus was spared retaliation at that
point because there was a loud knocking at the front door.

James got to his feet – well, foot, and hobbled out of the room to perform his duties has Master of
Entry to the little house.

'Who is it?' Hermione heard him ask, and she was surprised that his voice could switch from
whining at toe-pain, to threatening in such a small space of time.

'A doddering old fool and his rather surly side-kick.' Dumbledore's voice answered, quickly
followed by a growl Hermione recognised as Alastor Moody's, 'Ain't your bloody side-kick old
man.'

'What did you say to me when I was made Head Boy?' James asked, obviously trying not to laugh
at the introduction.

'Many things.' Dumbledore said, 'But I believe the clincher was "Don't make me regret this Mr
Potter."'
James did laugh then. 'Yes.' he said.

'Who was present at the first detention you had to oversee during said Head Boy duties?'
Dumbledore asked.

James laughed again, 'That would be Misters Black, Pettigrew and Lupin, Sir.' James said.
'Because they had caused such a kerfuffle at the welcome feast, by sticking a crown to my head
and a sodding sceptre to my hand.'

Dumbledore laughed, 'Yes, hardly a punishable offence alone, but when they were still unmovable
the following morning I could not overlook it.'

'Are we going to stand out here chatting all night?' Moody grumbled.

There was the sound of the door opening and closing before Dumbledore and Moody appeared in
the doorway to the sitting room.

'Welcome Professor, Mr Moody.' Lily said, jumping to her feet, 'Thanks for coming.'

'Lily my dear, Dumbledore said, moustache twitching, 'an excuse to forget our troubles and be
entertained by the japery of youth? We would not miss it for the world.'

Moody grunted, 'Speak for yourself.'

'Oh cheer up Mr Moody.' Lily said planting a kiss on his cheek and giggling again – she and
Hermione had already made an impressive dent in the bottle of red that sat on the floor next to their
vacated positions on the couch, Hermione had stood too - joining Lily in greeting the new comers.

'Ah, the birthday girl.' Dumbledore said his gaze falling on her, 'Many happy returns.'

'Thank you Professor.' she said, 'I didn't know you were coming, I didn't know this was happening
at all actually.'

'Yes Mr Lupin thought it was a good excuse, after all in troubled times we must remember to live
as well.' Hermione smiled at him. 'Now I was led to believe there would be some of Rosmerta's
mead, please don't tell me I was lured here under false pretences.'

'Of course not Professor.' Lily said. 'Follow me.'

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and looked at Moody, 'A promising start.' he said, before
following Lily from the sitting room.

'Moody, beer?' Sirius asked from where he was still half sprawled on the floor, conveniently next
to the ice bucket Hermione noticed.

Moody gave a gruff nod and Sirius flung a dripping bottle at him. Moody caught it easily in the
hand that wasn't occupied with walking stick and looked at it, 'Muggle is it?'

'Yup.' said Sirius. 'Brilliant stuff.'

'We'll see.' said Moody, he tromped over and took one of the empty seats next to James on the
couch, prodding him out of the way with the end of his cane.

Dumbledore re-entered the room, looking satisfied to have acquired his mead, 'Ladies,' he said,
'Lily has asked for some assistance with the food – she says the reward is peace and quiet from this
uncouth lot.' All six men looked somewhat offended and Dumbledore chuckled as he sat next to
Moody, 'Her words, not mine. I'm partial to an uncouth lot.' He added happily, sipping at his drink.

And so, in a tradition older than time itself - at least for as long as there had been parties -the
women found themselves in the kitchen, cloistered away from the men, and the ruckus they were
making with arguments about Quidditch and other such manly pastimes.

They ventured forth only to deliver food and bring back empties, pretending to be annoyed that
they were slaving away while the male of the species lazed about, but really very happy because
the wine was kept in the kitchen, and the platters of not-yet-served food wouldn't be missed if they
were never known about in the first place.

On one such trip to the lion's den to collect half-eaten antelope carcases (three scrunched up bags
vacant of crisps, and a bowl that had once contained dip, but was now just a scraping, and
confusingly, four peanuts and a bottle cap) Hermione was entertained by Sirius and Remus on the
floor, choking with laughter – Sirius ruffling his friends hair and saying, 'It was all this gits fault,
and he was the only one to get off scot free!'

Frank pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. 'With you lot it was just easier to look the other way
most of the time.'

'Prongs! Tell the one about Defence in seventh –'

'Merlin,' said Emmeline, who had come along to help with carcass haulage (eight empty bottles –
two of which had the ever-present peanuts floating in the dregs) 'this lot will be a right off
tomorrow.'

There was a giggle next to them, Lily had appeared to deliver a nut-free bowl of dip and more
crisps, 'That's why you have kids,' she said, 'nothing like a one year old squealing in your ear to
make you regret ignoring your wife all night in favour of the boys and booze.'

The three of them giggled as Remus shuffled a pack of tattered cards he had got from who knew
where, and said surprisingly ominously, 'So gents … how 'bout we play a little game?'

'That would be our cue to leave.' Emmeline said.

It was eleven o'clock, and another bottle of lovely merlot later before Hermione saw Sirius again,
she had been taking a towel to the little washhouse next to the back door – a towel covered in a
unappealing mix of broken china, tiramisu and pinot noir – that had all come together in a rather
spectacular moment of uncoordinated flamboyance, when Lily had insisted Hermione show her
how to dance.

This unusual request had come about when Alice had said Frank mentioned Hermione having a
pretty dress on at the Gala. Alice had thought it must have been something extremely beautiful for
Frank to notice at all, and so the other three women begged her for details. Thus leading to a
discussion of the Gala itself and from that, Lily's sudden desire to learn to dance.

It turned out that Hermione was an appalling teacher.

As she dropped the disastrous dancing evidence into the sink, Hermione saw Sirius and James
standing on the back step through the little window of the wash house. They were leaning on each
other talking, and Sirius was smoking.

She went to the back door and opened it, 'What are you two doing hiding out here?'

'Nothing,' they answered in unison, almost guiltily, force of habit more than anything else,
Hermione thought.

'Just having a wee chat Miss Fehr,' Sirius elaborated, 'would you like to join us?'

'No,' she said with a smile, 'I left my glass unattended it will have vanished if I don't return to
rescue it.'

Both men laughed, 'Actually Pads I'm for another now, do you want one?'

Sirius held his bottle up to the light, peering near-sightedly at it, 'Nah mate,' he said, 'I'm good for
now. Merlin, good for a while to be honest.'

James laughed. 'Too right mate, I can't believe you lost, you never lose.'

Sirius shook his head. 'Moody's a dirty cheater, I'll just finish this.' he added, and lifted his hand to
show his half smoked cigarette.

As James passed Hermione he said, 'I know for a fact Lily has tiramisu, but I haven't seen it yet,
have you birds eaten it all?' His eyes were a little droopy behind his glasses as he spoke.

Hermione laughed, 'Er … it wasn't really eaten, so much as … destroyed.'

'Ah.' James said sadly, 'It's always the innocents who suffer most.' He snickered and headed back to
the kitchen, on a dessert-driven quest no doubt.

Hermione went to follow James and collect her wine, but Sirius said, 'Hermione, wait a sec,' she
turned back to him, 'Some date.' he grinned apologetically, 'Sorry about that.'

She shrugged, a little uncertain, 'No worries, are you having a good time?'

'Yup,' he said, 'Are you?'

'Yes, although you are a much better dance instructor than I,' she admitted, 'we had a small
calamity in the kitchen just now.'

He laughed, 'Really? Brilliant.' he took a final drag on his smoke before drawing his wand. Sirius
flicked the butt into the air like a clay bird and vanished it with a wave of his wand.

'Show off.' Hermione muttered.

He smirked, 'You know it. So …' he said, in an entirely different tone as he came to join her in the
open doorway, 'seeing as how this is a date … rubbish or not … and we're standing on a doorstep
… even if it's not yours …' He looked down at her, taking a step closer, 'What do you think the
correct protocol would be … given the circumstances?'

She met his eyes, there was the same ever present mischief lurking in the grey, blurred slightly by
the alcohol she could smell on his breath, which strangely smelt like whiskey rather than the beer
he held in his hand, the corner of his mouth curled up as he waited for her to answer.

'Well …' she said, playing along, 'Being that it's a first date, I would hazard a guess at a polite kiss
on the cheek.'

He was even closer, 'Wrong.' He said, before he leaned in and claimed her lips, he tasted of drink
and smoke and his hand was clumsy as he cupped her jaw but it didn't matter. She responded
eagerly, this was the whole reason she'd wanted to go on a "date" in the first place.
Losing herself in the feel of him pressed against her and his fingers trailing down the side of her
neck and into her hair, Hermione was startled to hear a high-pitched giggling close at hand.

She turned her face away from Sirius to see who it was, and to possibly tell them to bugger off,
when she saw Lily and Emmeline clutching each other hysterical with glee.

'Sorry!' Emmeline gasped, holding her side and leaning on Lily for support. Lily dragged her back
into the kitchen and Hermione looked at Sirius again – intent on picking up where they left off.

But he had backed away, the moment seemed to have passed.

'Merlin, those two are going to have sore heads in the morning.' Sirius said with a soft chuckle, He
sat down heavily on the top step, stretching his legs out in front of him. He leaned back on his
hands to look up at her, grinning dazedly with his eyes half closed. Hermione recognised the look,
she hadn't realised he was that drunk before.

'They will.' She agreed 'They've been pestering me for details all night, like a couple of school
girls. Lily seems to think this,' Hermione flicked her finger between them, 'is some big deal.
Though I hope school girls wouldn't put away quite so much wine.' She added as an afterthought,
as she sat on the step beside him.

'Yeah,' Sirius laughed quietly, 'I may have told them a little too much, it's been driving me mad for
months. Sorry I had to let it out.'

'You told them about the Gala … and the Malfoys?' Hermione asked, feeling her face start to burn,
Harry's mum knew she was easy tramp when pissed, brilliant. 'No wonder Lily wouldn't stop with
the questions.' Hermione muttered.

'I only told Moony, but it turns out he can't keep a secret from Prongs to save his life. He's been
giving me shit ever since we got the diary.'

'What, because we were drunk and kissed? I wouldn't have thought they'd bother to tease you about
that … hardly something out of the ordinary in your life.'

'No,' Sirius said, shaking his head, 'because that's when I realised I liked you. That's why I wanted
to tell Moony the truth about our mission. Well, and because he's dead clever and stupidly helpful,
but mainly because I had no fucking idea what to do. But it doesn't matter now.' Sirius smiled
sideways at her and nudged her with his elbow. 'I figured it out. Now I just have to get you to give
up on your foolish notion of going back, and all will be brilliant.' He slung his arm around her
shoulders.

Hermione stiffened, 'You shouldn't joke about that.' she said quietly, thinking that Sirius must be
really smashed to say so much, it wasn't like him at all to talk of liking her. They were just passing
the time … weren't they?

'I'm not.' He said confidently, as he pulled her closer to him, 'I've got six weeks. You'll see.'

'Sirius,' Hermione said sadly, 'I'm going back … I have to … I thought we were just, you know …'

'Just what?'

'Having a bit of fun … I'm …' She realised how hurtful the words sounded as they left her mouth,
she was glad he wasn't fully coherent, it wasn't like she didn't want to have something more with
him, but it wasn't part of the plan. Five months here – then go back, that was what she'd set out to
do. What was the point of furthering anything when it would just make it harder?
Sirius grunted and withdrew his arm, 'Right,' he said shortly, the peaceful tone in his voice had
vanished. 'I didn't realise that's what this was.' he huffed out a heavy breath and said bluntly, 'So
my place or yours then?'

'That's not what I meant.' Hermione said hastily, with nervous laugh, 'Sorry, too much wine, it's
just, you know, while I'm here … I thought you wanted … I'm sorry, forget it.' stop talking now!
she told herself.

'No, you're right.' Sirius said nastily. 'In forty two days we'll burn the Horcruxes, Dumbledore will
kill Riddle and until then we'll fuck. Why bother with anything else? Come on.' He made to stand
up, staggering on the narrow stoop.

'Sirius, listen,' Hermione said aghast, looking up at him, He had never spoken to her like that
before. He was glaring furiously at her, this was going horribly wrong.

'No I get it, I'm pretty fit, so why not right?' He sneered as he stood over her, 'Spent my life fucking
around until I met you, so what's the difference? Let's go – I'm sure you won't be disappointed.' He
tugged at her hand.

'I … Sirius no.' Hermione said, pulling her hand from him, horrified that she had offended him so
badly, that her happy, mad friend was talking to her like he hated her.

'I just meant that because I'm leaving, and I am going to leave – I'm scared that it will make it too
hard. I'm sorry I really just thought … you know, I mean we're friends, good friends that's going to
be difficult enough to deal with losing but if …'

'I get it.' he said, voice harsh.

'No Sirius, I don't think you do.' Hermione said, her own temper rising, 'I have to go back – I don't
exist here. There are no records, I'm two years old for goodness sake! I thought you understood
that we were just … god, I don't know what – but you're meant to be my friend. So don't be an
arsehole.' She glared up at him, 'I'm so grateful that you've helped me with this, you're so different
from the Sirius I knew – well usually, you're behaving more like him tonight than I have ever seen
– But feelings?' Her voice shook, 'How could you … Do you think I want to leave?'

Sirius didn't answer so Hermione went on, the words spilling from her and her voice trembling as
she tried to keep her cool, 'You've done everything I could have asked of you when I came here,
better than I ever thought. You're bloody amazing, you do it all and don't complain. I am so lucky
to have you help me, this whole thing has gone perfectly and it's because of you. But you've always
known I was leaving, why do you have to make it harder?'

He had listened to her tirade with his arms crossed and his head down, his messy hair hiding his
face. He didn't look at her as he let out an angry huff and retorted, 'Because. Because I don't do this
shit. Why do you think? You come here like some fucking hero, all plans and kindness and
understanding, helping Moony and saving everyone and sodding tea and macaroons – what did you
think was going to happen? It's not my fault, it could happen to anyone.' He exhaled heavily, and
lifted his head to send her a furious look before he continued, 'And anyway, it's going to be too hard
for you after Hallowe'en? Are you kidding me? Fuck, try twenty fucking years! Just losing you as
mate for that long is a pretty horrible idea. You can't blame me for wanting you to stay. I'll be old
and gross have to watch you with some young bloke and it will be fucking awful and –'

'Sirius stop. This is crazy.' Hermione said, totally stunned at his vehement argument, he was talking
like they were a couple, like she'd lead him along. But she hadn't, they just …
'No, you don't get it.' He interrupted her thought, 'You keep saying how you're worried about what
you're going back to, so just fucking stay. Not because of me, but you're happy here, Remus and
James and Lily, you'd still know Harry, and his mate – what if you go back and you don't know
any of them? At least if you're here you will. And you're right we are friends. But …'

Sirius broke off abruptly and he swayed, throwing out a clumsy hand to brace himself against the
wall of the house. He was suddenly very pale, Hermione could see sweat popping out on his
forehead.

'Sirius … are you –'

Then he retched and there was a splattering sound as he vomited all over the step. He staggered and
she lunged forward to catch him. Hermione had had no idea he was that drunk, he hadn't seemed
any worse than her.

Sirius was too heavy for her to hold alone, so she pushed him against the wall, looking inside for
help. Someone was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, 'Help!' Hermione called to them. It was
Remus, he turned to her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.

'Shit.' he said, rushing out to take his friends weight, 'Is he pissed or did you jinx him?'

'Pissed.' Hermione said, 'But he really didn't seem that bad.'

'Moony,' Sirius mumbled, leaning on his friend, 'Tell her she has to stay.'

Remus looked at her, his eyes narrowed, 'What happened?' Remus didn't seem to be struggling at
all holding up a man who was slightly taller than himself and didn't have control over his own
knees.

'We sort of had an argument, I offended him, Remus, I thought he just wanted to … er … mess
around.' Hermione said, embarrassed to share something so personal, 'But he was so angry,'

Remus sighed, 'That's because he's an idiot. Aren't you Pads?' He gave Sirius a little shake.

'What?'

'A daft idiot.' Remus confirmed.

'Mmph'

'Well do you want him at yours tonight, or should I take him to his flat? He's not normally much of
a spewer, but he lost my little game, had to drink a cup full of merlin knows what. Whiskey and
Dumbledore's mead, something Moody tipped in from his flask – he was quite keen to see Padfoot
lose, it was evil.'

'Jesus.' Hermione said, annoyed and frustrated that she had just had a totally pointless argument
with a drink sodden git.

'So am I taking him to yours then? Or are you angry at him for hoping?' Remus looked a little
angry himself.

God, what was up with everyone tonight? 'No of course not.' Hermione said. 'He can come to
mine.'

'Good.' Sirius said thickly against Remus shoulder, 'Your bed is brilliant.'
'Remus?' called Lily's voice from inside, 'Where are you? James has just puked all over the sofa I
need your help moving him.'

Remus snorted, 'Bloody lightweights.'

Hermione sighed, useless men.

20th September

A loud grunt of discontent woke Hermione the following morning.

She rolled over to face Sirius where he was sprawled on the covers, fully dressed, he even still had
his shoes on Hermione realised, there were little clumps of caked mud all over the bedspread.
'Serves you bloody right.' she said.

'Fuuuuck.' Sirius groaned, burying his head in the pillow, continuing to mumble unhappily.

'You, are a world class idiot.' she said to him sternly.

'Water?' he pleaded.

'Get it yourself. Arse.' she huffed, so he'd been drunk – it didn't mean it was okay for him to be so
rude to her.

He retracted his head from the pillow and inch so he could speak, 'Why do you hate me? I'm
dying.'

'Because you are a twat.' she said honestly. She didn't hate him of course, but she couldn't get the
look on his face as he'd sneered at her out of her mind, and she was angry at herself for feeling
guilty that it was her fault.

'But I've always been a twat … you didn't used to mind.' His voice was muffled by the pillow
again, but she could hear genuine confusion in his tone. It did a lot to remind her that this douche
of a man was her best friend here – and that he would probably feel terrible for the things he had
said.

Hermione couldn't help but grin a little. It was going to be okay after all, she hid her face in her
own pillow for fear he would see her smiling and her reprimand would be ruined. 'You reached a
higher plane of twatiness.' she said, keeping her voice cool.

'Nughg,' Sirius grunted, 'I remember being royally pissed at you.'

'I think royally pissed in general would cover it.' Hermione said, trying to give him an excuse so
they could forget about it. It wasn't like she was angry at him for liking her. That would be cruel,
especially since she felt the same way. She just couldn't do anything about it – so why address it?

'Fuck I'll say.' he groaned, 'What did we fight about?'

'You telling me to stay.' she said.

'Urgh, that's right.' Sirius's forehead furrowed as the argument seemed to come back to him, 'Did I
puke on you?' he asked suddenly.

'Next to me,' she said, 'it was a close call.'

'Good. Dirty trollop, only wanting me for my sexy body.' His words were light but there was an
inflection to them that made Hermione think he was still a bit annoyed at her.

'Wanting to kiss you does not make me a trollop,' Hermione said at once, 'and I did try to explain,'
she added, 'but you misunderstood, you wouldn't listen.'

'It's sodding hard to listen when Moody has poisoned you.' He was definitely annoyed.

'Are you still angry or can I explain now?' Hermione asked, unable to stop herself from matching
his huffy tone.

'Best not.' He said dismissively, rolling away from her, 'I didn't know that's what was going on. Got
a bit pissed and said too much, I'd rather not be reminded.'

'Sirius,' Hermione said to his back.

'Don't,' he said harshly, 'I got carried away, thought we were more than just –' he broke off,
swallowing his sentence and Hermione realised just how much her words had hurt him. 'Just forget
it.' he said, 'Like you said - king of the twats.'

'Are you still angry?' Hermione asked, stupid question.

'Yes, but if you bring me some water I might forgive you.' He muttered, still facing away from her.
Then he sighed, and flopped over onto his back. 'At least it worked.'

'What worked?' Hermione asked, 'I'm still not staying.'

Sirius grimaced, 'You made that pretty clear.' Hermione could see a muscle twitching in his
clenched, stubbled jaw as he replied irritably, 'No, the cloak – not everything is about you.'

'The cloak?' Hermione asked, trying to keep the hurt his hard tone was causing out of her voice.

'Yeah.' Sirius said exasperatedly, 'That's why we had the stupid party remember?'

'Um … no,' Hermione said. She'd thought it was an excuse to get pissed, disguised as a birthday
party.

'Moony said he told you, or was going to tell you.'

'No, Sirius … what? What the hell are you talking about?' Hermione hated not understanding
something and he was talking to her like she was an idiot.

'Dumbledore needed to get the cloak from James for Hallowe'en.' Sirius said impatiently, rolling
his eyes. 'Come on, what's with you?'

'Sirius, don't snap at me, I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'The cloak.' He said, as though speaking to so a small, dim child. 'The letter, he was meant to have
already given it to Dumbledore. Merlin keep up.' He glared at her.

'Okay, I'm going to get you some water and you are going to start at the beginning.' Hermione said
sternly.

'Don't be a bitch.' He shot at her, 'I'm not in the mood.'

Her mouth dropped open. He was seriously angry at her. Like proper anger, she'd seen him angry
on many occasions but it had never been directed at her. Was it really because she didn't know
what he was talking about? That seemed unlikely she thought, as she left the bedroom in silence
and fetched him a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen.

No, it was because she'd insulted his bloody ego.

She plucked two headache pills from her handbag on her way back to the bedroom, not sure if she
should waste them on his stupid head, but threw them into his lap as she entered anyway. Thinking
that he had some nerve to be shitty when she was the one that had been shouted at and nearly
spewed on.

She thrust the glass at him without speaking. Sirius swallowed the pills and glugged the water
back. 'Right.' Hermione said, 'Tell me.'

'Fine.' Sirius glowered at her, 'So Remus said that he noticed in your notes that Dumbledore was
meant to get the cloak from James before Lily wrote to me when I got back from Ireland.'

Oh god, Hermione thought. He was right, how had she missed that? What had they done to stop
that highly necessary event from happening? Dumbledore needed it for the ambush but he couldn't
ask for it because then James would wonder how he knew about it, and why he wanted it.

'But James still had it,' Sirius said, speaking to the ceiling, 'so we decided to stage the party, invite
Dumbledore and get James to tell him about the cloak – why do you think I was playing that stupid
game with him?'

'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

'I thought Moony had, after I asked you to come with me …' he shook his head, 'Idiot.' he muttered,
'Remus said he would tell you all about it when he came with books on Thursday.'

'He didn't come round, he's been busy with Dumbledore all week.'

'Oh right,' Sirius said, 'well that was why we had the party, and James got shitfaced and showed
him the cloak, and Dumbledore asked to borrow it, and he said yes – so all is right again.'

'Good,' Hermione said, unable to believe that she had missed such a crucial problem. 'Sirius I'm
really sorry for making you angry.'

'Don't be.' He said in a resigned voice, still not looking at her, 'I just thought … no, don't worry.
Jumped to a conclusion. I shouldn't have.'

'It's not that I don't like you, really,' Hermione said imploringly, 'but I'm not supposed to be here. I
don't exist, the Ministry, all of it. There are no records, I could never have a job, or get an
apparition licence, Sirius it can't work. My parents, and Harry and the Weasley's I …'

Sirius's hard look faded a little. 'Like I said, jumping to conclusions.' He swung his legs form the
bed and said, 'I need to go, Prongs will need a hand cleaning up, and me and Remus are going to
practice the fyre again.'

'But you always hang out here on Sunday morning,' Hermione said, confused.

Sirius shrugged, 'Yeah well, we're on a time limit, need to make sure your departure goes as
planned.'

'Will you come back? Tonight I mean?' Hermione asked, hating the way it made her sound weak.
'Depends I guess, haven't been home in a while. Zoff will be pretty glad to see me. He's a grouchy
git when I'm not around.'

'Okay,' Hermione said in a tiny voice as she realised that she had ruined everything. These next
weeks were going to be very lonely without him. Tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes and
her throat was painfully tight.

'Don't look like that.' Sirius said angrily, 'You don't get to be sad. It's your choice.'

His snappish tone gave her a little bit of strength. He really didn't need to be so mean. 'Don't be a
wanker,' Hermione said, 'I've never said I was going to stay. Ever. I don't see how you think you
have a right to be such a bastard about this.'

'What?' he said incredulously, 'How many times have you been told someone just wanted a shag
for a few weeks before they left you alone for twenty years? Can you blame me for thinking that's
a bit harsh?'

'God!' she said, 'This is what I was trying to say last night! I can't stay – so we'll both end up feeling
like shit. What's the point?'

Hermione couldn't hold it in anymore, tears slipped from beneath her closed lids. She put her face
in her hands to hide them, willing her shoulders not to shake, and forcing the sob that threatened
back down. How could it have gone so wrong … he was right … it really didn't seem so callous in
her head, but said out loud … it sounded like she wanted to use him.

After a few minutes sitting with her face hidden, berating herself for causing him look at her like
she was the most selfish person on earth, just because she had hurt feelings she didn't even know
he had, the mattress dipped beside her as he sat down with a heavy sigh.

He butted her gently with his shoulder. 'Come on now Granger.' He said quietly, his voice was
clipped and cool, 'Enough of that.'

Hermione swallowed and spoke very slowly to control her wavering voice, 'I'm really sorry Sirius,
honestly, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.'

'Feelings,' He scoffed, 'let's just go with, "you didn't mean to insult me" alright? I feel enough of
bird as it is.'

She peered through her fingers at him. He didn't sound irrational anymore, just sad. He wasn't
smiling, or anything close, but at least his jaw was no longer clenched.

Sirius saw her looking at him hesitantly through the safety of her fingers, 'Oh, for fuck sake.' He
said with a bizarre noise of exasperation, he looped his arm around her shoulders reeling her into
his side.

He didn't hate her … that was a good start.

He was quiet for a while then he said, 'This is good of you … behaving like a normal person.'

'What?' she asked, her voice cracked a little.

'Well, just that you never react like I expect, you're always totally unshakeable … I'd started to
think you were some … I don't know, but anyway, it makes it seem a bit more bearable, still total
bollocks, but bearable.'
'I'm not sure I follow,' Hermione said uncertainly.

'Neither do I,' he sighed, 'look, I didn't mean to be such a twat alright?'

'I knew you were already.' Hermione said softly, 'I'm sorry for…' she trailed off, uncertain how to
some-up her annoyance at herself for forgetting that he had just as much on the line as she did, and
was obviously struggling with some pretty new emotional discoveries.

'Wanting me, even though it will distract you from the mission?' He suggested.

'Yes.' she said, and was a little concerned by the tiny spark of hope in his tone. But she didn't want
to make things worse. 'Who knew you'd even be able to distract me?' she said ironically.

He shook her shoulder and sighed, 'It is inconvenient timing,' she could finally hear her friend in
his voice again. 'You could have told me when you arrived.'

A tiny laugh escaped her lips as she said, 'I wasn't aware it was possible until recently.'

She felt his chest reverberate as he held in his amusement.

'Sirius?'

'Mmm?'

'You smell like spew.'

'Good. You deserve it.'

 Hostage

24th September

'Padfoot?' The sound of Remus's voice was accompanied by a quick knocking on the door to
Sirius's flat, and Sirius groaned under his breath. Remus was here again. Here to tell him to stop
being a child. But he wasn't being a child – he was being sensible.

Five days since he lost Moony's stupid game, at the stupid party, and opened his stupid mouth, and
stupidly, stupidly blurted out, what he had managed to keep mostly to himself for two months.

He was being sensible. Rare, but stranger things had been known to happen – aliens for example –
Sirius had visited Hermione twice, trying to keep up appearances that all was well, but it was very
difficult, not because he wanted her to stay – which he did, and he couldn't understand why she
wouldn't even consider it – but because she pitied him. It was awful. He wanted her to be annoyed
at him for being a selfish git, or sad that their adventure was ending. Anything but pity.

He got up from his stool at the counter, shoving the letter he'd be struggling with under the
mountain of mail that was mostly unopened. Zoff gave a disapproving hoot from the stool next to
him.

'Leave it birdy.' Sirius said quietly to the owl.

Zoff gave him a look that quite plainly said, 'How dare you get my hopes up with letter writing,
only to abandon it halfway through for a conversation you don't want to have with an insistent
werewolf?'.

Sirius scowled at him, 'You like Moony,' he admonished, 'only for his extremely prompt replies,
but you still like him.'

Sirius fancied that Zoff rolled his eyes. Then Sirius realised that he had moved on from being an
internal woman who behaved, in Remus's opinion, like a child and was now teetering on the edge
of general madness.

Sirius left the little kitchen and went through to the sitting room to answer the door. Glancing
around he was glad that he couldn't be bothered cleaning up. It would give Remus something
different to tell him off for. He was quite sick of their circular conversations.

'That you Moony?' Sirius asked when he reached the heavy door.

'Yes,' came the exasperated voice of his friend, 'But if I was a Death Eater I would say yes.'

Sirius couldn't help but smile, he might be a mad-womanly-child but he still took pleasure in
annoying his friend. 'But a Death Eater wouldn't get so grouchy about it.' Sirius said through the
door.

Remus's eye-rolling was so loud Sirius could hear it. 'What did you accuse me of in fourth year the
day before we went on Christmas holiday?'

'Fourth year…' Remus mumbled, 'I swear Pads, you're actually going to get me with one of these
one day … oh I know,' he said with a chuckle, 'that was the morning my pillow tried to beat me to
death. You were laughing so hard I thought it must have been you.'
'I was laughing because it was bloody hilarious. A sleep befuddled werewolf fighting with his
pillow. Funniest thing I'd seen in ages.' Sirius grinned at the memory. Bed curtains flying open, a
strangled grunting as the pillow fought bravely against Remus's sleep affected punches -until he'd
become so entangled in his sheets under the onslaught of feathery doom, that Remus had tumbled
from his bed glaring at Sirius as the pillow continued to whack him in the face repeatedly. 'But it
wasn't me.' Sirius said.

'No it was Prongs. He was always better at keeping a straight face than you.' Remus said. 'What did
you get your last ever detention for in seventh year?'

'Ha, Kissing Minnie on the cheek. I never had to go to it though. I think "Detention" just came out
of her mouth every time she saw me … it was kind of like "Hello." I mean we were leaving for the
train, did she really think I'd stay behind?' Sirius asked as he opened the door.

Remus was smiling, 'I think she was at a loss to be honest.'

'So what are you here for today?' Sirius asked as Remus surveyed the rubbish dump that was
Sirius's sitting room.

'Other than to give you a list of highly respected housekeepers.' He said, the smile falling from his
face and the stern voice of prefect-Remus making an appearance, 'I'm here because you are being a
total bell-end and are making girls cry – It's not on.' He waved his wand at the pile of washing that
was masquerading as house guest on the sofa, and sat down.

'Mooony,' Sirius whined, (if he was going to be spoken to like a child, he might as well act like one)
'I can't do anything about it.' He flopped into an armchair and regretted not checking the pile of
junk first when a telescope he didn't know he owned tried to violate him.

He pulled the pervy ocular device from beneath him and threw it to the floor. 'She was crying?' He
asked, it was a bit evil of him but he was quite pleased at the idea. At least that meant she had a
heart, he'd wondered from time to time.

'No, not really, you know what she's like.' Sirius did know unfortunately. 'She feels terrible, why
can't you just go back to ignoring it Pads? It's not like you didn't know this was coming.'

'I know. To be honest it's not even really about that. I mean – all drunken twattery aside – she
would actually be happier if she stayed.' He sighed as Remus gave him a hard look, 'Really.
Twenty years of waiting to get my mate back is total rubbish. But what if we're her only friends …
what if something happens and I get myself killed … or you eat me, or something.'

'Wolfsbane.' Remus muttered, 'You're not in danger of death by swallowing anymore.'

Sirius raised his eyebrow, 'I might not be in danger from the wolf but you're mightily pissed at me
lately, you could use it as an excuse.'

Remus's frown vanished, 'Hmm … good idea.'

Sirius grinned, 'Nah, I just think it would be for the best, you know …'

'Okay,' Remus said. 'So what's the latest grand plan?'

Sirius hesitated, he had had many brainwaves on how to keep her here, all of them so far had been
shot down by Remus with lectures involving words like 'kidnapping?' or 'blackmail is illegal'.
Remus would be useful on his new idea though. But he might think it too crazy. 'I'm going to write
to Lady Fehr.' Sirius said eventually.
Remus looked surprised, 'Pads … that's, that's a really good idea. Better than smashing her
Timeturner anyway.'

Sirius was pleased, 'Merlin knows where she keeps the bloody thing. I looked all night on
Wednesday. Couldn't find it anywhere. I managed to turn the telly on though,' he added, 'you
wouldn't believe what's on those cable channels in the middle of the night.'

'Yes she said you stayed. She was very happy about it – and what do you mean, 'I wouldn't believe
what's on?''

Sirius started to laugh at the memory, 'Just some hospital thing, I don't think it would be to your
taste … it was ... quite dirty … I'm surprised anyone gets healed.'

Remus chuckled and said, 'Oh, right – well I'm glad it distracted you from snooping in any case.'

'Yeah, I'd go round more often if she'd stop looking at me like she murdered my puppy. It's so
depressing. Makes me feel like the biggest sad bastard on the planet.' He said, embarrassed to
admit it.

'Do you want me to tell her that?' Remus asked, 'Because she would – she just wants it to be normal
again.'

Sirius shrugged, 'If you want. I suppose I should tell her.'

Remus eyes widened, 'Christ would you? Because that would be brilliant – I'm quite over being the
messenger boy, it's totally mental considering you still see her.'

'Twice Moony. I'll try harder – but really, it just makes me so mad. She's such a martyr about it all.'

'She is not.' Remus said sharply. 'You're a douche and she's feeling guilty. That's all there is to it.'

'Mean Moony, you know I'm no good at this shit.' Sirius grumbled.

'Do you know what?' Remus asked him, in a tone that suggested he probably didn't want to know
what.

'What?' he asked anyway.

'We have containment to practice and a Voldemort to kill. Maybe you should just grow a pair and
deal with it.'

Yes, he could have lived without hearing that, Sirius thought. 'Okay, that was way meaner than
douche.'

'Yes, but it's true. I'm sick of the whining.' Remus looked much less annoyed now.

'So If I, er … grow a pair and stop complaining, will you help me write to Frederica? I've tried but
it's hard to figure out what to say, "Hi Lady Fehr, could you please help me keep Hermione here
against her will?" really doesn't seem appropriate, but she loves you.' He winked at Remus, 'Being
so pinchable and all … maybe she wouldn't think it was a perverse hostage situation if it came
from you.'

Remus laughed, 'Yeah I'll help. We write to each other anyway.'

'You do?' Sirius said, forgetting his troubles for a moment, 'I never thought you'd be one for older
women, Moony, you sly dog.'
Remus blushed and Sirius couldn't keep his laughter in. 'No Padfoot, it's not like that, she wants to
help me get a job in education.'

'Oh yeah, I'm sure she'll teach you plenty.' He said, wiggling his eyebrows lewdly, it was just too
much fun.

Remus snorted, 'You are mental, I told her about the werewolf factor.' he said, 'She's looking into
loopholes in the restrictions for me.'

'You told her?' Sirius stopped laughing. Remus didn't tell anyone.

'Yeah Dumbledore said I should. Europe's laws aren't as prejudiced as Britain's, she was quite
angry at me for not telling her sooner – I don't know if you've ever been shouted at by a motherly
Swiss woman through your fireplace, but let me tell you, it's not pleasant.'

Sirius was laughing again, a wonderfully hilarious thought had struck him, 'Moony, if you marry
Frederica you really would be Hermione's dad!'

Remus shook his head, 'You, my friend, are a total idiot. I know you think I act like an old man but
the woman is – well, I don't know how old – at least seventy.'

'Love has no age.' Sirius chortled.

'Maybe I should marry her,' Remus said, with a spiteful edge to his voice, 'then I could keep evil
porn-watching scoundrels like you, away from my daughter.'

'You wouldn't.' Sirius said, aghast.

'I would. Now do you want to practice or not?' It's already nine.'

'Old man.' Sirius muttered.

2nd October

In the two weeks since "Operation Cloak Retrieval" – disguised as "Excuse to Get Drunk" –
disguised as "Birthday Party", Hermione had seen Sirius even less than she expected. Twelve
nights had passed and he had slept over only four times, He claimed tiredness as a reason to leave
(which was a joke considering that's why he'd started sleeping there in the first place) or he
wouldn't come round at all. In fact Hermione had seen Remus far more often than his grumpy
friend.

Hermione had pestered him for his advice on what to do about the situation but he had refused,
claiming a conflict of interest.

Hermione supposed this meant he was on Sirius side in their whole weird argument that had been
resolved, but wasn't at all - Obviously. She wasn't aware there were sides, but apparently there
were, and she was alone on hers.

The strangest thing was when Sirius did visit he was no different than normal. The friendly banter
continued, she bought blue biscuits, he brought news of his family, the Ministry and the Order.

It was a bit like the very first few times he had come to visit, except there were more awkward
silences now. Mostly caused by Hermione's guilt. The evil guilt. It was awful to feel bad for
hurting someone, especially when they both wanted the same thing, she thought she might want the
same thing anyway.

But considering he had gone from being a bit flirty, to demanding she stay in the past with him in
the space of a conversation, she wasn't sure if he even knew what he wanted.

Other than when he had shouted at her, they had never even discussed the idea of feelings. Her
understanding had been attraction – she cared for him very much, but he was her friend, her best
friend in this time, and possibly her only best friend since she had decided to change the god-
forsaken future.

There had been many moments over the last two weeks that she had wondered if she'd done the
right thing coming here, her selfless mission to save her friends' happiness. Well they might be
happy, but she was sodding miserable.

She tried to use the same tactic she had in the beginning when she was second guessing herself,
imagining the sound of Harry and Ron laughing, laughing so hard they would roll on the rug in the
Gryffindor common room, holding their sides and being trapped between pain and silliness.

It would work, for a while, but never long enough for her to get to sleep, because the scene would
change and she would see Sirius standing in her sitting room half stuck in his robes, shaking his
head to get the hair away from his face, grinning at her, or lying on the sofa, hands behind his head
with blue crumbs on his chest as he laughed. Or he and Remus, sitting on the floor together at the
Potter's on the night she had ruined everything, giggling and prodding each other, with tears in their
eyes as they listened to James recounting the stories of their youth.

But the worst, the absolute worst, was that Sirius was right. If she stayed here it would guarantee
that she would still know Harry, and Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's she may even be able to
find some way to meet her parents. And that was the real problem. Stay: guarantee friends and
general happiness. Leave: who knew?

Why did she have to leave? She asked herself over and over. Because she didn't exist, because she
couldn't work at the Ministry here, and that was hugely important to her. The elves, the
werewolves, even if she had to start at the bottom again when she returned, she would get there
eventually.

And beside all of that, she couldn't stay in the past just for a man. A man who thought she was
special because she'd come back in time to save his friends, and they had gone on an exciting
mission together to defeat an evil wizard. But that wouldn't last forever. He would get bored, and
she would be alone again because all his friends loved him so much, they would turn their backs
on her to keep him happy.

At least she would have work to throw her miserable self into on her return to 2001. But if she
stayed and things fell apart with Sirius she would be a useless, unemployable, for lack of a better
word, housewife. Except she would have no house or anyone to be a wife to. Totally redundant.

So that Friday night she sat curled in her armchair pretending to read, though why she was
bothering she didn't know, because of course there was no one there to see her pretend. She looked
at the clock constantly, it was just after ten, the time Sirius would normally show up if he was
going too.

At eleven thirty she closed her book, changed into her pyjamas and got into bed.

An insistent knocking interrupted Hermione's sleep, she thought she was imagining at first, but it
soon became a pounding. Sirius had come after all. She grabbed her wand and went out from the
bedroom into the dark sitting room. The curtains over the door were closed, she could see two tall
figures silhouetted by the orangey city lights outside. Why would Sirius bring someone with him?
It must be Remus … but … wand held firmly in her hand she made her way to the balcony
entrance.

'Who's there?' she asked trying to infuse as much strength into her voice as possible, mainly to
mask the frantic fluttering of her pulse.

'It's Moony and Prongs Hermione.' Remus's serious voice said.

James was here? Remus and James in the middle of the night? What had happened? Was this why
Sirius hadn't turned up tonight, because something awful had happened to him? Because it must be
something terrible for James to be here. He never left Lily and Harry alone if he could help it. Was
Sirius dead? Surely Dumbledore would tell her if that was the case.

Preparing herself for the worst Hermione asked, 'What book did we talk about yesterday?'

'Wuthering Heights.' said Remus quickly, before asking, 'What did I buy from Dung?'

The minute she had said, 'Wyvern Fang.' She wrenched the drapes back and unlocked the door. As
she pulled it open she asked, 'What? What's wrong?'

James looked pale, frightened and much younger than the last time she had seen him. When he
spoke, the resemblance to his son was uncanny, 'Voldemort's got Sirius.'

Her heart stuttered, Those words – those exact words had come out of Harry's mouth that horrible
evening, the last night of the older Sirius's life. Hermione froze as the meaning kicked in, she could
barely draw breath.

'He got me on the mirror,' James continued, 'Dumbledore isn't helping, he's talking about
reconnaissance and planning … Hermione?'

Hermione had sunk into the free armchair, 'How do we get him back?' she asked. 'Where is he?
Who's there? What did he tell you? Why do they want him?' she could feel panic, hot disabling
panic coursing through her, she needed to keep asking questions to keep her focus, her breathing,
previously recovered was becoming erratic – then suddenly Remus was kneeling in front of her, his
hands on her knees.

'Hermione,' he said, his calm voice helped. Remus she thought, Remus and James were here. They
would help. They wouldn't let him killed. 'They want a brooch – Sirius said you'd know what that
meant. He also said, and I quote "You are not to come and try to rescue him because then we
would be fucked." He's at Forte de Sang, he went there with Rabastan Lestrange this evening.'

'I still don't get why he would be doing anything with Lestrange,' James interrupted. 'What have
you got him into?' He looked accusingly at Hermione. 'All this family shit. Just for information?'

'Prongs, stop.' Remus said sharply. 'It doesn't matter why. They have him, that's what we have to
focus on.'

'How do we know this isn't a trap?' James shot back angrily, his temper rising sharply, 'How do you
know she's not one of them?'

'James! Calm down for god's sake!' Remus said, as drew his wand.
'Don't Remus. We can't fight, it's what they want.' Hermione drew a deep breath, she needed to
think, and shouting boys were not helping. 'James come and sit down, tell me what he said.'

James gave her a murderous look and sat on the end of the sofa furthest from her. 'The first time I
talked to him he said he was in a bedroom, that he went for a drink with Lestrange and the last
thing he remembers is the git saying 'Sorry mate, I have no choice.' He reckons he poisoned him.
He woke up and – thank merlin – Lestrange only took his wand because he still had the mirror on
him. He said to go to Dumbledore – and then you, once we had a plan. So we did, or Moony did
anyway.' James took a breath and glanced at Remus, who nodded, 'He told Dumbledore what was
going on and then came back to mine. While Moony was gone Pads came back on the mirror
saying that Bellatrix wanted some brooch from his mother's place. And that if he didn't get it for
them they would kill him.'

The panic inside Hermione kicked up another level.

James was still talking, 'He said that's bollocks because he's the heir and Bellatrix would never kill
the last hope for the name of Black. He said you'd know about this brooch? Seems a bloody
desperate length to go to just for Bellatrix to get a bit of jewellery.'

'She doesn't want it for her.' Hermione said quietly. 'She wants it for him. Voldemort. We heard
them at the Gala, they were looking for it then. It's some old thing related to Gryffindor, his
granddaughter and Sirius grandfather, or something, I can't remember now. But it's important to
Voldemort.'

'Why?' Remus looked at Hermione.

'I don't know,' she said, because she couldn't mention the Horcruxes in front of James, 'Why does
Voldemort do anything? Because he's insane. What matters is that's why they have Sirius. Did he
say anything else?'

'I'm not finished.' James said. 'They want you to bring the brooch. Tomorrow.' he looked at his
watch. 'Today, sorry'

'James.' hissed Remus frustratedly.

'What?' James's temper had returned, Hermione could see the blood rushing to his face, 'He can
think they won't kill him all he likes – but they're sodding maniacs, and they will. I'm not going to
lose my best mate because he's trying to protect her!' he pointed at Hermione. 'She's in the Order, it
should be up to her if she goes. I don't give a fuck what he, or Dumbledore says. It's a fucking
brooch! What does it matter? If she gives a crap at all about him and the shit she's gotten him into,
she'll do what's right. I DON'T KNOW WHY HE'S EVEN INVOLED IN THIS MESS! …
INFORMATION? IT'S NOT DOING US ANY BLOODY GOOD!

'Stupefy.' Hermione said quietly, her wand pointing at James. He keeled over on the sofa, Remus
looked at her with wide eyes, 'Sorry,' she said, 'but he is so much like Harry, being in a panic like
that makes them do stupid things. I'll wake him up in a minute.' Hermione thought about the huge
number of events that could have been changed if she just had the guts to stun Harry and his hot
temper and sorted things out herself. 'Now, Remus. Tell me what is going on and how we are going
to fix it.'

'Er … Right,' his eyes were still on his unconscious friend, 'They said if you bring the brooch they
will let him go – but it has to be you. Sirius refused to give them a way to contact you so they have
sent the demand to Grimmauld place … though I'm not sure how they are meant to get it to you
either.' He looked puzzled for a moment. 'But we weren't meant to tell you. Padfoot will kill us,
well James, since he'd the one that said it. He's trying to convince them to get Walburga to bring it.
I'm sure you can understand. You guys are so close to the end now it would be bloody cruel for it
to all go wrong now.'

'Would be? It already is.' Hermione shook her head. The panic was still there, but while they talked
she seemed to be able to control it.

'Why does he want this brooch? Is it what I think, he wants to make another one?' Remus asked
her.

Hermione nodded, 'That's what we thought. Is Voldemort there? Did he say?'

'I don't think so. He said it's the three Lestrange's and a few other cronies but really, it's a Death
Eater base. Voldemort will be there at some point.'

'What would you do Remus?' she asked quietly, horrified at the thought of having to face Riddle
four weeks early.

He looked at her sadly. 'You can't put this on me. You have a pretty important role here. What if
something goes wrong?'

'Look, James is right. Sirius wouldn't even be there if it wasn't for me. I think I'm going to have to
go. It doesn't matter if Voldemort gets the brooch. In fact …' Hermione faltered as a huge
realisation stuck her, it was suddenly so blindingly obvious that she could barely string a sentence
together, why had she never questioned it before? 'He … Harry … Hallowe'en.' She murmured, 'I
think he's supposed to get the brooch!'

'Hermione? What do you mean?'

She focused, trying to get the relevant facts in order, to help her understand as much as Remus …
but it made sense. 'Harry told me,' she said slowly, 'Riddle wanted seven Horcruxes, and in my
time he had them, his snake being the seventh. But Harry said Dumbledore told him he saved the
process of making them for significant deaths. He only has a six part soul at the moment, he
wanted to create the last one with Harry's murder – the most important of all because it meant the
prophecy was void or fulfilled I guess, depending on your point of view. But I'd never thought …
what object? … Remus … if he got the brooch another way last time, then he would have had his
four Founders' possessions, plus the ring from his mother and the diary proving he was the Heir of
Slytherin. Except that Harry beat him and he didn't make it.'

'You think that was his plan that last time? He found the brooch another way … or something
different.'

'Yes, he must have had something last time. I know Dumbledore said he had been planning to use
Harry's death for the final part. So he would have needed an object. The brooch seems most likely,
he was fussy about what he would put his soul in.'

'Okay, so that means someone needs to give him the brooch. Because if he is forced to wait it
might delay him in Godric's Hollow.' Remus surmised.

'Right,' said Hermione, she was so unbelievably glad Sirius had talked her into telling Remus
everything. His brain seemed unaffected by stress, he was just what she needed. 'Does Dumbledore
know about the demand for me to bring it?'

'Not unless Walburga has contacted him.' Remus said, shaking his head.
'Okay, I'm going to Grimmauld place, I need to talk to them. Pollux will do anything to keep Sirius
safe.'

'Hermione you need to see Dumbledore first. He will know what to do.' Remus said but there was
something hesitant in his face.

'What's that look for?' she asked.

'Oh … bugger it.' he said, seeming to lose an internal battle, 'I think you should go to the Blacks.
Sirius says they trust you. Dumbledore was talking about sending a group to have a look at what
we're facing – but he asked me, after the others had left if I could cast Fiendfyre. It seems like he's
not that hopeful we'll get him back in time for Hallowe'en.'

'The Greater Good,' Hermione muttered. Trust Dumbledore. Not that she didn't understand. One
life for hundreds, even thousands. But not this life, she thought. 'Okay I'm going to get changed and
then we'll go.'

'We? Er …' Remus stuttered, 'the Blacks aren't that big on werewolf rights, or half-bloods, or poor
people. If you're going to take anyone it should be James.' He almost smiled.

'Do you think they'll let him go if we hand it over?' Hermione asked, ignoring his concerns.

'I guess, I don't know … maybe? He's a pureblood – and related to most of them, his family
supports them financially. It would seem like they were stunning themselves in the foot if they
killed him when he's cooperating.'

'But why me? Why not Walburga, or Pollux for that matter?' she asked imploringly, desperate for
Remus to make her understand. 'Surely they would trust the Blacks more than a foreigner.'

'I think they know he'll behave if you're in danger.' Remus said softly, 'and they're right. I know
things haven't been perfect lately but he's just doing what he has to. He still … well, he wouldn't
risk anything.'

'Remus … can you cast Fiendfyre?' Hermione asked sadly, 'You know, if something happened to
me … he'd need your help.'

'I know the theory, and there's time to learn,' Remus said quietly, 'I'm sure Dumbledore would
help.'

Hermione nodded grimly, 'Okay, that will have to be enough.'

She got up and found some clothes, tied her hair back more securely, and came back into the sitting
room.

'You can wake up sleeping beauty now,' she said, looking at James. 'I'll go alone. I'll come to
Godric's Hollow if I need help – tell James we'll use the passwords from when Sirius was in
Belfast. She took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. 'Could you wait there with him? I see where
Harry gets his temper. He always needed us to keep him focused. Tell him I've gone to the Blacks
to get the brooch and that I'll have his best friend back before he knows it.'

'Are you sure? Padfoot told me you're a handy fighter and well, in the notes you gave me … I'm
sure if you can live through that, you'll get through this, but – well, just be careful Okay?' all of a
sudden Remus pulled her into a fierce hug. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

Hermione returned it, not saying anything because he was squeezing all the breath out of her, but
enjoying the safe feeling it gave her.

'Just use 'Alohamora' to lock up.' She said when he released her, 'It will do.'

'Alright. Let us know what's going on as soon as you can.' Remus withdrew is wand to un-stun
James.

'I will.' Hermione opened the door and concentrated on the front step of Number Twelve as she
turned, leaving the balcony behind.
 Forte de Sang

3rd October

Hermione was surprised at how quickly Kreacher came to the door when she knocked. Didn't
house-elves need to sleep? Weren't allowed to probably, she thought bitterly. The solid door with
its serpent knocker opened with an ominous creaking that seemed to echo around the deserted
square behind her.

'Miss Fehr?' Kreacher said, his bullfrogs voice low in the quiet night, 'Why is you calling at this
hour? Master and Mistress are sleeping.'

'I don't think they are Kreacher. Could you please check for me?' Hermione said quietly.

A strange feeling had come over her as she looked at the old little elf; she felt almost calm, the
fluttering fighting panic pushed aside by a strange sense of déjà-vu as she waited for Kreacher's
help in saving Sirius. If they failed and the future played out as it had, would the elf still go to
Bellatrix, his actions ultimately responsible for Sirius's death? Or would his loyalty to the re-
instated heir prevail for long enough to tell Harry the truth, when he poked his head through the
fire at Grimmauld Place?

But then she realised Sirius wouldn't be alive to get sent to Azkaban, or escape to hide in his
mother's house, if she didn't get him back now. The queer feeling of calm vanished. He would hold
under torture she knew. He was strong, and loyal to their mission. He would die before they got
anything out of him willingly, but the fact was, a brain full of information about the discovered
Horcruxes was right at Voldemort's wand-tip. It didn't help that the brain was attached to someone
she'd much prefer stayed alive and sane… well, as sane as was possible for such a crazy bugger.

'As you wish Miss Fehr. You may wait inside.' Kreacher said. He shut the door behind her and
vanished with a CRACK.

Hermione waited in the entryway. Nerves jangling, her eyes fastened on the corner of the staircase
where they had first overheard the importance of the Gryffindor brooch. It had been so eclipsed by
what happened afterward that she had nearly forgotten about it, distracted by her hormones and the
subsequent vomity consequences. She had been a foolish little girl to think that it was all right to
enjoy her time here, to indulge in romance when the whole purpose was death.

She jumped when the loud CRACK announced Kreacher's re-appearance.

'You were right Miss Fehr, they is not sleeping.' He said with a bow, 'They is in the library, please
follow me.'

She walked with the little elf up the main staircase, past the darkened drawing room. The house
may have been cleaner than when she, Ron, and Harry had used it as a hiding place, but the dim
deserted rooms still held the same sense of sinister old magic. A shudder ran up her spine as they
turned to mount the flight of stairs to the library. She concentrated on what she was going to say to
them – if Walburga refused to hand over the brooch… well, then mother and possible-daughter-in-
law relations would suffer. She found a tiny bit of strength as she imagined Sirius's face when she
told him she had stunned his mother. He would be very jealous.

'Hermione!' Walburga said as she entered the room. She was pale and drawn, sitting behind
Pollux's desk wearing a white cap over her neatly coiffured hair to protect it from the perils of
sleep. Her high-necked green velvet dressing gown was tailored in the same style as the robes she
normally wore, but with mother-of-pearl buttons fastening it from her throat to the hem, unlike the
usual silk-covered ones.

'How did you – we have been trying to decide what to do. Who told you?' Walburga asked, her
hands fluttering as she made to stand. Her face was stricken, and the absence of the normal
haughty set of her brows and the proud smirk on her lips served Hermione some more courage. She
would need to take charge.

'James Potter,' she said, eyes flicking to Pollux who was steadily wearing a track in the carpet,
fingers linked behind his head as he strode up and down. 'He and Sirius have a way of contacting
each other. He told me what is going on. I know what to do,' Hermione said, speaking too quickly
and too forcefully fo the well-bred young lady she was supposed to be.

'You do?' asked Pollux, stopping his pacing to look at her incredulously.

The look was so much like the one she got from Sirius every time she surprised him with a random
or bizarre fact about the future, that she nearly smiled. 'Yes. You will give me that stupid brooch
and I will get Sirius back.'

Pollux looked taken aback. 'My dear, we can't let you go there. I will go. Bella is my grand-
daughter; she will not hurt me.' His words were sure, like there was to be no argument.

'They asked for me. I am not afraid Mr Black,' Hermione said sternly. He could be as high-minded
as he liked, but as James had said, they are sodding maniacs. She just wanted to get the brooch and
get out of there. The longer she waited, the more chance that Voldemort would delve into Sirius's
mind for Order information - and with what he would find there, Sirius wouldn't stand a chance.

'I understand, Hermione – you are to be admired for being so brave, but Sirius would want you to
be safe.' Pollux was trying to reason with her, but she wasn't being unreasonable. She was being
determined. There was a difference.

'I don't really care what he wants,' she said through gritted teeth. 'I would very much like for him to
be safe, but I don't get that choice – so why should he? I'm all for equality between the sexes.'
Maybe a little unreasonable, she thought.

'Hermione, I must insist! You don't know what they are like – most are family, true, but what they
are involved in… it means more to them than family now.' Pollux was quite obviously concerned
at her behaviour, and probably worried that she was going to do something rash.

'I know what they are like. I have fought their kind before.' She said grimly.

'You have?' the concern vanished as his eyebrows flew up in surprise.

'Yes,' Hermione said curtly. She was forgetting her character once again, but she wouldn't need it if
Sirius never came back, so she guessed it didn't matter anyway. He would help her smooth it over
later.

'This is all my fault,' Walburga said suddenly. She was sitting again, her head in her hands speaking
to the desk top. Her voice shook as she continued 'She asked me for it… I said no, that it should
stay in the direct line.' There was a human quality to her voice Hermione had never heard before –
she sounded like a mother. 'I'm so sorry. I planned to give it to Sirius's daughter, if he had one.
Now… I don't care… she can have it. It's so ridiculous of her to go to all this effort.'

'Mrs Black,' Hermione said softly, a little overcome that this generally terrifying woman had real
emotion buried within her, 'Bellatrix doesn't want it for herself. It's for the Dark Lord.' Was this
how Riddle got his hands on it last time? Walburga would not have thought there was any chance
for the direct line, so would she have given it to Bellatrix when she asked?

Pollux and Walburga both gasped. 'Why? What does he –? '

'I don't know.' Hermione cut them off, returning to her authoritative tone. 'But Sirius and I heard
them looking for it at the Gala. That's why they all came.'

'Very well, Hermione. I am going to owl my grand-daughter and tell her you and I will be arriving
in three hours. In the meantime, I need to attend to a few things,' Pollux said firmly, as he headed to
the door.

'Mr Black, they asked for me.' Hermione insisted to his retreating back.

He turned to her, 'Yes, and you will be there – and I will escort you, as is proper. A young woman
should not be visiting a house she has never been to before alone, even if they aren't holding her
intended hostage.' He gave her a tight smile before looking at his daughter, 'Walburga, get the
damn brooch.'

'Thank you Mr Black,' Hermione said. It was a good solution – if they charged in there with wands
blazing, it could provoke the death eaters, but to turn up as though they were merely confused
messengers, visiting family? It might just work. 'I need to tell James what is happening,' she
continued. 'He's very worried, I'll fill him in and then go and dress more appropriately.' She forced
a smile onto her face as Walburga looked at her. 'I'm surprised you even recognised me like this.'
She gestured to her frizzy bed hair, crumpled cardigan and bathroom-floor-jeans.

Walburga swallowed and then said in a voice with more of her usual strength, 'I may have high
standards Miss Fehr, but sometimes practicality must come first.'

Hermione smiled reassuringly and said, 'I'll be back soon.'

'Hermione?' Walburga stopped her as she moved to the door. The older woman managed a smile of
her own, saying 'Thank you, I'm very glad you are in my son's life.'

'I am too, Mrs Black,' Hermione said honestly. She really was. 'I'll see you soon.'

'Minnie McGoogles loves her tabby cat!' Hermione said urgently, after banging on the door of the
Potters' cottage in Godrics Hollow.

The reply was swift and sharp – he must have been waiting on the other side of the door. 'Not as
much as Dumbley loves lemon drops and ten-pin bowling.' The door opened, and James stood
there with a frown on his face to match the discontent in his voice. 'For the record, don't stun me
ever again.'

'Sure thing,' Hermione said, sparing him a brief glance before stepping into the hall. 'Where's
Remus? I don't have long.'

'Come on,' James said, leading her him into the sitting room.

Remus was sitting in an arm chair, hunched forward with his face cradled in his hands, staring at
the little square mirror on the table in front of him. Lily was on the sofa with Harry asleep in her
arms, her lips pursed with worry.
Hermione gave her a tight smile before saying, 'Ok, Pollux has sent a message to Bellatrix saying
he will be escorting me to Forte de Sang at,' she looked at her watch, '8am. We're taking the
brooch. It should all be fine.'

James let out a sigh of relief and sunk onto the arm of the sofa next to his wife. 'Thank Merlin,' he
said shakily.

'Thank Hermione.' Remus snapped, looking at James coldly.

'Er… right.' James chafed his hand over the back of his neck, 'Look Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to…' He and his son could not have been more alike, she thought, as he stumbled awkwardly
over his apology.

'Yes you did,' she said without heat. 'And you were right – as if I'd leave him there when it was in
my power to rescue him.' She dragged a smile up once more. 'You don't know me very well, it's not
your fault for thinking I'd be afraid. He's your best mate. I get it.'

James gave her his one-sided Harry grin. 'No hard feelings?'

'You're the one that got stunned. You tell me,' Hermione said, her smile staying of its own accord
as she looked at the familiar face.

'No hard feelings,' he said firmly.

'Ok,' she nodded, 'I'm off, I need to get ready, I'll see you lot soon.'

Remus stood and hugged her again. 'Good luck,' he said hoarsely.

She nodded once more. 'We'll go to Grimmauld first but I'll get him to get you on the mirror as
soon as we're clear.' She turned and left the sitting room.

'Hermione?' It was Lily, a sleeping Harry still in her arms.

Hermione stopped, her hand on the door handle, and looked a question at Lily.

'You have to get him back,' she said in a whisper. 'James… he… he won't cope. Please.'

There were tears of worry in her bright green eyes. Hermione put her hand on Lily's arm. 'None of
us would, Lily. Don't worry. You know he's a stubborn git. I'll probably get there to find he's
rescued himself.' She pulled out her smile one more time.

Lily gave a watery little chuckle as Hermione opened the door.

Sirius lay on the large bed, hands behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He
wasn't bound, the bed was soft, he knew where he was, he had talked to James. Really it was the
best possible prisoner situation he could ever have imagined.

The only thing was Hermione. Why did they want her to bring it? Because then he would be
cautious. That was the reason they had given him. He didn't believe it for a second. They all
thought he had reformed; their treatment of him clearly proved that. Members of the Order were not
kept in guest rooms with adjoining bathrooms. They were not spoken to politely. They were not fed
every six hours. They were tossed somewhere dark, wrists and ankles tied, spat on and tortured and
fed only to keep them alive.

This made him feel both secure and terribly uneasy at the same time. He had been here for twelve
hours, during which he was fed twice, and visited by the morbidly depressed looking Rabastan
three times and the deranged Bellatrix once.

This brooch. He hoped Bella would realise how pointless this was and let his mother bring it
round. He understood that Voldemort didn't think like a human, and the idea that someone could
just ask for something obviously escaped him. Surely if Bella had just gone to his mother and said
'May I borrow that please, Auntie?' Walburga would have said yes.

The door to his relaxing prison opened – it was Rabastan again.

He shut the door as Sirius said, 'Hey Rab, I'm bored. Can I go now?' He had already asked this of
him on his three previous visits.

'No – stop asking. Listen,' he sat on the bed beside Sirius and fixed him with his ever-present wary
look. 'I know you hate me now, and fair enough,' he said sadly, 'but I had to warn you. The Dark
Lord is coming.' Sirius's heart began a drumroll in his chest. 'There is more to this than I knew.
They want you, and… and your girl.'

Sirius sat up, rage blurring the edges of his vision as he glared at the man he had thought a friend.
'Tell me you're fucking kidding,' he growled.

Rabastan shook his head slowly, thoroughly downcast. 'They want her connections – a gateway to
Europe,' he said. 'I had to warn you. She's coming with the brooch, but Mr Black too. They'll be
here soon.'

The blurring anger obscured Sirius's vision as he drew back his fist and sent it thundering into
Rabastan's jaw.

There was a cracking noise and Rabastan's head jerked back. He staggered to his feet, a hand
clapped to his face. 'I didn't know!' he muttered thickly. 'Sirius, I'm sorry. I thought they just
wanted the brooch, they… they won't let Letty or the kids out of her room, I was scared, I didn't
think they'd …'

'Rab, you idiot, how many times did I tell you?' Sirius hissed clutching his right fist, it was pulsing
angrily. 'They are evil bastards. Keep Letty safe all you want, but if they get Hermione… well,
you'd better take the mark because you're going to need Voldemort's protection.'

'I won't,' Rabastan said quietly as he retreated to the door. 'I won't take it.'

Sirius flopped back on the bed. 'Fuck you,' he said to the ceiling

Rabastan knocked on the door and the two apes outside opened it, checked who it was, and let him
out.

Right. Sirius thought, as the door closed once more. He leaned half off the mattress and reached
beneath it for his mirror, pulling it out from where it was tucked into the underside of the bed-
frame. He wiped off the surface and settled properly onto the bed, addressing the mirror: 'James
Potter.'

James's face appeared at once. 'Mate,' he said 'what's happening … are you still ok?'

'Not at all.' Sirius said. His voice was calm, because if he let any emotion enter it, the guards would
wonder why he was shouting at himself. 'I've just been informed that Hermione is coming here.
You are going to tell me that's not true. Because if it is – I'm going to kill you.'
'Padfoot, I'm sorry,' James wheedled, 'Dumbledore – he wasn't doing anything, we had to tell her.'

'Oi!' said Remus's angry voice from somewhere out-of-frame, 'None of this we shit - you told her. I
just couldn't stop her.'

Sirius growled again. 'Bloody hell, Potter, I told you – she's not to be put in danger! Well guess
what? Voldemort is going to be here to meet her. So fuck you.' he hissed.

'Why is her life more important than yours, Padfoot?' James asked, almost pleadingly.

'Put Moony on.' Sirius said abruptly.

'Sirius, tell me!' James insisted. 'She was happy to go for you – would you rather just stay there? I
know you think you're safe, but they're sodding Death Eaters.'

'Put Moony on,' he said firmly, and pressed the square of glass to his chest – James was still
talking. He waited until he heard Remus.

'Pads? Sirius? Listen!' Sirius turned the mirror over to see Remus's stricken face. 'I'm sorry. She
just left, they'll be there in three hours, Pollux is coming too, they're bringing the brooch. It should
be Ok.'

'It's not Ok Moony. They want her – Rab just told me. They asked for her because they want access
to Europe. They can get what Bellatrix has been trying to do in France, a powerful influential
Ministry-based family… why didn't I see it before?' he muttered, almost to himself. 'This is only
half about the bloody brooch. They want her as a Death Eater.'

Remus's face drained of colour. 'I'll send James to them now. They can't go unprepared.'

'No, Remus, they can't come here at all. You know what's at stake.' He whispered, 'I would much
rather be in prison here than at Azkaban, and as much as I'd quite like to thump Prongs for being a
selfish git, I don't want him dead next month. So Hermione has to stay safe – tie her up if you have
to, I don't care – but you can't let her come here.'

There were loud footfalls in the hall outside. 'I have to go,' Sirius said hastily. 'Promise me,
Moony.'

'I promise,' he heard as he stuffed the mirror into the inside pocket of his jacket He put his hands
back behind his head trying to look relaxed. The door burst open. The two guard trolls entered,
followed by Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Morning, Gents!' Sirius said chirpily, not looking at them. 'So is my mother bringing Bella her
gift? I have to say, Lestrange – I knew you weren't as rich as us Blacks, but I never thought you'd
stoop so low as to make ransom demands just to get a Christmas present for your wife.'

'Shut it, Black!' Rodolphus sneered, wrapping a meaty fist around Sirius's arm and dragging him off
the bed.

Sirius struggled, 'Merlin, mate, watch it – this is leather you know.'

The goons flanked him, hauling him to his feet and taking an arm each.

Rodolphus pointed his wand at Sirius's wrists. 'Incarcerous.' The black cords he conjured were
very tight. Sirius tripped slightly at the sudden movement as the apes began to march him to the
door.
'You don't have to hold me.' Sirius said, winking at the one on his right once he had regained his
footing. 'I can walk.' The grip was increased. 'Rudolf, where are we going?' he asked, his tone
jaunty, as though it was some thrilling adventure. He didn't get an answer. 'I haven't been here
since I was a kid. Love what you've done with the place.'

'Gag him.' Rodolphus said irritably, without turning.

When a strip of material was shoved in Sirius's mouth, he clamped his teeth down on the fingers
that were doing the shoving. The owner of these fingers grunted in pain. Sirius grinned at him
before the end of the fabric was wrapped around his head and secured at the back. Then another
piece was added – across his eyes this time.

Now with no way to distract himself from the hideous churning inside him, Sirius walked more
slowly. If something stopped James, she was coming here… They were going to get her… She
would refuse to join and they would kill her. His mind was totally blank. He had no idea how to
get out of this. Wasn't he meant to be some brilliant Auror?

He was dragged sharply around a corner, and stumbled blindly as the quick movement unbalanced
him. 'They want you and your girl' – the words echoed in his head. Their deception seemed like a
happy memory now, he thought as he was pushed along down a flight of stairs. He was practically
being carried, his feet barely touching the floor.

'Your girl….' He could see her: stupid fluffy ponytail, two books open on her knee as she cross-
referenced something, rolling her eyes as he said something twatty, but laughing anyway. His
favourite mental image was from the Gala, the bright pink cheeks when he'd kissed her hello. So
embarrassed at such an innocent act. He grinned around the gag.

He hadn't given up. Not yet. But it was easy to think that he would win and somehow convince her
to stay, when he was being held hostage. When he was faced with the reality of the girl, though, he
reverted to the guy she had first met - all jokes and quips and nothing real because he was too
scared. He felt a little better knowing that he was more scared of that, than of whatever was about
to happen to him next. James would stop her and Pollux from coming, Sirius told himself. It would
be alright.

He was pushed roughly into a chair – his ankles strapped to its legs, his wrists unbound and re-tied
to the chair's arms.

'Mr Black, how kind of you to join us.' He knew that voice, high and cold. Ok, maybe he was a bit
more frightened of this situation than of being rejected by a girl. The fear inside him had tripled at
the sound of that cruel, unforgiving voice.

The gag disappeared.

'It wasn't by choice,' Sirius said, returning to his previous cheerful tone, hoping it would mask the
way his thudding heart was trying to make him shake. 'But I had found it almost pleasant – before
the manhandling began. It was like a little holiday, lazing about up there.'

The blindfold was removed and he could see Voldemort, not five feet from him, red eyes narrowed,
pale skin, tall and threatening. 'I have a proposition for you Mr Black,' he said, in an oddly polite
tone. His lipless mouth was curled in something that was possibly supposed to be a smile.

Sirius smiled, and willing himself to sound friendly he said, 'You can call me Sirius, Mr Riddle – I
don't mind.'
Riddle's eyes went wide. 'Insolence!' he muttered, 'but I knew you had spirit.'

'Sure do,' said Sirius. Baiting Riddle gave him strength, helped to clear his mind – and he needed to
think. The room was narrow and long; there was a billiard table to his left, and low-hanging lights
swung from the ceiling.

'Now, why are you here?' Riddle questioned, eyes narrowed as he took in Sirius's apparently
carefree stance.

'Well to be honest, I was hoping you could tell me,' Sirius said, arranging what he hoped was a
puzzled expression onto his face. 'You see, my cousin – the lovely Bella – said she wants this
brooch of my Mum's, Bella likes trinkets. So I said my Mum would bring it around for her, but
Bella said it had to be bought by my friend instead.'

Riddle glared at him, obviously irritated. 'More than a friend I think – you wouldn't want her to get
hurt, would you?'

'Of course not!' said Sirius, as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. 'Why would you hurt her?'

'She will be safe if you cooperate,' Riddle said, pale skin around his mouth lightening further as he
controlled his annoyance.

'Oh good,' Sirius said, with an exaggerated sigh of relief. 'As long as it's my choice. So she drops
off the thing and then I get to go?'

'Yes and no.' His voice had changed – it was almost amused now, a very frightening sound.

'I'd rather just yes if that's alright with you,' Sirius said, fighting to keep his tone light. He was quite
sure Riddle could see his heart pounding against his ribs. It was beginning to hurt – he wondered if
the rumours were true about Voldemort being able to kill with a look. A fear-induced heart attack
didn't seem that farfetched at the moment.

'I have a proposal for you,' Riddle said quietly, drawing his wand.

The scarlet eyes fixed on him as Sirius met his gaze. 'That's very flattering. But I'm into girls.'
Panic makes you say strange things, Sirius thought as the words left his mouth.

The wand sliced through the air and there was a slash across his chest. His shirt ripped, and blood
began to well.

'Ouch,' he said, looking down at the red spreading from the thin cut – it was like a whip's lash had
caught him. 'Sorry,' Sirius shrugged, 'I misunderstood.'

'Listen to me Black,' Riddle said taking a step nearer, 'you know what we are – half your family
have made their way to my cause. Don't you think it's time you stopped fighting for the losing
side? We can offer you much. And the girl - Hermione Fehr,' he said with a purr, and Sirius nearly
vomited at the sound, 'She would be very useful I think. Would you want her to join us?'

'Not really.' Sirius said. If he breathed slowly, the cut didn't hurt too badly. He had to keep talking;
Riddle liked a challenge. 'You lot work pretty odd hours, bad for a relationship that. And while I
think that wizards should be in charge, I don't really think you need to be so… you know… killy
about it. We're magic. They couldn't fight us with their best weapons.' He could see Riddle's
patience waning; perhaps it was time to shut up after all.

'Do you think she will want to join us, when we tell her it's the only thing that will stop us from
killing you?' Riddle's voice was becoming softer, more dangerous, the more Sirius goaded him –
but they wouldn't kill him, not if they wanted Hermione as much as they seemed to.

'Maybe… although I'm quite annoying – she might be pleased.'

Another slash from the wand, another cut to his chest.

'Good grief.' Sirius looked down at his chest again. 'That stings, you know.'

Then there was nothing but pain. He jerked against his bindings – there was fire under his skin,
crawling. Stabbing knives piercing every inch of him, he couldn't think, there was nothing, just
cutting, slashing, scorching pain... then it stopped. He was breathing heavily. He'd had the
cruciatus curse used on him before by a Death Eater, but it had been nothing, nothing compared to
Voldemort's.

Riddle was leering down at him, his face much closer than before, 'Did that sting?'

'Quite a bit,' Sirius rasped out, forcing his head up to meet those frightening eyes.

'Do you think Miss Fehr will join us, and convince her uncle to support the cause if she sees you
like this?'

Then the pain returned. There was no room in his mind for anything but the constant consuming
ripping burning torture. It was gone as quickly as the first time, leaving his skin prickling in the
aftermath, legs and arms twitching.

'She won't be able to convince her uncle,' he said in a cracked whisper.

'Are you sure?' Riddle's long fingers were caressing his wand. His cold voice had changed – he was
enjoying this, Sirius realised.

Then he was gone into that world of boiling suffering again, his bones splintering, his innards
constricting the sharp hot stabbing covering every inch of flesh; he was jerking uncontrollably, the
ropes at his wrists and ankles the only thing stopping his collapse.

'Yes,' he gasped when the curse was lifted.

'I tire of you.'

Riddle flicked his wand once more and it returned. Sirius couldn't hold back the scream any longer
– he was weak, he wanted it to end, his skin was being torn apart, horrible corrosive liquid was
moving through is veins, melting him, the knives slashing and piercing, his bones cracking and
forcing themselves out through his flesh. He was limp and panting when the curse was finally
gone. Sirius thought he heard reteating footsteps followed by the creak of door hinges but he
couldn't be sure. There was dark fog gathering quickly at the edge of his mind; it was a relief to let
it take him away.
 Grim Results

3nd October

Sirius came to, slumped in his ropes. How much time had passed? He struggled, but he had been
bound around his waist now too. He could barely move his aching muscles anyway, he felt so
weak. His right hand throbbed from the punch he had delivered Rabastan earlier, and the two whip-
like slashes to his chest felt hot and almost itchy, but not particularly painful.

There was a suspicious pulse surrounding his left eye that suggested something much less like a
wand, and much more like a fist, had come into contact with it at some speed recently. He was glad
he didn't remember that. It must have been the trolls, as he couldn't imagine Voldemort
succumbing to such muggle-worthy tactics. He'd probably break his scary, spindly, spider fingers
before doing much damage anyway.

Tied the way he was he could only see one corner of the room, there was no way to tell if he was
being watched. He cleared his throat and asked, 'A little help mate?' knowing that this would
provoke any Death Eater present into mocking him.

There was no reply; he was alone in the room. In fact, the only sound he could hear was a quiet
ticking somewhere on his left.

Gathering his failing strength, he pushed with his feet trying to move the chair around to see the
clock, but only moved a tiny bit. He tried again and again, until finally with his head turned as far
as it would go, he could see the oversized carriage clock sitting on a shelf to the right of the wall-
mounted billiard cues. It was just after seven.

If James hadn't been able to convince them to stay away, his grandfather – and Hermione – would
be arriving in less than an hour. Then a horrible thought stuck him, something his tweaking brain
had overlooked on the walk to meet the inhospitable Mr Riddle. James wouldn't be able to get past
the security enchantments at Grimmauld Place. He was not on the list of trusted people.

Sirius started to panic – less than an hour. He had to get away before they arrived. He had no
wand. He was tied so tightly to the chair … their prisoner … he would still rather be prisoner here,
than Azkaban he thought, but that didn't help the Hermione situation … Azkaban, he'd escaped
from there – he was quite proud of that, even if he hadn't done it yet.

He escaped from there because no one knew he was an animagus. 'Idiot.' he muttered aloud.

He took a few calming breaths, concentrating … focusing on the feeling … he drew it in … then
pushing from inside his chest he let the feeling expand. The billiard room turned grey, the smell of
it changed. He was in quite a lot of pain too, though nothing like earlier. It was very uncomfortable
to be strapped to a chair like a human, when you have the body of a dog. He moved carefully – it
was dangerous with his forelegs splayed wide and tied to the arm rests, as one of his ribs could
puncture a lung if he jerked in the wrong direction.

The benefit, however, was that his hind legs had no feet – just nice flexible paws which he was
able to pull free immediately. Easing his head to one side he began to gnaw at the rope on his right
foreleg. For a moment he wondered if this would work. The ropes looked like your run-of-the-mill
hemp cordage, but they had no visible end – one seamless length wrapped around his limb several
times. But he needn't of worried; it frayed and broke under Padfoot's sharp teeth without too much
difficulty, and the second one was simple now that he wasn't held in that stretched position.
With all four legs free, he was still bound around the middle to the back of the chair. He shifted
about until he was on his haunches and scrabbled at the ropes with his back leg like a mutt with
terrible fleas. He caught his belly with his sharp nails several times, but continued – it was harder
than with his teeth but eventually they got the job done.

Padfoot jumped from the chair and looked around, favouring his right front paw. There was door
Riddle had left through, no doubt guarded by more of the face-punching muscle men. He had
played in this house a child. He was sure there was another way out of this room… there in the
corner, the servant's entrance.

He changed back in to human form and reached for the door handle. Unlocked. He peered up and
down the servant's passage. Not a Death Eater in sight. 'Sloppy,' he muttered, closing the door
behind him before starting off along the narrow hallway and down the claustrophobic staircase at
the end of the corridor. It opened into a wide kitchen, a little house-elf had its back to him, working
busily at the stove – Death Eater ridden house or not, the smell of breakfast still made his stomach
growl.

Morphing into Padfoot once more he crept across the room to the door that led to the vegetable
garden. Though sneaking to the best of his quiet ability, the elf must have heard him because there
was a clang of a dropped saucepan and a high-pitched squeak of fright.

'What is that doing in here?' the elf said, its already large eyes doubling in size as the hulking
shaggy canine turned its head toward it. Sirius couldn't tell if the house-elf was male or female, its
tea towel toga gave no indication. The little creature seemed to be rooted to the spot in shock at the
sight of an animal big enough to swallow it in two bites.

Sirius took his advantage. Moving quickly to the door he appraised the handle; it was an old-
fashioned brass lever, convenient for servants to open with their elbows when their hands were full
of dinner vegetables – also helpful when one was lacking opposable thumbs – the latch clicked
when he pushed down on the handle with his paw and the door swung open.

He glanced back at the still frozen elf. Would it want bother the Master of the House with a tiny
little thing like an unusual bear-sized dog in the kitchen? He wasn't sure. Deciding it was better to
get away before the frightened house-elf could make up its mind, Sirius shot through the open
door and took off at full tilt across the garden, wincing but ignoring his injured paw. He jumped
the low wall that separated it from the rest of the grounds and pounded as fast as he could toward
the boundary. Without his wand he couldn't apparate home in time to stop them leaving, but he
could at least be waiting near the gate when Hermione and Pollux arrived.

The hedge that acted as the boundary line was thick and dense, but thankfully the protective spells
were designed to keep people out – not in. Down the lane was the slight thinning of the branches
that the Order used to gain entrance; the enchantments were not as strong there, and he forced his
way through. There was a huge charred stump a bit further along. That must be where Diggle saved
Remus and Fabian, he thought.

He looked back up the lane toward the official entrance to Forte de Sang. There were two Death
Eaters not far away, guarding the gate – one tall, broad-shouldered and paunchy, the other shorter
and stocky.

Hermione would recognise him in his animagus form and know he was free – she was quick – if
she saw him surely she would take Pollux away immediately. Then he would be able to run home,
or to Remus'. His place was isolated, but much closer than London.

He would have to risk it. Sirius gave himself a vigorous shake to rid the broken twigs and leaves
from his coat, and trotted toward the Death Eaters. He wagged his tail and let his tongue loll out.
The bigger one nudged his friend and pointed at the massive black dog.

He knew he was a frightening-looking beast unless he was careful, and Death Eaters were not
known for being animal lovers, so he lay down twenty feet from them, put his head on his paws
and yipped. The big one looked over his shoulder towards the house and then patted his leg at
Sirius.

Padfoot rose to his feet and padded toward him, tail wagging – it was surprisingly hard to make the
bloody thing wag when you weren't happy, and he had to keep reminding himself to keep it up. The
man – was his name Gibbon? – held out his fist when the dog reached him. Padfoot licked it and
sat in front of him, tongue lolling out once more. Gibbon had eaten sausages for breakfast. The
man might hate muggleborns but he certainly gave a good ear scratch, Sirius thought as he sat
before him, his tail wag wagging by itself now, thank goodness.

The other man was watching anxiously, his eyes flicking between the dog and the house. 'You
should shoo him away, if they see …' Sirius couldn't have that! He turned his head and butted at
the other man's leg – probably more cat behaviour than dog, but the Death Eater seemed to
appreciate it all the same, giving a reluctant laugh. 'Insecure for a big one isn't he?' the shorter man
said.

His doggie charms were not needed for long, fortunately. After a while of enjoying sausage-fingers
ear scratching he heard the pop of apparition, and his new Death Eater friends scrambled to look
alert.

There they were, walking calmly toward the gate – Hermione and his grandfather. She was all
done up in her Lady Fehr garb. He almost barked with laughter imagining her annoyance at having
to fix her hair and wear heels for a rescue mission. By her expression, she was trying to appear
haughty, but as soon as her eyes fell on the big black dog being petted by the guards she had to
restrain a smile.

She stopped and whispered something to Pollux who looked toward them and back to Hermione,
then nodded seriously. Hermione waited where she stood as Pollux came forward.

'Good Morning Gentlemen.' he said in his friendly, winning voice.

'Good Morning Mr. Black,' they said almost in unison.

'Terribly sorry, but the young lady is mortally afraid of dogs,' Pollux said apologetically. 'Would
you mind if I restrain him as she passes? We are here on an important quest and I would hate for
her to faint before she can deliver my grand-daughter her gift.'

'Get out of it,' Gibbon said to the black dog, flapping his arms.

Sirius turned and took a few steps toward Hermione, who – Sirius had to admire her ability to
sound like a frightened, dithering, bint when she was anything but – put her hand to her heart and
said in a fussy, panicked voice, 'Oh, Mr. Black, restrain him! He's coming right for me!'

Gibbon looked impatiently up the drive toward the house and said 'Very well, grab him then – you
two need to get inside.'

Hermione came forward, a black velvet box in her hands, her eyes wide and fixed on Sirius. He
could see amusement in her gaze as she tried to look frightened. She held the box out to Gibbon.
'This is what we came here to deliver. I give it to you now in a show of good faith.'
Gibbon looked highly confused but took the box from her. Immediately she turned on the spot, and
Sirius had a momentary glimpse of her cloak flicking though the air before he was pulled into
suffocating darkness as well

He had never apparated in his animagus form before, and the feeling was quite odd.

Before he could even gauge his surroundings a body slammed into him and Hermione's voice was
laughing in his ear, 'Mangy mutt.' He transformed back into his human-self, and laughed with her
sprawled across him, as they lay on the front path of Number Twelve, Grimmauld place.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared.

Sirius looked up at the sky to see Pollux standing over them, looking incredibly tall from Sirius
horizontal position on the concrete. 'Er, Grandfather … so, there might be some things about
myself I haven't shared with you …' He was giggling hysterically, light-headed at the feeling of
freedom, and adrenalin still rushing through him. Not to mention that Pollux had the funniest look
on his face Sirius thought he had ever seen.

'Might be?' Pollux sounded almost faint. 'Boy, you … when did you learn that? My word, and Miss
Fehr … you know? … Obviously you do … silly thing to say … Sirius, an animagus … very
useful'

Sirius pushed himself up from the paved path and pulled Hermione to her feet as well, 'Sorry
Grandfather, I would have told you … but well, you see … I'm quite, er … impulsive and I keep
expecting to do something wrong and annoy Mother … I couldn't help thinking a disguise might
come in handy.'

Pollux burst into laughter, a hand pounding Sirius on the back, 'A wise move!' Then he stopped as
he took in Sirius' wincing, bruised face and blood smeared shirt, 'You are hurt. What did they do to
you my boy? Their own family, I never would have believed it.' He turned toward the steps, 'Come
in side and we'll get you patched up.'

He made to open the door but Sirius said, 'I need to see James, Grandfather. Hermione can fix me. I
need to thank him.'

'Surely he will come here?' Pollux looked confused. 'I can grant him access. He helped save you
today. You are injured, you need to rest.'

'It's not just him Grandfather, but his wife, and my friend Remus too. I know you would not want
them here, no matter their contribution to my safety.' Sirius said, never missing a chance to remind
his grandfather that purebloods weren't the only brave people.

'Very well,' he sighed 'But at least come for dinner tonight, your mother will want to see you are
alive. She was very worried.'

'Yes Grandfather.' Sirius said as a wave of vertigo washed over him. The giddy feeling of success
was slipping away; his hand was aching again, and his legs felt like they were made of
marshmallow.

'Thank you Mr. Black,' Hermione said earnestly. 'Don't worry, I'll look after him.'

Pollux smiled at her. 'Of course you will, my dear.'

He tapped the door with his wand, sent Sirius one more concerned look, and went inside.
Sirius was leaning heavily on Hermione by this point. The adrenalin that had kept him going was
gone, leaving little black splotches in his vision. He blinked trying to clear them.

'Come on,' Hermione said, 'you're sure you're Ok to apparate?'

'Yup!' he said. There was a loud sizzling in his ears, reminding him unexpectedly of sausage-
fingers Gibbon.

'Ok, Cop hold.' Her voice sounded far away.

He tightened his grip around her waist as best he could, and she pulled him with her into the
blackness once more.

When he opened his eyes he was in the bedroom of Hermione's hotel, sprawled across the bed on
top of the covers. He stretched experimentally. There was a dull pain in his limbs still but nothing
worse than after a night spent out with Moony on the full moon.

His chest was healed, he realised. When he looked down he saw he was fully dressed in the clothes
he was captured in; Hermione had even fixed the rip in his shirt and vanished the blood. That was
good. He liked this shirt.

'Prongs.' he muttered – how long had it been? The little clock on the bedside table read 8.41. He
breathed a sigh of relief; he'd only been out for half an hour at the most. He dug the mirror out of
his jacket pocket, and briefly wondered why Hermione wasn't here by his sick bed.

'Hermione?' He called.

She appeared in the door way, 'Hello,' she said 'how do you feel?'

'Fine' he said sitting up. His head spun severely, maybe not fine then.

'Good.' she smiled, 'Now that you are awake to hear me, I'm going to tell you again. Do not tell me
you are fine to apparate when you are about to faint. You are very lucky half of you wasn't left
behind.' She fixed him with a stern look. 'For a fit bloke you weigh far more than is acceptable. I
have a strong suspicion you are made of lead.'

He chuckled. Her tone was serious but he was just too happy to be away from that crazy lot and to
know that she was safe again … for now. 'I promise.' He said nearly keeping the laughter out of his
voice. 'Did you tell Prongs and Moony yet?'

'No, I was waiting for you to wake up. I'll go now if you want. You might feel better, but you
probably shouldn't apparate just yet.'

Definitely not, he thought. Just the idea made him nauseous. 'I can't anyway – you'd have to side-
along me,' he said. 'I've got no wand, had to leave it behind – I couldn't really go looking for it.'

'Oh shit!' Hermione said looking stricken, 'What will you do, will they give it back?'

'Er …' he looked at her, eyebrow raised, 'well you see … there's this place – called Ollivanders,
they make wands. So I might just go and buy a new one.'

'Oh, right.' Hermione laughed.

Sirius smiled at her – she must be more stressed than she seemed, to forget a little thing like that.
He would miss his old wand though. It was perfect. 'And I'll just get James on the mirror. So you
don't need to go anywhere.'

'Oh, do you have it?' she asked, looking relieved.

'Yes,' he showed her.

'Good,' she said. 'I'm dying for a cuppa, do you want one?'

'Will you bring it to me?' He asked, reclining on the pillows. 'I'm hurt, remember – probably
should be resting.' He grinned as she rolled her eyes and left the room. It wasn't completely wrong
of him to be happy he'd been captured, was it? It was like before. Just like before.

'James Potter,' he said looking into the mirror.

James was there in an instant – 'PADFOOT!' He shouted 'Remus, Lily! He's there! he's ALIVE!

'Merlin, keep it down Prongs, I've a sore head.' He stopped abruptly when he saw there were tears
on James' face. 'Er … Prongs, you right mate? It's alright – I got away, I'm fine – I'm at
Hermione's. Being bought tea in bed, should get captured more often.'

'Pads …' His voice broke. 'We thought you were dead. You're really alright?'

'Um, yes. I'm absolutely fine, Hermione healed me up good as new. You thought I was dead?
Why?'

'The mirror,' James said, starting to grin as he realised it was he really was Ok. Sirius could hear
Remus calling him a 'daft mutt' from out of frame. 'You never closed the connection,' James said.
'We heard … we heard Voldemort.'

'You did?' Sirius cringed a little at the thought of them all hearing him scream. He hoped he hadn't
sounded too wimpy.

Then suddenly James was laughing. 'Got to be honest mate, I didn't really blame him for killing
you. You're a right mouthy wanker.' He chuckled. 'You can call me Sirius Mr. Riddle, I don't
mind? Were you trying to get killed?'

Sirius grinned at him, 'Like you wouldn't do the same.'

'True,' James said, 'but then we heard the Death Eaters beating you up, and I think you'd passed
out, because then it was quiet for ages, until we heard you mumbling, and then it cut out – totally
blank! I'd never seen it do that before.'

'I was Padfoot – they'd left me alone, so when I woke up I transformed and chewed through the
ropes and ran away. Met Hermione out the front and we disapparated. Left my wand though –
that's a bit rubbish.'

'Brilliant!' James said, 'Not about your wand, that's rotten, but Padfoot to the rescue? Wicked.'

Hermione came back into the room then tea tray in hand, 'Sorry Prongs, but my nurse is back. I
should leave you guys to get some rest – it must have been a shit night.'

'It certainly was.' James agreed.

'Oh wait,' he said hastily, realising they would need to tell Remus more details, and that he was too
polite to just turn up uninvited, 'Hermione says she wants to talk to Moony about some book and
could he please come over later? Honestly Prongs, they're so related. It's like a being in a sodding
library round here at the moment.'

James laughed. 'No problem mate, he heard that. Come round home when you get a chance.'

'I will.' James' face vanished from the mirror.

'Your nurse?' Hermione asked surprised, climbing onto the bed to face him and folding her legs
beneath her. She set the tea tray between them. 'Wizards don't have nurses, they have healers.'

'Man's allowed to dream isn't he?' he said with a wink.

'What is that supposed to mean?' she asked, there was no hint of annoyance, she was just her again.

'Oh you know … getting waited on hand and foot … tiny uniforms … sponge baths.'

Hermione's eyes widened then narrowed suspiciously, as she said shrewdly, 'I'm disturbed that
even though you don't know how to turn a television on, you've obviously been watching some
questionable programming.'

'I do know how to turn the telly on,' He insisted. 'Moony showed me. I just can't change the
channel. And I was bored and awake the other night … it was an interesting insight into muggle
hospitals, the nurses didn't seem do anything except shag … the doctors, the patients, each other. I
think I would injure myself constantly just to get a bed.' He didn't mention that he was awake in the
night because he was looking for her way home – in the hope of smashing it into a thousand sandy
pieces – plus the fact that he couldn't sleep next to her anymore, it was too weird.

Hermione's mouth was hanging open. He kept his face straight as could, seeing if she would
believe he was really that clueless. Then a pillow hit him in the recently fixed face. 'I'm regretting
the effort I went to get you those now.' she said, pointing at four blue macaroons on the tea tray.

'Don't, I'm very grateful, and …' he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much it meant to him to
have someone always put his safety first, even after the last two weeks. She somehow managed to
do it without making him feel coddled – a rare skill. 'I know I got out of there myself but it's …
well, it was good of you.'

'Of course I came to get you. Do you really think I could cope on Hallowe'en alone?' Oh right he
thought. 'And besides, you might annoy me no end with tea-in-bed demands, and late-night porn
sessions in my sitting room, but I'm used to it now. I'd miss you.' She smiled at him.

He smiled back, not really sure what to say other than, "Then why are you leaving? Twenty nine
days. Why can't you just stay? You have a time-turner, just stay for a bit longer." Deciding against
unmanly begging, which was what had screwed everything up in the first place, he kept his mouth
shut.

She seemed to be thinking something similar, though, because as she poured them tea and passed
him a cup she asked, 'Do you still think we'll be friends when I get back? I keep wondering about it
… if you'll … well, want to, seeing as how I would have been a kid for ages, if I'm even friends
with Harry that is. Otherwise you won't know me at all.'

'But I will,' Sirius said, frowning. 'It's twenty years from now, I might be old, but I think I'll
remember this little adventure of ours. Where will you arrive? I should come meet you there or
something.' Was it to creepy of him to think that way? What kind of forty year-old man is friends
with a girl who's twenty one? He took a gulp of tea to hide his uncertainty, before adding 'But only
if you promise not to laugh at my old, wrinkly face.'
She did laugh. 'It wasn't that wrinkly when I saw you last, quite handsome in fact. And just think,
without all that Azkaban time you'll be much younger looking.'

'Oh yes,' he drawled, 'I've heard dementors are dreadful for one's complexion.' He really wanted to
move away from this disheartening topic.

Once again they seemed to be thinking alone the same lines. 'Let's not talk about this now,' she
said. 'We've still got four weeks to get through first. It's making me depressed, what I'd be going
back to … I just don't know. I'm trying to live in the moment.'

Then stay! 'Alright,' he said aloud, casting around for a nice neutral topic that didn't involve
shameful pleading. 'So why did you give them the brooch?' Perfect. 'So they wouldn't come after
me again?' He still wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to tell her the Death Eaters were after her
fraudulent family connections. It would just add unnecessary pressure. And another reason to leave
- quite counterproductive.

'Sort of. Remus and I had a bit of an epiphany while James was lying stunned on the sofa.'

'James was stunned?'

Hermione gave a nervous laugh, 'Yes, he was in quite a flap about his poor Paddy. He thought it
was all my fault you were caught … which it sort of is, but not the point at the moment. I needed to
talk to Remus and it was difficult with James pointing the finger of dire accusation.'

Sirius laughed, 'He's got a temper alright. He'll be pretty pissed you stunned him though. Wish I'd
thought of that. So what did you two realise?'

'That Riddle was supposed to get the brooch. He only has five Horcruxes at the moment, but he
wants six so that he will have a seven-part soul. In the original timeline Harry beats Riddle on
Hallowe'en and he doesn't make the sixth until he gets his body back in 1994, and uses Nagini
because she's there.'

'I'm not one for snakes usually – remind me of the family too much,' Sirius said, 'but that's got be
classed as cruelty to animals, having your soul molested by that creepy psycho.'

'God, I reckon,' she said, looking upset for the people-eating serpent. 'But Dumbledore said that he
was planning to make the last one with Harry's death – it seems Riddle is a bit of a romantic when
it comes to murdering children and tearing his soul apart.'

'Quite,' Sirius said dryly, snatching the last blue biscuit from the tray.

'So, Harry's death would mean he was the victor of the prophecy, and I would think that the idea of
it achieving it on All Hallows Eve would have appealed to him greatly as well – but Dumbledore
never mentioned what object he was going to use.'

'Do you have to make the Horcrux on the spot?'

'Yes,' she said before continuing, 'When I was talking to Remus I just thought he got the brooch
some other way, but when I spoke to your mother she said Bellatrix had asked her for it and she'd
said no because she wanted it to stay in the direct line.'

'I wondered that.' Sirius said, as he picked little blue crumbs from now empty macaroon plate, 'I
kept thinking "why didn't Bella just ask to borrow it".'

'Well she did, but your mother wanted to give it to your daughter – if you have one. But she
wouldn't have had any hope for the direct line last time.'

'Right. So you gave it to them, to make sure Snakey's not delayed in his murderous arrival on the
thirty first?'

Hermione nodded. 'Do you think your mother will be angry? I mean we'll probably be able to
recover it from his body after Dumbledore kills him.'

'As long as we tell her it was a donation to the preservation of the name of Black she'll be quite
happy to give it up,' he said, licking the last of the crumbs off the ends of his fingers.

'Good,' Hermione said. 'Are you feeling a bit better now? You seem better.'

'Yes. You know me – macaroons fix everything.'

'That's not true,' she said quietly. 'I've been feeding them to you for the past two weeks and …'

'We've been over this,' he said. 'I'm a twat, you're a strumpet.'

She half smiled, 'Sirius … I wanted you to know that I feel just the same as you about this. I don't
want to go.'

His heart picked up 'You're ….'

'I'm not staying, but I would if I could find a way to make it work.'

'Okay,' he said, feeling ridiculous for the hope he had now. If he could find a way – she would
stay. Deciding to push his luck because this was the first time they had talked about this when he
hadn't been drunk or hungover, he asked 'And what would happen… if you could find a way?'

She smiled again, 'Well, I suppose… we could go on a second date?'

'Bollocks to that!' He laughed, 'I'm never going on a date with you again. That was the most
horrendous night of my life. My boss poisoned me, I shouted at a normally very nice person and
then spewed on her, and top of all that … I missed out on dessert. Never again.'

'Okay,' she said, a broad smile on her face. 'No dating. So are you going to go to Ollivanders today?
Or do you want to see if the Death Eaters will give your wand back now that their jewellery needs
are satisfied?'

'I think I'll ask Grandfather tonight if he can talk to Bella about getting it back, you know
purebloods; this whole thing will be brushed under the carpet by Bella in the guise of politeness.'
Sirius said, quite distracted by her promise. 'But I might get a new one in the meantime. But I'll
wait til Remus comes over before going out. He can take me.' And help me come up with a plan.
His mind was reeling with new ideas – false documents, alternate egos … he'd think of something.
He hadn't heard back from Lady Fehr yet, but that was still a possibility.

'I'm happy to go if you want it sooner – I know you don't really need a wand here but I can
understand if you feel a bit strange without one. I can protect you just as well as Remus.'

'No.' He said abruptly, realising that she shouldn't be out in public without protection. He would
have to deal with the "a new reason for her leave" problem some other way. 'The thing is, Miss
Fehr, they didn't just take me for the brooch. They might be a bit shirty with me for getting away,
but I doubt they'll bother trying to capture plain old me again. Snakey said himself he's already got
half my family, I'm no threat. He has his psychotic sights set on another family now,' he looked at
her, hoping she wouldn't take it too badly. 'Voldemort wants you to convince your uncle Faustus to
support him – he thinks he can start a following in Europe through the Fehr's. I told him you'd
never do it. But you know Voldy. He doesn't like being told no. So you are to stay here unless
absolutely necessary.'

'I thought it might be something like that,' Hermione said, not looking bothered.

'You did?' he said frowning – she should really be more worried about Voldemort trying to recruit
her.

'Yeah well, it was a bit weird that they wanted me, when you are lovingly reunited with your
family – why would you risk your mother or Pollux getting killed any more than your girlfriend? I
figured with Bellatrix's work in France he'd seize the chance for another point of access to the
continent.'

'So why did you come then?' he asked, frustrated. She had known she was walking into a death
trap.

'Well I couldn't very well leave you there,' she said with a little laugh. 'I didn't know they had a
doggie-door.'

A/N: Thanks to the gracious Emily for her re-arranging, redundant comma removing, tense
correcting eye. A mammoth task I'm sure you'll agree. xx
 Mistletoe and Misdirection

3rd October

Hermione was snoozing in her armchair when Remus and Sirius arrived back from their wand
purchasing mission in the late afternoon. The stress, fear, and all-round general exhaustion had
finally gotten to her at lunchtime, and her head began to droop over her current Remus-read.

Sirius, who was in remarkably good spirits for a man who had been held captive, tortured and then
rescued himself in the last twenty hours, had declared her "boring" from his usual sofa-sprawl
when his apparently heat-seeking paper aeroplanes had failed to attract Hermione's attention even
though they flew into her hair with very accurate and determined force.

She had confiscated her wand from him when he'd made this pronouncement, shaking her loose
hair above him as he pouted at the removal of magical entertainment causing the little folded
pieces of parchment to fall all over him, doing her best to appear irritated – but it was difficult. She
just wanted to smile, and possibly send Riddle a thank you card, a bouquet of flowers and a box of
chocolates for making both her and Sirius realise that there were more important things than hurt
feelings.

Jerking out of her doze as the knocking sounded on the french doors, she put her book aside and
got up to let the two men in. She hoped that Sirius would have finally been tired out by his
adventure to get a new wand and the companionship of Remus who, with a fortnight to go until the
moon did not need as much sleep as your garden-variety human.

Both men had disappointingly huge grins on their faces, however, stamping their feet in the
blustery October afternoon; she had a strong urge to make them stay out there for having the nerve
to look so cheerful when she was tired and worried. Hallowe'en was getting so close, they had just
had a very large scare, and she wasn't allowed to leave the hotel unaccompanied for fear Riddle
would find her and force her into talking a man who probably didn't know he was her "uncle" into
supporting the cause.

She glowered at them – how dare they. 'Faustus Fehr fights for freedom.'

Sirius nodded, dark hair blowing about his face from the strong wind on the exposed perch, 'Okay,
are you ready?' he asked, hooking a finger at the side of his lips to pull out the mouthful of hair he
had received when he spoke, and yanking up the hood on his jacket to prevent it from happening
again. 'I spent half the time at Fort de Sang coming up with the best one of these I could think of,
and it was sodding irritating because I couldn't write it down and kept forgetting half of it, so you'd
better be appreciative.'

'Okay,' Hermione said, resigned; maybe she should get a chair, this could take all night.

Sirius took a deep breath and then rattled off, 'Minnie McGonagall's magical might made my
magnificently marvellous muggle macaroon more moist' he paused to draw breath, then said
'Mmmm' with difficulty, as it is hard to press ones lips together with the required amount of force to
make such a sound, when one is grinning like a smug tosser.

'Good grief' she said laughing and opening the door. 'I'm glad you weren't held there any longer or
it would be dark before you finished that ridiculousness.'

'Yeah, puts yours to shame,' Sirius said proudly as he and Remus came inside, shucking jackets and
chuckling.

As Hermione shut the door behind them she said, 'It does. I'll be sure to use my time more
productively on the next occasion I lay about waiting to be rescued.'

'Pfft,' said Sirius, dismissing her comment with a flick of his hand, 'didn't need you anyway. I am a
master of deception – and house-elf terrification.'

'And word invention,' Remus put in as hoisted himself up onto the edge of the kitchen bench,
shaking his head and saying 'Terrification' under his breath. He sat, swinging his legs and grinning
at the pair of them in a very un-Remus-like fashion.

'What are you so happy about?' Hermione asked, looking at the werewolf.

'Er … my mate's not dead?' he suggested with half a glance at Sirius.

'Oh, right,' Hermione said. 'So, how did it go at Ollivanders?'

'Fine,' Sirius said, and he withdrew the new wand to show her. She had never really paid attention
to his old one before, but thought this one might be slightly lighter in colour. 'Mistletoe, Ollivander
said. Or maybe holly? They all blur into one after you've waved a hundred of the bloody things, not
that it matters really – it's nice enough, but my one is much better.'

Hermione thought he should just be grateful that replacing a wand was so easy; she'd felt so naked
when hers had been left behind at the Malfoys on the first Horcrux hunt, and she could still
remember the look on Harry's face when she told him the phoenix wand had been broken.

'Sirius, that's your one now.' Remus said in a tone that implied this was not the first time he had
made this statement that afternoon.

Sirius sighed and scrunched his nose, looking at the wand in his hand with discontent. 'Yes, but I
haven't given up hope just yet. Grandfather should be able to get mine back.'

'I don't know Pads,' Remus said, with a smirk, 'after you flipped Travers and Carrow the bird before
showing them just how tentacley their faces could be with your lovely new wand, I wouldn't be
surprised if Bellatrix snaps your old one.'

Sirius winced. 'Don't say things like that Moony. Terrible … anyway they were asking for it.'

'You two are kidding, right?' Hermione interjected, her voice rising in horror at the idea that Sirius
had been duelling with Death Eaters in the middle of Diagon Alley, only hours after having
escaped from them.

'No,' Remus laughed, 'and he's right, they did deserve it.'

Hermione glared at the snickering werewolf. 'What has gotten into you? You're meant to be the
sensible one!' she said exasperatedly.

'I am the sensible one - by comparison.' Remus shrugged 'It's very relative, and besides, when you
see two Death Eaters manhandling a shopkeeper the sensible thing to do is to cover their faces in
tentacles.'

'Too right mate.' Sirius said. 'So did you just sit there the whole time we were gone, Hermione?'

'Yes, I was reading,' she snapped, 'and don't change the subject – what if they'd decided to get
revenge for your escape?'

'I doubt they'd been aware I was even captured in the first place,' Sirius said with an airy wave of
his hand. 'Do you really think Voldemort wants everyone knowing? And about the brooch too? I
mean the guards knew who I was but not why I was there, and Bella, Rodolphus and Rab were the
only ones to mention the brooch … the group from the Gala are probably the few that know about
it. Anyway, it's not me they want.'

'That's true… ' Hermione said slowly, 'but you really shouldn't be making a spectacle out of
yourself.'

'But Hermione,' Remus said sadly, 'that's all he knows.' The two boys started sniggering again.

Hermione huffed under her breath. She was very glad things were back to normal, but she had
forgotten just how annoying Sirius could be when he wasn't trying to be nice, and with Remus in
on the game there would be no end to it.

'You should start getting ready, Hermione,' Sirius said chirpily. 'We have to be at Grimmauld at
seven.'

'God, where do you get your energy from?' she asked, feeling even more tired just at the idea of
being Miss Fehr for the evening.

He shrugged 'You know … when you think you're going to die, suddenly being a bit sleepy doesn't
seem to matter that much. And it's your excellent healing powers – you must have been dead useful
on your mission with Harry and his mate.'

Hermione scoffed, 'Everything I know, I learned afterward. That was what made me realise I didn't
know enough. Basic healing was a big part of my research for this.'

'Oh,' Sirius said with another shrug, 'well I think you're better than the healers – they never fix your
clothes too. You're very thorough, Granger.'

She smiled. 'That I am. So you two can make your own tea then. I need to get Fehr-ed up.

Dinner at Grimmauld place was a strange event that night. Kreacher had opened the door for them
as usual but instead of seating them in the drawing room to wait until the meal was ready, led them
upstairs, as Walburga insisted Sirius be seen by a healer, who was waiting in her parlour.

Pollux gave his grandson an apologetic look as Walburga wrapped a firm hand around his upper
arm, saying something about a "Professional opinion". Perhaps it was the unexpected mother-hen
behaviour, but Sirius seemed surprisingly agreeable to being chivvied along like an eleven-year-old
on his first trip to platform nine and three quarters.

Hermione smiled at Pollux as they followed the pair upstairs. 'Seems better off than me, actually,
though I don't know how – he can't have slept since Thursday.'

'Yes, well,' Pollux said distractedly.

Pollux didn't speak again until the two of them had reached the library; Pollux sat in one of the
leather chairs next to his oversized chess set, and hushed the white pieces with a wave of his wand,
for they had begun to cheer and shout challenges at the little onyx soldiers across the board from
them at the sight of him. 'Hermione,' he said as he reached for the whiskey decanter and two
glasses from the silver tray sitting on the corner of the desk nearest to him, 'I wondered if you
could shed some light on something for me?'

'Er … of course Mr Black.' She said, taking a seat next to the black side of the board – intimidated
slightly by the looks of resigned acceptance of impending defeat the dark figures were giving her.
Could they already tell she was awful at chess? She shrank further back into the chair to avoid the
disheartened glances.

But Pollux was not giving any attention to the chess pieces now; he concentrated on pouring a
quick dram from the crystal bottle, then lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed it down in one
mouthful. He half-filled both of the glasses he'd retrieved from the tray and handed one to
Hermione. Then he fixed her with a serious look and began to speak. 'Now, this morning you said
you had fought their kind before. What did you mean by that?'

Hermione took a moment to answer, her pulse quickening as she accepted the drink he was holding
out to her. This was dangerous territory; she remembered what Harry had told her he'd learned in
his Auror training about ways to hold up under interrogation. Always stick to the facts as closely as
possible; it's much easier to lie if you're telling the truth. 'Well …' she said slowly 'You're aware of
most of Sirius's activities at this point, I believe. You know he is on Dumbledore's side?'

Pollux nodded, 'Yes of course, damn boy keeps trying to convince me it's the way of the future.'

'It is, Mr Black,' she said simply. 'We've been doing some work for Dumbledore for the last few
months.'

'You have? Both of you?' Pollux looked wary as he took a small sip of his drink.

Hermione tried to come up with the best way to tell the truth without ruining everything. 'Yes,' she
said, 'I've been involved since July – actually it was the night before I met you for the first time –
when Sirius and I went with some others to rescue Edgar Bones' children.'

'Oh yes, I heard about that – in Glasgow? You lost one of your fighters, didn't you?'

'We did,' Hermione said quietly, as the image of Benjy Fenwick's broken masonry-covered body
flashed through her mind, followed by a startlingly clear picture of the death-tally page from her
notes, with the words they only found bits of him burning on the parchment. 'But the Death Eaters
lost four that night; he would have said it was almost worth it.'

'Why would someone like you go, Hermione? I can't imagine your mother being very happy about
it.' Pollux seemed concerned.

Hermione was able to use the truth once more. 'She agrees with Dumbledore. They are old friends.'

'Really?' Pollux's eyebrows contracted. 'I was not aware of that.' He was quiet for a moment. 'This
work you and my grandson are doing for Dumbledore wouldn't have anything to do with Sirius's
sudden return to the family would it?'

Hermione was at loss; he didn't look angry, but maybe a little disappointed. 'It was an unexpected
benefit; it changed the ways in which Sirius could help,' she said at length. 'Sirius had spoken with
you already and decided to return if Mrs Black would allow it. When he mentioned that,
Dumbledore saw it as a way to become closer to the less savoury members of your family.'

'I see,' Pollux murmured after swallowing the last of his second glass, 'So my grandson has been
gathering information on us?'

'Not on you or Mrs Black,' Hermione clarified. 'Sirius is so happy you are on speaking terms again,
but the night of the Gala, when you er … rescued us from Bellatrix, we had been listening to them.
That's how I knew why they wanted the brooch.'

Pollux frowned at her. 'I see,' he said again. 'And what has changed recently?'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked, puzzled; Sirius had kept up his contact with the family after
getting the cup, so nothing should have changed from the Black's point of view.

'Sirius has not been his usual self for the last … maybe month, very up and down,' Pollux said, the
frown deepening across his forehead. 'Sometimes he seems … distracted, or - I'm not sure - uneasy
perhaps? Is it this work you are doing, or …'

'Mr Black,' Hermione said, another piece of re-arranged truth falling from her lips. 'That may be
my fault. We had a bit of an argument a few weeks ago.'

'Oh,' Pollux said, the frown lifting, 'well, that's only to be expected.' He poured another short glass
and sat back in his chair. 'This work you are doing for Dumbledore, it is dangerous?'

'Not at the moment,' Hermione said with a smile.

Pollux looked reassured. 'That's good. Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason; if this is how
he decides to use his bravery it is not my place to complain.'

Hermione smiled again and took a sip of her whiskey, her pulse calming now that Pollux wasn't
staring at her, determined to uncover the truth. She was happy that she hadn't really lied to him. If
some form of the truth came out after she went back to 2001, at least Sirius wouldn't have a web of
lies to compete with if he wanted to continue his relationship with his family.

'So, Hermione, should the House of Black be concerned about this argument between you and our
heir?' Pollux was giving her an odd look - was it possible for someone to look threatening in a
friendly way?

Hermione decided on a partial truth again, and the opportunity to give her sudden disappearance in
four weeks some premeditated credibility. 'I don't think so Mr Black. You see, I have to go back
home for a while, well I don't have to, but I want to. Sirius is not very happy about it, but I'm sure
we'll figure it out.'

'This is for your career?' Pollux asked, giving her even more false fodder to work with. 'Sirius
mentioned to me that you wanted a career before marriage,' he added when Hermione looked
surprised that he had guessed such a thing. 'Why is that so important? Surely you don't need to
work, both your family and ours could support Sirius, yourself and many children for the rest of
your lives.'

'There is a cause within the Ministry that is very dear to me,' Hermione said. 'I could do it while
married, but not from Britain and I would never ask Sirius to move to Switzerland, not when he has
his responsibilities here.'

'What is this cause?' Pollux asked interested.

'I'm afraid you might not approve, Mr Black.' Hermione said, her first proper lie of the evening –
she definitely knew Pollux would not approve.

'My dear,' Pollux said with a tut, 'most of my grandchildren are Death Eaters, or married to them,
surely it cannot be as bad as that?'
'I don't think so, but it is not a subject you and I would see eye to eye on.'

'Come now,' Pollux said in an entirely different tone, there was friendly challenge in his voice now.
'Tell me,' he smiled, 'you cannot say a thing like that and not let me debate with you on it!'

If Pollux wants a debate he will get a debate, Hermione thought, putting her drink down on the
table next to the chess set, and pulling all her research to the front of her mind. She had wanted an
opportunity to challenge this intelligent but bigoted man for some time. 'I want to improve the
social rights of magical creatures,' she said, yet another useful truth.

Pollux gaped at her. 'You're joking,' he said with a half-laugh.

'No, Mr Black. I hate the way wizards treat magical creatures, I really do. If they can't speak, like
cats or owls, we love them and treat them with respect – but give them a voice and suddenly they
are second class.'

'An interesting premise,' said Pollux appreciatively, tapping his finger on the side of his glass, 'but
not always true. Goblins are respected; are they included in the list of creatures you wish to help?

'Goblins are resented, not respected,' Hermione said. 'If they didn't hold your family's livelihood in
their vaults would you still be polite to them? Or would they just be metal-working house-elves?'

'Hmm, a valid point,' Pollux replied, finger still tapping away as he thought of a counter for her
statement. Then he looked at her and asked, 'So elves are part of this too? Surely not - they love
their work. I will admit Kreacher can be grouchy but he lives to serve.'

'Yes, house-elves,' Hermione said, forcefully, 'their plight was what alerted me to the whole system
of prejudice in the first place. They have been brainwashed and downtrodden for centuries. It's
disgusting.'

'But Hermione, they are happy,' Pollux said incredulously. 'Servants with ideas above their station
can be troublesome. The elves do not complain, so why bother?'

'Because such abuse isn't right, Mr Black. Centaurs are another group – such wise creatures and yet
they are corralled into smaller and smaller areas. They are peaceful beings; I will never understand
how wizards justify the treatment of them. Why is obvious: wizards are threatened by anything
different from themselves. Werewolves, for the same reason.'

Pollux's mouth dropped open in shock and then he began to laugh. 'Okay my dear, you got me.
Well played.'

'Mr Black, I'm not joking,' she said seriously. 'Werewolves are highly misunderstood.'

'They are dangerous half-breeds.' Pollux's voice was harsh. 'You have no idea the damage they
have done in Britain.'

'I have a very good idea, actually,' Hermione said, her temper rising. Maybe it had not been wise to
get into this discussion with Pollux after all. 'This year there have been seventy attacks so far, and
there are still three full moons left of the year. Last year there were sixty five attacks in total, and in
'79 there were fifty eight. The numbers are on the rise because – '

'And you think they deserve rights?' Pollux interrupted her, he sounded angry and concerned for
her mental stability.

'Mr Black, of those one hundred and ninety three attacks in the last three years, how many
werewolves committed the crimes?' Hermione asked determined to make him understand.

Pollux shook his head, 'That doesn't matter Hermione, they are cruel and vicious animals driven by
blood.'

'Four,' Hermione said. 'All the attacks in the last three years were committed by the same four
wolves.'

'I didn't know the number was so low,' Pollux said, genuine surprise showing on his face.

'And they are being driven and controlled by Voldemort,' she added.

Pollux's head snapped up, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the use of the name, 'You really are one of
them, aren't you?'

'One of whom?'

'Dumbledore's, his Order. No one else uses the Dark Lord's name.'

'I am, and I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you in the first place, Mr Black. It was important to Sirius
that you forgave him so I hid my true beliefs. I'll understand if you don't wish him to see me
anymore.'

Then abruptly Pollux laughed, 'You say that as though I have a choice my dear. That boy is me,
with perhaps a bit more courage and a bit less forethought. I couldn't keep him away from you if I
tried.' Then he shook his head and laughed even more, 'If I did, he'd just turn into that great hulking
dog and bite me probably.'

Hermione smiled. 'You're not wrong. But don't you see, why is it okay that your grandson can
become a dog once a month or more, but he's not classified as a magical creature?'

Pollux sighed, 'Because he chooses it Hermione, the situation is different, the werewolves have no
control.'

'Doesn't that make Sirius worse?' Hermione pushed. 'He wants to be an animal. Werewolves have it
forced on them. How can we punish them for something they didn't choose?'

'One could make the same argument for mudbloods.' Pollux said dismissively.

'I'm glad you're coming round Mr Black,' she said cheekily, realising that arguing with this man
was not going to get her anywhere. Perhaps charm was the way to go.

He chuckled, 'You are like your mother.'

'Thank you.' She said smiling. 'But really, is that the only argument you can come up with? That
they don't choose to have, at most, fourteen hours of being a wolf once a month? I can tell you
Sirius is canine much more often than that.'

'But werewolves are affected by it most of the time,' Pollux insisted 'they are stronger, hungrier –
they anger more easily than people. They are very unstable.'

'They are stronger,' Hermione admitted, 'I will give you that, but they are not hungrier and not all
are unstable – a werewolf that I know is quite calm, all of the time, one of my more rational
friends. And I would point out that Sirius has many doglike qualities that stem from his ability, if
that is really your problem with wolves.'
'Really?' Pollux asked, interested.

'Get Kreacher to serve ribs one night. You'll see what I mean,' she said with a little laugh.

Pollux snorted, then he seemed to realise the significance of the rest of her previous statement.
'You are friends with a werewolf?' He asked sharply.

'Yes,' Hermione nodded 'and he is just as clever as me, a wonderful man who – '

The door to the library opened suddenly. 'Grandfather, you better have some bloody whiskey in
here,' Sirius fumed as he stormed across the room, eyes fixed on the decanter and glasses on the
edge of Pollux's desk. 'That crackpot has been making me drink the most revolting potions in
existence.'

'Hello Sirius,' Hermione said, amused at his whining.

He turned to see her sitting in the armchair. 'Hi,' he said, pouring a measure from the crystal bottle.
'You are my full time healer from now on,' he said ardently, before throwing back the drink in one
go, sloshing it around his mouth. 'Merlin,' he said hoarsely after swallowing, 'that's better, honestly
don't be surprised if I collapse during dinner; I think the old coot was trying to kill me.'

Hermione and Pollux both chuckled at his expression of horror.

'So what have you two been doing while I suffered up there?' Sirius asked perching on the arm of
Hermione's chair.

An onyx pawn from the chess board called up to him 'Get away! You pilfering limp-wristed
braggart!'

Pollux laughed and silenced the board again with his wand, Hermione looked at Sirius in surprise.
'They didn't insult me, and I've been sitting here for an hour.'

Sirius glared down at the silent but still gesticulating pawn. 'You, however, didn't hand the cheeky
blighter over to the white bishop – who is famous for his inventive dismemberments – all in the
name of my failed battle plan. I bet he wouldn't care if I'd even won,' Sirius huffed as he reached
across Hermione and picked up the little black soldier between finger and thumb. He grinned evilly
at the struggling figure for a moment, and then promptly dropped him head first into the half inch
of amber liquid in Hermione's glass.

'Wasteful,' Pollux muttered.

Sirius shrugged 'Sorry, so did you two talk about me the whole time I was gone, or just mostly?'

'There was a brief mention,' Hermione said, smiling at him, 'about how peaceful it was without you
drowning helpless soldiers and complaining about the hardships of being cared for by your
mother.'

He laughed, 'Anything else interesting?'

'Werewolves,' said Pollux without preamble.

Sirius looked down at Hermione, his eyebrow raised. 'What are you up to Miss Fehr?' he asked.
'You'll make poor Granddad have a heart attack with such frightening conversation.'

'He asked me why I want to go back to Switzerland soon,' Hermione said with a shrug, 'so I told
him about the work I want to do there.'

Hermione thought Sirius might not like the mention of her departure, but she was wrong – a
mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he replied, 'Very good Miss Fehr.'

'Sirius, I think it's been long enough now, you may use my first name.' Hermione said smoothly,
accepting her role as straight man.

Pollux grinned at the pair's antics. 'So boy, what do you think about Hermione being friends with a
werewolf?'

'Well,' Sirius said seeming to give the question serious thought. 'I was quite threatened by him at
first Grandfather. I mean what was I to do?'

Pollux looked towards Hermione, slight triumph in his face.

She tried very hard to keep a neutral expression so Sirius could have his fun.

'He is strong, and can see much better in the dark – but the worst part is, he's much smarter than
me, has far more in common with Hermione, and I was the one who introduced them.'

'You're friends with one too?' Pollux shock seemed to have made him confused.

'Yes, the same one.' Sirius said 'He's tops. You'd love him, can argue me into the ground.'

'Sweet Circe,' Pollux said faintly 'you weren't kidding about a heart attack. Why would you even be
friends with him?'

'I just told you. He's tops. Deal with it.' Sirius said, fishing the pawn from Hermione's glass and
popping him back on the board where he weaved for a moment before plonking down heavily on
his backside.

'Sirius,' Pollux said sternly, 'you cannot expect me to –'

'Yes I can, Grandfather. I've known him for ten years, he's never hurt anyone, and I'm betting if
you and Hermione were talking about this she's already told you – probably with a diagram and
equations – that most werewolves are not the dangerous animals you seem to think they are. So
don't tell me what to expect. You need to open your mind.' Sirius threw back the pawn-whiskey,
and then winked at Pollux 'It's the way of the future Granddad. You'll get it soon enough.'

Sirius thought that the meal served by Kreacher that evening was possibly the most delicious thing
he had ever tasted, probably because anything would be an improvement on the foulness he had
ingested in his mothers parlour with the sadistic and smug Healer Bethnal. The elderly St Mungo's
employee had insisted on so many bizarre concoctions that Sirius was quite sure it was some
elaborate prank cooked up by his mother - or he would have done if his mother possessed any kind
of sense of humour at all.

Pollux looked at him oddly all through dinner, but didn't say anything unusual. Sirius thought it
was likely that his grandfather was still coming to terms with the idea that the only heir to the
Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was mates with a werewolf, but behind the hazel eyes was
a confusing emotion – his grandfather almost looked sad, and that worried Sirius. He would expect
Pollux to be annoyed, disgusted, or even afraid of such information, but not sad about it.

After dinner, just as the dessert bowls were being cleared, there was a loud urgent rapping on the
front door.

Kreacher vanished with the stack of plates and within moments they heard the CRACK of him
reappearing at the door, divested of crockery.

'Mr and Mrs Lestrange,' Kreacher said, after the clicking of the many locks had ceased, and the elf
had opened the door a crack.

'Oh shit,' Sirius muttered, eyes snapping to Hermione – surely they wouldn't try anything here.
Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a disillusionment charm on herself in a second, and Sirius
saw her shimmering shape get up from her chair.

He looked across the table at his mother. She had gotten to her feet, wand in her hand. 'Of all the
discourtesies,' she hissed in a disbelieving tone, 'calling during dinner.'

Sirius snorted as he felt the trickling down his back that told him Hermione had disillusioned him
as well. Yes, that was his mother – Bellatrix and her husband had held her only son to ransom and
she was annoyed because they had returned to murder him at an inconvenient time.
 Flight to Bethnal

3rd October

Sirius's heart was racing as he got up from the table. Pollux stood too, looking between Sirius and
Hermione's indistinct shapes and withdrawing his wand, though he – like Walburga – was frozen,
unsure of the best course of action. Suddenly there was a loud CRACK and Kreacher appeared
between Walburga and Pollux where they were now standing side by side. 'Young Lestrange is
here, with his wife and children Master,' the elf said to Pollux, 'They seek refuge, Lestrange is
hurt.'

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. Young Lestrange, but why would he come here? He had some
nerve. And what would he need refuge from? Surely he had cemented his place as loyal Death
Eater with the poisoning and subsequent capture of Sirius.

Pollux looked at him. 'Shall I send them away?'

'Sirius,' Hermione said urgently from beside him, 'they must have run – his wife and children, you
said they were locked up.'

Sirius looked down at the blurry form of Hermione, and pulled out his new wand to lift the
disillusionment charm she had cast on him. 'You're right,' he said to her, 'but I don't see how that's
our problem.' He turned away and hurried from the room, intent on telling Rab to piss off, because
the last thing Sirius needed was to give an angry Bellatrix another reason to come visiting at the
House of Black. As he walked swiftly towards the front door, wand in hand, he registered his
mother and grandfather following at his heels. Sirius pulled open the door roughly. 'You have a
bloody cheek coming here Lestrange.' he said viciously.

'Sirius, please,' Rabastan begged, his voice worn, 'they are after us, I did what you said,'

As the light from the hall fell over the people on the stoop Sirius's cutting reply died in his throat.
Rabastan's face was swollen, with a black bruise shadowing from his jaw down the side of his
neck. A dark red split ran through his puffy bottom lip, and he was holding himself at an awkward
angle.

Sirius's eyes moved over the other four people crowded onto the doorstep. Rabastan's wife Loretta
who Sirius had only met once, all dressed up and perfectly turned out at the Gala, looked distinctly
the worse for wear, with her light brown hair coming down from its tidy arrangement. Her face
was pale apart from blotchy red patches across her cheeks and the tip of her nose, and black
smudges below her bloodshot eyes. Three children clung to her - two young girls and a little boy –
also showing signs of recent tears on their faces.

'I got your wand,' Rabastan said, moving a stiff arm under his travelling cloak. Sirius stared at
them, at a total loss of what to do; he raised his new wand a little higher as Rabastan fumbled
beneath his cloak. This man had poisoned him twenty-four hours ago and Sirius was out of his
mind to be considering letting them come in – but the people next to him were the reason Rabastan
had done as Bella had asked, and he was injured. 'Here,' Rabastan said, holding out Sirius's real
wand with a pained grimace on his face as he extended his arm.

'Sirius, let them in,' Hermione said softly from beside him. Sirius looked at her - she had removed
the disillusionment charm - he dithered; since when was he a soft touch for a bashed-in Death
Eater?
'My boy, I think you should,' Pollux said in his reassuring voice.

'Right,' Sirius said, coming to a decision. He held out his hand - left hand, as the pale new wand in
his right was still covering the run-away family. 'Wands, both of you. Then you can come in.'

Loretta obeyed at once, almost flinging her wand at Sirius and dragging the children into the
house. From the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Hermione move toward her, but he stayed fixed,
staring fiercely at Rabastan.

'Are you going to hurt them Sirius?' the injured man asked as Sirius accepted his real wand from
Rabastan's still outstretched hand. 'I brought them here to be protected; you can't ask me to give up
my only weapon.'

'Yes I can,' Sirius growled at him, 'They can stay. You can leave if you'd rather, but I'm not having
you at my back with a wand in your hand, you…'

With a sudden movement that caused him to grunt in pain, Rabastan held out his wand. 'Here,
then.'

Sirius took it, closing his fingers tightly around the three wands he now held in his left fist, and
stepping back to let Rabastan into the entranceway. He closed the door, and with a flick of his
wand the locks began to clink and grind and fell decisively into place. Without warning, Rabastan
made a strange noise somewhere between a sigh and high pitched keen, before he collapsed in a
heap on the floor with a dull thud.

'Merlin!' exclaimed Pollux, 'what?'

Sirius was already crouching beside Rab, fingers at his bruised neck - there was fluttering beneath
the skin. He looked down at the man, unsure where to start, then Pollux was beside him pushing
aside the thick travelling cloak. There was no blood; Sirius reached forward and lifted Rab's eyelid
-only white showed.

Pollux was undoing the buttons of the exiled Death Eater's shirt. 'I'm out of my depth here, Sirius,'
his grandfather said as he took in the unusual set of Rab's shoulder. 'Get Walburga, she knows
more than me.' As he finally succeeded in moving the fabric of the prone man's shirt and cloak
aside, he gasped - a massive dark mottled bruise was visible across his abdomen, red at the edges,
almost black in the middle. It stretched from below the waistband of his trousers to the underside
of his ribs. 'Mungo's,' Pollux croaked, 'Walburga won't be able to fix this.'

Sirius was already on his feet. 'Where are they?' he asked, looking around; he hadn't even noticed
that the others had left the entryway.

'The drawing room' Pollux said, and Sirius took off, running like he hadn't done in this house since
he was a child, his feet pounding on the stairs. 'Hermione?' He called, as he reached the landing -
maybe she would be able to help. 'Mother,' he said throwing himself into the room, 'Floo St
Mungo's, Rab's really hurt. Hermione, come and help.'

'He's hurt?' Loretta's voice was high and uneven; she was sitting on the wide couch, her girls
cuddled on either side of her and her son on her knee. 'He said it was just a few bruises.' She made
to stand up.

'Loretta,' Hermione said, from where she was standing next to Walburga at the end of the couch, 'I
think it's best if you keep the children calm, they've had a hard enough time this evening. They will
panic without you.' Loretta looked like she was going to interrupt, but Hermione cut her off, 'I will
go and look at him while Mrs Black gets hold of St Mungo's. Then she can bring you down to wait
with him until the healer gets here. I'm sure they won't take long, one only just left a little while
ago.'

Loretta nodded mutely, clutching her children to her.

Once on the landing Hermione turned to him. 'I think you should floo Mungo's, Sirius. I would
very much like Mrs Black's help if it's as bad as you say. I'm not a healer.'

He nodded, that did make more sense. They thundered back down the stairs - even his mother was
quick on her feet, though it was odd to see her moving at anything but a sedate dignified pace.

Hermione and Walburga stooped at Rabastan's side the moment they had reached the entranceway.
Pollux looked quite lost as the two women discussed what to do in low mutters, wands waving.
Sirius barrelled past, down the stairs to the kitchen to use the fire.

He crossed the long room at a run, seized a handful of floo powder from the dish on the mantle
over the large fire and bent to his knees. Sirius threw the sparkling grey powder into the already
crackling flames, 'St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Emergency Department,'
he recited in one breath before thrusting his head into the now green flames.

There was nothing but uncomfortable spinning for a moment before it stopped. He was looking out
at a sterile, pale-walled room; a witch in lime green robes was holding a clipboard and sitting in a
low chair that put her on speaking level with the fire place. 'I need a healer,' Sirius said at once.

'For yourself or someone else?' she asked. Her tone was brisk, the sound of someone who had
asked that question many times before.

'Someone else,' Sirius said in a hurry. 'He has … he has a big bruise,' he added somewhat lamely,
realising at he said it that "a big bruise" didn't really sum up the injury very well at all.

The healer looked up from her clipboard, a small frown on her face, 'is it on his head?'

'No, his stomach, it's,' … merlin what was it called … 'it's internal bleeding,' he said as the phrase
came back to him.

The healer stood up quickly, scribbling on the clipboard, 'How old is the patient?'

'I don't know, nearly thirty maybe, at the most, he's passed out – you have to get someone quick!'

'Bring him through the connection,' she said, quill still dashing across the clipboard, before she tore
the piece of parchment free and flicked her wand at it – sending the slip flying out of Sirius's
limited view. 'We will have a bed ready.'

'No, he's … he's been attacked by Death Eaters. He is hiding, with his family, they could get him
here. He's at the House of Black.' He wished the woman would hurry up and understand.

'I would think the Death Eaters could get him there too,' the healer said, unimpressed with Sirius's
snappish tone.

'No,' he said, trying to sound more polite, but failing, 'I'm Sirius Black – I'm an Auror and he's my
friend. Please can someone come? Healer Bethnal was just here earlier, he'll tell you it's safe.'

The healer gave him a look, as though deciding whether or not he was telling the truth; she
obviously came to a favourable conclusion because she said, 'I will find Healer Bethnal. Come
through and sign these house-call forms while I get him.'

Sirius clambered quickly out of the fire into the cubical style reception; there were a row of
fireplaces along the wall with other healers talking to heads in the flames, taking notes or passing
vials of potion through to them.

Sirius scribbled with the quill attached to the clipboard, putting all his anxiety into each signature,
his normally legible handwriting becoming more and more like chicken scratching as the time
passed. There were little red crossed bone and wand emblems indicating were he had to sign; by
the time he reached what he was sure was the twentieth mark, the first healer had returned with the
sinister-potions-pushing Healer Bethnal.

'Another injury Black?' he said as he approached; he was bald, pate shining in the bright lights of
the emergency call centre, but he made up for the lack of upper hair with a massive bushy white
beard that fluffed out wider than his ears and long enough to rest on his chest. It was his comical
appearance that had tricked Sirius into succumbing to the vile liquids bald Bethnal had tipped
down his throat in the first place; surely a man who looked so humorous couldn't wish him any
harm. How wrong he had been.

'Not me,' Sirius said shaking his head, 'my friend.' He didn't want to say Rab's name in case it made
the healer hesitant to come. Everyone knew the name of Lestrange.

'Okay,' Bethnal said, 'lead the way.'

Sirius thrust the forms back at the female healer, 'Thanks,' he said before diving back through the
still-open floo connection.

He held out a hand to help the healer up when he arrived behind Sirius in the kitchen, then he was
walking swiftly up the staircase to the entryway, Bethnal in tow.

Rabastan was still sprawled on the floor, Hermione crouched at his side; she looked relieved when
Sirius entered, Bethnal only a step behind, despite the fact that the healer's eyes went wide at the
disfigurement. 'It's not magical,' she said. 'Mrs Black and I have fixed his face and broken shoulder
– those were caused by magic - but this,' she gestured to the crimson edged black shape, 'it's from
impact.'

'Kicking, we think,' said Pollux from where he was leaning against the banister, wand still in his
hand as though afraid his granddaughter would burst through the front door at any moment.

The Healer nodded and set to work; Hermione stood and backed away, coming to stand beside
Sirius in the doorway to the kitchen stairs. 'Are you alright?' she asked. Her voice was concerned,
but she wasn't looking at Sirius – her eyes were fixed on the healer's stooped form, his loose green
robes hiding Rab's injured torso from view.

'Of course,' Sirius said, unable to look away from pair on the floor.

'I know he's your friend,' Hermione said gently.

'He poisoned me!' Sirius muttered.

'Yes, but his family was in danger – this proves it. He woke up while you were gone, he was in a
lot of pain, and he said the Death Eaters think he helped you get away. They have no idea how you
managed it. Rabastan got caught by Bellatrix when he was getting your wand. God knows how he
got out of there. They think he's a traitor now.'
Sirius shook his head as he looked at Rab; he still had the wary expression on his face, even while
passed out. Hermione slipped her hand into his, curling her fingers around – it was a gesture of
understanding that was so familiar to him now, more proof that that any ill feeling between them
had been chased away by bigger and more threatening things. 'Do you think we should ask
Dumbledore to hide them?' she asked softly, 'I mean, they can hardly stay here, Bellatrix will be
round for tea next week.'

Sirius grunted, still not shifting his gaze from his injured idiot of a friend, an odd daze drifting over
him as he watched, like it was merely a dream, or a muggle television program, 'Which you're not
going to by the way. I've had enough of this shit.' He tightened his grip on her hand, 'One more
bloody month – thank Merlin – and after that I'm asking Moony if he wants to move to Hawaii.'

'I'm jealous,' Hermione said, her voice vague, like she too was affected by the sense of unreality.
'Hawaii sounds brilliant.'

'I'd say come along, but if I'm going with Moony there won't be room on those little islands for
both of your book collections.' Sirius teased, their conversation still not rising above a whisper as
bushy bearded Bethnal poked and prodded at Rab with his wand. Hermione snorted lightly. 'I'd
never ask either of you to choose between me and your books,' He added, quietly 'else I'd be living
there all alone.'

'I'm sure we could pool our resources.' Hermione said in that same far away tone.

Sirius smiled slightly to himself. 'I think that might be the most flattering thing you have ever said
to me.'

Their odd conversation was halted when the healer stood up. He looked from Pollux to Sirius,
unsure who to address. Sirius pulled himself from the weird dreamy tropical-island fog that had
descended on him and Hermione, and took a step forward, asking 'Will he …?' He tapered off; he
didn't really want to finish the sentence.

'He will be fine very soon. I must go back to the hospital and collect some potions,' Merlin, they
were trying to heal him, not put him in more discomfort. 'Can you move him to a bed while I'm
gone please? There is a specialized potion I need, really the only one that can heal such damaged
internal organs – both his liver and stomach are ruptured. He would not have lived for two more
hours if you hadn't contacted St Mungo's.'

These words wiped the dreamy state completely from Sirius's brain 'Then what are you waiting
for?' he said impatiently. 'We'll move him – go. His wife and children are upstairs for Merlin's
sake.'

Healer Bethnal nodded and hurried past Sirius down the stairs to the kitchen. Despite his sharp
tone, Sirius could feel the tight knot in his stomach loosening already. Rab was going to be okay.
Sirius drew his wand - his wand that Rab had risked his life to bring back to him. Surely it was
right to forgive the man when he had tried so hard to earn it. 'Mobilicorpus.' Sirius levitated Rab's
prone figure toward the staircase. 'Where shall I put him mother?' Sirius asked Walburga who had
just arrived at the foot of the stairs; she must have been in the drawing room with Letty and the
kids, Sirius realised.

'In your old room would be best I think; there is enough space there for the healer to move around.'
She said stepping off the staircase so Sirius could pass her. Sirius nodded and moved Rab's body
up the stairs carefully. 'I must have known something,' he heard his mother say to Hermione as the
two women followed him, 'I had Kreacher clean it just last week,' she raised her voice slightly,
'although he had some trouble with your decorations, Sirius. I believe he was unable to get them
down.'

Sirius smirked to himself; he knew the ones she meant. In a fit of teenage rebellion – though he
wasn't sure if it could be described as a fit when it was more often than not the constant standard of
behaviour – he had plastered his walls with every offensive image he could find; offensive not by
most people's standards but specifically to his mother - muggle motorbikes, Gryffindor banners and
girls in bikinis were right up there with full frontal nudity and puppies with their heads cut off.

Hermione skirted around in front of him to open the door when they reached the tiny topmost
landing, and Sirius was presented with a sight he had not seen in six years. The shambles of
clothing and personal effects on the floor and the mess he'd left the bed in were gone, and it was
not as dusty was he expected it to be having been uninhabited for so long, but the room still felt the
same. It wasn't a pleasant place for Sirius to be.

A strange feeling of resentment rose inside him as he directed Rabastan to the wide four poster bed.
He had felt like a prisoner in this room, even more so than he had when he'd been an actual
prisoner in the bedroom at Forte de Sang.

The feeling increased when he turned to see his mother standing in the doorway, as she had done so
often to hurl insults at him during the holidays of his time at Hogwarts. He was sure no one had
ever hated the holidays like he had. He only ever returned to Grimmauld Place for the summers;
Pollux had convinced his mother to let him spend Easter and Christmas at the castle.

He'd had many solitary holidays in his first years of school; though James had always invited him
to the Potters' place, Orion had forbidden Sirius from leaving the school. In the two years before he
left the house for good, Remus had often stayed at school with him, claiming Madam Pomfrey was
much better at treating his full moon injuries than Remus's father, and at both Christmas and Easter
in third year the moon had fallen during the break. At the time it hadn't seemed strange to Sirius
that spending the holiday sitting by his sick mate's bedside was more fun than being at home – but
he supposed it wasn't usual for most families.

He was snapped out of his reminiscences by Healer Bethnal's voice calling from below; Walburga
left the room to fetch him.

'Are you okay?' Hermione asked, 'you look a bit peaky, has it finally caught up with you?'

'Has what caught up with me?' Sirius asked, confused.

Hermione looked at her watch, 'Well, you must have been awake for forty hours by now, and I
don't think fainting counts as sleep.'

'I think you might be right,' he admitted, as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him suddenly. 'We
have to sort out Loretta and the children, but then we'll go home. I'm no use to Rab, he'll be safe
locked in here for a day or two, but the rest of his family should be somewhere safer while he
recovers.'

'Pollux said he was going to contact Dumbledore for help,' Hermione said.

Sirius looked at her incredulously. 'How?'

'I don't know, he just said he would.'

'Well it's too late for that now, we need to get them away from here tonight; Bella and Rodolphus
might come looking for them here.'
'Pollux also said he was strengthening the wards,' Hermione added, 'something about removing
them from a list.'

Sirius smiled. 'Never thought I'd see the day.' Not only had his sojourn at Fort de Sang repaired his
friendship with Hermione, but the turn of events had clearly shifted his grandfather's allegiance, if
he was talking to Dumbledore and banning family from the house. Sirius was shocked to find that
beneath the general loathing he felt for the Death Eaters and everything they stood for, there was a
tiny amount of gratefulness. But that was probably just his sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on
him.

'Where is he? I need to see him!' Loretta's voice carried from the drawing room as Sirius and
Hermione descended the stairs, having left Bethnal doling out the tincture that was the only known
remedy for severe internal injuries. Sirius was quite envious that Rab was still unconscious, as the
nearly black liquid had a definite aura of taste-bud molestation about it; Sirius wished he had been
granted such a courtesy before having to choke down the mad man's brews.

'Loretta, please calm yourself, the children are frightened,' Sirius heard Pollux say, in a reassuring
tone.

Sirius pushed open the door to the drawing room. If he'd thought Loretta looked dishevelled
before, he was mistaken; her hair was mostly loose now, though a few resilient pins had held up
against what had obviously been a trying time for them as the young woman had pulled at her hair
in anxious worry over her husband, and her normally refined expression was fraught and panicked.

'You can go and see him now,' Sirius said to the distressed wife. 'The healer is with him, says he'll
be right in a jiffy. He needs to rest for twenty four hours but he'll be back to his old self in no time.'
Loretta hadn't heard anything more than "you can see him now" before she was pushing past
Sirius; he called after her 'Keep going up til you reach the last landing – he's in the room on your
right.'

'I did try to tell her,' Pollux said.

'Father is going to be okay?' one of the girls on the couch asked, looking at Pollux.

He nodded. 'Yes my dear, he will be fine.'

'Auntie Bella is so mean!' the girl said looking at her sister.

'I told you she was crazy,' the other girl, who looked to be the older of the two said, her eyes wide
as she looked at Pollux, adding 'sorry Mr Black. But we heard her, she told the men to hurt Father,'
she turned her innocent expression on Sirius, 'because he helped him.'

'It's quite all right Kathryn, I know Bellatrix is not a nice person,' Pollux said kindly. 'Your father
did the right thing taking you away from there, you're safe now.'

'Grandfather, Hermione said you were going to contact Dumbledore?' Sirius asked still unsure how
this would be possible.

'Yes, and I have.' Pollux said with a brief dip of his head.

'Er … how?'

'My old friend Tiberius, we were governors of St Mungos together; he is friendly with
Dumbledore, and he passed on the message.'
'Can you trust him?' Sirius asked sharply.

'Yes my boy,' Pollux said patiently 'Mr Ogden is well respected, he's on the Wizengamot now.
Dumbledore will be here soon.'

Sirius could not think of a reply to this. He grinned at the name - a real Mr Ogden, how funny. But
the idea of Dumbledore at Grimmauld Place was very odd indeed. 'Does Mother know? She might
curse him the minute he steps out of the fire.'

Pollux chuckled, 'That is a good point.'

CRACK

The noise as Kreacher appeared in the drawing room made Sirius jump. 'Master,' the elf said
urgently, 'the mudblood lover Dumbledore is in the kitchen fire – I tried to send him away but he
would not go, I don't know how he managed to get in, but he is angry now.'

Pollux was taken aback, 'Angry? I asked him here Kreacher, bring him up.'

'Yes Master.' Kreacher said, his bloodshot eyes shifty.

When Dumbledore entered the drawing room five minutes later Sirius thought it was probably one
of the stranger moments in his life. The man epitomised everything light, and here he was in the
blackest of black House of Black. His purple robes and long white hair were as normal – his
twinkling eyes uncertain but calm all the same. However, the Professor sported a large egg on his
forehead that was certainly not usually there.

'Professor,' Sirius said, 'thank you for coming - we didn't know what to do.'

'My pleasure Sirius,' Dumbledore said with a tiny bow, his eyes moving to Pollux. He extended his
hand and took another step toward the patriarch 'Mr Black, I am glad Tiberius was able to reach
me. It was wise of you to inform me.'

Pollux was standing tall, shoulders square as he took Dumbledore's hand and shook it. 'Yes, our
family connections may be useful to some, but they are a problem this evening.' There was a
calculating glint in Sirius's grandfather's eye as he spoke. Did he know more than he was supposed
to? Sirius caught Hermione's eye and she nodded slightly. Interesting.

'Indeed,' Dumbledore said gravely. 'These are the children?' he asked surveying the three on the
couch, all looking at the bright and flamboyantly violet figure of Dumbledore with something akin
to fear. Sirius smiled as he saw Rabastan's trademark wary frown on his eldest daughter's face.

'Yes,' Pollux confirmed, 'their mother Loretta is upstairs. Rabastan can stay here while he heals –
we can keep that room secure – but I thought it best to get the others somewhere safe tonight. The
Death Eaters have already taken my grandson, and they are suspicious of Rabastan's role in Sirius's
escape – I do not wish them to have any more reason to attack our home.'

Dumbledore nodded, 'Sirius's friend Mr Lupin and a few others are setting up a house for them as
we speak; I can take the Lestranges there in an hour – they will be safe.

'Very good. Thank you. I will go and tell Loretta,' Pollux said, before sweeping from the room.

'Sirius, I was very impressed to learn of your escape,' Dumbledore said quietly now that they were
nearly alone 'how ever did you manage it? Remus was very tight lipped on the subject.'
Sirius grinned and shrugged, 'you know me Dumbledore, I'm a clever pup.'

Dumbledore chuckled 'Apparently so. I swear you boys have more secrets in your little group than
Hogwarts herself possesses – the cloak for example – I can't believe you managed to keep that to
yourselves for so long! It's quite magnificent.'

'And dead useful.' Sirius agreed with a nod, 'we would have starved many an evening without it.'

Dumbledore smiled appreciatively. 'Yes, the priorities of a teenage stomach can be quite
demanding if I remember correctly.'

'Er … Professor what happened to your head?' Sirius asked looking at the lump that had been
slowly becoming more and more red since the headmaster's arrival. 'It looks sore.'

'Hmm…' Dumbledore said raising a hand to feel the bump, 'yes, it is a bit painful. It seems the
house elf was not informed of my arrival, and he was quite adamant that one of my dubious
character should not be allowed to enter such an ancient and noble residence.'

'Kreacher did that?' Sirius asked, not quite sure if he'd get a scolding for the laughter he was
restraining.

'Yes,' Dumbledore said, with a contemplative nod 'let me see … how best to explain … perhaps,
"Sconed me with the frying pan" would be the best descriptor.' Sirius decided he would take the
scolding and laughed, as Dumbledore added ruefully, still feeling the egg, 'he's got quite a swing
for a little chap.'

A/N: Thank you as ever for all the comments/faves/follows you rule! (haha 90's slang is fun)

Thanks to Emily for all her hard work - Bloody amazing.

 A Textbook Attack

6 th October

On this Tuesday at lunchtime a very unusual sight was to be seen if one happened to be perusing
the dusty and usually unpopulated reference section of Flourish and Blotts.

A young man wearing jeans with tattered knees and a T-shirt that was far too faded to have
occurred naturally – as the list of concert dates on the back were only from six months ago – sat
cross legged on the wooden floor, his heavy-soled boots digging painfully into the underside of his
thighs each time he reached for a new tome from the shelf nearest him. While this sight may not
have been particularly out of the ordinary – book shops often having customers who liked to look
at books – it was a fact that Sirius Black had never, in his life, been one of those customers.

Sirius let out a huff of tedium that caused the dark hair hanging in his face to puff upwards like
antennae before falling directly back into his line of vision. He wondered briefly if he was getting
too old to have such annoying young man's hair – he was nearly twenty-two after all – but then the
dense print of the heavy book open in his lap convinced him that he would rather be looking at the
distracting strands than the boring printed waffle anyway.

'Bollocks! Heads up, Pads!' Remus called from what seemed like miles above him. Sirius looked up
to see a book the size of a paving stone hurtling down toward him. He leaned back and put out an
arm in an effort to catch or block the missile, but instead the leather-bound meteor hit him in the
stomach and he collapsed onto his back on the dusty floor. Without any breath left in him to swear
at his friend – who was perched at the top of a ladder and sniggering – Sirius made a wordless
hand gesture that got the point across anyway.

'Sorry,' Remus said as he began to climb back down to earth, 'it slipped.'

He might have a point, Sirius realised. The werewolf had at least four other equally-large books on
his person, pinned to his side by his elbow or clutched in the hand that wasn't holding onto the
ladder in an effort to keep him from plummeting from the sky too.

'Clumsy wanker,' Sirius said, all biting tone removed as his voice wheezed from him.

'Sorry,' he reiterated, adding the "to be read" books he carried to the pile to Sirius's right, a stack he
referred to as the "yet more mind-numbing boredom pile". Then Remus leaned over and hefted the
kamikaze volume from where it still rested – bathing in glory at its successful suicide mission no
doubt – on Sirius's stomach.

'Bollocks,' Remus said again. Casting around to see if there was anyone about, he pulled out his
wand and reattached the cover that had come loose on impact.

'Moony,' Sirius said, hauling himself into a sitting position once more, 'this is pointless. We're
never going to find anything this way. The shop owner has already been by twice, I think he thinks
we're stealing – he didn't look happy.'

Remus put the repaired book on the tedium-tower, a stack that nearly reached Sirius's shoulder.
'That's only because he didn't see me up there,' he said, gesturing with his chin toward the lofty
heights of the ladder. 'He still remembers you – our fourth year wasn't that long ago to a shop
owner. You and Prongs will probably never be allowed in here unless you're with me.'

Sirius frowned. 'Yes, even though it was your fault he hated us in the first place.'

Remus shook his head at the old argument. 'You know that's not true. I wish you'd stop saying it.'

'Moony. You forced us to come along and look at books – we were perfectly happy at Gambol's.
What were we meant to do?'

Remus rolled his eyes as he sat down on the floor next to Sirius and opened one of the surrounding
boredom inducers. 'Duh, Pads, I don't know … not turn the cookery section to marshmallow,
maybe? Poor bloke reckons he still has ants.'

'Yeah well … moving on,' Sirius said dismissively, 'this is hopeless. How do you read this muck?
It's all "the vendor" this and "shall be hereafter known as the applicant" that, total indecipherable
rubbish.'

'It's law Pads, of course it's indecipherable rubbish – that's the whole point. If anyone could read it
then we wouldn't need solicitors. And just an hour ago you were absolutely determined, you said it
was for a good cause … the woman you, er … like and all that.'

Along with finding a way to trick the system so Hermione could stay, Sirius had made a new
resolution: now that he knew she didn't just want to mess around until she left, he had decided that
all the "ignore it she's leaving" rubbish could sod off - and if he couldn't overcome her lack of
identity he still thought three weeks was better than nothing at all.

'I know, but honestly do you think this is the way to go about it? Immigration?' Sirius asked,
flopping back horizontal again with a sigh of defeat at this current "keep her here" plan, and
smacking his head painfully on the unexpectedly solid wooden floorboards.

'It was your idea!' Remus said indignantly.

'I know but … Merlin I didn't think it would be so complicated,' he complained, rubbing the back
of his head.

He could hear the sarcasm in Remus's voice as he replied 'You didn't think organising someone's
immigration from the future would be complicated?' There was a sharp whack to his shin bone
from one of the hardbound truncheons.

'Fuck, Moony,' he grumbled clutching at his leg. 'Not from the future, just from some country with
easily-forged birth certificates. It was supposed to be easy to make her a British citizen and it
wouldn't matter that there's no early record of her because there isn't supposed to be. But all this
crap – it's like they don't want anyone to move here.'

'You mean to tell me,' Remus glared at him, 'that I've been researching this shite for days and you
don't think it's a good idea anymore? God you're a knob.' he added as he hit Sirius with the book
again.

'Ouch, quit it would you?' Sirius said, picking up a textbook to launch his own attack, and cracking
the spine down hard on Remus's knuckles. 'Moody's going to be grouchy enough that I'm having a
long lunch, without me coming back winded, concussed and limping … though maybe he'll think
I've been out doing something brave and heroic – '

'Not likely Black,' growled a voice from behind Sirius, as he was once again attacked with a blunt
object. This time it was Moody's cane coming into brief but painful contact with his shoulder blade.

'For fuck's sake!' Sirius exclaimed, having had quite enough of being beaten for one afternoon,
before realising that cursing at one's boss was not a partially wise move, especially when said boss
was a crotchety older gent with a distinct dislike of the curser.

How on earth did Moody continually sneak up on him? Sirius had been developing an idea that
Moody was actually a figment of his imagination able to pop out of the ground and distribute cane
whackings with no warning whatsoever; or perhaps he was a ghost, a suspiciously opaque and
violent one sent to haunt Sirius until he finally succumbed to the fright, or more likely the
bludgeoning.

'Watch it Black,' Moody said. 'So this is "important other mission stuff" that you need an extra hour
for, is it?'

'Er … yes,' Sirius said, 'we were … '

'Immigration law?' Moody asked doubtfully looking at the mountain of books. 'What does that
have to do with …' then his eyes narrowed as he turned his suspicious glare on Sirius.'Merlin
Black, this better not be what it looks like.'

'Er … what does it look like?'

'An irresponsible dolt meddling in things he shouldn't be – just because that girl puts up with you
doesn't give you the right to mess around with this nonsense.' Sirius felt the heat in his cheeks as he
mentally cursed Moody for being so damn quick. 'Dumbledore will go off his rocker if he finds out
what you two are up to.'

'We're just looking into it Moody,' Remus piped up, all innocence and wide eyes, 'obviously Sirius
would never spend time in here by choice, I dragged him along, I just wondered if it could be done
– you know in theory – also it's good to know the ins and outs of the law, it will help us stop the
Death Eaters smuggling people in on false documentation. I read a paper on the loop-holes of
portkey authorisation last week, and became concerned that it's maybe how Voldemort is keeping
his ranks so full when we are constantly thinning them –'

Sirius grinned to himself as he recognised the signs of Remus winding up into classic distraction-to
get-out-of-trouble mode. He snagged his Ministry robes from where he'd shucked them off earlier,
and slid them back over his shoulders, ready to go.

Remus had fondly named the technique "Distract with Facts" in their fourth year, and by the time
they reached sixth all it took was a quick mouthing of "D. F." from James or Sirius and Remus
would careen off down a path of mostly relevant, seemingly unending information to stun whoever
had caught them. Ideally, the catcher would be so taken aback by the flood of well-expressed ideas
–which could apparently go on forever once Remus started quoting from text books – that with no
end to the lecture in sight the Professor, Filch or shopkeeper would let the boys leave, often
without punishment, just to put a stop to it.

'– It made me wonder how many foreign wizards are involved,' Remus said earnestly, 'and if we
should look at re-writing some of the clauses – in section five for instance, it says that a traveller
must only present himself to the Ministry after two days on British soil, unless he plans to accrue
wealth greater than one thousand galleons during his stay; however in the case that his stay is
longer than the allowed thirty days for tourism he must then … '

Sirius just about lost control completely - Moody's eyes had begun to glaze over as Remus
continued to recite the wizarding immigration statute. He didn't think he'd ever been as grateful for
Moony's Magical Memory as in that moment.

Moody's gnarled hand seized Sirius's collar and dragged him to his feet. 'Right Lupin,' the older
Auror said, cutting through the onslaught of information, 'that's very useful. But I'd rather you
didn't keep Black from his work – I can't see how he'd be much help on something like this
anyway.'

Remus smiled smugly, knowing he'd just gotten Sirius out of trouble. 'It's not so much for the
actual research Moody,' he said brightly, 'but he's quite strong – useful for carrying books and such.
I'm sorry for interfering with your staff. Let me know if you have any questions on this – it's a very
concerning development, did you know that in the notes on clause thirteen-C there are mentions of
–'

'Merlin boy,' Moody growled, 'enough!' One look from the Auror's wide, slightly panicked eyes
had Sirius biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile hidden. 'Come on then Black, let's go.'

As Moody stumped alongside Sirius on their way back down Diagon Alley he grumbled, 'I was
going to give you some tedious assignment for skiving off, but I think spending your lunch break
in the company of that is punishment enough.'

'I'll say,' Sirius agreed, unable to believe his luck that they had gotten away with it.

'So it wasn't to do with the girl then?'

Or not. 'Not really Moody. She's pretty worried about the future she's going back to; I wondered if
she would be better off staying here. But that's neither here nor there,' he said with what he thought
was masterful indifference.

Moody gave him a side long look, 'Neither here nor there? Nice try kiddo, but I'm not blind - I saw
that look on your stupid mug.'

'Er … what look? You always say I look stupid, how do you tell the difference?'

Moody gave him a sharp tap to the knee cap with his walking stick. 'That look – the one of a
foolish little love struck nonce not thinking about the big picture.'

Sirius swallowed nervously. There was just something about Moody that scared him - he never had
the response he wanted ready, unless he was prepared in advance like when he was called into the
Head Aurors office, or was actually not feeling guilty about something, a state which was almost
non-existent. Maybe it was because Moody was the opaque ghost of a stealthy peg-legged ninja.
That would scare anyone.

'Well?' Moody pressed as they waited for the brick archway into the Leaky Cauldron to open.

'Not really Moody,' Sirius said again, going for a nonchalant shrug that came off more like a
nervous twitch. 'Remus was right, it was just out of curiosity really, you know - only twenty five
days to go now, so I doubt we'd have time to get it right anyway.'

'Alright,' Moody said surprising Sirius by dropping the subject, 'so when we get back you need to
have a sit with Longbottom, he and Robbards have found a pattern - repeated thievery out in
Suffolk, all magic stuff. He wants your input since you've been doing all the cartography.'

Sirius swallowed again – he may have had maps laid out on his desk for the last month but he was
jiggered if he knew what Suffolk had to do with any of it … or what any of them had to do with
anything at all really. While he had managed to get a hold on his daydreaming since the drunken
night of spewy gittishness, and reined it in even more since actually making some decisions during
his captivity over the weekend, there were still considerable blocks of time in his work day that
seemed to have been literally stolen from him … maybe he should get an alarm …

'Black!' Moody growled, 'are you listening?'

Sirius jumped 'Y –yes, Longbottom and the map. Got it.'

'No, after that – the department heads meeting – you're to come along and take minutes. You've got
a lovely high-born hand, perfect for note taking.' Moody gave him an odd look, which Sirius
recognised after a moment as the creepy smile again. This was not a good sign.

'I thought you said I'd had my punishment … Remus and the rambling …?' Sirius said hopefully.

'I lied,' Moody said, the unsettling smile widening further.

Hermione had spent her Tuesday afternoon sorting the books she had accumulated from Remus's
regular drop-offs. The collection had massed out of control recently – first when the task pressure
was off after Sirius had managed to secure Hufflepuff's cup, and then even more so when she was
home alone after the disaster of a party. Because she had spent so much time reading, Remus could
barely keep up with demand, and as much as she enjoyed being surrounded by the lovely printed
word, she felt that with Hallowe'en approaching so quickly it was time to give some of them back.
She also had run out of places to keep the books; the stack at the base of the arm chair that still
held her tower of research, was kept hidden as always from the housekeeping staffers' eyes, but
there was only so much territory a concealment charm could cover.

She had become sidetracked from sorting however, when she reached Remus's battered copy of
Hogwarts, a History and discovered something very odd as she flicked through. Being that it was
one of her favourite books to read when she was feeling nostalgic or worried, and the familiar
pages brought back the feeling of the first time she had opened it at the age of eleven, she knew it
almost word for word. Hermione hadn't brought her own copy because she'd already had thirty
reference books that she couldn't be without, and bedtime reading wasn't high on the list of
priorities.

Remus's version was very old, dog eared and dirty, printed in the late fifties - but the strange thing
was, it contained misprints. Only very small things she would probably be the only one ever to
notice, but it made her wonder if it was her edition or this one that was incorrect. In Remus's
version Phineas Nigellus had been headmaster from 1911 to 1919 but she was sure he'd only had a
four year run in the top job. It also said that only two of the Triwizard judges, not all three, were
killed by a Cockatrice during the 1792 Tournament. Checking the inside cover for the name of the
publishing house, she noticed that this one had been printed in Manchester while hers was from
London; perhaps the new publishers had issues with their first run? She knew the book wasn't
completely reliable; it had always irked her that there was no mention of the house-elves, without
whom the castle wouldn't run at all.

Earlier in the day, before Hermione had started her book organisation, she had been putting the
final touches on the box she was going to transport the Horcruxes in to their cremation. It was an
ordinary dark wood container with brass hinges and latch, only about four inches square; she had
used an undetectable extension charm on it so that it would be big enough for the locket, cup, diary
and diadem. The little wooden box radiated evil with all four objects inside it - the feeling it gave
her as she held it was almost like nausea.
Hermione was very wary of holding it for too long, remembering the way the locket had affected
Ron; she could see how it had happened now, something she hadn't understood at the time, but the
box resting on her palm made her feel cold, alone, and uncertain about everything, much worse
than it had ever been for her during that desperate camping trip.

There was a parallel to be drawn, she realised as she looked at the thing. Ron had said he was
feeling disenchanted anyway but the locket made it worse; she was uncertain about every move at
the moment, her huge anticipation at the thought of the fire tempered with worry that something
would go wrong, her anxiety that the ambush would not go to plan barely kept under control by the
fact that it was Dumbledore so all would be fine, and lastly her uncertainty over Sirius and her
decision to return to the future. She had meant what she said to him the morning of his escape, that
if there were a way for her to have a life here she would stay.

But she knew there wasn't. It hadn't been a lie - it had been an empty promise. Sirius was the sort of
man that needed hope, whether for romance or friendship didn't matter, and she needed a hopeful
Sirius at the moment. He was visiting her every night again now, the new task of finding a way for
her to stay driving him along, buoying him up. He never spoke of it to her, though - something she
was glad of, because she was finding the idea more agreeable every day, didn't want to talk about
how impossibly unlikely it was.

She didn't want to let herself fall into the trap of believing as Sirius did that he would pull some
amazing solution out of the air, because it would be heart-breaking when he didn't. Still, she would
often let herself forget that if she lived here she would be hunted by the remaining death eaters,
that she would have to live a life entirely dependent on Sirius's wealth, and that she would never be
able to fulfil her personal goals of change within the wizarding community.

It was selfish to forget these things. But she did. Imagining how it would be to be friends with
Remus and Lily – two souls quite similar to her own, something she had never had in friendship
before; and with James who was like a posh Harry. Then there was little Harry himself; even if
everything did go wrong with the ambush she could – if she stayed – play muggle and befriend
Petunia somehow and make Harry's life better... though if the ambush went wrong Sirius would go
to Azkaban and she would have no way to support herself. She guessed she could forge a national
insurance number and get a job as a muggle; the funds that she hadn't touched since checking in at
the hotel would feed her for long enough to find work somewhere. But really the reason she
wanted to stay was the infectious Sirius, so what would be the point if he was locked up? Unless
she hunted down Pettigrew at the Weasleys…

A loud rapping on the glass door caused her to start, and the little Horcrux box tumbled from her
hand. She really needed to stop touching it. It made her think ridiculous things.

Sirius was standing at the door, his hands cupped either side of his face as he pressed up against the
window pane to look inside - her mind had wandered as the sun set and the room was nearly dark.
She switched on the table lamp and bent to pick up the little box, putting it next to the telephone on
the bench as she went to let Sirius in.

'Luna Lovegood lacks legitimate logic,' she said through the door.

He looked surprised at the unfamiliar name but grinned before he said, 'Frederica Fehr's flagrant
flirting flusters furtively-furry friends.'

'Oi, that's my Mum you're talking about.' Hermione said giggling, her heavy, introspective mood
lifting at the sight of him - and the lack of most of Voldemort's soul clutched in her hand probably
helped too. 'You're getting too good at these, one would think you just sit around dreaming all day
coming up with new ones,' she said as she opened the door, before heading to boil the kettle.
Sirius gave her a guilty smile as he took off his jacket. 'I do,' he laughed as he plonked down onto
the couch in his usual limbs-made-of-rubber style. From where she stood in the kitchen, she could
only see his booted feet hanging over the arm. 'You should see the minutes Moody made me take
at his stupid meeting this afternoon,' he continued, 'they're covered in words starting with F. That
will teach him to think twice – making a qualified Auror be secretary – it's so not on.'

'You're such a snob,' Hermione said as she refilled the tea tin with leaves and put the teapot on the
tray.

'And what?' he said as though it was obvious. 'I've got to say, he was quite unimpressed when I
called him my "Fastidious Fuhrer" but I didn't mean it as an insult. He didn't seem to understand,'
Sirius added in a tone of mock dejection.

'Christ!' Hermione said with an exasperated laugh. 'No wonder the Ministry is losing this war if
that's what their Aurors do at work all day.'

'To be fair though,' he said, poking his head up from the other side of the sofa to look at her, 'I
wouldn't have been last time round would I? Probably worked my arse off!'

Hermione made a sceptical noise in the back of her throat, 'I'm sure working very hard would be a
core of your character if I weren't around,' she said. 'So how's the family?' He'd told her he was
going to look in on them on his way home; by the healer's schedule, Rabastan was supposed to
have recovered yesterday.

'Good, although Rab's still in bed; Bethnal says it's nothing to worry about, some people take a
couple of days to come right. He was awake today – still looks green as anything, he's not really
himself. Grandfather brought his chess set up to the room; Rab said he didn't know chess was so
dull without whiskey.'

'I didn't think it would ever be boring with those chessmen – they take it pretty seriously,'
Hermione said, remembering the battle cries of the little figures in the library at Grimmauld Place,
as she joined Sirius in the sitting room with tea tray in hand.

Sirius chuckled, 'They really do – a bit too much.' He grabbed a biscuit from the plate and lay back
on the sofa again, munching away. 'Moony went to check on Loretta and the kids this afternoon,
I'm seeing him at lunch tomorrow so he'll tell me how they are then,' he said through his mouthful.

'Oh good,' Hermione said, 'Do you really think Rabastan will be ok? The healer said twenty-four
hours on Sunday. It's nearly twice that now. '

'Yeah, I should think so. He's having a check-up tomorrow so we'll know then I suppose. Speaking
of bruised people, do you have any of that stuff from the joke shop?' he asked, sitting upright and
resting his boot on the edge of the coffee table. He rolled up the leg of his jeans to the knee; there
was a dark line across his shin bone.

'I'd rather save it for real injures,' Hermione said, leaning over from her chair to poke firmly at the
mark.

Sirius batted her hand away. 'Don't, it's sore – Moony beat me up.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, pressed the bruise once last time, and said, 'God you're a
wimp.'

'I get attacked by a werewolf and you call me a wimp? You're impossible to impress,' Sirius
muttered indignantly.
'You're impressive most of the time, just not when you're whining – what did he beat you up with?'
she asked, pouring tea for herself before pushing the tray across the table toward him

'A book heavy enough to sink a ship,' he said, looking for all the world like it was the most awful
thing to happen to anybody, ever.

Hermione scoffed, 'Now I know you're lying – Remus would never do that.'

'He did,' Sirius insisted, 'with no regard to my personal well-being whatsoever.'

'Oh no, of course he would hit you,' Hermione assured him, 'who wouldn't? I just know that Remus
would never risk damaging a book.'

'Pfft, shows what you know,' he said flicking his hand at her as though she was some bothersome
gnat as he made his tea, then suddenly he looked up at her and smirked. 'I'm impressive, am I?'

Damn it, she'd thought he'd missed that. 'Yes,' she said with an embarrassed smile, 'Shut up.'

'You know.…' Sirius said slowly, his smirk growing more wicked by the second, 'you really
shouldn't say things like that when I'm about to sleep next to you – it could cause overconfidence.'

Hermione was surprised - this was the second blatant innuendo since Sunday. She wasn't sure what
had brought about the change, but it seemed he had gotten over his complex about her lack of
consideration for his emotional state, not that he'd ever admit it.

7 th October

'So Ideas Man, what do you have for me now?' Remus asked in a resigned tone as he and Sirius sat
at a small table in the Leaky Cauldron waiting for their lunch.

Sirius looked up from his Butterbeer and said distractedly, 'Nothing new … yet.'

'Really?' Remus asked sceptically. He couldn't quite believe that in a whole twenty-four hour
period, his insane friend hadn't come up with a new hair-brained scheme.

'Really,' Sirius confirmed, and moved on. 'I got a letter from Grandfather this morning - Rab's
recovery isn't going as they hoped.'

'Why not?' Remus asked. He wasn't sure how to react to Sirius's worry over Lestrange – Remus had
thought it was a friendship of convenience, but when it didn't end after the Gringotts success he
he'd begun to feel uneasy about it. Then the Death Eating coward had got Sirius tortured and
Hermione nearly captured and the whole conspiracy to kill Voldemort could have fallen apart. He
was sure Sirius would never speak to Lestrange again after such traitorous actions but there Sirius
sat, fretting about the man who had nearly ruined everything.

'They don't know,' Sirius said, his fingers drumming on the table top. 'The tincture isn't working
properly; Bethnal is an expert in potions but it's got him flummoxed.'

'Well I'm sure they'll figure something out.' Remus tried to sound reassuring, but with yesterday's
visit to the bigoted Loretta Lestrange still fresh in his mind he found it difficult. 'Lestrange is
probably just hamming it up to have a holiday away from his nasty wife,' he added.

'Nasty? She seemed fine to me … Rab does complain about her a lot though, perhaps you're right.'
'Of course she nice to you Pads, you're not a dirty halfblood. I really want to tell her about my other
problem – she'd probably kill me on the spot, but it would be worth it to see the look on her face.'

Tom the barman arrived at their table with two plates piled high with steak and chips, 'Here you are
lads,' he said, smiling his toothless smile.

'Thanks Tom,' Sirius said, 'looks great.' Tom gave a little tip of his head and returned to the bar. 'Is
Letty really rude?' Sirius asked as they began to eat. 'I've only met her twice, once at the Gala and
then on Sunday evening - she's a bit lofty at first but she didn't seem so bad Sunday.'

'Padfoot….' Remus said slowly, and quite concerned, 'you should hear yourself, you sound just like
them.' Sirius's voice had taken on a distinctly upper-class tone as he spoke of Lestrange and his
wife.

At Hogwarts, Sirius had gone to considerable effort to force the sound of his upbringing from his
speech. James – who had it too, though not as strong – had teased his best friend endlessly as Sirius
lay on his four poster in the dormitory, repeating phrases like "alright mate" and "that's total
bollocks" over and over again with different inflections. Remus had not teased him, largely out of
jealousy over the cultured way Sirius and James spoke, because try as he might he could never
quite rid his own voice of his west country childhood. Hearing the formerly-hated poshness back in
Sirius's speech with no air of sarcasm, was very unsettling.

'Fuck off,' Sirius said with a chuckle, 'it's just habit, old Wally gives me enough grief without
handing her more ammunition.'

'Oh right,' Remus said, concentrating on his food, 'well anyway, Loretta is just a pain; the Order are
keeping her family safe and all she can do is complain, she talks to me like a servant. I'm going to
ask Dumbledore if Fabian can take over - she won't be so rude to him, he's her cousin.'

'On which side?' Sirius asked confused, 'He's mine, through Father's sister; I didn't know Letty was
too.'

Remus snickered, 'Really Pads … Which side? Both I'd say – in multiple ways. Gross pureblood
inbreeding. No wonder you're dying out.'

Sirius laughed again, 'Merlin! I know, but I won't have that problem. Things are looking up,
Moony my friend.'

'Hmm,' Remus said through his mouthful. He wished Sirius wouldn't be so sure; it was going to be
a disaster if they failed, he'd never seen his friend with a broken heart and he was quite keen not to
have to deal with it. 'They might not be, not unless we can sort out this leaving stuff.'

'We will.' Sirius said pointing a chip at him sternly. 'She wants to stay. So she's going to stay. I
have decided. I always get what I want, Moony, you know that.'

Remus grinned in spite of his worry - Sirius had a point. 'Indeed I do Pads, indeed I do. So you and
Hermione really are all good again then?'

'Yeah, normal - well actually a bit better than normal,' he said smugly.

Remus gave him a look – this was new. 'Why better than normal?'

Sirius shrugged. 'Nothing really, just a general softening to my charming ways. She told me I'm
impressive,' he added with a grin.
'Impressive that you manage to dress yourself perhaps,' Remus muttered, shaking his head at the
daft look on his friends face.

'Ha! No, and she meant it. I think she really does want to stay …' Sirius said, looking thoughtfully
at his plate of hardly-touched food.

'I would bloody hope so!' Remus exclaimed. 'After the crap I've been immersed in all week, she'd
better appreciate it.' He paused. 'So … your charming ways? Does that mean what it normally
means?'

Sirius shrugged 'Sort of, I guess, just not keeping it hidden anymore … if the situation presented
itself, well…'

'That is definitely not what it normally means Pads,' he said laughing again '"if the situation
presented itself?" – the interpretation for your "charming ways" has always been unstoppable
flirting until you've got her backed into a corner for a snog. Not gentlemanly at all.'

'You heard Prongs the other day,' Sirius said proudly, 'I'm growing up … showing restraint,
etcetera etcetera.'

Remus almost choked on his steak - Padfoot with restraint? 'What did you turn the shelves in
Flourish and Blotts into?' he asked sharply.

'Marshmallow,' Sirius answered bewildered, 'why?'

'Just checking,' Remus said. God, if they couldn't find a way to keep Hermione here, it was going
to be a disaster.
 Arrested Development

8 th October

Hermione was a little sad as she looked at the books stacked on the dining table. It was Thursday
morning, and Remus would be arriving in an hour and a half for his weekly visit – something that
Hermione looked forward to all week – but today he would be taking most of the wonderful story
and history books away with him. It was something of a shock to her when she realised that after
today they only had three Thursdays left.

There was no point being sad about it, she told herself firmly as she put down her empty coffee cup
in resolution, deciding that moping was no excuse for still being in her pyjamas at 9.30 in the
morning. She got up from the table and successfully distracted herself for half an hour by having a
shower and getting dressed. She had even washed her hair in an effort to use up more time,
choosing to bear the hardship the freshly shampooed frizziness would cause her later for the
reward of extra tasks to keep her busy.

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, trying to decide if today was a shoe day or not; upon
stretching her legs out and wiggling her unconfined socked toes in the air in front of her she landed
on not; all the time spent inside was making her very lazy. She was dragging a wide comb through
her still dripping hair when there was a knock at the door to the corridor - probably housekeeping,
she thought, as they generally called at this time of day.

She rubbed her towel vigorously through her hair as she padded over to the seldom-opened door.
She stood on tiptoes to peer through the little spy hole and saw the distorted image of Annie the
cleaning girl, the same one that always serviced her room. She was friendly enough, often asking
what Hermione was up to that day; Hermione would always reply with a general "visiting friends"
or "going to have a look at the shops". The trolley beside the maid was armed with the usual
assortment of coffee and tea sachets, miniature shampoos and wrapped soap; a pile of neatly folded
linen stood next to her cleaning needs, spray bottles and polishing cloths all lined up in tidy rows.

The maid knocked again, a confused look on her face as she dug in the pocket of her apron for the
set of keys she carried; since the day Annie started as regular cleaner in June, Hermione had always
been there to let her in. Hermione smiled to herself; if Annie seemed confused now, she'd better lift
the security charm on the door before the maid tried the key and found it didn't work – that would
be confusing! Hermione had always been careful to leave the Do Not Disturb sign up if she was
going to be out of the room during servicing hours – back when she was allowed to leave that was.

She cancelled the charm and tucked her wand inside her cardigan before reaching for the
doorknob; she was glad the first cardigan she laid hands on this morning was one of two that she
had practiced on before adding concealed pockets to the inside of Sirius's Ministry robes in
preparation for cup removal.

'Good morning,' Hermione said cheerfully as she opened the door.

'Good Morning Miss Granger,' the maid said with a smile as she wheeled the trolley into the room.
Hermione returned the friendly expression as Annie headed briskly towards the bedroom as she
usually did, asking, 'So what are you doing with yourself today? It's a bit chilly out.'

Hermione said, 'You're right, an inside day I think,' as she watched Annie's efficient pace, she
wondered at first if she was so enthusiastic with such tasks at home, before thinking it was
probably like tradesmen - builders always lived with unfinished projects surrounding them,
hairdressers never spent time on their hair unless they had to. When something was your job all
week, you didn't want to do it in the weekend. Her dentist parents had excellent teeth, though, so it
would never do to generalise.

Annie pulled back the bed covers with a practiced ease, flipping and folding as she went. The
stacked linen from the trolley furled out across the mattress with a dextrous flick of her hands.
Hermione was a little jealous as she watched mesmerised; it was almost like a dance.

Then suddenly a sharp metallic clinking from behind her broke through Hermione's distracted state.
As she turned a gruff voice said, 'Hermione Granger, you are under arrest,' - a rough hand caught
her right wrist, bending it up at an unnatural angle - 'for identity theft, fraud and suspicion of
espionage.'

'What?' Hermione said incredulously as she tried to spin around, twisting her arm in the strong
grip. There was a cold slap of steel against her wrist, and that clinking sound again; her left hand
was scrabbling at an awkward angle for her wand where it was concealed in her cardigan.

'She's got a weapon!' another male voice said hastily from her right. How many of them were there?
Her left arm was seized and pulled sharply behind her back – her shoulder jerking painfully with
the speed and strength – and she felt the chilled metal on her left wrist. Handcuffs, she thought,
these people are muggles. Then a blunt blow to the back of her knees collapsed her legs beneath
her; she collided with one of the dining chairs, knocking the table and sending her organised books
tumbling everywhere as she was forcefully pushed face first into the floor.

'What the hell!' Hermione shouted, turning her head left and right trying to get a glimpse of her
assailant, her loose hair flopping into her eyes as she twisted about against the carpeting. She
struggled as hard as she could against the heavy weight pressing into her back. 'What's going on?
Let me go! Espionage? Let me up, this is ridiculous!' With her head turned to the side she could
see what was going on better; there were two men in her line of vision - uniformed police officers,
black trousers and white shirts with checked epaulets, peaked caps on their heads – with their
pistols drawn and pointing directly at her.

She stopped fighting abruptly. Her breathing becoming shallow; her mind was blank, she couldn't
think. Espionage? What on earth? These men were obviously muggles; Death Eaters wouldn't
bother with guns and handcuffs when wands and magically conjured ropes were far more efficient.

'Granger,' the man holding her said, 'You don't have to say anything, but it may harm your defence
if, when questioned, you fail to mention something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say
may be given in evidence.'

'It's clear,' came a female voice from the other side of the room. Hermione turned her head –
slowly as not to provoke more pistol pointery – and saw the maid standing in the doorway to the
bedroom, small gun in hand. Annie was a police officer? Hermione could hardly process this as she
felt a second pair of hands begin to pat her down. She was rolled to the side so the patter could
check her front - she held her breath as his hands ran over her concealed wand but he continued on.
Hermione let out a tiny sigh of relief; she would be able to get away at some point.

'Granger, where are the others?' her captor said roughly as he shook her slightly. 'Sirius Ogden and
Remus Moony.'

'Who are you?' She asked trying to keep her voice calm, how did they know?

'London C.I.D., the lads are Special Branch – where are your colleagues Granger?' he asked again
with more pressure to her back.
'I'm the only one here,' she said, 'really! Why are you doing this? I won't fight, please let me up.'

Hermione was hauled to her feet and she shook her head to clear the still wet hair from her face,
she was being held tightly from behind, and still couldn't see the man's face who'd tackled her, but
the other three men in uniform and the maid were in view now. She really needed to get her wand -
five quick stunners and a round of obliviate and it would be fine - but there were weapons pointing
at her from all sides.

Hermione smiled at the closest officer, a man not much older that herself. 'I'm sorry, but you've
made a mistake. I'm just here on holiday visiting old friends from school. My mother lives in New
York - please, I'm not a spy,' she said with what she hoped was a girlish giggle.

'Strange holiday missy, one where you never leave the hotel and speak in code,' said the C.I.D.
bloke from behind her, giving her arms little jerk. The younger Special Branch officer didn't speak,
his face determined as he held his gun steady.

'I don't …' Hermione was stumped … they were serious. She had to stall them - Remus would be
here soon, but would he be fast enough? If they saw him when he arrived, they could shoot him
before he had a chance to realise what was happening.

'Come along girlie,' the man holding her said and with a tug to her bound wrists and a heavy hand
on her shoulder he started to march her to the door, 'we're going on a little trip.'

Oh god, all her things! They would search the room, and even if they didn't find everything, it was
still going to be awful, magical things with the Muggles, what if the Ministry... Wait, these police
would not be the ones to conduct a search, there's a special team... they would just guard the door,
wouldn't they? The police wouldn't want anything disturbed from its place. How long would it take
for a search team to arrive? It wasn't like fraud was time sensitive, the police must have lots of
proper crimes like murder and kidnapping to keep them busy … if she could get away from them
fast enough she could come back disillusioned, or send Remus or something, and pack everything -
all her notes, the Horcruxes, her timeturner, everything was here.

Maybe it was best if she went with them, Hermione thought, they would have to un-cuff her at
some-point, then she would be able to apparate out of the police station. It would no doubt cause
quite a drama when a prisoner vanished – but she was hiding from the Death Eaters anyway – what
did it matter if she had to hide from the muggle police too? Then at least Remus would be safer
than if they all stayed here.

Hermione was forced out of her familiar hotel room and into the corridor; there were two more
officers dressed in black combat uniforms and helmets, one on either side of the door. Their guns
were much larger than the arresting officers' small pistols had been.

The lift ride down to reception was crowded, with one of the black-clothed, big-gunned men and
three of the police that had been in her room, including Annie the "cleaner". As the tight-marching
pack of five with Hermione in the centre crossed the lobby, she saw a group of hotel staff standing
together next to the manager's office. The snooty man who had checked her in all those months ago
was grinning smugly, his eyes following her. The Sirius-admirer Mark was watching too, though
his expression held shock and confusion. Hermione could understand why - he'd flirted with
someone now thought to be associated with a criminal.

She stumbled as the policeman walked her down the steps to the footpath outside. A Black Maria
was parked on the curb, along with two patrol cars with their lights flashing; rubber-necking
muggles were being held back by barricades and staring at the young woman with wet hair and no
shoes, handcuffed and being escorted by police.
Annie opened the back door of the van, the prisoner transport section bleakly lined with a benches
and grates, and Hermione was pushed inside; then, finally, as her handler turned her so she was
forced to sit on one of the benches, Hermione was able to see the man for the first time.

A large moustache, with a nose to match – close cropped wiry hair, he was tall and broad, no
wonder she hadn't been able to fight him off. He was a plain-clothes officer, or detective she
thought, C.I.D. he'd said. He wore a button down shirt and tie, dark trousers and shiny brown
leather shoes, all mostly covered by a tan trench coat that was so cliché Hermione almost smiled at
his bristly moustached face.

The door to the wagon slammed shut and the engine rumbled as they started to drive; the unwieldy
vehicle moved off the curb with a bump.

Hermione looked at the detective, 'Where are we going?' She asked politely, righting herself
awkwardly from the jolt of take-off. Her balance was affected by having her hands trapped behind
her back. She planted her feet firmly on the grilled steel floor to keep it from happening again.

'Round the corner to MI5 Granger, where do you think? They deal with your kind,' he said gruffly.

'Military Intelligence?' Hermione asked, her voice rising in panic, oh god this was more serious
than she thought. 'And why are we going there?'

'What did I just say?' Detective Moustache said brusquely, 'They deal with your kind.'

'And what is my kind?' Hermione asked not able to keep the fear from her voice. MI5 dealt with
domestic terrorism as far as she knew, not witches.

Detective Moustache leered at her, 'I would think you'd know.'

'I'm a twenty two year old student on holiday,' she said. 'please, this is a mistake'

'Like hell,' Moustache said, 'no student has a forged passport that good.'

'My passport?' she squeaked. 'It's not forged – I've had it for two years, I've been using it – I think
they would have noticed when I arrived in London if it was fake.'

'There's no record of you coming through Gatwick – even though you have an arrival stamp.' The
detective said smugly, 'We did our homework on you.'

Fuck. Damn nosey coppers. 'How do you know my friends' names?' she asked; she needed to find
out as much as she could before heading into an interrogation room.

'I expect the boys at Five will tell you that.'

'Why can't you tell me?' she asked, then narrowing her eyes she said shrewdly, 'Don't you know?'

His lip curled below the bristle broom, 'You've been under surveillance, like all KGB contacts.'

FUCK! the expletive echoed around her head, it seemed all she was capable of right then. The
sodding KGB? This had to be some kind of terrible joke, 'But I'm English, not Russian; I grew up
in Kensington.'

'I thought you said your mother lived in New York,' Detective Stache sneered at her.

'She does now; ask me anything, I'll prove I'm English.' Hermione said desperately.
'Being English doesn't mean you're not a spy – and we're here , so I'll let the big boys take care of
you,' he added as the wagon came to a halt. She slid a little on the metal bench with the sudden
stop, unsteady as she was with her hands still cuffed tightly behind her back.

The detective stood as the doors were opened, and Hermione was greeted by the sight of two burly
men in suits. 'Have a nice time Granger,' Moustache said ominously.

Remus appeared on Hermione's balcony at precisely eleven o'clock, just as he always did; he took
a moment to get his bearings on the little concrete ledge just as he always did, readjusting his
shoulder bag that had tried to strangle him during his brief apparition just as it always did. Damn
thing. But then as he raised his fist to knock on the glass doors, his habitual routine came
screeching to a halt.

Through the window he could see one of the dining chairs lying on its side on the carpet; there
were books scattered across the table and over the floor. He hastily cast a disillusionment charm on
himself and moved closer to the door; the sofa was on a strange angle but other than that the room
looked normal. Death Eaters he realised, they had found her. He wondered for a second how they
had gotten past her security charms when he knew that Sirius had been trying to break them for
months and still hadn't managed it.

Unless Hermione let them in… had they found out about the pass phrases and polyjuiced their way
in? It didn't seem likely, since the only people who knew where Hermione lived were Sirius and
himself, and he had just spoken to Sirius through the floo at the Ministry, making plans to discuss
Sirius's new idea for "keep her here" that evening.

Remus reached out and tried the door handle; he wasn't sure if he was panicked or relieved when
the door swung inwards – something was wrong but he could find out what. He quickly whispered
'Homenum Revelio' under his breath; he felt the spell wash over him as it spread, finding no one in
the room, but someone nearby.

Stepping over the scattered books he made his way toward the door to the corridor; with his eye
pressed to the peephole Remus could see the back of a man's head, weirdly disfigured by the bow
of the glass.

'Muffliato' Remus whispered, followed by 'Colloportus'; he looked out the peephole again as the
latch clicked magically locked. The man had his finger in his ear and was jiggling it about, no
doubt trying to rid it of the buzzing. Another man came into view – a muggle policeman - smiling
and talking to the ear jiggler. Muggles? Surely muggles would not be guarding the door if
Hermione had been taken by Death Eaters. He lifted the silencing charm to hear their voices, just
to make sure the Death Eaters had not decided to play dress up.

'No way mate, after this year's final Tottenham's got it in the bag,' the smiling officer said.

'You reckon?' asked the other man doubtfully 'Queens Rangers are on top form this season, I'd say
they'd give them a good go.'

'Didn't you see the Spurs against Man City? They're too good; Rangers don't stand a chance.' The
grinning officer argued happily.

Definitely muggles Remus thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Even if Death Eaters were in disguise
they would never talk about football – probably couldn't, it was practically talking in code.

Officer smiley was still talking. 'So do reckon you Five will get here before lunch to search the
place? I'm starving.'

'Yeah,' said the man with his back to the spy hole, 'Boss said they were just finishing up and they'd
be here by twelve, good thing too, bloody boring guarding a door.'

Feeling slightly less panicked now that he knew it was unlikely anyone would come into the room
until 'Five' – whoever they might be – arrived, Remus turned his attention to the next course of
action. What should he do? Hermione was gone and he didn't know how bad it was or where to
look, but all her things were here. He waved his wand casting the concealment detection spell.
Hermione's armchair filing system was there still, she wouldn't have left by choice without taking
her notes … he went into the bedroom, and opened the wardrobe, her clothes and cases were there
too. Remus came to a quick decision – all this stuff had to be kept away from the muggles.

Sirius would tease him no end for being so paranoid, if it turned out that nothing had gone wrong –
although he was very sure it had – but he would rather be teased than sorry so he began to pack
everything away.

Hermione's cases seemed bottomless, so Remus threw in her clothes hangers and all, followed by
the three pairs of shoes that were sitting at the bottom of the cupboard, all disappearing into the
depths.

Then he opened the drawers of her bedside table and felt himself blush as the sight of ladies under-
things was presented. Telling himself he was a sodding werewolf who could handle such dilemmas
as his friend's lacy knickers, he withdrew his wand and magicked the contents of the drawer into
the open luggage. The more of her possessions he moved inside her suitcases with his wand the
more he realised their depth. It occurred to him that he could probably fit the bed in, if he was of a
mind to, as he watched all of her toiletries fly from the bathroom. Christ, the woman must have a
year's supply of Sleek-eazys, he chuckled to himself as bottle after bottle of the hair potion dropped
inside, clinking against its fellows.

Magic was very useful when it came to packing up someone's life. He dragged the larger suitcase
into the sitting room and made a broad sweeping movement with his wand, causing the
disarranged books from the floor and table to join the rest of Hermione's belongings inside it. He
repeated the action in the direction of the Research tower and had to take a few hasty steps
backward as the folders, parchment and heavy books thumped into the case, sending it skidding
quickly across the floor towards Remus's shins. Within twenty minutes he had everything.

Remus was very glad he had checked for hidden things again because when he cast the spell in her
bedroom for a second time a dark leather bag came zooming out from under the bed; the werewolf
stooped to snatch it from the floor and tugged open the drawstring that was knotted at the neck.
Inside he could found a small wooden box and then - his heart jumped a little - Hermione's bronze
Timeturner.

The box felt disgusting against his fingertips; cold and diseased. He flicked the lid up with his
thumb and saw why: the magically-enlarged inside contained the largest collection of evil Remus
had ever seen – the power that radiated from within was overwhelming and repulsive. The
Horcruxes. He snapped the lid shut, dropped the box back into the pouch, pulled the draw cord
closed, and tucked the bag into his pocket, which was better, but still not distance enough. Then he
set to work shrinking Hermione's luggage, putting each of the three cases inside his shoulder bag as
he went. Remus gave the room one last sweep with the detection spell. Nothing.

Once out on the balcony again, Remus realised he didn't know what to do next. Hermione was
gone, or captured; Sirius would probably be more of a hindrance than a help if Remus went to him
with no plan and no idea where she was, or whether or not she was safe. Should he go to
Dumbledore? Maybe he should go home and floo Sirius at work after all, his friend would panic
though. It was probably best to have a bit more information before Remus told him.

As he stood there being blown about by the wind, a bright silver shape came swimming towards
him from the sky; it was an otter, he realised as the misty creature drew near. The playful animal
twisted about in the air as it began to speak. 'Remus, I'm safely hidden in the park of my childhood,
near Salazar's Art, come get me. ' Then, with one last turn of its body and flick of its sinuous sliver
tail, the otter dissolved in front of him.

Remus knew it was from Hermione; he'd seen her cheeky patronus before, but the park of her
childhood? Why was she speaking in code? His brain began to tick - she would have known he
would turn up at the hotel, she must have waited to contact him so he would have had time to
figure out something was wrong. But why so cryptic? Probably just being cautious … she was safe
in the park of her childhood … where had she been a child? London and Hogwarts. London hardly
narrowed it down – but if she was at Hogwarts she wouldn't need to be collected. Hermione
obviously had her wand so why wasn't she at Hogwarts? The Death Eaters might see her in
Hogsmeade, Remus reasoned - so she must be hiding somewhere muggle.

Salazar's art? God, she really thought far too highly of his code-breaking skills. The park of her
childhood … Kensington! She'd grown up in Kensington – he remembered from her notes – so she
was in Kensington gardens then … or did she mean park in Kensington? He would start with the
most obvious. Turning on the spot and holding tight to his extra heavy – and no doubt all the more
inclined to strangle him – shoulder bag, Remus left the balcony behind.

Appearing at the edge of Hyde Park in a little cluster of trees – because he didn't know the royal
gardens across the road well enough to be sure of cover – Remus looked around: there was a
channel of water to his left as he turned toward Kensington Palace; the road behind him rumbled
with slow moving traffic; he glanced at the street sign, "Serpentine road". Serpentine …
Slytherin…. Maybe, he thought.

Sighting an inconspicuous apparition point across the water, he disapparated again. This new
hiding place was almost the same at the first, with a smattering of undergrowth, a few bits of litter
that the grounds keepers missed because they were right in the centre of the clump of greenery, the
tall old trees, some probably hundreds of years old... He wondered for a moment how many years
this part of London had been a park; it was such an expansive area, how on earth was he going to
find Hermione, and what if she wasn't here after all? She might just be in some random corner
playground in Kensington … there weren't many of those, the area was fairly built up, Remus
thought. Salazar's Art? He almost smacked himself in the head for being so blind - The Serpentine
Gallery of course. He could even see the steepled roof half-hidden by trees from where he stood
concealed in the shrubbery; how had he not gotten that straight away?

He made his way out of his observation post, readjusting his bag. The strap was cutting into his
shoulder; Hermione's extension charms took away most of the interior weight, but he was still
carrying all her luggage. His shoulder would just have to deal for a little longer. Crossing the
beautifully-kept green lawn in the direction of the gallery, he was alert for anything unusual, but
the royal gardens were quite deserted - not surprising being that it was a weekday morning and
rather nippy.

Remus approached the art gallery cautiously; this situation was so bizarre his mind had yet to
process it. Why on earth Hermione would be hiding in a park, after having deserted her hotel with
its muggle policeman guard, and sending him weird messages by magic to come and pick her up
when she was supposed to be staying inside at all times, and could apparate where ever she needed
to go in any case – he just couldn't get his head around it.
'Remus,' someone hissed as he passed the back entrance to the gallery. He spun on his heel, and
drew his wand, looking in the direction the whispering had come from.

'Remus!' It definitely sounded like Hermione's voice; then there was a rustling amongst the bushes
surrounding the base of the building, and the wall seemed to distort slightly.

'Hermione?' He asked quietly, recognising the signs of a disillusioned body moving in front of
stone.

'Yes,' her voice said.

Remus moved closer, his wand pointing directly at the blurry shape, 'What year did you meet me
for the first time?'

'1993,' she said quietly, her own wand raised, 'What does Sirius call me that involves you?'

Remus grinned, the pressure on his breathing lifting for the first time since he arrived on her
balcony. 'Either the female Moony or my long-lost daughter – depending on how annoying he
wants to be,' Remus replied, smiling with relief as he moved closer to her. 'What happened
Hermione? There are muggle police at your room – I got all your stuff, but shit!' Suddenly the
concern he had felt came rushing back to him, and his words were harsher than he meant them to
be, 'What the hell? Why didn't you just stun them?'

'They snuck up on me,' Hermione said softly, sounding ashamed. 'They think I'm a spy for the
KGB.'

'What? The KGB? ' He asked, his annoyance dissipating; he almost laughed at the absurdity of the
statement.

'I know, that's what I said - were you able to get everything? The Horcruxes? They were under the
bed.'

'Yes, I got everything, notes, timeturner, it's all in here,' he patted his heavy bag, 'so don't worry, it's
fine.'

'Remus, what am I going to do?' Her voice was high and worried. He'd only seen her so panicked
on the night Sirius was taken, but this seemed different - she sounded young and very frightened.

'Right,' he said, 'don't stress.' This was the most insane thing he had ever heard, and he had been
friends with James Potter and Sirius Black for a decade. Remus flipped the flap open on his bag
open and withdrew his cloak. 'Put this on, I'll send Padfoot a message, he can come as let us into
his place – I'd take you to mine but I don't fancy the walk in with all your stuff, it might be small
but it weighs a ton.

Hermione smiled, lifting the disillusionment charm now that her head was covered by the hood of
Remus's cloak. 'Thank you so much,' she said. 'This has been a real disaster; I didn't know where to
go that would be safe, so I hid. My mind just went blank.'

Remus looked at her - her expression was so forlorn, he tried to lighten the mood, 'You're lucky
Padfoot didn't hear you say that. He might have fainted.'

It worked – she smiled and said ruefully, 'I think I'd rather him faint than find out how stupid I
really am.'
'Black!' Moody's voice barked out across the open offices of the Auror department, 'My office
now!'

Sirius exhaled heavily - he'd done nothing wrong, he was sure of it. Well, nothing new wrong
anyway. He stood up from his desk, preparing to face another verbal and possibly physical assault,
to see Frank Longbottom peering – as he so often did – over the cubical wall.

'What now?' Frank asked.

'Buggered if I know,' Sirius said with a shrug. 'I think Moody just gets lonely, and likes to shout at
people,' Sirius pointed at himself, 'apparently I fill the requirements.'

Frank gave him a grin and shook his head, 'Thanks Black, it's good to have you around to keep him
entertained. I've only been told off once since you qualified - well, once alone, I can't count the
number of times Moody's aura of discontent with you has stretched to include me, but it's never as
bad.'

'My pleasure, Longbottom,' Sirius said grumpily as he slouched off towards the head Auror's
office.

'Shut the door Black,' Moody said the minute Sirius had entered. He always did that Sirius thought,
told him to shut the door, like he wasn't going to, of course he was going to shut it, he just had to
get into the bloody room first.

'Moody old man, whatever is it I didn't do it,' Sirius said, casually plonking himself in a chair,
determined to not let the old Auror get the better of him today. 'Maybe you should ask around
before pointing the cane of blame.'

Moody glowered at him. 'Mouthy sod, I like you much better when I surprise you.'

Sirius grinned to himself, it was very true, 'Yes well, you didn't – so what am I being accused of
this time?'

'Nothing.' Moody said.

Sirius's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. 'Really?' he asked, disbelievingly.

'Yes, I just received a very strange message from Lupin.'

'Why would he contact you?' Sirius asked. He'd spoken to Remus that morning through the Floo -
what had happened?

Moody glared. 'I don't know, do I? That's what you're going to tell me.'

'Well then, what was the message?' Sirius asked impatiently.

Moody gave him a resigned look and quoted, 'I'm with my long-lost daughter, she has been evicted
and the bloke down the hall has more safety pins in his face than the whole of Madam Malkin's
shop.'

Sirius sorted, 'What?' He couldn't stop the laughter.

Moody was not impressed. 'It's code Black, his patronus spewed it at me. Those things are meant to
be friendly but his wolf is an angry blighter.'

Suddenly the meaning of the message set in. Sirius jumped to his feet 'Er … Moody I have to go,
he's talking about Hermione. Something must have happened to her.' She must be okay, though, he
told himself, Remus wouldn't send odd messages to Moody if she was hurt, he would have gone to
Dumbledore or come to the Ministry himself.

'Merlin, you lot are nothing but trouble,' Moody said. 'It's lunch time anyway - don't be gone too
long or the others will start to notice the special treatment you get.'

'Really Moody? They'll just think you've sent me down to the DMLE to deal with their boring
rubbish as punishment for my insubordinate behaviour, so don't worry.' Sirius didn't stay to hear
his boss's grumbled reply, instead hurrying from the room at top speed leaving the door wide open
in a final show of defiance.

Okay, he thought, Remus was with Hermione, at Sirius's flat, because she had been evicted. What
in the name of merlin was going on? Moony was with her - she was safe then, that was all that
really mattered. He smiled at the reference to his neighbour, who Sirius fondly referred to as
"Staple-face" normally - muggles were so weird.
 Above the Pie Shop

8th October

After receiving Remus's message, Sirius left the Ministry as quickly as he could, and was only
waylaid momentarily at the lifts in the atrium. A pair of concerned looking trainee Aurors wanted
his advice on how to break the news to Moody that they had lost their last weeks worth of reports -
they mentioned a confusing situation involving a suspected associate of some low ranking Death
Eater, a fire-breathing goat and a very angry muggle farmer, or something like that. Sirius brushed
them off and headed to the street exit, calling over his shoulder, 'Redo the reports and don't bloody
tell him if you like your kneecaps the way they are!'

He apparated into the alley beside his building and hurried around the corner to the artfully-
graffitied door that was set between two muggle shops – one was an odd place that stunk of incense
and sold dated tie-dye junk, and the other was the pie shop that Sirius lived above. He looked
around briefly; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, not that his neighbourhood could ever really be
described as ordinary anyway.

Sirius had been charmed by this part of London since he was sixteen. He had visited it with James
to "do something muggle" as a celebration of his permanent freedom from the oppressive Grim Old
Place; the muggles here seemed to be around all the time, day or night, and they had looked quite
scary to the teenagers. The intimidation factor of the locals came in the form of multiple facial
piercings and giant, dangerously colourful spikey hair, not to mention their mismatched clothing
that generally looked like they had been mauled by a large cat – of the lion, or possibly tiger
variety – before leaving the house.

By the end of the teenage boys' adventure – which had begun with he and James browsing the open
street market, and had progressed to the two cheeky friends talking their way into a corner pub for
a pint (like grown-ups) – Sirius had thought he might actually be in love with the crazy residents.
This newfound love had wavered slightly when James and gotten into a disagreement in the little
pub with a terrifyingly fat bird wearing leather and plaid, because he'd asked her why she had a
large ring in her nose, and suggested that she might look less like a bull if she removed it. This
unwise statement had of course earned Prongs a solid punch to the jaw from the woman's meaty
fist, but Sirius's faith in these bizarre and wonderful muggles had been restored when the dame – in
all her bovine glory – had lifted his friend from the floor, sat him in the booth with her drinking
buddies, and slammed a shot of vodka down in front of him, saying with a boisterous guffaw that
he was, 'a funny little fucker.'

When Alphard had died and left Sirius all his gold, this dodgy but endearing corner of London was
the only place he'd looked for somewhere to live. When he'd found the upstairs flat within two
weeks of house hunting, Lily, James and Peter had tried to talk him out of it (James only because
he was not keen to give his bride-to-be another reason to unleash her famous temper on him). Much
to everyone's surprise however, Remus was all for it, despite the fact that the werewolf's growing
paranoia was already sizeable only months after finishing school. For some reason Sirius still didn't
really understand, Remus seemed to like the scary muggles as much as he did, and his famous
skills at reasoned argument had sold the others. So Sirius had bought the flat, grateful that his was
above the pie shop rather than the beardy-weirdy incense burners like his neighbour's because
waking up to the smell of pastry was much more pleasant than patchouli and sandalwood.

Taking the stairs two at time up to the short corridor-like landing that was the access to his and
Staple-face's flats Sirius reached the top quickly and turning left he saw Remus and Hermione
sitting on the floor beside the door to his home. They were leaning against the wall, their legs
poking out in front of them, talking quietly. Remus's head snapped to Sirius's approaching form and
he was on his feet in a second, wand pointing at Sirius's chest. Hermione stood too, wand drawn
also; there was a little red cut to her temple and her hair was exceedingly bushy. Sirius copied
them.

'Why did you have an argument with a house-elf at school in third year?' Remus asked.

Sirius smiled, 'Because the little twit prodded me in the gut and said while she was honoured I
enjoyed her jammy-dodgers so much, she was worried I was starting to look like one.'

'Yes,' Remus said with a snicker, 'still seems a bit rich considering Pete was standing right next to
you.'

'I reckon,' Sirius agreed, his eyes on Hermione; though she had her wand directed at him, she was
looking at his knees, her hair was totally mad and looked like there were bits of foliage in it, and
she was wearing very dirty socks on her feet. 'Who dobbed you and me in for our fun with the
Slytherin Quidditch stand?'

Remus grinned, 'Prongs, because when all the Slytherins' robes turned pink and their banners said
"Fluffy Bunnies for the cup" he swears all the noise they made put him off – I still say he just made
a bad shot.'

Sirius grinned at the memory of the fuchsia coloured snakes, both in face and dress, before he took
a few steps toward Hermione who still hadn't said a word; she was staring at her filthy socks now,
shoulders hunched and her arms crossed.

'Are you okay?' Sirius asked, she nodded jerkily, but didn't look at him. Sirius didn't know how to
react to a withdrawn Hermione, she always put her hand on his arm when he was in a weird
mood… but as hers were folded tightly across her chest it seemed to be a bad idea, so he settled for
her shoulder instead. 'What happened?' He asked, 'Did the Death Eaters find you?' She didn't react
to this either so Sirius looked to Remus for help, 'Were you there for it all, Moony?'

Remus had an odd expression on his face. 'No … it wasn't Death Eaters, er … MI5 are under the
impression that we are all covert operatives for the Russians, although they think you might be
IRA.'

Sirius laughed, 'No, really what happened?' surprised that Remus would joke when something had
obviously gone wrong.

Remus shook his head, 'That's what happened, Pads - it's totally messed up.'

Sirius was stunned, Remus wasn't kidding. 'Er … okay … shall I put the kettle on then?' He said
with another glance at the still stationary Hermione. Completely lost, he removed his hand from
where it was still resting on her shoulder and unlocked and opened the door to his flat.

'Don't sit down til you've checked it's safe,' he heard Remus mutter to Hermione as the pair
followed him inside.

Sirius was a little embarrassed that Hermione was seeing what a pig he really was, but it wasn't like
he could do anything about it. At least the kitchen was clean, he thought as he entered the closet-
sized room – four cupboards, a sink and muggle washer one wall, the little window that looked
down into his apparition alley, and an island-like bench that sat in the middle of the room – the
kitchen never got messy, it needed to be used for that to happen. 'Alright,' he said, after filling the
kettle and tapping it with his wand so that it boiled, 'What happened?'

Hermione still didn't seem inclined to speak, so he looked at Remus again. 'It seems as though we
have all been being watched for the last three months,' his friend said, pulling out one of the
barstools that were shoved under the counter so Sirius wouldn't trip over them when on a bleary
morning hunt for coffee. 'Hermione's credit card is fake. When she used it to check in at the hotel
back in May it tripped the muggles' system; the bank was contacted and they told the hotel that the
number was in use but not by a Miss Granger. They alerted the police who came to investigate.'

'What? But that was months ago!' Sirius said, even more confused as he searched for tea bags – it
really shouldn't be so hard to find things considering his cupboards were almost bare.

'Yes, that's what I said,' Remus agreed, 'but when the hotel showed police the identification she had
given them – the hotel have been holding her passport ever since she asked to live there for six
months – that's what caused everything to go berserk.'

Passport? Sirius knew what that was … he'd just read about them the other day … 'Why would
Hermione have a passport, I thought you only needed them to get into the country?'

Remus sighed, 'God Pads, how do you function?'

'I don't know, but I can't find any tea bags so coffee will have to do, is that okay?' he looked at
Hermione who had her head down, her massive, twig-strewn mop hiding her face; she bobbed her
head but still didn't look at him. He opened the larder – one of his four cupboards, charmed to keep
things cold – and pulled out a bottle of milk; sniffing it warily, he said, 'Um … black coffee?'

Remus grinned at him. 'Passports are how muggles prove who they are so they can leave the
country too.'

'Oh right,' Sirius said distractedly, trying to decide what to do with the rotten milk, as it didn't seem
right to put it back in the larder, 'like in that immigration junk.'

'Yes, so the police examined this perfect passport and found that there was no way to tell it apart
from a real one – but because she had used a card that wasn't issued by the bank, they ran a check
anyway and found that Hermione Granger was born in 1979. Not '59 like her passport said even
though it still had the same birth day and month – they thought it was a case of identity theft.'

'Oh shit,' Sirius said forgetting about the curdled milk. 'Since when are muggles so clever?' He
asked confused.

'Since the Cold War and paranoia set in Pads. They check everything these days; the Prime
Minister is very hard-line on privacy, or on invading it anyway. We think wizarding Britain is at
war - the muggles have had the threat of the Russians and not to mention the stuff in Ireland going
on for thirty years, and it's only getting worse. So anyway, they found a girl with an expertly forged
passport who turned up out of the blue and asked to live at the hotel for six months so she could
enjoy England and visit friends… but as far as they knew she never left the hotel after she met you.
They put recording devices in her room when her behaviour became more suspicious.'

'Are they allowed to do that?' Sirius was trying to compare it to a wizarding equivalent but there
really wasn't one – wizards still used good old fashioned spies.

'They can do what they want if they think someone is a threat. It was actually you that made them
even more worried.'

'What! What did I do?'

'First you left a message at reception that said you wanted to be entertained buy her insane plan –'

'But that's not weird!' Sirius interrupted, horrified that he may have caused this whole mental
situation. 'Why would they think she was a spy from that?'

'Well it wasn't at first; but then you were in the room the following evening when one of the staff
brought dinner in, even though they'd seen you leave that morning but not come back – it didn't
help that you gave the waiter a hundred pounds in tip either. They panicked; a police officer went
undercover as the maid that has been servicing Hermione's room - she planted the bugs.'

'Why didn't they just arrest her on the spot?' Sirius thought that it was very unusual to leave a
known criminal to her own devices. 'I mean to go to all that trouble seems insane.'

'I told you they are really paranoid – Hermione seemed settled there – they thought she might lead
them to someone important, and with all our talk of something big happening on Hallowe'en the
police thought it best to gather as much information as they could.'

'Alright … but once they heard us talking properly they would realise we weren't a threat, I mean
we're English,' Sirius said, still trying to fathom the way the British police worked.

'Maybe,' Remus said, 'but we talked about killing people and plans and all kinds of things that the
intelligence folk thought was code, plus all the magic in Hermione's room made the feed bad, that's
why they came to arrest her,' he paused, 'well they were there to arrest us too, thank god they came
early.'

'I'll say, I can just imagine telling Moody I was late for work cause I got arrested by muggles,'
Sirius said, shuddering a little at the thought of the inevitable fierce walking-stick prodding and his
boss's grumbled – but still pointy – words of disappointment.

'But it turns out that the Horcruxes affected the bugs so badly that the police lost the room
completely on Tuesday,' Remus went on as though Sirius had not interrupted him, 'They thought
this was more proof that we're KGB because they are the only ones with equipment to scramble
the bugs.'

Sirius nodded pretending he understood. Scrambling bugs, Merlin, Moony was the one speaking in
code. 'So they arrested you?' Sirius asked Hermione, trying to get her attention; she still had her
face hidden, and only nodded. 'Hermione, what's wrong? Did they hurt you?' He didn't think
muggle police tortured people, but what had Remus said? … MI5 … maybe they were different.
She shook her head, curly hair flicking about. 'Then what's the matter?' Sirius asked, a little
impatient with her attitude, 'You're safe. I'm guessing Moony got your stuff otherwise he would
have mentioned it by now; they're just muggles, it's not like they'll find you. And you're supposed
to be hiding anyway, have I missed something?' She shook her head again. 'Hermione!' he said
almost angrily - he was frustrated, why the hell wouldn't she talk to him? 'What the –'

'Pads she's embarrassed.' Remus cut in, and as soon as he had muttered these words Hermione got
to her feet and walked quickly from the room.

Sirius watched her go, completely perplexed. He turned back to Remus. 'What the fuck?' He asked
quietly.

'I know, I told her it's stupid,' Remus said in a whisper. 'So she made one little mistake - it's hardly
the end of the world, not when she's done so much good. But she won't listen to me, she's
questioning everything, thinks she's made even more mistakes that are going to come back and bite
her, that this is only the beginning. I tried to reason with her, that everything else will be fine, that
we have it all under control - but there's no talking to her. I swear she's as stubborn as you.'

Sirius supposed if you weren't used to making mistakes all the time – like he was – it might be a bit
hard to deal with, but that's what your friends were for, a sympathetic "Too bad mate" and then
teasing you until it was funny. How else were you meant to get over stuff? 'So where is she going
to live now?' he asked, looking for a subject that didn't involve looking for appropriate emotional
reactions to something he didn't understand, 'At Hogwarts?'

Remus shook his head, 'No, I asked her that but she doesn't want to - says she'll feel even more
trapped and that when she goes back after Hallowe'en the other teachers will recognise her. I think
she should stay here, rather than at mine. She can put up the security spells just as well here as at
the hotel, and there's only one way in, and you're home more than me – also if something went
wrong she can get away without having to run through the woods.'

'How did the police get in anyway?' Sirius said, realising that even he couldn't get into her room
with her letting him in.

'The maid, Hermione opened the door for her; she says they tackled her before she could get her
wand out. '

'Merlin - nabbed by muggles,' Sirius gave a little laugh, 'I guess I can understand why she feels a bit
silly but it's hardly a big deal. She got away, though - how did you find out?'

She sent me a patronus – it was bloody cryptic too – she was worried the police would get me
when I arrived but she had only just got away so she couldn't send it sooner.'

Sirius smiled at the reference to cryptic patroni messages and said, 'You should have seen Moody's
face when he relayed your message, it was hilarious; I think he was scared of your wolf.'

Remus grinned, 'Yeah, he's a tempestuous bastard this close to the moon. Moody should be glad all
this didn't happen next week – he would have had patronus teeth all over him.' He snickered a
little; Remus liked the fact that his soul protector was grumpier than he ever allowed himself to be.
'Sorry I didn't send it to you but Dumbledore doesn't want everyone knowing how the Order
communicates, and anyone could have seen it if appeared in the middle of the bullpen.'

'I figured.' Sirius said. 'So Hermione's going to stay here is she?'

Remus gave him a look, 'She didn't say anything about it when I mentioned it to her, but maybe
she'll come up with something else. I have to get going anyway – she can stay here for now, right?
Let me know if you need help.'

'Okay … er Moony, what do I say to her about this?' Sirius asked, realising he would have to deal
with her by himself, 'I mean, I've never seen her like that.'

'Dunno,' Remus said standing up from his stool and slinging his bag strap over his head, 'Sorry
mate. Maybe just leave it for now?'

Sirius nodded, not wanting to show his uncertainty. 'Okay.'

'Alright,' Remus said, 'I'll come by later shall I?'

'If you want,' Sirius said eagerly, knowing that his infinitely more considerate friend would be able
to sort out whatever blunders Sirius made. 'I'm going to owl Moody and tell him I won't be coming
back today. Hey,' he added as a sudden wonderful thought struck him, 'you didn't happen to leave
her Timeturner behind did you?'
Remus laughed, 'No Pads, I brought it with me. She has it now.'

'You git,' Sirius whined, 'you could have saved us tonnes of effort if you'd just left it there.'

'I'm going now.' Remus said firmly, obviously restraining an eye roll as he headed back through to
the sitting room, 'Hey,' he called, 'Hermione's not here.'

'Of course she is, you just can't see her in the mess,' Sirius said, following him into the room, fully
expecting to see her camouflaged by the disarray - but Remus was right, she wasn't there. 'Did you
hear the door open?'

'No.' the werewolf said, scanning the room thoroughly like he'd missed her on his first visual pass.

'Neither.' Sirius left the sitting room through the other door, the one that lead to a short passage that
accessed the bathroom and bedroom. He poked his head into his room and breathed a sigh of relief
- Hermione was curled up on the edge of his bed, her back to the door.

Sirius went back to the sitting room where Remus was moving the large pile of laundry from the
sofa, 'Found her,' Sirius said, 'she's asleep I think.'

'Oh okay - well, I'll see you later then,' Remus said, dropping the clothes back onto the cushions.

Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Were you looking for her in there?'

Remus laughed, 'I'll have you know that pile has been there so long it could be the entry to a whole
other universe.'

Sirius grinned too. 'You could be right. I should probably do something about it if I'm going to be
living with a girl.' As the words left his mouth he suddenly realised that it was true … living with a
girl? He'd never lived with a girl! Where was she going to sleep? Would she tell him to clean up all
the time? Would she put feminine crap all over the place?

'Padfoot?' Remus said, 'Are you okay? You've gone a bit pale.'

'Moony, I'm going to be living with a girl,' he said hoarsely.

'Yes,' Remus nodded, 'I'm quite happy about it. I'll be able to come and visit and have milk in my
tea and sit down without fearing for my life. It will be very novel.'

'But …'

'Come on Pads, it's not any different than you being at hers all the time. And besides …' a smirk
curled on the werewolf's lips, 'I wouldn't think you'd be that worried about this girl living with you.'

Sirius gulped. 'I guess, are you sure she wouldn't be safer at your place though, Moony? I mean
yours is impossible to get to and –'

Remus's smirk was so wide it looked like it hurt. 'Of course she'd be safer at my place, you idiot.
But how would you see her then? I'm not having you round all the time – I like the quiet – so shut
up and say thanks to me for not only rescuing her for you, but delivering her to your doorstep... and
its many implications.'

'You are too sneaky for your own good,' Sirius said, 'and you're right. Thanks mate.'

As gratitude to his friend for making sure everything was fine and keeping Hermione safe welled
up inside him, Sirius couldn't help himself; his arm that had been raised for the appropriate slap on
the shoulder of male appreciation suddenly bent and pulled Remus in for a rather less manly hug,
'Thanks for finding her.'

Remus laughed, embarrassed slightly by the show of affection. 'Alright you sentimental tosser, let
me go or you'll get your tears all over my jacket.'

Sirius grinned and shoved him away, 'Don't be so cheeky Moony, you forget – now that you don't
have the threat of eating me to hold over my head, I can hug you all I like.'

Remus was chuckling under his breath as he opened the door, 'Just don't be a git Pads, I know it
will be difficult but try, okay? And I'll see you later about this polyjuice thing – mental by the
way.'

'No it's brilliant. You'll see.'

It turned out that Hermione wasn't sleeping. When Sirius flopped down on the other side of his bed
after Remus had left she gave a start of surprise. 'Hiya Roomy,' he said cheerfully, grinning at her.

'Lo,' she said quietly, 'what are you so happy about?'

'Well, Moony tells me you're going to live here for a bit,' he said, deciding that if she got out of her
mopey mood it might not be so bad after all, 'so that's pretty exciting.'

'Is it? What about why I have to live here? The fact that I'm a total idiot.' She turned her face into
the pillow and he could hardly understand her as she continued to grumble.

'Pfft,' Sirius batted his hand at her, 'welcome to the club love. There're way more of us than those
creepy non-idiot folk – it's much more fun – I'll have to send away for your membership card …
although,' he paused, frowning at her, 'don't get your hopes up, they only let in people who are
idiots all the time, not just once in their entire life – but I'm such a high ranking member, my
sponsorship might get you in…' She gave a little snort and he prodded her shoulder. 'So are you
going to talk to me now?'

'Is it really okay if I stay here?' she asked in a small voice.

Sirius was almost hurt that she really seemed to think he'd turn her away, but he continued in his
happy teasing anyway, 'Okay, now they'll definitely let you in – such a stupid question almost
guarantees lifetime membership.'

'Sirius stop it,' she moaned, her face still hidden. 'I really messed up. It could have been much
worse you know.'

'Yeah, but it wasn't,' he said, beginning to think that maybe Remus had been right about her
stubbornness, 'and now you live here – hardly a disaster. Okay, maybe the sitting room is, but we
can fix that.' She ignored him, face still buried in the pillow, leafy hair everywhere, Sirius looked
at her for a moment, was this what it was like for her when he was a sulky bastard? She had
responded to teasing – it was worth another try. 'I don't take credit cards though, real or fake, so
you'll have to think up another way to compensate me for my generosity.'

It worked - she finally turned her head to look at him, he could still barely see her face through the
tangle of her hair as she asked cautiously, 'Like what?'

He hastily wiped the grin from his face and looked up at the ceiling. 'Well, I've always fancied
having a housekeeper, can you cook?'
'Er … yes.' she said.

The tone in her voice caused him to look at her - she sounded like she thought he was serious.
'Kidding,' he said, 'Merlin woman, did the coppers take your sense of humour as well as your
pride?'

'Maybe,' she said, head in the pillow again.

'You need to cheer the fuck up,' he said sternly. 'If it was the other way around would you let me
sulk like a little five year old girl over something I couldn't change?'

'I am a little girl,' she said sullenly, still trying to suffocate herself.

'Hardly! I'm not scared of little girls and you frighten the bejesus out of me when you put your
mind to it, so you can't play that card.'

'Sirius,' she grumbled, 'I'm so mortified. I can't believe I thought it would work. It seems so obvious
now - of course changing a date marker in the future wouldn't make an account appear in the past. I
just… I don't know, it's not like me to misunderstand something like that. And those MI5 blokes
are scary. I didn't think they were ever going to let me out of the handcuffs.' Her voice shook
slightly.

'But they did,' Sirius said, pleased to get more than a few words out her; he was growing impatient
with her moping again, 'how did you get away?'

'I said I needed to go to the loo, so they got two female agents to take me - they even came in the
toilet with me but they had to unlock the cuffs so I could –'

'Gotcha,' Sirius said hastily, not needing that particular detail.

'And so as soon as my hands were free I got my wand and disapparated – the Ministry will be all
over it. I probably lost the women their jobs. Sirius this is a disaster. And – ,' her voice trembled
again, 'and... now I have to go back after Hallowe'en because the muggles will think I'm a spy
forever! They will look for me for the rest of my life… and… and the Ministry will find out who I
am and I'll be sent to Azkaban for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and meddling with time… and
muggle things and … and …' she hiccupped and began to cry, 'and I don't want to go.'

That was why she was so upset? Because she thought it meant she had to leave no matter what?
That was why? Because she wanted to stay so much? Sirius knew he shouldn't be smiling – it really
wasn't appropriate – but he was. Like a total daft berk. He stretched his jaw open wide a few times
trying to make the grin go away, because she was still sobbing and it seemed wrong to try and
comfort someone when you looked like you'd just won a million galleons.

With his stupid smile under control Sirius realised this was quite a conundrum; a crying girl on his
bed telling him she didn't want to leave -– a not unfamiliar set of circumstances when worded in
such a way, except that it wasn't morning and Hermione was at least dressed -– but it still made
him very uncomfortable, not only that he had just compared her to those hopeless bints but also
because in the bint situation he knew what to do. He'd tell them they were lucky they got to spend
the whole night, take their floo address to avoid being hexed and roll over and go back to sleep -–
absolutely no help in this predicament. He weighed his options… surely there could be only one
course of action, he thought decisively.

He reached out from where he was lying and snaked his arm around her back, tucking his fingers
under her ribs and hauled her to him; she gave a slight squeak of surprise at the sudden jerk, and he
held in the grunt of pain as her forehead collided with his collarbone. Merlin she had a hard head.
'Now,' he said sternly into her hair, spitting a few strands from his mouth before he continued, 'stop
this hysterical nonsense or I might start thinking you're an impostor.'

'But –' she started to protest.

'No,' he interrupted, 'I've had enough. It's pointless, totally irrational – not like you at all – not to
mention incredibly insulting. How dare you suggest we won't find a way to fix this?'

She lay quietly for a long while, long enough for Sirius to stop enjoying the contact and start
wondering if he had made the wrong decision and was about to be told off -– but then, just as he
was about to say something, he wasn't sure what, possibly to ask for a pardon of flagrant twattery
once again, she gave a tiny laugh, 'Sorry,' she said, her voice still broken, 'I didn't mean to be so
rude.'

'So you should be.' He said as his daft smile made a reappearance, 'Ye of little faith, you'll see.'

She was quiet again, her breathing slowly losing the uneven hitching as she obviously did some
classic Hermione-style internal reasoning. It really was incredibly unusual for her to be so upset.
Sirius was quite proud of himself for not making it worse; Remus wouldn't believe him when he
told him about it later.

Since Hermione plainly wasn't going to say anything more – but hadn't even tried to move from her
position on top of him – he amused himself for while imagining Remus's expression when Sirius
gloated about what a gentlemanly non-git he had been in fixing the situation. It was either that or
focus on the fact that she was lying on top of him which would definitely lead to him having
nothing to gloat about all.

'Thanks,' Hermione said, her voice suddenly breaking through his conjured picture of a shocked
Moony falling to the floor in dead faint and hitting his head on one of the many hard items strewn
across Sirius's sitting room rug. She sounded more normal now, and she started to push herself
away from him.

'Nope,' he said tightening his grip around her, 'you're not going anywhere, you are in need of
consoling, and I'm feeling generous.'

'Sirius,' she said voice muffled by his robes, 'really, I'm fine! Sorry for… It was all such a shock, I
never mess things up, and I didn't realise how much I want–' She stopped, and then said, 'anyway, I
don't need to be consoled.'

'Well in that case,' he said with a shrug, 'it seems you're just lying on top of me in my bed then,
that's a very pleasant turn of events.'

He felt her shaking as she tried to suppress a laugh. 'You're a right flirt recently,' she said, 'and I
believe we are on bed not in it.'

'Ah, tiny details, you're still on me, that's the important part,' he said, wondering how long it would
be before she hit him for being crude, 'and for your information I have always been a right flirt,' he
reminded her.

But she seemed content to stay there and let him make blindingly obvious innuendoes, because she
said, 'Yes I realise that – but I thought since the, er …' she cleared her throat, 'cloak party, I was the
nasty piece of work that stomped on your heart.'

'That's a bit harsh,' he said with a quiet chuckle. 'maybe just kicked it a few times, flipped it the
bird, you know.'

'Oh, right,' she said, the words sounding strangely distorted as she giggled softly.

'But don't worry,' he assured her, 'since I was barely aware I was capable of suffering such an
injury, I think it's been a bit of a wake-up call.'

At this, she began to laugh properly. 'I don't think that makes it any better.' she said. Then he
suddenly felt her lips come into contact with his neck in the form of a soft quick kiss – in the same
spot her tears had been. 'Thanks for not making me feel worse,' she said, her voice returning to
normal, 'about the arrest - well, about everything actually - you might pretend to be an arse but
you're not really.'

Sirius didn't answer; he was too busy thinking about his resolution, if the situation presented itself
… here it seemed to be.

Then there was a thundering knock at the front door, followed by a bellow of, 'BLACK! You better
be dead because if you're not you'll wish you were – I'm sick to death of chasing you down and
bringing you back to work!'

Sirius jumped so much Hermione was nearly thrown from the bed – then to his horror he realised
he hadn't locked up after Remus had left. He heard the door open, squeaking like the precursor to a
very violent cane-ridden death. He was scrambling from the bed and dodging out the door into the
sitting room in a flash. 'Sorry Moody, I forgot to owl you,' he said quickly, heart pounding and
feeling a little woozy at the abrupt change in necessary brain function. 'Hermione got arrested for
being a Russian spy and then interrogated by those muggle MI5 blokes, she had to leave the place
she was staying so now she's got no safe house, it's been a disaster – and I was just leaving
anyway.' He said in a rush, reaching out a hand to the doorjamb to support himself as his head
spun.

'Merlin Black, are you alright?'

'Fine,' Sirius said, bewildered, as Moody took a few steps toward him with a look of concern on his
scarred face.

'And the girl?'

'She's fine,' Sirius said with a sharp nod, it was so unlike Moody to be understanding.

'Good' he said; he lifted his walking stick from the floor and jabbed it roughly into Sirius's
kneecap. Sirius grinned - that was better, he'd been worried for a minute, not that anyone would be
able to get one over on Moody to impersonate him anyway, they would bashed to floor in seconds
with his weapon of walking destruction. 'So where is she?' the old Auror asked.

'I'm here Mr Moody,' Hermione said poking her head out from behind Sirius; he hadn't realised
she'd followed him.

'You're alright, are you?' Moody asked, his tone almost kind again. 'Those MI5 blighters might be
muggles but they're tough.'

'Yes I'm fine – though you might hear of a KGB agent who can disappear into thin air. I'm sure it
will get back to the Ministry.'

'Hmm,' Moody said with an odd choked sound, 'you might be right about that,' and then Sirius saw
the weird and unnatural smile on Moody's face and realised the odd sound had been a laugh. 'Good
for you lass.' Then he looked at Sirius, 'Do us a brew Black, I think I need to hear this story first
hand – you know they're like our muggle opposites don't you? MI5, I like to know how they
operate, could be useful.'

'Ah … Moody,' Sirius said slowly, 'Hermione's had a rough morning - maybe we could talk about
it another time.'

'What are you, her mother?' Moody growled at him, and turned to Hermione. 'You're made of
tougher stuff than that aren't you lassie? A little scare from the muggles, it's good for the blood.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, looking surprisingly calm considering she'd just spent the better part of an
hour crying about it.

At her reaction, Sirius suddenly understood that she really wasn't upset about the arrest, and while
she might have been embarrassed that she had messed up her identity, the thing that had made her
cry was that she thought there was no way for her to live in 1981 anymore, no matter what Sirius
came up with. Merlin, he was on a roll with this feelings rubbish today; his recent introduction to
his newfound feminine side might be good for something after all.
 Potions, Pirates and Possibilities

8 th October

'So lass, they took you down to Box 500, then what?' Alastor Moody asked after taking a swig
from the mug of milkless, sugarless coffee Black had put in front of him - foul stuff it was, why
didn't the kid have tea for Merlin's sake? What sort of Englishman was he? It seemed that Black's
place hadn't been lived in for months; it had a musty forgotten smell about it, but then, that could
just be the unwelcome stench of youth, Alastor thought.

Hermione looked up from her own cup of American travesty, nursed between her hands. 'Two men
walked me inside and put me in a little room. I had to wait alone, but there was a big one-way
mirror on the wall – I knew they would be watching me through it so I didn't want to give away
that I had my wand – and a way out, and I really thought that once someone came to question me
they'd undo the handcuffs – but they didn't.'

'That is unusual,' Alastor said forgetting that the liquid in his mug was disgusting and taking
another sip, grimacing at the flavour as he swallowed. 'How many of them questioned you?' he
asked.

'It was only one bloke at first, older chap - he looked more like a business man than an agent,'
Hermione said before drinking from her mug. She didn't seem to mind the bitter liquid; hers was
almost finished.

Alastor tapped his hand on the bench top rhythmically as he mulled over the idea of muggles being
wary enough to keep a young woman in handcuffs - it wasn't the normal procedure, but if it was
only one agent …'That makes sense then,' he said, 'if there was only you and him in the room,
keeping you restrained is understandable.'

'He offered me a deal right off the bat,' Hermione said, 'that if I gave them the information they
wanted he said they would try me for fraud rather than espionage; I said I would take it.'

'Good girl – they would show their hand then,' Moody said, nodding along approvingly.

'Yes that's what I thought, and I was right – I told him I'd been blackmailed into working for the
Russians and that I wanted to defect.'

'Lass, are you sure you don't want to be an Auror? We could use some heads like yours.' She's
better than half the dolts I'm dealing with at the moment, and that's without training, Alastor
thought, distracted by his disenchantment with his department and the restrictions on them.
Voldemort would be gone soon enough but Alastor was confident that if he'd been able to fight this
war the way he wanted it could have been over two years ago.

At his question to Hermione, Black, who had been leaning motionless against the edge of the
counter turned his glaze from the girl to look at him. Alastor couldn't quite discern the meaning,
there was a slight glint in his eyes - not the usual "I'm up to something that is going to piss you off"
glint – it was like pride, with one of his infuriating half smiles. He restrained the urge to whack the
kid, settling for a glare instead; Black needed to get his priorities in order, but Alastor would deal
with him later.
'No Mr Moody,' Hermione said with a real smile this time and a little shake of her head, 'I only do
these things because I have to; doing it every day is not my idea of a good life.' Pity he thought. 'So
as soon as I said I would tell them whatever I could, he left me alone again. When he came back he
had this list, a transcript of what had been recorded from my hotel room. It was mostly wrong - I
knew magic affected electronics but it seemed to fluctuate; some conversations they had almost
word for word but others must have been hard to understand because I barely recognised them. I'm
just so glad they hadn't planted the bugs until after I told Sirius who I was – although they might
have just locked me up in the psych ward instead of the counter terrorism headquarters if they
heard me saying I had come from the future.'

Alastor had to hold in a chuckle at this - it wouldn't do for Black to see him laughing twice in one
day - and threw back another mouthful of coffee to help keep his expression dour.

'They had strung a lot of it together to piece together the operation we were plotting; they thought
Voldemort was a codename for someone – that he was our target.'

'True enough,' Alastor muttered, thinking it ironic that Voldemort was the "terrorist" as muggles
called it, and Hermione and Black were essentially on the same side at the arrestors.

'If I hadn't been panicking that Remus was about to turn up at the hotel and get shot, it would have
been kind of funny,' Hermione said with an odd twist to her mouth. 'They had list of code
translations, Fiendfyre was the name of the bombing we were planning and "Horcruxes" meant
"information" – I guess because we always talked about "getting all the Horcruxes". It was so
weird. They had your name too, on what I guess was a hierarchy chart - the agent kept asking who
Dumbledore was – he was convinced Dumbledore is the alias of some high ranking KGB guy in
charge of us, then you – I think they must have got that from Sirius talking about you as his boss.
They seemed to think Sirius had a double allegiance IRA and KGB, probably from that Belfast trip
you sent him on back in July. By the time we involved Remus they were only picking up little
snippets of conversation – we're lucky it was so scrambled. I mean Remus's mum is a muggle, so I
think he's got a muggle birth certificate. If they had put it together with his family it could have
been much worse.'

'You're right, it could have been,' Alastor agreed. 'You might have got yourself into a bit of bother,
lass, but you did all right getting out of it, and at least now we know the extent of the mess we have
to sort out. What did they think your mission was exactly?' he asked, wondering if this was going to
affect the plans for Hallowe'en. It wouldn't do to have muggles turn up at wherever Hermione was
going to burn the Horcruxes, and start interfering with things.

'They thought I had arrived here to organise a bombing in coordination with the IRA, and collect
information on the Blacks – they thought Grimmauld was code for government. So our top Russian
operative "Dumbledore" was going to kill some public figure – code name "Voldemort" – on
Hallowe'en, and my bombing was a distraction.'

Black gave a chuckle that he tried to disguise as a cough; Alastor sent him glower.

'They were waiting it out, collecting information - the only reason I was arrested now was because
their signal went dead. They'd lost us on and off a couple of times, but not like this. I think it was
whenever a new Horcrux was introduced because we would normally leave it in the sitting room or
on the counter while we talked. The transformer for all the bugs was in the telephone and I had put
the Horcrux container right next to it on Tuesday, and totally fried the thing. All I can think is that
I'm so glad Dumbledore never came to the hotel – if they had heard him they would have probably
come busting in on the spot.'

'So how did they think Black and Lupin were getting in? And how did you get in?'
'Apparated on the balcony outside,' Black said. 'Hermione had the most insane security spells – I
bet you couldn't even break them Moody.'

'Of course I could,' Alastor said, mildly offended.

'No, I really don't think you could; I've been trying for four months.' Black insisted.

'You what?' Hermione said looking at him in surprise.

Black shrugged and winked at her 'I like a challenge.'

Alastor tapped his walking stick against the bench to remind the smarmy sod that he was there. 'So
they weren't watching the window then?' he asked Hermione. 'That's what they would normally
do.'

'Well it turns out that the only building with a clear view of the balcony happens to be the SWP
headquarters; they own it, it's private property, and they're the last people to do MI5 a favor.'

Moody grinned. 'You, lassie, are very lucky. I doubt those buggers would let the fuzz use their
offices to spy on civilians if it was Herman Goering himself returned from the dead and camped out
in your room.'

Hermione smiled again and shook her head slightly, 'I know, so much of it was luck, but Mr
Moody, what am I going to do? MI5 are going to think that Russians have … I don't know …
teleport technology or something now. I mean, I vanished right in front of two muggles. The
Statute of Secrecy … when the Ministry hears about this they'll come looking for me – and then
they'll find out I'm not supposed to be here, and the Timeturner alone is enough for me to go to
Azkaban.' Her smile had gone now, she was looking imploringly at Alastor, her eyes wide and
concerned.

'Now lass, the thing is, the Ministry is slow, and quite busy enough,' Alastor said; bloody slow he
thought. At least the girl seemed to understand the situation - he was very impressed that she had
worked all this out already, and wasn't just crying hysterically like most of the girls her age would
be considering she'd only escaped from them mere hours ago. 'It's only twenty-three days now,
they won't catch up to you in that time. And then you'll nip off home back to where you belong and
it will just be more bloody paperwork for me and Black.' He looked at his employee as he said this,
there was an odd flickering in the kid's eyes, almost like … defeat? It was a shock for Alastor to
see the cocky boy in such a way.

Moody knew there was something going on between the two young people; did Black really think
he could keep the girl here? Moody thought it was going to be a shame when she left - she would
be a very useful ally, but at least if she was safe in the future Alastor could have another go at
convincing her join the Auror department then. Twenty years … would he still be in charge?
Probably not, but whoever was would still take his recommendation. But the most immediate
benefit of the girl staying would be that Black, while still a pain in the arse, had been much less of
one since she came along. If Alastor didn't have a reputation to up hold, and fear to instil in his
employees half the things the kid said would've had Alastor laughing his head off.

'Alright then lass, will you be okay here by yourself for a while? I need Black's help with this, but I
won't keep him too late.' Black's mouth was hanging open in shock and Moody realised he had let
the gruff tone leave his voice - damn kids - so he added in a growl, 'Not that he'd be much use if
anyone came calling anyway – already had to save his arse once haven't you? And carry him home
when he fainted I hear.'
Hermione giggled under her breath, 'How do you know about that?'

'Lupin told Albus,' Alastor said, 'laughing fit to burst, I'd add.'

'I had just been held hostage and tortured,' Black said grumpily. 'No appreciation for my hardship,
and I rescued myself that time.'

'You still fainted, Black, and had to be carried home by a girl half your size,' Alastor said, once
again holding in his amusement at the kid's indignation. He was quite impressed Black had
managed to get out of that one – not that he or Lupin would tell Alastor how he'd managed it.
'Anyway come along, we need to get onto this quickly.'

'Right,' Black said giving Hermione a long look.

She rolled her eyes and said, 'I'll be fine, I'll cast the charms.'

Sirius still didn't move so Alastor picked up his stick – the unexpected up-side to losing his leg had
definitely been the acquisition of his cane, a very useful encouragement tool – and prodded Black
sharply in the kidney with it. 'Hurry up Black, I want to have a go at breaking these amazing spells
before we get out of here.'

Black jumped and looked round at him, his hand rubbing at the injury. 'In my own house Moody?
That's a bit much.'

'It's deserved,' Alastor said menacingly 'I saw that look again.'

Black glowered at him, but didn't reply, only leading the way from the pokey kitchen.

Remus Lupin always acted for the best. Sometimes it had been in the form of subtly reining in the
more damaging aspects of some prank plan his friends had come up with at Hogwarts ("Wouldn't it
be more fun if we don't get caught? The mystery will drive the teachers crazy."). Sometimes it was
distracting Lily so her temper at James for still behaving like a teenager would diminish.
Sometimes even smoothing over Sirius's often offensive behaviour towards the fairer sex - not that
he had needed to do that in the last little while, though he might have to rediscover those skills this
evening since Sirius no doubt made a pig's ear of convincing Hermione that her error wasn't really
the end of the world.

Despite a life spent making decisions that would preserve the long-term happiness of his friends -
even if they didn't think so at the time - the choice Remus had made this afternoon caused his
stomach to twist horribly. He walked along the seventh floor corridor in Hogwarts towards the
gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office, weighed down with guilt.

'Sugar Quill,' Remus said to the ugly stone creature, and stepped onto the spiralling staircase that
carried him to the door with the griffin knocker. As he raised his fist to knock, the internal battle
sprung up inside him more fiercely than ever: one friend's happiness over betraying the trust of
another? She would never trust him again if she found out what he had done. But Remus Lupin
always acted for the best. He sealed his decision with a knock of the golden griffin.

'Enter,' Dumbledore's voice called from within the room.

Remus took a deep steadying breath - he had made his choice. He stepped through the door,
fumbling in his bag as he crossed the peaceful office.

'Mr Lupin, what a pleasant surprise,' Dumbledore said, closing a book and sitting back in the high-
backed chair behind his wide desk.

Remus didn't meet Dumbledore's eye as he reached the desk, or as he fished the bronze hourglass
from his bag, and not even as he dropped it on the polished wooden surface in front of the
headmaster. It was only when he sat in the chair opposite the old wizard that he finally lifted his
head and looked into the astonished blue gaze. 'Now will you tell me why?' Remus asked. The
sickly guilt inside him made the words coarse as he spoke them; it sounded more like a demand
than a question.

'Remus,' Dumbledore said in a quiet, awed voice, picking up the glinting Timeturner carefully,
'well done. How did you get it - is Miss Granger aware that you have it?

'No,' Remus said, feeling like he wanted to reach out and snatch it back. I'm a thief, a werewolf and
a thief, he berated himself. 'I found it when I was packing her things at the hotel; she kept it in a
bag with the Horcruxes. When we arrived at Sirius's flat I left her upstairs in the hall and said I was
going to make sure there was no one watching us. I made a copy, and kept the real one – she
checked the Horcrux bag and saw the fake in there.' He swallowed against the bile rising in his
throat and added quietly, 'She doesn't know.'

'Yes, how is she coping after her ordeal with the muggles?' Dumbledore asked kindly, still turning
the object over in his fingers, the metallic sand within catching the light from the window behind
him. 'I will admit I thought you were playing some sort of elaborate joke on me when you patronus
arrived.'

'She's okay,' Remus said slowly, 'but really concerned that this is only the first of many mistakes. I
assured her that we have everything else covered.'

Dumbledore nodded, still fascinated by the bronze and glass Timeturner in his hand. 'Very good
Remus. You have done me a great service - I know Miss Granger would not let me examine this if
I had asked.'

'Then why do you want to?' Remus asked, still cautious. 'You promised it wasn't for your own use.'

'And it is not,' Dumbledore confirmed. 'Remus, this is a very confusing device. When she first told
me that she had come from so far in the future I did not believe her for a second: to travel so far
back in time is impossible. Not only that, but to travel forward at all is equally impossible. Miss
Granger has created a very powerful and dangerous object, if it is truly capable of those
impossibilities. It is my duty to understand how she achieved it. Were you able to learn anything of
her method?'

'Only that is has something to do with the sand Professor.'

'I thought as much.' Dumbledore said with an affirming dip of his head, 'I have been speaking with
my friend Nicolas; he has a theory but is nothing more than that at this stage.'

Remus nodded. 'So do you think this means she will not be able to return to her own time after all?'

'Mr Lupin,' Dumbledore said gravely, 'she should never have been able to leave it in the first place
– but it appears that she did - so we cannot rule out that it will work in reverse. I am still unsure of
the repercussions but with study of this device we should be able to draw a likely concussion.'

'You can't keep it,' Remus said firmly and possibly a little rudely. 'You said two weeks. If you
haven't figured it out by then you'll just have to give up because I will be taking it back.'

'Of course Remus. I made a promise and I will keep it,' Dumbledore said, looking quite surprised
at the werewolf's tone.

'Good.' Remus said as he stood from the chair and turned to leave the office, not caring if he had
been offensive. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this room and all its reminders that he
had betrayed a woman who had helped him so much. The only person he felt he owed more than
Hermione and her Wolfsbane potion was Dumbledore himself for letting Remus attend school,
because without school he would not have known Sirius, and without Sirius he would have never
met Hermione in the first place.

When Remus reached the door to the spiral staircase Dumbledore said, 'You did the right thing
Remus. I just want to make sure it's safe for her to use. I would hate for such a brilliant mind to be
lost to nothingness.'

'Could that happen?' Remus asked aghast - he had never heard of such a thing.

'If Nicolas's theory is correct, it is a possibility.' Dumbledore said solemnly.

'Told you, old man,' Sirius said as he threw himself into the chair opposite Moody's desk in the
Head Aurors office at the Ministry, 'I told you wouldn't be able to break them.' He was so relieved
Moody couldn't get through Hermione's spells, not just because it meant she was safe but because
it made him feel a bit better that he hadn't managed it yet either.

'So you said – all the way here,' Moody growled at him, easing himself into his own chair, a
wooden ship-captain's chair. Sirius grinned to himself at the piratey parallels the old Auror
continued to present, the long mangy hair, the grouchy demeanour of a man who lived at sea and
never had enough female company, the peg leg – he could just see Moody with a parrot on his
shoulder and a bottle of rum swinging from his hand, drawing his cane with a flourish and saying
'Avast me hearties!' 'We need to sort this mess out before the higher ups find out. Because the girl
is right, it will be hit and miss with Azkaban for risking such exposure.'

All humorous pirating fantasies were pushed aside as Sirius gulped; maybe his reassurances to
Hermione had been a little hollow after all. This could not be how it ended though, he told himself,
one little mistake was not going to make her go home. He wouldn't have it. 'So how do we sort it
out?'

'I'm not sure Black,' Moody said, tapping his cane absentmindedly against the leg of his desk, 'but
I'll think of something – she's associated with the Order so it will make us look bad if it gets out,
but leave that to me. There is something else I want you to tell me, and I want the whole story.'

'There is?' Sirius asked nervously. Moody had chivvied him along to the Ministry to fix the muggle
situation, and now he wanted to have a chat? This couldn't be going anywhere good.

'Yes. You and Lupin weren't just looking up immigration for fun,' Moody said, his tapping cane
coming to a sudden stop as he looked Sirius directly in the eye.

It was going somewhere terrible as it turned out, Sirius thought. He made one last stab at
avoidance, saying, 'I certainly wasn't – he told you I was there against my will. He loves that
boring bollocks.'

'Black,' Moody growled, 'tell me the truth.'

Sirius's newly discovered absolute confirmation that Hermione wanted to stay was still fresh in his
mind and it made him think that it didn't really matter because Moody was going to find out
eventually - like in November when Hermione didn't leave, because she was going to stay. 'Okay
Moody. You're right. But it's like I said the other day, she's worried about what she's going back to
- I really think she'd be happier staying.'

'And that's staying as your compatriot in bringing down Voldemort is it?' Moody asked, his voice
ominous, 'or were you two in the bedroom for the obvious reason?'

Sirius suddenly found that breathing was rather difficult; not because he was embarrassed – even if
they had been doing what his superior was suggesting Sirius wouldn't be bashful – but because he
knew that Moody was going to accuse him of not seeing the bigger picture again. Sirius really
didn't understand his boss's hang-up with the bigger picture; as long as the task was achieved –
which it would be, their defeat of Riddle was practically in the bag - why couldn't there be a few
enjoyable thumbnail sketches on the side? The real problem was that he saw a bigger picture, for
once. If she was in danger of going to Azkaban, of course Sirius would rather wait around for
twenty years to see her again, so his entire defence for his actions would fall apart completely. 'Not
that it's any of your business old man, but no – she was upset. I was doing the friendly thing and
telling her we'd find a way to fix it.'

Moody raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 'She didn't seem upset.'

'No … not about the arrest,' Sirius said. Moody seemed to like Hermione and maybe he wouldn't be
quite so jabby with his walking stick if he knew that it wasn't just a selfish ploy of Sirius's. 'She
doesn't want to go back now either.'

'Merlin!' Moody exclaimed, cane crashing down on the desktop. 'Because of you I'm guessing.'

Sirius tried very hard not to smile, very hard but the blasted thing sprung out on his face anyway.
'Maybe,' he said with a shrug, 'but she likes Remus too.'

'What?' Moody said incredulously. 'I didn't she'd be that kind of girl.'

'Er, no, not like that,' Sirius said, suddenly finding this conversation too funny for words and
breaking out into laughter - laughter which was quelled with the usual jabbing.

'Get that sodding look off your face, kid,' Moody grumbled as he retracted the walking stick. Sirius
attempted to straighten his face with all his might, but as always, failed. 'I'm not a cold hearted
bastard, Sirius,' Moody said, 'but whatever is going on you need to know that she has to leave. I
can't obliviate the whole of London's police department, not to mention MI-bloody-Five and all the
chaps at the Muggle Relations Department and the DMLE. She'll just have to hide until Hallowe'en
and then go back.'

Sirius was so stunned, he couldn't speak. Moody's words, though horribly depressing, were kind;
his boss had just called him by his given name for the first time in three years of knowing him. The
only person Moody called by their first name was Dumbledore, and that was only sometimes.
Sirius looked at the scarred, battered old face, and found no malice or undercurrent of annoyance.
'Okay' Sirius said quietly, 'but if I come up with something, will you keep it to yourself?'

'Black I will not tell a soul about any of this. People already think I'm mad enough - what do you
think they'll say if I started spouting off that ladies' man Black has fallen in love with a time
traveller who came back to kill Voldemort?'

Sirius snorted - when said aloud, it did sound ridiculous. 'It's not love Moody, Merlin – I've only
known her four months, but she's definitely a step up from the usual and,' he shrugged, 'we don't
really talk about it anyway. We just - I dunno - get along well.'
'Enough of this bollocks, Black,' Moody said uncomfortably. 'I'm going to go and have a poke
around upstairs and see if there's any rumours about this yet. You can go home.'

'Really?' Sirius asked, quite surprised.

'Yes, I'm sick of looking at your stupid face.'

Sirius grinned - Moody had a heart. Merlin, what was the world coming to?

Sirius waited alone for Remus to arrive that evening. Hermione was asleep; the events of the day
had caught up with her suddenly after she had let Sirius into his flat. He had been surprised and a
little grateful upon his arrival home that she had not had some female fit of cleanliness in his
absence. The sitting room was still the bombsite it had been when he and Moody had left; he did
notice however, when he went into his bedroom to change out of his Ministry straitjacket, that the
bed had been made. He wondered if that meant Hermione planned on sleeping in it, or just couldn't
stand the sight of the possibly-two-month-old sheets, on general principle. Sirius was hoping for
the former.

When she had fallen asleep on the couch in the early evening (the laundry pile having been
dumped to the floor) Sirius decided that he could use Remus's visit as an excuse, and she might not
think him a scamming bugger for moving her to the bedroom. Moony, well-known for his loud and
raucous behaviour, would surely disturb her slumber if she was left on the sofa … well maybe not.
But who knew, perhaps the werewolf would be so overcome by Sirius's grand plan that he would
howl at the moon, or something similarly noisy and sleep-invading. Sirius was really just being
considerate. She didn't seem to question him, in any case.

Although Moody's pessimism earlier today had inspired flashes of doubt, Sirius had regained his
determination on project "keep her here". He had a new plan that would solve both the hunting of
her by secret agent muggles and Death Eating twats, plus it would give her a safe identity so she
could work. It really was the best plan ever. There was no point doubting anything.

When Remus finally arrived, Sirius was in a bizarre state of boredom and anticipation; the quick
tapping on the heavy door had him jumping from his chair in startled shock that there was someone
knocking, even though he'd been waiting for his friend to arrive for an hour.

'That you Moony?' he asked when he reached the door. A grin spread on his face as it always did;
he purposefully asked this question to aggravate Remus.

'Yes Pads,' Remus answered, with a satisfying exasperation dripping from the two little words.

'What did I refuse to help you with in sixth year because I didn't think our friendship could survive
such a trial?' Sirius asked.

There was silence on the other side of the door. Sirius's grin widened thinking that he'd finally
stumped his clever friend, and then he realised that while Remus just might not remember, it could
also be that it wasn't Remus at all. Sirius withdrew his wand, and immediately felt silly for his
ingrained paranoia, because Remus said 'I don't think you phrased it so eloquently at sixteen, Pads
– I believe your words were "Fuck off Moony! It's Saturday, what kind of a friend are you?".
Anyway, potions essay.'

'Yeah well, you were so awful at potions, even when it was just theory I was afraid for my life. At
least I was nice enough not to say that. And it worked out alright – Macdonald helped you in the
end didn't she?'
'Yes, and much better than you could have done – you lazy git. Where did you hide Prongs' new
broom to stop him showing it off to everyone in third year?'

'Nowhere, I wrapped it in his invisibility cloak and left it on Pettigrew's bed; I guess I'm lucky the
fat lump didn't sit on it – or Prongs would have hexed me to jelly in my sleep.' Sirius laughed at the
memory of James turning the dormitory upside down in an effort to be reunited with his most
prized possession. 'But at least he couldn't find it all day.' Sirius added as he flicked his wand at the
door. Hermione had taught him the secret to her charm, and Sirius was actually a little disappointed
that he hadn't been able to figure it out. It was just a nonverbal password, that was all. So simple
but as she had modified the protective spell from the containment charm used on Fiendfyre it was
obscure enough that most wizards wouldn't even think of it, and if they did, her muggle passwords
would stump the Ddeath Eeaters anyway. The password to open the door from the inside was
Television; he hadn't asked what the word to open it from the outside was.

When he pulled open the door he was presented with the sight of Remus, smiling but looking
worried about something - not particularly unexpected given the events of the day, Sirius
supposed. 'Alright Moony?' he said happily as the werewolf stepped past him into the still messy
sitting room. He closed the door with a snap and recast the charm, then grinned at his friend, 'So,
drink then?'

'Sure, it's been a shit afternoon,' Remus said, still downcast.

'Why, what happened?' Sirius asked.

'Just Dumbledore and his usual "I'm the errand boy" stuff - don't worry, nothing a whiskey won't
fix.'

'Brilliant then, because that's all I have. I went to the market on my way home – I remembered to
get tea but really I don't know what girls eat so I'll ask Hermione what she wants tomorrow; she's
asleep at the moment.'

Remus looked at him, 'Padfoot, girls are people – they eat food just like we do.'

'Yeah, I dunno; whiskey for planning seemed more important,' Sirius said with a cheerful shrug.

'You're awfully … bouncy tonight,' Remus said as he sat on the couch, shedding his coat and
throwing it on the laundry pile to visit with its fellows.

Sirius was now busy dragging a crate of old muggle records across the room to serve as a table;
leaving the knee-high stack in front of Remus, he straightened up and went to the kitchen to
retrieve his grocery shopping: a bottle of Ogden's, two huge bags of crisps and a packet of fags. He
was quite looking forward to being able to smoke inside again; Hermione's balcony had been
convenient enough except that he'd always had to ask her to open the door so he could go out – like
a dog she'd reminded him often enough – and he had to deal with the look of disapproval she gave
him every time he lit up, but she never actually said anything so he didn't stop. And besides,
smoking was cool. 'Yeah well, why not? Lots to be happy about,' he said as he flopped down onto
the floor next to the record table and unpacked his supplies.

'Because the last time I saw you were worried about living arrangements and having a sullen
houseguest,' Remus said swiping one of the bags of crisps and popping the foil packet.

Sirius shrugged. 'I fixed it,' he said proudly, remembering how he had been looking forward to
telling Remus this.
'Did you?' his friend asked, Sirius could tell he didn't really believe him; he probably thought
Hermione was still crying and Sirius had just shut her away with a silencing charm on the room so
he didn't have to deal with it.

'Yup, one hundred percent fixed. No more drama.' He said as he opened the whiskey bottle and
realised he hadn't brought any glasses from the kitchen. He got to his feet again, leaving the quietly
stunned Remus sitting on the sofa.

'So you got Hermione to stop being thinking she's an idiot then?' Remus asked when he'd returned
with two mismatched glasses of dubious cleanliness.

'Well Moony,' Sirius said expansively, like he was the wisest man on earth, or at least the wisest
man sitting on his gritty floor and pouring out drinks, 'it turns out that that wasn't really the
problem.'

'Really? That was what she told me, or what I could get out of her anyway,' Remus said as he
accepted his glass and sat back against the sofa.

'Really. She thinks she has to leave now - Moody said so too, something about muggles chasing
her forever - but that's why she was all weird,' Sirius's grin widened again, 'because she thinks she
ruined her chances of staying, and she really wants to.'

Remus raised his eyebrows, 'She finally admitted it then? I feel less like a kidnapper now.'

Sirius nodded, 'She even gave me a wee kiss on the neck because I was so nice and helpful.'

'A kiss on the neck?' Remus snorted, 'I know you've had some interesting romantic encounters but
who ever heard of a kiss on the neck to say thank you?'

Sirius laughed, 'it didn't seem so weird at the time but when you say it out loud… you have a point.'
He thought about it for a moment before saying, 'Nah, we were lying down, it was more of a
mechanics issue than anything else.'

Remus gave him a shrewd look, 'And is that all she gave you?'

'Get your wolfy mind out of the gutter.' Sirius chuckled.

'Fine, I'm still coming to grips with this new Padfoot full of unending patience – I will say though
that this is the only time you've ever had a time limit, why did you pick now to give it go?'

'The world is full of time limits my friend,' Sirius said in his wise-man voice, deciding to open the
second bag of crisps since Remus had commandeered the other, 'and when you think about it, this
is situation is lacking one because you and I are going to figure something out and we'll live
happily ever after.

'Wow, how much have you had to drink?'

'This is my first. Why?' Sirius asked leaning back on his elbows to look at Remus in confusion.

'Because you sound like you're talking about marriage,' Remus said giving him an odd look, 'and I
know you haven't changed that much.'

'Gross, happily ever after does not mean marriage,' Sirius said, with a shudder at the very idea,
'how dare you use such filthy words in my house? I just mean we'll, you know … carry on.'
'Hmm.' Remus still had that strange look on his face, almost like concern. 'Does she know that's
what's happening?'

'Hermione doesn't want to get married,' Sirius said before he drained his glass, winced slightly
when the mouthful was larger than expected, and sat up to pour another.

Remus choked on his drink, 'You've talked about it?' he sputtered 'Christ! I was only gone a few
hours - what the hell!'

Sirius was laughing, 'No! I mean in general, we've talked about marriage as a … I don't know –
like as a concept I guess – months ago! She asked me why Lily and James got married so young,
you know Harry does too, to a red head no less, from what Hermione said she's heaps like Lily, bit
scary when cross and all that. Hermione said then that she'd been with Harry's mate for three years
and never wanted to get married … didn't see the point.'

'Oh right,' Remus said, looking less shocked and holding out his glass for a refill, 'that makes
sense.'

'Unless there were kids she said, save the bother of having a Mum with a different name,' he added
as he dutifully filled the glass under his nose.

'Things must be different in the future,' Remus mused. 'Can you imagine any of the girls we went
to school with not wanting to get married?'

'Ha, nope,' Sirius said. The idea of a wedding seemed to be the one and only goal of most of the
girls he'd known, though maybe the girls he'd known weren't the best measuring stick. 'But then
she's not like them,' he said thankfully.

'Hmm,' Remus said again; he sounded worried.

'What?' Sirius asked defensively.

'Nothing,' the werewolf threw back his whiskey in three fast swallows and held his glass out again
'so this polyjuice thing …'

'Moony, I didn't know better I'd say you are trying to get drunk,' Sirius said, smiling. He might only
have been halfway through his second drink but he could already feel the wonderful warmth
spreading through him.

Remus shrugged. 'So what if I am – I'm the hero who saved your girl remember? The least you can
do is get me rat-arsed.' He shook the glass in front of Sirius again, who obliged him happily, as a
drunk Remus was always fun. 'So. Your plan?'

'Oh right! So I thought that with all the people disappearing Hermione could just claim someone
else's identity, like what if she just took over Meadowes's life?'

'Dorcas?' Remus asked frowning.

'Yeah, I mean her folks are gone too, and her brother travels all the time; I thought if Hermione just
took polyjuice –'

'Forever?' Remus said incredulously.

'Yeah, we could modify it, I dunno,' Sirius finished his drink and thought perhaps his purchase of
planning whiskey may not have been his most insightful decision, 'or yeah, she could just take it all
the time; it wouldn't be that hard.'

'But she wouldn't even look like Hermione anymore.' Remus's fingers did a drumroll on the sofa
arm as he tried to think of problems with this idea.

Sirius shrugged, 'I don't like her for how she looks, and anyway it would only have to be when she
was out in public.'

'You don't like her for how she looks?' Remus said incredulously. Sirius had a feeling that soon the
werewolf would be pointing his wand at him and asking who he really was; a kind patient man
who liked girls for their personalities was all well and good – but it wasn't Sirius Black.

''Well I do …' Sirius grinned 'great arse, but I'd rather keep her here – bum or not – besides if she
could be anyone …' he trailed off suggestively.

'Christ, Pads!' Remus said with a snigger, 'you tell me to get my mind out of the gutter.' His cheeks
were getting redder, and laughing at dirty jokes was a sure sign that Remus was well on his way to
whiskeyland.

Sirius chugged back his drink in an effort to join him and said 'Ha, yeah, I might have … er, grown
up but I'm not that different. You've got to agree though, great bum.'

'Padfoot, you do not get to call her my long lost daughter and then ask my opinion on her bum. That
is twisted.' Remus was still laughing.

'True … so who shall we pick then, what about McLyntop, you know she went missing years ago.'

'She's a bit old isn't she?' Remus said.

'Not really … Hermione could pull it off, besides with that rack….'

'Are you sure this isn't just some desire to get yourself a better looking girlfriend?' Remus was
laughing properly now, 'because if that's the case you always had a thing for Marlene.'

'It's really not, but McKinnon you say … not bad, Moony. That might work, we'd just have to
modify the Order members' memories and say the Death Eaters captured her or something,' he
paused before adding 'and Hermione's not even my girlfriend anyway, you should stop saying that,
she'll hear you one day.'

'In everything but name, Pads, everything but name.'

'And shagging,' Sirius said, flopping back onto the floor, regretregretting his speedy alcohol
consumption, 'but other than those two things I guess you're right … but then without shagging or
calling her my girlfriend doesn't that just mean she's just my friend?'

'Buggered if I know mate, the line is pretty bloody blurry from where I'm sitting,' Remus said. He
slid off the sofa so he could fill his glass again, then snickered and asked, 'Do friends kiss each
other on the neck to say thank you?'

'Does anyone?' Sirius asked, starting to laugh again. They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, or
maybe thoughtless silence was more apt if Sirius's cotton-wool brain was anything to go by. He lay
on the floor looking up at the watermarked ceiling; McKinnon was a good fit, and he knew
Marlene, she would approve of the things Hermione would do under her name.

Suddenly Remus's slightly slurred voice made him start. 'Shit! Padfoot – this won't work.'
'Yes it will,' Sirius said peacefully still gazing at the ceiling, 'We just need to –'

'No Pads it won't, you can only make polyjuice doubles from living people.'

Sirius turned his head to look at his friend and saw Remus was lying down too, head pillowed on
the washing pile, Sirius felt all the certainty drain out of him. 'Oh fuck it,' he grumbled, reaching up
to the record table to bring the whiskey nearer, to drown yet another failed plan. 'How is it that you
failed potions and I got an O and you're the one that remembers shit like that? Damn it.'

'Dunno mate, sorry.' Remus said consolingly, 'Don't worry, we'll think of something. I had an idea
today; the passport thing made me think of it, but I need to do a bit of background first.'

'Okay,' Sirius said. 'or we could still just smash the Timeturner; it's here now, I'm sure I could find
it.'

Remus didn't answer, just reached out an arm to take the bottle of Ogden's from Sirius's grip, and
took a swig from the bottle.

Silence fell again. Sirius was disappointed in himself for not realising that obvious flaw, maybe
they could use someone alive … deciding he could not make any headway while his brain was
being pickled he said, 'What about you Moony - any stories to tell?'

'What sort of stories?'

'I don't know, romantic trysts with dental students?'

'You know there aren't Pads,' he said as he passed the bottle back. 'I don't want to lie anymore, But
if I don't, they scream - and not in a good way.'

'Deep,' Sirius said, but he felt bad for his friend. Remus was possibly the most thoughtful person
Sirius had ever met; he always put what was best for other people's happiness before his own - isn't
that what every girl wanted in a man?

'That's why I want Hermione to stay,' Remus said quietly.

'What?' Sirius said turning his head to look at him, surely not, Moony would never –

'God you're insecure,' Remus laughed. 'Because of her work with magical creature stuff? I dunno -
in a few years maybe I will have someone. And if I can work a proper job then…' he shrugged, 'the
whole world can't be that bigoted right?'

'Course not, Moony mate,' Sirius said bracingly, 'there's some open minded skirt out there waiting
for you.' As Sirius said these words he had a sudden flashing memory of Hermione sitting at the
dining table in her hotel room, telling him that Remus got married.

Remus scoffed next to him on the floor, 'Ever the optimist you are.'

'No, really!' Sirius said sitting up, 'There really is!' The room spun a little but he ignored it, turning
his wavering vision on his friend. 'You're going to get married, Hermione said. Not till like - I can't
remember…' he drummed at his forehead with his fingers, 'After I die… when do I die Moony?'

'This is the most fucked conversation ever,' Remus said still swigging on the bottle.

'No!' Sirius insisted, 'She said you have a son. He's born while she's on her mission … hold on.' He
lay back on the floor – complicated future maths, whiskey, and being upright did not mix. 'I die in
her fifth year … and her seventh is when they go on the hunt, so death by drapes to me in '96 –'

Remus sniggered, 'that is so shameful Padfoot, at least I'm killed in the famous final battle.'

'You were right, this is the most fucked conversation ever,' Sirius grumbled as he lost his train of
thought, 'shut up, my brain can't compete with your nonsense, so '96 …. Then Horcrux hunting two
years later, so you must get married in '97 - unless you knock her up and it's a rush job, then it
could be '98,' Sirius finished proudly, snatching the bottle back and glugging a mouthful down - it
was so nice how after half a bottle it didn't burn at all anymore.

'Really?' Remus said looking over at him, 'To who?'

'Hermione wouldn't say … she said we knew her though … or I know her,'

'I would hope that I would know her,' Remus said with a chuckle, 'being my wife and all.'

'Yeah,' Sirius said seriously, not quite getting that his friend was joking, 'that's a good point. You
must know her.'

'So I only have to wait another, what … sixteen years then, aye?' Remus said some of the happiness
leaving his voice.

Sirius grimaced 'Trust you to make it sound shit. Maybe you'll meet her sooner without Snakey
about.'

'Maybe,' Remus said quietly.

Sirius didn't really know what to say, so he went back to looking at the ceiling. He really ought to
do something about the stains; he'd never really noticed them before, as it wasn't like he routinely
lay on the floor of his sitting room. Sirius didn't know how much time had passed as he stared
upwards; the light was casting shadows across the swirling blotchy marks and he started to see
patterns in them... he wasn't sure if it was his whiskey head or not but every time he blinked they
would look a little different. Deciding it was definitely his boozed state, Sirius wondered if he
should sleep out here tonight; Hermione might think it a bit on the nose if she woke up and found
he'd put her in bed with him... maybe just for tonight he would sleep on the sofa – at least his was
long enough to sleep on, and comfortable, unlike the horror he'd put up with in the hotel. Sirius's
eyes were closed as he began to wonder if Hermione would want to stay living here after
Hallowe'en. It wasn't like she had had anywhere else to go, and she hadn't said anything about its
obvious dodgyness but he didn't think it would be her kind of place. Sirius had just realised he
hadn't even enjoyed the freedom of smoking inside, when Remus's low voice interrupted his
drunken thoughts.

'Padfoot?'

'Mmm?' Sirius mumbled, wondering if he would even make it to the sofa. The floor was perfectly
adequate, and his cigarettes were within arms reach.

'Are you nervous about Halloween?'

'Terrified, you?'

'Same.'

The two men were asleep side by side on the on the sitting room floor when the grey owl swooped
into the room. Zoff dropped the black envelope on his master's chest, getting no response the bird
nipped sharply at his drunken master's ear and hooted loudly, his master half opened an eye and
muttered 'No reply birdy,' before rolling onto his side.

The black envelope with the Toujours Pur seal slid from Zoff's master's chest as the man let out a
peaceful snore.
 Truth

8th October

Sirius woke stiff-necked and sore the morning following his botched planning session with Remus.
He didn't move from the floor because he feared the light clatter of clanking goblins in his head
would intensify if he sat up and interrupted their hard work; they were obviously trying to get past
the miniature dragon that guarded the inner recesses of his brain, and would no doubt clank all the
noisier if he subjected them to the earthquake he would cause by sitting up.

He lay still, listening to Remus's snores coming from somewhere to his left; neither of them had
stirred enough in the night to move to the sofa, but the werewolf seemed to be perfectly happy to
sleep on the floor. Suddenly there were footsteps reverberating through the floorboards below his
ear and the goblins rattled their clankers a little threateningly. Hermione's voice said, 'You've
stopped snoring – does that mean you're awake?'

'Not at all,' he grumbled.

'You need to consider it,' she said, 'it's seven o'clock – time to move.' Something nudged his
shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Hermione standing over him, her foot poised for another toe
prod. 'Come on,' she said, 'you don't want Moody turning up and discovering you comatose on the
floor next to an empty whiskey bottle.'

'He only hunts at lunchtime,' Sirius said, but he sat up anyway. The goblins did protest, but not too
badly.

'Here,' Hermione said, leaning over his hunched form and putting a plate he hadn't noticed her
holding on the record table he was sitting beside, 'breakfast – bacon sandwiches are the only cure
I'm told.' Then she threw a plastic pill sheet next to the plate and said, 'But these help even more.'

Sirius stared at the miraculous sandwiches, his mouth watering; he snatched one, devouring it in
two bites. Why had he worried about living with a girl? He thought as he swallowed, It was the
most perfect thing ever. 'Hang on,' he said, second bread and bacon wonder already halfway to his
mouth, 'where did you get food?'

Hermione sat down on the floor next to him, picked up a sandwich of her own and said, 'The shop
around the corner. I know I'm not supposed to go out, but I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning
and I woke up at half four, absolutely ravenous. I guess that's what happens when you fall asleep at
five in the evening. Or I'm surprised my stomach rumbling didn't wake you up to be honest, I think
the walls were shaking.'

Sirius frowned at her. 'You went out in the dark, alone, just to get bacon? Why didn't you wake
me? I would have gone.' He probably wouldn't have, he thought, he most likely would have said
"Sod off, I'm sleeping," but she wasn't to know that, and she was supposed to be staying hidden.

'It was fine,' she said airily, 'the shop is only round the corner and I wore my hood, there was
hardly anyone around. And besides, I was starving and people do desperate things for food.' She
grinned at him and took a bite of her sandwich. 'How is it that you managed to get whiskey and
crisps but not even bread?' she asked once she had swallowed, sounding amused.

'They seemed important at the time,' Sirius said with a shrug, glad that she seemed to find it
endearing rather than selfish that he thought alcohol was more important than her starving to death.
'I did remember tea at least.'

'Yes I saw that,' she snorted. 'Congratulations. I got some milk this morning to go with it.'

'Thanks. I've got to say, you're off to a promising start as tenant – breakfast delivery is always
appreciated.' It really was, he thought as he started on his third sandwich.

She smiled at him, 'You forget, I lived with a man for three years; I know the value of a well-
placed bacon sandwich.'

'Did you have to deliver it to him on the floor too?' Sirius asked, even though he generally avoided
the topic of Ginger like the plague.

'No, you're special,' she said with a little laugh. 'Floor cuisine was not common in our house. But
we were both at work all the time, and he was always in and out going to see the family, so we
didn't eat together very often.' Her eyes were on her food, and her voice lost its cheeriness as she
added, 'Didn't do anything together very often, actually.'

Sirius did not want to talk about Ginger, but she looked sad, sitting there pulling little bits of bacon
out of the bread and nibbling at them forlornly, so with huge self-sacrifice he said, 'That must have
been hard, you'd think he would have made the effort.'

'It was at first, well, the whole time really,' she said, 'but I was researching for coming here so it
wasn't all his fault.'

Sirius didn't know what to say so he munched on his sandwich and looked away. His eyes followed
Remus's snores and he saw that his friend had morphed into a slumbering pile of laundry
overnight: he still had legs, but the rest of him was nothing but t-shirts, trousers and one set of
ministry robes. Sirius grinned and before he had even thought, he asked Hermione, 'Are you glad
you came? You know, when you thought you'd be going back to everything changed and you
wouldn't know him anymore – I mean you lived with him, you must have been –'

'Sirius,' she cut him off, 'I don't really want to talk about this.'

'Thank Merlin,' Sirius said with relief. 'My understanding skills are all tapped out after yesterday.'

'Bacon?' grunted the laundry pile, and suddenly there were clothes flying in every direction as
Remus sat up.

Both Hermione and Sirius burst into a fit of giggles as Remus sniffed the air in a very canine way, a
lone sock perched on his shoulder. His bleary morning eyes found the sandwiches and a speedy
hand shot out to grab one. 'I want to live with a girl,' he mumbled through his mouthful as he
collapsed backwards, half-disappearing into the laundry once more.

'Sirius,' Hermione said, still giggling at Remus who was now sighing in contentment from the
depths of the pile, 'you have a letter stuck to your back.'

'I do?' Sirius twisted his head around in a futile attempt to see what she was talking about.

She laughed and plucked it from him; the wax seal had melted slightly against his warmth as he
had lain on it all night, and it didn't want to part company with his t-shirt. Hermione handed him
the black envelope, and he recognised his grandfather's neat hand; breaking the slightly fuzz-
covered wax, he opened the letter.

Sirius,
I am sorry to send bad news by owl but I felt you should know immediately.

Rabastan lost consciousness this afternoon; Healer Bethnal has done everything he could but
unfortunately it was too late. Rabastan died at 10.45 this evening …

Sirius's hand began to shake and he couldn't read any further. But Rab was getting better, a voice in
the back of his brain screamed. Bethnal's potion worked, he was getting better and talking and
eating and they'd played chess… this couldn't be right, Rab couldn't have died from a kick in the
guts - a trick by the Death Eaters? Bethnal was supposed to know what he was doing… Rab was
getting better.

'Sirius?' Hermione's voice sounded so far away. Rab couldn't be dead. 'Sirius, what is it?' She was
next to him now, reading the letter in his shaking hand, 'Oh,' she gasped, and then her arm was
around his shoulders, 'Sirius, are you …'

He wasn't really listening to her; he didn't know what was happening. He had been eating a bacon
sandwich and laughing at Moony and now Rab was dead? That wasn't right.

'Sirius,' Hermione said again he twisted toward her, hoping she would tell him he'd read it wrong,
that this was a joke – anything, but her eyes were watery and she said, 'I'm so sorry.' Then he was
being hugged tightly and she was saying into his ear, 'You should owl Moody, you're not going in
today. I'm not sure of all the procedures, but we need to go to Grimmauld Place; Mr Lestrange may
have come to collect him already, but Loretta and the children will need help. Remus, what can we
do?' she asked as Sirius shook himself from her grip and stood up. His slight hangover made him
sway but he turned and left the room quickly. Shower, his stunned brain said, shower, then go and
find out why Grandfather would send such a ridiculous letter.

The yew wand twirled impatiently in his long, pale fingers. How he despised waiting! How anyone
dared keep him waiting was beyond him; they should know the consequences by now. The heavy
grey sky was lightening steadily out the window and the white tapers in the candelabrum on the
small table next to his chair were more than half burnt - how much longer would she risk his
wrath?

'My Lord,' a quiet urgent voice said as the door to the room was pushed open.

Thirty nine minutes, completely unacceptable. 'You are very late Bellatrix,' he said. 'I hope you
bring satisfying news.'

'I do, My Lord,' she whispered as she approached him. 'The cup is safe; I knew he would not touch
it.'

'You saw it with your own eyes?'

'Yes My Lord, I saw it. The traitor was only in the vault because he was instructed to attend to the
inheritance schedule, but as your possession was not on that list it was never in danger.'

The anger simmering inside him receded slightly at her words. His treasure still resided in the
building he had been in such awe of as a child, and it was safe. How he wished he could see it for
himself - the ancient cup, secure amongst the grandeur of wizarding history. It was fitting that
Gringotts should have the honour of holding it. He turned his eyes on the woman before him. 'And
the traitor? You assured me he would die from his injuries, but unless it is being kept from us he
still lives.'

'It will not be long My Lord, I have seen to that.' Bellatrix assured him.
'So you say Bella,' he hissed, looking with disdain at her expression - her face showed longing, the
desire for approval, for acceptance. 'But yet, he lives.'

'It has not yet been a week my Lord,' she pleaded, 'I am sure my father in-law will receive the news
soon. I have not seen Rodolphus since yesterday; I fear he is aware of my hand in this.'

'That is not my concern,' he said dismissively. 'Your arm, Bella.' She extended her left arm eagerly,
pushing the sleeve of her robe up to expose the beautiful mark there, the mark of his strength, his
ownership of these lesser people, his power over them. He pressed his finger to the skull and
snake; it did not escape his notice that Bellatrix closed her eyes in pleasure at his touch, at the burn
it caused her. She was weak to succumb to such things, but her devotion was useful, so he said
softly as he removed his finger, 'Thank you Bellatrix, there are few I can trust like you.'

'Thank you My Lord,' she breathed, 'thank you.'

'Go and receive the others Bella; I want them prepared for my arrival.' She nodded and turned,
leaving him alone.

The cup was secure, he thought, so the first of his concerns was dealt with. But there was
something else - the Fehr girl. How he wished for a firm hold in Europe, and she could deliver it,
but that was not the end of his interest in her.

Voldemort was grateful for many things - his own determination, the fear he caused amongst the
wizarding community, the way that fear fumbled their attempts to silence him - but what he prized
above all else were the brave enemies he had, and the way they were determined to not seem afraid
in his presence. It was a gift, to have them look into his eyes willingly so he could take what he
wanted.

The Fehr girl, she was a danger to him. If Black had not been so foolishly cocky as to meet his
eyes, the Auror might have kept this secret. But he had not, and while it was true that a tortured
mind is not the easiest to extract coherent information from, there had been some clues. Mainly it
was concern for her safety that was written in his weak mind, but it was the undercurrent of why
she needed to be kept safe that interested Voldemort. Black thought Fehr was a challenge against
Voldemort. How she could be, he could not pinpoint while the mind was clouded with pain and
emotion.

It irked him still that Black's attitude had caused him to withdraw from the room to prevent himself
killing the insolent boy on the spot; if the traitor had not helped Black escape, Voldemort would
have soon gotten everything he needed, but he could not dwell on lost opportunities. He had feared
for an awful moment that that his treasures were in danger – the traitor had been so near one of
them - but he knew Bellatrix was telling the truth. He always knew. His treasures were safe, and
Voldemort could not see how the Fehr girl could possibly harm him, but Black had been so sure, so
she would be eliminated.

Hermione was worried as Sirius tapped his wand to the door of number twelve. They had left his
flat in a whirl of confusion, Hermione dressing in the first Fehr-appropriate dress she could find
and pinning her un-smoothed hair up in the hope that the eighties fashion would help pass it off as
stylish, rather than haphazard. She had her cloak on over her light frock – for some reason Remus
had piled all her dresses at the very bottom of the suitcase, and the first undamaged one she found
was the summery green one she had worn to the first pureblood tea meeting – but the October
morning chill still seeped through.

Sirius was pale-faced and disoriented; he hadn't seemed to have heard anything she said since he
had opened the letter from his grandfather. Without waiting to be greeted, Sirius opened the door
and marched into the house, headed towards the bedroom Rabastan had been recovering in.
Although she really did not want to see Rabastan's body, Hermione followed him up the staircase,
and was quite grateful when someone said her name just as she paused on the landing one floor
below the death room.

'Hermione?' It was Walburga, standing in the doorway to her parlour. Her long hair was loose and
she was obviously only half dressed for the day; her stockinged feet showed at the bottom of the
fine plain linen robe she wore beneath her day clothes.

'Good morning Mrs Black,' Hermione said, unsure whether the woman would be angry at the
informality of their visit, 'Sorry to come in uninvited, Sirius is …' she turned to see that Sirius had
not stopped and was already on the floor above.

'I thought he would be upset,' Walburga said, seemingly unembarrassed to be seen in a state of
undress. 'My son has always cared too much. Has he gone up to see the body?'

Hermione was unsettled by the coolness in Walburga's voice. 'Yes Mrs Black.'

'Then why don't you come in, we can have a cup of tea while we wait.' She gestured into the
parlour and took a step back inside. 'My father is up there, with Loretta and the children; he will
deal with Sirius.'

Hermione obeyed, and sat in one of the chairs next to the small round table, but thought to herself
that Sirius did not need to be dealt with. He needed - well, she wasn't sure what he needed, but
Pollox was a lot more understanding than Walburga so maybe it was best for him to talk to Sirius.

'I see I am not the only one unprepared this morning,' Walburga said as she joined Hermione at the
table. Hermione had removed her cloak and was sitting in her short sleeved summer dress.

'Yes, we left in quite a hurry - I did not have time to find something more appropriate.'

'That is understandable, though it is probably best you do not greet the Lestranges in such frivolous
attire. How fortunate for you.'

'Fortunate, Mrs Black?' Hermione asked.

'I know I shouldn't say such things, but I find myself very uncomfortable around mourning people;
they often forget to show the proper decorum. I have been dressing for the last hour to put off the
inevitable.'

Hermione was shocked that someone could be so callous, but then reminded herself that this was
Walburga Black and thought it pointless to argue, so she asked instead, 'What happened Mrs
Black? I thought Rabastan was recovering.'

'He was,' Walburga said, and then broke off as Kreacher appeared at her side, half hidden by an
armful of dark silk robes.

'Mistress these are from the attic, perhaps they will meet your needs.'

'Kreacher, I have company. Leave the robes and bring us tea.'

The elf took the bundle of fabric through the door to Walburga's sleeping quarters and returned to
bow to the ladies, 'Good morning Miss Fehr, please to excuse my rudeness,' he croaked in his deep
voice before he vanished with another resounding CRACK.
'It seems as though someone was very aware that Rabastan would receive medical treatment for his
injuries,' Walburga said as though there had been no interruption. 'Healer Bethnal says that this is a
clever murder, quite untraceable.'

'I don't understand Mrs Black.' Hermione said honestly.

'Do you know much of potions Hermione?' Walburga asked,

'Of some,' she said warily, not liking the direction this was going in.

'You see, the tincture given to patients suffering from internal injuries is very exact,' Walburga
said, 'it works on everything except heart failure, but the reason it didn't help Rabastan is that prior
to his assault he ingested an odd, and specific mixture that reacted with it.'

'But surely Healer Bethnal was aware of such a possibility - why didn't he find it sooner?'
Hermione said, thinking that he was supposed to be an expert in healing, plus his forte was potions.
It seemed very strange that he would not think of such a thing.

CRACK, 'Tea, Mistress,' Kreacher said, depositing the silver service on the small table and
vanishing quickly in the usual fashion.

'Because the mixture was a potion only pregnant women take,' Walburga said, once again
completely ignoring her house elf, 'vitamins and things to keep the baby strong, and a protection.
None of the ingredients in it are poisonous so they didn't show up when Healer Bethnal checked
for toxins; but because it prevents anything foreign from entering the area usually occupied by a
fetus, the tincture – a mild poison – was not able to get through.'

'Why on earth would Rabastan be taking a potion for pregnant women?' Hermione asked,
completely confused, as she poured a cup of tea for Walburga and then herself.

Walburga received the fine china cup with a smile of thanks and said, 'Hermione, he wasn't.
Someone gave it to him, knowing that he would be beaten, and in the abdomen, too. I have a
feeling his escape from Fort de Sang was not luck, but planned. His attackers believed him a traitor
who helped my son – why have they not come looking for him here?' She took a sip from her cup
and placed it on the saucer. Hermione's mind was reeling as Walburga continued in her theory.
'Surely they would have thought him capable of getting treatment and surviving his injuries; the
tincture Bethnal used is well-known enough, and quite effective. I have been thinking about it all
week. They let him get away so that he would get to a healer, receive the tincture and die a more
painful drawn out death – much more suitable for a traitor than a mere beating.'

She did have a point, Hermione thought - even Sirius had said at the time he was surprised
Rabastan had managed to get out of there alive. 'But he was beaten up by the men, wasn't he?'
Hermione asked. 'How would they have a potion for pregnant women?'

'He may have been attacked by the men, but I know Bellatrix had some of the potion,' Walburga
said, with a small regretful shake of her head, 'because I gave it to her. She and her husband have
been trying to conceive for the last ten years. Black women have trouble carrying full term and this
potion is necessary - Narcissa would have lost Draco without it, and I'm sure it was the only reason
I was able to bear my sons. It is one of the few problems with being pure – our blood is strong, but
the faults increase with every generation. I am so pleased Sirius has you; your children will be
strong and pure without intensifying the Black characteristics.'

Hermione was quite taken aback that Walburga was speaking so openly about these things, to her
especially, though of course Mrs Black had no idea exactly how much new blood Hermione "Fehr"
would be bringing to the family. Suddenly the oddity of weighing the merits and downsides to
incest flew from her mind, as she remembered something one of Rab's daughters had said - "she
told the men to hurt father" - Bellatrix had done this to her own brother in-law? Deliberately,
apparently, though Hermione wondered how long she had been planning it. 'When did you give
Bellatrix the potion, Mrs Black?'

'Not two weeks ago,' Walburga said, 'she came for a visit unannounced. I now realise she had
wanted to look for my brooch again, but at the time she told me that with Sirius's return and the
likelihood of him extending the family she felt she should do her part too. I was very surprised -
she never spoke of such things after her father died, and especially since Narcissa had Draco - but
of course I told her everything I knew. Her own mother is long since passed, and she has no one to
get feminine advice from, and no matter the derangement of their mother, more pureblood children
are exactly what our community needs.'

'Mrs Black,' Hermione said a little shocked that Walburga would speak of her niece in such a way,
'I'm sure Bella would make a very good mother.'

'Hermione you needn't pretend - I know the woman is unhinged. Surely you have not forgotten that
she had my son tortured!'

Of course Hermione hadn't forgotten, but she was so used to the act of being proper pureblooded
Miss Fehr, unaware of Bellatrix's true nature; in her head, Sirius's kidnapping was so wound up in
the Horcrux mission that it had slipped Hermione's mind that Walburga knew mostly what had
happened. 'Of course, Mrs Black, I just didn't want to be rude,' she said quickly, trying to cover her
slip-up.

There was a knock at the door, and Sirius's voice said, 'Mother? May I come in?'

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption, as Walburga called him in.

Sirius was still pale, but the confusion was gone, replaced by anger. Hermione could see the grey
eyes flashing as he fought to keep his expression neutral. He nodded at his mother and then held
his hand out to Hermione, saying, 'I need to talk to you.' He pulled her to her feet and added, 'Please
excuse us, Mother,' as he led Hermione from the room.

Sirius tugged her along in silence, down two flights of stairs, across the entrance hall and down the
narrow staircase to the kitchen. It wasn't until he'd pushed the door closed behind them that he
turned to look at her, meeting her eyes briefly before scanning the room – no doubt making sure
they were alone - and asked in a low, strained voice, 'Did Mother tell you?'

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'it was Bellatrix.'

Sirius shifted his weight uneasily and nodded, then perched himself on top of the wooden table that
stood by the fireplace; his feet rested on the seat of a chair and his arm stretched out awkwardly in
front of him as he had still not released Hermione's hand. He looked at her again, no longer
seeming angry, but almost scared - but that wasn't it exactly. Hermione looked at him in concern;
she couldn't quite pick out his expression - guilt perhaps? 'Is that what you wanted to talk to me
about - Bellatrix?' she asked.

'Yes.' Then he shook his head. 'Not really,' he amended awkwardly. 'I just couldn't be around them
anymore, I couldn't stand their … I,' he took a quick breath, and said in a pained whisper,
'Hermione, this is all my fault.'

She looked at him in surprise, and took a step closer to tighten her grip on his hand. 'What do you
mean? You got the only healer who would come; you did everything you could.'

'No,' Sirius said miserably; his shoulders were hunched and he was staring at their clasped hands
where they were now resting on his knee. 'I mean he wouldn't have been hurt in the first place if it
wasn't for me. … his kids, his wife - they blame me. I escaped, the Death Eaters thought he helped
me because we were mates. Hermione, if I hadn't talked to him… all for the stupid cup… I –,' he
swallowed audibly, 'I as good as killed him.'

The phrase fell oddly on Hermione's ears but she couldn't think why. 'Sirius,' she said softly,
putting her free hand on his shoulder, 'you did no such thing, Bellatrix did.' He was squeezing her
hand very tight and his head was down, a sure sign of Sirius in internal-struggle mode. 'Hey,' she
said gently, 'I know he was your friend. It wasn't just for the cup, I know that. He was a good man
– just trying to protect his family.'

Sirius gave a jerky little nod. Hermione stood quietly, waiting for him to say something. She wasn't
too worried, this was how he acted when upset: silence while he thought it out, followed by a
cigarette – either for meditative purposes or maybe he was just trying to speed his death along so
he wouldn't have to deal with the problem at all – and then, after silent smoking, he would talk. As
Sirius was not allowed to smoke in the kitchen of his mother's house, Hermione hoped he would
just move on to the third step, but when it seemed as though he wouldn't speak after all, she hopped
up onto the table to sit beside him. 'Sirius,' she said quietly, 'would you rather die, or spend your
life in Azkaban?'

He turned his head to look at her, a crease between his eyebrows and total confusion in his eyes at
the irrelevance of her question , but the absurdity of it seemed to cajole him into speech. 'Are those
my only options?'

'Yes,' she said.

'Then death,' he said softly, looking at his knees once more.

'That's what I thought,' Hermione said, breathing an internal sigh of relief that he hadn't said prison.
'I never told you this because I knew he was your friend – but I think you'll feel better knowing
what you have saved him from.'

'Saved,' Sirius repeated with derision.

'Yes.' Hermione said firmly, 'He, Rodolphus, Bellatrix and Barty Crouch Jr are sentenced to life in
Azkaban this winter. The only reason they saw daylight again is because Voldemort broke his
supporters out of the prison when he returned.'

'Yeah well,' Sirius muttered, his thumb tracing unconscious circles on the back of her hand, 'he
wouldn't have gone to prison in the first place this time round would he?'

'If he hadn't had you telling him he was doing the right thing by not joining, then he would have.'
Hermione wasn't sure of much at the moment, but when it came to Rabastan, the only thing that
might veer his path in life away from joining the Death Eaters was Sirius's support. 'Can I tell you
why he was sent there?'

'For being a Death Eater?' Sirius suggested dully.

'Yes, but it's worse than that,' she said. This if anything should convince Sirius that Rab was better
off now. 'They - the Lestrange's and Crouch - hunted down Frank and Alice Longbottom and
tortured them into insanity; they were looking for information on Voldemort after he fell. So you
can't say you didn't save Rab.'

'Frank?' Sirius said aghast.

'Yes, the Longbottoms spend the rest of their lives in the closed ward in St Mungo's. They were
living there when I met them in 1995 - Neville introduced us, if you can call it that.' Sirius didn't
seem to be able to comment on this, and Hermione thought that perhaps it was sinking in that his
friend was better off away from that lot, even if he had to die to do it. 'Neville was raised by his
grandmother,' she went on, 'He visited his parents in hospital, but every time he saw them he had to
see what the Death Eaters did to them. You can't tell me the Rabastan who was your friend would
want to torture fellow purebloods into such a state.'

Finally he spoke. 'I guess if it's one less to help them find Frank that's a good thing.'

'That's right,' she said, 'and his family might blame you now, but just think, after Hallowe'en … his
children can grow up thinking their dad died to save the man who would help defeat Voldemort …
don't you think they'll be a bit proud of him for that?'

'But no one will know I helped with Voldemort,' Sirius said, and even though his words were
doubtful Hermione could hear a hint of the usual pride in his tone again.

Why hadn't she thought of this straight away? Reminding him why he'd befriended Rabastan in the
first place – not just for the cup, but for the death of Riddle and saving Lily and James's lives.
'Won't they?' she asked with a squeeze of his hand, 'The wizarding world's rumour mill is famous
Sirius, it will get out. Maybe not how you were involved, but you will always be associated with
his downfall.'

She could only see the side of his face as he continued to stare at his knees but the corner of his
mouth turned up, and he said in an almost normal voice, 'You mean we will be. You're staying,
remember.'

Hermione's stomach performed an odd little backflip at the sight of him dragged out of his guilt by
the idea of her staying. She still found it a bit hard to believe that this stupidly handsome and clever
man was willing to go to such lengths for her, that it would mean so much to him – but she did
believe it. She really wanted to offer to help him find a solution to the problem of her living here,
but she worried that he would take it as an insult, like she didn't trust him to do it; the thing was
that after a week of telling herself he wouldn't be able to, the tiny little voice in her brain that had
whispered "but what if?" was now almost louder than her doubts.

Her reasoning, however, was as annoyingly sound as ever, and it couldn't be overlooked. 'I do want
to,' she said, 'but I still don't really see how – not with the muggles after me as much as the Death
Eaters. I hadn't told you before about the Longbottoms, but honestly I'm quite frightened that when
it gets out what we've done, it will be us instead of them that Bellatrix comes after - especially
when Voldemort is killed at the Potters. They will put it together.' She paused and looked at him,
resolutely staring at his knees. 'And as much as … you know,' she leaned against him and squeezed
his hand 'this thing, whatever it is, would be wonderful – I couldn't just stay and hide. Making your
house habitable might be a mammoth task at the moment but it won't keep me entertained for the
rest of my life, and you really shouldn't have to support me.'

'I could move to a bigger house,' he said quietly, entirely missing the point, 'a huge one, full of
mess. I'm sure it would keep you going for a couple of years until all of this has died down. It will
die down.' He was smiling properly now, but when he turned his head to look at her she could still
see that odd undercurrent of sadness or guilt or regret or something that absolutely didn't belong in
the face of her friend.
'Sirius, I would be so unhappy – I know that's selfish, but I don't want to be dependent - and you
deserve freedom too. What if you get bored?' she asked, voicing for the first time a fear that
plagued her above all others. 'I would hate to think I was keeping you trapped with me out of guilt.'

'I wouldn't,' he muttered, looking away again, 'get bored I mean.'

'You don't know that,' she said kindly, thinking that they might as well have this discussion now,
inappropriate situation or not. Hermione had never had the guts to raise the topic of a relationship
with him, but she knew she needed to. She glanced down at their entwined hands and smiled at the
familiar sight: his blunt, slightly dirty nails, the rough callous that ran along his index finger - she
didn't know what caused it but it was always there - a scar that crossed the skin between thumb and
first knuckle that Sirius insisted Remus gave him at a full moon, but had really come from a hot
saucepan in the Hogwarts kitchens in the middle of the night when he had been trying to prove to
James that he knew more about muggles than his pureblood friend.

Sirius was tapping his thumb and little finger together across the back of her hand, and she knew
from what seemed like long experience that this meant he was thinking. They had held hands right
since the beginning, when she had told him of Regulus that second night - it just seemed natural.
She probably should have figured it out then, she realized. It seemed so long ago now, had it really
only been four months?

Sirius was talking quietly and she realised with a jolt that she hadn't been listening. 'But no one ever
knows that,' he was saying, 'people get married with the idea they'll be together forever – how do
they know they won't get bored?'

'Well lots of them do,' she said slowly. Divorce probably wasn't as common now as it was in her
time, she thought. 'People get divorced, or they live apart, and I wouldn't be able to support myself
if you and I … um … got bored,' she finished sadly.

'So then you could go back, if you're really that sure it wouldn't work,' he said with a tiny grin in
his voice. 'I really don't see why you can't just stay a little bit longer. You know, see if it's worth it.'
He nudged her with a little twitch of his elbow into her side.

'Because it wouldn't be a real test,' Hermione said. She didn't want to be so negative but if they
were going to talk about this – even if it was weirdly while they sat on his mother's kitchen table
with Sirius's dead friend a few floors above them – she still wanted to do it right. 'Of course it
would be fine for a while, I mean we've basically lived together for four months, and I think you
know I'm not opposed to –,' she felt herself blush but pushed on bravely, 'well … cloak party and
the strumpet revelations sum it up pretty well - but I want to work, I want to do something with my
life. I couldn't just hide and be a housewife; it's not who I am, Sirius,' she finished, and she held her
breath. She expected him to tell her that it was simply a choice, that work really shouldn't be so
important, that he could support her.

Instead, to her surprise, he said, 'I know, it's awesome,' and gave her a relaxed and delighted smile.

'Really?' she said with relief.

'Yeah, Moony and I were talking about it last night.'

'You were talking about me being a housewife?' she asked, almost wanting to laugh – those two
had some strange conversations when they were drunk.

Sirius smirked. 'In a roundabout way. Just about how different it must be for you. All the girls we
went to school with, well, all they wanted were kids and a husband – I thought that's what all girls
wanted until I met you.'

'It's not that I don't want those things,' she said, smiling inwardly at the way he still seemed
surprised that there was more than one type of woman in the world, 'but there is plenty of time later
on. If I have children I want them growing up in a world that I have done my best to change.'

'Merlin,' he laughed quietly, 'if that's the case you could pop one out right now and be pretty
satisfied with yourself.'

'Satisfied? Try terrified… Not to mention immaculate conception and all that.'

He sniggered, 'Good point, I'm sure we could think of some way around that.'

She butted him with her shoulder. 'I thought you were sad.'

He exhaled heavily. 'I'm gutted that Rab is gone. It doesn't seem fair when he tried to do what was
right, but …' he paused and took another breath, 'But I think you're right in saying he would have
gone Azkaban in November if I hadn't been around. I talked him out of taking the mark not long
after we met, told him to hold off, give it a few months - I was hoping he could just get through
until Hallowe'en.'

'You never told me that,' Hermione said. 'You were a good friend to him, Sirius. Be sad that he's
gone, but not why. What are his family going to do?'

'Letty and the kids are going to live with her extended family in Belgium; Rab wanted to send the
children to Durmstrang anyway, part of his plan to distance from his family here. I'm glad they will
be safe. Maybe I should write to them after we kill Voldemort and tell them what happened, let
them know he helped defeat Snakey too, even if he didn't realise it at the time.' He paused, then
turned to look at her and said abruptly, 'Hermione, how to you know what to say all the time?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well it's just that no matter what, if I feel shit, you seem to spout off a few little sentences and I
feel better.' He smiled at her; his eyes were still touched with grief, but that was all. 'I don't know
how you do it; it's much harder than you make it look.'

'I'm magic,' she said as she leaned against him once more. 'And you were pretty good at it
yesterday – I was so worried you'd think I was stupid.'

'I would never. You, Miss Fehr, are the smartest bird I have ever met.'

Just then the door to the kitchen opened wide and Pollox was standing in the doorway. 'Sirius? I
would like a word.'

'Of course, Grandfather,' Sirius said, sliding off the table. 'When is Mr Lestrange arriving – do you
wish me to greet him with you?'

'They will be here before noon.' There was a sharp bite to his voice that Hermione hadn't heard
before, as he said, 'In the library if you would, Sirius.'

'Alright … just me?' Sirius asked uncertainly.

'I think that would be best.'

Sirius took the seat opposite his grandfather. Pollox had moved behind his desk when they had
entered the library, rather than sitting in the leather chairs that flanked the chess board – it felt
much more formal, and was making Sirius nervous. 'What is this about Grandfather?' he asked,
wondering how long Pollox had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen while he and
Hermione were talking.

Pollox met Sirius's polite inquiring expression with a steady gaze, and said in a cold voice, 'It is
about you and Miss Fehr, and the lies you have told me.'

He had been standing at the kitchen door long enough then, Sirius thought as his heart began to
race. 'Lies?' he asked, hoping he sounded confused and mildly offended. What exactly had his
grandfather overheard, and what exactly should he be confessing to?

'Yes,' Pollox said through his teeth, Sirius had not seen him look so angry since Sirius had called
him a bigoted old fool while storming from the house at the age of sixteen. 'Why did you not tell
me you have been working to kill the Dark Lord?'

'Er …' Sirius mumbled. He had tried so hard not to directly lie to his grandfather; they had differing
opinions on many topics, but Sirius respected the man and he was more of a father to him than
Orion had ever been, so he had avoided blatant untruths as much as possible.

Pollox's hazel eyes burned menacingly, and he hissed, 'Do not lie to me again, Sirius, not now. I
will not have it. I know you and Miss Fehr have been working for Dumbledore, she told me, but I
don't think she gave me the whole story. You are going to tell me. Everything.'

'Umm…' he couldn't, Walburga would murder Hermione on the spot if she found out her true blood
status. Though Pollox still seemed to think she was Miss Fehr … maybe a version of the truth,
then.

'Sirius!' Pollox's voice broke through his scrambling thoughts as he tried to piece together enough
information to satisfy his seething grandfather, 'You will tell me - I have let you back into this
house under the impression that you were dedicated to this family. Has it all been a lie? Are you
and Miss Fehr even a couple? It certainly didn't sound like it.'

'Grandfather,' Sirius said finally, 'it's not as bad as it seems.'

'It's not?' Pollox said in disbelief. 'I have a good mind to throw you out of here right now! How
could you betray us like this?'

'Betray you?' Sirius said, suddenly feeling his own temper rise. 'Are you saying you don't want
Voldemort dead?'

'That is not the point! You have weaseled your way back into this house for your own gain!'

'Hardly,' Sirius spat. 'It was for the good of the wizarding world.'

Pollox rose to his feet, and pointed to the door. 'Get out!' he growled. 'Walburga was right about
you all along.'

'No, please,' Sirius said, backtracking quickly, 'let me explain, Grandfather. You'll regret it if you
throw me out now – I'll tell you everything.' He looked imploringly at his grandfather; were the
last four months of trust and companionship enough to sway Pollox's anger? 'But you have to
promise not to tell Mother,' he added, 'she won't understand, but you will.'

Pollox considered him, and then abruptly he sat again and muttered, 'I would not bet on that, young
man.'
'You will, Grandfather, I promise,' Sirius said with a tight smile of relief. Merlin, he wanted
Hermione here to help with this; he was bound to mess it up somehow. But she wasn't, so he began
to speak. 'Hermione and I have been, for the last four months, carrying out a plan to defeat
Voldemort, and it has worked. In three weeks he will be dead – and the world will be free.'

'I will admit I have been suspicious since your capture. Hermione was very … forceful with us,'
Pollox said shrewdly, his anger still very obvious in his voice. 'I asked her what was really going
on; she told me you had been working for Dumbledore, gathering information on the Death Eaters
in our family, but there is more to it than that isn't there?'

'Yes Grandfather, much more.' Sirius said, hiding a grin at the idea of Hermione being "forceful"
with his mother - how he wished he could have seen that. 'But I need you to swear you will not tell
Mother about this – not yet. After Halloween you can tell her everything but until then it needs to
stay a secret or everything could fall apart.'

'I will decide once you have told me,' Pollox said, stubborn as ever. 'If I feel that it is the right thing
to do I will tell her tonight. Accept that or leave – do not test me Sirius.'

It was the best Sirius could hope for, so he said cautiously, 'Hermione has been researching
Voldemort for years. She discovered that he has been trying to make himself immortal – and has
succeeded. Hermione came here with a plan of attack to stop him; she had found the locations of
the Horcruxes he had made, and because of that she asked for my help.'

'Horcruxes!' Pollox exclaimed seeming to forget he was supposed to be furious with his grandson,
'Merlin, boy, that is some dangerously dark magic – why would you be any help?'

'Because three of five were being held by our family,' Sirius said quietly.

Pollox looked almost ashamed; Sirius knew that while his grandfather might think it right to fit
werewolves with leashes and segregate muggleborns from all other magic folk, he was in no way a
supporter of Voldemort or the way he achieved his goals. 'So that's why you came to me that day?'
Pollox asked, and Sirius could hear the disappointment in his voice.

Sirius nodded, 'Grandfather, I really had only just found out about Reg; I thought him still alive
until Hermione told me otherwise. Everything I said to you was true - I was worried for the family
line - all of it, I swear. It may have taken me longer to make the decision to return if it weren't for
the Horcruxes, but I still would have. I'm so glad, so grateful that you took me back, and I want to
continue as heir, truly.' It wasn't a total lie, not anymore; he remembered at the time thinking that
he had never spouted such rubbish in all his life, but it was true enough now.

Pollox didn't comment so Sirius went on, 'One of them was hidden here Grandfather, one of the
Horcruxes – that's why Reg deserted, why he didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore. He
discovered Voldemort was trying to make himself immortal and wanted to stop him. He found one
of the Horcruxes and hid it here before he was killed for suspicion.'

Pollox was considering him with an odd look. 'So you rubbed your Gryffindor ways off on him
after all - Walburga will be horrified.'

Sirius felt a surge of pride at these words. He knew Pollox would understand – he was a Slytherin,
self-preservation above all else. 'Another was with Malfoy,' Sirius continued, a little more sure of
himself now, 'and another with the Lestranges.' He looked at Pollox and said earnestly,
'Grandfather, we got the last one six weeks ago, and I've still been visiting, still doing my duty.
This mission was just the catalyst - I wanted to return, I just feared rejection and the moment was
never right, but because of Hermione's plan I had to. I'm so glad I did; even when I thought we
were going to fail I was relieved to have my family back.' Sirius thought he was stretching the truth
to breaking point, but he could see Pollox's resolve weakening under humble declarations of family
loyalty. 'I'm so sorry Grandfather, but you understand why I couldn't tell you this. It is not your
secret to keep,' Sirius finished, putting his head down hoping to appear contrite.

Pollox was silent for a moment, and Sirius chanced a glance at him – mainly to check if there was a
wand pointing in his direction, but there wasn't. Pollox was looking down also, thinking.
Eventually he said, 'You say you have all the Horcruxes. Why, then, is the Dark Lord still living?'

'Because we have yet to destroy them,' Sirius said, pleased to have a subject that he could be
absolutely honest on.

'Why would you wait?' Pollox asked, obviously confused. 'Surely it is best to dispose of them as
quickly as possible.'

'Because Voldemort is hard to find,' Sirius said. 'We know where he is going to be on Halloween
night, so we will kill him then and destroy the Horcruxes at the same time. We don't want him
knowing that his secret has been discovered – it could mess up his schedule.'

'How could you possibly know where he is going to be?' Pollox asked.

'Dumbledore has many spies,' Sirius said evasively. Not really a lie, he told himself, Dumbledore
does have many spies, they just had nothing to do with this information.

Pollox nodded, 'There is still the matter of Miss Fehr. While I am sure you will find someone to
marry eventually, I will admit I am disappointed it will not be her. I cannot believe you would go to
such lengths to trick us - her mother came to our house for goodness sake!' He paused for a moment
and then said, 'I suppose this is why she told me she had to return to Zurich in November?'

'Yes Grandfather,' Sirius said, 'that's right. But she… It may have started off as an act, but we are
looking for a way for her to not return home. Hermione wants to stay now - with me – but she has,'
Sirius paused. What might she have already said? 'She has family commitments there,' he finished
vaguely.

'But she could not abandon her duty,' Pollox said sternly. 'Surely her family would not allow that,
just for … you.'

Sirius could not pretend that his grandfather's words didn't sting a little. 'Yes she can,' he said
petulantly. 'She wants to, in case you haven't noticed. Hermione wishes to devote her life to helping
others, not signing documents and smiling. She can do that here as well as anywhere.'

'Well, she is a determined little thing so I guess I could understand that,' Pollox said, faintly
amused, 'but if her family thinks it is your fault she has not returned they will come down on all of
us.'

'Yes Grandfather, I realise that, but her mother supports her, and she has many male cousins to
carry out the duties of state,' Sirius said thinking fast. 'Frederica will most likely be able to
convince Faustus that it will be good for the family image to have Hermione pursue a … er,
humanitarian role in Britain after the war.' He was quite proud of his quick explanation, and it
wasn't that far from the truth. 'I know we may have been dishonest in the beginning, but it was for
a good cause.'

'Sirius, I can accept that you were doing what you thought was right, but how can I trust you to run
this house if you are going to lie to me?'
He should have known it wouldn't be so easy, but this was too important to give up on, so Sirius
asked, 'Why did you let me return?'

'Because I believed that you had grown up,' Pollox said, the bitter tone creeping back into his
voice, 'that you had realised your mistake of leaving us and wanted to take your place as heir.'

Sirius nodded slowly. 'Those are both true Grandfather – that is what I want. And why did Mother
let you convince her to give me a chance?'

Pollox let out a resigned sigh. 'Because she thought you would be married to someone appropriate,
and would carry on the line.'

'Also true Grandfather,' Sirius said with a grin, thankful Pollox had not mentioned a timeframe.
'Hermione will stay; I'm going to make sure of it. So really,' he said knowing that he was close to
convincing the man now, 'the outcome you both wanted is still a reality. It's not as bad as it
seemed. Please, Grandfather, I'm sorry you found out this way; we were going to tell you once the
mission was over. Hermione thinks you're wonderful, as does Lady Fehr, and we felt dreadful lying
to you.'

Pollox's face was turned in Sirius's direction but his eyes were unfocused as he thought it over, then
without warning he asked, 'So how long have you and Hermione really been seeing each other? I
will admit you possess some acting skill; that display at the Gala was very believable.'

Sirius very nearly laughed. 'It was not exactly an act, Grandfather, we…' he cleared his throat, 'we
got distracted.'

'I see,' Pollox said the corner of his mouth twitching.

Recognising the approach of success, Sirius said, 'See Granddad, nothing has changed. I have
enjoyed spending time with you again, and I haven't lied to you since you allowed me in the house
- does the reason behind it really have to ruin everything?'

'I don't know Sirius,' Pollox said, sounding frustrated with himself for being indecisive.

Pushing his advantage Sirius said, 'Would whiskey and beating me at chess help? I'll let you win.'

'You don't need to let me win my boy, I beat you every time.' Pollox's eyes were narrowed but
Sirius could see amusement there.

'So is that a yes?' he asked, unable to hide his grin at the sight of his grandfather trying so hard to
be annoyed at him.

Pollox growled in defeat as he rose from his chair, 'You are incorrigible.'

'They say I get that from you,' Sirius sniggered, moving over to the chess board.

'Don't remind me,' Pollox muttered. He took the seat opposite Sirius and was welcomed by a
rousing chorus of "For he's jolly good fellow" from his miniature white marble soldiers.

After twenty minutes of chess in which Pollox only spoke to give battle instructions - though each
time the onyx troops objected to Sirius's instruction with an onslaught of insulting names, Pollox
gave a strange cough that was no doubt disguising a chuckle – and two glasses of homemade
whiskey, Pollox finally said, 'All right, I will keep this to myself until November.' He looked
sternly into his grandson's face. 'But if these are more lies, Sirius, be warned: I will take everything
you have, Alphard's gold too. I will draw up an agreement and you will come and sign it tomorrow.
If I find out that any of this is false I will present it to the goblins and you will have nothing.'

'Of course, Grandfather,' Sirius said at once, thinking he would cross the Fehr bridge when he
came to it.

'He has nothing of worth anyway!' the black queen called up from the board disparagingly. 'Useless
whelp! He cannot direct a battle to save his life!'

Sirius scowled down at the haughty harpy, and then scanned the board for an appropriate
punishment for her. Sighting the sinister white bishop within striking distance he sent her directly
into her his path and looked up at Pollox, who was smirking. 'If you would oblige me, Granddad, I
would be most appreciative.'

It was as the queen's right arm soared across the board that Kreacher appeared with a crack.
'Master, Mr Lestrange, senior, has arrived.'
 Cat Burglary

9th October

Sirius was in a rather unusual situation on Friday afternoon. He was sitting at his desk in the corner
cubicle he called home amongst the cubicle-maze of Auror Headquarters, staring at a map of
Suffolk; his uniform robes were strangling him something terrible, and he was hungry. None of
those things were, in fact, unusual at all; they made up a large part of a normal Sirius Black day,
especially robe strangulation and being hungry. The reason he had dubbed this moment unusual
was that, instead of staring blankly for unnecessarily long periods of time at the map spread out on
his desk, he had been working on this one. And, to add to the unusualness of it all, he completely
understood what he was doing with it. Moody would quite possibly die of shock.

Sirius had spent the last half-hour plotting various points onto it from a comprehensive list Moody
had given him. Once he had finished with the recorded information he had moved on to projecting
the next likely locations. The thirty or so incidences Sirius was charting ranged from Death Eater
sightings to strange noises and lights; theft was common, especially of unlikely things like odd bits
of stable tack, chickens, and brandy, and more recently – and bizarrely – cats.

It was undeniably intriguing, but speculation about this cat burglary did not distract Sirius from his
work; Moody had promised that if Sirius could draw a likely conclusion from the information then
he could go with Frank to stake it out over the weekend. Sirius personally thought that Moody was
trying to keep him from having too much spare time on his hands around Hermione, but of course
the old Auror would never say such a thing. And besides, Sirius was partial to a bit of an adventure,
even if it was an adventure that involved talking to gossipy villagers about their missing pets and
booze.

It was not only the reward of going out and doing something that had Sirius working unnaturally
hard; he was also trying to distract himself from the constricting sensation that had been building in
his chest since yesterday. Rabastan's funeral was going on at this very moment. Sirius could not, of
course, attend, seeing as how Death Eaters seemed to think it polite to present their slimy
murderous faces at the funeral of a man they had killed. While Sirius didn't particularly want to go
and listen to someone speak about Rab's life who hadn't known the man at all, Sirius regretted that
he would not get to say good bye to him in the formal way.

All day long stupid little things had reminded him of his friend; a witch carrying scrolls of
parchment just like Rab had done the day Sirius got the cup for the vault. Or when he and Frank
had gone down to the Magical Games and Sports Department for "work" (to get a sneak peek at the
new kit for the English Quidditch side before it was unveiled to the public during the preliminary
rounds of the World Cup), and the pile of gold and silver trinkets in the team's trophy case made
him think of Rab's grinning face when they had been admiring the weapons in the Lestrange vault.
Worse was when Sirius had commented that the painting of a bald beater with a squashed nose
from a stray bludger looked like a bloody and bruised Voldemort; Frank had given him a such a
Rab-worthy look of disbelief that Sirius would say something so stupid at the top of his voice in
possibly mixed company, that the pressing feeling against his chest had become almost painful.
But worst of all, when he had left the M.G.S.D. trying to get Rabastan out of his head, a nervous
looking man had entered the lift after him and Frank with such a wary frown on his face, that Sirius
had spent the whole ride back to the Auror offices trying to swallow around a very large and
intrusive lump in his throat.

The events that followed his unsettling, partially truthful, and almost inevitably very expensive
conversation with his grandfather the day before had been oddly anticlimactic, all stilted but polite.
Mr Lestrange had stayed at Grimmauld Place for less than half an hour; it had hardly seemed real
to Sirius. Pollux greeted his visitor with his usual formal politeness and Mr Lestrange thanked him
for keeping his son's body safe. Mr Lestrange seemed completely unaware that his daughter-in-law
had caused his son's death, and Pollox had not mentioned it, saying only that the thoughts of the
House of Black were with them at this difficult time. Loretta had cried silently through the whole
exchange, and Walburga had not been present at all. Hermione had stayed in the kitchen until
Sirius had returned to take her home, citing a frivolous frock as her reason for not meeting the
mourners.

Sirius and Hermione had gone back to his flat in the early afternoon where they had spent the day
engaged in strangely separate pursuits considering the size of the accommodation. She had
unpacked – or more accurately reorganised her packing, given that her magically enlarged
suitcases had more space than Sirius's flat – and Sirius had, with good intentions, begun to tidy the
sitting room. This had lasted almost twenty minutes before he found himself sitting on the floor,
his back resting against the seat of the sofa "sorting" the stack of records that had been serving as a
table since the day before. "Sorting" equated to reading the backs of the sleeves and fixing
scratches on the records themselves with his wand. He managed to entertain himself this way for
several hours before Hermione came in and he hastily pretended to be folding the washing that was
still strewn everywhere so that she wouldn't think he was slacking off.

To his surprise, she'd just smiled and said, 'Go back to your records, the mess will keep. I can do it
tomorrow while you're at work,' then left him alone again. Glad that she seemed not to care at all
about the state his house was in, and that she was leaving him to himself for the afternoon, Sirius
had gone back to the records. Magically straightening the bent corners and mending the torn inserts
was something he used to do when trapped in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place during the school
holidays. It had always helped to appease his irritation at confinement, and take his mind off
wanting to hex his hag of a mother, because the crumpled edges and tiny scratches took precision
and concentration to fix; while the spells were simple, it took a bit of skill if you wanted it to look
like new again. He found as he had sat on his sitting room floor that it also distracted him quite
well from the hollow, numb, and slightly anxious feeling that had been settled over him ever since
he had opened the letter from his grandfather.

But as he was at the Ministry now, where record repairs were not generally looked upon as part of
the grand scheme to capture Voldemort, though he thought it might be a better use of his time most
days, who knew … Voldemort might internally combust at the sound of Teenage Lobotomy if it
was played loud enough…probably not though. So Sirius focused instead – like he never had
before – on the cat pinchers path across Suffolk to keep his mind from straying to the service were
Rab was being put to rest.

It was as he noticed an almost travel like pattern in his plottings on the map that he heard the
squeaking of Frank Longbottom's desk against the dividing wall, a sound that signalled the man
was climbing onto it to be able to look over into Sirius's work space.

'Merlin, are you actually working, Black?' Frank asked.

'Yup,' Sirius said marking his next point before looking up.

Frank looked over his shoulder briefly and then said, 'Is Moody on his way over?'

'I don't think so, why?' Sirius said distractedly, as he checked the sheet of parchment Moody had
given him and began to add times to his marks on the map.

'Because you're working,' Frank said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sirius looked up at him. 'I can work just because I want to.' He wasn't quite sure why he was
defending himself, when he thought it was a bit strange, too.

'Yeah, but you don't,' Frank said, caught between amusement and confusion.

'Well now I am,' Sirius said shortly, again unsure why it bothered him so much that Frank thought
it weird, when it really actually was.

Frank looked taken aback at Sirius's snappish tone, 'What's with you?'

'Nothing,' Sirius muttered, then he realised it was his own fault for having a reputation of a work
ethic similar to an unenthusiastic chimp. 'Sorry Longbottom, it's been a shit week.'

'Oh,' Frank said, 'well I'm not complaining, mind, I'm glad you're doing that,' he nodded at the map.
'I'm nearly done with the witness statements so we should be able to go for a poke around over the
weekend.'

'Brilliant,' Sirius said honestly; he loved going for "a poke around" as Frank put it. It made him feel
useful, and that was the last word he would use to describe his day yesterday.

'Yeah, it's really good timing,' Frank said. 'I've got Mum's sister visiting, her older sister, and holy
shit is she a crazy old bat.'

'Hey mate, you don't get to complain about family to me. Have you met mine?'

Frank grinned, 'You're so right - at the Gala your Aunt Cassiopeia told me I was too handsome to
be a pureblood and that I should look into my bloodline because there was obviously someone
unrelated in there.'

Sirius snorted, 'Yep, if you want the epitome of crazy old bat you've found it with Aunt Cassie.'

'Still,' Frank said with a laugh, 'at least it was a compliment.'

'Longbottom, she's blind,'Sirius said, forgetting about the map for a moment to laugh at the
thoughtful expression on Frank's face.

'Oh,' he said after a moment, 'I did wonder how she could say that when you are about as inbred as
they come.'

'Are you coming on to me, Longbottom?' Sirius asked, laughing even harder.

Frank sniggered, 'Yeah, you'll have to watch out, alone all weekend together.'

Sirius put his hand on his heart and pretended to swoon, managing to say in a frilly breathless
voice, 'Oh Frank, I'm so flattered! But how will you tell Alice?' before he lost it completely and
collapsed with mirth against the map on his desk top.

Frank was half hanging over the wall as he snorted in hilarity at Sirius's craziness. 'She'll
understand.' Between cackles, he clarified, 'Irresistible.'

'Sometimes,' growled a voice from Frank's cubicle, 'I wonder if the lack of progress in this war is
entirely down to you two.' The wall gave a little quake as it was hit by something and Frank
jumped before disappearing from view.

The wall kept rattling between his and Frank's desks, which made Sirius laugh all the harder as he
heard Frank saying to Moody, 'Sorry sir, we were talking about work, here look.' Sirius calmed
himself enough to listen properly and heard the rustle of parchment as Frank showed Moody what
was probably his witness statements.

'Alright Longbottom, they look good,' Moody said after a moment of silence. Then, now that Sirius
was listening for it, he heard the muffled clunk of Moody's wooden leg on the carpet as he moved
along the row, no doubt readying his walking stick and his scowl before entering Sirius's work
space.

'What have you got for me Black?' Moody asked when he came into view.

Sirius, who had spun in his chair to face his boss – to hopefully circumvent a painful greeting as
Moody was unlikely to whack him across the face – was surprised to see the man looking
genuinely interested. This threw Sirius more than the usual violent pirate/ninja ghost appearance
and he stuttered slightly before remembering he did have something. Because he'd been working.
He smirked smugly.

'Er … oh right … look,' he rolled his chair to the side with a quick shuffling of his feet to make
room in front of the map and beckoned Moody over. 'So,' he said, pointing at the map, 'the red dots
are confirmed sightings – courtesy of young Frank over the wall – the green ones are sightings but
unconfirmed, orange is theft and yellow is for noise complaints.' The noise dots moved in a steady
path across the county, starting in Mildenhall two weeks ago, and now the most recent report of the
noise - just last night - was just north of Ipswich. The other dots were not so easy to follow;
sightings and stolen items popped up seemingly randomly all over the county but they were
generally in the same time frame.

'Not too shabby, Black,' Moody muttered as he looked at the purple prediction markers. He pulled
a folded piece of parchment from his pocket; it was more of the same, but most were a surprisingly
close match to the points Sirius had plotted from the information he already had. 'You know what
this means don't you?' Moody asked.

'That me and Frank get to have a wee holiday outing?'

'Yes, but also that next time you tell me you couldn't figure something out, I'm going to know
you're just a lazy blighter.'

'Bollocks,' Sirius mumbled, as his chimp status came crashing down. Now he'd have to do real
work – what a pain in the arse.

Then Moody leaned closer and said in a gruff whisper, 'I've had a brainwave regarding the
Russians; it might take me a week or two but I'll let you know how it pans out.'

Sirius turned his head to look at Moody in astonishment, and regretted it as he was presented with a
rather more close-up view of the mangled face than he had ever wanted, but said, 'Really? What?'

'Best you don't know till it's sorted, but thought you'd like to know that I'm giving it a go.'

Sirius was lost for words as he realised that Moody's normally unappealing visage was possibly the
most wonderful thing he had ever seen. That was until there was very sharp pain in his ankle and
he looked at his feet to see Moody's cane pressing firmly down on the top of his boot and into the
bone. Moody growled, 'You can look at the girl like that all you want, sonny, but if you're going to
start doing it to me you can say goodbye to my little plan.'

'Right, sorry sir,' Sirius said quickly. 'um … thanks, I know you think it's stupid.'

'Yes,' Moody agreed as he removed the walking stick, 'but that's you in a nutshell, so I'm used to it.'
Sirius grinned. 'Ta, old man.'

'Just do your job, Black,' Moody grunted as he stumped from the cubicle.

10th October

'At least this is better than Ireland,' Frank said as he and Sirius sat side by side frying sausages over
a magical fire in a little wooded area north of Ipswich. They had been in their official Auror
capacity for most of the day, talking to the locals about the strange goings on. It was nice to have
people respect you, Sirius thought as he gave the frying pan a little shake so the sausages rolled
about and began to spit even more.

'You're quite good at that.' Frank said, 'I didn't know you could muggle cook.'

'This isn't muggle cooking Longbottom,' Sirius said, 'Our fire is in a jar, for goodness sake.'

'Yeah, but it's still cooking,' Frank insisted, peering into the pan suspiciously.

'I guess. Hermione made sausages last night, and I watched; it didn't look so hard,' Sirius said
casually, though he was unsure how you knew when the sausages were done. He jiggled the pan
over the jar again.

'Are you living with her, then?' Frank asked, sitting back on the grass with his cup of tea,
apparently satisfied that Sirius could manage the complicated task alone. They hadn't boiled the
water for tea on the fire, firstly because they couldn't balance the teapot on the jar rim, secondly
because they didn't know if you could even boil water in china teapot over a fire, and thirdly,
magic was much faster.

'Sort of,' Sirius said. He poked at the sausages with a fork, as it seemed like the thing to do, but he
wasn't sure what the aim of stabbing the bangers was – other than putting holes in them – so when
the skin began to split and the hissing and spitting increased, he desisted.

'How do you "sort of" live with someone?' Frank asked, confused, then added, 'Oh right, you mean
she stays the night.'

Sirius gave a noncommittal shrug; Frank was not one for dirty conversations anyway, but Sirius
was not really in the mood for talking about his pretend-girlfriend at all, not because she was
Hermione Fehr, or other lies, but more that he was feeling uneasy about the whole situation at the
moment.

After Moody's vague promise to fix Hermione's spy problem the previous afternoon, Sirius's day
had gone downhill quite sharply. He had already been in a bit of a surly mood due to the death of
his friend, and considering his next task had been to go to Grimmauld Place and sign away his
whole bank account, he hadn't really expected to have his spirits lifted. Signing a contract that you
knew you were going to break was not a pleasant thing to have to do at the best of times, but it had
quite frankly been awful. He was a little ashamed of how much the idea of losing all his gold
bothered him.

Sirius may have said often enough that gold didn't matter, but truthfully it was very easy to say that
when you had enough to live on for the rest of your life. He knew everything was going to be a lot
more difficult when Pollux found out – as he surely would – that Hermione was not a Fehr, and that
therefore Sirius had still been lying to him. This meant that Pollux would get everything Sirius
owned, and boy was his grandfather thorough - it turned out wasn't just his bank account, but his
flat, too. Anything that had been bought with money that had once belonged to the Blacks would
pass into Pollux's ownership if the contract was broken. The only tiny up-side was that these
specific terms meant Sirius got to keep his motorbike – seeing as how James had pretty much
bought it for him with his pint-pouring prowess and superhuman ability to ignore all attractive girls
other than Lily – but Sirius was still nervous as to what his life was going to be like without the
security.

When it came down to it, "nervous" didn't quite cover it, really; a severe panic attack was more
like it. The crux of the matter was, he had promised Hermione he would look after her here, and
money was a key part of his ability to do that. He hadn't told her about the contract, he didn't dare,
because she would think it was another risk, another reason to go back - which in reality it sort of
was, he would honestly admit.

What woman would want to stay with a man who not only selfishly asked her to hide from
everyone that was after her – for the rest of her life – but didn't tell her that the hiding would
probably need to be done in a homeless shelter, or soup kitchen, or under a bridge in a fucking
cardboard box? Probably while eating beans from the tin and warming their hands on rubbish bin
fires like vagrants. No, not even like vagrants, they would be vagrants. Sirius made a mental note to
buy some fingerless gloves for both of them before Pollux cleaned him out. It would be the least he
could do to provide suitable attire; maybe he should look into long, Mundungus-like coats and
shopping trollies while he was at it.

After this disheartening visit with his grandfather Sirius had arrived home to a flat that was
unfamiliarly clean, though the sitting room was home to several piles of junk that Hermione said
she had no idea what to do with, an impending duty that did nothing to cheer him up. His mood
could no longer be described as surly because it was bordering on downright unpleasant. He was
feeling guilty for keeping the stupid contract from her, depressed because Rab was gone, and
annoyed at himself for wanting to go with bloody Frank to bloody Suffolk because if Hermione did
go back this was one of three weekends left to them and he was going to waste it camping with a
bloke.

Hermione had made him sausages though, which had cheered him up until – in true Sirius form –
he had fallen asleep on the couch and not woken up till morning (damn comfortable thing) and so
he hadn't even had the chance to talk to her properly, let alone use the guise of being slightly sad,
and possibly half asleep to induce a favourable situation in his bed. His bed, that she was sleeping
in without him. To top off his inner grumbling, he and Frank weren't returning until Tuesday
morning, which just bloody happened to be full moon, so that meant he would only see Hermione
very briefly before heading off to the wilderness to pour tea for a stiff-jointed, and probably
grouchy werewolf. Not that he wasn't somewhat looking forward to that excursion, of course, but it
was inconvenient timing.

Sirius ate his slightly burnt campfire sausages as Frank babbled on beside him; he was telling a
story about Neville and how Alice swore he had called her "Mum" but Frank said the toddler was
yet to repeat the word and he was quite sure Alice was just going mad from being cooped up.

Once they had finished their greasy charcoally dinner, and night had fallen properly, Sirius and
Frank began their secondary task of this little assignment, the part for the Order. Aurors were not
allowed to go snooping about in people's back yards, but once they were off-duty, they were
private citizens - as the Order didn't technically exist at all – and could do whatever they wanted.
So long as they didn't get caught.

So they apparated back along the noise-complaints trail to Lavenham. The noise that had been
reported across the county by wizards and muggles alike was described as a cross between
fingernails on a black board, clicking, and a cat being strangled. The last one Sirius supposed was
not that surprising considering misplaced felines were also part of the strange mystery, but he was
jimmied if he could figure out what the Death Eaters were doing with clicking, asphyxiated kitty-
cats and a chalk board.

He and Frank had been in Lavenham earlier in the day asking questions, but is was worthwhile to
follow up; while the wizarding public might respect Aurors, they were still often nervous, and
unlikely to give a full account of what they had seen to the Ministry employees. Sirius and Frank
had spoken to a suspicious elderly woman on the outskirts of the town that morning; she had been
very hesitant to say too much to them, even though she had filed a complaint about an empty liquor
cabinet. She had reluctantly let them in to her house though, and both men had lost their focus for a
moment when they had entered her kitchen to see trays of freshly baked biscuits covering every
surface. When asked what they were for – for passing Aurors, Sirius hoped, or for some event,
more likely - the woman had said she just liked baking, and shown no grandmotherly interest in
sharing them around, unfortunately. She had shown them her liquor cabinet; she was not only
missing brandy but sherry as well, she seemed much more annoyed by the lack of sherry than
brandy. They had wanted to have a look around the house for further clues, but she had chivvied
them out the door, saying that it wasn't polite to pry. Frank was convinced this meant she was a
polyjuice doppelgänger with the real Mrs whatever-her-name-was tied up in a closet somewhere,
but Sirius just thought she was growing weed in her attic. No one needed that many biscuits.

Sneaking around the town did not give the two Aurors any more information than they had learned
from the locals however. It was just a sleepy little village, albeit with fewer cats and chickens than
it had had a week ago.

They moved on to Whepstead where they did find something of worth, if only by comparison. In
an empty field behind a muggle farm that had lost a few pieces of horse paraphernalia from its
stables (bridles and a couple of riding blankets) he and Frank came across some wooden slats that
still had strengthening charms on them. Interesting, not that it really gave them any more
information, except that magical people who needed strong wood had been in the area. The boards
could have come from anything – most likely a shelter of some kind, as Death Eaters were not
known for being experienced outdoorsmen. That could explain the blankets too, Sirius thought.
The Aurors had packed up the long bits of timber to take back to the Ministry with them, and
continued on down the path where the ungodly noise had been heard over the last two weeks.

Sirius and Frank had continued in their routine of Auroring by day and flitting about under cover of
darkness until Monday evening. By this point Sirius thought that he quite understood why the
Death Eaters were stealing brandy. Camping was sodding boring.

13th October

'You two had better have some good news for me,' Moody grunted as he tramped into his office
and slammed the door behind him on Tuesday morning. Frank and Sirius had arrived to the office
directly from their mission, and had been dozing in the chairs in front of Moody's desk waiting for
the Head Auror to arrive.

Sirius startled awake at the sudden violent sound. 'Good morning to you, too,' he grumbled, sitting
up a little straighter.

'Not this morning Black,' Moody growled at him, 'I'm not in the mood for your cheek.'

Was he ever? Sirius thought, but didn't say anything as he cowered slightly under the glowering
anger of Alastor Moody.
'What's happened, Moody?' Frank asked, concerned, rubbing at his face in an effort to seem more
alert.

'Bloody Scrimgeour happened, blew his sodding cover this morning and I had to go and get the
useless bastard myself at 4am.'

'Why?' the two younger Aurors said in unison. Sirius liked the idea that Scrimgeour was in trouble;
the man was a right smarmy prat.

'Never you mind,' Moody snapped, but continued to mutter under his breath, 'what kind of Auror
needs help when there were only three Death Eaters on him? Ruddy hopeless fool.'

Sirius and Frank exchanged a look. Three Death Eaters "on you" was a perfectly good reason to ask
for assistance, even if it was Smarmy Scrimgeour, Sirius would think, but Moody in a temper was
not someone to disagree with so he changed the topic. 'We found some stuff in Suffolk,' he said in a
optimistic tone.

'You found some stuff? Good job there then,' Moody replied sarcastically

Sirius very nearly told him to sod off and do his own bloody camping if he was going to be like
that, but luckily Frank stepped in. 'Yes sir, along the trail we found several interesting points of
magical proof that the Death Eaters have been heading towards the coast. According to residents,
they have been sighted a few times, and are conclusively Death Eaters, but no people have gone
missing and they don't seem to be making trouble, just travelling. We have some evidence that we
can examine further, but we have come to the conclusion that there seem to be only three of them -
two at the moving base camp, while the third apparates about the county stealing things. At their
current pace they should reach the coast in a week.'

Sirius looked at Frank in surprise. When he put it like that, they really had made progress on their
wood-collecting mission – for that's what the evidence mostly was, more broken slats from
different points along the trail, and two empty brandy bottles.

'Well,' Moody said, obviously unable to find fault, 'all right then, get back to me when you have
more. I've got meetings all day so I'll want your report when I get back at five.' He paused, then
said briskly, 'And for the love of Merlin go and have a shower before you come back to see me,
you both reek. Go!' He reinforced the order with a whack of his cane to the desk top, and both
Frank and Sirius were on their feet and out the door in a second.

'Merlin,' Sirius said, as he scrubbed a towel trough his wet hair in the employee bathrooms half an
hour later, 'I haven't seen Moody that shitty since Crouch passed the unforgivable law.'

'I know,' Frank agreed, stretching his face into the unnatural expression all men wore while
shaving, as he tried to see the patch of stubble under his chin in the age-spotted institutional mirror.
'Do you reckon it was just about Scrimgeour or something else?'

'Buggered if I know,' Sirius said, throwing the towel into the laundry bin. 'I suppose we should get
this evidence stuff done or he'll never let us leave.' Sirius did feel remarkably more awake after his
first shower in three days, but he really didn't want to continue with tedious magical examination of
the wood; maybe they could find some trainees to do it for them.

It turned out they could. Three eager second-year Aurors volunteered themselves to do the work,
so Sirius and Frank spent the day snoozing at their desks, enjoying the fact that Moody was gone
for the day and waiting for the results to be bought to them. Having lackeys was brilliant.
Sirius and Frank left the Ministry together that evening, after a much more relaxed conversation
with Moody; his temper seemed to have fizzled out during the course of the day and he was quite
pleased with the work they had done (even if they had got the second years to write most of their
report for them, too, but Moody wasn't to know that.) Frank was coming along to Sirius's flat to
pick up the telescope that had once tried to assault Sirius.

The telescope, as it turned out, belonged to Frank. During their campfire conversations, Sirius had
talked about how Hermione was struggling to find places for all his junk; Frank had not believed
that it was really as bad as Sirius made it out to be, so Sirius had been forced to tell him of Remus's
fear of the washing pile and the many stories of injures he himself had sustained just by sitting
down without looking, thus leading to Attack of the Telescope. Frank had found it so amusing that
Sirius thought he must still be unconvinced. Well, he would soon see.

As well as providing proof of his hoarding nature – something he wasn't quite sure he should be
proving to anyone, but that was beside the point – Sirius was quite pleased to be able to get rid of
one more thing, because he thought that Hermione might be impressed with his initiative. Seeing
as how she had done all the work so far, though, the removal of one little object might not be that
significant in her eyes, but it was worth a shot.

He and Frank appeared in the alley next to Sirius's building, and made their way to the graffitied
door. 'Interesting place,' Frank said, eyeing a pair of muggle girls leaving the pie shop; their thick
black eye make-up and extremely tall hair made Sirius smile, how he loved the weird muggles.

'You know me, Longbottom,' he said with a grin, 'I couldn't live somewhere boring like you.'

Frank just laughed as he followed Sirius up the stairs and along the little hall to the door of his flat.
Sirius was tired, but so happy to be home, even if it was only to say a quick hello to Hermione
before going to Remus's. James was coming again tonight, which was brilliant, and with the
Wolfsbane full moons were no longer the exhausting experience they used to be, so he was quite
looking forward to it.

Sirius knocked on the door, and Frank gave him an odd look, asking, 'You knock at your own
house?'

Sirius shrugged, 'Security… you know, better to be safe.'

'True,' Frank said.

Hermione's voice came from the other side of the door, 'Remus routinely reads rigorous research.'

He glanced at Frank who was looking quite confused and Sirius laughed as he said, 'That sounds so
boring, how about … er … Remus runs rampant, ripping robes regularly.'

Hermione giggled, 'No he doesn't, we fixed that!' She laughed again. 'Remember? Remus rarely...
umm... roams rough... recently?'

'Have you been practicing?' Sirius asked as the door opened to show Hermione smiling widely at
the sight of him. It hit Sirius how much he had missed her, and for a moment he just grinned, he
was so glad to be home.

She seemed to feel the same way because she exclaimed happily, 'Thank god you're back! Why
didn't you let me know you weren't coming home until tonight?'

Before he could string a sentence together of, 'I thought I did, whoops sorry,' she had thrown her
arms around his neck and kissed him. If he'd expected a welcome home like this he would have
told Frank to bugger off, but he wasn't going to be picky at a time like this. When the kiss turned
from a reasonably polite pressing of lips to a full blown snog a few moments later, Sirius decided
that Frank didn't matter and if he really wanted … whatever the hell he was there for … then he
could just wait a bloody minute.

Sirius wound his arms around her and returned Hermione's enthusiastic greeting. He wondered
vaguely why she had decided to jump on him out of the blue, in the open doorway no less, when he
had to leave again very soon, but as the fingers of one of her hands were tangled in the back of his
hair and the other had snuck beneath his cloak and was holding him to her he didn't let it bother
him for very long. Her lips were soft and almost urgent, and Sirius was taken over by the feeling,
forgetting everything else, concentrating only on the way she reacted to his eager response. He
couldn't have said how much time had passed when Hermione made a delightful little sound that
did ridiculous things to his mental coherency. Abruptly there was a pointed cough from behind
him, and Sirius suddenly realised his hand had somehow found its way up the back of her shirt and
that he and Hermione were basically mauling each other in front of his colleague.

Hermione had obviously heard the cough, too, because she pulled away from him, and a steady
rising flush crept up her throat and across her cheeks as she noticed – seemingly for the first time –
that they were not alone.

Her eyes darted back up to his and he chuckled a little breathlessly, 'Er … hi, I'm home.'

'Hello,' she said in a tiny little voice, and then Frank let out a loud booming laugh, and she buried
her face in Sirius's shoulder saying, 'Fucking hell, you could have said something.'

Sirius chuckled all the more; there was something very entertaining about Hermione swearing.

'I'm off now, Black,' Frank said still very amused.

'Don't you want your …' why was Frank here again? Sirius had no idea.

'Telescope? I got it. It was sitting on the bookshelf there, I didn't think you'd mind.'

'Oh right, then why'd you interrupt?' Sirius said, a little annoyed.

'Because it was funny, and I didn't think your neighbour would appreciate coming home to people
shagging in the hallway,' Frank said as he retreated to the stairs with a wave and a wink.

Sirius doubted very much if Staple-face would care at all; Sirius had come across a similar
situation more than once and his neighbour had not been the least bit apologetic.

'So …' Sirius said, as he closed the door, still dazed by the exuberant greeting - dazed but pleased -
'this is new …'

Hermione smiled nervously, her cheeks still pink, 'I … huh, I guess it sort of is … um … not really,
we've …' she trailed off.

Sirius wasn't sure what made him happier, kissing - obviously good - but Hermione lost for words?
That was definitely a close second. 'So …' he said again, realising that she was not the only one
with articulation issues. He wanted to say "So what does this mean? Are we going to be doing this
on a regular basis? Am I finally allowed to call you my girlfriend?" But as they all sounded very
lame and very adolescent, even in his head, all he managed to come up with was, 'That was fun.'

Hermione gave a little nod and said, 'Sorry, it's just that everything seems to keep going wrong, er
… interruptions … and I've been so worried about you all day. You said you were getting back this
morning!'

She had taken a few steps away from him as she spoke, so he reached out and grabbed her hand,
reeling her back in. 'We did, but I still had to go to work,' he said, thinking that he'd never been so
pleased to make someone worry. 'I know what you mean though,' he went on after a moment, 'if
bloody Moody hadn't turned up the other day…' Sirius didn't really know how to finish that
sentence in a way that didn't sound presumptuous, so he said with a smirk, 'So you're saying if I'm
late home these are the consequences? If I'd known it was that easy I'd have worked late more
often.' He couldn't help thinking what an idiot he'd been, waiting for the right moment, what a
crock.

She was still smiling up at him as she said, 'That's right, leave me here for three days with nothing
to do but worry, what do you expect?'

Sirius bent his head and kissed her again before breaking the contact just enough to say, 'As much
as I'd like to stay and be reprimanded some more, there's a certain werewolf waiting for me, and his
tellings-off for tardiness are nowhere near as pleasant as yours.'

'I know–' Hermione started to say, but he cut her off with more lip-based distraction and she
seemed quite pleased to be interrupted. Her hand was in his hair again, pulling him closer, and just
as he began to wonder how angry Remus would be if he was an hour or so late – and completely
useless in his post-shag euphoria – she pulled away and asked leadingly, 'You do get the day off
tomorrow since you've been away right?'

Merlin was she trying to drive him insane? 'What has come over you Granger?' he murmured
before closing the gap once more, This was better than all the other times put together; it wasn't out
of necessity or drink-impaired judgment, she just wanted to kiss him. Bloody brilliant.

'Er … research?' she whispered hesitantly as they broke apart for air.

'Research?' he repeated faintly. The verbal part of his of his brain was being smothered by the
warm, tingling trail her fingertips were leaving as they moved from his hair to his jaw and down
his neck.

'Yes,' she said in an uneven voice when his hand slipped up the back of her shirt again and pulled
her even closer, 'I like to be prepared for things, have as much information as possible.'

'I'm still not quite with you,' he admitted, dipping his head to kiss a path from pulse-point to collar
bone.

'Well …' she fluttered as he made his way back up her lips; he could feel the frantic thudding of
blood beneath the skin of her throat as she continued to speak. 'Since you say I'm staying, I need to
make sure I know what I'm signing up for - I would hate to be misinformed.'

'I feel like I should be surprised by that,' he said with a little laugh that reverberated against her
mouth. 'but I'm really not,'

'It's like you don't know me at all,' she said trying to sound stern as he moved his lips back to her
neck causing her voice to hitch slightly as she went on, 'Maybe you need to revise, I'll lend you my
notes.'

'Please tell this stuff's not in there,' he groaned, resting his forehead on her shoulder, thinking of
their bizarre augment, and how he would come off as a total douche in notarised form, even if she
didn't mention the spewing or her own part in the disaster. 'I know you said you were keeping
records of everything but …'

'No, it's not, of course it's not,' she said quietly, leaning her head against his, 'and I'm still sorry
about all the confusion by the way. You were right after all.'

'I was?' he asked, his voice muffled by her hair that had fallen on his face when she had moved her
head.

'Yes,' she laughed softly, 'don't you remember what you said at the party?'

'Probably not,' he said honestly.

'You said that you still had six weeks to convince me to stay with you, and that you would.'

'Did I?' he cringed, 'Merlin, I'm never drinking with Moody again - you and I hadn't even talked
about it then, had we?'

'No, I was a little surprised.'

'I don't blame you,' he said, and laughed nervously. 'You won't tell anyone what a sappy bastard I
was will you?'

'I think you've got enough dirt on me to know that your secret is safe,' she said, pulling away to
look at him properly before she added cheekily, 'even if it was quite sweet.'

'Urgh, sweet!' Sirius whined, as he stood upright once more. 'Don't you ever say that again,' he said
firmly while trying to frown, but that was quite impossible at the present moment.

'Gotcha,' she said, smiling, and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

'Alright then,' he grinned. 'But no, unfortunately I don't have the day off tomorrow,' he said
exhaling heavily, 'Moody seems to be on a mission to keep me from spending time with you. I
might see his point now… and I still have to go to Grimmauld tomorrow night. But on the upside,'
he added with a smirk, 'I might be late?'

'It doesn't count if you warn me. Then you're not late are you?'

'Oh right,' he laughed, 'so then, I'll definitely be home by six.'

'Very good,' she managed to get out before he claimed her lips again. Moony wouldn't mind
another five minutes.

.
 The Marauding Moon

13th October

Hermione sat curled in the armchair after Sirius left, and tried to concentrate on the print before her
but she was struggling, something she didn't think had ever happened before. She either pretended
to read – to appear distracted while eavesdropping, or to avoid conversation and sometimes Sirius's
irritating babble – or she read. She had never tried to read, but found herself unable. It didn't help
that she kept smiling so widely that her eyes scrunched up and she couldn't see the words properly,
but the real issue was that her mind was still trapped fifteen minutes ago, when there had been a
very attractive man smiling dopily at her as he made her promise to finish what she'd started, as
soon as he returned from Remus duty the following morning.

When she'd tackled Sirius in the doorway, Hermione had surprised even herself; she couldn't
imagine what he must have thought. She had been almost angry at him for most of the day as she
stewed in his little flat, with not much to do to take her mind off the fact that he had said he was
getting back from Suffolk in the morning. By the time four o'clock had rolled around, however, her
annoyance had turned to concern, and instead of stewing, she was fretting. Then she heard his
voice in the hallway as he knocked on the door, and suddenly it all vanished; she was just glad he
was there, and none of it had mattered anymore. Not the muggles, not the Death Eaters, not her fear
of what her life would be like if she stayed and it all went wrong, or worse what it would be like if
she returned to 2001 to find he'd gotten married in her twenty-year absence. So when she'd opened
the door and there was just his tired but pleased face looking at her as though he couldn't have been
happier to see her, she didn't even think about it before launching herself at him.

Now if she could just stop grinning and think, Hermione was ready to throw herself into figuring
out a way for her to live here without the Ministry finding out she had meddled with time. She had
been wondering if she could actually just tell them the truth; surely they would not be too
concerned with her methods, considering she had ended the war, but it would be a huge risk to
take. If they decided that despite her good intentions she had still broken the law, she would have
to leave or else they would lock her up. So it would be a last resort. Frederica was another option,
though Hermione felt that it was poor form to ask the Swiss woman to do more for her; she was
risking quite a lot to back up the story of Hermione's identity for just five months, and the longer
Hermione relied on that alias, the more likely that someone would see through it, so that too would
be left as a plan b.

Hermione knew that even if she sorted things out with the Ministry, she would have to be cautious
forever with the muggle secret service on the lookout for the Russian spy Hermione Granger. Even
though they thought it wasn't her real name, that she had stolen it from an innocent child happily
playing with blocks just down the road in Kensington, it wasn't a safe name to use, and they'd be
looking for her face under any alias. She would probably have to change the way she looked,
which was a bit foreboding but not the end of the world, and stay out of the muggle world as much
as possible, which wasn't so bad as she would have to stay hidden until all the Death Eaters were
rounded up anyway.

Hermione wondered what Sirius had come up with so far. He was clever even if he pretended
otherwise most of the time, and breaking rules was sort of a forte of his, so she was hopeful that his
mischief-filled head would come up with something; even if it wasn't a fully formed plan, a good
idea was a start, and they could work on it together.
Sirius usually took his animagus form for the run in from the edge of the security enchantments to
Remus's well hidden house, but that evening was making the hike on booted foot. He needed his
human brain for a while longer. He was very pleased (very!) that Hermione had taken the initiative
that he, shameful as it was to admit, had been hesitant to. But the stupid contract was playing on his
mind: was it at all possible that Pollux wouldn't find out that the "whole truth" Sirius had confessed
was still woefully incomplete? Could Hermione just keep pretending to be Frederica's daughter
until his grandfather died? Possibly, but how long would that be? … Sirius shook himself mentally;
it was truly evil to wish someone to die just so you could keep some gold.

No, as long as he could find a way for her to be able to stay here safely they would be fine. Aurors
earned enough; he didn't need mounds of gold to keep her happy. He smiled, realising that it may
actually be better that way, as she hated him paying for things. It was possible that the family gold
would pass back to him once his mother and grandfather were gone. Hermione had said he was the
owner of Grimmauld Place in her time; that surely meant that even though he was disowned
magical inheritance laws overrode it. He would have to ask her when they had died in her time;
presumably it would only be fourteen years at the most. Even it was difficult to rely only on his
Auror income, at least there would be light at the end of the financial tunnel.

If the contract wasn't his most pressing concern, that meant that fixing the identity problem should
be top of his list, and as Remus had said he had another plan, Sirius let his mind wander to the
much more pleasant topic of Hermione and her inspired decision to jump him. So distracting was
this remarkable turn of events that Sirius hiked on cheerfully for a while before noticing he had
passed the turnoff to Remus's house ten minutes ago, and had to turn around and double back.

The sun had nearly set by the time he finally reached the well-hidden shack. He knocked softly on
the dilapidated door, remembering that Remus could no longer take pain potions and would have a
splitting headache just like last month.

'Moony,' Sirius called quietly, 'it's Padfoot, sorry I'm late.'

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door and then Remus's voice muttered, 'So you should
be, I had to make my own tea.'

'Sorry,' Sirius said again, feeling a little guilty.

'S'alright Pads,' Remus said, 'you can make the next pot. What was the worst thing that happened to
you during The Project?'

Sirius smiled. 'There were quite a few of those Moony, but I know the one you're thinking of…
Was it end of fourth year? I can't remember now … it wasn't long before we got it right anyway,
but I had to be absolutely silent for two whole days because I couldn't do anything but bark.'

Remus laughed lightly, the previous moodiness leaving his voice. 'Yes, the teachers thought you'd
finally settled down. I've got to admit, it was quite pleasant - I was almost annoyed with Prongs for
finding a way to fix it.'

'I wasn't,' Sirius said vehemently. 'Do you have any idea how much girls talk when you can't tell
them to shut up? But anyway, who did Wormtail and Prongs have to rescue us from in third year
when you got us caught coming out of the forest in the middle of the night?'

'I didn't get us caught,' Remus said slightly indignant, 'you did, and I just couldn't get us un-caught.
But it was Hagrid who had us cornered.' He opened the door and said frowning thoughtfully,
'Hmm, Distract with Facts was still in development then, I didn't realise Hagrid would actually
want to talk to me about knarls. It was a good test, but imagine if I'd given up on it after that?'
'We would probably have been expelled more than once, so I'm glad you pushed through – still,
four hours of conversation about hedgehogs was quite a punishment.' Sirius said, remembering the
shining look on Hagrid's bearded face when Remus had launched into a long explanation about
why they were out in the forest at night, (looking for knarls to observe in the wild) when actually
they had just wanted to have a look around; a place doesn't get a name like The Forbidden Forest
without having some seriously cool and dangerous stuff inside it, and cool and dangerous stuff is
what gets teenage boys out of bed in the morning, so really it was only to be expected that they
would want to have a nosy.

Only he and Remus were caught by the gamekeeper because James and Peter were under the cloak
not ten feet away; at nearly fourteen years old they didn't all fit under it anymore. Since he was the
tallest, Sirius was usually the one to miss out; James was nearly as tall, but it was his cloak, and
Remus and Peter were both still runty then, so if Sirius agreed to a lack of cover, they could still
have three out of four hidden properly. Remus didn't grow until the summer after fourth year; he
swore that his skin hurt because his bones were growing so fast it couldn't keep up, and as he went
from being shorter than Peter to taller than James in the space of three months Sirius wouldn't have
been surprised if it was true. Peter didn't really grow at all from Sirius's point of view - he was eye
level with Sirius's shoulder in first year and the gap was still the same last time they had seen each
other. Peter had been quite annoyed when his short friend Remus had come back to school a head
taller than at the end of the previous term, laughing the loudest when the werewolf had continually
banged his head into things for the first few weeks of the new school year. At every collision,
Remus would mutter that it was all some elaborate prank pulled by his friends so they could laugh
at him, but as James had pointed out at the time, they might be brilliant but even they couldn't
make the portrait hole to Gryffindor tower smaller.

Remus had ducked out from under the cloak on that night in the forest when he saw Hagrid
approaching, and Sirius hadn't noticed him yet and had no place to hide. Remus had just come up
with his new ploy to get out of trouble, and thought Hagrid would be a good test subject; the giant
man liked the four Gryffindors, so if his idea wasn't successful they probably wouldn't get in that
much trouble anyway. But it had worked a little too well, and left Sirius and Remus trapped in
Hagrid's house in the middle of the night getting more information than they had ever wanted about
magical hedgehogs.

'I don't know,' Remus said with a funny little grin stepping aside to let Sirius pass him, 'I still quite
like knarls; they're suspicious, just like me.'

'You seem better this month,' Sirius said as he entered the little house, taking in Remus's half-
smiling face; it was not as strained or as pale, and he seemed to move a bit more freely than last
full moon as he followed Sirius to the furniture in front of the fire.

'I feel a bit better,' Remus agreed, sitting down in his armchair carefully, but not as if every move
was an excruciating effort. 'Lily told me to try willow bark, it's what muggles make aspirin from
and she was sure it wouldn't affect the Wolfsbane. I mean don't get me wrong, it's nothing on real
painkiller, but I sort of feel like it's the day before rather than the day of, if you know what I mean.'

'Things are improving aren't they?' Sirius said happily, falling into to his usual chair. Watching his
friend suffer had always been a harrowing experience; he was almost more grateful to Hermione
for the one little recipe than for all the other stuff combined - almost. Sirius reached for the tin
teapot on the table to refill Remus's cup, only to find it was empty.

'I knew my servants would arrive soon,' Remus said when he heard the clink of the tin. Sirius
looked up to see Remus smiling with his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the chair, tired
but relaxed.
'Servants,' Sirius scoffed amiably, making his way to the kitchen to make a fresh batch, 'you think
a lot of yourself today.'

Remus's grin widened when he heard Sirius opening cupboards to collect tea requirements. 'Well
you're either a servant or a tea lady, which would you prefer?'

'How 'bout an extremely selfless and concerned mate who left a very willing girl, just so he could
come and pour tea for you?' Sirius suggested, filling the teapot and boiling the water with a tap of
his wand.

Remus opened his eyes, surprised and a little uncertain, 'Really Pads? But I thought … Hermione…
have you er, given up?'

'Not at all,' Sirius said, sending the milk jug and sugar bowl ahead of him floating to the table. He
chuckled to himself and added, 'In fact, I didn't even need to try in the first place; she nearly
knocked me to the floor when I got home.'

Remus gave a little snigger. 'It's about time I guess. Is that why you're late?'

Sirius nodded as he carried the teapot across the room. For the first time in his life he didn't really
want to go into detail - not that there was anything to tell really, but it just felt a bit … private.

'I'm assuming it was just a kiss,' Remus said still laughing quietly, 'otherwise you'd have passed out
in the chair the minute you arrived.'

Sirius nodded again, 'Yes Moony, just a kiss.'

'Good for you then,' Remus said. He looked into his empty cup and hesitated for a moment before
saying uncomfortably, 'um, thanks for … you know … choosing me.'

'Shut up, you great sap,' Sirius laughed. 'Of course I would choose you. Don't you know it's my
secret desire to be a canteen lady?'

Remus smiled and handed over his mug for a refill, 'I knew it. You try to hide it, but put a teapot in
your hands and your face lights up like it's your one true calling in life.'

'That's because it is,' Sirius chortled as he poured out two cups. 'I'm only going to be an Auror until
a position opens up in the Ministry dining hall. Hunting dark wizards is a good way to fill the time,
but tea is where it's at. You can help me get lots of practice in so I can dazzle the catering staff with
my beverage distribution skills.' He handed the largest mug to Remus, and grinned at the peaceful
look that passed over the werewolf's face as he wrapped his fingers around the warm cup and took
a sip. 'You should come along on my interview with me – if they saw you falling in love with your
drink they'd be bound to give me the job.' Remus didn't answer, distracted as he was by his one and
only. Sirius let him enjoy himself for a moment and then asked, 'So when's Prongs getting here?'

'Not sure,' Remus answered at length, after a few more luxuriant sips from his mug, 'but he's
definitely coming.' He rummaged in his pocket, and held out a folded piece of parchment. 'Here,
look.'

Sirius took it and recognised Lily's handwriting.

Dear Moony,

I would suggest willow bark when one is suffering from PMT, it will have no adverse effects on
your current medication.
I also am glad to say that venison helps, and as I have far too much at the moment – to the point
where I am sick of looking at it – I will send some over to you this evening.

All my love,

Lily.

Sirius laughed out loud; Lily was such a good match for James, cheeky bird that she was. 'Venison,'
he snickered, 'I bet Prongs wasn't too happy about that.' He looked back at the letter. 'Why does she
say PMT?'

'Pads,' Remus sighed with a touch of exasperation, 'she couldn't exactly say "Take willow bark
before the full moon, you werewolf you, it will be okay with your secret illegal potion."'

Sirius snorted, 'I know, but PMT? Isn't that like …?'

With slightly flushed cheeks Remus said, 'Yes, a lady thing.' Then he shook his head and said
disbelievingly, 'How you lot haven't starting calling this my time of the month yet I'll never know –
I've been waiting for it for 9 years.'

Sirius scrunched up his face uncomfortably, 'Bit on the nose Moony, don't you think?'

'I'm ever grateful that you like to think outside the box,' Remus laughed to himself. 'I've decided
that in this case PMT stands for Pre Moon Tetchiness,' he said, before he drained his cup and held
it out for a refill.

'Tetchiness?' Sirius said as he went about his tea-lady duties. 'And you say I make up words,' he
muttered passing the full cup back.

'Yeah, well anyway,' Remus said, his soft little smile returning now that he was once again in
possession of his mug, 'Prongs will be here soon, and I wanted to tell you before he arrives, I spoke
to Frederica this morning. She's been in eastern Europe for the last two weeks and didn't get a
chance to reply to our letter – she didn't want to write it down, and she had planned to floo me
today anyway to say good luck for tonight –'

'Are you sure she just wants to help you Moony?' Sirius interrupted slyly, 'I know she's a little old,
but … oh I know! You should steal Hermione's Timeturner, then you could go back to when
Frederica was all young and sexy and sweep her off her feet with your pinchable cheeks!'

'Christ, Pads, you've actually gone mental,' Remus said, caught between distinct discomfort and
total amusement at his crazy friend.

'Sorry,' Sirius shrugged, 'but it was bound to happen eventually, Black blood and all that - but go
on, what did she say? Can Hermione be her daughter forever?'

'She said she would see what she could do,' Remus said cautiously. 'You have to remember that
Faustus knows nothing of this. The only reason it works now is because he rarely leaves Zurich,
especially in summer, but that wouldn't last, so he has to agree. Then she would have to forge
documents and all kinds of things to give Hermione a real identity. School records from Salem,
and….' Remus shrugged. 'Well, she rattled off this huge list, and while I feel better than usual I, er,
lost concentration halfway through,' he admitted, slightly embarrassed.

'Now you know what it's like to be me all the time,' Sirius mumbled. 'Moony?' he asked, picking at
the arm of his chair by way of distraction, 'What did she think - you know, about Hermione
staying, um … with me?'
Remus was quiet for a second before replying. 'She didn't mention it, but neither did we remember?
We just said Hermione wanted to stay because she was happier here.'

'That's true,' Sirius said, 'I just wondered …'

'Looking for approval, Pads? That's not like you.'

It really wasn't, Sirius thought. 'Not really,' he said, 'it's just, this is so weird, and I'm not sure what
to do. What if I fuck up – likely outcome since it's me, you'd have to agree – and then she'll have
stayed for nothing, and we would have put everyone through this huge drama to make it work. I
mean, bloody Moody is helping, Moody!'

Remus gave him a slightly stern look, 'Firstly, ouch – you're not her only reason to stay, you big-
headed git. I have it on good authority she's quite fond of me, plus she and Lily get along pretty
well, and Prongs too I'm sure, if she got to know him a bit better. Second, then don't fuck up.'

'But Moony –'

'For goodness sake,' Remus snapped, 'just deal with it, it was all your idea. Think before you talk
and don't screw around on her, how hard is that?'

Sirius looked at him affronted. 'I would never, and actually, I have never done that. Don't be a
wanker.'

'Sorry, moon day makes me grumpy,' Remus huffed.

'Hmm. Right,' Sirius said sceptically. 'So that's your wise advice? Don't say anything stupid and
keep it in my pants? Thanks mate, very useful.'

'Well I don't know do I?' Remus shrugged, 'I give advice from experience, and the last time I gave
up my whoreish ways, bargained my fortune away with my recently-reconciled grandfather, and
killed an evil dark wizard with the help of a time traveller, who I then asked to live in the past with
me… well, it's a little foggy to be honest.'

Sirius's annoyance evaporated as his friend pointed out how ridiculous the situation was. 'Okay,
sorry Moony, you have a point.'

'You'll be fine,' Remus said more kindly. 'You're not that much of an idiot you know, no matter
how often everyone tells you you are.'

Sirius smiled to himself, but didn't reply. Hermione knew what he was like; it would be fine. They
sat in silence for a while, Remus leaning back in his chair, eyes shut, smiling just a little, every so
often holding out his cup for a refill. Sirius's mind was switching between what would be waiting
for him at his flat in the morning, and wondering how much longer James would be. As he looked
at his watch and saw that it was closing in on an hour to go before moonrise he began to worry -
had something happened to James? But even as he thought it, there was a quiet tapping at the door.
Sirius jumped to his feet, eager to see his friend; they hadn't seen each other in person since Sirius's
capture.

'That you Prongs?' Sirius asked when he reached the door.

'No, it's Wormtail,' Peter's happy voice replied. 'I know I told Moony Mum was having a bad week,
but she's feeling better so I thought she'd be all right for the night, and we haven't all been together
for ages.'
Sirius felt all the air vanish from his lungs like he'd been punched in the gut; his insides had
dissolved, and there was nothing but empty, freezing cold trembling in the pit of his stomach, icy
fear that spread until his skin began to tingle and his hands had gone numb.

'Padfoot?' Peter said curiously.

And then it changed, like flicking a switch, and the cold turned boiling hot at the sound of Peter's
voice. A slow, sharp rage ripped through him, Sirius's wand was in his hand and he was reaching
for the door handle when suddenly Remus was next to him.

'Hi, Wormy,' Remus said loudly as he shoved Sirius roughly aside and flicked his wand at his
stumbling friend. He must have cast a silent full body bind because Sirius's arms snapped to his
sides and he toppled over backwards.

'Hi Moony, where'd Padfoot go?' Sirius heard Peter ask as he lay on the floor, immobile and
seething.

'My head is killing me, so I've jinxed him and his chatterbox mouth until moonrise,' Remus said
quickly. 'Thanks for distracting him.'

Peter laughed, 'No problem.'

'Okay Wormtail,' Remus said, and Sirius could hear him force his voice to sound friendly and
relaxed, 'when we were at school, how did you convince Padfoot that his hair had stopped
growing? Which as we all know was very important to him, and caused significant panic before he
figured it out.'

'You helped too,' Peter said with a chuckle, 'I couldn't manage the jinx in the beginning – we
waited until he fell asleep and shrunk it back into his head, one night a week for almost the whole
term.'

'I might have helped, Pete, but it was your idea,' Remus said, 'and the bit about telling him it was
because he didn't eat enough vegetables, that was totally inspired.'

Peter was laughing a little proudly as he asked, 'What did you get the only detention you ever had
to go to alone for?'

'Telling Professor Slughorn to shove it – Christ I hated potions,' Remus replied, then paused. 'Just
hang on a tick Wormy, I think Pads has done something to my locking charms.'

Peter sniggered, 'He never changes, does he?'

'Not at all.'

Remus crouched down next to Sirius, 'Okay Padfoot,' he murmured seriously, his brown eyes were
wide with concern, and very close to Sirius's frozen face. 'Listen. You are either going to have to
leave, or put on a good show - if you let Peter know we're onto him, James will die. You know that
don't you?' He put his hand on Sirius's shoulder and whispered bracingly, 'It will be all right. Only
seventeen days, then we can all tell the truth and live happily.' He stared into Sirius's eyes for a
moment and then said, 'I'm going to let him in. Then I'll unfreeze you. Just concentrate on that:
smile and act normal or James and Lily will die. If you can't do it, just go and I'll make some
excuse alright?'

Sirius couldn't give any indication in his current state but Remus seemed to see that he understood,
because he stood up and turned back to the door. He was right of course, Sirius knew that.
Pettigrew had to believe everything was fine, and James when he arrived too, or he'd never believe
Sirius's plan of switching secret keeper. Could he do it, sit and talk with Peter when all he would be
able to think about was the betrayal? He would try, Sirius told himself, and if it was too hard he
could leave. He was not going to be responsible for another friend's death.

'Got it!' Remus said in a triumphant voice, as though he's just figured out Sirius's security spell
prank, and opened the door.

Peter crossed the threshold and clapped Remus on the shoulder gently saying, 'Hey Moony, you
seem a lot better than normal.'

'Yeah … Lily made this new pain potion,' Remus said, eyes darting back to Sirius's prone form, 'so
I still hurt but it's not as bad.'

'Brilliant,' Peter said with a smile, 'she's so clever, I'm not surprised.' Then Peter was standing over
Sirius, with an amused grin, saying, 'Hi Padfoot.' He glanced at Remus. 'Are you really going to
leave him like this till moonrise?'

'No, I was only joking,' the werewolf said, hovering uncertainly. 'Who will make my tea if he lies
on the floor until then?'

'I'm sure I could manage; I feel like that's all I do now. Mum's becoming an addict, and she's not
just one day a month like you. But it's best to let the expert handle it.' Then he pointed his wand at
Sirius and said 'Finite,' and leaned down to offer Sirius a hand up. Sirius almost recoiled at the
gesture. James and Lily, James and Lily, he repeated in his head as he took Peter's hand and let
himself be pulled to his feet. 'It's good to see you Padfoot, I feel like it's been forever,' Peter said
enthusiastically.

Sirius swallowed and said hoarsely, 'Yeah, I've um … been busy. You know women … take up all
your time.'

'For you maybe,' Peter said, laughing. 'It's not a problem I've run into, unless Mum counts. Is it still
the same one, the Fehr, um, Hermione?'

Was he digging? Was he here to spy for Voldemort? Sirius's head was a swirl of suspicion, Not on
full moon, even Peter wouldn't sink that low, he thought decisively. 'Yes, still Hermione,' Sirius
said, looking anywhere but Peter's happy face.

'Must be getting serious then, is it?' Peter asked. 'You were with her last time I saw you, and that
was ages ago.'

'Not that long Pettigrew,' Sirius said, though he had to agree, it felt like a very long time since he
had fled Peter's house for fear of losing control and killing him. 'Only what? Three months?'

'Yeah I guess.' Peter shrugged.

'Hey tea lady, we could do with a refill over here,' Remus said as he sat in his chair again looking
pointedly at Sirius.

'On it,' Sirius said, grateful for a reason to stop talking to Peter. How he'd love to chew him to
pieces tonight. Fuck! Tonight, Peter shouldn't, couldn't find out about the Wolfsbane. Remus would
know that though, he would just have to pretend… pretending to be angry wouldn't be much of a
stretch, Sirius thought to himself; maybe he could convince him to eat Peter, or at least bite his tail
off, or something in the guise of werewolf fury. Sirius made a new pot of tea, taking as long as he
could to avoid returning to the sitting room and its vermin-filled conversation. Remus was talking
quietly with Peter; he seemed to be able to act like everything was fine very easily.

As Sirius carried the tea pot and third mug to the table, there was another knock at the door.
'Moony?' James's voice called. Sirius set down the tea and returned to the door; he felt a bit like a
house elf this evening, with all the tea and doors. Didn't house elves deal with the cleanliness of
their master's house, too? Rodent removal for instance?

'Prongs,' Sirius said almost with relief, as he reached the worn door. Remembering Remus's
question from earlier he asked, 'Whose fault was it that you and Wormtail had to come and save us
from Hagrid's place in third year?'

James laughed, 'Are you two still arguing about that?'

'Yes,' Sirius said starting to smile despite his simmering fury. 'Well Prongs … my best mate …
whose fault was it?'

'That depends,' James said, 'can Moony hear me?'

'No,' Sirius said as Remus grinned at him from across the room.

'Then Moony's,' James said decisively, 'but as it was in the name of field testing his theory I think
you should forgive him, it's been long enough. What did you do to my Mum that made her so angry
you said, and I quote, "I thought she was going to hang me from the chandelier by my balls"?' He
laughed, and added before Sirius could answer, 'And when she heard you say that she told you not
to rule it out.'

'Merlin that's right,' Sirius said, remembering the terrifying threats from Mrs Potter, 'I was actually
considering running away from your place, too. Your mother was frightening; she always looked a
bit like mine when she got really worked up, must be in the blood. I – by accident – flooded the
second floor of your place just before we went back to school for sixth year.' Sirius opened the door
as he continued, 'That Aguamenti charm killed me, bloody easiest thing ever now, but I don't think
I've ever had to try so sodding hard to get a spell right.'

'Yeah, remember? Mum didn't let us do magic at home until we were of age after that, she reckons
the wallpaper in her studio is still stained,' James said, frowning at Sirius for a moment as he
relived the horror, then he pulled him into a quick back slapping hug.

'I remember that,' Peter piped up.

'Pete!' James said excitedly, releasing Sirius and going to join the other two in the sitting room, 'I
didn't know you were coming, how's your Mum?'

'Much better thanks,' Peter said quietly, with a glance at Remus.

'How's the head Rem?' James asked, lowering his voice and grimacing guiltily as he realised that
he had been quite exuberant in his greetings.

'Not too bad,' Remus smiled, 'you're pretty lucky with that clever wife of yours.'

'I know,' James said, falling onto the couch beside Peter and butting the smaller man with his
shoulder, 'Sorry Pete, what were you saying?'

'I remember when you two were banned from magic at home, ' Peter said. 'I think it's the only time
I saw you angry at Padfoot – well, other than the incident – but after the flood you guys didn't talk
for like the whole train ride to school, and all through dinner.'
Remus gave a little chuckle, 'Yeah, me and Pete were so worried when you still weren't talking at
breakfast the next day… we thought your friendship was ruined forever.'

Sirius was still standing awkwardly by the door, so impressed that Remus was able to talk to Peter,
to laugh with him; when James grinned over at him, inviting him to laugh at the idea their
friendship could be "ruined forever", Sirius focused on James and smiled. 'You were only so angry
because I turned seventeen four months before you, and were shit scared of what I was going to do
to you over the Christmas holidays when you couldn't fight back.'

'That was the best Christmas though, all of us together,' Remus cut in, then looked at James and
said shrewdly, 'Is that why you asked us to stay Prongs? To protect you from Pads?'

'Er … maybe?' James said sheepishly.

'Hey! I played fair; it was muggle tactics all the way,' Sirius said, crossing the room and sitting in
his usual armchair. He could get through this as long as he pretended everything was fine, just a
full moon like the old days. He'd talked to his mother, hadn't he? Peter might be a traitor but Sirius
didn't think he believed in Voldemort's cause; Peter didn't hate muggleborns or werewolves or
think he was better than everyone else. He was scared more than evil. If Sirius could sit before his
fairly-evil mother and smile, and not loathe her when she was an ultimately more bigoted and
pride-blinded person than Peter ever would be, then he could do this to keep James and Lily alive.
And it was only an hour till moon up now anyway.

'That's true,' James said grudgingly, 'but only after Rem tackled you and Pete sat on your chest so I
could get your wand.'

Sirius laughed as he remembered the sudden shock of strong werewolf arms around his knees, a
huge crash as he hit the ground, and a rather fat bottom squishing the oxygen out of him on the
Potters' living room floor. 'Mate, I might have been a Gryffindor but you do not grow up in The
House of Black without learning not to give up your advantage willingly.'

They all laughed, and when Remus held out his mug Peter took it before Sirius could, saying, 'Can
I do it? I feel like I've been missing out - I love Remus's tea face.'

James sniggered, 'Yeah, some things never change.'

Peter poured the tea and when he handed the mug back to Remus the werewolf obliged them with
an over-the-top look of love, and almost indecent sigh of contentment that had even Sirius giggling
slightly - not as much at the other two, who were wiping at their eyes and overcome with silliness,
but it was funny. It was easier than he'd thought to forget, thank goodness. When they had calmed
down a bit Peter asked, 'So how was the birthday party? Sorry I couldn't make it.'

'It was great,' James said, 'you missed Padfoot puking all over his bird.'

'You, Potter, can fuck right off,' Sirius said with an embarrassed chuckle. 'It was next to her, and
from what I hear your sofa still reeks, so you can't talk. At least I had the decency to do it outside.'

'You spewed, Padfoot?' Peter asked, small eyes wide in disbelief. 'Prongs I don't doubt, but you
never spew.'

'It was the bloody wolf and his cards,' Sirius said throwing Remus a look, 'and Moody poisoned
me.'

Peter shuddered, 'Oh I hate that game.'

'You and me both,' James said, clinking his tea cup against Peter's in solidarity, as though they had
some manly alcoholic beverage, rather than milky earl grey.

'Maybe you're just getting old, Pads,' Remus said with a snicker, 'you'll be twenty two next month
… liver's not what it used to be …'

'You are getting far too cheeky on moon day, Mr Lupin,' Sirius said trying to sound threatening, but
as James was laughing at him and prodding his gut for signs of decrepitude the effect was ruined
slightly. 'I think you're doing it on purpose 'cause you know we won't get you back.'

Remus gave a little shrug and said with an impish smirk, 'And what? You lot have to be nice to me
… or I might eat you later.'

Sirius just grinned at the werewolf as Peter and James continued to laugh. It was so amazing that
Remus really could joke about it now, that for all the bullshit they had been through - for having to
drink tea with a traitor, for all the fear of Voldemort winning after all, or of burning half of England
to the ground with uncontrollable Fiendfyre - whatever happened, no matter what, Remus would
have his own mind every day for rest of his life, and that was pretty bloody brilliant.
 Murmurs and Matches

15th October

Hermione had promised that she'd finish what she'd started, and had been looking forward to doing
just that. It was through no fault of her own that the morning following the full moon found that
promise broken. When she had opened the door for Sirius at twenty-eight past seven on his return
from Remus's he had kissed her on the cheek, said 'I'm so fucking late' and hurtled into the
bedroom – returning in less than a minute, to where she still stood at the open door, weaving
slightly as he tried to kiss her again, pull his Ministry robes on and get out the door all at once.
Calling back up the stairs as he thundered down towards the street that his grandfather could 'suck
it' and that he would be home straight after work.

This had not gone to plan either. Even though Sirius had come home right after work at six last
night, he had also been asleep where he fell, face buried in the sofa and snoring loudly enough to
annoy Staple-face through the wall, in the time it took for Hermione to make a cup of tea. It was
only then that she added up how his last few days had been: it was Wednesday evening, and on
Saturday morning he had gone camping with Frank, returning tired from three nights sleeping
rough and keeping watch, only to spend a day at the office, then run off into the woods where he
no doubt spent the whole of Tuesday night awake and running around with Remus. It was a wonder
she hadn't opened the door to find him asleep in the hallway, really.

'Sirius,' Hermione said, as she shook his shoulder where he was still face down on the couch on
Thursday morning.

For a moment she wondered if he had suffocated himself in the night, until he gave a mumbled
groan and then said in a heavily muffled voice, 'If it's tomorrow I'm going to kill myself.'

'Please don't.' Hermione said.

'Fuuuck!' was his only reply. But then his stomach gave a vibrating gurgle and he asked meekly,
'Do I smell toast?'

'Yes,' Hermione said with a tiny laugh, 'it's right here.' How he could smell anything except sofa
was beyond her.

He rolled onto his side, drowsy eyes lighting up as she held the plate out to him. She picked up the
second marmite-smeared slice before he could get both of them; she had made them for herself
after all. He hauled himself upright, looking very disgruntled about being awake, but a few bites of
toast seemed to happy him up because after a moment, he half-smiled at her, and said thickly
around his mouthful, 'Hermione, you're magnificent.'

'Thank you,' she said, as she stood in front of him munching her own piece of toast.

'What time is it?' he asked when he'd finished the piece and rested his head on the back of the sofa,
closing his eyes once more.

'Five past seven.'

'Why didn't you wake me up last night? I'm sick of sleeping on my own couch.' He frowned, and
with his eyes shut the expression made Hermione want to laugh.

'I did try,' she said holding in her giggle, 'but you weren't having a bar of it – and anyway then I
would have had to give up my solitude.'

'Would that be so bad?' he mumbled, still looking like he was deciding whether or not he was going
to be awake at all.

'With the way you were snoring last night, yes,' she said honestly. 'I could hear you with all the
doors closed; I cast a silencing charm in the end.'

Suddenly his eyes snapped open and his arm shot out to seize her wrist, jerking her forward so she
collapsed against him in a very unladylike straddling position, their faces very close together. His
hands were on either side of her waist and he looked amused at her surprised expression. 'Well I
wouldn't have been sleeping would I? So it wouldn't have been a problem,' he said cheekily, before
brushing his lips against hers in a tender little kiss that was quite at odds with the wicked glint in
his eyes.

'To be honest I don't think you would have been capable of anything but sleep last night,' Hermione
said matching his teasing tone, even though she was slightly flustered by the abrupt change in
mood.

'You're probably right.' He sighed, head tilting back against the sofa to look at her; he still looked
worn out, his face darker under the eyes than usual, and the tiny line between his eyebrows
suggesting he wasn't completely at ease, even though his fingers were tracing little idle shapes
where they rested on her hips, distracting her from the teasing.

'How was Remus's, did you have fun?' she asked to help her focus.

'I actually did, though … Pettigrew was there,' he said. One set of tracing fingertips snuck beneath
the hem of her t-shirt and continued their pattern-making against her skin, but she hardly noticed;
his mention of Peter was quite enough to keep her mind on the conversation.

'What!' She had horrified visions of their plan falling apart completely because the walls of
Remus's sitting room were now painted with rat guts.

'I know,' he said, 'but it wasn't that bad, it was kind of like the old days … Prongs and … well,' he
shrugged, 'I can see how Pettigrew tricked us last time - he was so happy last night.'

'Sirius, I'm impressed,' Hermione said truthfully, and very relieved, 'I didn't think you'd be able to
cope with that. Especially knowing your reaction last time you saw him.' She put her hand on his
shoulder and squeezed it slightly. 'Well done.'

'Moony did have to jinx me when Pettigrew first arrived,' Sirius admitted, the corner of his mouth
turning up ruefully, 'but I got there in the end; apparently my newfound restraint extends to traitors
as well as … you.'

'Restraint?' she asked with a skeptical look down at his wandering hand, which had been working
its way farther and farther up her side as they talked.

He grinned and said with a succinct little nod, 'Yes, like how I'm going to go to work now instead
of staying here.'

'I think that's priorities, rather than restraint,' she said, smiling at his apparent conviction.

His head fell back against the sofa again as he exhaled heavily. 'It's really really not.'

'How long have you been practicing this restraint then?' she asked amused, and quite flattered at the
pained look on his face.

'Forever,' he grumbled, 'but it's going to come crashing down if I don't move,' and suiting actions to
the last word, the hand that had been edging lightly over her ribs gripped her side firmly, and at the
same time he slotted the other one under her legs and tipped her swiftly onto the sofa beside him.

He grinned as she tried to right herself, shoving her hair out of her face and sputtering in shock at
the unceremonious turfing.

'Sorry,' he said smirking, and not looking sorry at all, 'but truly, crashing.' He leaned over and
pressed his lips to her forehead as she glared at him, then he stood and looked down at her, clearly
mocking her stern, unimpressed face with one of his own. 'Cheer up,' he said, before chuckling
again as he left the room without another word. He returned after ten minutes, showered, shaved,
and Ministry robed, with a grin at her still-annoyed expression. 'I know I'm something amazing but
you'll just have to wait a while longer; priorities, as you say.'

'You'll be bloody lucky,' Hermione muttered, and she almost meant it, smug twat that he was.

He swooped in for one last peck to her firmly closed lips, and she turned her face away so that he
caught her cheek instead. He just sniggered and said, 'That, Granger, is called cutting off one's nose
to spite one's face.' Sirius was still laughing quietly to himself as he headed for the door.

'Good lord,' Hermione snorted to herself in disbelief as the latch clicked shut behind him. How
could anyone be so insanely confident? It was very unnerving.

Remus woke up Thursday morning in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He often spent a day or two
following the full moon there, at Madam Pomfrey's invitation. She still liked to see him, and with
seven years' practice at healing the wounds he inflicted on himself while he was a pupil she was
very adept at fixing him up. There was the added benefit of not having to go to St Mungo's where
while he might receive treatment, it was with fearful hands and a cold glare from the staff. A glare
that clearly suggested it had been very irresponsible of him to become a werewolf in the first place,
and how dare he use up their time each month with trifles like torn ligaments and deep gaping
wounds, when there were human patients suffering from head colds to be attended to? Remus liked
to avoid the hospital as much as possible. The Hogwarts matron's concerned tutting and kind words
might make him feel like a little boy at times, but it was much preferable to the hostile atmosphere
at St Mungo's.

With the Wolfsbane, Remus hardly needed to be there at all, but it would have worried Madam
Pomfrey if he hadn't shown up, and even without significant damage to heal, sleeping the day away
on Wednesday had been exactly what he wanted. Madam Pomfrey was pleased at his lack of
injuries, though skeptical; he had told her vaguely that the wolf just hadn't been very angry for
some reason, claimed more overall soreness and aches than he actually felt, and declined further
examination. His only injury this month was a suspiciously antler-shaped graze across his shoulder,
where a protective stag had intervened to stop the wolf chewing on a certain rat's tail, an action
suggested to the wolf by a large black dog to ensure that the rat believed the wolf was his normal
truculent, bitey self; the dog seemed to find it very entertaining when the rat squealed and spent
most of the night trembling in a rabbit hole. Remus wasn't quite sure how he could explain having
only one random injury, so had accepted a potion for bruising and one for sleeping, and hoped she
wouldn't ask.

Madam Pomfrey released him Thursday morning, and he slipped out of the hospital wing to get on
with his business. The real reason he was at Hogwarts was not the Matron's doctoring skills, but
that Frederica had asked him to gather information on the Salem Institute for her. Frederica had not
agreed to help with "Keep her here" yet, but Remus felt that she might, and if the Swiss woman
said yes then they suddenly had a lot more time to come up with a final solution. Hermione would
be fine hiding for another few months while they sorted it out, and a delay on her public
appearance was really for the best because Dumbledore had given Remus some distressing
information.

The Headmaster had heard through one of his sources – who Remus now knew was Snape – that
the Death Eaters had been told to kill Hermione Fehr on sight if they came across her. Her sudden
apparition out on the morning of Sirius's escape and failure to meet with them was an insult to their
organization, and such rudeness seemed to warrant death in Voldemort's eyes. Disrespect was a
feeble excuse to single someone out, since the general Death Eater Code of Ethics was to kill non-
followers on sight anyway; Dumbledore suspected that it was a cover for some deeper reasons
unknown. All motive aside, they were out to get her already, and if she was known to be involved
in the death of Voldemort in two weeks time, then the hunt for Miss Fehr by leaderless and
distraught Death Eaters would only intensify after Hallowe'en. Hermione would need to stay out of
the public eye until they were all rounded up; knowing Hermione, Remus thought that delays in
establishing her identity might be a more convincing reason for her to keep her head down than an
amorphous threat.

When he spoke with Sirius, Remus had not gone into too much detail about Frederica's interest; he
didn't want to get his friend's hopes up only to have them dashed away if Frederica said no, which
was still a possibility. If they were going to do it right Lady Fehr would have to convince her
brother and nephew to sign off on it, and agree to authorise a false documentation of Hermione's
life, including a Swiss birth certificate and apparition license, and records of her tutoring until she
had attended Salem. Hermione would also need written references from Faustus and his son Falco
if she wanted to apply for a Ministry position in Britain; it would seem very odd for her not to have
them considering a recommendation from the Senior Under-Secretary to the Swiss Chancellor, and
one from the Head of the International Magical Relations Department would basically guarantee
her a job. Because giving Hermione the ability to work was really the whole reason they were
going to so much trouble in the first place, it was very important that they had everything in order.

Aside from Lady Fehr's problem of getting the family's support, the unexpected fly in the ointment
was Hermione's paperwork from Salem; a foreign education had seemed a convenient lie at the
time, but was now causing nothing but headaches. Frederica had worked in education for many
years, but the European and American systems were very different from each other, and she had no
contacts at Salem. Lady Fehr had set Remus the task of finding out as much as he could about the
American way of schooling so that they would be able produce a believable record of Hermione's
time there if it was necessary. Hogwarts was as likely as the bookstore to have useful information
on educational systems, and frankly, he and Sirius had worn out their welcome at Flourish and
Blotts.

After five hours spent hunched at a table in the staff reading room of the school library, even
studious Remus had reached the end of his concentration. So he went about putting the books
away, and filing his large sheaf of notes into the folder he was keeping track of all their plans in,
helpfully labeled "KHH" by Sirius in case Remus was in danger of forgetting their goal. Remus
couldn't help but grin at the paperwork, despite the strike-throughs of red ink crossing out bad
ideas. The notes were mostly dense paragraphs of his own utilitarian hand, but there were also
short additions in Sirius's significantly more loopy scrawl. These were more commentary than
actual planning, along the lines of "Moony this is brilliant and will totally work, remember I am a
genius." Or "You are so daft, stop worrying – of course I won't lock her up until we find a
solution." Or "Are you sure we can't just smash the Timeturner?" The one that made him laugh
however was six words scribbled after seven pages of their failed immigration idea – "I think my
brain is melting." Remus had to admit that he agreed; the immigration waffle was difficult even for
him to get his head around.

Remus nodded good bye to Madam Pince and began the long trek down through the castle and out
into the grounds for his appointment at the Hogshead. It wasn't a full Order meeting, but a team
assignment. The information Frank Longbottom and Sirius had collected over the previous
weekend had convinced Moody that it was time to act on the Pussycat Pilferers of Suffolk.
According to the constricting rules placed upon the Aurors by the legislation committee of the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, there was not enough evidence to warrant a Ministry
arrest party. Fortunately the Order of the Phoenix were not bound by such silly laws as evidence -
in the eyes of the Ministry they did not exist at all, and how do you regulate an imaginary
organisation?

Remus turned down a side street in the village to reach the inn, with its decapitated boar-head
signage creaking in the breeze. He hoped he was a little early; if he was the first one there he
would be able to ask Dumbledore – again - for the Timeturner back, something he had been doing
every time he saw the old wizard. Once it was safely back in Hermione's possession he would feel
a lot better about having taken it in the first place. Ignoring the seedy looking patrons and the
slightly goaty aroma of the tap room, Remus made his way to the bar. The wizened, grey haired
Aberforth manned his post at the taps, by all accounts looking like he was cleaning; as filthy as the
place was, Remus suspected it was just a clever ruse. Aberforth dipped his head in recognition as
Remus approached. 'Lupin, what can I get you?'

'A Redcurrant Rum, no ice with a pink umbrella,' Remus said quietly. Aberforth was not entirely
enthusiastic about hosting covert Order meetings in the basement room of his bar, and Remus often
thought he made the passphrase drink order overly feminine on purpose to annoy someone –
probably Moody, as it would hardly irritate the headmaster, and did more harm than good when
Sirius or James was involved. The barman simply nodded and stepped aside as Remus crossed the
dirty floor to the cellar door. The second password, "Fudge flies" unlocked the door; Remus closed
and locked it behind him before descending the short set of stairs and following the lamp-lit
passage to the meeting room.

The door was thick oak, hinged and braced with iron; he raised his fist to knock, but hesitated as he
heard voices within. If it wasn't only two days after the full moon – when his hearing was still
better than humans – he doubted he would have caught the muted tones at all. But it was, and he
did.

'Albus, are you sure?' asked Alastor Moody's gravelly whisper.

There was a sigh before Dumbledore's voice answered, 'Not at all, but Nicolas is continuing to
develop his hypothesis, he is confident he will reach a conclusion soon.'

'It's a big risk to take,' Moody said warily.

'I am aware of that,' Dumbledore replied calmly.

Silence, broken only by a tapping of wood on wood, was all that Remus could hear for a moment,
and then Moody said grudgingly, 'You're right though, it's for the best.'

'Indeed.' Dumbledore's voice was soft, and almost regretful with the word.

It was quiet again with the continuing tapping beating out a thoughtful rhythm. 'Black will not be
happy,' Moody growled, tone low like he was irritating himself with his own comment.

'He will understand,' Dumbledore said, though he sounded uncertain, 'it's much better to be safe.'
'And the girl,' Moody pushed on, 'she'll be devastated.' The tapping increased its pace for a few
seconds and then, in a nearly petulant voice the Auror said, 'You're telling them, not me.'

Remus almost missed Dumbledore's next words of, 'We will wait until the day, let them be happy
for now,' because his heart was thudding loudly in his ears. What did they mean - did Hermione
have to go back? Why wouldn't they tell her?

'You're too soft Albus, they should know,' Moody said, echoing Remus's own thoughts.

'It could affect their determination – we need everything to go to plan,' Dumbledore said, and
Remus felt the worry in him change to anger. Trust Dumbledore for that - the plan must come first.

What would happen if Hermione and Sirius knew that she was leaving? They wouldn't give up on
the ambush or Horcrux destruction, Remus was sure about that. He even thought that Sirius, no
matter how often he said Hermione was staying, was prepared deep down for it not to happen.
Wouldn't it better for them to know it was coming? Or to let them be happy as Dumbledore said?

It was a little odd that Moody seemed to think it would worry Hermione more than Sirius. Remus
wasn't aware that anyone knew that she and Sirius were anything more than close friends, but the
older men on the other side of the door were talking like the pair were some tragic, love-struck
couple who couldn't bear to be parted from each other. Even Remus thought that was a bit over the
top; he might not be looking forward to spending twenty years in the company of a surly Padfoot
while they waited for Hermione to return, but it wasn't the end of the world.

Moody was speaking again. 'Right. And the other one?'

'I will see to that this week,' Dumbledore assured the Auror.

Remus couldn't make heads or tails of this confusing exchange – the other what? - but he didn't
have long to think about it because the continual tapping came to an abrupt stop and Moody asked,
'When are the others getting here?'

'Should be anytime,' Dumbledore said, and there were suddenly heavy, mismatched footfalls
growing louder on the other side of the door.

Remus hastily knocked, and the door was pulled open immediately, 'Lupin,' Moody said, surveying
him suspiciously, 'good. Did you bring Black?' He poked his grizzled head out into the corridor to
look around.

'No, is he coming too?' Remus was confused; it was only coming up on five thirty and Sirius would
still be at work. It sort of defeated the purpose of skipping out early only to come and meet your
boss.

'Yes,' Moody said closing the door behind Remus, ' he and Longbottom will be our watch since
they know the area, but it's better if I'm the only Auror doing the capturing – the higher-ups won't
fire me for getting caught up in Order business.'

Remus sat at the table, head still filled with the previous conversation, and thinking that Sirius
would no doubt be rather pissy that he had to come along just to be on watch duty. Not to mention
leaving Hermione alone yet again. Still, they hadn't been on an Order mission together for months
so Remus couldn't help but be a little excited. 'And Edgar, he's coming too?' Remus asked in an
effort to push the overheard words from his mind. He couldn't do anything about it right now.

'Yes, we three will go in, Black and Longbottom will guard in case of anti-disaps and such, and I
want to cut down on the red tape so we'll be saying the Death Eaters we get turned themselves in to
Black and Longbottom.'

Remus smiled, 'Sirius will like that, he's always whinging about the paperwork.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'Yes, he always did have a disinclination where theory was involved.'

'Picked the wrong career then, didn't he?' Moody grouched.

'Professor, can I have it back now?' Remus asked suddenly and without preamble, knowing the
Headmaster would understand exactly what 'it' was as Remus had posed the same question every
time they had met. He really wanted to get the Timeturner back to Hermione, even if it was going
to mean making Sirius very annoyed at him for enabling her to leave; the discussion he had
eavesdropped on suggested that might be unavoidable, but with luck it wasn't necessary to have
Hermione angry at him for stealing it from her. Remus didn't have a set plan of how he was going
to switch it with the copy he had given her, but the first step would be to actually have the real one
to swap it with.

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment and then said, 'Why yes Remus, Nicolas has
discovered all he can from it directly, and is happy to work from his notes for further insight.' The
Headmaster took the bronze hourglass from his pocket and handed it to Remus.

'This is the real one?' Remus asked. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to try and pull and fast
one. Like you did? He asked himself regretfully.

'Yes Remus. I made you a promise. Do try and get it back without her finding out – she is not a
woman to be on the bad side of.'

Remus nodded as he remembered warning Sirius of the same thing - being burned alive by
Fiendfyre would not be a pleasant way to die. 'What did you and Flamel find out?' he asked
innocently, tucking the timeturner away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

'Nothing concrete yet, but we are hopeful to make some firm deductions before it is too late,'
Dumbledore said.

There was a knocking at the door and Moody stood to answer it, leaving Remus to Dumbledore's
unperturbed gaze. Remus was irritated at the lack of information, but tried to keep his face
impassive. He didn't know what to do, but he would leave it for tonight - perhaps he could confront
Dumbledore alone next week. He tried to set those thoughts aside for now, and stood up to greet
Edgar Bones who had just entered the room.

Edgar was not the usual Order member - he was older than most of them, over forty, and always
well turned out, rather than wearing the casual muggle or wizard attire most of them preferred or
even Moody's severely practical fighting robes. In fact, Remus didn't think he'd ever seen him in
robes, even though he was a pureblood. He generally looked like a muggle farmer dressed for a
day in town: trousers and waistcoat sometimes a bowtie, and always a sports coat, always.

'Hello there Remus,' he said tipping his tweed flat cap at him, 'keeping well?'

'Very well Edgar, thanks,' Remus said. 'How are the boys?'

'The lads are well,' he said with a nod, taking a seat opposite Remus at the table. 'Graeme has just
started at Hogwarts you know, he's a good boy, likes books. It will be Aaron we have to watch, he's
starting next year - not quite so fond of structure is that one.'

'Are you talking about me?' Sirius and Frank had arrived; Sirius pulled the seat out beside Remus
and sat down, grinning. 'I do hate structure.'

'No,' Remus laughed, 'we were taking about Edgar's boys; his eldest started at Hogwarts this term.'

'Right,' Sirius said, looking thoughtful for a second as though trying to remember something.
'Graeme?' he asked.

'Yes,' Edgar said, 'he was sorted into Ravenclaw much to our surprise - Boneses have been
Hufflepuffs for quite a few generations now. But still, it never hurts to break the mould.'

'I know that firsthand,' Sirius said proudly. 'First non-Slytherin Black in centuries, I was.'

Frank, who had sat down next to Edgar, said, 'The number of times I wished they'd got you. Still I
only had to try and keep you in line for two years.' He looked at Remus and said, 'Weren't you a
prefect Lupin? How on earth did you cope with him and Potter?'

'Cope,' Sirius scoffed.

But Remus cut him off with a despondent shake of his head and said, 'Very poorly Longbottom,
very poorly.'

Edgar and Frank both chortled and then Moody spoke up from the other end of the table where he
had been speaking with Dumbledore, 'At least you could see the light at the end of the tunnel – I'm
stuck with him until he drives me to an early retirement. Or grave,' he added with a look at Sirius.

Sirius just shrugged and said, 'The choice is yours old man.'

Moody glowered for a moment and then said, 'Right, listen up. We need to round up these Death
Eaters in Suffolk. According to the witness statements Longbottom has collected, they have been in
the same place for two nights now. Whatever they are doing out there is unusual and I want to put
a stop to it before it becomes a problem, and before they move on. Bones, Lupin, and I will be
going into the forest we think they're hiding in. Black and Longbottom, you'll be our back-up - but
I don't really want to get you involved unless we need you.'

Remus looked at Sirius to see him frowning in Moody's direction; clearly he hadn't been told he
wouldn't get to do any of the fun stuff.

The five men crouched together in a small circle, gathered together under trees at the edge of a
dense forest near the Suffolk coast. The evening had darkened to night, and the breezes off the
ocean smelled lightly of salt; it was pleasant enough, and quite mild for October, but Sirius thought
he wouldn't be out here if he had a choice anyway.

'Alright,' Moody began, no doubt to go over the plan again. It was like he thought no one listened
to him, or maybe he just liked talking. 'The thieving raids normally start about ten so we want find
the camp when they're down to two men.' Moody looked at Sirius sternly, 'You're not to come in
unless one of us sends you a patronus asking you to.'

'We know Moody, we'll wait here,' Frank said quickly, realising that Sirius was about to say
something that would earn at least one of them a cane whacking. Sirius thought Frank was getting
very good at recognising the signs, and seemed to know before he himself did half the time.

'So what,' Sirius said, undermining Frank's attempt to keep him safe from the walking-stick, 'we're
all just going to sit around here until ten?'
'Yes Black, do you have somewhere more important to be?' Moody said, readjusting his cane
threateningly. Sirius didn't answer; Moody really was trying to keep him away from Hermione. But
that wasn't why he was annoyed, not really. It was more that they were running out of time; he'd
had no new ideas for "keep her here" in a week, and it was starting to worry him. 'I didn't think so.'
Moody grunted.

Sirius sat in silence for the rest of Moody's briefing, picking at the grass beside him angrily. He
didn't need to be here, it was two Death Eaters and some cats for Merlin's sake, so pointless. It was
only when he'd ripped quite a substantial bald patch in the earth beside him that he noticed he was
nearly alone; Frank, Edgar and Moody had moved off and were crowded around a map rolled out
on the ground.

'Cheer up Pads,' Remus said, coming over to meet him, 'we've not been out for the Order together
since March – that's fun isn't it?'

'Except we're still not are we?' Sirius grumbled, 'You get to go noisy crook catching and I have to
stay here like a good boy with Franky.'

'Yeah but we're bringing the Death Eaters in under the Order so you won't have to do any
paperwork,' Remus said, obviously looking for anything positive to shake Sirius's sullen mood.

'Yes I will,' Sirius said resigned, 'not as much granted, the turn-in forms are only four pages rather
than the thirteen-page capture ones.'

'That why Moody's got you and Franky waiting here,' Remus said, 'so he can force the Death Eaters
to "turn themselves in" to you.'

Sirius sighed. It was such a waste of time; any Auror could being doing this, so why did it have to
be him? 'I know,' he muttered, 'it's just …'

'If this is about shagging you can just shut up,' Remus said warningly.

'No, it's not,' Sirius said, glad that it actually wasn't so he didn't feel too much of a twat, 'I mean
fifteen days and no solution, and mate,' he sighed again, 'it's just fucked… don't worry, I'm just
being a sad bastard.'

'Tell me about it,' Remus agreed with an sharp elbow into Sirius's side.

'What are you two ladies whispering about?' Frank asked, smiling down at them; he must have left
the grown-ups and their confidential map party to look for entertainment.

'Shagging,' Remus said blithely, making Sirius chuckle under his breath despite his bad mood and
sore ribs - the werewolf had pointy elbows.

'Each other?' Frank asked, sitting down on the grass with a little laugh at his own joke.

'Yes,' Sirius confirmed with a straight face.

'Good for you,' Frank said smiling widened as he waited for them to start laughing.

Sirius nearly did when Remus said, very sombrely, 'Thanks Franky, that means a lot,' but held it in.

Frank knew they were only kidding but he still looked confused. 'Franky? Not too keen on that to
be honest.'
Remus shrugged and said in his still-serious voice, 'Sorry Franky.'

'What's with you two tonight?' Frank asked looking between the pair of them their deadpan faces
seemed to unsettle him.

'Nothing,' they both answered in the monotone.

'I thought I was getting away from the boring duo coming over here, but at least they're talking
about the mildly interesting topic of Edgar's eldest boy's latest Transfiguration marks.'

Remus snorted, 'Right.'

'Did you bring any cards Moony?' Sirius asked, deciding that he was only going to get more and
more frustrated the longer he sat here with nothing to do.

'I did,' Remus confirmed flipping over the flap of his bag and starting to root around inside it.

Sirius looked at Frank. 'Poker, Longbottom?'

'We've nothing to bet,' Frank said, as Remus withdrew his trusty deck of cards. They were just
muggle ones, but he carried them everywhere; the life of an Order member involved a lot of
waiting around, and while Remus himself was happy to read, quite often it turned out that the light
was too bad, or there were more people waiting together, or you were just a bit too keyed up for
something as calm as a book.

'Hang on,' Remus said, rummaging in the bottom of his bag with his tongue between his teeth and
his face screwed up slightly in concentration, 'Ah ha!' he exclaimed triumphantly as he pulled out a
matchbook.

'Where'd you get that?' Sirius asked. Wizards as a general rule did not carry matches; there was no
point when your wand lit fires much more effectively.

'This girl I know,' Remus said with a significant look at Sirius, 'she was staying in a hotel.'

'Oh right,' Sirius said quickly, annoyed that he hadn't found them himself; matches were great, like
muggle magic. 'Neat, can I've a go?'

Remus shook his head. 'They're for betting.'

'I won't let them burn all the way,' Sirius wheedled with a grin, 'please? I haven't used matches in
ages.' Frank laughed at the pair of them.

'Fine,' Remus said exasperatedly, trying not to smile. 'Child!' he added as he threw them at his
easily-amused friend.

Sirius caught the little book and flipped it open. Tearing one of the matches loose he dragged it
quickly across the striker, and burst into a pleased grin when it worked first time and the head gave
a little hiss and burst into flame - it really was like magic. He shook it so that it went out and ripped
another free, smiling smugly when he did it successfully twice in a row.

'Why are you so good with muggle stuff, Black?' Frank asked, looking just about as enthralled as
Sirius was as he blew on the second match, and a little trickle of smoke furled in the air. It was so
silly, just a bit of flame, but the fact that he had no idea how it worked made it quite fascinating.

Remus let out an odd noise of skepticism, and they both looked at him. 'Frank, are you kidding?
He's useless at muggle stuff.'

'Not true,' Frank disagreed, 'he cooked us dinner every night when we were out here; it was very
impressive.'

'You hear that Moony? ' Sirius gloated as he lit another match with a flourish, 'Impressive.'

'Purebloods,' Remus grumbled, 'I don't know how you survive.'

'With magic,' both Frank and Sirius replied; they looked at each other and burst out laughing as
Remus rolled his eyes.

'Will you three keep it down!' Moody shot over at them.

Remus finally laughed when Sirius – a little carried away with his own cleverness at match
lighting – managed to catch several of the loose, tattered threads at the knee of his jeans on fire,
and Frank panicked and sent a large gush of water from his wand at Sirius's smouldering trouser
leg. Sirius thought he might have been a bit overzealous on purpose, likely jealous of Sirius's
excellent muggle skills.

Three hours and twenty two hands of poker later, Remus followed Moody and Edgar's path through
the close-growing trees of the young forest. Unlike the twisted gnarled trunks of the ancient trees in
the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts these ones were straight, and quite orderly. It was different, too,
from the glen where he and his friends had spent the first full moons after Hogwarts; the
undergrowth in the glen seemed to take on a life of its own, snaking up the oaks and ash as though
determined to strangle them and win possession of the highland valley. Here near the sea, the
ground cover was much lower, and seemed happy to let the trees be in charge for a while longer.
Young was of course a relative term when it came to forests, but without the tangles of underbrush
or contortions of old growth, the groves seemed almost organised.

They had been walking through the neatly-arranged forest for long enough that Remus had begun
to catalogue the species of flora they were passing to keep himself occupied, when Moody came to
an abrupt halt in front of him. 'Lupin,' he said in a hushed growl, 'what can you hear?'

Remus listened; he knew this was why Moody had asked for him specifically to come along
tonight; wolf ears were useful when approaching the unknown. There was nothing for a moment,
then an unsettling scraping registered. It sent a pricking tingle up his spine that radiated across the
skin of his back, making him want to shudder. It was not very far away, but it was magically
concealed. Then another noise – one he was quite sure he didn't need his heightened senses for – a
strangled caw of a disgruntled animal came from a point to the east. Remus looked at Moody.
'Well, there's that.'

Moody nodded, having heard the noise too. 'Anything else?'

'Whatever made that sound…' Remus thought for a moment - the scraping… 'it's got claws, and it's
restrained.'

'And not very happy about it I would guess,' Edgar put in.

'I think you might be right,' Remus said.

'Right,' Moody said leading them in the direction of the caw. Remus was perplexed; he knew a
reasonable amount about magical creatures, but that was not a sound he recognised at all.
Moody stopped suddenly again ten minutes later, but this time Remus knew why. The air had
thickened around them briefly as they walked, and then with one more step, the animalistic
whining became easily heard; they must have just passed through the concealment charm. Peering
through the branches, Remus understood why he had not identified the call - he had never seen a
dragon in real life.

Crouching and tethered to one of the wider trunks in a small clearing was a scaled, orangey-red
lizard. Not large by dragon standards, only a meter and a half at the shoulders. Its head – which was
framed by a mane of sinister-looking gold spikes – looked too large for its body, an adolescent
Remus deduced. Still, it was a sodding dragon. Moody and Edgar had looks of surprise on their
faces as they turned to Remus.

'What are Death Eaters doing with a dragon?' Edgar asked in an awed voice.

'Buggered if I know,' Moody muttered.

Remus wasn't really listening as the other two began to expound on theories for Voldemort
supporters to be travelling with a dragon across the English countryside; he was too busy taking in
the confusing scene before him. The young dragon was at one edge of the gap in the trees, tied
securely around its neck with multiple tethers, and heavy leather straps ran around its body to bind
its wings. On the other side of the open space – no doubt outside firebreath range – was a
ramshackle shelter made from canvas that was pegged to the ground and held up by three tall
posts, with the forth corner of the fabric fastened to the closest branch of a fledgling oak. Next to
this meagre cover was a stack of crates piled four across and three high that walled the tent off
from what looked like a rubbish heap; feathers and empty bottles littered the ground, along with
broken bits of wood that looked like they came from smashed crates, strips of ripped leather, and
other scraps of general refuse that could be expected at a campsite.

Remus scanned the area again. There was a large cauldron beneath the hasty cover, and now that
he looked closely Remus could see flames at its base, hidden from first glance by a strategic bank
of soil that circled it. He focused on the dark interior created by the canvas, peering at the two
bundled shapes there, bundled human shapes.

Both Moody and Edgar must have seen the residents of the campsite too, because Edgar said, 'We
should come in from the other side, between the shelter and the supply crates. We'll be able to stun
them before they even know we're there.'

Moody grunted, 'Good thinking Bones, let's go.'

They skirted around the edge of the clearing – the long way, so as not to get in the reach of the
grouchy dragon and a sudden fiery death – and crept into the gap between the wall created by the
wooden boxes and the rough fabric. Edgar bent down and tried to lift the corner of the canvas in
order to stun the Death Eaters from behind, but it wouldn't budge, magically sealed to the earthy
forest floor. They took a few more steps up the enclosed space and it was only then that Remus
realised he'd made a bad assumption. The scratching sound was not coming from the dragon
tethered across the clearing, but from the crates that he had assumed contained supplies, or possibly
stolen goods.

Remus ran his eyes over the crates nervously. They all seemed to be about the same size, just
standard square wooden shipping boxes almost a meter high, though there was one that was painted
red; it was stacked along with the rest, but obviously contained something important, though not,
perhaps, the source of the noise. Moody was looking at crates too, and he met Remus's eyes with a
confused expression, but didn't say anything as there were two drowsy Death Eaters not five feet
away, only separated from them by a thin fabric barrier.
Edgar, who had led the way into the gap did not seem to have noticed the noise. He glanced
quickly back at Moody when he reached the edge of the shelter wall, looking for the order to act.
Moody gave a sharp nod and Edgar sent a silent stunner into the Death Eaters sleeping quarters. At
that same moment, however, the teenage dragon decided it would like to draw attention to itself
once more, and let out a shriek that echoed around the open space. Edgar's stunner when awry as he
jumped in fright, hastily backing out of view of the Death Eaters who would no doubt be awake
now.

Remus whispered 'Muffliato' in the hope of keeping their presence here a secret; they retreated a
little as they heard the Death Eaters grumbling about the noisy dragon, but seemingly unaware of
the stunner that had shot past them. The Order members were still, and waiting for the moment to
strike. The scratching coming from the boxes was disturbing Remus as they stood in silence; he
hated the idea that there was an animal trapped and frightened inside the dark wooden prison. He
nudged Moody with his elbow and looked pointedly at the nearest crate.

Moody nodded and said in a barely discernible voice, 'Check it, might be dangerous.'

Remus vanished the iron nails that held the top of the crate down and lifted the lid a fraction. His
breath caught in his throat. Inside were two large cracked eggshells, and amongst the fractured
pieces sat a pair of dragon hatchlings. Edgar's face paled as he followed Remus's gesture to look
into the crate, and Moody's wiry eyebrows shot up. 'Merlin' he muttered.

Then a voice rumbled out clearly from behind the shelter wall, 'Is it nearly eleven? Wilkes and
Vistrim will be back soon - hope they got something decent, I'm sick of porridge.'

Remus met Moody's dark eyes for a moment; there were four death eaters on this camping trip, not
three.

'I think there's some of those biscuits left, go have a look,' said a second voice, an impatient-
sounding man.

All three Order members spun to face the tent as the sound of one of the Death Eaters moving
underneath the scanty cover reached them. They began to back quickly away, wands trained on the
place where the biscuit-hunting Death Eater would appear as he came out of the shelter.

As they retreated there was a vicious snarl from the restrained dragon, followed by a torrent of
flame that lit the clearing brightly for a second. All three of the sneakers started in fright, and
Remus saw Edgar's tweed elbow collide with the red painted crate as he backed away, eyes focused
forward, ready for the Death Eater's appearance.

The red box jolted slightly at the contact, then – without warning – the air was rent by a loud and
violent explosion. The tent, the trees, and even the ground, vibrated with the force of the blast.
Remus threw his arms up over his face as splintered wood from the crates flew in every direction;
something heavy crashed into Remus's right arm knocking his wand from his grip as he stumbled
at the impact. The dragon across the clearing was howling, and there were agonised cries coming
from all sides that tore at Remus when he realised the pair of baby dragons were not the only of the
creatures kept in the now-destroyed crates.

Remus could barely see through the haze of flying dirt, smoke, and wooden shrapnel as he ducked
to the ground. Registering a grunt of pain from his left, he squinted and saw Moody crawling
towards him awkwardly, head held at an unnatural angle. Remus's hands were skittering across the
dirt trying to find his wand amongst the wreckage, trying to focus among the hideous pained calls
of the animals around him, and his heart was pounding in his ears. What the hell had happened?
'Lupin,' Moody said unsteadily, 'get to Bones – we have to get out of here.'

Remus looked at Moody again and his stomach churned. There was foot-long deadly sharp splinter
skewering his eye, and blood pouring freely from the socket. 'Moody,' Remus croaked in shock.

'Get to Bones,' Moody said again, voice still shaky, 'I'll send for the boys.'

Remus shuffled on hands and knees through the disaster, wondering where the Death Eaters were
and if they were hurt. Hopefully, he thought. The dust was so thick he was hidden well enough as
he crawled along; his left foot was tingling oddly but he ignored it. Averting his eyes as best he
could from the mangled, flailing bodies of dragon hatchlings, and trying not to hear the agonised
mewling they were making, he scuttled quickly over the smashed remains of the crate pile. What
the hell had been in that painted box? Dynamite? Was it there for security? To destroy the
evidence of illegal dragon breeding?

Remus finally reached the place where Edgar lay, covered in broken chunks of timber. He was
lying very still, unnervingly so, but he groaned when Remus shifted a large partial crate from his
lower body. If Remus thought Moody's facial injury, or mutilated dragon young were bad, Edgar's
condition was a hundred times worse.

His trouser leg had been torn away and there was a huge, gaping trench in his flesh running from
thigh to abdomen. It was so deep Remus could see the thin yellowish layer of fat that coated the
muscle. The werewolf retched slightly at the sight, then with shaking hands he felt for a pulse at
the man's neck - he was sure he'd heard Edgar groan. A light, unsteady fluttering beneath the skin
of Edgar's throat met his touch, but Remus couldn't be sure if it really was from Edgar or his own
trembling fingers.

Then there was a blunt, hard object pressing in the side of Remus's own neck and a threatening
voice said 'He's not long for this world, and neither are you, scum.'

The frightened shaking within Remus turned in an instant to thudding fury. A snarl shook his chest
as the animal he kept locked deep inside made itself known. He was wandless, but not defenceless.
Remus kept his crouch low and spun on his heels, his arm shooting out to snag the Death Eater
behind the knees and send him crashing to the ground.

A sudden flash of red cut through the air above him, and a voice he knew in an instant shouted,
'Moony!' Sirius and Frank had arrived.

The Death Eater he had knocked horizontal was struggling hard against the werewolf's unbreakable
grip; Remus clambered over the man's body to keep him pinned and force the wand to point away
from him. It snapped when its owner's hand was wrenched sharply into the earth. Remus drew back
his right fist and smashed it with all the force he possessed, into the Death Eater's nose, driving
upwards and feeling the impact shudder up his arm. The Death Eater's eyes rolled back and blood
spurted from his face beneath Remus's fingers as his body went limp.

'It's the Order, summon the others!' shouted an unfamiliar voice.

Remus looked up to see two more cloaked men closing in on him quickly, wands drawn. He
staggered to his feet, wiping his bloody hand on his jeans; his left foot was numb, and he stumbled,
and then someone was propping him up with a strong arm around his shoulders. 'Moony, we've got
it,' said Sirius in his ear, 'go back and help Moody.' Sirius spun him around, pushing him back in
the direction he had left the old Auror, and Remus caught his expression – a grim set to his mouth,
brows contracted, but grey eyes dancing with excitement. It was this that made Remus do as he was
told; this was the look of Sirius in control, and wandless or not Remus knew he would be safe with
his friend guarding him and the injured Moody.

Remus fell to his knees to move more quickly – his foot still didn't work properly – and Frank
thundered past, saying hastily to Sirius, 'I'll call, Black! Let's give 'em a go!'

Crawling as fast as he could, iron nails and jagged shards of wood jabbing into his palms and
kneecaps as he went, Remus's mind was whirring - chickens and brandy … baby dragon food …
the awful noises, it was all making sense, except … cats? … dragons could eat cats, but it wasn't a
preferred choice of nourishment … and why would Death Eaters have dragons in the first place?

The grizzled Auror was slumped against a tree trunk when Remus reached him, further back from
the explosion site than he had been before. Remus's brain lost its moment of clarity at the sight:
Moody's peg leg was missing, and he still had the unfortunately large splinter of crate protruding
from the place his eye should have been, and there was sticky, dark blood covering most of his
face. He was smiling widely, though, and Remus, fuzzy with shock, fear and that frightening
wolfish rage, almost laughed at the incongruent image – one should not be smiling when one's
head is a giant shish-kabob. Moody's good eye was fixed behind Remus, where he was obviously
seeing something that made him very happy.

Remus turned, and knew what it was at once. On the other side of the bomb site, Sirius and Frank
were back to back, their wands flashing, colourful bolts of light ricocheting in every direction. The
reinforcements must have arrived because there were five Death Eaters fighting the pair of Aurors
now, surrounding them. It was impressive to watch, and it made Remus realise how well the two
men knew each other; their movements seemed coordinated, and almost relaxed, both taking a
quarter step to their right every few seconds as they continued to block curses and hexes from the
scrambling, weaving, panicking Death Eaters, so that they were revolving and constantly covered
while presenting a new challenge to Voldemort's supporters with every turn.

The challenge was not needed for long however, because Frank suddenly called, 'Fifty two!' and in
what was obviously an orchestrated move, Sirius dropped to a crouch, spinning as he did so, with
his wand slicing the air and sending a barrage of stunners in the direction opposite of that he had
been facing. Frank had turned too, performing the same sweeping cut with his wand in the empty
space created by Sirius's hasty ducking. As one, the five Death Eaters collapsed backwards onto
the dirt with a grim thud of finality.

Moody chuckled beside Remus, who raised his eyebrows at him. 'It's nice to know they pay
attention,' the old Auror said by way of explanation.

Sirius was standing again and pounding Frank on the back when Remus looked over at them again,
and he couldn't help but join Moody in amusement when he heard his friend say with a bark of
laughter, 'Shit mate, could you have waited any longer?'

Frank shook his head, but he was smiling, 'Black, it's only sporting to let them think they stand a
chance.'

A roar form the adolescent, still-chained dragon interrupted the pair, and they seemed to realise
this was not the time for congratulating each other. They hurried back down the gap, Frank
stopping next to Edgar, and Sirius coming to Remus and Moody. He squatted down in front of
Remus, face still lit with the slightly manic grin of success in battle, commenting, 'Nice punch."

'Thanks,' Remus said with a huff, 'I lost my wand, it's in there somewhere.' He tilted his head
towards the disaster zone.

'I figured, you don't normally resort to the wolfman unless you have no other choice.' Sirius said
with a nod, 'How's your ankle?'

'Fine?' Remus looked down at it in confusion; his left foot was twisted on an odd angle, and as he
saw this a hot throbbing pain shot up his leg, like his brain had only just realised it was hurt at all.
'Fuck,' he hissed, 'maybe not fine.'

'That's what I thought,' Sirius said grimly. He held out his wand, 'Here, bind it up, you're much
better at that than me, I'll probably make it worse.'

Remus took the wand and said, 'Ferula,' with a grunt of pain as the bandages appeared, pulling his
ankle into alignment with a grinding clunk as they tightened around it.

Sirius looked over at Moody. 'How're you doing, old man?'

'Not bad Black,' he muttered, 'though this is a bit of a hassle.' He pointed to the chunk of wood
extending from his face.

'Mungo's then?' Sirius asked, torn between disgust at the sight, and humour at Moody's blasé
attitude.

'We'll have to take Edgar, he's really bad,' Remus said.

'He's dead,' said Frank's low voice. All four men were silent for a moment; Remus, Sirius and
Moody all knew that Bones was supposed to have died months ago but that wasn't really much
comfort when faced with the reality. 'So is the one you punched,' Frank continued, unease at the
loss of a comrade still very obvious in his voice, 'I can't tell who it is though, that must have been
some hit.'

He looked at Remus who felt his stomach twist uncomfortably; he had killed someone with his
bare hands, struck them so hard they were unrecognisable. Even if it was a Death Eater, it felt so
much more like murder than using a wand. Frank was still talking as guilt for behaving like an
animal bubbled inside Remus. 'We need to get the Regulation and Control chaps down here,' he
said, and for a horrible moment Remus thought Frank meant for him; to arrest the werewolf who
had murdered a human. But then he added, 'What the hell were they doing with dragons?' and
Remus relaxed slightly.

'I don't know,' Sirius said pensively to Frank, 'they're worth a bit - do you think they were selling?'

'Yeah, maybe.'

Suddenly Moody grunted, 'Why are we sitting around talking? Black, Longbottom, take those
Death Eaters in – and the dead one - lock them up downstairs but don't tell anyone they're there,
and don't do the forms either, they can wait till tomorrow. While you're there, tell the Regulation
lot to get out here and clean up this mess. I'm going to St Mungo's to get this sorted out,' he waved
in the direction of his face as though it was a scratch and not a near-lobotomy. 'Lupin, you can
come along with me and bring Edgar. I already sent a patronus to Dumbledore, he'll meet us there.'

The three young men looked at each other; they all clearly had the same thought running through
their heads. How on earth was Moody able to think so rationally with a huge bit of wood sticking
out of his face?

'Okay, Moody,' Remus said, 'I just need to get my wand.' Moody grunted and leaned back against
the tree trunk once more. 'Accio wand' Remus said, waving Sirius's in the direction of the
wreckage. There was a slight shifting in the pile and then narrow splinters of wood came soaring
towards them. Remus felt his heart sink as he recognised the handle of his precious wand amongst
these shards.

It had been shattered. His miraculous wand - the tool that he'd never thought he would allowed to
own, let alone be permitted to learn to use properly - was in five separate pieces in his lap.
 Mr Ogden's Housekeeper

16th October

Hermione was curled at one end of the sofa, her eyes fixed on the wall clock – which was not on
the wall but resting on the book shelf by the door – at two in the morning. She had been sitting this
way since midnight, and she had begun to feel a little ill with worry a just after one.

Earlier that day Hermione had been perched at the kitchen bench trying to pen a letter to Frederica,
to ask for her assistance with the problem of Hermione living in 1981. A task that Hermione found
very difficult, because really, how did you say "Please will you risk your family's name just so I
may stay here, where I'm not supposed to be, because I have a crush on someone and I'd quite like
to see if it will work out" in a way that didn't sound petty and ridiculous?

Hermione had been lost in contemplation of this problem when there had been a tapping from the
old recessed coal range cooker in the corner of the room – Sirius only ever used it as shelving, and
both times she had cooked on it she understood why; it made the whole flat smell like a factory. A
turn of the century factory, filled with grubby urchin children and huge dangerous machinery for
making canons, or carriages, or possibly lampposts; something that required steam powered
equipment anyway, the type of equipment that was just waiting to crush said grubby urchins if
they became too curious – but the tapping had been quite insistent. So she braved the ghosts of
squished cockney children and opened one of the cast iron doors, only to see a pair of irritable
yellow eyes, before receiving a face full of coal dust when Sirius's unapologetic owl had flapped
his wings in annoyance.

Though she was covered in black soot she'd been quite pleased to discover how Zoff was able to
deliver the post, as the only windows were the little one in the kitchen, two sash windows in the
sitting room that looked out over the shop fronts below, and a weird sliding one with an aluminium
frame in the bedroom that must have been added recently, because muggles didn't use aluminium in
the 1910's when the little row of shops had been built. All of these were closed against the mid
October chill – and Voldemort's killy subjects – and Sirius didn't have fireplace either, just a
radiator in the short hall between the sitting and bedrooms that she stubbed her toe on every time
she passed it. But the coal range must have had an internal chimney, how very convenient.

Zoff had not come by just to say hello and puff coal dust at her. There had been a scroll attached to
his leg, which Hermione had removed, while hastily telling the impatient bird that there would be
no reply.

She looked at the missive lying on the arm of the couch beside her for what must have been the
fiftieth time since its sooty arrival –

Dearest Housekeeper,

My return to the land of pastry and incense will be delayed as I am spending the evening
completing the task I began in the weekend with Short-top. This time your dad and a grumpy pirate
are joining us too. Sorry for the short notice, but as we know, the pirate can't be argued with.

Yours Truly,
Mr Ogden

P.S. Leave the cooker door open or Zoff will flap coal dust in your face to teach you a lesson.

The bloody bird really was a menace she thought, but she had been glad to receive the letter. Sirius
would be happy to be doing something for the Order, and after all it was only a couple of Death
Eaters and some brandy sodden cats – or so she'd thought – she looked at the clock again, Sirius
had not said how long he would be, she kept reminding herself of that. It might be perfectly normal
for Order missions to go from five in the evening until the wee hours. They probably had a lot to
sort out afterward; paperwork to fill in, cats to sober up, that sort of thing. Or maybe Remus and
Sirius were just having a drink to celebrate their success. Or maybe Moody was giving them a
marathon-like debriefing, or maybe something had gone wrong.

Finally at half past two she heard someone ascending the stairs from the street, she didn't move
though – Staple-face had already tricked her once, pounding up the staircase at quarter past twelve
with a friend, and then leaving again ten minutes later, so it could just be him again – Thankfully
following the footsteps there was a quiet knock on the door and Hermione hastened to answer it.

'Jelly-legs jinxed James just jigs jerkily,' she said through the wood.

There was a snort of amusement from Sirius on the other side before he replied, 'Dumbledore's
devilish dirty dancing distracts dudes.'

Hermione giggled as she opened the door, but his gloomy expression made her happiness and relief
fade, 'Sirius?' she asked uncertainly 'What happened?'

'The Death Eaters were breeding dragons.' he blurted out bitterly as he entered the flat, collapsing
onto the sofa and hunching forward, head in his hands, 'there was an explosion - erumpent horn,
Bones was killed, Moony broke his ankle and his wand, Moody lost his eye - a bit of wood got him
in the face from the blast, merlin it was so gross.'

'Oh my god!' Hermione exclaimed sitting beside him, unable to process all the insane information
'Dragons? What? Is Remus alright? And Moody?'

'Yeah they're fine, well Moody is shitty about his eye, and having to be in hospital but he'll live,
and they fixed Moony up no problem, me and Frank had to come in and take out the Death Eaters,
we we're so unprepared,' he said still speaking to his knees as she put her arm around his shoulders,
she didn't say anything, it was better to just let him talk, 'it turned out there were six of them, not
three … we totally fucked up the reconnaissance, they were taking turnabout, so we couldn't tell
that there was more of them.' He leaned against her and sighed, 'it was such a disaster.'

'But you caught them, the Death Eaters?' she said trying to remind him of the reason they were
there in the first place. 'Why were they breeding dragons?'

'Merlin only knows why they were breeding, but we took five Death Eaters in and Remus killed
one,' Sirius said exhaling heavy, 'he's having a massive guilt attack about it – as usual.'

'Why?' Hermione asked, Remus was an empathetic man but she didn't think he would worry about
killing Death Eaters. 'They killed one of us. How are Edgar's family coping?

'Not too bad really,' Sirius's voice relaxed slightly, 'his wife is tough, and very realistic – she knew
it was likely something like this could happen, and she has lots of support, she and the boys will be
fine.'

'Still, it's terrible though, at least you paid the Death Eaters back in kind.' Hermione said,
wondering how anyone could possibly be prepared for something like the death of their husband.
'Why is Remus so worried? Surely he knows that it's the only way sometimes.'

'It's just Moony, he feels bad enough when he kills someone with magic, but he just punched the
tosser – nose straight into his brain – instant death … and fucking scary to tell you the truth.' Sirius
said, and there was an uneasy sound in his voice with his last words.

Hermione was a little surprised to hear him so shaken; surely he'd seen enough horror by now …
but then maybe seeing your friend kill someone so violently was something you never got used to.
'Have you ever killed anyone?' she asked quietly, it probably wasn't the most suitable question but
she'd realised she didn't know, and the way Sirius had said "when Remus kills someone" like it was
a regular occurrence, and it made her wonder if it was.

'Yes' he said in a business like tone that unsettled her, 'one, officially … but really five. The other
four were during order missions.'

'Oh,' she said softly, wishing she hadn't asked, 'I didn't realise the Order used the killing curse that
often.'

'We don't.' he shook his head, 'it's normally more of an accident, something falling on them or
rebounding curses …' he shrugged a little beside her and said, 'The only time I meant to kill was at
the end of last year – I'd been trailing a Death Eater for two weeks – all over the country – and he
turned on me; it was my first assignment after I qualified. Somehow he figured out that I was an
Auror and he got me with a severing charm,' Sirius shifted away from her slightly and pushed his
left sleeve up to show the thick white line of scar tissue that ran around his bicep, 'nearly lost my
arm. I … um, panicked and killed him.' he ran his finger over the mark and said with a little snort,
'Moody was furious, got himself kicked out of St Mungo's for shouting that he'd take my arm
himself next time I did something so stupid.' The small amount of humour in Sirius voice faded as
he added, 'He told me I should go and join the Death Eaters if I was going to behave like one. It
was awful.'

He rested against her side again, leaning back onto the sofa cushions, and she asked 'Do you think
that's why he's so hard on you?'

'Nah, he's like that to everyone.' Sirius replied, he seemed perfectly happy to forget all about the
dragons and Death Eaters, he sounded almost normal again. He was often like that she thought,
once the problem came tumbling out of his mouth it was like it didn't matter anymore. It was
probably just his way of coping she reasoned.

'Really?' she asked sceptically, wanting to keep him on the relatively light hearted topic of his
superior's hatred of him.

He snorted quietly, 'Well no, but it used to me and Prongs, because at the end of our first year we
beat him and Robards in the pair duelling assessment, that's how they test you; you have to fight
your boss, it was so fun.' He sighed reminiscently, 'But yeah, ever since then he's been a nasty
bastard to us, and when Prongs went into hiding I got his share of grouchy old codger too.' Sirius
said, and then added in an odd tone 'But he's been kind of … nice lately. Its freaking me out a
little.'

'What do you mean nice?'

'Well … I know you and I don't really talk about this … and if you still don't want to that's okay,'
He looked at her sideways, almost nervously, 'but he told me last week he had an idea to fix the
spy problem.'
'What?' Hermione asked, quite taken aback the gruff man would want to help at all, 'like fix so the
Ministry won't find out what we've been up too, so that you won't all get in trouble or … fix as in
… fix like I could stay?'

'I'm not sure, but I think … stay.' Sirius said and he smiled again, 'He likes you, when we sort this
out you'll have to be careful, he's going to be trying to recruit you every day.'

'I could handle that,' Hermione said with a little grin, 'if that's the worst of it, I'd happily put up
with unwanted job offers.' Sirius was quiet as he rested his head against hers as they sat side by
side, 'So Remus has no wand?' She asked.

'Yeah, he's gutted.' Sirius said, 'I told him he can have the one I bought when I thought I'd lost mine
at Forte de Sang, or that I'd by him a new one – he's used up all his gold on the Wolfsbane – but he
hates taking money so he's going to come and pick up the spare in the morning before I go to work.
Maybe it will be better for him.' his shoulder twitched as he added, 'I didn't like it much.'

'You didn't really give it a chance' Hermione said, shifting to wrap her arm across his stomach and
lay her head against his chest, 'you only used it for a few hours.'

'I know but mine is so much better.' He said sounding quite content as she hugged him, Hermione
thought she knew why, it was very pleasant, similar to how they held hands when they were
worried. But this was infinitely safer feeling, it was a bit easier to forget dangerous missions and
death, not to mention what was coming in two weeks, because stay or go, win or lose, right now
there was just the slow thud of his heart in her ear and his warm hand resting on the small of her
back. She wondered if it was quite as reassuring for him, he probably just had a mouthful of her
curly hair and a sharp pain in the side of his thigh where her curled up knee was digging into to
him. But he didn't complain.

'Sirius?' She asked as this thought struck her, her tired brain forgetting to think before she talked.

'Hmm?'

'Is my hair in your mouth?'

There was a rumble under her ear as he chuckled, 'Yes' he said, 'bloody mop.'

'Sorry' she said grinning into is t-shirt, very glad he was more cheerful again, she wanted to talk to
him about her helping with the plan for her to stay, time was running out and they hadn't had a
proper conversation in nearly a week, this seemed as good a time as any. She took a breath and said
'So I was thinking about asking Frederica to help with my identity.'

He was quiet for a moment, and Hermione worried for just a second that he would be offended that
she had taken matters into her own hands, but then she felt foolish for thinking he would mind
because he said, 'Way ahead of you, we wrote to her two weeks ago.' Then his chest shook again as
he sniggered slightly, 'Did you know she and Remus write to each other all the time, and floo? I
think they're having an affair.'

Hermione snorted, 'I didn't … an affair … really?'

'No not really,' he said laughing softly 'but it's fun to tease him.'

'You're so mean to each other, I don't think I'll ever really understand men's heads.'

'Well we don't, so why should you? He shrugged.

'True,' she said, 'so what did she say? And what did you say? I've been trying to write her a letter all
day but it's really hard to find a polite version of "I like a boy, and would like to live here with him.
Could you please jeopardise your family's reputation for me?".'

'Tell me about it' he agreed fervently, 'at least you could say that you want to stay – when I first
started mine you'd only said if we could find a way … and well … I was worried Frederica would
think I was trying to kidnap you or something, thankfully Moony wrote ours. He just said that you
wanted to stay here in Brittan because you were worried you wouldn't be returning to the home you
left and had made good friends here, and would she help us find a way to make that possible. All
written like you were her daughter, no creepy hostage suggestions, it was brilliant.'

'Oh' Hermione huffed, it was so obvious now, 'well that makes me feel like an idiot for agonising
over it all day long. Has she replied?'

'Yeah she flooed Remus on moon day to say good luck,' he chuckled again, 'see why I think they're
having an affair? She said she would look into it, so fingers crossed. Moony has some other idea
too but he hasn't told me what it is yet. Have you … er … been thinking about it a lot?'

'Yes … I know it was sort of your thing, I didn't want you to think I didn't trust you to figure it out.
Because I do.' she said very relieved that he liked the idea of help and a little irritated that she
hadn't said anything sooner, because surely they could have found a solution by now with all of
them working together.

'That's very generous of you,' he said ironically, 'all my ideas have been scraped by Moony, I
haven't had anything new for a week now.'

'Oh, well you've been busy.' She reassured him.

'Yes but,' he exhaled in frustration 'anyway, go on … what has the amazing brain of Hermione
Granger come up with?'

'Nothing amazing.' She said with a self-depreciating shake of her head against his chest, 'Asking
Frederica and telling the truth.'

'Telling the truth?' He sounded uneasy.

'I know it would be a huge risk,' she sighed heavily, 'I don't know that it would even work … but
… you know … I will have defeated Voldemort, the Ministry will owe me something.'

'I guess …' he said slowly, 'would you tell them everything … timeturner … muggles, the lot?'

'I don't know, that's why I'm scared to do it – information is dangerous – if they know a timeturner
like mine can be built then who knows what would happen.'

'Hmm that's true …' he said his arm tightening around her briefly, 'so Frederica to the rescue then?'

'I suppose so.' She closed her eyes; feeling drained all of a sudden. It was three in the morning after
all. Sirius didn't seem to want to move, his hand at her back was warm, his chest rose and fell
steadily, she could quite happily stay there forever she thought sleepily.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they had been silent for when his muted voice said, 'There's
always Hawaii.'

'Run away?' she asked softly.

'Yup.'

'How romantic.' She murmured.

'Not really,' he said quietly, 'I just like the beach, but you're welcome to come along.'

The dawn light made Sirius's sitting room look oddly unfamiliar when Hermione woke a few hours
later; it cast unexpected shadows across the ceiling and caused the still glowing standing lamp
above her to look as though it had lost some of its brightness. The morning air was quite chilly, but
she was pinned between the back of the sofa and Sirius – who, as she had found out when pulling
his feinted body through apparition, weighed far more than his frame suggested – so the cold didn't
bother her too much. Her legs were tangled with his and his face was smooshed into the crook of
her neck, it was quite claustrophobic, but not unpleasant. He wasn't even snoring which was very
unusual.

'Are you awake?' She asked in a small voice, assuming this could be the only reason for the undue
quiet.

'No' he mumbled, 'and neither are you.'

'I think I am.' She insisted in an undertone because his ear was right next to her lips, whenever she
breathed in strands of his unkempt hair would dance up to tickle her nose.

'No,' Sirius whispered in disagreement with a tiny shake of his head, 'shush, we're asleep.'

She smiled at the certainty in his sleepy voice and said, 'My arm is asleep.'

'Lucky arm.' He huffed, burrowing his face deeper into her shoulder, 'You should join it.'

'Are you actually comfortable?' she asked, grinning at the silliness of the conversation.

'I'm asleep,' He sighed, 'I wouldn't know.'

'You have very busy hands for a sleeping man.' She pointed out quietly. It was true, he did, or hand
really, as one was stuck beneath her, digging into her shoulder. But the other was enjoying its
freedom, drifting up her thigh to her ribs and back again.

'Mmm,' he agreed, 'can't be helped I guess,' then he pushed himself up, pulled his face from her
shoulder, and opened his eyes. 'It seems I am awake after all,' he said, blinking curiously.

They were almost nose to nose and his gaze darted briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes
again. The corner of his mouth curled up and she knew what was going to happen before it did, but
it still didn't really prepare her. The kiss was only a tentative inquiry for the first few moments, but
when his tongue swept across her bottom lip she ran her free hand up his back and returned the
pressure. It was obviously the answer he'd been looking for because all his sleepy hesitance
vanished on the spot.

The angle was awkward, both of them lying on their sides – with only one arm each – but they
made do. Sirius's palm cupping her jaw, fingers reaching into her hair and pulling her closer,
murmuring in approval when she pressed herself to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Her heart
sped up almost instantly, she forgot about her numb arm as his thumb stroked the side of her neck,
his lips becoming more sure and insistent with every passing second. It was consuming and
wonderful, she lost track of everything, there was just Sirius and the beautiful lazy heat kindling
inside her. His hand moved back to her hip and resumed its trailing path northward as his mouth
continued its magic, forcing a tiny noise of enjoyment from her. It seemed as though Sirius had
been waiting for the sound – like a signal – because with one twisting tug from his trapped arm she
found herself flat on her back beneath him, he grinned down briefly at her slight gasp of surprise
before descending on her once again, his mouth demanding and hands searching.

She was surrounded by him, not able to think past sensation; the hair that tickled her face as he
moved his lips to her throat, the way her pulse felt uneven when his teeth grazed her skin, the
building warmth spreading through her limbs making her fingers twitch against the cotton of his t-
shirt as kissed her again, more commandingly than ever. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, his
skin was very warm, almost feverish to the touch. He jerked a little at the contact and hissed
against her lips, 'Shit your hands are cold.'

She retracted them quickly ,'Sorry.'

'I'll cope,' he said, giving her side a little squeeze he asked, 'is mine?' But then his tongue was
flicking at her neck again, and her answer of 'No,' was more of a moan. This seemed to please him
because his hungry mouth was back on hers, draining her of the ability to process anything else as
his hand slid higher, and the lovely swirling warmth inside her moved more quickly.

Her fingers had either warmed up, or he was too distracted to notice as they passed over the heated
skin of his back, his t-shirt hitching when she reached his shoulder blades, he was breathing
heavily as he pulled away to yank it off over his head, balancing on one hand to do so. He smiled
widely down at her, propped up as he was; his hair was mad from couch sleep and shirt removal,
his lips puffy and eyes hazy, chest rising and falling quickly.

She smiled back, her own breath quite unsteady, drawing him back down with a hand behind his
head to catch his lips enthusiastically, her fingers running across his bare shoulders. Then he was
kissing a path down her throat and tugging the neck of her shirt aside, his mouth leaving a hot,
tingling trail across her collarbone causing her to shift restlessly below him. He groaned
appreciatively at the movement and the warmth inside her swirled all the more deliciously, making
her head spin as he found her lips once more. Dimly, after many more minutes – or possibly hours
– of the glorious heat chasing its way through her, an odd knocking registered in her ears, she
could hardly hear it over the rush of dancing blood pounding in her head so she ignored it, but then
a voice said 'Padfoot?' And there was knocking again, 'Padfoot?'

Sirius collapsed against her, burying his face in her shoulder and after an agonised moan of
discontent, he mumbled, 'Bloody wolf.'

Hermione's ears were ringing, she quite agreed. But then she remembered – as though from a
conversation years ago – that Remus had no wand, 'You have to give him the wand Sirius,' she said
hoarsely, her thudding heart making her voice waver slightly.

'Shh,' he said nuzzling at her neck in a very doglike way, 'Maybe he'll go away.'

Remus knocked for a third time, 'Pads? You know I can hear you right?'

Sirius gave a grudging chuckle of defeat, and with one last kiss he reluctantly pushed himself off
her, staggering as he tried to stand. She wondered vaguely if his legs were as dead as hers from
sleeping in jeans on the awkward confines of the sofa. Sirius regained his balance however, and
bent to seize his wand from where it was lying on the floor beside the couch, before heading to the
door, 'That you Moony?' he asked still breathing a little unsteadily, Hermione was smiling foolishly
to herself as she watched him – shirtless and obviously dazed – rest his forehead against the door in
an effort to focus.
'Yes you daft git. Why do you want me to go away?'

'I was busy.' Sirius grumbled through the door.

'Hmm … right,' Remus said, 'are you going to ask me a question?'

'My brain is broken.' Sirius whined, still leaning on the door.

'That's not a question Pads, that's fact.'

'Fine,' Sirius groaned unhappily, 'how did I break my tailbone in sixth year?'

Remus snickered, 'Being a nosy git and climbing buildings to spy on me studying with Mary.'

'Yeah but you weren't studying were you?' Sirius said, and Hermione could see him grinning now.

'For the most part.' Remus said 'Okay, you and Prongs got a detention in fifth year for breaking
into the library after hours. Why did you break in in the first place?'

'Moony, that's so embarrassing.' Sirius complained, 'Don't remind me, it's like our darkest moment.'

'Why?' Remus insisted, he seemed to find it very amusing.

'Because we needed a copy of the transcript from the Warlocks Convention to do our History of
Magic essay and couldn't bear the thought of people knowing that we were doing homework so we
didn't want to check it out.' Sirius said very quickly in one breath, as though it caused him a lot of
pain.

Hermione laughed, 'You got a detention for trying to do your homework?' she asked incredulously.

'Shut up,' he shot over at her smiling ruefully, 'the records say it was for breaking and entering, a
perfectly respectable crime.' Then he raised an eyebrow looking meaningfully at her chest and said,
'I'm about to open the door – are you sure you want your dad to see you like that?' Hermione
looked down to see much more exposed flesh than she was expecting, she hadn't even noticed that
he'd managed to undo most of the buttons on her shirt. Sirius was sniggering to himself while she
fumbled to do them up quickly.

She heard the door creak on its hinges slightly as she tried to sort out her annoyingly tiny buttons,
there were so many … and not enough holes, and then Remus's voice said, 'Christ Pads, it's
freezing, put a shirt on.'

'Sorry Moony, felt warm enough to me.'

Hermione looked up from her frustrating fastenings to see Remus looking pointedly away from her,
and restraining a smile as he said in a loaded voice, 'Good morning Hermione.'

She blushed, 'Good morning Remus, it's okay, you can look now.'

He grinned and shook his head, he seemed embarrassed too. 'Sorry,' he said quietly, coming to sit
in the armchair. Hermione dug Sirius's t-shirt from between the sofa cushions and flung it at him.
He was still smiling smugly as he pulled it back on.

'That's okay,' Hermione said, 'I hear you had a pretty awful night.'

'Yeah, total rubbish. Disaster really,' he said dejectedly, 'if Moody hadn't wanted to go now … I
mean in two weeks all this shit won't even matter anymore.'
'I know, Sirius said you were hurt?' She asked as Sirius left the room – presumably to get the
replacement wand.

'Yeah, just a broken ankle though,' he twitched his left foot from side to side, 'healers fixed me up
in no time.'

'That's good,' she thought about how Sirius had said last night that Remus was feeling guilty, but
her mind still wasn't in tip top shape for complicated emotions, so she decided distraction was the
best option for now, 'So we'll have to do some fyre practice one night this week,' she said with a
smile, 'good way to wear in your new wand. '

'I thought of that,' he nodded, 'I probably should buy a new one … using a second hand one isn't
the best. '

'That's not always true,' Hermione said kindly, knowing that he would not want to admit he couldn't
afford a brand new one, 'Ron used his brother's wand until he broke it …I'll have to tell you that
story some time … and it worked just fine for him, and I think Frank's son inherited his wand and
used it for most of our time at school. So this one might be okay.'

Remus gave her a knowing look and a slight smile, 'I'm sure it will be fine,' he said.

Sirius returned holding a long flat box 'Here you go Moony,' he said as he passed it to him and
flopped down onto the sofa next to Hermione, jostling her slightly and still grinning like an
insufferable twat.

'Thanks Pads,' Remus said gratefully, 'I feel so weird without one,' he lifted the lid and took out the
wand, a look of relief passed over his face as he gripped it, he twitched it in his fingers and the
standing lamp flicked off. Then he smirked and pointed it at Hermione, he waved the wand again
and she felt her shirt rearrange itself, she looked down to see the buttons all in the right holes.
Hermione blushed again as Sirius laughed, and Remus said apologetically, 'Sorry, but it was killing
me,' before joining Sirius in laughing at her.

'Shut up,' she muttered, embarrassed that it was so obvious what they'd been up to.

'So what's it made from Padfoot?' Remus asked, looking closely at the wand.

'I can't remember … mistletoe I think, but I know the core is phoenix feather.'

Hermione's bashfulness was forgotten as she looked at the wand in Remus's hand more closely,
now that she paid attention … it looked familiar but … no … surely not, 'Mistletoe?' She asked
Sirius, 'are you sure?'

'Not at all,' he shrugged, 'I didn't listen to Ollivander, I wanted my wand back, it was definitely
something Christmassy though,' he looked thoughtful, 'maybe … holly?'

Hermione's heart began to race, not like it was ten minutes ago, she was afraid now … could it be?

'It looks more like holly,' Remus said, holding the wand up to his eyes, 'mistletoe has a finer grain
than this, yeah … I think you're right, I'm pretty sure it's holly.' He said decisively.

Hermione was horrified, what did this mean? Gazing at the holly and phoenix wand in Remus's
hand she berated herself, how had she not noticed straight away? She had seen Harry's wand only
five months before, it had saved her life on more than one occasion, it had sat beside hers on the
desks at Hogwarts for six years, she had held it in her hand during duelling practice for the DA, the
few times she had managed to disarm her friend. She should have recognised it immediately.
Admittedly Sirius had only used it for about five hours in her presence, and she had been exhausted
from worry over his capture, but still, it was Harry's wand.

Remus swept the wand through the air again and the crate of records that they used as a table
jiggled as the albums re-organised themselves, 'Not bad,' Remus said happily, 'thanks Padfoot, it
feels pretty good, don't know what your problem with it was.'
 Mad-Eye and Short-Top

16 th October

When Sirius entered Auror Headquarters on Friday morning, he was shivering slightly. He could
blame it on the chilly morning air outside, or feeling shaky from yet another night of very little
sleep – though he'd been quite happy to be awake that morning even with only three hours kip – but
mostly the reason for the shivers sporadically shuddering through him was the cold shower he had
subjected himself to in an effort to regain full control over his brain. It was a desperate measure, but
necessary. With five Death Eaters in the holding cells there was going to be significant amount of
paperwork to attend to today, which would be not the usual "dreadfully dull" but basically
impossible if his mind kept dancing off down a bright and tempting path filled with early morning
couch canoodling, completely free of wandless wolves knocking at the door.

However, he had arrived at his cubicle to find it already occupied; Frank Longbottom sat in Sirius's
swivel chair, spinning idly about with a tired but pleased expression on his face. Sirius began to
wonder if the freezing water had been worth it after all, for surely Frank would not be visiting –
and looking happy – if there was paperwork looming. Frank was the freakish sort of person who
believed that the quicker you got your work done the faster your freedom would be available.
Sirius, a firm follower of the ignore it for as long as possible and then bang something together at
the last minute religion, found Frank's diligence unnatural and a tiny bit threatening.

'Are you here to tell me you've already done the forms?' Sirius asked hopefully as he shucked his
cloak and hung it on the peg beside the entry.

'No, sorry Black, but the good news is Moody's not back from Mungo's yet so we have nothing to
do.'

'Nothing at all?' Sirius asked incredulously 'are you kidding, what about all the mission reports?'

'What mission?' Frank asked with an artfully arranged confused expression on his face.

Sirius frowned at him, 'Longbottom, I'm not top of my game this morning, enough with the riddles.'

'Sorry,' Frank said with a grin, then lowered his voice, 'it was for the Order, it never happened. The
Regulation and Control fellas have been sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore, we're just saying we
happened upon some dragon traders and the Regulation team have taken over. Moody's orders
apparently.'

'Oh … well, good I guess. How're the Boneses doing?' Sirius asked, sitting on his desk since Frank
wasn't making any attempt to get off his chair.

'Pretty well, you know Mildred, she'll be damned if a little thing like the death of her husband is
going to get in the way of the farm; she left to milk the cows at four this morning. That's the cover
up by the way - until everything is sorted, the official story is Edgar was gored by a bull when he
went to round up the cows for milking last night.'

'But I thought you could only milk lady cows?' Sirius said; his tiredness was obviously affecting
his ability to filter the ridiculous things that popped into his head. He had to admit that farm life –
magical or muggle – was something he had absolutely no knowledge of, but he was fairly sure that
all animals were like people in the way that only females were capable of producing milk. But then
again, his experience with the necessary human equipment was limited to situations where
lactation was the farthest thing from his mind. So for all he knew bulls could be milked too.

Frank grinned at him and rolled his eyes. 'Yes Black, you can only milk lady cows, you're such a
Londoner,' he said as though it was an insult,'but if there are bullocks about they can get a bit
grumpy when you try to take all their girls away, so it's a pretty believable story.'

'Oh, right,' Sirius said, 'I suppose I could understand that,' though he really didn't. 'So then, what
are we doing here?' he asked, regretting his valiant and responsible decision to come to work in the
first place.

'Well, I thought you might want to come with me to take the statements from the lot downstairs,'
Frank said. 'That she-devil spat on me when I when down to check on them just now.'

'Yeah, she got me last night,' Sirius agreed with a shudder. He and Frank had been surprised to
discover that one of the five captured Death Eaters was female. They knew of course that
Voldemort was not a sexist employer, but as a general rule the women followers were not involved
in such escapades as camping with illegal dragons. However you could really only apply the term
"female" to Vistrim in the loosest possible way; she was as tall as Sirius and quite as broad in the
shoulder and Sirius truly thought that if it came to hand to hand combat Vistrim could probably
knock him out with one solid hit.

'She's injured,' Frank said. 'I offered her the opportunity to go to St Mungo's under guard but she
said she'd rather die than let the "filthy Mudbloods" touch her.'

'She was all right last night,' Sirius said confusedly. He clearly remembered her being in reasonable
physical condition, shaking at the bars of her cell with decent force before spitting in his face.

'Yeah well, not so much this morning, huge splinter in her side,' Frank gestured to his own ribs
with a wince, 'deep as anything. The strengthening charms they put on those crates made the wood
a tough as steel, that's why the damage was so bad, did you see Edgar before I bound him up? It
was like he'd been sliced open.'

Sirius shook his head, 'Poor bloke.' He hadn't noticed; he'd been distracted by Remus's fist
smashing through a man's face as he'd approached the place where Edgar lay.

'Yeah,' Frank said, rocking in Sirius's chair pensively for a moment; then he took a deep breath and
continued, 'so Vistrim is pretty badly off now, the thing is festering already, but she won't take
treatment. She only let me look at it after I told her my name, I thought yours might be even more
useful.'

'Why should we bother?' Sirius said coldly, 'They got Bones, and there must have been at least
forty hatchlings torn apart in that blast, why should we try to help her?'

'You know what Moody would say,' Frank said quietly.

Sirius did know – it's the death eater's job to kill, not ours – but this wasn't killing, this was going
to extraordinary lengths to keep a disgraceful bigoted troll alive, very different. 'Alright
Longbottom, but only 'cause I don't fancy Moody finding out while still in his post-hospital rage.'

'You mean other than the fact that I'm your superior, right?' Frank replied ironically.

Sirius grinned a little sheepishly. Frank had two years of experience on Sirius, had achieved much
better marks through all the theory exams, and to top it off was generally very well thought of
because he was an extremely affable chap - unlike Sirius who most of the older Aurors only spoke
to if necessary because, as Moody so often said, Sirius was a pain in the arse. Since Frank never
behaved like he was in charge of Sirius, even though he was, it was easy to forget. 'Yes
Longbottom, other than that,' Sirius said with a nod as though it was a given. Frank just laughed at
him.

Just then a purple paper aeroplane came zooming into Sirius's work space - an interdepartmental
memo. Sirius still wasn't quite used to these as they had only just switched from owls six months
ago. This decision had been coming for a while; most Ministry employees were quite sick of
cleaning bird leavings from their desks but had put up with it, but during the previous spring the
post-owl population of Britain had contracted an illness (Moody insisted it was a dastardly scheme
by the Death Eaters to make the wizarding community feel isolated). Fortunately the virus had not
been deadly. Unfortunately all of the sick birds had something of an upset stomach; not a huge deal
when your owl delivered your letter and left again - but in the confines of the underground Ministry
of Magic? Well, the mess was unbelievable.

Sirius snatched the fluttering purple plane from the air. It was from the External Communications
Department, passing along the little owl-delivered scroll that was wedged inside it; Sirius smiled
when he saw James's handwriting –

Dog,

It's roast chicken. You know you can't turn that down. Rat's busy but Wolf's in. Bring his female
counterpart too.

Please?

DTV

(A VERY BORED) Stag.

Sirius chuckled to himself. They always refrained from using their nicknames within the Ministry
considering all letters had to be addressed to the recipient by their real name and were read by the
ladies in the post room; it was too risky that someone would put them together and figure out who
was writing. But it was still odd to be called Dog. James was inviting him to Friday night dinner,
which he always did even though it was a standing arrangement, an arrangement that Sirius had
broken more times than he could count these last five months.

'Who's it from?' Frank asked, resuming his idle spinning in Sirius's chair.

'James,' Sirius said, 'bribing me with Lily's cooking to come to dinner.'

'I'll go if you don't want,' Frank laughed 'that woman sure can cook.'

Sirius nodded, 'She really can.' Lily might be something magic in the kitchen, but Sirius had
something else he'd much rather be doing that evening. Something that didn't involve food at all.
Although, he did often find himself ridiculously hungry afterward ….

'Black?'

Sirius shook his head in an effort to dislodge distracting thoughts. 'What?'

'I said are we going down to see these blighters or not?' Frank said a little impatiently.

'Oh right, sure,' Sirius said, tucking James's note into his pocket.
'Merlin you're a worry lately.' Frank gave him an almost concerned look. 'You get that vacant look
at the idea of dinner now too?'

'Yeah that's right,' Sirius muttered as he hopped off his desk. Frank looked a little disbelieving but
didn't say anything as he led the way out of the cubical and down the aisle towards the lifts. Sirius
hastened to follow him; a lovely argument with some Death Eating scum would occupy his brain
nicely.

Sirius and Frank exited the lifts on level nine and descended the stairs to the courtrooms, it was
very quiet down on ten that morning – there mustn't have been any trials in session. Normally the
corridors were full of guards and waiting criminals, but the law enforcement lot often scheduled
Fridays as a paperwork catch-up so it wasn't really that unusual. Reaching the holding cells at the
far end of the corridor they did find something strange however.

'Where is she?' Frank asked, peering through the bars of the tiny prison as though Vistrim could be
hiding in a corner. The space was a little over ten foot square with only a wooden bench and a
toilet, so it seemed unlikely that she would be able to keep out of view, and the cell was most
definitely empty.

Sirius walked on the next cell, the one that held two of the four men they had brought in last night.
Wilkes and Smyth – who Sirius had recognised immediately the two surviving members of the
Manchester three he and Moody had captured back at the beginning of September – were sitting
peacefully side by side on the bench in their jail. 'Oi, Smyth,' Sirius said brusquely, 'where's your
lady friend gone?'

Smyth turned his head slowly to look at Sirius; there was a look of complete incomprehension on
his face. 'Lady friend? Who do you mean?'

'Vistrim,' Sirius said impatiently. 'How did she get out of here?'

'Vistrim? Who's that?' Wilkes piped up, with the same confused expression; they seemed strangely
content for locked up Death Eaters.

Sirius looked at Frank completely flummoxed, 'What on earth?'

There was an uneven clunking on the stone floor behind them and Sirius spun around to see Moody
coming towards them. The Head Auror drew his wand and shot four quick and silent stunners into
the two cells holding the Death eaters. 'Morning,' he growled. 'So you two finally decided to do
your job did you? I've had Vistrim sent to St Mungo's, she was going to die otherwise – and I've
modified the memories of these four, can't have them knowing we show compassion to their sort.'

'We did try, Moody,' Frank insisted, looking relieved that the woman had not escaped. 'She told me
she would rather die than go to the hospital where they employ muggleborns; we were here to have
another go at convincing her.'

Sirius was not listening to Frank. He had no energy for listening when every single part of him was
focused on not bursting into laughter. Moody had obviously come straight from the hospital, for he
was not dressed in his Ministry robes. He may have found a clean shirt, but he was still wearing the
trousers he had worn on the mission the night before, now in a slightly tattered condition from the
blast, leaving his peg leg clearly visible at the bottom of his torn cuff; his long mangy hair was
much more untidy than usual too. The thing that had Sirius imagining terribly sad and tragic
images to try to keep his expression straight, was that covering Moody's missing eye was a black
eye patch. He couldn't have looked more like a pirate if he tried. Sirius's ploy of concentrating on
blasted apart baby dragons fell to pieces after Frank asked, 'How long do you have to wear that
patch Moody?'

The old Auror replied, 'Only a week, just til the wound is healed - but I don't mind, it's quite scary
looking wouldn't you say? Like one of them muggle pirate chaps,' and he raised his cane like a
sword and growled, 'so if you're not careful I'll make you walk the plank.' Sirius lost control of his
knees and had to lean on Frank as he laughed so hard that tears sprung in his eyes and his sides
ached, he could barely breathe. Frank was chuckling too, but Sirius didn't know if it was because of
Moody or Sirius's overreaction. To top it off, Moody still looked deadly serious, glowering at the
pair of them as he said, 'Come on ye landlubbers, there's a mountain of paperwork in my office to
sort out.'

Sirius was still wheezing and holding his ribs when they arrived back in the Auror department ten
minutes later; Moody had a sense of humour, he couldn't quite believe it. He sobered slightly at the
sight of the stack of forms on the Head Aurors desk, but as Moody and his piratey appearance were
still present it didn't last long. A full two hours later Sirius was sitting at his desk still chortling
intermittently whenever the image of piratesque Moody would pop into his head, when a paper
aeroplane crashed into his ear.

Dog,

Doe has made éclairs and macaroons – and you know how I hate macaroons – you'll need to take
them off our hands.

Honestly I'm so bored, I might go insane.

Stag

'Personal mail in work time, Black?' growled an annoyed voice from behind him. Sirius restrained
his startled flinch and – not turning to face Moody, because he would just start laughing again – he
said, 'I didn't know it was personal when I opened it, did I? What if it was important information
regarding …' he struggled to think of something quickly, how Remus could talk constantly under
pressure was astounding, Sirius always just went blank, 'er … Death Eaters?' he finished lamely.

'It's from the External Communications Department Black, are you pen-pals with Death Eaters
now?'

Sirius sighed in defeat and mumbled, 'I could be, I have cousins, right?'

'Better bloody not be,' Moody said. 'Now, as grand as it is to chat with you, I'm not here on a social
call.' There was a flump and a gust of wind as a heap of parchment fell on Sirius's desk and Moody
said, 'the Regulation and Control team just got back. These,' his cane crashed down on the top of
the pile, 'are the back-dated mission clearance forms to explain what you and Longbottom were
doing in the forest last night. I'd do them myself but I've have something else to do this afternoon,
so you and Longbottom can fill them in instead.' He paused for a moment and nudged Sirius's
shoulder with his walking stick, 'I want you to do the drafts but send them next door for the final
copy. I've pre-signed them and you might notice that Crouch has too – not that he knows it.' Moody
gave a sinister chuckle. 'So there can't be any mistakes, because it was hard enough to distract him
through his morning signing routine to get these ones done amongst all his other forms; and he
seemed a little suspicious so I don't think I could manage it again this week.' There was a much
sharper nudge to Sirius's shoulder and Moody said, 'Why aren't you looking at me, Black?'

Sirius let out a long breath and said, 'Because I'll laugh again, and then you'll whack me.'

Moody grunted, 'Nice that you're thinking ahead. Tell me Black, can you swim?'
'Moody, old man,' Sirius said pleadingly, his restraint close to breaking point, 'don't.'

'So you've got that?' Moody asked. 'Longbottom can check your work and write out the final; put
them in my office when you're done.'

'Got it,' Sirius said.

There was a pinch to his other shoulder that made him jump, and Moody said 'I know that girl has
a lot of hair Black, but you can't tell me it gets all over you just from a friendly hug.' Sirius turned
to see his boss with a very long and very curly strand of chestnut coloured hair pinched between
forefinger and thumb. Before he could even think of an excuse – or laugh at his pirate face – the
end of the walking stick jabbed his knee and Moody muttered, 'At least change your clothes before
you come to work.' Then he turned and stumped from the cubicle.

Sirius rubbed as his kneecap, thinking that he had changed his clothes but it wasn't his fault they'd
gotten a little carried away when he'd kissed Hermione goodbye on his way out the door.

Sirius was very proud of the progress he had made: two entire reports finished and passed over the
wall and it had only taken him four hours. He was enjoying a moment of self-congratulation when
his third paper plane of the day came zooming at his head out of nowhere.

Mutt,

Don't be an antisocial tosser. (Blame my rudeness on insanity caused by boredom)

Stag

He really should reply, but had been putting it off from indecision. As much as Sirius really really
wanted to spend the night alone with his rather distracting housekeeper, he couldn't help but think
how much he would hate himself if they failed to stop Voldemort and Sirius had to live with the
knowledge that he had thrown away one of his last opportunities to see his best friend just for a
shag … it wasn't that important … and anyway wasn't he supposed to be a grown-up who liked
Hermione because she was smart, and witty and an excellent conversationalist … and smelled nice
… and had a great arse …. and made the most brilliant noise when he – a scrunched up piece of
parchment hit him in the face and he looked around to see Frank's head poking over the wall, a
second parchment ball in his hand read to throw. 'What, Longbottom?'

'Nothing,' Frank shrugged, 'just wanted to see if you'd notice.'

'Well I did.' He snatched the projectile from his desk and lobbed it back at Frank's head, hitting him
in the eye.

'You know, Black,' Frank said blinking, and sounding a little annoyed, 'you really should see
someone about your drifting off problem, it's not natural.'

'I'm fine, just a bit distracted today … tired and stuff.'

Frank didn't reply for a moment and then he said in a very different tone of voice, 'Are you even
thinking? Or is it like, a total blank?' He sounded quite concerned. Sirius scrunched his face up at
what he considered a totally bizarre question, but Frank continued 'You don't think you've been
Imperioused do you?'

Sirius burst out laughing, 'Imperioused? What the hell Longbottom? I've just got a lot on my mind.'
Frank gave him a look that quite clearly said that he didn't believe him, so Sirius said, 'I'll tell you
all about it in a few weeks, just got to sort out a couple of things first.'

'Right …' Frank said slowly, 'is it about your girl?'

'Sort of,' Sirius said honestly. Frank's head vanished and the wall squeaked as he climbed off his
desk. Sirius was very glad Frank wasn't going to pester him about it; maybe it was a bit odd to just
drop it right there, but he wasn't going to question it.

Then Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin as Frank's quiet voice said from behind him, 'What is the
deal with Hermione, anyway? My mother tells me she's a Fehr but Lily told Alice it's all a sham.'

Not dropping it then, Sirius thought ruefully. 'Shit mate, have you been taking lessons from
Moody?' He asked as he turned in his chair to face the other Auror, but Frank didn't answer, just
stood there waiting for Sirius to tell him the truth. Frank was trustworthy, Sirius knew that, so he
said in a whisper, 'Er … sham, but don't tell your mother; I'll tell you all about it later, it's just a bit
complicated at the moment.' Frank still looked sceptical at this vague excuse. 'Look, Moody and
Dumbledore know what's going on alright?' Sirius assured him, 'It's for the Order, we just can't
have too many people knowing. I promise I'll tell you when we're done.' Then he smiled, 'Honestly
mate, you wouldn't believe me anyway.'

'Okay, I'll hold you to that.' Frank said, before he left to return to his own desk.

At five o'clock Sirius's habit of daydreaming paid off for the first time ever - although maybe it
wasn't classed as daydreaming when you had your eyes closed and were possibly asleep, but the
point was that because his brain was occupied elsewhere and his eyes were shut he was not blinded
by James's final message of the day when it flew at his eyelid.

Wolf brought whiskey – boredom eradicated! Come on!

Sirius grinned, he tore a strip of parchment from the bottom of the last draft report he still hadn't
finished – due to sleeping at his desk – and scribbled a reply;

You are a rude and persistent bastard. But you win.

'Prongs,' Sirius called quietly as he knocked on the door of the Potter's cottage at seven that
evening. He smiled down at Hermione as they waited for James to come and perform his
ceremonial gatekeeper duties. His arm was around her shoulders and he said in a low voice, 'Did
you know that I was accused of being under the Imperious curse today because of you. '

'Why?' Hermione asked aghast, who would think she would put the Imperious curse him?

He grinned at her reaction. 'Something to do with my vacant expression apparently.'

'Oh,' she said, relaxing again - she could understand that, having been rather vague all day herself.
It wasn't just their rather enthusiastic morning on the sofa, though. Although she had been quite
shocked at first to discover that she had been sleeping within arm's reach of Harry's wand for the
last ten nights, she had quickly decided to talk to Dumbledore about it before mentioning any
possible repercussions to Remus and Sirius. She didn't know enough about wandlore to understand
why the wand would choose Sirius when he said it didn't feel right, only to pass into Remus's
possession and seem to be a good fit, when it was supposed to be Harry's wand.

Hermione had sent Zoff to Dumbledore, asking for a meeting; they needed to discuss the final
arrangements for Hallowe'en anyway. He would be telling the Potters this weekend that they
should find a secret keeper, and it was all approaching so quickly that Hermione felt the need go
over the plan in detail again to calm her nerves. Zoff had arrived in the coal range in the late
afternoon with a reply from Dumbledore that said they would likely bump into each other that
evening. This had confused her until Sirius had returned from work and said they were going to the
Potters for dinner.

While she had been waiting for Dumbledore to reply, she had found it rather difficult to settle to
anything, not because of wands or Voldemort-ambushing, but due instead to the man standing next
to her on the doorstep. She would never admit it to anyone other than him – because her reputation
for being clever and sensible would crumble around her – but Hermione had spent a considerable
part of her day in a disgustingly girly daze, gazing blankly into space and smiling dreamily at the
thought of staying here with him. It was quite horrendous.

She smirked up at Sirius, 'Well in that case I guess I'm lucky no one sees me all day, or I would
face the same accusations,' and then she jumped as his hand moved down her back and
unexpectedly pinched her bum. 'Ow!' she squeaked, and jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her
wand.

Sirius flinched, though he was still grinning. 'Hey, it's a compliment.'

'Compliments shouldn't leave bruises,' she replied sternly, concealing her smile and swatting his
hand away as it made a second attempt.

There were footsteps from inside the house, and James asked in his threatening and serious
doorman voice, 'Who is it?'

'It's Padfoot, and Moony's daughter,' Sirius said. Hermione wondered if she would ever get her
own alias - as funny and flattering as it was to be constantly associated with Remus, she couldn't
help the disturbing image of her friend seducing her mother that popped into her head every time it
was mentioned, but the only other thing she had been referred to was Housekeeper. The idea of her
Mum shagging Remus was nowhere near as offensive as being a servant who was only paid in
continually-interrupted mildly sexual favours, so she would happily put up with being "Moony's
daughter" for the time being.

'How did I trick you into thinking you were dying in third year?' James asked.

Sirius laughed, 'You and the evil house elf who told me I was fat you mean?'

'Yes,' James said, 'she was a darling, best jammy dodgers ever – but I said how, not who.'

'Itching powder on my school shirts you dirty prat, I really thought I had Dragon Pox or
something.' Hermione could hear James chortling to himself in a self-satisfied way as Sirius asked,
'Okay, how did we get out of that detention Minnie gave us all in sixth, for telling the firsties at the
welcome feast that if they didn't charm their bed curtains shut the Bloody Baron would come and
get them in the night?'

'Oh Merlin, that's right!' James said, 'Shit, Lily was so mad at me … madder than usual even. I still
don't think we even deserved a punishment considering we taught most of them how to do the
charm, but anyway it was Moony – as usual – convinced McGonagall that we just wanted them to
learn, and since it was a third year charm and the little nippers could all do it by the following
morning, she retracted the sentence.' James opened the door, his arm lunging out to yank Sirius into
a rough hug, saying 'Lily made blue macaroons mate, I told you you wouldn't regret coming, even
if you have better people… er, things to do.' He winked at Hermione over his friend's shoulder, but
then his eyes behind his glasses widened a little as he grunted in surprise when Sirius drove his fist
into James's stomach.
Sirius ducked out from under James's arm and laughed nervously; with half a glance at Hermione
he said, 'Merlin, can't that bloody wolf keep his mouth shut about anything?'

James massaged his stomach, grinning widely at Sirius's embarrassment and said chirpily, 'Well
someone's got to tell me these things. I'm a prisoner here.' Then he looked down his nose in a very
good librarian impression and said to Hermione in a sombre voice, 'Just so you know, none of us
will hold it against you when you finally come to your senses.'

Hermione laughed, James looked so serious. 'I'll keep it in mind,' she said with a nod.

'Come on then,' James said happily, serious expression vanishing as he cuffed Sirius around the
head, 'there's whiskey to be drunk, and dinner's nearly ready,' and he bounced away into the sitting
room.

Hermione glanced at Sirius who was rubbing his ear. 'He seemed pleased to see you,' she said with
a giggle at the disgruntled expression on Sirius's face and she made to follow their exuberant host
and his promise of whiskey.

But Sirius held her back, 'He um … means it you know,' he said quietly not quite meeting her eyes,
'if you stay and … well … this doesn't…' He shook his head, and looked at his hand that was
gripping her arm, 'er … I mean … you will still have friends,' he muttered.

Hermione felt an odd tugging inside her. This was one of her biggest fears about staying: if they
managed to find a way for her to live and work here, and then in six months' time this thing with
Sirius fell apart, that she would feel duty-bound to stay for her job, and that it would be very lonely
without the companionship of Remus, and she guessed Lily and James too, once she spent a bit
more time with them and got used to their company. James was so much like Harry, slightly posher
but also much happier, even given that he had been trapped in his house for a year. And Lily was
crafty and funny, and loved everyone so much; and with all the worry and pressure of her son being
in danger she still managed to find enough joy to do ridiculous things like stand in the middle of
her kitchen and ask Hermione to teach her to dance.

So to hear Sirius reassure her in his clumsy but endearing way – without her even having to
mention it – made her want to imitate Frederica and pinch his cheek. She didn't however. 'Thanks,'
she said, taking his hand and pulling him along to the sitting room, saying in an undertone, 'though
they might not be so forgiving when their friend Padfoot has irremovable tentacles all over his
face.'

'How do you know it will be my fault?' He laughed quietly, 'You might meet some handsome
centaur through your work at the Ministry and run off to live in the forest with him.'

'I'm not really one for horses,' Hermione snorted. 'Dogs are okay though.' He grinned at her but
then looked mildly affronted as she added, 'as long as they're house trained.'

Sirius didn't have time to be offended for long, because as soon as they entered the sitting room
Remus said from his armchair, 'Look Pads,' pointing to a large plate piled high with homemade
macaroons, all in varying shades of blue and much bigger than the store bought ones Hermione had
provided him with in times of need. 'They're amazing.' Remus said happily as James wrinkled his
nose in apparent distaste. Sirius released her hand immediately and headed to the table, sitting cross
legged on the floor in front of it, obviously deeming the couch or chairs too far away from the
azure treasures.

'Do you drink whiskey Hermione?' James asked as he poured drinks for himself and Sirius – Remus
already had a half full glass balanced on the arm of his chair. 'I think Lily has wine if you'd rather,'
'No, I like firewhiskey,' Hermione said, 'though if you ever get the chance you should try Sirius's
grandfather's home-made stuff, it's delicious.'

James looked confused. 'Your grandfather makes his own whiskey?' he asked Sirius, who was off
in a little world of his own, chewing on his biscuit a look of bliss on his face, 'That's a bit, er ...
muggle isn't it?'

'Yeah,' Sirius said around his mouthful, 'Mother says it's a dishonour to the Noble House of Black,
but she still drinks it. Hermione's right, it's bloody delicious, I'll swipe a bottle next time I'm there.
You can have it for your Christmas present.'

'Cheap bastard,' James said with a chuckle, handing Hermione her drink. She sat next to James on
the sofa and watched in amusement as he continued to fill Sirius's glass where it sat on the table, to
the point that the whiskey was level with the rim of the glass and there would be no way of picking
it up to have a sip without spilling it.

Remus laughed as he noticed this, murmuring 'Children' under his breath.

Sirius just grinned at James when he saw it and bent over the glass, slurping it down to a
respectable level; then licking his lips and smacking them together noisily he said disparagingly,
'Prongs mate, you've got to do better than that.'

There was a light laugh from the doorway and Hermione turned to see Lily smiling into the room,
'Hello you two,' she said, 'sorry, I was just giving Harry his dinner, the little devil thinks that food
is made for throwing so I thought I'd feed him before we all sat down.' She looked at the glass in
Hermione's hand and then at her husband. 'And where's mine? Slaving away alone in the kitchen
and you don't even pour me a drink. You're lucky you're handsome,' she said, 'or I'd never put up
with you.'

'My handsomeness and the fact that we can't leave the house,' James said with a chortle, pouring
his wife a glass.

As she came to collect it Remus said, 'I know how that feels … being trapped.' He gave Sirius a
meaningful look and Hermione felt herself blush. That morning, after Harry's wand had decided
Remus could be its owner, the werewolf had gone to use the loo before he left; Sirius and
Hermione had become somewhat involved in his absence and it had been a while before either of
them had noticed that he had not returned. Hermione had gone looking for Remus only to find him
lying on Sirius's bed reading. When she had questioned what he was doing in there, he'd pointed
out that the only two people that could let him out of the flat seemed otherwise occupied and that
he'd not wanted to interrupt for a second time for fear of being jinxed by one or both of the busy
parties.

Sirius shrugged as James and Lily laughed – they had obviously been filled in on Remus's
imprisonment already – then Sirius raised his glass in salute and said to Remus in a dignified tone,
'Your hardship does not go unappreciated good sir.'

Dinner was very enjoyable that evening. The food was lovely as ever, Lily could give Molly
Weasley a run for her money; Hermione wondered to herself if this was one of the reasons Harry
had loved the Weasleys so much, ingrained memories of spectacular cooking. She smiled endlessly
as Sirius and Remus had an argument that had apparently been going on for nearly a decade
involving Hagrid's hut, some confusing test run of a plan of Remus's and weirdly, hedgehogs.
James and Lily were rolling their eyes, and Hermione couldn't help but think that she a rarely felt
so at ease around a group of people in her life. It was probably because they hadn't known her as an
awkward bossy know-it-all, or maybe that Remus was just as bookish as she was so they were used
to her type, but she supposed the reason didn't matter - if they liked her for the person she was now
that was the main thing.

Hermione was a little concerned that when they told Lily and James what they had done with the
Horcruxes and Voldemort, and possibly – she wasn't sure, because they hadn't talked about it in
depth – that she was from the future and had grown up with their son, that they might have a
different view of her, not to mention being angry for putting them at risk on Hallowe'en night. But
that was still fourteen days from now and she had to find a way to stay first, so she pushed that
thought aside and concentrated on the slightly whiskey-pink faces of her companions and smiled.

When Lily got up to serve dessert, Hermione began to wonder when Dumbledore would arrive.
The three men had all consumed a reasonable amount of whiskey by now; she imagined the look
on her Harry's face if he ever found out that his Dad had been drunk in Dumbledore's presence
twice in four weeks, then considered that any Harry she encountered from here on out would have
grown up accustomed to James and would be considerably less shocked, but then realised that she
was hardly one to judge if the slight fogginess in her own mind was anything to go by. So she
applied herself to her apple pie and listened as James – who was quite a gifted story teller – began
the impressive and historical tale of the first time Professor McGonagall had laughed at one of
their jokes. Lily leaned toward Hermione as and said in a stage whisper, 'Honestly, I thought for
sure that the sky was about to start falling.'
 The Woes of Stag and Doe

16 th October

By the time Dumbledore arrived at the Potters on Friday evening Hermione had almost forgotten
she was waiting for him. After dinner, the men had the duty of guarding Harry while Hermione
and Lily did the dishes – someone had to keep the toddler away from the bubbles, which
apparently caused transports of delight, also known as "eardrum-popping squeals, best to be
avoided", according to Lily. Hermione was just wondering how on earth to fit the huge roasting
pan into the cupboard Lily had indicated without either extending the narrow cabinet or shrinking
the pan, when there was a knock at the front door. Lily stilled for a moment beside her and they
listened to James's heavy footsteps as he went to answer it, before the laughter coming from the
sitting room obscured them again. What were they using for identification in there?

Dumbledore entered the kitchen not long after. 'Good evening Lily, Hermione,' he said with a
courteous dip of his head.

'Hello Professor,' Lily replied cheerfully, pulling the plug from the sink so that the water drained
noisily away. 'Would you like a drink? We're done in here.'

'I'm quite all right for the time being, thank you Lily,' Dumbledore said pleasantly, 'but I did want
to have a quick word with Hermione before I speak with James and yourself.'

Lily's eyes flicked to Hermione for a moment and then she said with a smile, 'Okay, come get us
when you're ready.' She gave Hermione one more look before she left to join the others in the
sitting room.

Hermione looked down at the dish in her hands, then to the tiny cupboard and decided the roasting
pan could live on the bench for the time being. 'How are you Professor?' she asked, taking a seat at
the kitchen table.

'I am very well, Hermione,' he said, sitting beside her. 'Our exciting adventure approaches. I cannot
deny that I am very much looking forward to the dawn of All Saints Day.'

'Yes,' Hermione agreed. Even with her own future's uncertainty, she too was very eager for
November to arrive, to know one way or the other if they had succeeded.

'Now Hermione, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?' Dumbledore asked, looking almost
worried.

'Well Professor,' Hermione began, 'it's about wands.' Dumbledore's apprehensive expression faded
at her words, and she wondered what difficult issue he had thought she was going to raise - but as
the wand question seemed far more pressing, she continued, 'You see, Sirius bought a new one at
the beginning of this month, but because he got his old wand back from Rabastan that same day, he
didn't use the new one for long, so I didn't notice until this morning that it's the same wand that
Harry used in my time.'

Dumbledore's silver eyebrows went up and he murmured, 'Fawkes's other wand choseHarry?'

'Yes,' Hermione said confusedly. 'How did you know it was that wand, sir?'
Dumbledore smiled. 'As much as I wish to claim omniscience, I must admit to the much more
common, though equally valuable, virtue of literacy,' Hermione must have had an odd expression
on her face, because the silver moustache twitched and Dumbledore explained, 'Mr Ollivander
wrote to me after the wand had been purchased. Garrick said he tried to inform young Mr Black of
the wand's significance, but that his customer seemed very distracted throughout the transaction; as
Mr Black had just escaped the clutches of the Death Eaters I think he is to be forgiven for having
other things on his mind.'

'So the wand is significant then, Professor?' Hermione asked, and then frowned slightly. 'If you
knew Sirius had it why didn't you tell us?'

'Well I will admit I have been somewhat busy these last few weeks,' Dumbledore said casually.

'Yes sir,' Hermione said feeling a little irritated at his blasé attitude. Even if he had not wanted to
send an owl, they had seen him in person since then - did he really not think they should have
known this? 'But the wand shares a core with Voldemort's, didn't you think that was important?'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'It does not seem particularly relevant, considering the unlikelihood of
Sirius being anywhere near Voldemort. As you said, he regained his own wand from Rabastan
Lestrange before I even knew of the purchase, so Fawkes's wand wasn't even being used. '

'Yes, but Professor...' Hermione trailed off, forcing herself not to grit her teeth at this feeble excuse.
The Death Eaters had captured Sirius, and he'd been in Voldemort's presence just weeks ago; surely
they might do it again. What was with Dumbledore keeping things to himself, she thought in
frustration. 'Well, it turns out it could be a problem,' she said tartly. 'You see, Remus is using the
wand now. '

Dumbledore looked concerned for a fleeting moment at then said, 'And how is he finding it?'

'Remus is the one who will be here on Hallowe'en - aren't you worried?' Hermione asked
incredulously. How could this not matter to him? 'I mean Professor, he is basically your second,
and he's armed with a wand that won't work properly against Riddle because of the reverse spell
effect.'

'Priori Incantatem,' Dumbledore murmured under his breath, 'and how do you know of that
Hermione? It is a very rare piece of magic. '

'Because it saved Harry's life the night Voldemort regained his body. This is why I'm worried
Professor! Harry didn't really go into detail about what happened that night, but you told him then
about the effect of the twin cores so I looked it up. If Riddle beats you - if Remus is forced to fight
him, he will be at a disadvantage right from the start.' She wanted the Headmaster to at least admit
that she wasn't wrong to be concerned about this.

'As will Voldemort,' Dumbledore countered, then he was quiet for a moment before seeming to
come to a conclusion. 'It is not Mr Lupin's job to fight Voldemort,' he said seriously. 'Mr Potter will
be here as well, a trained duelist, in the unlikely event that I do not beat Tom myself – and as I will
be well hidden and well prepared I cannot see how I could fail.' Then he gave a small smile and
added, 'I'm quite good with a wand Hermione.'

'Yes Professor' Hermione said, agitated again, 'but doesn't it seem foolish to knowingly put Remus
in his path with a faulty tool?'

'Wandlore is mysterious Miss Granger, even those who have studied it for years only scratch the
surface. Wands choose their masters for reasons that are very difficult to understand - and
impossible to predict, even if one is from the future.' He fixed her with a stern look that forced
Hermione to remind herself that he was not her Headmaster anymore. In this conversation they
were equals, and he could not expect her to just take him at his word. She met his eyes almost
defiantly, as he continued in a lighter tone, 'I would suggest we put it from our minds for now. If
Mr Lupin is using it happily then wisdom says he is supposed to have it; therefore it will be more
of a help to him than a hindrance should my own prodigious skill fail me in a fortnight.'

'But Professor, the same could be said for Voldemort's wand!' Hermione said in exasperation; they
were going round in circles. 'The whole point of my coming from the future was the ability to be
prepared, and I feel like this is asking for trouble.' She gave Dumbledore a stern look of her own.
Though she had sobered significantly since dinner and felt quite herself again, she thought perhaps
the effects of the whiskey were still present, for surely a sober Hermione Granger would not scold
the greatest wizard of the age – no matter the provocation.

'Hermione,' Dumbledore said placatingly, quite taken aback at her tone, 'I understand your concern,
but there is not much to be done about it. I know you want to have everything planned as much as
possible, but sometimes we must … go with the flow as it were.'

'But –' Hermione began, not wanting to be swayed - he never seemed to take things seriously
enough. No wonder Harry used to get so annoyed with him, she thought.

But Dumbledore cut her off. 'There is nothing to be done about the wand at the present moment,'
he said resolutely. 'Inform Mr Lupin if you wish, but I do not think it is something to trouble
yourself with. As I say, plans are a fine thing but magic is elusive at best. It is only when we reach
our destination that we can be sure we have taken the right path,' he said with finality, and
Hermione felt her resolve to fight him on this waver. His piercing gaze suggested it would not be a
wise move in any case.

'Speaking of destinations,' Dumbledore said, the hard look in his eyes fading and his voice
returning to its previous cordial tone, 'there is something else I wanted to talk you about. Alastor
tells me that you do not wish to return to your time.' He paused inquiringly.

'Er … yes Professor.' Hermione was slightly alarmed that he knew, and using it her remind her that
he was not the only one choosing the less-advised path seemed quite underhanded. Hermione knew
he was just trying to move the conversation away from wands - staying in 1981 was a personal
choice, and it wasn't going to affect Hallowe'en so it had nothing to do with Dumbledore - but she
still felt the need to justify herself. 'Professor, it's so unlikely that I will have a life I recognise when
I get back, and I won't be the same person that left; my friends – if I have any at all – will be
complete strangers to me,' she said as though it were a perfectly reasonable excuse, 'and if I'm here
I will still know Harry, and if I know him then Ron as well, I don't think any amount of time-
fiddling could stop those two being friends.'

'I see,' Dumbledore said with a nod, before meeting her eyes; there was an amused twinkling his
blue gaze, 'and these are the only reasons you wish to stay?'

Hermione blushed, angry with herself for being caught out choosing romance over the restoration
of the timeline and all its confusing consequences. 'I think you know the other one Professor,' she
muttered.

Dumbledore chuckled, infuriating Hermione further. 'Yes I believe I do. Alastor has a very high
opinion of you, but I will say he seemed rather piqued that you would make such a decision for – if
I remember his terminology correctly – "that flighty bugger".'

'It is not set in stone Professor, I'm not that irresponsible,' she said calmly, willing her pink cheeks
away. 'I'm only going to stay if I can find a way to have an identity.' Then Hermione realised that if
anyone would know how to achieve her goal Dumbledore surely would, so she put her
embarrassment aside and asked, 'Do you think that would be possible Professor?'

Dumbledore gave her a searching look, the twinkling that had momentarily returned to his eyes no
longer visible, before replying, 'In situations like this – which are quite impossible in themselves –
we should live in the moment Miss Granger; it does not do to have regrets.' Then he allowed her a
tiny smile and said, 'We have quite enough to be getting on with at present in any case. Have you
made some sort of schedule for me to adhere to on the day of Hallowe'en? Misters Black and Lupin
tell me they are something of a forte of yours.'

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of this cryptic statement and the abrupt change of topic. Live in
the moment – what a non-answer! She was a little worried at his concern, and the serious look on
his face. She could understand his not wanting her to be distracted when there were far more
important things for her to be concentrating on than a handsome man, but his grandfatherly teasing
was almost contradictory to that. In her experience Dumbledore had never set much store by the
rules of any institution, but she knew he would never openly condone a flagrant disrespect for the
laws of time, especially if it were dangerous or had broader implications. Was he discouraging her
from trying, or only acknowledging that he shouldn't encourage her? This was the kind of advice
that had Harry so frustrated their sixth year – all Dumbledore lacked now was a vague reference to
the power of love.

If he wasn't going to offer help then she would rather not talk to him about it, so she settled for
answering his question. 'Not yet Professor, but I will draw up something this week, for all of us. At
this stage I know that Sirius, Remus and I will go to Little Hangleton at around three in the
morning to begin the containment; twelve hours to work should be enough. Remus will leave
around midday to spend the afternoon here. I had thought that to prevent too much magical
disturbance you should probably arrive in the morning – will you be okay to sit around under the
cloak all day?'

'I think I will manage,' Dumbledore nodded agreeably. 'Time alone with my thoughts - it will be
very novel. Would it be terrible of me to say I'm looking forward to it?'

'No Professor,' Hermione said with a grudging smile. Whatever his faults, Dumbledore always saw
the lighter side of a situation; considering what was to come, she supposed it was a better attitude
than being snippy about things she couldn't control or understand. 'I thought the same thing when I
first arrived here, but I have to say that after five months of not doing much all day long I've grown
very bored of my own mind.'

'Hermione - what a horrible suggestion!' He sounded quite appalled. 'Our minds are what make us
–' A shuddering crash from the sitting room cut off his thought; Hermione and Dumbledore looked
at each other in shock during the momentary aftershock of echoing silence, and then a raucous peal
of laughter broke free. Hermione heard an annoyed grunt that was easily recognisable as Sirius
saying, 'Bloody kid,' before the hysterics increased considerably.

'I think we best get tonight's conversation underway or Mr Potter will not even remember that I
was here.' Dumbledore chuckled, standing from the table, 'Shall we discover the cause of the
amusement, Miss Granger?'

They entered the sitting room to see Harry giggling wildly as he zoomed about on his toy
broomstick. Sirius lay sprawled on his back in the floor of the sitting room, watching Harry with
trepidation and looking none too pleased with the arrangement. Remus sat hunched over in his
chair trying to catch his breath between bouts of laughter. Lily was leaning into James's shoulder,
grinning at Sirius's continued grumbles; James, however, was watching Harry fly with a look of
consideration on his face. His son sped past him, his little forehead furrowed in concentration as he
turned in a wide arc and pelted directly down at his godfather, letting out a high-pitched squeal as
he crashed into Sirius's midriff; full toy-broom speed may not have had anything on a real
broomstick but was still enough to make Sirius grunt on impact and wheeze out, 'Merlin kid,
enough, why don't you crash onto your dad instead? Or Moony?' But Sirius was grinning as he
snaked an arm out to trap his godson before he could scamper away.

Harry squirmed and giggled as his godfather tried to reason with him; Sirius released him and the
toddler instantly scrambled unsteadily onto his fallen broom, and triumphantly lisped 'Crash!',
before pushing into the air again.

'You know …' James said thoughtfully, not seeming to find his best friend being used as a landing
strip as funny as the others, 'I think he might be a beater rather than a chaser – we'll have to get him
a bat and some bludgers and see how he goes, Lily.'

Lily stopped laughing, her expression disbelieving, 'Did you just suggest that you want our fifteen
month old son have bludgers fly at him?'

'Er … soft ones?' James's eyes were still on his son's path through the air, 'Well he's got to learn
doesn't he? If he's going to be a beater bludgers are part of the equation.' He shrugged, obviously
not sensing Lily's growing irritation.

'At fifteen months?' she all but hissed.

'Well …' James said slowly and then he nodded, 'You're right, maybe we should wait until he's two
…'

'James, I really don't think –'

Dumbledore coughed pointedly and the others seemed to notice he was there for the first time,
'Lily, James? I wanted to have a word with you about security, could we?'

Sirius hoisted himself from the carpet and looked at Hermione. 'I think that's our cue to leave.
Moony – it's floor duty for you.' Sirius grinned at his apprehensive friend and said, 'You may as
well get down there now; he'll kneecap you the minute you stand up anyway.'

Remus got up from his chair reluctantly, and accepted his crash pad duty. Lying down in the
middle of the carpet like Sirius had been he said in defeat, 'Alright then Harry, give us your best
go.'

Whether the toddler knew what Remus meant or not didn't seem to matter, because he was already
flying in the wide turn that would send him on a collision course with the werewolf.

James Potter found Harry's favourite flying game very educational. It was excellent target practice
for the boy, and any competent Quiddich player needed to know how to control his direction
without conscious thought, so it was never too early for Harry to start learning. Quiddich players
also needed to rid themselves of the little voice in their head everybody had that said "Don't do
that, it will hurt!" so becoming accustomed to crashing was useful too. But James was not sure if
he liked the idea of his son being a beater - a valuable position of course, and vital to a decent
team, but the type of person who played beater did not usually have the skills for the captaincy,
something he was sure his son would want. Perhaps Harry could break the mould, be the first
clever beater in Hogwarts history. As Harry flew by laughing, James wondered whether it was the
crashing he liked, or the diving. Maybe it was the diving, he thought when his son's eyes narrowed
in concentration as he began his decent toward Remus.

There was a tugging at his arm, 'Come on, Dumbledore wants to talk to us.' Lily said, breaking
through his musings on what enjoying diving could mean for his son's Quiddich career. It was
probably too soon to start deciding now anyway, James thought, we'll see next year.

'Where are Padfoot and Hermione?' James asked his wife, looking around and realising they were
absent.

'They just left,' Lily said. 'I can't believe you didn't notice, they said good-bye.'

'Oh,' said James, feeling quite rude for not even replying. He stood from the couch and looked
down at Remus on the floor. 'You alright to keep Harry busy while we talk to Dumbledore?'

'Sure,' Remus said, 'as Padfoot said, if I stand up Harry'll just knock me back down anyway so I
might as well quit while I'm ahead.' James chuckled to himself, his boy was going to be spoilt
rotten growing up with so many people who loved him. He followed Lily into the kitchen as Harry
squealed, signalling his impending impact with the prone werewolf.

Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen table flipping through one of Lily's handwritten recipe
books, 'Any requests Professor?' Lily asked as she sat down next to the Headmaster.

'Not at this stage Lily, although this lemon tart does look rather enticing.'

'I'll send you one next time I make a batch,' Lily said, folding the page of the tattered collection
over at the corner. 'That's one of Mrs Potter's recipes, she had a quite a talent for pastries'

'Ah, what a talent to have,' the Headmaster said appreciatively.

'So what is this about, Dumbledore?' James asked, taking a seat at the table, 'Has something
happened? Do we need to move again?'

'No James, but I have received some more information; it seems Voldemort has decided on his
target.'

James felt the familiar prickle of tingly cold fear wash over him; they had known this could happen
but that didn't make it any less terrifying. Why did it have to be his son, he asked himself for the
millionth time since last summer. He jumped slightly as Lily's small hand crept into his beneath
the table, her warm fingers interlacing with his. Squeezing it briefly he looked at her; her face was
pale but that was the only indication that she was as frightened as he was. 'I take it we're the lucky
couple then,' James said dully, meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

Dumbledore gave a solemn nod. 'I'm afraid so, but I have worked out a strategy - do you know of
the Fidelius Charm?'

James shook his head, but Lily said, 'I think so… that's a new variation on soul concealment, isn't it
Professor?' She was frowning thoughtfully. Her fingers twitched in James's hand as Dumbledore
nodded again. 'How does it work?' she asked. James felt the constricting fear inside him loosen;
Lily wasn't as worried now, he could see it in her face, she was concentrating, almost hopeful – this
Fidelius charm must be strong protection.

'It is based on the idea of trust, that no magic is stronger than human will.' Dumbledore said, 'You
must choose a person who you trust more than anyone, who would be willing to perish to keep
your secret safe.' James's heart sped up, why hadn't they done this months ago? It just so happened
that he knew of three such people. 'You hide your secret using the protection of their soul; they
must want very much for you to do this, or it will not be effective.'

'How does it affect the protected?' Lily asked.

'Not physically at all,' the Headmaster said, seeming to acknowledge Lily's question as a good one,
'but you are hidden from everyone – impossible to find unless your Secret Keeper divulges your
whereabouts.' Lily nodded as Dumbledore went on, 'I think that this will be the best way to ensure
that Harry is protected, but you must think very carefully about who you would like to use.'

James looked at Lily, he wasn't sure - Sirius, Remus or Peter? They all had their strengths. Sirius's
were obvious, he wasn't afraid of anyone; James had listened to him back-chat Voldemort and hold
strong under torture, he would never give them up. But then Remus was so clever he would never
be caught in the first place, let alone get himself in a situation where Voldemort even knew he had
the information. And Pete might be scared of this war but he felt he owed James for all their years
of friendship, and as long as Sirius and Remus stood with him he would bear up – and there was
the added benefit of him being quite removed from the trouble, and his mother's house well
protected.

'Remus or Sirius?' Lily asked softly, 'We couldn't do this to Peter, he'd die of fright.' James grinned
- she was right, his intentions were good but Peter did not handle stress well.

'I'm afraid Mr Lupin is not suitable,' Dumbledore said sadly.

James narrowed his eyes. 'Of course he is, how dare you –'

'The charm requires a human soul,' the Headmaster interrupted gently.

'Oh,' James said; he always forgot that Remus was more than human. 'So… Padfoot then?' he asked
Lily.

She nodded, 'Yes I think so… Do you think he will? I mean, it would put him and Hermione in
danger. You remember what he was like when you told her to go to Forte de Sang – he might not
want to risk her again... you said yourself he's different about her.'

'Lils,' James squeezed her hand again, 'he might be totally pie-eyed for the girl but he'll do this for
us, for Harry.' He gave a little chuckle and added, 'Hermione understands how serious this all is, so
I don't think she'd let him say no. You saw her that night… she'll probably deliver a stunned
Padfoot to our door if he refuses.'

Lily smiled at him, 'That's true – I probably should be angry at her for knocking you out, but really
… well, I can see how it would have been necessary.' She turned to Dumbledore. 'So Professor,
how does this work?'

'I will teach one of you the charm –'

'You'll teach Lily the charm you mean,' James muttered.

Dumbledore chortled, 'I didn't want to assume.'

'Yeah, she'll pick it up much quicker than I will – she's always had a knack for charms.'

Dumbledore nodded. As Lily began to ask more and more probing questions about the inner
workings of the spell, James grinned - he could hear that sound in Lily's voice, the drive to
understand. It was one of the many things wonderful things about her; she liked to get to the
bottom of things and she loved mysteries, whether they be a difficult spell or a person's behaviour.
His mind began to wander as he watched his wife leaning forward over the table, her hand slipping
from his as she became engrossed in the conversation; Lily's curiosity was possibly the only reason
he was lucky enough to be her husband in the first place.…

James was in a hurry - not the usual escape-the-scene-of-the-crime hurry, but almost the opposite.
He needed to see Professor McGonagall before Quiddich trials that morning, and with Sirius's
childish morning antics, he was already short on time. James snickered to himself; it might have
been childish, but the look on every Slytherin boy's face when they passed through the doors to the
Great Hall for breakfast, and found their robes had become sequined and knee-length was almost
worth being late for. In his haste – and amused distraction – as he turned the corner toward
McGonagall's office, James didn't notice Lily and Mary approaching until he was nearly on top of
them.

'Good morning ladies,' James said as they came level with him. Mary returned his smile, but Lily
focused her attention determinedly on Mary's face and their whispered conversation. This was not
unexpected. James had almost given up hope that Lily would ever talk to him outside of leading
prefect meetings; these first five days of term had been very awkward, managing their Head's
duties together, when she had yet to look him in the eye – let alone speak directly to him. He almost
preferred the downright loathing he had received from her in past years, compared to the
indifference he was dealing with now. But as was his habit – after so many years of trying – the
words fell from his mouth without him even thinking about it, 'Hogsmeade next weekend, Lily?' He
spared her a polite nod and a brief glance as he passed the girls, and continued towards
McGonagall's office, expecting to hear his one hundred and ninety eighth rejection, when
something happened that made him stop.

'Why do you keep asking?' Lily said from behind him. James was sure he must have misheard - it
wasn't a no, it wasn't even a snort of derision, it was a question, and James was completely
perplexed. But then there was the clicking of shoes on the stone floor and she was standing in front
of him, her lovely eyes curious, and – he hardly dared to believe it – possibly considering him.
'Why?' she asked for a second time.

James found himself quite lost for words as he looked down at her unexpectedly non-hostile face,
but his rare muteness didn't last for long. Blurting out the first thing that came into his head he
said, 'Because you're marvellous and a little bit scary?' He berated himself internally for a moment
at this ridiculous statement - why couldn't he think of something more charming and impressive -
but everything sounded so cliché in his head, so kept his mouth shut and waited.

Then suddenly she was smiling, actually looking at him and smiling. 'Okay then,' she said. James
realised this was excellent progress, she had just agreed with him about something, for the first
time ever - even if it was about herself and very true (she really was marvellous and a bit scary) –
but that wasn't the point: They had something in common, how brilliant!

Her questioning expression deepened to the point where she was nearly frowning and she said,
'You know what Potter, after three years of asking me out I was expecting a better reaction from
you when I said yes. Are you even going to smile?' For a second he just stared at her, then as the
meaning of this statement registered in his stunned brain, he felt the smile she requested break
across his face so widely it hurt. He must have looked slightly manic because she rolled her eyes
and said, 'And you think I'm scary.' She turned in a swirl of auburn hair and left him standing in
the middle of the corridor with no memory of what he was doing there in the first place.

He probably would have stayed there for days because he couldn't really remember how to move,
but an irritable voice issued from the office in front of him. 'Come along Potter,' McGonagall
snapped, appearing the doorway, 'I realise this is a remarkable turn of events, but the trials are
about to start.'

Lily was smiling reassuringly at him when James refocused on the conversation at the kitchen
table. Her hand was back in his and she tightened her grip. 'This is a good solution James, he'll
never be able to find us.'

James looked at Dumbledore, 'You're sure?'

Dumbledore nodded, 'Yes. Unless your secret keeper is compromised, you will be quite safe.'

'Safe,' James murmured under his breath as his lips curled in little smile – the word was almost
foreign to him.

When Sirius and Hermione arrived back in London that evening Sirius felt distinctly worse for
wear. Apparition, on top of a tad too much whiskey and his on-going lack of sleep, was quite
enough to account for his spinning head, and that was without the added trauma of being
repeatedly tackled to the surprisingly painful floor by a determined child-sized bullet. All of this
combined meant that Sirius's desire to be horizontal was ranked above the normally more vital task
of breathing When they entered the sitting room Sirius's eyes found the couch immediately and
he'd already taken two steps towards it when he realised that it was unlikely that he would move
again, and that his bed – while seeming miles away at this point in time – was significantly more
comfortable, especially with Hermione in it.

After he'd completed what he considered to be a marathon to reach his bedroom – with the walls of
the hallway tipping oddly about him all the while – Sirius fell with a muffled thud, face first onto
the mattress. 'Are you okay?' Hermione's voice asked from somewhere above him.

'I am now,' he replied, getting a mouthful of bedspread as he spoke without lifting his head.

'Good, because I need to talk to you.'

'You are talking,' Sirius mumbled turning on to his back and noticing that the ceiling seemed to be
rolling and shifting - that was weird, it didn't normally do that, did it? He shut his eyes to solve the
problem.

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'but this is important,' she sounded impatiently amused.

Sirius wondered for a moment if such an emotion was even possible. He opened an eye to look at
her, 'Aren't I supposed to think everything you say is important?'

'Not if you don't want to, though it normally is,' she grinned, 'but I think you might agree with me
on this one. It's about the wand you gave Remus.' She sat beside him on the bed, causing the
mattress to dip and Sirius's equilibrium to waver; his wobbly-headed discontent must have shown
on his face because Hermione put her hand on his forehead and asked, 'Are you sure you're all
right?'

''M fine,' he said, eyes closed once more. Her fingers had settled in his hair and it was very
comforting for his unsteady head; if her hand was securing it, it probably wasn't going to roll off
his shoulders and onto the floor. 'So what about it, the wand?'

'Well, you see,' she said as her fingers moved distractingly over his scalp, 'the first time round, it
was… Harry's wand. '
'Really?' Sirius asked, resisting the urge to lick her hand like Padfoot would've to show
appreciation for the head scratching; it really was very relaxing. 'So you're worried Harry won't
have a wand now?'

'No, of course he will,' she said, her fingers stopping their idle combing. 'What concerns me is that
wands choose people for a reason; I'm pretty sure that one chose my Harry because it would save
his life – give a kid a chance against Voldemort.'

Sirius didn't understand; as much as he had fussed when he thought his was lost, a wand was just a
wand, and wizards did the magic. 'Er … why?' he asked.

'Oh right,' Hermione said, and her hand resumed its path through his hair, 'because it shares a core
with Riddle's wand; the phoenix feathers in Remus's – as I guess I should call it now – and Riddle's
wand, both come from Dumbledore's bird Fawkes.'

'Oh …. So why are you worried?' Sirius couldn't really see how this was a problem. 'If Moony has
that wand it's a good thing right? If Snakey beats Dumbledore, Remus can... I dunno… phoenix
him to death?'

'No … Sirius,' Hermione said, 'because they share a core, they don't work properly against each
other - so Remus might not be a good back up anymore.'

'Why?' he asked feeling quite lost, this whole thing seemed less distressing the more she said,
'Doesn't that mean Riddle can't get Moony either? Give Prongs time to get him?' he paused,
thinking for a moment, 'Or do you mean … do you want us to switch? Do you think I should go to
them and Remus stays with you?' Sirius was not at all keen on this idea, but she was the one with
the brain full of future rubbish, and it was her mission after all.

Her hand stopped its movement in his hair again, and she took a deep breath before answering.
Sirius was sure she was about to send him off meet Voldemort in Remus's place, but she surprised
him. 'No, I think its best we stick to the plan,' she said firmly, 'and Dumbledore assures me he
won't miss anyway, he didn't think it was a big deal at all either. But I'm still going warn Remus -
it's something he should know.'

'That's true,' Sirius said with a sigh of contentment as her fingers started up again, feeling relieved
that he wasn't going to have to face Voldemort if Dumbledore was having an off day. His dizzy
head was all but gone now, but he didn't let on for fear that Hermione would decide her medicinal
touch was no longer necessary – and he wasn't ready to give it up just yet. 'So when do you think
Prongs will ask me about the secret keeper thing? That's why Dumbledore was there tonight,
right?'

'Yes,' she said. 'I'm not sure exactly when, though. I know it's only about a week before Halloween
that the charm is performed, but they'll have to learn it first and you have to convince them about
Peter, and then they have to actually do the charm, so I guess they could ask you any day now.'

Sirius was very nervous about this part of the plan; the retrieval of the diary and cup were nowhere
near as intimidating as knowingly convincing your best friend to trust someone you knew was
going to betray them in the worst possible way. He really didn't want to admit his hesitation; telling
Hermione that he was frightened seemed poor form considering all that she had done to get here,
but he supposed it was better for her to know that he was having second thoughts so she could be
prepared in case he failed, so he said, 'What if I can't?'

'What do you mean?'

'What if … I can't do it?' Sirius exhaled heavily, 'Can't convince them, I mean - what if they think
it's a bad idea and don't do it?'

'You'll be fine,' Hermione said quietly. He could almost hear her smiling as her fingers kept up
their consoling rhythm across his scalp. 'You got your mother to talk to you again; if you can do
that you can do this.'

'I guess …' Sirius said thinking that every depressing conversation should involve having your
head scratched, it really made it easier, 'but you helped, you can't help with Prongs … timeline
bollocks.' He muttered.

'Sirius, it will be fine; this is one thing that hasn't been affected by us at all.'

That was true, he thought, except that last time he would have thought he was keeping them safe –
not sending Voldemort round for tea.

'...and just think,' Hermione continued, seeming to read his mind, 'last time you just thought it
would help them be safer, this time you know it will mean the end of the war – that's a pretty good
incentive right?'

'It is,' Sirius agreed, noticing that once again she had managed twist his uncertainty into something
less daunting without being patronising, or even suggesting that it was anything other than normal
to be scared. Her hand was still drifting though his hair, her fingernails just lightly grazing the skin
as he thought this through; before he knew it he had turned his head so that she has better access to
the area behind his ear. 'I feel like a dog,' he said as she moved her ministrations to the side of his
head.

She gave a little amused snort and said, 'Well you are … or do you mean you've done something
bad?'

'No, nothing bad … I just feel like a dog,' he mumbled, quite happy to be canine for the time being.
A dog would never find himself in the complex situation of trying to convince his best mate that a
rat was trustworthy - the dog would just eat the little rodent bastard.
 The Gaunt Shack

17 th October

Hermione woke quite early on Saturday morning after a disappointingly restless night's sleep,
presumably due to sharing her sleeping place with a snoring man. The night before, Sirius had
fallen asleep quite quickly under the combined influence of whiskey and head scratching, much to
Hermione's displeasure; it had crossed her mind that they may have found some other way to pass
the evening, rather than a gloomy discussion of wands and betrayal but sadly, this had not been the
case. Hermione was a little sad when she realised she was no longer used to Sirius's presence next
to her in the bed. Other than the two weeks of awkwardness preceding Sirius's brush with the Death
Eaters, and the last eleven days – since her escape from the muggles – they had been sleeping in
the same bed since August, and it unsettled her that the act seemed so foreign now, when it never
had before. But there was no denying that at seven that morning she was frustratingly alert, no
matter how hard she tried to go back to sleep.

Sirius would not thank her for waking him with her constant tossing and turning, she decided; she
paused, thinking of ways he might thank her for waking him, but got out of bed when she realised
her main urge was to poke him in the snoring face so he would wake up and she would have
someone to talk to. She stretched and made her way to the kitchen, to spend the morning with her
notes.

In thirteen more sleeps Hallowe'en would be here. Hermione didn't want to focus on the dawn of
the fourteenth day just yet – with no reply from Frederica, and nothing but telling the truth to fall
back on the subject of "after" was becoming very depressing – so instead she sat at the kitchen
bench working steadily on the schedule for the big day, making lists of everything they would need
to take with them, and trying to think of anything that could go wrong, and ways to counteract it.

Remus's wand irked at her constantly, but both Sirius and Dumbledore were right: it put Riddle at a
disadvantage as much as it did Remus, and possibly more so because Remus would know what to
expect. If he had enough information he may even be able to use it to his advantage, she realised,
and put her other papers aside to begin an outline of everything she could remember about Priori
Incantatem. Dumbledore was right, it was probably a moot point and Remus would never even see
Riddle, it made sense for the werewolf to be prepared.

When lunchtime rolled around, Hermione hardly noticed; Sirius was still asleep and she was still
sitting at the kitchen bench. She was feeling satisfyingly prepared for the task approaching in two
weeks - though not at all for the day ahead, since she had not even had a shower or gotten dressed
yet – when there was a knock at the door.

She paused, momentarily confused, until she heard Remus's voice calling, 'Padfoot?' as he knocked
again.

Looking down at her pyjamas Hermione cursed under her breath, but got up to answer the door
anyway - she might look like a slothful lazybones but at least her buttons were all done up.

'That you Moony?' Hermione asked when she reached the door.

'Don't tell me he's got you doing it too!' Remus laughed, 'and since when do you call me Moony?'
'I assumed it was entry etiquette,' Hermione said, 'but it does sound a bit weird, and it is a stupid
question, I mean if you were a Death Eater of course you'd say yes.'

Remus laughed again. 'You know what? Sometimes I think Pads is right about us being related.'

After this exchange Hermione felt that asking a question was quite pointless, it was obviously
Remus Lupin on the other side of the door, but it was protocol. Besides, it was Remus - Remus
would be horrified, not to mention perfectly willing to jinx her as a suspected Death Eater, if she
just let him in, so she asked, 'Where did you find an article entitled, "The Glaswegian Ghost Car"?'

'Haxby library, in York,' Remus said at once with a little snigger. 'Incidentally the librarian there
thinks I have an unhealthy obsession with old news, because I can't get enough of the articles about
odd muggle happenings, she's always coming and telling me off for laughing. Okay, last time I was
here you said you'd have to tell me a story sometime, we were talking about inherited wands. Who
was the story about?'

Hermione smiled sadly - she hadn't thought of Ron in weeks. 'My friends Ron and Harry, and how
Ron's wand got broken.' She opened the door and her smile became one of satisfaction at the sight
of Remus's happy face, reminding her that she had friends here too. 'It sort of involves you, too,'
she said, 'or at least, a certain tree on the Hogwarts grounds that was planted for your convenience.'

Remus's eyes widened. 'The willow? Did it hurt them?'

Hermione giggled at the memory of Ron and Harry's bright red faces as Mrs Weasley's howler
reprimanded them in front of the whole school. 'Not much,' she said, 'but seeing as how the idiots
crashed into it in a stolen flying car I think the willow was well within its rights to hit back.'

'Stolen flying car,' Remus mouthed looking horrified, 'Christ! That's worse than anything we got up
to at school.'

'It was by accident,' Hermione said, not wanting Remus to think Harry was a mad delinquent.

'I should hope so!' Remus shook his head in disbelief for a moment, then grinned, 'James would
have been so proud.' He looked at her strangely and added, 'Did I wake you up?'

'No, I've been up for ages, just hadn't gotten round to getting dressed yet,' she said as she closed the
door behind him. 'Being stuck inside all the time has lowered my standards of personal appearance
significantly.'

Remus chuckled, 'Nothing wrong with a decent pair of pyjamas, and anyway, you still look tidier
than most of the muggles round here, I don't know how they get dressed without stabbing
themselves on all those pins.' He winced, probably at the idea of skewered by spikey trousers,
before he asked, 'So where's Pads? I didn't think he had to work today?'

'He's still asleep, he seems to have a problem with getting enough of it lately so I've been working
on the Halloween plan this morning instead of annoying him. But I'm glad you're here, there's
something I need to talk to you about.'

'Hallowe'en stuff?' he asked.

'Sort of,' Hermione said. 'Come into the kitchen, it's a conversation that requires tea.'

'I wasn't aware there was any other kind,' Remus said cheerfully.

Hermione led the way into the kitchen and filled the teapot at the sink. The teapot itself was a huge
source of amusement for Hermione. She had thought she had known Sirius quite well, and his flat
was almost how she had expected it to be: equipped for life but not necessarily living. The general
state of disrepair and rising damp had been a rather unpleasant surprise, but it was still better than
the drafty tent she had lived in during the last Horcrux hunt so she wasn't going to complain.
Despite the large amount of junk and assorted possessions distributed over the rest of Sirius's place,
the kitchen was very bare, but this was hardly a startling revelation since he didn't use it for
anything other than an owlery where the coffee makings were kept.

She was not entirely surprised that a teapot counted among the few necessities to be found in the
coffee-bird room, but it had come as a shock to discover that the only teapot Sirius owned was an
old fashioned porcelain one that would have looked much more at home on a fussy elderly lady's
end table, surrounded by matching cups and scones with jam and cream, than in the meagre and
slightly depressing kitchen of Sirius's rundown flat. The teapot was covered in a pattern of moulded
fleur de lis all painted in blue and gold, and rather than being short and round like the one at her
hotel had been, this one was tall and had slightly flattened sides – unusual-looking, slightly
matronly, and missing the matching tea set that it should inevitably have had, but actually a very
lovely teapot.

Hermione had laughed the first time she used it, and pointed out to Sirius that it did not seem to fit
with the style of his other crockery, which was serviceable at best. He had indignantly explained
that it was a gift from James's mother; when he moved in to the flat after Hogwarts Mrs Potter had
had a worried fit of motherly organisation and given him almost everything he needed to survive –
including the very feminine teapot. But Hermione still found it funny.

Once the tea was made Hermione sat beside Remus at the counter and laid the piece of parchment
she had been working on earlier on the bench top. 'This is everything I can remember about Priori
Incantatem; it's about your wand' she said. His attention didn't seem to waver from the page in front
of him but she knew he was listening, even as his eyes flew back and forth absorbing the new
information. 'It shares a core source with Riddle's, so this,' she pointed at the parchment, 'can
happen when the wands are forced to fight each other.'

He looked up from his reading, puzzled. 'How do you know where the feather in my wand came
from?' Then his frown deepened considerably, 'and how do you know where the one in
Voldemort's wand came from?'

She smiled at him. 'And you say Sirius asks silly questions.' Remus grinned as she whispered
conspiringly, 'I'm from the future!'

Remus began to chuckle, 'You're in a good mood today.'

'It's because we're doing something again,' Hermione said as she realised it for the first time.
Understanding that the knowledge of the brother wands was probably going to be more useful than
not had lifted her somewhat dreary mission spirit. All the time spent thinking about staying or
leaving had drained her excitement for the true purpose of her being here. While she might have
felt rather warm and fuzzy over the last week, thinking about staying in 1981 with Sirius, the
feeling was obviously still tempered with such uncertainty, that the pleasant thoughts would often
be abruptly chased away by evil doubt and its and its nasty weapons of reality. Spending the
morning immersed in her notes, planning, organising, and thinking over what Dumbledore had said
– even if he had been maddeningly condescending at the time – had made her feel hopeful again;
this was the reason she was here, and Voldemort's demise was so close. 'I know about the twin
cores because the first time around that wand chose Harry,' she said.

Remus stared blankly at her for a moment, then said slowly, 'And … why do you think it chose
Padfoot this time?'

She could tell he was already putting the significance together; he knew her notes almost as well as
she did, he knew all the things Harry had done, how many times that wand had met Voldemort. 'I
don't know, but I was thinking about it this morning; I don't really understand wandlore, it's so
strange, I mean the wand chooses the wizard, but then if he is defeated by another wizard the wand
will switch it's allegiance – it seems awfully fickle of the wand.'

Remus frowned at her. 'Where did you get that from?' he said incredulously, 'If you beat someone
in a duel you win their wand? If that's the case Prongs and Padfoot should be the proud owners of
every wand in Slytherin.'

'I know – but I also know it's true of some wands. But you see what I mean? It's so confusing, like
the rules can just change.' Hermione paused as she refilled their cups from the girly teapot. 'But
then it helps with my theory on your wand,' she continued, 'I wondered if a wand chooses a wizard
on his most likely destiny, because Harry in my time was obviously going to need protection
against Riddle. So if a wand can know that, could it tell that Sirius was a threat to Riddle – the
biggest threat there ever would be in this time? Well, the biggest threat that was going to come and
buy a new wand anyway. And so it chose him, but because he still had his other wand – and really
didn't want to give the holly one a chance….' she paused, trying to find a way to articulate the
confusion but failing, and huffed in exasperation, 'Oh god I don't know, it doesn't make any bloody
sense!'

'You're telling me,' Remus mumbled, looking quite overwhelmed; then he cleared his throat and
said, 'but anyway, this twin core thing, there has to be away to use this … I mean I'm shit scared of
having to fight Voldemort but if he beats Dumbledore … but that's why I'm there, so I'll try … but
I,' he swallowed nervously, 'don't get me wrong, if it happens I'll do it and I guess if I can distract
him even for a minute James will get him, and dead Voldemort is the goal, so even if I die –'

'Remus,' Hermione cut his rambling off sternly, 'at fourteen years old, Harry escaped from Riddle –
and I think about twenty Death Eaters – using your wand, and he had no training, nothing. If he
could do it you would be able to as well, you'd just have to meet any spell he sends at you head on
with one of your own, that's all Harry did.' She smiled at him reassuringly; his face was pale but he
nodded. 'The wands won't fight each other, they'd connect, just like Harry's did … and Voldemort
has no idea at all,' She reached out and patted his hand. 'Harry said Riddle was as scared as he was
when it happened.'

Remus seemed to mull this over, looking much less terrified, and then he said at length, 'I've never
used the Killing curse before. I guess I should practice just in case,' and then a thought seemed to
strike him. 'How did Harry know how to cast it? Hogwarts students don't normally learn about the
unforgivables until sixth year, or had they changed the rules?'

'You don't have to use the same spell as him for it to happen,' Hermione said, 'Harry didn't, he tried
to disarm Riddle.' Hermione thought about telling him that the rules had changed that year, but she
he didn't want to distract Remus with the whole Barty Crouch Jr-impersonating-Moody-and-
teaching them-with-disregard-to-the-curriculum palaver, and Remus already knew about that from
the summary in the war history she had given him anyway so it would just lead them off on a
tangent.

'What? Disarm, that's all?' Remus looked horrified, 'How the hell did he survive making rubbish
decisions like that?'

Hermione remembered the older Remus being just as annoyed at Harry for his fondness of
Expelliarmus and smiled slightly, 'The wand … don't you see? It could really help.'
After a moment Remus asked quietly, 'So do you think - is that why it feels right? Because it does,
as good as my old wand. Do you think it, er … knows that it might be needed?'

Meeting Remus's imploring and confused gaze, Hermione shook her head, 'Like I said before, it
doesn't make any sense to me.'

'Me either,' he agreed fervently.

There was a dramatic gasp from behind Hermione and she turned, startled, to see Sirius standing in
the doorway to the sitting room, his hand on his chest as though suffering from heart failure –
though one in the midst of a coronary episode surely wouldn't be wearing such a smug smirk.
'Sorry,' he said, 'but you two look so much like some friends of mine… you're obviously not
though, because they would never admit to not understanding something.' Then he narrowed his
eyes suspiciously at Remus and said, 'How did you get in?'

Remus and Hermione both laughed, and Remus said 'We were just talking about my wand.' He
looked at Hermione. 'Did you tell him?'

'She did,' Sirius said as he made his way around the island bench to the kettle, 'all about how you
now have the power to knock Ol' Snakey down with a feather.'

'Sirius,' Hermione snorted, 'it's really not that simple.'

Sirius held the kettle under the tap, but turned to roll his eyes at her as he said, 'I know it's not, but
we can't do much about it can we?'

'I know,' Hermione said, 'but it's just best to be prepared; but then Dumbledore's confident that he
can take Riddle if it's one on one, so I guess all this doesn't really matter. '

'There is a bigger problem to deal with right now anyway,' Sirius said ominously, frowning at
Hermione in her pyjamas, 'I think never leaving the house is bad for you - pyjamas at one in the
afternoon, and when we have guests! Honestly.'

Remus gave a little stifled laugh and busied himself with the teapot as Hermione raised her
eyebrows. 'Really?' she said ironically with a meaningful look at his grubby jeans that hadn't made
it to the washer since before the dragon raid, and the wrinkled t-shirt he was wearing that had been
in crumpled ball in the corner of his bedroom a week ago – and she was sure it had still been there
this morning. At least her pyjamas were clean! 'This from the man who wasn't even awake before
lunchtime, and slept through the arrival of our guest? Honestly.' she mimicked his faux-disparaging
tone.

He shrugged and grinned, 'I'm just jealous. I've never owned flannelette pyjamas. They look too
comfy; I'd be worried I'd never want to wear clothes ever again.'

'They are quite addictive,' Hermione said gravely, then smiled, 'but I'll have to suffer the
withdrawals because I thought we might go on a little adventure this evening.'

Remus and Sirius looked at each other in surprise, 'Where are we going?' Remus asked.

'Out!' she said triumphantly. 'It would hardly be an adventure if you knew, would it?' She felt a bit
overwhelmed by the anticipation inside her; it was like she'd forgotten what it was like to be
motivated, to be useful again.

'What is it,' Sirius grumbled as he clambered to his feet for the second time that evening, 'with
Fiendfyre associated tasks and sodding steep hills in the sodding darkness?' He might have been
whining but really he was quite excited. They were on their way to see the Gaunt shack for the first
time; Hermione was right, it was an adventure. This was the place they would watch Voldemort's
soul go up in flames – definitely something to be excited about.

'Stop whinging and look where you're going then,' Remus said over his shoulder from a little further
down the track.

'We're nearly there anyway,' Hermione added, 'it's in those trees down there.'

Sirius followed her pointing hand to the dark mass of trees at the bottom of the valley, where he
could just make out the more angular lines of the dwelling amongst the twisted tree trunks. Sirius
heeded Remus's advice, and they managed to make their way to the hovel without any more major
incidents. At one point Hermione lost her footing on the slippery grass and Sirius – the helpful
chap that he was – had grabbed her in a slightly inappropriate fashion to keep her upright; he had
thought it gone unnoticed until Hermione slapped his hands away, saying, 'Concentrate, we have
an evil dark lord to destroy.' She had been laughing, but Sirius was still quite disappointed.

The place hidden in the trees drove all – well, nearly all – thoughts of groping from Sirius's brain.
The house was decidedly creepy, he thought as the three of them stood staring at the derelict
building; the mossy walls were falling apart and it almost seemed to be more tree than house on
one side. It reminded Sirius of the way Remus's security spells made his cottage look on the
outside. Hermione muttered under her breath and waved her wand in the direction of the shack;
Sirius felt the charm wash over him as she checked for life in the surrounding area.

'Okay,' she said, 'last time I came here I didn't go inside, I was going to come back that evening but
when I got back to the hotel I got the letter from you,' she looked at Sirius, 'and I thought it was
better to leave the ring alone since you agreed to help.'

'So how do you want to do this?' Remus asked. 'Do you want to go inside?'

'I don't think we need to,' Hermione said. 'I know the ring is in there, and I know there are defences
we'd risk setting off if we went in – defences that are so strong Dumbledore only just manages to
take the ring, and the injury he gets in the process kills him later on.'

'Okay,' Remus said; both he and Sirius knew that already. 'So I assume you've got some kind of
plan to tackle this?'

She smiled at him, 'I do indeed.' Sirius couldn't help noticing how different Hermione seemed
tonight; he had thought she would be in serious plan mode while they were here, but she wasn't, it
was like she was having the time of her life - all bubbling laughter and a silly grin. Maybe it was
because this was the first mission thing she had done since they went to the glen in the highlands,
and even that didn't really count… there had been the to-do at Forte de Sang but that was hardly
cheerful, and not part of the plan, so the last strictly Horcrux-destruction-related activity she had
been involved in was getting the diary from the Malfoys. Merlin, Sirius thought, no wonder she's
been so worried and bored.

He felt quite guilty when he remembered all the times he had complained about work and having
too much to do, and then even more so when he realised she was still talking and he hadn't even
been listening. 'I don't think we should touch the house, which could set off the enchantments, so I
thought the best thing to do will be to work in sections, from the ground up and then use the colour
change spell to catch any missed areas. We'll have to climb those trees that overhang to be able to
cover the roof,' she said, pointing up at the low crisscrossing branches, 'but I'm sure we can handle
that if we're cautious. I thought we should have a test run of the containment tonight, just to get an
idea of how long it will take. Because the walls are so rotten I think we'll need to be extra careful to
make sure the charms are strong enough; with all those Horcruxes inside I'm sure the fire will be a
lot more violent than the log at the glen.'

Remus nodded. 'Sounds good, shall we get started then?'

'Yes, let's,' Hermione said leading the way around the house.

Sirius was looking at the huge tree that had become one with the north side of the dwelling, its
branches snaking through the wall to reappear through the gaps in the roof. 'Um … Hermione?' he
called after her, and pointed to the tree. 'How are we going to deal with that?' Her forehead
furrowed, and then she set off towards it, climbing through the nettles that were almost covering
the smashed windows. 'And the holes in the roof?' He asked.

Remus was looking very concerned. 'That's a good point Pads.'

'Oh fuck it!' Hermione's annoyed voice came to them from where she had vanished from view in
the nettles, 'I knew I'd forget something. I suppose we'll have to patch them.'

'How will we patch them if we can't touch the building?' Sirius asked, more contemplatively than
concerned. This was the kind of project the Marauders were excellent at, even if the charmed
building in question wasn't the Slytherin quidditch team's changing room.

Hermione's face re-emerged from the nettles; the cheerfulness had evaporated from her expression.
'I don't know … I guess –'

'I know,' Remus said after a moment, and her disembodied head looked over at him hopefully, 'why
don't we use planks of wood - we could just levitate them and then permanent sticking charm them
on?'

'Brilliant, Remus!' Hermione said, as she extracted herself from the bushes with difficulty; her
ponytail had caught on one of the plants and Sirius had to restrain a grin as he watched her fumble
with her gloved fingers to try and free it. 'But where will we get suitable timber?' she said
distractedly as she gave up, took the ponytail firmly in one hand and yanked the scratchy branch
free roughly with the other, wincing as her hair parted company with it. 'I suppose we could go to a
lumber yard… but we'd have to carry them in… we could shrink them though.'

As Hermione pulled off her gloves with her teeth, unwound her hair-tie and began to plait her curls
to prevent anymore bush-related scalpings, Sirius looked at her amused. 'Where will we get
suitable timber?' he asked, gesturing to the forest around them. There was a fallen branch at his
feet; Sirius pointed his wand at it and transfigured it into a wide flat plank, then looked up at her
again. 'Some witch you are.'

'Shut up,' she muttered, her voice muffled by her mouthful of glove. She finished tying her braid
and put her gloves back on before saying snippily, 'Go on then clever-clogs, but do the window –
we'll have to cover them too.'

As Sirius lifted the newly formed slat into the air with his wand, directing it to the nearest window,
Remus wandered off into the trees - probably looking for more fallen branches, Sirius thought.
Once he had the transfigured plank lined up Sirius expanded the long shape into a wide square and
then attached it to the window frame. He turned back to Hermione, grinning. 'Piece of cake.'

'Hmm,' Hermione said, her lips twitching as a smile threatened. 'Right, get rid of it, we'll have to do
this all on the night, just in case Riddle decides to check on the ring for some reason. We don't
want there to be anything suspicious about.'

Sirius vanished the window cover and said, 'So what are we going to do about that tree?'

Hermione looked annoyed, 'What is with you and your problem-spotting tonight?'

Sirius shrugged, 'You're the one who told me to concentrate - so I am. I thought you'd be happy,
but I can always join Moony up the tree if you'd rather.' Hermione looked around surprised, and
Sirius pointed up into the tree nearest to them, where Remus was getting a better look at the roof,
and obviously not looking for fallen branches after all.

'Hi!' Remus called from his perch, grinning down at Hermione's shocked face. 'I think the patches
will work fine.'

'Okay, good,' Hermione said faintly, 'now get down before you break your neck.' She turned her
attention back to the problem of the tree in the side of the shack. 'We'll have to encase it with the
building,' she said, her eyes focused on the top most spindly branches, 'and that's going to be a real
pain.'

'I say we cut it down,' Remus interrupted, diverting his descent to clamber towards the offending
tree; the lattice of boughs was thick enough to move from tree to tree quite safely. 'Or, all the
branches that aren't inside the house, anyway.' He reached out a hand to clear himself a better view,
leaving himself hanging from one hand and his crooked knees, as he peered at the tangle of house
and tree. 'Or why don't why just transfigure it? Actually yeah, that's what we should do. Just shrink
it and then turn it into boards.'

'Good idea,' Hermione said, 'now get down!'

'You're no fun,' Remus said but he began to climb down anyway.

Hermione turned to frown at Sirius. 'Since when do wolves like climbing trees?'

'I don't think the wolf has anything to do with it,' Sirius laughed, 'that's just Moony. Maybe it's
'cause he lives in a forest … he's turning into a werechimp.'

Hermione began to laugh despite her obvious worry for Remus's safety, and then her eyes widened
as she focused just above Sirius's head; he looked up just in time to get a brief glimpse of werewolf
shoe as Remus dangled by his hands from one of the very low branches, before he let go and fell on
top of Sirius sending them both crashing to the soft mulchy forest floor.

'Werechimp,' Remus said indignantly, as he got to his feet, brushing himself off and looking down
unsympathetically at the heap of smelly rotting leaves that was Sirius, 'that'll teach you.'

Hermione's optimistic mood had faded by the time she and Sirius returned to the flat that night, and
Sirius hadn't been able figure out why. She'd seemed fine as they practiced their containment
charms on one particularly crumbly corner of wall, though it had been more difficult than expected;
they'd had to cast more layers than on the log in the glen to get proper coverage but it had worked
in the end, and they'd solved the problem of windows and the holey roof so he really didn't see
what was making her so quiet.

It had been about an hour of Hermione sitting on the couch with one of her folders open on her
knee, scribbling away and totally ignoring him. Finally he had decided that he'd had enough. He
did want to know why she was all serious when she had been so happy earlier, and if he asked her
what she was up to, it was probably dull, and could in all likelihood incite a lecture (on the
importance of the upcoming task and how there were still so many things that could go wrong, et
cetera et cetera), or worse, a scolding (on how he wasn't focused enough or worried enough) or -
who knew - he could end up trapped listening to a detailed sermon on the finer points of
Arboriculture since Remus and his tree climbing had unsettled her so badly. He figured being
actually asleep was better than just having his brain switch off while he feigned interest or was told
off, so he chose to go to bed, alone and feeling quite sorry for himself.

The Gaunt shack was burning. The ferocious flamed creatures surrounded it, clawing at the sky as
they devoured the building. Hermione watched from a distance, with the light from the fire
illuminating the whole valley, and the overcast night sky reflecting the yellow blaze on the hill
sides, throwing everything into an oddly cheerful distortion. The copse of trees surrounding the
hovel was lit bright as day, showing the branches in silhouette, thickly meshed of in a tangle of
blackened limbs... black branches crackling and crashing to the ground… something was wrong.
The trees … they shouldn't be burning too, the containment should be closing by now but the fiery
beasts were howling louder than ever. She looked at her watch; it should definitely be closing by
now. 'Sirius?' she called, looking around for him - she was sure he'd been next to her a moment
ago. 'Sirius?'

'Don't worry Hermione,' said Dumbledore serenely from beside her. Hermione looked at him; the
leaping fighting flames reflected in his half-moon spectacles made him look almost demonic. 'He
and Remus have just nipped back down to fix the gap. Some of the trees have caught; they'll be
right back.'

'They what?!' Hermione shouted at Dumbledore, 'THEY CAN'T!' She took off, running down the
slope, more sure-footed than usual in the bright firelight. By the time she had reached the edge of
the trees the blaze was raging out of control; the orange creatures had escaped their cage, not
spreading like a raging forest fire, but tearing across the valley like a pack of deadly hounds with
their eyes set on the hamlet of Little Hangleton, lured toward its promise of fuel and souls to
consume.

Hermione gave chase, running faster than she ever had in her life. There was no way to stop it now,
she thought, then there was a sinisterly jubilant howl as the flaming beasts found their prey.
Hermione sprinted into the high street; there were villagers screaming on all sides, children
writhing on the ground bawling for their mothers as the fire caught them, strangled them, burned
them alive. Hermione closed her eyes to the sight, tears of fear and guilt streaming down her
cheeks as she crouched in a panicked huddle, shaking, wishing it would go away - and then the
screams sounded more distant, and then it was quiet.

She opened her eyes. There was nothing left, nothing but black, crumbling charcoal on all sides. In
the distance the clouded sky still reflected the conflagration, glowing a sickening orange toward
the horizon – the tormenting evil animals had moved on in search of more victims. She set off once
more, pursuing the fight. Hermione could hear the cries and crackling of people being burned; she
ran. There must be a way to stop it, she thought; this was all her fault. Hermione caught up on the
outskirts of another small village. The cross-country dash had not subdued the flames; they were a
writhing ball of dragons, fierce and howling to have more bodies, more houses to feed on.

'Take Harry!' she heard a panicked voice shout, 'Lily, take Harry and run, I'll hold it off!'

Hermione dashed through the flames, her clothes burning, but she couldn't feel any pain. 'James!'
she shouted, 'James, run! Don't fight!' She reached him, but it was Harry, her grown-up Harry, his
wand flashing in the direction of the fire.

'Hermione,' he sneered at her, 'this is your fault.' He looked menacing, evil. 'Get away,' he growled,
'you're a murderer!' Harry pointed the phoenix wand at her, and a curse that felt like a battering
ram hit her in the chest, lifting her from her feet, blasting her back into the flames.

'Hermione! Hermione!' That was Sirius … he was back … so the fire didn't get him.

'Hermione, wake up!'

Her eyes snapped open. It was dark, there were arms around her - Sirius she realised, when his
sleepy voice said, 'Just a nightmare,' with his hand rubbing wide reassuring circles on her back.

Of course it was a dream, she thought with relief, they still had thirteen days until Hallowe'en. Just
a silly dream. Her breathing was shallow, and even though she knew it wasn't real, her mind
wouldn't dispel the images of burning children, of Harry casting her into the flames.

'You alright?' Sirius asked quietly.

'Yes,' she said, 'just a dream, don't worry.'

'You seemed pretty worried,' he said, sounding half asleep, 'you were calling out for me and
Remus, then James - what happened?'

'The fire,' she said, letting her eyes fall closed again, 'it spread, got everything. Spread all the way
to Godric's Hollow,' she murmured - saying it aloud made her realise the craziness of it. She was
surprised her mind would come up with something so terrifying; she might have been worried after
they returned from Little Hangleton, but it had faded, she thought. All the unexpected problems
had mounted up so quickly it had shaken her confidence, but they had worked them out; she had
amended the schedule and with all three of them doing the enchantments and transfiguring in the
extra time she had allowed there was no way the fire could get out of control.

'Like I said,' she gave a little snort at her own over reaction, 'silly dream.' She relaxed against him
as her heart returned to normal.

'Okay.' Sirius's voice implied that he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, but his hand had
slipped down from its calming pattern on her back, and was now ghosting suggestively along the
strip of skin exposed by her slightly ridden up pyjama top, giving the impression that he wasn't
remotely interested in going back to sleep.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked up at him; his eyes were closed, but in the orangey half-
light coming through the closed curtains she could see the gleam of white teeth – he was grinning.
'It will be fine' he said, 'Moony and me, we've got it down,' he dipped his head to kiss her briefly,
pulling away just enough to say, 'don't worry.'

'I know,' she said, 'I think it was just a bit overwhelming to see it, to realise how much work it's
going to be, and I really shouldn't stay up late imagining terrible things but I can't help it, I'm just
so nervous.'

'You should do something to take your mind off it then,' Sirius said, and while his tone was quite
casual his hands told an entirely different story, 'you know … like read a book,' his mouth found
hers again for a moment, 'or write a letter.' He shifted so that his warm breath puffed against her
neck. 'You could watch television, they have some inspiring medical documentaries,' he chuckled
softly in her ear before his lips latched onto the skin just below her earlobe.

Hermione's heart rate picked up again at this, though it was certainly not panic or fear that caused
the reaction. 'But you don't have a television,' she said stupidly, her voice hitching when his tongue
flicked at the sensitive skin.
'Pity…' he murmured continuing his work at her neck, hands sliding beneath her pyjamas, fingers
searching. Sirius seemed determined to make her forget the dream, or perhaps, like her, he had
realised that it was very unlikely that they would be interrupted at this hour of the night, and
wanted to take full advantage of the situation. Either way Hermione was quite grateful to her
stressed-out brain for waking them both up because the giddy distracting warmth that began to
build low in her stomach was much more rewarding than sleep.

The slow kisses and trailing hands gradually became more fervent, more greedy as months of pent-
up frustration and poor timing, bigger things to worry about, exhaustion, and just general bad
romantic luck found an outlet at last. She gave herself up to the overwhelming flashes of heat that
followed in the wake of talented fingers, lips and tongue. The sparking flashes soon intensified to a
steady thrumming rush that joyfully purged pointless things like thinking, or the ability to speak in
coherent sentences from her mind.

The vacantness in Hermione's head was a blissful energy all its own, occasionally receding just
enough to allow for minor exceptions like thinking God, do that again, and then letting her use her
failing verbal skills to make him understand. Sirius seemed to have no trouble translating her
breathy disorientated encouragement into satisfyingly accurate actions, even though the glazed
look in his eyes and the appreciative broken murmurs issuing from him suggested he too was
struggling with the same malfunctioning brain problem.

Hermione thought it was a little later on – but it really was very difficult to be sure of something as
mundane as time when it was passing so enjoyably – when her disjointed encouragement became
embarrassingly wanton agreement, as delightful bone-melting tremors radiated through her,
making her head spin and causing curious little bursts of light to appear behind her closed eyelids.
Then, through the bliss-filled haze she was faintly aware of a shuddering groan, and a moment later
Sirius collapsed on top of her, his gasping breath in her ear and the hammering of his heart
vibrating through her ribcage.

Hermione was content to let him lie there at first – even though he was squishing most of the air
out of her with his deceptively dense bodyweight – because it was really quite nice to be so close.
There was also the fact that Sirius seemed to have turned into a ridiculously heavy, human shaped
jellyfish, so she didn't think he would be capable of moving, even if she asked him to.

Just when Hermione began to feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen and had decided that the
comforting closeness of him was not worth death by asphyxiation, Sirius moved. Pushing himself
up, he planted a clumsy and slightly sweaty kiss on what she supposed was meant to be her
forehead but ended up being mostly her left eyebrow and then he rolled away. Flumping onto the
mattress beside her he sighed in contentment, and then a moment later, said in an exaggerated tone
of relief, 'Finally!'

Hermione laughed quietly as she turned her head on the pillow to look at him. 'That's not very
romantic,' she said, but she couldn't have agreed with him more, "finally" summed up her internal
feelings very well.

His eyes were closed, but a cheeky grin appeared on his lips as he turned to face her. 'Hmm … but
then … neither am I.'

'True,' she said; the pleasant soft warmth inside her caused a slow lazy smile to unfurl on her face
as she closed her eyes too. Finally indeed.
 The Final Challenge

18 th October

Waking naked with a man wrapped around you was, in reality, nowhere near as romantic as it
sounded, thought Hermione when she opened her eyes on Sunday morning. The sheets were
bunched uncomfortably between them, there was a dull ache in her shoulder where Sirius's elbow
was digging in and her hair was caught beneath his head on the pillow behind her. Why couldn't it
be like in romance novels? She grumbled inwardly as she tried to work her hair free without
straining her neck. The heroines in tales of romance always felt blissfully safe and content when
waking in their lover's arms after a night of passion; Hermione, however, felt unpleasantly sticky
and rather hungry, and needed to pee – but at least he wasn't snoring in her ear. 'Stupid Mills and
Boon,' Hermione muttered under her breath as she succeeded in untrapping her hair, 'give a girl
false expectations.'

Sirius's arm suddenly tightened around her and he mumbled, 'Are you trying to escape?' He pressed
his lips to her shoulder and said, 'Because that would be very rude.'

'I'm going to the loo,' Hermione said as she struggled against his restraining arm and fought down
the giggle that threatened, 'surely I'm allowed to get up for that.'

'I suppose,' Sirius said, releasing her, 'but come back … unless you're planning on making breakfast
that is.'

Hermione extracted herself from the tangle of limbs and bedclothes and began to search for her
pyjamas. She found the bottom half on the floor and stood to pull them on. Then turning to look at
him as she hunted for the top, she said distractedly, 'Breakfast does sound like an excellent idea –
Ah ha!' she added, pulling the flannelette shirt from under the pillow. Sirius was smirking as she
tried to put the top on; one sleeve was inside out and she caught his smug expression as she paused
to turn it right way in, and said, 'Having fun?'

'Yup,' he said with a little nod, 'boobs and breakfast, pretty much the best morning ever if you ask
me.'

Hermione rolled her eyes as she left the room, but she was smiling quite foolishly by the time she
reached the bathroom. As she went about her morning routine Hermione was quite relieved that
things still seemed the same between them. There had been a little nagging worry in the back of her
mind that she hadn't really even been aware of. A worry that suggested that once people stopped
interrupting them, and Sirius stopped falling asleep on the damn sofa, and they were finally able to
complete the act, that it would change their relationship, and Hermione was perfectly content as
they were. But she needn't have worried apparently, it had not felt awkward so far, and Sirius was
still happy to suggest food delivery and tease her, so she supposed that all was normal. Then she
frowned slightly as she realised that she had just stood topless in front of him without batting an
eye; things were not exactly the same then, because there was no way she would have done that
this time yesterday morning.

Hermione returned to the bedroom with clean teeth and feeling much more human; she climbed
back into the bed, and Sirius gave her a funny look. 'I thought you were getting breakfast?'

'You said come back or breakfast, so I'm back.' She shrugged and settled herself against the
pillows.
Sirius didn't say anything for a moment, but then he smiled, 'So, Mills and Boon is it? Even I know
what they are, thought you'd be above such trashy nonsense.'

Hermione made a mental note that no snoring meant awake and listening when it came to Sirius,
'Even my brain needs a holiday sometimes,' she said with dignity. He chuckled at her obvious
embarrassment and she added, 'It's one thing for a woman to read them, but a man? You should be
ashamed.'

'I never said I read them,' he laughed, 'but it is good to know your competition – they set an
awfully high standard.'

'That's interesting,' Hermione said, 'so you're not opposed to research on principle, just not for
anything useful.' Sirius just raised an eyebrow at her, and she couldn't help but laugh, 'Fine, a little
useful.'

He grinned at her and was quiet for a moment, then he asked somewhat reluctantly, 'So … we're
alright … er, right?'

'Right,' Hermione agreed, pleased that he seemed have had the same pointless worry that she'd had.

'Good,' he said, then changed his tone as he continued, 'you know… it's Sunday, I don't have to go
to work.'

'Really?' Hermione said innocently, 'well I'm sure there's lots that could occupy your time; I think I
remember you suggesting reading as suitable–', but her advice on leisure time was cut off when
Sirius pounced on her with his own ideas of how they should spend his day off.

Hermione was in a rather compromising position half an hour later when she heard a muffled voice
saying, 'Padfoot?'

'You really shouldn't call me that right now,' Sirius growled in her ear, 'it's very off putting – you
sound like Prongs.'

'I – I didn't,' Hermione stammered, quite incapable of understanding where the voice had come
from or why it was it was important, nothing was important – except that they should have been
doing this for the last five months.

It wasn't until they were both lying side by side some time later, and Hermione was focused solely
on regaining her breath as the dreamy haze seeped away that Sirius said abruptly, 'You didn't?'

'I didn't what?' Hermione asked thinking that she most definitely had and she was certain he'd been
well aware of it at the time.

'Call me Padfoot?' Sirius elaborated.

'Oh … right,' she said as it came back to her, 'no, I didn't.'

'Huh,' Sirius said blankly, then he leaned off the bed and snatched his jacket from the floor.
Hermione watched confused as he felt about in the pockets, but then when he extracted the little
square mirror she understood.

Sirius held it up to his face and said, 'James Potter.'

'Padfoot!,' James's voice replied almost instantly. Hermione couldn't see the refection from her
position but hastily pulled the sheets up anyway; it just seemed so wrong for Harry's dad to be
talking next to her while she was nude.

This didn't seem to bother Sirius in the slightest however, because he asked, 'Sorry mate, did you
want something?' as though it was perfectly acceptable to talk to your friend – through a visual
device – completely starkers.

'I want my bloody ears cleaned out,' James complained.

Sirius laughed, 'Dirty bastard, not like you had to listen.'

'I didn't once I realised what you were up to! Congratulations by the way – but I couldn't tell at
first.'

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning as Sirius looked over at her, a stupid smug grin on his
face. 'Want to say hi?' he asked teasingly, twitching the mirror in her direction.

'No!' she squeaked, hauling the sheet over her head to hide her embarrassment.

She heard James laughing. 'Merlin Padfoot, be a gentleman for once in your life!'

'I was, it's polite to say hello,' he said angelically, and then grunted as Hermione kicked him in the
shin. She could hear James sniggering at Sirius's muttered 'ow!', but Sirius patted her soundly on
the rump and said, 'Alright then, point taken.' Hermione peeked out from the protection of the
sheet to see him smiling much less irritatingly. 'Sorry,' he said, and he seemed to mean it so she
decided she wouldn't kick him again. Then he turned his attention back to the mirror, 'So what did
you want before your ears were violated?'

'It's a bit serious actually mate, do you think you could come round home soon?' James said, 'We
want to ask you something.'

Hermione watched as all the humour drained from Sirius's expression, slightly pink post-shag
cheeks fading to pale, and then to a sick looking grey. He swallowed nervously. 'Sure Prongs,
should I be worried?'

'No, it's pretty good really, but best let Lily explain it, she understands the ins and outs better than I
do.'

'Alright, I'll be over soon.' Sirius said with a stiff nod.

'Cheers Padfoot!' The image went blank as James deactivated the connection, and the mirror
slipped from Sirius's fingers as he let his head fall back on the pillow.

'Sirius?' Hermione asked, shuffling over to him, 'This is it, isn't it? It's sooner than I thought it
would be.'

He nodded. 'Me too, but I've been thinking about my explanation; I think I'll be believable…'

'You were very good just then,' Hermione said, resting her head against his shoulder as his arm
wound around her waist.

'I know,' he said, 'but I wasn't talking about shagging, you see James just–'

'You know what I mean,' she snorted, cutting him off.

'Yeah, sorry, just a bit nervous,' Sirius said, tilting his head down to see her face. 'Will you come
with me?'
'I don't think that would be a good idea,' Hermione said quietly.

He exhaled heavily. 'I knew you'd say that. Well I guess I should just get it over with then right?'

'Yes, you'll be just fine - remember, you are about to send Riddle to his death,' she stretched up to
kiss his cheek, 'thereby saving the world.'

He raised an eyebrow at her. 'I don't know if that was Mills and Boon or something much worse
but I feel like I've heard it a million times before - you should be more original with your
encouragement.'

'Be more original,' Hermione scoffed, 'I've never heard of anyone convincing their friend to trust a
traitor so that an old guy hiding in a garden hedge can kill the baddie with a pointy stick.'

Sirius chucked. 'Fair point. Now, since I'm off to save the world – your cliché words not mine – do
I get breakfast?'

Sirius was quite sure he was about to puke all over Lily's quaint little window boxes as he tried to
prepare himself for what was waiting on the other side of the Potters' front door. This was worse
than the moment he had realised he was about to enter the Lestrange vault; this was it, the
beginning of the final step - if Peter wasn't secret keeper everything would change.

There were hurried footsteps from inside the house and James's low voice asked, 'Who is it?'

'It's Padfoot,' Sirius replied quickly, not wanting to have his mouth open for any longer than
necessary in case his breakfast made reappearance.

'Excepting this morning,' James said, 'when was the last time I was forced to overhear your
amorous activities?'

'Poor taste, Prongs,' Sirius said grouchily, very relieved that Hermione hadn't come along with him
like he'd asked, 'and don't say it like it's a regular thing, makes us both sound dodgy.' Realising that
he still had to answer the stupid question anyway, Sirius thought for a moment. 'The only time I can
remember is the summer after we left school, just after I got my flat; we went to see that muggle
band at the pub, and you stayed at mine after. To be honest I think I regretted it more than you and
your bleeding ears did - she was terrifying,' Sirius finished with a shudder as blurry images of the
frightening night flashed though his mind, replacing the much more pleasant ones from that
morning - bloody Prongs! 'Right,' Sirius said ominously, determined to make is friend as
uncomfortable as he was himself, 'why did I arrive at your place in the winter before last to find
you sitting on the doorstep in nothing but your pants?'

James groaned and then mumbled quietly, 'Because Lily wouldn't give me my wand before she
kicked me out.'

'I meant why did she kick you out?' Sirius said, thoroughly enjoying James's dislike of the question.

'Because I paid her a compliment.'

'So you thought – answer the question properly,' Sirius demanded, glad that making James uneasy
seemed to have settled his stomach.

'Pads, she can hear me,' James hissed through the door, 'she's still not over it you know.' Suddenly
the door sprang open, and James was scowling at him, 'You got enough, you wanker.'
'Yeah well,' Sirius said with a shrug, 'now my head is filled with angry punk-pierced tits when I
should be thinking about Hermione – so you deserve it.' Then he caught sight of Lily and her
famous death glare at the other end of the hall and swallowed, 'Maybe you're right – sorry mate.'

James grinned nervously at his wife, 'So shall we get started then?'

The hard look in her eyes vanished at James's words, and Sirius felt the nausea return as he
followed James into the sitting room. Lily joined them a moment later with a tea tray and a huge
macaroon on a plate that she handed to Sirius.

'I'm worried now,' he said, eyeing the macaroon in trepidation. 'Prongs, you said this talk was about
a good thing – a macaroon of this magnitude suggests the opposite.'

'It's more of a bribe,' Lily said.

'You don't need to bribe me…' He looked at James with his best wary expression and asked, 'what
is it?' James looked at Lily and she didn't speak. Sirius was a little insulted that they were so
nervous to ask him; he wracked his brains for a normal reaction to their secretiveness. 'Prongs,' he
said, 'you're not going to ask me to cut my hair are you? I mean I'll do anything thing else but …
please, not that.'

'Merlin, that would require a year's supply of those foul things!' James laughed, flapping his hand
at the macaroon. 'No, it's not as bad as that.'

Lily found her voice as last and said, 'The thing is Sirius, it's Voldemort, he's decided the prophecy
is about Harry.'

'Fuck,' Sirius muttered, finding he didn't need to act at all as Lily said those awful words.

'Well, yes,' Lily agreed. 'But it's all right, because Dumbledore has found a way for us to be safe.'

'Really?' Sirius asked surprised, 'That's brilliant … so why do you need me?'

James and Lily looked at each other again and Sirius felt the same little stab of resentment that
they seemed so uncertain about telling him. 'It's a charm that requires hiding our whereabouts
inside a living human soul,' Lily said slowly, 'so that the only way someone can find us, is if the
owner of that soul tells them where we are.'

Sirius grinned, 'I'm guessing you'd like to rent my soul?'

They both nodded and James said, 'I know it's a lot to ask. Once it gets back to Voldemort – as
everything always seems to these days – that we're hiding with this charm, he'll start trying to find
out who our secret keeper is, but you're the only one we trust enough to do it.'

These words fell oddly on Sirius's ears, the only one they trust enough, he knew that last time round
neither he nor James had trusted Remus, but now … he was probably a better choice than Sirius, at
least on paper: well hidden house, low profile, clever and brave, not to mention being a proficient
fighter, why hadn't they asked him? 'What about Moony?' Sirius asked, before he remembered the
whole point of him being here was to get them to use Peter, and added, 'Or Wormtail? They're both
better hidden than me.'

James looked a little stung as Lily said, 'We can't use Remus because it has to be a human soul.'
Sirius grimaced, wondering if he would still have been the first choice if Remus didn't have his
furry little problem, 'And you know Peter, he'd probably have a stroke,' Lily finished with a little
half smile.
'Please Pads, for Harry?' James asked beseechingly.

His tone sent a trickle of guilt down into Sirius's stomach and he shook himself, 'Of course,' Sirius
said hastily, 'sorry, I didn't mean I wouldn't do it – I just wondered… never mind – yeah, of course
I will,' then he added shrewdly, 'Did you really think I'd say no?'

'Well, not really,' James said grinning, 'So you see? It is a good thing.'

Sirius nodded, 'Yeah, so does this mean you'll be properly safe? Like, no way to for Voldemort to
find you at all?'

'Yes,' said Lily, 'isn't it wonderful? Thank you so much for doing this - it means a lot, especially
since you'll be in danger if Voldemort discovers you're the key to finding us.'

Sirius shrugged. 'Snakey's after Hermione anyway and he's had me captured once already this
month so it's not like this will make it any worse. I guess I'll have to leave work… actually, on
second thought,' he grinned at James, 'I don't know if your lives are worth the cane bashing I'm
going to get when I tell Moody I'm going on leave.'

James sniggered, 'that's a good point, I wouldn't take it for you.'

'You bloody well should,' Sirius grumbled. 'It would be the least you could do - you've been away
since he got the evil thing, so I've been getting your share for the last six months!'

Lily was smiling at the pair of them a little disbelievingly. 'You two do realise this is quite serious
don't you? Because you're right Sirius, you will have to leave work. And it will be dangerous for
you - but I'm guessing your place is pretty well protected if Hermione is staying there?'

'Yeah, it is,' Sirius said, as a wonderful thought struck him: whether real secret keeper or decoy, he
was going to have to hide until Hallowe'en once the charm was performed – which Hermione
thought would be within the week, Saturday at the latest – and having a reason to stay in his flat
was a very appealing notion considering its other prisoner. 'You know, being stuck in the house
suddenly doesn't seem like such a bad idea,' he said, grinning.

'Yes James mentioned he got rather more than he asked for this morning.' Lily giggled. 'Well I'm
glad you won't be bored while hiding. I still need to practice the charm a bit more before I can cast
it, but if you two are happy to eat sandwiches for dinner and give Harry his bath so I can study,
then we can probably do it later tonight - I really don't want to wait.'

What!? Sirius began to panic, how was he meant to convince them to use Peter in the next few
hours? He took a deep breath; he and Hermione couldn't possibly have affected Lily's ability to
learn the charm with their time meddling. Sirius wondered for a moment where Hermione had got
the information on the timing of this event – it must have been sketchy at best, seeing as how
everyone involved in it was dead, so it was quite possible that this was exactly how it played out
last time, and he had been able to come up with and convince them of the plan within an afternoon.
But he didn't want to mention Peter right now; he'd only just been asked, and he needed to appear to
think it over before coming up with his grand bluffing scheme. With a moment of thought he asked
the next most relevant question, 'Do you have sausages, Lily?'

Lily was obviously quite taken aback at this absurdly irrelevant question. 'I think so, why?'

'Because then we don't have to have sandwiches for dinner,' Sirius said proudly. 'I can cook
sausages.'

Lily's surprised expression intensified and James laughed. 'Like how you told me you could make
stove-top hot chocolate the way muggles do, and ended up melting half your hand off?'

Sirius looked ruefully at the faded burn mark on his hand and said, 'No, Hermione showed me how
to make sausages. I cooked them for Longbottom when we were on our mission in Suffolk – he
was very impressed.'

'As long as you promise not to burn the kitchen down, sausages sound fine,' Lily said, still looking
a little shocked that Sirius could possibly understand a difficult task like sausage frying. 'I'll leave
you two to it then. Harry's upstairs; he's yours when he wakes up.'

'I take it back,' James said as he polished off his second sausage that evening, 'these are brilliant.'

'They are,' Sirius agreed. 'Shame about the potatoes though.'

James began to assemble his third sausage in bread, and paused in his careful ketchuping to say, 'I
did say you were overextending yourself.'

'How am I to know that you mash them after they're cooked?' Sirius said peevishly, stealing the
ketchup for his own plate, 'You didn't.'

'True,' James said, chewing pensively; swallowing, he added, 'there must be a better spell than
Reducto though.'

'You think?' Sirius looked over his shoulder to where the kitchen cupboards were still splattered in
raw potato chunks, 'Harry seemed to like it though.'

'Bloody kid likes anything to do with flying food.' James chuckled.

'No point in bathing him if there's nothing to wash off, that's my theory,' Sirius said with a grin.

Concentrating on their dinner both men fell silent. Sirius was focusing on his strategy to be as
convincing as possible when he brought up Pettigrew. He had decided that the best way would be
to mentally convince himself that the rat was trustworthy. James could always tell when Sirius was
lying, and if he detected doubt then this would all turn into something resembling the destroyed
carbohydrate portion of their meal.

Sirius allowed himself a brief moment of enjoyment thinking about his plan to deal with Pettigrew
after Halloween. Hermione said he hid as a rat with the Weasley family after Sirius's arrest; as a
Ministry employee, Arthur Weasley's address would be on file, files which Aurors were allowed to
look at. So whether Hermione was still here or not, Sirius would be going to visit the town of
Ottery St Catchpole sometime in November, where he would have a pleasant time merrily beating
the shit out of the traitor. Perhaps he should ask Moony and Prongs along; they could make an
outing of it, maybe have dinner at the local pub, and some drinks for afters - a meal and drinks
would go very well with some face smashing. How lovely. Sirius would of course then arrest
Pettigrew - or it might be better to call Frank out to do it, so it wasn't too obvious that an Auror had
gone to town on a detainee. Not the best image for what will surely be a very jumbled and
unorganised Ministry of Magic in the wake of Voldemort's fall. It was best to be responsible, Sirius
thought.

His anger at the rat placated with these happy imaginings, Sirius set those thoughts aside and
strategically turned his attention to the friendship he had shared with Peter over the last decade. He
remembered all the little moments of surprised pride he had felt when Peter came up with the best
escape route, or the funniest joke, or – Sirius's favourite – the four times in ten years that Peter had
told Sirius to pull his head in or to shut up. He was really surprised that Peter hadn't done it more
often, because each time it had happened Sirius had been so shocked at the stern expression – learnt
from Remus – on the normally docile face, that he had indeed pulled his head in or shut up.

'So how's the family?' James asked as he got up from the table to refill his plate with sausages from
the frying pan, 'You must be nearly done with the information gathering by now, right? Seems like
you've been at it forever.'

It really did, Sirius thought, his head still filled with Peter's admonishing face. 'Yeah, pretty close,'
he said. 'Hermione didn't go to tea this month; I didn't want to risk it with Voldemort wanting her to
help him in Europe. I mean, Cissy and Aunt Lucretia are both married to Death Eaters. So was old
lady Burke – her son and grandson followed in their father's footsteps so she's just as much of a
risk.'

James joined him at the table again, tipping four more sausages on to Sirius's plate he asked, 'Aunt
Lucretia why do I know that name?'

'She's your second cousin,' Sirius said. James really was a useless pureblood, he thought, then felt a
little sick at the implication that Sirius was a good one, but he continued anyway because he knew
it would annoy his friend. 'Grandfather and your Mum's dad's eldest brother Sirius is her
grandfather, she's my dad's sister, and she's married to the Prewett twins' uncle,' Sirius said as
confusingly as he could, enjoying the dazed look on James's face.

James blinked a few times, before muttering 'Merlin, I hate Mum's family tree.'

'Yeah, at least you don't have it on both sides. I'm just glad Grandfather Arcturus has an aversion to
the English weather; he's the biggest arsehole of the lot, but he'd rather live at Château Noir and
have Bellatrix as a house guest so all the better for us. Unfortunately his crone of a wife couldn't do
us the courtesy of a continental lifestyle because she dislikes French food as much as he hates rain;
so she's still here, and normally attends tea, she's a right nasty hag it's no wonder she and Arcturus
haven't seen each other for years, they're too much alike.

'Your family is so screwed up,' James said with a chuckle.

'They're yours too cousin,' Sirius drawled, making James laugh even more; then he grinned, feeling
ready to give it a shot. 'So this secret keeper thing, do you really think Voldy will find out you've
done it?'

'Yeah, Dumbledore thinks there's a spy in the Order,' James said, sobering quickly. 'I'm a bit
worried actually - I mean, if Voldemort figures it out, well, it will be kind of obvious that I'd
choose you.' He looked thoughtful for a moment, and mused, 'Maybe you should do it too, you're
good at charms, and I'm sure Lily would teach you. Then I could be your keeper and we'd both be
safe.'

'Don't you reckon he'd figure that out too though?' Sirius said, feeling the nervy unease return in
full measure. He'd practiced this in his head over and over, but that didn't mean it would go
according to plan; he frowned and drummed his fingers on the table as he pretended to think it
through, and said at length, 'You're right, it is obvious that it would be me.' Sirius paused, 'What if
… yeah, what if you use someone else - you know, someone he'd never think of - then he could try
and come after me but it wouldn't matter because I wouldn't be able to tell him anyway, that would
make you even more safe.' Sirius waited, trying to seem relaxed.

'A bluff, you reckon?' James said doubtfully.

'Yeah,' Sirius said nodding, 'and I'll still hide so it looks like it's me, we'll lead old Snakey on a wild
goose chase. I'm pretty sure he's been looking for Hermione anyway, ever since the Lestranges got
me, and he hasn't found her so we'll be okay at the flat; her spells are so strong even Moody
couldn't figure them out.'

James was quiet, index finger tapping unconsciously on the table top as he thought it out; finally he
said, 'That's not a bad idea Pads. But once he realised it wasn't you – if he caught you I mean – he'd
kill you in a second.'

'Yeah but…' Sirius hesitated, 'I mean, you'd still be safe, and that's the whole point, and he'd
probably just make me be a Death Eater, not kill me - family connections and all that - and then I'd
spy for Dumbledore.' In his planning, Sirius had worried how he would get them to use Peter rather
than Remus; last time around they had all thought Remus untrustworthy - James had even
mentioned something months ago - but that was one thing Hermione's presence had definitely
changed. Thankfully, the werewolf factor counted him out anyway, so Wormtail really was the
only other option. 'He'd probably go after Moony next, another dead end. I still don't think he's
knows he's a wolf,' Sirius said, 'or maybe he does, but I doubt Snakey's the type to do research on
spells of trust - well not enough to find out that it has to be a human soul - and I still get lost trying
to find Moony's place, so that will keep Voldemort busy for ages.'

'That's true,' James agreed, warming to the idea, and then he smiled; it was a smile Sirius hadn't
seen on his friends face for some time, a mischievous smirk that indicated scheming and invariably
led to fun, normally followed by detention, or in more recent years a severe and terrifying dressing
down in Moody's office. 'Ha!' James laughed, 'you know who he'd never think of?' James met his
eyes and Sirius knew instantly that his friend was about to make this a whole lot easier for him.

'Wormtail,' they said in unison.

'Wormtail what?' Lily asked, entering the kitchen with a purple-ribboned scroll in her hand. James
jumped and hastily waved his wand in the direction of the potato speckled cupboards, but Lily had
already seen. 'What were you two doing?'

'Cooking,' James said blithely, 'sorry Lil, all fixed now, here – have a sausage.' He held his plate
out to her, grinning innocently.

'So why were you talking about Peter?' Lily asked. She took one of the proffered bangers, eyed it
warily and bit into one end; after a thoughtful chew she inclined her head in Sirius's direction in
approval as James began to explain.

'Pads has come up with a brilliant plan - you know how you said this morning that it will be
obvious that we would use him?' Lily nodded, 'well what if we make it look like we have, but
actually use Pete instead?'

Lily smiled as she dipped her sausage in the ketchup and breadcrumb graveyard on James's plate
and said, 'Because Peter will have a heart attack at the very idea. I thought we agreed.'

'Yeah but, if he knows Voldemort would never come after him because he will think its Padfoot
then he'll be able to handle it,' James said, and then gave his wife a slightly stern look. 'He's not as
much of a chicken as you think Lily, he just likes to avoid trouble when he can – but when it comes
down to it he's always found the courage.'

'That's right,' Sirius said, glad he was prepared for this; if Lily didn't agree too James would never
do it, and as she was the one to cast the spell it would be up to her in the end anyway. Sirius looked
at James and said, 'Remember that time he swore at McGonagall, to distract her from the three of
us hiding in the Christmas trees? That was awesome.' It was one of two memories Sirius thought
would never be overpowered by what he knew of Peter now. The other was Peter's terrified eleven-
year-old face as he held out his blackened hands to the Astronomy Professor.

The Christmas tree episode was a similarly self-sacrificing moment, and therefore an excellent
reminder that Peter was willing to do crazy things for his friends. The week before Christmas in
fifth year the four boys had decided that the huge decorated trees in the great hall could be
improved if they reached out their branches and snared passing students on their way to meals,
holding them hostage surrounded by the festive baubles – all in the name of spreading Christmas
cheer, obviously.

The Marauders' Map was nothing more than a floor plan at that stage, so as was routine they had
been taking turns on lookout duty; during Peter's watch Professor McGonagall had sprung out of
nowhere. To try and way-lay her, Peter had spun a tale of having lost his friends, but she had
entered the hall anyway, and in his desperation to keep her attention from the mysteriously twitchy
trees Peter had said loudly, his voice echoing around the empty hall, 'Fuck it! Where the bloody
hell have they gone? The sodding arseholes!' and stormed out the doors. This had quite
successfully infuriated McGonagall, who turned on her heel and stalked off after him.
Unfortunately even after the Christmas break Peter had insisted his left ear poked out more the
right because he had been dragged by it up two flights of stairs by the irate professor.

James laughed. 'That's right, we'd've been done for without him and his foul mouth.' He shook his
head and said reminiscently, 'Those trees were quite pervy – which wasn't our intent,' he added
quickly, catching Lily's expression of accusation.

'Might not have been your intent,' Sirius snickered, 'but it was mine - seeing Snivelly getting felt up
by a tree full of gagging fairy lights? Bloody brilliant.'

'Not helping Pads,' James muttered.

'Sorry Lily, I forgot they liked you more than the other students,' Sirius said as he tilted his head at
James and Lily looked amused, 'But don't you see?' he continued, 'Peter's good for it, but it's easy
to forget; you did, and you know Peter. His reputation to everyone else for being a bit yellow will
keep him off the suspects list.'

'But what about you?' Lily asked quietly, 'You'll be in danger for no reason.'

'Um, Lily, I'll be in danger for the same reason,' Sirius said with a little grin, 'to keep you lot alive.
That's why you're doing this isn't it?'

'Yes, but.…'

Sirius looked into her worried face and quite forgot that he was deceiving them; all his prepared
words flew from his mind and instead he just said honestly, 'I'm not scared to die Lily, I'm scared
to lose, and the little family Potter dying is pretty much the biggest loss I can imagine.' James was
looking at him in a way that made Sirius feel a little self-conscious for saying such heartfelt things,
so he cleared his throat and continued, 'So if Voldemort finds me - which he won't, but if he did –
then I will tell him you're in China or something and he can spend a few weeks sorting through the
millions of people there, and you'll get a chance to make sure Pete is safe.'

'But what about Hermione?' Lily asked, 'She'll be furious that you're going to sacrifice yourself - er
… if you had to.'

What did Hermione have to do with his decision? Sirius thought, 'No she won't.' he said, 'If it was
the other way round and I had the marked kid, and I asked James to do this, what would you say?'
Lily looked thoughtful, 'Do we have Harry?'

'No, you're Hermione.'

She sighed. 'Okay I get your point - I'd say do it.'

'See,' Sirius said triumphantly, 'and besides, Hermione's been itching to have a crack at Snakey
since the bother at Forte de Sang, so she'll probably want me to do it.' He shrugged. 'The other
thing is, Hermione and I have really only been seeing each other for a month, so what makes you
think she would even be that worried about it? It's not like you two - I mean, we're just seeing how
it goes,' he finished lamely, feeling the annoying uncertainty of her future here tug at him again -
they were really getting nowhere.

Lily gave a little snort, 'I think it will go just fine, Sirius. In your world, a month basically is
marriage.'

'And anyway,' Sirius said a little abruptly, 'I'm a bit put out that you'd think I'd take the opinion of
my girlfriend over the life of my godson.' To his surprise Lily looked mildly ashamed. 'If she really
did have a problem with it, then … well, she's not girl for me. Isn't that why you asked me in the
first place, because my bravery borders on the edge of insanity?'

Lily smiled, 'Yes, that is why.' Her eyes were a little misty as she added, 'Lord, I hope Harry has
idiot friends like you lot when he grows up. I never have – it's quite frightening how much you all
…' she swallowed noisily and shook her head; James reached out and took her hand but didn't say
anything, and Lily just gave him a watery smile in thanks.

Sirius wanted to tell Lily that yes, Harry has friends like them - better friends even, ones who would
change the past to keep him safe and happy - but of course he couldn't, well, not yet anyway. 'Lily,
I would die for you too, you know,' Sirius said, in an effort to make her smile properly again,
'because if you were dead and Prongs was not… Merlin, I know I certainly couldn't look after the
broken-hearted bastard - didn't you see the potatoes?' She did smile a little.

Then James added, 'Yeah and Moony would too, because he'd be afraid of going to Azkaban for
murdering me and Padfoot, without you around to keep him sane.'

'That's true,' Lily said, having obviously regained her sense of humour, 'sometimes I think he's
come close. So where does this leave us?'

James looked into Sirius's eyes for a moment, and then he nodded, 'I think Padfoot is right.
Voldemort would never think of Pete. Sirius will make a show at the Ministry of leaving his job –'

'I won't have to put much effort in mate,' Sirius interjected, 'the whole place will hear Moody
shouting at me.'

'Exactly,' James nodded, 'and so Voldy will look for him, and Pete will be safe and sound pouring
tea and fluffing pillows for his mum, and no one will be any the wiser.'

'It seems like such a risk,' Lily said, looking between the two men, 'but then you two are the
Aurors, so I guess I should probably trust your judgement on something like this.'

'Can I get that in writing?' James asked, and then flinched when Lily pinched his arm.

'No,' she said with a chuckle, 'verbal acknowledgement only.'

'So, you ready then Pads?' James asked as he stood up from the table, 'How does a wee trip to
Kesteven sound? They have the best grass.'

'What - now?' Sirius asked. He wasn't ready to see Peter; he could barely look at the guy. 'You want
to go tonight?'

'Yeah.' James said with a shrug, 'We need to get this charm done as soon as possible. Come on, we
can run in.'

Sirius shook himself mentally, then filled his head with the redeeming memories of Peter and
smiled. 'Of course, yeah, let's go then.'

James and Sirius apparated five miles south of Peter's house in North Kesteven, and in the few
moments before James became the majestic stag he was grinning like a school boy in the open
night air. Sirius laughed despite his nerves as the stag paused only to munch on the grass – for
some reason it was his favourite in all of England – before he bounded away. Sirius drew the
feeling of transformation in and pushed it back out, and suddenly the dim evening was clearer to
his much keener eyes. It did smell good here, he thought. With a sniff at the grass, however, he
decided it wasn't for him. Looking around the quiet farmland Padfoot caught sight of a large
animal already some distance away - his friend the stag! He barked and dashed after him.

The run through the countryside and the simplicity of Padfoot's brain did wonders for Sirius's
stressed-out state. He felt the tension leave him with every pounding step. Black–and-white
recollections zoomed through his mind: a rat weaving beneath the branches of a very violent tree,
the same rat sinking it's sharp little teeth into a werewolf's ear when the black dog lost its footing
on the stairs inside the shack and found himself in a heap at the bottom with a raging wolf at his
throat, the rat chasing its tail to keep an injured Remus entertained while they waited for sunrise to
arrive after moonset. It seemed so simple, what had he even been worried about? Peter was their
friend; of course Lily and James would trust him with their lives. Now he and James would talk to
Peter and all would be set, and in two weeks' time Voldemort would be dead.

It didn't take long for the stag and dog to reach the farm house. Sirius took great pleasure in
snapping playfully at the skittish chickens that were loose on the lawn, while James had a staring
contest with the old and beleaguered goat that spent his life acting as lawn mower to the Pettigrew
household. A lowering of the stag's impressive antlers soon had the goat hastily nipping at the
grass and pretending he had never challenged the much larger creature in the first place. Once they
were human again – and the goat was looking quite miffed as he watched them from across the
yard – they moved to the front door and James knocked.

Sirius's anxiousness returned as they waited for someone to come to the door. How good would
Peter's acting be? What if Sirius did something wrong and he said no? Or worse, what if James
decided it was a bad idea after all?

'Who is it?' came Peter's voice from the other side of the door.

'It's Prongs and Padfoot, Wormtail, we've got a favour to ask,' James replied.

'Really?' Peter asked, sounding cheerful.

He should be cheerful, Sirius thought, he's about get offered the opportunity of a lifetime, then
internally reprimanded himself for deviating from his good thoughts of Peter, Sirius forced himself
to concentrate on Peter's question.

'Um, okay, in fourth year we were running from Filch after that thing with the fighting pineapples -
what made it worth it even though Filch put us in detention the next day anyway?'

James grinned at Sirius, and then leaned closer to the door, 'That was a momentous evening, we
found the hidden passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor while looking for a place to hide
from Filch and his puffed up pineapple-allergy face. Alright Pete, what's wrong with your right
ear?'

Peter gave a little titter, 'Trying to trick me Prongs? There's nothing wrong with the right one, it's
the left that pokes out. I really thought McGonagall was going to rip it off - I mean, hauling my
tubby arse up all those stairs by nothing more than my poor little ear, she's a cruel woman.' The
door opened and Peter stood there rubbing at his left ear. 'You know, sometimes I swear it still
hurts.'

'Phantom fingers you reckon, Wormtail?' Sirius said, with a tight smile and a brief clap to the
smaller man's shoulder.

'Something like that,' Peter replied, as James followed suit. 'We'll have to be quiet, Mum's asleep,'
Peter said as he led them into the sitting room, 'She had a long day – but she went out to the shops,
hasn't done that in weeks so I guess that's good.' He turned to look at them. 'It's late for a visit, has
something happened?'

Sirius couldn't help but be impressed with Peter's calm tone; he obviously didn't think Sirius and
James were suspicious of him – something Sirius certainly would have thought if he were a spy
and two of the other side had turned up unannounced late in the evening.

'Something good Pete,' James said enthusiastically, taking a seat on the crochet covered sofa. 'You
know how Voldemort has been after Harry or Frank and Alice's boy? Well, he's decided it's Harry
he wants.'

Peter's small eyes were shocked and completely confused; he stumbled into the armchair behind
him, forcing him to sit down much more heavily than usual. 'And that's a good thing …?'

'No, that's a shit thing,' James said, 'but Dumbledore has taught Lily a spell that will keep us hidden
from Voldemort, and that's better than good. That's why Pads and I are here, we need your help.'

The confusion on Peter's face increased. 'But you lot are much better at complicated spells than
me; I know I'm not the dunce I was, but that sounds pretty important. Why would you want my
help?'

'Mate,' Sirius said, 'the spell is too complicated even for Prongs – Lily's the one to do it. The thing
is, to keep them safe they need to hide their location in someone's soul; then that person would be
the only one who can tell anybody where Prongs and Lily are.'

Peter's eyebrows flew up his forehead. 'And… and you said you wanted to ask me a favour?'

James nodded, 'That's right Pete, the thing is, if Voldemort finds out that we've done this he will
start looking for the person that knows the secret, and who do you think he would guess I would
choose?'

'Padfoot,' Peter said at once.

'That's right, and I did, but then we were talking and Pads said the same – he's the obvious choice.
Voldemort will come looking for him in a second. So we thought we should use that to our
advantage, and talk to you. You've been outside all the war shit and are sort of hiding anyway, so
now you hide for real; it's not like Voldemort would notice the difference if we put you under the
charm too, so you'd be completely safe – I'll be your secret keeper. Padfoot, on the other hand, will
be the decoy.'

'You'd… you'd trust me to do that for you?' Peter asked in a very small and awed voice.

'Of course,' James said. 'You'd trust me wouldn't you?'

'Yes but… you know… you're an Auror, you're a much better fighter than me,' Peter said
hesitantly, 'I'm just a sodding nurse maid at the moment.'

'Yeah, and at the moment I'm a nanny, not an Auror,' James said, amused.

Sirius cut in. 'It's not about fighting anyway Pete,' he said reassuringly. 'The whole point is that no
one would even know it's you.'

Peter smiled at Sirius, and said, 'You seem happy tonight Padfoot, like you're back to your old self.'

Sirius grinned to hide the fact that he was annoyed at Peter for reminding him why he'd been
different towards Peter these last few months; he hadn't realised that Peter had even noticed.

James chucked, and Peter looked between them perplexed, 'What?'

'That's because he is back to his old self,' James said. 'Pads and Hermione were a little busy when I
tried to talk to him with the mirror this morning.'

Peter sniggered, getting James's meaning at once, but then looked at Sirius curiously. 'I wouldn't
have thought a girl from that family would let you shag her before you got married.'

'Let met shag her?' Sirius said indignantly. 'Merlin, that makes it sound like some kind of chore for
her!' He smirked in Peter's direction and said smugly, 'Let me tell you, that is not the case.'

'Anyway,' James piped up, '"a girl from that family?" You know she's not really a Fehr right
Wormy? She and Pads have been collecting information on the Blacks for Dumbledore.' He looked
at Sirius, 'You didn't tell him? That's not on, Padfoot.'

Sirius blanched, his careful facade cracking as James spoke. What the hell was with James and Lily
spilling the beans? Lily had told Alice too. But then Sirius realised that to an outsider his and
Hermione's deception was nothing more than reconnaissance, not something that needed to be kept
secret from trusted people; Frank and Alice were in the order, as was Wormtail, and James
obviously just thought Sirius was keeping secrets from their friends again. Sirius hastily arranged
his face in to an apologetic expression and said, 'Er … sorry Pete, I didn't want you to have to keep
the story straight if you got asked, got caught or something. I know how you like to keep out of it
as much as possible.'

Peter smiled a little regretfully, 'That's alright, sometimes I'd rather not know too much. Isn't that
what Moony says - information is power? Well, I've never much wanted power.'

James had clearly moved on from his annoyance with Sirius's deception, and was giving Peter a
funny look. 'You all right Pete? You don't have to do this secret keeper thing if you don't want to, I
just thought –'

Peter held a plump hand up to silence James. 'No,' he said. He looked and Sirius and then at James
for a long moment, and nodded. 'I'll do it.' There was steel in the small blue eyes that Sirius had
never seen before and it bothered him; he didn't think Peter was that good of an actor, but he
looked like he really wanted to keep James safe, proud to have the honour of the job and ready to
do it right. 'And you can do this charm thing for me too? So V-Voldemort won't be able to find
me?'

James's smile was wide and grateful, 'Yeah Pete, Lily will do it no sweat; oh, I think that means
she'll have to be your keeper, that's okay right?'

'Of course!' Peter laughed. 'She's so brave, she'd probably send Voldemort crying to his mum with
one of her telling offs.'

'You've got that right,' James chuckled. 'You'll be safe as houses, your mum, too.'

Peter smiled, 'Thanks for asking me, it... um… means a lot.'

Sirius felt empty as he listened to James tease Peter for saying girly things. Peter was going under
the Fidelius charm? Was it all an act to make James think he was trustworthy? Sirius didn't think
so. Stutter or no, he'd never heard Peter say Voldemort's name before, and he hadn't seen that look
of determination on his face since school. There was a bit of Sirius's brain that wanted to stand up
and cheer, but this wasn't right, it couldn't be. Had Sirius done something wrong? Had he somehow
made Peter want to stand up to Voldemort? Did this mean Voldemort wouldn't find out the Potters'
location? What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

'Will your mum be alright alone for a while?' James asked Peter. 'Lily wants to do the charm
tonight so you'll have to come to ours.'

'Yeah,' Peter said, a broad smile on his face. 'Yeah, she'll be fine. This is exciting Prongs, we'll be
safe!'

'I know,' James said grinning, 'Dumbledore is a genius.'

Sirius couldn't bring himself to speak as he watched Peter find his coat. What was going on? The
whole plan was fucked. He'd screwed up everything, months of work for nothing, because Peter
had more balls than Sirius had ever given him credit for.

'Coming with, Pads, or are you just headed straight home?' James asked, 'You don't have to come
along, we just need Lily and Pete… and I'm sure there's other ways you'd rather spend your
evening.'

Even if he thought there was still some way he could put things right by sticking with them, Sirius
didn't think he could watch Lily do the charm – especially if they expected him to act normal.
'Yeah, home...' He forced a grin onto his face, 'yeah for sure, Hermione's expecting me back. Okay,
well, good luck.'

James leered at him. 'Good luck to you too – not that you need it tonight, apparently, but you have
to tell Moody you're leaving work tomorrow.'

But Sirius barely heard him; all he could think was, this wasn't right.
 The Sausage Conundrum

30 th October

Sirius was waiting patiently - well, as patiently as was possible for a generally very impatient man
to wait. He looked at the clock balanced on the bookshelf; how could it still be eleven thirty? It
had been practically eleven thirty last time he looked and that had to be at least fifteen minutes ago.
This was why Sirius hated being organised. If he had been left to get ready for the night himself he
would be running about in a mad flap trying to find everything he needed, and not left to stew in
anxious boredom, but no – he had been Hermione'd.

Sirius's bag was packed and its contents list double checked, and he had eaten and brushed his
teeth, though he was currently removing the minty freshness by having a cigarette in rebellion.
Tonight was possibly the most important night of his life, and he was well aware of it, but that
didn't stop him feeling a little henpecked. Hermione had even given him a pocket map – not a map
to keep in his pocket, anyone could have that, but only Hermione would draw up a map of which
pockets he had to put things in. Wand: inside chest pocket. Penknife: weird side-of-knee pocket on
the muggle hiking trousers she made him wear. Rope and nails: other side-of-knee pocket. Deck of
cards (in case they were too organised and had time to spare - highly probable considering the map
situation): jacket pocket. An assortment of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes products packaged tight
and shrunk, for what purpose he wasn't sure: other jacket pocket. Sirius felt like a pack mule, but
he supposed it was better to be prepared, though what they would need nails for was beyond him,
and he could only assume there was a hammer on someone else's list, but he wasn't going to ask.
He had learnt not to question Hermione when she was in packing mode – her glare was beginning
to rival Lily's. Sirius looked at the clock again. Really!? Only three minutes? Maybe it was broken,
he thought.

Twelve days earlier, Sirius had returned to his flat in a panic following the discussion with James
and Peter; his head had been in total disarray as he tried to figure out what he could have possibly
done differently this time to make Peter brave. Sirius was so far gone along a string of theories on
the tiniest actions and their repercussions that by the time Hermione let him inside, the first thing
he said was 'Fucking sausages!'

Hermione, obviously concerned for his mental health, had steered him to the sofa and given him a
look that said quite clearly, 'Start explaining, you daft idiot.'

Sirius - who was trapped in his sudden realisation that he had changed the timeline by his ability to
cook sausages for dinner rather than the sandwiches he and James surely would have eaten the first
time around – said, 'Sausages made Peter brave, should've stuck with sandwiches.'

After many impatient questions about the evening and what on earth had led Sirius to think that
bangers and reducto'd mash had anything to do with the situation in the first place, Hermione had
managed to talk him back to sanity by pointing out that Peter had probably never intended to betray
the Potters, but had presumably traded the information to keep himself safe. Personal safety was
key, and the Fidelius charm would do that for him, so of course he would agree to it, and Sirius's
culinary skills had nothing to do with it. Sirius knew she was right, but that didn't really solve the
problem: though it made Sirius feel quite ill, he wanted Peter to betray James, they needed him to,
and as Sirius had thought that Sunday evening, it wasn't right.

Fortunately, as it turned out, it was right - Peter's brief bout of bravery, that was. His determination
to protect the Potters was well-meant, but had only been sparked by James's promise of protection -
not by changing the timeline with sausages after all - so it hadn't lasted long. It had been foiled by
Peter's lack of Charms skill and the impossible complexity of the Fidelius. When James had
promised to hide Peter, none of the men had known that the charm had to be performed by the
person who required protection. Lily had been trying without success to teach the spell to Peter for
the last two weeks – until yesterday, when Pettigrew had not shown up for his afternoon lesson. It
was worrisome news, in context, but Sirius couldn't feel anything but relieved. This must have been
how it happened last time: James offered to protect Peter, Peter tried to learn the spell but couldn't,
and ended up betraying his friends to save himself.

James had contacted Sirius on the two-way mirror to ask if he had heard from Peter, who hadn't
given the Potters any reason for not attending his lesson. Sirius played the concerned friend and
ventured from his flat in animagus disguise to check up on the rat. Mrs Pettigrew was on her way
out the door when he arrived at the North Kesteven farmhouse Thursday evening; a few minutes
later and he would have missed her. Her son was out, she'd said; a few friends of his had called by
that morning and he had gone with them, and wasn't it sweet that he'd suggested she go stay at the
neighbours rather than remaining home alone overnight. The description she gave of one of the
men could only have been Antonin Dolohov.

Sirius felt a slight stab of regret that Peter had honestly been trying to stay loyal to his school
friends; rather than seeking out Voldemort with the information to gain favour, as Hermione had
originally suggested, the betrayal had been forced upon him. But the fact remained that if it had
been Sirius as the Potter's secret keeper the first time around, and he had been caught, no amount of
torture would have extracted the Godrics Hollow address from him. He would have been killed no
doubt, but that didn't bother him, because the whole point was that a secret keeper was supposed to
be prepared to die - die to keep Lily and James safe.

Sirius stirred himself from his contemplation of what could have been if he'd not suggested the
bluff in the original timeline - something he hadn't even considered until this week. It was
depressing and unhelpful, and for the next twenty-four hours he could do without depressing and
unhelpful thoughts. Avoiding the clock and its ridiculously slow time, Sirius looked around the
sitting room: the pile of junk that Hermione had left in the corner of the room in her initial tidying
binge was still there; Sirius smiled, considering why they had not found time for cleaning over the
last fortnight, even though they were confined to the house. As Lily had said, they had not been
bored while hiding. Sirius knew that Hermione, like himself, was using the physical side of their
relationship to forget, or at least to distract herself from, the much more uncertain emotional one.

They still had no solution - well, no definite solution - on her future. Remus had been working with
Frederica on an identity for Hermione, and though Lady Fehr seemed keen to help, there was a
road block in the form of Faustus and his son Falco. Neither was aware of Frederica's involvement
with the destruction of Voldemort, and she wished to have a fully formulated and fool-proof
scheme to present them; she didn't think she could persuade the family with a plan that she was not
even sure would work at this stage. Sirius, though disinclined to admit it even to himself, was
coming to terms with the idea that he may be saying goodbye to Hermione after all.

Because of this, he was trying to enjoy his time with her as much as possible. Twenty years was a
very long time to be abstinent, and he really wasn't sure that he would be able to do it; was it really
cheating if the girl you wanted hadn't met you yet? Or was it worse than cheating to be thinking of
a girl who was only a toddler? But the point was, he would try. For Hermione it would only be a
matter of minutes, so her feelings wouldn't have changed; Sirius worried that his might - not that he
would stop missing her, or ever replace her, but that all the little irritating things about her (pocket
map!) would fade with time and in his head he would have built her up to be some perfect woman -
and he would find it hard to adjust. But for now, at least for the next day, he would tell himself that
she was staying, that Lady Fehr would sort out her end and it would be all right.
It would be all right, he told himself, disregarding yet another setback, this one related to a problem
Sirius had nearly forgotten about, the muggles who thought Hermione was a Russian spy. Moody
had said he was working on it, so Sirius had let the worry slip away amongst all the others. Then,
the Monday morning following James's search for a secret keeper, it was brought front and centre
again.

Even though Moody already knew that Sirius would be leaving work, and why, Sirius hadn't
expected the conversation to go smoothly - in fact they were supposed to cause a scene, to make
sure that word got to Voldemort that Sirius had left his job. It wasn't really necessary because
Voldemort knew Sirius wasn't the secret keeper – or he would soon enough anyway – but it was
part of James's plan. Even for Hermione's plan, it was important that Riddle believed Sirius and the
Potters thought they were one step ahead with their bluff, so that he would take his evil time and
act on the historically significant day of Hallowe'en. 'Shut the door Black,' Moody growled when
Sirius had entered his office that Monday morning.

'I will when I'm through it, old man,' Sirius said breezily. Even though he had an uncomfortable
scene of departure from the Ministry to get through, Sirius was about to have a holiday, and he was
quite looking forward to it.

'Cheeky today, are we?' the old Auror asked resignedly without looking up from the scrolls of
parchment on his desk.

Sirius closed the door. 'You know why I'm here,' he said cheerfully, enjoying the idea that he was
about to begin twelve days completely free of cane whacking, map plotting and other generally
pointless bollocks. 'They did the charm last night; I have to look like I'm preparing to hide.'

Moody spared him a glance; he no longer wore the eye patch, and Sirius found himself almost
missing it, because he'd much rather restrain laughter at the absurd pirate figure than have to deal
with the queasy feeling the displayed hollow eye socket and its bizarrely loose lid gave him. 'So
you think you can say whatever you want now, do you?' Moody said, returning his attention to the
work before him.

'Well Moody,' Sirius said expansively, dropping into one of the chairs opposite his boss's desk, and
grinning widely, 'I've got to give you something to tide you over till I come back after Hallowe'en;
I know you'll miss me.'

'I see,' Moody grumbled, 'this is your way of making me even more grateful I don't have to look at
your smarmy face for the next two weeks, is it?' He looked up and said seriously, 'How thoughtful
of you.'

'You're very welcome old chap,' Sirius said courteously, matching the serious tone.

Moody grunted, 'Right, well, we'll put on our little show in a minute - but I wanted to talk to you
about the girl first.' The amusement at their little back and forth left Sirius in a heartbeat; his nerves
mounted as Moody looked at him, and with his very grumpy face Sirius couldn't tell if he was
about to get good news or bad. Moody continued, 'I've hit a wall with the muggle business, I'm
afraid. Unless you three have figured something out, she'd best leave as soon as possible after the
thirty first. We'll all be in hot water if it gets out what we've done here. Do you have any other
plans?'

Terrible news then, Sirius thought. 'No,' he said glumly, 'nothing.' For some reason Remus insisted
they should keep the plotting with Frederica just between them. Frederica was yet to give a
definitive answer, and at that point Sirius still thought it could go either way. He sort of had his
hopes hanging on it, because if she said no their only alternate was Hermione just telling the
Ministry what had happened during Voldemort's fall, in the hope that they would look the other
way on all her criminal acts. -The end justifies the means, Hermione had said, and apparently her
Dumbledore played that card with her Ministry more than once. Personally Sirius felt that this was
a dreadful idea, because if it backfired there could be no plan B.

Moody stared at him for a moment, then asked, 'And you're not going to disappear with her so she
can't leave?'

'No,' Sirius confirmed. He'd established early on that any plan that involved Hermione
disappearing from British policy-making wasn't going to suit her at all.

Moody gave a curt nod and said, in an odd tone that Sirius suddenly realised was some form of
grouchy compassion, 'You'll be alright Black - plenty more in the sea and all that.'

Sirius looked at him, slightly shocked. 'Er … thanks, um …'

Moody cut him off with a growl. 'For Merlin's sake boy don't make this more bloody awkward than
it already is.' He gave an uncomfortable twitch and said, 'Now I'll see you at Godric's Hollow after
the fact. We'll need to get all the loose ends sorted before anyone else arrives, so I want a patronus
from you as soon as you arrive there.'

'Okay,' Sirius said. They had already been over this last week, but Sirius didn't really feel like
whinging at Moody for his constant reiteration of the timetable right now. Frederica would come
though, he told himself, and Hermione could just stay hidden while he found a solution to the
secret agent problem. Staying hidden from the muggles was probably comparatively easy.

'Now, are you ready?' Moody asked, stacking the scrolls on his desk into a pile and vanishing them
with a sweep of his wand.

'Yeah, been ready for months, haven't we?' Sirius mumbled, disliking the reminder that he had
always known she would be leaving. 'That's kind of the point.'

'No,' Moody said, standing from his chair and picking up his cane, 'I meant, are you ready for our
little show?'

Sirius couldn't help the little twinge of fear in his belly at the look of enthusiasm on Moody's
battered face; it did not bode well. 'You keep calling it a show – does that mean you're only going
to pretend to hit me with that?' Sirius asked hopefully with a nod at the walking stick in the old
Auror's hand.

'Now Black,' Moody said with his unnatural smile, 'we must make it realistic, can't have Voldemort
thinking we're onto him.' He tapped the stick experimentally against the desk top in preparation.

Sirius sighed and rose to his feet, 'What do you want me to do?' he asked, resigned to impending
proddery.

'Go out there,' Moody said, indicating the open office area with the walking stick, 'and get your
stuff from your desk, and while you do that I'm going to have some fun – just remember I only
mean half of it.'

Sirius couldn't quite bear to relive the events that had followed; extremely inventive insults echoed
around the bullpen, the tops of all the Aurors' heads darting up and down behind the cubicle
dividing walls as they tried to get a better view of Sirius being shamed, while staying out of the one
eyed glare of Moody. But Moody was far too busy poking at Sirius with his cane while the younger
Auror emptied his desk and made his way to the lifts, to notice the rubber neckers. Sirius thought
that even if Moody only meant half the words that were hurled at him, it was still very insulting.
For instance, to be called a custard-brained cowardly pillock was quite bad enough, but to then have
it followed by the suggestion that he was a self-serving nonce who couldn't win a duel against a
blind amputee Kneazle was quite detrimental to even Sirius's substantial ego.

Sirius looked at the clock again: twenty minutes to go. He heard Hermione cursing in the bathroom
- probably trying to tame her hair, Sirius grinned to himself. He tapped his hands restlessly on his
knees as he waited, his thoughts falling on the rest of his first day off work, which had improved
remarkably after this highly public embarrassment.

From the Ministry, Sirius had headed directly to Grimmauld Place to explain to his grandfather
why he would not be in contact until after Hallowe'en. Ever since he had signed Pollux's anti-
deception contract – that would surely take away everything he owned – his grandfather had gone
back to treating him as normal, in the belief that there was no way Sirius would have agreed to such
terms if he was lying. It disappointed Sirius a little that Pollux would assume material possessions
and gold would mean so much to him, or the cause so little, but it was to his advantage for now so
he would use it.

Sirius entered the library to find his grandfather poring over his ledgers - it was Monday morning
after all, and he would be off to the bank soon.

'Sirius,' Pollux said, looking up from his work, his brow creased in concern, 'what are you doing
here in the middle of the day?'

'I've temporarily resigned my job,' Sirius said, taking the seat in front of the desk. 'It's part of our
plan.'

Pollux's eyebrows went up. 'This is the plan that will culminate in two weeks?'

Sirius nodded, 'Yes Grandfather, I won't be able to visit again until afterward, so I wanted to let you
know in person. Is Mother around? I'll have to tell her too.'

'No,' Pollux said, 'she is visiting with Narcissa. I can pass the message along for you if you like;
shall I say you have gone on a holiday with Hermione? Or would you rather I leave it vague for
now?'

Sirius was surprised that Pollux would be so willing to lie for him. 'Er … vague I think, but don't
mention that it's only for two weeks, just that I'll be in touch when I can.'

'Very well,' Pollux said with a nod. 'Are you joining me at Gringotts today?' he asked, closing his
ledger and putting his quill back in the inkwell.

Sirius shook his head, 'No sorry, I have to stay out of public view until we finish the mission.'

Pollux frowned at him, and asked, 'Are you in danger?'

'Yes,' Sirius shrugged, 'but no more than usual – we're all in danger at the moment.'

'That is true enough,' Pollux sighed. 'Where is Hermione, is she safe?'

'Yes, she's at my flat - Grandfather, I needed to ask you, the contract –'

'Will be void once I see proof of your story,' Pollux said firmly cutting him off.

'Yes, I know,' Sirius said hastily, 'but that's later. The thing is, Hermione and I need to stay safely
hidden – there is a high chance Voldemort is going to be looking for me, and the contract is one of
the few places my flat's address is listed. I just wanted to make sure you are the only one with a
copy.'

'Yes, I am,' Pollux confirmed, looking worried. 'Why is the Dark Lord looking for you now?'

'It's part of the plan Grandfather; I can't tell you any more than that,' Sirius said.

Pollux rose from his chair, and eased his stiff limbs, as he gave Sirius a slightly challenging look,
'Chess then, my boy? If I'm not going to see you for two weeks I'd like to send you away with one
final loss to your name.'

Sirius rolled his eyes as he moved to the chess board, and the black pieces began to complain. 'I'm
looking forward to being able to tell you the whole story, Grandfather, you'll love it – full of
Slytherin-like deception. You'll be proud.'

'Ah,' Pollux said, 'but we only enjoy the deception of others for our own gain.'

'I feel like I have said this before, but isn't the death of Voldemort to your own gain? To
everyone's?' Sirius jabbed his wand at the little onyx soldiers to silence them; he'd had quite
enough of being insulted for one day.

'One could argue that without strict leadership the Dark Lord's followers may become even more
dangerous,' Pollux said as he sat in the leather chair closest to the marble pieces and reached out to
the decanter on its silver tray where it was perched on the edge of his desk. Then he looked at the
grandfather clock next to the door, sighed and put the whiskey back down on the tray. Sirius
chuckled and Pollux glanced at him. 'Sometimes I feel as though elevenses will never arrive,' he
said ruefully, then returning to their previous topic he asked, 'Do you have a contingency plan in
place to find and imprison the Death Eaters?'

'I have been working on one with Alastor Moody,' Sirius said; he had been doing no such thing of
course, but he could hardly say, "Hermione has a list of the places they were captured after
Voldemort's fall the first time, because she's from the future, so don't worry Granddad."

Pollux surveyed the board in front of him for a moment, his white pieces preening before his gaze
in the hope they would be given the honour of first attack; he prodded a pawn forward and asked,
'How is he to work for, Alastor Moody? I heard from Reginald Gamp that he has suffered yet
another injury – his eye this time.'

'Yes,' Sirius said, distractedly, as he too focused on creating a battle plan; the black pieces didn't
stand tall and proud like his grandfather's, but tried to look as insignificant as possible in the hope
they would not be the first sacrifice. Sirius sent a pawn out into no-man's land before looking up at
his grandfather. 'I was there when it happened - disaster of a mission, but Moody was standing
there calm as you please, giving orders with a foot long splinter right through his face; there was
eyeball juice everywhere – bloody disgusting.' Sirius shuddered.

Pollux wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'Thank you for that image, but I could have lived without it,'
he said as he sent his now free and evil bishop out onto the battlefield. 'Mr Moody is a strong
figure within the Ministry; do you think his position will change once you have killed the Dark
Lord?'

'What do you mean?' Sirius asked as his silenced, lone pawn looked up at him from the board and
then back at the bishop who had stopped only three diagonal squares away, his sinister sights set
on the edgy pawn. Sirius took pity on the soldier and shifted him forward a place, into safety.
'Well, there are several high-ranking officials who are supportive of the Dark Lord; I assume they
will be unemployed come November,' Pollux said as he considered his next move. 'Do you know if
Mr Moody has designs on a more influential post?'

'More influential than head of the Aurors?' Sirius asked, 'That's as high as he can go without joining
the Minister's office or the Wizengamot.'

Pollux shook his head. 'The head of Law Enforcement out ranks him –'

'Pfft,' Sirius flipped his hand at his grandfather, 'technically maybe – but in reality not at all. In fact
the only person that tells Moody what to do – well, the only one he listens to – is Bagnold.'

'That's interesting,' Pollux said slowly, as one of his mounted knights leapt over the pawn in front
of him to join the bishop in the sedentary attack. 'Did you know that she is considering retirement?'

'Is that what this is about?' Sirius said with a laugh, sending his own knight onto the field. 'Have
you got a pool going with your card buddies?'

'Card buddies?' Pollux said with disdain. 'We are a gentleman's club.'

'Who play cards,' Sirius said, watching as another of Pollux's pawns shifted forward.

'Well, yes,' Pollux admitted, 'but we do not "have a pool going", we are above such things. We
were just discussing the politics of it the other day. Bartemius Crouch seems to be the most likely
contender, but Gamp thought that Alastor Moody might be the stronger option – if he were to put
his name forward.'

'Moody never would,' Sirius said firmly, knowing it was the truth, 'he likes to make his own
decisions – something that wouldn't be an option if he held the post of Minister – and while Moody
might be a good choice for the times we are living in this week, remember that in a fortnight we'll
need an administrator more than anything else.'

'A good point my boy,' Pollux agreed. 'So then, with your inside knowledge, who would you put
your gold on for the next Minister of Magic?'

'No pool indeed,' Sirius chuckled.

'It's more of a gentleman's arrangement,' Pollux said in a refined voice.

'Knew it!' Sirius laughed, suddenly realising why Hermione dropped little hints about the future. It
really was just too tempting - he knew who the next Minister was, and couldn't help himself. 'To be
honest Grandfather, I'd say that Bagnold will stay on at least another year; but there is a chap, Law
Enforcement junior at the moment, Cornelius Fudge, he's quite ambitious. I'd say he might see you
through to a happy outcome.'

'Fudge?' Pollux asked. 'Never heard of him … ambitious you say?'

'Very.' Sirius said smugly, returning his attention to the chess board, where things were going
surprisingly well. Pollux had been advancing his marble army but hadn't taken any of the black
pieces yet. It felt good to be playing better than usual.

'Fudge is not an old family name,' Pollux mused, deflating Sirius's hopes for the game, as one of
the foul-mouthed rooks stomped down the board to take Sirius's knight, leaving Sirius's own rook
exposed to the conniving bishop. 'He is mixed?'
'I wouldn't know, you old bigot,' Sirius grinned, hastily moving his castle out of harm's way. 'Such
things do not matter to my broadminded intellect.'

'Insults my boy?' Pollux said sounding amused rather than annoyed, 'How dare you.'

Sirius chuckled, 'It's not an insult if it's true Granddad, don't know how many times I have to tell
you.'

Pollux was quiet for a moment planning his next move; a pawn shifted forward and he said, 'So
then, where will your broadminded intellect take you once you return to work?'

'To work I suppose,' Sirius shrugged, sending his last knight on the field in what he hoped was a
casual way - one more move and he could take the vicious white bishop. 'We'll be busy rounding
up the Death Eaters for a while.'

'I realise that, but I meant further down the track - do you plan to stay an Auror?' Pollux looked at
him, seeming concerned. 'The force will no doubt be cut down significantly when there are no
Death Eaters or Dark Lord to fight.' He nudged his queen with his wand, and she took several
graceful steps on to the battle ground.

Sirius directed his knight at the bishop and Pollux tutted under his breath. 'Are you worried about
the shame it will bring the House of Black if I'm made redundant?' Sirius asked with a smile as his
brave knight clobbered the bishop to the ground and the knight's steed promptly trampled the
remains.

'Not at all,' Pollux said. 'You must be one of their best – why would you be one to lose out?'

'I'm not one of the best,' Sirius sniggered, 'I'm a pain in the arse. I hadn't ever really thought about
doing anything else though… perhaps I'll go into magical creature rights like Hermione.'

Pollux glared at him across the board. 'Boy, please stop trying to give me a heart attack. I'm serious
– you need to think ahead. If you're a going to run this house you'll need a respectable position, I
could talk to –'

'Absolutely not, Grandfather,' Sirius said abruptly. 'If I'm doing anything it will be on my own
merit, not because you hit someone about the face with your Order of Merlin.'

'Sirius,' Pollux protested in frustration, 'why must you be so –'

'Much like you?' Sirius interjected innocently.

'Well yes,' Pollux huffed, 'it is very irritating.'

'Grandfather, if I'm to run this house you know there will be changes – I could never support half
the things you do,' Sirius said honestly, nudging his bishop on to take one of the white pawns, 'And
anyway, I thought you said it's a full-time job to be the head of the family?'

'It is for an old chap like me,' Pollux said, as his queen dismembered the onyx bishop in retribution
for her pawn. 'There's only so much time in the day, people to visit, lunches to attend...'

'Whisky to be drunk.' Sirius grinned.

Pollux nodded and said with a slight chortle, 'You see? A very busy life. But you are young and
spritely, and don't have nearly the whiskey tolerance I do. It would be good for the family image to
have our public face serving the community.'
'Well in that case, perhaps I should involve myself in charitable work,' Sirius said as sincerely as
possible, holding in a laugh at the look on Pollux's face.

Pollux's lip had curled, and his eyes were almost wary. 'Now I wouldn't go that far; there is not a
lot of gold to be had in charitable work.'

Sirius snorted, 'Yeah, because we're so short on gold.'

His grandfather went back to concentrating on the chess board, and after a few more moves –
which left Sirius with several fewer pieces and regret for being cheeky – he asked, 'What about
head of the Auror department? Is that what you would aim for if you were to stay an Auror?'

'I don't think so,' Sirius said slowly. It wasn't something he'd ever wanted; he'd never thought of
himself as a leader, more like an obnoxious and self-reliant follower. 'I'm not really cut out for a
job like that. James would though, once he returns to work. He's always wanted to lead the teams,
so I could see him taking on the department.'

Pollux nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, his father was Head Auror many years ago, took the position just
before Grindelwald was captured. He did a remarkable job assisting the Aurors on the continent
with that debacle.' He paused for a moment, looking at the game before them, and added as an
afterthought, 'Although my sister complained of never seeing him, so perhaps it would be too time-
consuming anyway, what with family business to take care of.' He looked back at the board and
said almost to himself, 'It's a shame my nephew didn't make a more respectable marriage.'

'Careful Granddad,' Sirius said warningly, 'You know I'm godfather to their son.'

'Yes,' Pollux sighed, 'and Dorea did love that girl, but then my sister seemed to have the same
defects you do, so it's not the highest recommendation of character.'

'Defects,' Sirius grumbled, but his annoyance lifted as he finally saw a way to get to Pollux's queen.

'Hers weren't as bad thank goodness,' Pollux continued. 'My father would have died if she had been
sorted into Gryffindor.'

Sirius shook his head at the fact that his grandfather obviously still wasn't over that little mishap.
'But I thought Cygnus was totally insane - didn't he put you in charge right after you got married…
at fourteen?'

'He was a little mad,' Pollux said with a chuckle. 'Black blood and fashionable opium use in his
youth in Marseille were not a good mix apparently. Thankfully Mother distracted him from such
extravagance and he returned to marry her and take over as head, until he could pass it off, at least.
My mother did hold her brother in-law Sirius in high regard – he was the eldest son of the House
after all - but he shared the same love of the poppy, and he was not interested in coming back to
England.'

'Really?' Sirius asked incredulously, he couldn't believe that the heir to The Noble House of Black
would be involved in such rubbish.

'Oh yes, why do you think Arcturus is such a bizarre fellow? Hesper and Sirius spent the early
years of their marriage in France indulging in the orient's newest offering, and Arcturus was born
during that period,' Pollux said candidly, enjoying the rehash of the little scandal. 'That's why I
ended up in charge of the family; Arcturus might not have picked up his father's habits, but he is
unfocused and prefers the trappings of the lifestyle rather than the actual work involved in being
Head. I'm much better suited to it in any case, but it still irks Melania something terrible that she
thought their marriage would be enough to bring him back from France to claim his title, but the
man would prefer to eat pastry in the sun than do his duty, so we are all better off with me in
charge.'

'Why have you never told me this before, Grandfather?'

'Well, it's hardly something we are proud of, and it wasn't appropriate for you to know of such
things before you … left us.' Sirius was surprised when his grandfather smiled as he said this, but
then realised it was because Pollux had just thwarted his scheme to have his rook pound the white
queen to dust with its crenulations. 'To be frank my boy, I was worried you would go the same
way, though I suppose opium is hardly in style anymore. The youth of today must have some new
drug of choice, I suppose?'

'I'm sure I wouldn't know Grandfather,' Sirius said, as he had a brief flashing image of himself and
his three friends passing a fat roll-up between them and giggling uncontrollably as James made his
head disappear with his invisibility cloak over and over again.

'Very good,' Pollux nodded, 'and I suppose you still have time to decide on your career; as you say
the Aurors will be very busy once Hallowe'en has passed.'

'We will be; I'm looking forward to it,' Sirius said, noticing that his King had somehow become
very nearly hemmed in, and moving his remaining bishop in to protect him. 'Just the slight hurdle
of destroying an evil bastards soul in the way first though.'

'Hmm,' Pollux murmured, taking in the inconvenient onyx bishop, 'I actually wanted to ask you -
this business with Horcruxes, you are destroying them with Fiendfyre?'

'Yes,' Sirius confirmed, happy that he seemed to have foiled Pollux's attack, 'Hermione knows how
to cast it, and my friend Remus and I have learnt containment so we're going to help her.'

'I wondered,' Pollux said as his queen swept across the board. 'Hermione and I spoke of Fiendfyre
the very first time we met. She asked me if I would be interested in helping her - did she find
someone else, then? Then he smiled and added, 'Check.'

How did he win every time? Sirius grumbled to himself, moving his king out of the queen's path.
'Yes, Dumbledore tested her skill, and they were satisfied; she didn't want to involve you if it
wasn't necessary.'

'I suppose that was wise,' his grandfather said, prodding his rook forward, 'I may not like the man,
but one cannot deny his talent. Checkmate.'

Sirius grimaced. One day he would beat his grandfather, but it was obviously not today. 'Yes,' he
said with a glance at his watch – it was nearly lunchtime, 'thank you for a sound reminder of your
skills Grandfather, but I really should be going.'

'Anytime Sirius,' Pollux said with a chuckle. 'It's my job to put you in your place.'

Sirius sighed. 'Just you wait - I'm going to be stuck in my flat for two weeks, and I plan to use the
time to practice.' Not chess, he thought, but Pollux wasn't to know that. 'I'm sure you'll hear pretty
quickly after Hallowe'en if our mission is successful, but I'll come and see you as soon as I can
afterward.'

Pollux rose from his chair and clapped a hand to Sirius's shoulder. 'I hope it is my boy, I hope it is -
but that doesn't mean you'll be able to beat me.' He paused for a moment and added, 'Be careful,
won't you? Your mother will have a fit if you go and die before she has had a chance to organise
your wedding.'

Sirius snorted. 'Yes Granddad – though to be honest, that is not the best incentive for caution I've
ever heard.'

Pollux's eyes glinted slightly in amusement and he said, 'I wasn't aware there was any incentive for
caution – takes all the fun out of life, wouldn't you agree?'

He did agree, Sirius thought as he sat on the sofa in his flat; caution was boring, but unfortunately
sometimes necessary. He looked at the clock on the bookshelf - ten minutes to midnight.

'Are you ready?'

Sirius started at the sudden sound of Hermione's voice; she was grinning nervously at him from the
hallway as she zipped up her jacket. She looked very prepared – not surprising really, it was
Hermione after all. Her hair was back in a tightly tucked-in braid, her clothes were dark and
functional, and she had swapped her usual shoulder bag for a rucksack. Sirius had one, too, sitting
beside him on the couch; when they'd laid out the piles for packing that morning, he'd been happy
to learn that Hermione had allocated him food-carrying duty, while she was carrying the
Horcruxes, a tent, a change of clothes for both of them, and – he'd been amused and not at all
surprised to find – several reference books.

'I am,' he said, his voice a little hoarse – from lack of use, obviously, not nerves. They were only
off to save the world, so no pressure. Sirius grinned at her, 'Are you?'

She nodded, 'Only for the last three years! Come on, we might as well go; Remus will probably be
early and I wouldn't want to wait in that creepy place all by myself.'
 Hallowe'en

31 October

Sergeant Paul Clarke glanced at the luminous numbers on the dashboard clock – 00:06 – and
confirmed on his watch: six minutes past midnight. The team that was coming to replace his three
men – who by that point were slouched in the back of the van looking very worn after twelve hours
of watch duty – was late. Paul himself had replaced the commanding officer seven hours ago and
was still alert, not to mention feeling quite sorry for the flagging boys in the back. Even a cup of
thermos tea and some biscuits hadn't cheered them up, but Paul supposed it was hard to be excited
about a mission as tedious as this one.

They had been in the little village for thirty six hours, shifts changing every twelve – but that was
the only thing that changed. The sleepy village was beyond normal, and the only reason they were
here at all was because the supposedly-clever chaps at MI5 thought that something was going to
happen. Paul knew that military intelligence had been watching a group of probable KGB agents
for the last four months, and that they had pieced together enough information to know that there
was going to be a co-ordinated bombing and assassination attempt around Halloween.

Paul smiled a little smugly to himself at the rumours that had leaked out about a "little slip of girl"
escaping from the middle of intelligence headquarters while under guard - not that he sympathised
with the spy of course, but he was not overly fond of the boys at five, and anything that made them
look foolish was alright by him. They could be very interfering when it came to proper
assignments; Paul had spent time in Aden back in '71 and was very used to real war, not this
listening in on staticy conversations and taking long lens photographs nonsense. Get your
instructions, find the enemy and capture or kill him depending on circumstance: that was how a
war should be fought. Information had its place of course – for instance they knew that they were
after only men now that the girl was safely out of the picture - but for all the listening that had been
done on the little group of spies they only had a verbal description of Ogden, and nothing at all of
Moony, or the code named Dumbledore. But it was enough; they sat here, parked on the curb of a
residential street in this peaceful and unlikely village and watch for suspicious behaviour.

From the outside, their van just looked like your average tradesman's van, because they didn't want
their presence here known. Inside would have been slightly more alarming to the usual village
resident: four soldiers, who might be bored but were still ready, with weapons in arms-reach, all
highly trained and excellent shots . Paul thought it was quite a waste to have such troops attending
to a situation like this, but then if it turned out to be a significant attack, Paul would happily admit
he was wrong. In these troubled times you didn't know if your next door neighbour was an enemy,
so when handed reasonably concrete evidence that people were going to be hurt, he'd definitely
rather sit in a van all night if it meant they could prevent it. Hopefully they - or one of the other
two four -man teams posted about the village - would spot the disturbance and be able to stop it
before it got out of hand.

'Clarke, come in,' squawked the walkie-talkie at Paul's hip through the peaceful silence.

Paul lifted it to his mouth and said, 'This is Clarke, go ahead.'

'Delay with vehicle. E.T.A. five minutes.'

'Copy that,' Paul replied, and stowed the radio in its holder. He turned to look at the tired men in
the transport section of the van. 'You hear that boys? You'll be home in bed before one.'
All three gave smiles, and Jones said with a yawn, 'You know what? I sat in a ditch in Oman for
thirty hours and I swear I was less exhausted than this.'

Paul grinned at him, knowing exactly how he felt. 'It's the lack of return fire – nothing like a few
rounds going off above your head to keep you on your toes.'

Jones nodded. 'I think you might be right - but as boring as this is, at least we get tea. You should
see the swill they tried to pass off as English Breakfast over there, tasted like dishwater.' The other
men laughed, spirits lifting at the idea of finally being free from this monotonous mission - well,
for twelve hours anyway.

'I remember it well,' Paul said, 'I was there for six months – you're right, I've got to say that was the
only good thing about Ulster, at least they can do a decent brew.' There was a knock on the driver's
window and Paul looked to see the driver had arrived.

'Right men,' he said, your chauffeur is here, 'I'll see you at seventeen hundred tomorrow if we
haven't had any luck with this bombing thing by then.'

'Night Sarge,' they all said as Paul stepped from the van and nodded to the driver. It was quite
chilly out that night, and there was a decent wind blowing, he quickened his pace to the
replacement troop's van that had pulled in behind them.

'Evening lads,' Paul said pulling open the driver's door.

'Evening Clarke,' the three men chorused.

'Anything interesting happen while we were gone?' Mitchell asked. Paul knew Private Mitchell
quite well; they had been on a number of postings together over the last ten years. He was a good
lad, very quick on his feet - it was probably quite easy to be fast when you were only five foot six.
Paul liked to blame his slightly slower pace on his own six foot height by saying there was more of
him to lug around, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was much closer to forty than
he would have liked.

'Not at all,' Paul said, swinging himself in to the front seat and shutting the door, 'though we did
have some biscuits; that was probably the highlight.' The three men chuckled. They were all very
relaxed, legs stretched out as they reclined against the hard interior wall of the van. Their guns
resting at their sides and Williams had his beret in his lap as he scratched his head.

All these men had been briefed and knew that the thirty-first was the danger day, but as they were
only ten minutes into it, it seemed unlikely that they would be facing any hostile activity in the
immediate future. Terrorists liked to do as much damage to people and property as they could, and
liked to have a decent number of witnesses; both of these factors made Paul think it was very odd
to choose this little country village as a backdrop for a bombing, let alone an assassination.
Through the mirrored windows of the van he could see the dark street they were parked in, with a
few houses and a couple of little shops at the end of the lane; Paul thought it was a nice little
village, albeit very dull - and an extremely improbable location for international espionage.

Hermione and Sirius popped into existence halfway down the old river valley on the outskirts of
Little Hangleton. There was a whistle in the distance, down by the densely packed trees, and
Hermione caught sight of movement - apparently Remus was early. It had only just gone midnight;
Halloween had begun.

She shivered slightly as a cold wind blew through the valley. Sirius held tightly to her hand as they
made their way down the slope; every time she glanced at him she would catch a glimpse of white
teeth, as he was grinning broadly. She could almost feel the excitement radiating off him - this was
it, they had reached the final event. Hermione understood why he was in such good spirits. Even
with the uncertainty that Peter's supposed bravery had caused them earlier in the week, that was
over now, and there was nothing left to stand in their way. Hermione couldn't quite believe they'd
made it; she had pushed her decision on her future here aside for the time being, because she just
wanted to enjoy the fact that in a little over seventeen hours Voldemort's soul would be burning
and the evil man himself would be meeting his death in Godric's Hollow.

Remus had his wand pointing at them when they finally reached the bottom of the valley. Sirius
chuckled, 'Really Moony?' but raised his own wand in response.

'Yes, really,' Remus said impatiently. 'What was your objection to my furry little problem?'

Sirius sighed, 'I'm assuming you mean the first one?'

'Yes, when you confronted me and I told you the truth – what did you say?' Remus asked.

'I think it was something like "are you telling me you get to have two days off classes every month
no questions asked?"'

Remus nodded. 'I did point out that it was a redundant statement since you and James had been
asking me endless bloody questions for the last six months.'

'Well, we thought you were in a cult or something,' Sirius insisted. 'Honestly Moony, the things we
came up with!'

'I remember,' Remus said with a twisted smile. 'My favourite was that I was running an illegal
cardigan importation ring.'

Hermione laughed and Sirius said, 'Yeah well, we were twelve and it seemed more likely than that
our friend was a sodding werewolf - all the evidence pointed to smuggled knitwear!' He looked at
Remus and said suspiciously, 'You did have a lot of cardigans; no one needs that many – or any at
all really.'

Remus just shared a look with Hermione that said Ten years I've put up with this! This made her
laugh even more.

'Alright then,' Sirius said, 'third year, why did you and Prongs spend the night on the battlements of
the astronomy tower?'

'Because you're a selfish git,' Remus said at once.

'Wrong!' Sirius said, but he lowered his wand with a grin and walked closer to his friend. 'I was
making sure we had an alibi.'

'You were not, you were in bed!' Remus said, his own wand falling to his side. 'Prongs called you
on his mirror and you wouldn't come and get us because you didn't want to get up.'

Sirius shrugged 'Yeah well, it was cold.'

'How do you think we felt?' Remus asked incredulously.

'Er … colder?' Sirius said. 'Come on, it was after curfew – if I'd been caught coming to unlock the
door then we all would have been in trouble, and you know Peeves would have been waiting for
someone to come and help you after he locked you up there.'

'What were you doing up there in the first place?' Hermione asked, trying to remind them that she
was there at all, and despite the fact that they really should be getting ready to destroy Riddle's soul
instead of having an argument about locked doors from years ago, she really wanted to know.

'It was meant to be Pads with Prongs' Remus said, 'but he went and got himself a detention for
making this girl's cat nearly eat Flitwick, so I had to stand in.' He shook his head and chuckled,
'Prongs had this mad idea about giving a telescope extra powers so we could use it to see through
walls and stuff, so we could sneak around, know if anyone was coming or whatever, and he'd
broken all of ours in the process. So he decided to pinch one from the astronomy classroom;
unfortunately Peeves had been in there and we'd hidden out the tower door to wait for him to leave
but the scamming blighter had seen us and locked us out.'

'Good grief,' Hermione said in disbelief. At least every time she and her friends had gotten into
trouble it had been for a better cause than trying to break the rules more efficiently. Sirius and
Remus were both laughing by this point; the two men had sat down on a log and Sirius was
shaking his head as Remus continued to reprimand him for laziness that had occurred nearly a
decade ago.

As nice as it was to see them in such good spirits they had a very busy evening ahead of them;
Hermione cleared her throat and they didn't seem to hear her. If they were going to be children,
then she would treat them accordingly; she pulled out her timetable and said sternly, 'All right,
listen up you two.'

Sirius looked up at her. 'Yes Miss,' he said and they both sniggered quietly under their breath, but
gave her their attention.

Hermione frowned at the pair of them, 'First we are going to collect the wood for the parts that
need covering, then we'll deal with the tree,' she pointed to the north side of the house with its
maple tree wall, 'then patch up the holes. Sirius you have the nails don't you?'

'Yes,' he said patting his knee pocket, 'but I thought we were sticking-charming the patches on?'

'We are, but I want a nail in each just in case; we really don't know how it's all going to react.'
Sirius and Remus had sobered by that point and both nodded as she went on, 'So once the frame is
completely prepped then we'll have a little rest and a bite to eat. That should be around two-thirty,
leaving us nine hours with all three of us doing the charms, and then, Remus, you'll go to Godric's
Hollow, and Sirius and I will finish off here.' She looked at them, expectantly, 'Any questions?'

Remus put up his hand. Though he wore a serious expression, Hermione couldn't help but giggle
just a little bit and play along. 'Yes Mr Lupin?'

'When are we putting the Horcruxes inside the house?'

'You will be actually,' Hermione answered. 'before we close the roof. You can drop them in when
you're up in the trees – how's that?'

'Good.' Remus grinned.

Sirius jumped to his feet, obviously having had used up his quota of "still" for the evening already.
'Come on then, wood collection!' He shoved Remus hard in the shoulder and the werewolf
stumbled as Sirius took off into the forest, his lit wand sending weird wavering light across the tree
trunks. Remus laughed and shot after him.
Hermione followed at a more sedate pace, thinking that destroying someone's soul really shouldn't
make them so happy; but then she felt the same way, full of nervous energy, she just didn't show it
by haring about the dark forest competing – as the two men now were – to collect the most wood.

Hermione wasn't needed in scouring the forest for fallen branches, so she sat herself at the drop-off
point. Sirius had taken to his animagus form in an effort to beat Remus in the spur of the moment
game and it entertained Hermione greatly to see him trotting out of the darkness with a long branch
clamped in his teeth. Every time, he would drop it at her feet, yip proudly and then try to lick her
face before darting off again. Remus soon realised that he wasn't really needed either so he sat
beside Hermione and started to help her with the transfiguration from branch to flat and serviceable
plank. In a little over half an hour they had enough and Sirius – human again but still panting in a
very dog-like way – was sprawled on the leaf strewn ground grumbling that Remus could have told
him they'd stopped playing.

Hermione ended up taking on a supervisory role once again when it came to patching up the house.
She did a fair bit of work on the lower regions, but as the worst structural damage was either on the
roof or high on the walls, they decided to finish it from above. It made her feel quite woozy to
watch as both Sirius and Remus crawled about in the thick lattice with seemingly no qualms about
falling to their deaths. She did however deal with the large maple that had grown through the side
of the shack, shrinking it down as Remus had suggested and transfiguring it into one very wide
piece of timber that filled the gap left by the tree.

They were so efficient that by two o'clock Remus was calling, 'Hermione, I'm putting them in
now!' and she looked over to see the small leather bag fall from his hand and down though the last
uncovered portion of roof. It landed with a dull thud and she smiled. Then she levitated the last
board up to Sirius, who sent it floating into place and transfigured it to fit; two nails from his
pocket followed, and balanced themselves on their pointed end, and he drove them home with jet
of light from his wand.

'Brilliant!' Hermione called, giving the pair of them a round of applause; they both laughed and
bowed - with difficulty considering their position half-entangled in branches. 'Okay, come down
and we'll have a cuppa before we start the charms,' Hermione said. She caught Sirius's uplit
expression as they began to move back towards the trunk; he looked quite evil in the ghostly light.

'Race ya, Moony!' he said, scrambling along the branch.

'Sure,' Remus called back; though he was much further from the way down, he sounded very
confident, and a second later Hermione knew why. He twisted sharply and vanished, appearing
with a pop at Hermione's side. 'Cup of tea then?' he said casually.

Hermione burst out laughing, she wondered sometimes if she would miss Remus and his surprising
sense of humour just as much as Sirius if she had to leave. Sirius joined them not long after,
claiming a victory of honour over dirty cheating werewolf tactics. Hermione pointed out it was
more wizarding convenience than anything else, and he sulked until she produced their rations for
the evening and made him a cup of tea.

They had set up a makeshift campsite. The little tent from Hermione's bag was pitched off to one
side and a jar brimming with bright blue flames gave them enough light to make tea and sort out
the food by. They even played a couple of hands of poker in an effort to calm their nerves and
fidgety excitement, which Hermione was surprised to see was even affecting the usually calm
Remus. They needed to be focused when they began the next part of their task, so the more relaxed
they were the better, Hermione thought. They were still running ahead of schedule when Hermione
stood up and said, 'Shall we do it then?'
The Gaunt Shack was now made of a patchwork of overlapping flat boards, and looked nothing
like a house at all, and was imposingly large compared to their only other test vehicle, the log
they'd charmed in the glen months ago. The concentration involved in casting the containment
meant that the previous cheerful atmosphere dissolved as they worked, squatting amongst the
undergrowth in silence, magicking layer after layer of spell over the walls. Some time later the sun
came up, and heavy clouds rolled in an hour or so later. After eight hours of the repetitive work,
Hermione thought her hand was going to be performing the wand movement for the rest of her life
– she barely had to think about it, it just seemed to do it over and over again. But they were still
running early so it was probably worth the repetitive strain injury.

Sirius and Remus were up in the trees again finishing the roof, and Hermione decided it was time
to check for gaps. They'd scrapped the plan to start from the bottom and go up, choosing instead to
do a wall at a time, leaving one for last that would have the gap to cast the Fiendfyre through; at
this point they still had one whole wall to go, but Hermione wanted to make sure they were doing
enough before Remus left in case they had to go over the whole lot again.

She sent her orange colour spell at the house and was amazed - it didn't seep through at all, it just
sat, hovering on the protective charm. It hit her then how lucky she was to have two such talented
wizards to help her with this; their work on the roof was just as good as hers on the walls. She
breathed a sigh of relief - they were nearly there.

With another hour's casting, only half the last wall remained and they took a break for another cup
of tea, before it was time for Remus to leave for Godric's Hollow. Sirius and Remus were both
munching on scones that Lily had sent over to the flat with Remus earlier in the week.

'Okay,' Remus said after he'd swallowed his last mouthful of tea, 'I better get going, his face was
pale and set, and Hermione thought he looked a little ill.

'Are you going to be all right, Remus?' she asked as he stood up and brushed the scone crumbs
from his lap.

'Yes,' he said, with a hasty grin; he must have realised that Hermione could tell he was worried. 'I
just need to get all my nervous faces out now so I can sit in James's sitting room and be normal.' He
made a series of ridiculous contorted expressions and Hermione and Sirius both laughed.

'Okay then, good luck,' she said. 'Remember, patronus to us as soon as Dumbledore gets to the
house. Lily and James are going to have a lot of questions and I want to be there to make sure
Dumbledore tells them the truth. You know what he can be like.'

'I do,' Remus nodded, swinging his bag over his shoulder. 'Now you two, stay focused,' he said
sternly, 'we don't want to get off schedule because you had to have a shag in the bushes.' He was
obviously trying very hard to keep a straight face, but it cracked at Hermione's expression.

Hermione was a little offended that Remus would even suggest such a thing, but Sirius was
laughing so hard next to her, gasping for breath and slipping from his perch on the log onto the
forest floor, that she couldn't help but smile. She looked at Remus 'You know I would never – '

'That wasn't a warning for you,' Remus chuckled, interrupting her.

Then as if to prove the point, Sirius wheezed, 'I've only been thinking about it all bloody night.'

Hermione and Remus both started to laugh in earnest, more at the sight of him clutching his sides
in hysterics, rocking back and forth helplessly, than at anything Remus had said to set him off.
Remus reached out and flicked him on the ear, causing Sirius to give a hiccoughing yelp. 'I'll see
you in about six hours then,' Remus said.

Hermione stood and hugged him and he returned it tightly. 'Good luck,' she said.

Remus pulled back a little and said 'What for? I'm just going to a friend's place to have a cuppa.'

Hermione smiled, 'Yes I know, still good luck.'

'I'm right here you know,' Sirius said from behind them, recovered from his mirth attack and
obviously not appreciating having to watch Hermione with her arms around another man.

'Turn around then,' Hermione said over her shoulder before she stretched up to kiss Remus on the
cheek. 'Thank you so much,' she said as he blushed, 'we really couldn't have done this without you.'

'No problem,' he said gruffly, trying to wriggle away from her, 'now let go before Pads kills me.'
Hermione smiled at him; she was tempted to keep him there because he looked so uncomfortable
but withdrew her arms instead. He really didn't need more things to worry about right now. Remus
strode over to where Sirius was still sitting on the forest floor and held out a hand to help him up.
When Sirius took it, Remus yanked him up into a quick embrace, then let him go and said, 'There,
nothing to worry about – apparently I hug people voluntarily now.'

Sirius chuckled, 'Don't I get a kiss?'

'Sorry mate,' Remus laughed, and reached out a hand to pat him on the shoulder, 'maybe next time.'

Sirius shoved him away, still grinning. 'Away with you then, we'll see you soon – and remember,
shield charm before Lily finds out what we did!'

Remus grinned too. 'Got it,' he said with a nod, and then he turned on the spot and was gone.

Sirius looked questioningly over at Hermione, and she knew the sly little grin on his face at once.
'Absolutely not,' she said firmly. 'Now come on, we've just got this side left to do.' Sirius looked
very disappointed but he followed her back through the trees without complaint.

Remus was quite proud of his natural-seeming casual behaviour in the Potter's presence so far that
afternoon. James had given him a couple of odd looks when a sudden noise would make Remus
turn quickly to discover its source, but fortunately tended to chalk the jumpiness up to Remus's
usual paranoid personality, rather than figuring out that a murderous bastard was on his way to do
them in. The time had passed surprisingly quickly. Remus had expected the wait for said
murderous bastard to drag, but then he supposed that things you didn't want to happen always
seemed to approach awfully quickly, so maybe he shouldn't actually be surprised at all.

He had seen James and Lily quite a lot during the last two weeks because Lily had asked for
Remus's help in teaching the Fidelius charm to Peter. This wasn't for Remus's excellence in charms
- though he was quite good - but because while Lily was very clever, she was not the most patient
of tutors. Remus had been afraid that his presence would change the course of events, since last
time Lily most certainly wouldn't have asked for his teaching skills when they all thought him a
traitorous werewolf, but he needn't have worried; the charm was complex, and even he struggled
with the effort it took to make it work - Peter hadn't stood a chance.

'Are you staying for dinner, Remus?' Lily called from the kitchen.

James nodded and said with a smile, 'You have to, Moony - Harry will be gutted if you take away
his new favourite toy.' He and Remus were sitting on the couch with the small form of Harry
squished between them. They had kept the not quite year-and-a-half- year-old entertained for over
half an hour with a demonstration of how to shuffle Remus's deck of cards. Harry did seem to like
the cards very much; not for shuffling so much as for throwing, or - more likely, Remus thought -
for the fun of seeing every thrown card come zooming back toward them with a flick from either
James's or Remus's wand, and trying to catch it before one of the men could.

'Thanks Lily,' Remus called back, knowing that it was unlikely they would actually be sitting down
for a relaxed meal with Voldemort dead in the road outside, and Sirius and Hermione arriving to
tell Lily and James that they had been bait in the whole elaborate scheme. Remus was not looking
forward to that conversation. He'd been practicing shield charms with his new wand ever since he
got it because he was quite sure that he and Sirius would bear the brunt of Lily's rage, and
castration was not high on his list of things he wanted to achieve in his life. James was a big-picture
kind of bloke, so Remus hoped that he might understand; that his son had been put at risk might
make him think twice, but Remus suspected that ultimately James would just want to know how
they'd managed it – and would probably be excited to have a dead Voldemort lying in his street.

The thing that played on Remus's mind the most that afternoon was the conversation he had
overheard between Dumbledore and Moody. He had not mentioned it to Hermione or Sirius for
fear that he had misunderstood what was being said and it would cause his friends to panic
unnecessarily, but he felt incredibly guilty for keeping it from them. It was one of the reasons he
didn't want Dumbledore knowing about Frederica's arrangements; if the old wizard did indeed tell
Hermione she had to leave when they met this evening, Remus wanted to have a plan to spring on
Dumbledore so that he would be taken by surprise and not be able to veto it.

The other reason he didn't want Dumbledore involved was that ever since Remus and stolen
Hermione's Timeturner – which thankfully he'd been able to put back while trapped in Sirius's flat
the morning he a gotten his new wand – Remus had been uncomfortable around the Headmaster.
He worried what Dumbledore would ask of him next, and that he seemed unfazed about Remus's
objections to stealing from his friends, and that he assumed because Remus felt he owed the man
for his education and subsequent worthwhile life, that Remus would do whatever was asked. The
worst part about it being that it was entirely true – he would do whatever Dumbledore asked of
him.

'You'd better not be teaching him to gamble,' Lily's said, interrupting Remus's dreary thoughts. She
had entered the sitting room with a wet facecloth in one hand and a pair of small blue pyjamas in
the other. She tossed the pyjamas into Remus's lap and the facecloth to James; it hit him square in
the face with a sodden splat. She smirked as Harry giggled and she said, 'Because really, you're
terrible at cards; I'd much rather he learnt from Sirius.' James gave her a disgruntled look and she
said, 'Harry can skip his bath tonight, I don't want to deal with squeals so you two can sort him out.'

James began to wipe Harry's face and fingers with the cloth and muttered in mock annoyance, 'Isn't
your mum lazy?'

Lily laughed, 'I am today. I've just put the stew on, it will be ready in an hour. If you need me I'll
be reading upstairs til then.'

'We don't need her do we son?' James asked Harry who was squirming under his father's
ministrations as Lily left the room smiling to herself. 'Except for the food,' James added as he
stripped off Harry's jumper. 'I don't think Padfoot would come and cook us sausages every night.'

By the time Harry was wiped down and dressed for bed Remus was feeling considerably more
nervous. It had started to rain, and it was hard to see down the road clearly. He assumed
Dumbledore was out there somewhere hidden under the cloak; hopefully the Headmaster was
entertaining himself somehow, as squatting in a stranger's bushes would surely be rather
uninspiring after a while. The overcast sky was quite dark already, though there was a backlit
section of clouds off to the west that told him the sun was only just beginning to set. It wouldn't be
much longer now, Remus thought, and then he nearly hit the ceiling as he jumped in fright when
there was a loud whining screech from outside. A sporty-looking red car hurtled past the front gate
in the direction of the village and Remus took a few breaths to calm himself.

James laughed from behind him, 'I'm glad I'm not the only one! That wanker moved in at the end
of the street about a month ago and I'm still not used to his contraption and its racket, scares the
shit out of me every time. Idiot should try a broom, twice as fast and silent. Much more fun.'

'Huh, yeah,' Remus said, still a little in shock from the unexpected disturbance, 'and they can fly.'

'Exactly,' James agreed, Remus turned to see him sitting on the sofa with Harry on his knee. He
waved his wand and muttered, saying 'Green!' as green smoke puffed out the tip of his wand.
Harry clapped his chubby hands together making the smoke disperse and James repeated the spell,
'Red!' he said as red smoke appeared. Harry seemed far more interested in trying to catch the
smoke than learning colours. This was one of the games Lily insisted James play with their son -
she was determined her boy would be some kind of genius, though Remus wondered how much the
little boy could learn when James tended to get bored of the normal colours and start producing
ones like vermillion and azure.

Remus smiled as he watched the father and son, glad that the game involved James having his
wand in his hand. That was Remus's role here after all, to make sure they were ready, just in case.
He wondered if Peter had escaped from the Death Eaters in his animagus form yet; he hoped that
he had, and was hiding on schedule. Remus was not a violent person by nature but Sirius had
mentioned going to find Peter after Hallowe'en and Remus was very much looking forward to the
confrontation. It didn't matter that Peter had tried to be loyal; in Remus's opinion being loyal was
not something you gave your best go at – you either were because it was right, or you weren't
because it was easy. He also wondered where Voldemort was now... probably getting in a spot of
torture practice on some less-faithful supporters to pass the time until he set out for Godric's
Hollow, and his death.

Lord Voldemort examined the brooch in the failing afternoon light. It would be the final piece, and
what a piece it was: goblin-wrought silver, said to be close to a millennium old, ancient, fine and
beautiful, and in mere hours it would be even more so. Although he had felt at times that he would
never reach his goal, it was now a reality. Lord Voldemort understood the value of patience. He
knew what could be gained if you were to wait for the right moment, the point in time that would
turn your act from the mildly-gratifying murder of a child and termination of the irksome
prophesy, into the most remembered event in wizarding history – the moment in time Lord
Voldemort became infallible, his soul a locked and permanent part of the mysticism of the
universe. There was almost poetry in mind as he thought of the significance, the wonder this
evening would hold. It was not often that Lord Voldemort described his inner feelings as sanguine,
but this afternoon had been the exception. The final hurdle was so close and nearly surmounted.

His spy's attempt at double-dealing had cracked so easily that Voldemort was almost disappointed -
he did enjoy a challenge and Pettigrew certainly wasn't that. He had been briefly disheartened to
learn that the key to the boy was not Black; he wished very much to finish what he started there,
but this task was not about personal fulfilment and the outcome was the same, the spy had folded
and he knew where to find them now. Black could be dealt with soon, Black and the Fehr girl, his
oddly insignificant enemies; for all that Black had taunted him, for all that he swore to never join
and that she wouldn't either, they were quietly faded to the background. Fehr had vanished off the
face of the earth for all Voldemort could tell; none of his followers had made any headway on her,
and so Voldemort would wait - because after tonight they would fall, all of his enemies, for he was
about to conquer the only one who had the power to vanquish him.

He tucked the brooch away in the inside pocket of his robes. How would he spend his remaining
hour, the last hour before he was unstoppable, the most infamous wizard in Britain, and soon the
world? Sunset on ancient feast of All Hallows Eve seemed a very fitting time to achieve his goal,
and so he would wait. He thought it was his duty to make this event into something dramatic and
historical, because when it was recorded and the story told to wizarding children for generations to
come, they deserved to have an exciting and poignant tale of the point in time their world was
saved, and their heritage preserved. Truly, if the wizarding population thought that Voldemort and
his Death Eaters had been forceful in their message thus far, more was yet to come. Once this final
task was completed Voldemort would be unleashing a whole new level of strength. It was time for
the Death Eaters to move into the open.

It had begun to rain in Little Hangleton not long after Remus had left them. Sirius wondered if
weather reports had been part of Hermione's research, because although they had worked in the
downpour to finish the final area of the house, they now sat warm and dry inside the little tent she
had brought with her. Sirius looked at his watch - half an hour until Riddle's estimated arrival in
Godric's Hollow. 'Are you nervous?' he asked Hermione. She was sitting next to him, leaning
against his side, her eyes fixed on the boarded-up and still faintly orange Gaunt shack. Sirius felt
quite unsettled sitting there with the rain plunking heavily on the canvas roof of the tent. The
twisted moss-covered tree trunks and tumbledown building were the only things he could see from
this vantage point; the sky had been dark with clouds last time he had seen it, and the closely
packed forest made it seem even darker - it was a very lonely place.

'Yes,' Hermione said quietly, 'but not about the fire - you and Remus did a brilliant job, really you
probably could have managed without me. '

Sirius laughed, and the sound was so out of place in the forlorn setting that he stopped. 'Yeah I'm
sure. So what are you nervous about then?'

Dumbledore for a start,' she sighed. 'Not about the fight, I'm sure he'll be able to beat Riddle, but I
worry what he's going to tell James and Lily, and Remus has been so weird about keeping
Frederica's plan from him it just makes me wonder if he knows something.' She paused and then
said thoughtfully, 'The Remus I knew always trusted Dumbledore, so much so that he was willing
to trust Snape simply because Dumbledore told him to; the fact that he doesn't want to involve him
at all now has me a little concerned.'

Sirius hadn't thought of this. 'You know, you're right... Moony has been a bit funny about him
lately.' Then he chuckled to himself, 'Maybe he's just worried Dumbledore will steal Lady Fehr
from him.'

Hermione gave a reluctant giggle, 'I can think of one definite problem with that theory.'

'Hmm,' Sirius said, 'true. I dunno then.' Hermione didn't reply, and Sirius wanted to move away
from Horcruxes and depressing conversations about not trusting people, so he asked flippantly, 'So
what are you getting me for my birthday?'

'Er … nothing,' Hermione said, giving him a funny look at the unexpected change in topic. 'You
didn't get me anything.'

A good point, Sirius thought, but said anyway, 'I threw you a party.'
'No, Remus organised that,' Hermione countered, before saying dryly, 'I have an extravaganza
planned for him in March, to say thank you.'

Sirius nudged her with his elbow and grinned, 'Really? He'd hate that.'

She smiled, too. 'I know, but you'll be jealous, and he'll think that's quite funny, so it's a fine gift.'

'That's true,' Sirius agreed, thinking that even though she was joking she was right; Moony would
find it funny and Sirius would most definitely be jealous if Remus got a party and he didn't. 'So
have you really got me nothing?' Sirius wheedled, 'It's only five days away.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, 'When would I have been shopping? Not allowed to leave the house,
remember.'

'You could owl order me something,' Sirius muttered sullenly, wondering why he cared so much,
considering he'd really only been kidding when he'd brought it up.

'No I couldn't, I don't have any money,' Hermione reminded him. 'It doesn't really seem right to ask
you for gold to buy your own birthday present.'

'Alright,' Sirius granted, slightly happier after hearing her reasoning, 'I'll let you off this year, but
once you have your high-paying Ministry job I'll expect something grand in reparation.'

'Sure thing,' Hermione said, amused. 'So what's your excuse then? You have gold and were out and
about all the time before my birthday, seems awfully slack of you.' She raised her eyebrows at him
expectantly.

'I thought it would seem too forward.' Sirius mumbled, regretting starting the stupid conversation in
the first place.

Hermione's expression softened considerably and she asked, 'Really?'

Sirius was quite annoyed at himself for feeling embarrassed, 'Yeah, and I didn't know what to get
you, and I didn't really know what was going on then, so I just sort of left it. Sorry.'

'Don't be,' Hermione said lightly, 'I was only turning two, hardly a milestone birthday.'

Sirius grimaced, 'That makes me feel a little creepy you know.'

'You need to get over that,' Hermione said in a slightly impatient tone, 'because if Frederica says
no, I'm probably going to have to go back, and I'd quite like to continue this, you know… if you
don't find someone else in the meantime.'

Back to depressing, Sirius thought, but he grinned, determined to drive away the uncomfortable
feeling the rainy forest gave him and said, 'Well even if I did, I'd know you were coming so I'd
make sure she was hidden under the bed.' Hermione was quiet for a moment and Sirius began to
think he'd just made a very inappropriate joke. Thankfully the rain was coming down relentlessly
now, interrupting what would surely have been an awkward silence – leading to a telling off no
doubt– but she surprised him.

'Okay, now I'm going to want to look under every bed always,' she laughed, 'because that is just too
creepy.'

'It is a bit isn't it?' he said, and unable to help himself he added, 'Maybe she can go in the
wardrobe.'
'Sirius,' Hermione said still laughing, 'I know you're just being an idiot,' she jogged him with her
elbow and then sobered slightly as she continued, 'but twenty years is a long time. I really don't
expect you to be a monk.'

Sirius was taken aback to hear her say this. Shouldn't she want him to wait for her? 'That sounds
like a challenge,' he said, 'are you trying to say I couldn't do it?'

'No,' Hermione said; her lips twitched for a second and he knew she was just humouring him, 'just
that it's not really fair to ask you to, that's all.'

Sirius had always found Hermione a bit hard to read, and usually when he thought he finally had
her reactions pinned down she would go and do something that caused him to rethink his
assumptions, like this for example. It was best to be direct. 'Would you do it for me?'

'I'd try,' Hermione said, obviously startled into honesty by Sirius's cunning ploy of just asking what
he meant for once. She looked at him with a slight frown and said hesitantly, 'So I guess that's all I
could ask of you.'

Continuing with this novel new method for gaining real answers Sirius asked, 'But aren't you
supposed to want me to say I'll wait? That there'll never be anyone else –'

She cut him off with a huff and looked away, back to the shack and its faded orange coating. 'I
don't know what I'm supposed to say,' she said icily, 'I haven't seen the guide book for this
conversation.' But she seemed to realise quickly that he hadn't meant to offend her because she put
her hand on his knee and said in a much less agitated tone, 'I just want you to be happy, and for me
to be happy – that was the whole point of this, that my friends and their families would live happy
lives.' She gave him a little half smile. 'So if you would be happy being a lonely celibate bloke for
twenty years then yes, that's fine,' she said, 'but if you want to live, that's fine too.'

Sirius suddenly understood the reason she would never give him a definite opinion on this – she
was being realistic. As usual, he thought. It was Hermione after all, and twenty years was a long
time; she was not some romantic dreamer with ridiculous notions of desire spanning eternity...
well, two decades really, but it might as well be. Really Hermione just wanted to live, and for
everyone else to be able to do the same. Very pleased with himself for figuring all this out and
having had quite enough of serious conversation – she was looking little concerned at his
prolonged silence – he grinned and in an effort to show her he was back to his normal self he asked,
'Are you trying to break up with me?'

'No,' she snorted, then with a wicked little smirk she said, 'it's just that I wouldn't want to be the
first in twenty years – might blow my head off.'

For a split second Sirius just stared at her in shock, before he began to laugh - what had he done to
the polite girl she used to be? As she giggled at her own joke, and probably the stunned look on his
face, he decided it didn't matter because he liked this one much better anyway. 'Well, in that case
I'll do my best to be unfaithful,' he said chuckling at the ridiculousness of the statement.

Then Hermione leaned over and kissed him. It wasn't the sort of kiss he gotten used to over the last
few weeks, one that would distract him from almost anything else, but it wasn't a particularly
innocent one either. 'Don't try too hard,' she said as she pulled away.

Sirius didn't say it aloud because it sounded extremely sappy even in his head, but he thought that
he would have to try quite hard to be able to be with anyone else at all after her.

'Come on,' Hermione said as she got to her feet a moment later, 'we might as well get started. We
need to pack all this up before we light the fyre, and we've only got fifteen minutes until sunset.'

Sirius followed her, bent double out of the tent, and they began to break their little camp. It didn't
take long and soon Sirius was back to feeling like a pack mule as he lugged their rucksacks to the
designated safe point halfway up the little valley. He was soaked within minutes, and by the time
he reached the front of the shack where Hermione was waiting, there was chilly rain water dripping
from his hair and down the back of his neck. 'Hey, why do you get to stay dry?' he asked her
through chattering teeth – because she was, the rain didn't seem to touch her. He shook his sopping
hair in her direction and she smiled before pointing her wand at him.

'Because I think ahead,' she said, the wand in her hand flicked and he suddenly felt warm and dry
and then she muttered 'Impervious'. He held out his hand in front of him and even though he could
see the rain hitting it he still felt dry.

'You have a bloody answer for everything.' Sirius grumbled, feeling a bit foolish for not thinking of
it himself.

'Sorry about that,' Hermione said, with a smile at his grumpy face, 'now, are you ready?'

'Yes,' he said, and the realisation hit him suddenly - this was it! Hermione met his eyes for a
second and then with an odd little grin she snatched his hand and squeezed it briefly. She released
it without another word and pointed her wand at the miniscule gap in the containment field. Sirius
copied her – his job was to help close the gap as quickly as possible.

Hermione was breathing slowly and deeply, completely focused on the task; the rain was coming
down harder than ever now, the mulchy ground at their feet turning to mud, then before he knew it
Hermione counted down, 'Three … two … one!' and there was a flash of yellow from the tip of her
wand. Sirius began to cast the containment charm at once; suddenly his heart was racing, and he
couldn't think of anything but the charm, and the echo of Hermione doing it too, backing him up.

In seconds the fyre was straining against the previous weak point looking for escape, but to no
avail – it was trapped. Hermione was holding his hand again, pulling him back. She had been right,
this was different from the fire at the glen, sharper, louder, and more vicious, and the creatures
made of flame grew in size more quickly, scampering up the walls of the shack. He couldn't tear
his eyes away; the sight was quite amazing – horrifically frightening, but amazing - the flames had
reached the heavily-patched roof already,and the dwelling hissed and crackled under the onslaught.
There was black, sick-looking smoke curling though the monsters as they feasted on the building,
but it, too, was trapped in the protective field. Hermione tugged at his hand again and this time
Sirius retreated with her.

'Five more minutes,' she said, 'then the field will start to close.' It was bizarre to watch – the roaring
fire unaffected by the pelting rain. They stood in awed silence as the blaze raged on; Hermione had
wrapped her arm around his waist and was leaning against him. At the five minute mark the
containment charm did indeed begin to close, and Hermione grinned up at him - Merlin he was
glad he'd been involved in this, Tom Riddle's soul burning before their eyes, and it was all because
of them - then there was a low rumble that vibrated out from the fire Sirius could feel the ground
beneath his feet begin to tremble. Hermione's grin faltered and her face paled; the low rumble had
changed, winding up to a keening wail. The pitch grated inside him and made Sirius want to cover
his ears though he knew it would do no good. The fyre, that had been mottled-black smoke and
writhing shades of orange flame, was suddenly completely bright again, the containment swelling
and shrinking as the demons within heaved against their restraint like some monstrous singular
entity breathing sinister fiery air.

'Shit, shit, shit,' Hermione muttered under her breath 'It's not going to hold, Sirius, it's not going to-'
but he couldn't hear the rest of her sentence over the morbid bawling of the trapped beasts. The
awful sound built until a blast from the centre of the fyre echoed about the valley, it shook the trees
and sent little waves of muddy surface water lapping over Sirius's boots. It was so loud he was sure
the sound of it would travel to the little village just on the other side of the hill. He wondered for a
moment what the muggles would think was going on; if the light from the fire was visible too they
would probably just think that it was someone celebrating Guy Fawkes Night a week early. Weird
muggles and their terrorism holidays, Sirius thought. The only reason he knew about it at all was
that it was a celebration focused on burning stuff, a topic he had always enjoyed.

After a few more seconds of panicked murmuring Hermione started forward, but then the house
within the charm crumbled to nothing with a surprisingly mundane crash, and all that remained was
the blackened framework. The containment continued to shrink, smaller and smaller until the fiery
creatures sounded like they were dying.

'It's okay,' he said to Hermione, 'look, it's okay.' And it was; soon the fire was nothing more than a
bonfire, then with a final cawing howl, it vanished, the Gaunt shack with it, and there was nothing.

'Come on,' Hermione said, urgently dragging him back down towards the site. There was no trace
of the blaze - nothing, just boggy forest floor, like the hovel had never even existed. She turned to
look at him, a very wide and relieved smile on her face. 'They're gone,' she whispered, 'Sirius, we
did it!' and then she threw her arms around him with such force that he swayed and his feet slid in
the mud, as Hermione laughed with relief in his ear. The rain was still pouring down, and he was
cold, tired, and ankle deep in leafy sludge, but Sirius didn't think he'd ever been happier in all his
life – Voldemort was half dead.
 Gamboge

31 st October

It was cold and raining heavily at 17:00 hours when Sergeant Paul Clarke arrived at the
nondescript van for his third tedious overnight shift in the frustratingly unremarkable village. He
said a hasty good bye to the transfer driver, acknowledged the sergeant he was replacing, and
dashed to the cover of the waiting vehicle. 'Evening lads,' he said as he climbed into the van,
holding his hands out to the blower the minute he'd closed the door, and rubbing them together
vigorously.

'Evening Sarge,' Private Williams said, poking his ginger head into the gap between the front seats.
'Bring any biscuits?' he added hopefully.

Paul chuckled. 'Been another day like that has it?' he asked. He dug in his pack, then with a stage
magician's flourish produced a plastic ice cream container that had Peanut Brownies scrawled
across it in his wife's handwriting. He tossed it to a pleased-looking Williams, and said, 'Don't
mention it to the wife – she'll be right shirty if she finds out I pinched her baking for you lot.' The
three men nodded silently, their mouths occupied by biscuit munching. 'So has nothing at all
happened today?' Paul asked, taking a biscuit for himself.

'Nope,' Jones said, 'unless you count the rich tosser in his 911 that went haring by about ten
minutes ago.'

'I don't,' Paul said resignedly, pulling a thermos out of his pack and handing it to the boys. 'So what
do you lot reckon then, the KGB pulled the plug now that the girl's dead? I know Five thought she
was pretty far down the ranks, but maybe she was wasn't.'

'Yeah,' said Williams, pouring himself tea before passing the thermos on to Peters, 'if Granger was
in charge of the whole thing, Ogden and Moony might not go ahead without her say so.'

'Do you think they know what happened to her?' Jones asked.

'It does seem weird that she had the smarts or the gear to get away from the middle of Five's offices
but then couldn't cure herself of an infection,' Peters spoke up slowly. He was a quiet soldier
normally; he liked to think things through before giving an opinion and when he did put his two
cents in it usually showed. 'I'd say she lost contact with them and there was no one to help her after
she was attacked, or whatever happened to get that wound.'

'She must have been alone,' Jones said, 'how else would she have ended up on the bank of the
Thames?' He looked thoughtful for a moment, 'Unless they – Ogden and that – were mad at her for
getting caught, so they killed her and dumped her in the river.'

Paul smiled to himself - nothing like a bit of theorising on a good mystery to keep your spirits up.
He relaxed and listened to the men argue good-naturedly in the back as he kept watch for
suspicious behaviour out in the street. The rain had let up slightly and Paul grinned as two little
boys dressed as pumpkins darted between the front of the van and the car parked in front. The
taller of the two held the little one back as they reached the road, then made a great show of
looking left and right checking for cars. Paul was impressed with the child's responsible behaviour
– that was until the taller pumpkin let out a peal of laughter and tore out into the road, and the
small one giggled and chased after him. They ran awkwardly in their bulky costumes but made it to
the other side safely.

Paul watched them all the way to the corner where – so involved in their game of chase - the two
children barely dodged around a tall figure in what Paul thought was a grim reaper costume, though
he appeared to have forgotten his scythe. Paul shook his head; it was one thing for kids to get
involved in the dressing-up rubbish, but a grown man? 'Will you get a look at this weirdo?' he said
over his shoulder to the men in the back.

He heard the sound of the men getting up to gain a better view as the costume enthusiast passed.
'Where do you reckon he's off to then?' There was an odd quality to Williams's voice.

Paul looked at him, and then back to the costumed bloke who was visible in his wing mirror, and
he thought he knew what Williams meant - Hallowe'en or not it was a bit unusual for a fancy dress
fellow to be walking along alone, not surrounded by drunken yobbos in similarly stupid outfits.
There was something else amiss, Paul realised; the man's right hand had been hidden inside the
front of his cloak - like he was holding a weapon - but he was heading away from the town… Paul
turned to face Williams, 'What are you thinking private?'

'Not sure, but he looks a bit shifty.'

'You reckon he might be this Dumbledore sod that's got Five all tied up in knots?' Paul pushed. He
wasn't sure the man's behaviour was even suspicious, and he could think of no reason why
Dumbledore would bother to dress up when no one knew what he looked like anyway, but relevant
or not, it was the most interesting thing that had happened in three days.

Williams shook his head in hesitation, 'Dunno but I – '

The rest of Williams's sentence was lost to an earth-shattering blast; the van shook around them
and what Paul saw in the wing mirror made his heart stop. He blinked a few times, sure he must be
imagining it, but the reaper had a withdrawn a narrow baton from under his costume, and from it –
Paul blinked again – jets of coloured light were shooting at a disembodied head that was floating in
mid-air, the wind tossing long white hair and matching beard wildly.

'Sarge, Sarge!' Peters said weakly, 'Are you seeing this?'

Paul clambered into the back of the van to get a better look through the rear window. 'What in the
name of all that's holy?' he murmured to himself as the floating head bobbed through the air
avoiding the colourful light coming from the black cloaked man's baton.

'Is this some kind of Hallowe'en thing?' Williams asked, confusion in his voice, 'You know, like a
spooky show or something?'

Paul just shook his head in wonder. Suddenly the bearded head had a body, tall and thin – an old
man – wearing a star-spangled light blue housecoat. 'What the hell!' Paul exclaimed as there was
another shudder that shook the van, and the road between the two bizarre figures cracked, opening
a gaping fissure down the middle of the street. Then he noticed the white haired one had a strip of
wood in his hand too, which he twirled over his head. A large tree from the front lawn of a nearby
house was uprooted; it flew through the air and burst into flame as it careened toward the Reaper.
It's like magic, Paul thought dazedly; in all his years of service he had never seen anything like this.

Then the tree was gone, vanishing to leave only the flames behind, which changed direction and
hurtled back at the old man in his blue frock. The old man had his back to the van; he threw his
arms wide and the fire darkened and turned to black smoke so dense that Paul couldn't make out
the black-cloaked figure as it charged.

Suddenly there was a scream that came from the left of the van and Paul tore his eyes away to see a
woman standing on her front porch staring at the commotion in horror. Civilians, Paul thought –
whatever the hell was going on here it was too sodding dangerous. There were innocent people in
these houses; he and his men needed to eliminate the threat. 'Right men,' he said 'there's only two of
them. I say we fire a warning shot, give them a chance to come along quietly, but move in if we
need to – whether this is a joke or not, it's going too far.'

He opened the back door a crack and heard a high voice laughing, 'You'll need to do better than
that, Dumbledore!'

'Dumbledore!' all three men repeated in shock.

'This is them Sarge!' Williams said, turning wide eyes on Paul. 'The Russians, I knew they had
some crazy gadgets, but Jesus!'

'Hold for a minute,' Paul said; he wrenched his radio from its holder and pushed the button on the
side, 'Davis come in.' There was no answer. He repeated the action, 'Davis come in.' Paul pressed
the button again, to no response.

Peters looked at him. 'Didn't Five say the spies had some kind of super jamming tech?'

'You're right,' Paul nodded, looking approvingly at his three men waiting for orders with readied
weapons. 'Okay, we'll just have to do this ourselves. This one in the blue,' Paul indicated with the
useless radio, 'the other one called him Dumbledore. That's all we needed to know – he's the
higher-up we've been waiting for, MI5 gave orders to bring him in dead or alive. Take him down
first, then we'll see about the grim reaper.'

He pushed the door open wide and his men spurred themselves to action, landing on the road as
one they charged forward, guns ready and faces set.

Voldemort was worried - not that he would lose, but that Dumbledore was here. The man had been
waiting for him and that was concerning, he thought, as he swept his wand at the airborne burning
tree, sending the flame back toward Dumbledore. He had been musing earlier about the lack of
challenge to make his victory more symbolic, but this had not been part of his plans; he had never
fought the old wizard before but Dumbledore was just as fearsome as he had expected him to be.
Sickly thick smoke swallowed him for a moment and all was black, but otherwise not harmful.
'You'll have to do better than that Dumbledore!' he taunted, transfiguring the smoke into a
colourless suffocating cloud that crept back towards his greatest enemy.

As they exchanged another volley, and the cloud crept closer, seemingly unnoticed, Dumbledore
cast a spell Voldemort didn't recognise. A series of short sharp cracks pieced the air, and
Voldemort threw up a shield to protect himself - what magic was Dumbledore using? Voldemort
was oddly pleased – it was fitting that the great wizard should call up obscure spells in a conflict
like this - and glared ferociously across the space between himself and the headmaster. The sound
of the bangs was still echoing around them as Voldemort watched the wizard before him fall to his
knees. Dumbledore's face was pained, contorted, and then horribly vacant, before Voldemort could
no longer see the wizened visage as Dumbledore fell face down on the asphalt, unmoving except
for the scarlet spreading in a wide smudge across the light blue fabric of the back of his robe.

Voldemort didn't understand. He had not cast anything – he was waiting to see the effect of the
unknown spell. Then he saw them: muggles, three of them, wearing helmets and holding large guns
- the sound, Voldemort realised, that had been them, the muggles. He looked at Dumbledore.
Muggles, Voldemort seethed, taking the life of a wizard with their primitive weapons. Those filthy
creatures, how dare they take his victory? How dare they kill their betters, their rightful rulers? His
wand slashed the air in the direction of the approaching scum. They would pay for this, the
removal of a powerful wizard, it would earn them a painful end! The muggle closest to him
screamed in pain as Voldemort's curse sliced his right arm off; the other two took aim with their
guns and a second curse severed them clean in half, choking off strangled shouts as they fell. A
fourth man, older than the others, came into view, firing his weapon as he moved; as Voldemort's
third curse made contact, the late comer's head rolled from his shoulders, and his body followed it
to the ground.

Voldemort smiled - foolish muggles, disgusting creatures, they deserved the pain, he thought. The
armless one was not yet dead, but lay moaning on the wet road as he approached. 'Crucio,'
Voldemort purred, and the red haired man convulsed, screaming in agony. Yes, Voldemort
thought, yes, they deserved this. He left the injured muggle lying twitching in the street – he would
live a while longer, which only added to the violent scene, and Voldemort needed to have this story
spread. The great Dumbledore had been killed by those he tried to protect. This would seal
Voldemort's future - no one could argue with him now. Muggles really were a danger to all that
wizards held dear.

Now he would finish his task - the Potters would think they were safe, that Dumbledore would
have stopped him, but they were not, and it was the animalistic and undirected violence of the
Muggles that made it so. The house was not far, just around the corner; his walk to the final
destination, the place where history would be made, was a short one. He was consumed by the
glory this night already held - he could not have made it more memorable if he tried: muggles
proving themselves to be the violent creatures he had always known them to be, Dumbledore
murdered, his loudest opponent vanquished, and now the boy. The perfection surged through him;
it felt warm, almost like pleasure, the wonder that this was the time that the world would change.

He felt light headed with pride as he strode down the darker side street and then, just ahead, he
could see it, the little house that would be the stage for the final act. He was surprised; the curtains
were not drawn and he could see the boy - the reason he was here – plainly. They did not look wary
or even concerned; the man, James Potter, had the boy on his knee, puffing little clouds of coloured
smoke from the end of his wand for the boy's amusement. Voldemort reached out to push the gate
open, and winced as he felt a burning tingle in his right shoulder; he looked down and saw his
black cloak was shiny with blood, and stopped.

The muggles, he thought viciously, the filthy animals had touched him with their barbaric weapons,
the nerve of them! Perhaps the heat in his chest had not been pleasure after all, but the much more
foreign feeling, pain. But Lord Voldemort injured by muggles? The very idea was laughable. He
looked at the wound again, the idea might be ridiculous but there was no doubt that he could feel
it. He vanished the bullet that was lodged in the front of his shoulder; the pain lessened and he
laughed. Stupid muggles and their crude tools might be enough to take Dumbledore down, but not
him, not Lord Voldemort.

'Magenta,' James said, carefully enunciating the syllables as a bright pink puff left his wand.
Remus grinned from his position in the armchair closest to the window; it afforded him a good
view of the street without it seeming too obvious that he was watching, and most importantly
without him being visible from outside.

'Good that he'll know so many shades of pink,' Remus said, rolling his eyes at James and his
overly-complicated colours, 'that's dead useful.' They had just spent the last ten minutes arguing
about whether or not 'Gamboge' was a real colour. Remus was still half-certain that James had
made it up, even though his friend had given a lengthy explanation that such a colour did exist, a
well-thought-out justification that involved some African tribe and references in old English
literature. This burst of rational thought had led Remus to the conclusion that James's freedom
couldn't come soon enough; confinement had James reading so much that he knew obscure facts
that Remus didn't, and that was not natural.

There was a series of loud bangs in the distance, and Remus once again jumped in fright - it
sounded like gunshots. James looked faintly amused, but didn't tease him for flinching, only saying
with a puzzled expression, 'I've never heard that many at once before.'

'That many?' Remus asked faintly, thinking that Godric's Hollow was hardly some inner-city
neighbourhood with gang problems and regular shootings. 'Prongs, that was a muggle gun.'

'Yes,' James nodded, showing off his mastery of obscure facts, 'they're called rifles. At dawn and
sunset you can hear them, usually more on the weekends. Lily says it's shooting season for the
muggles, you know like grouse and pheasants and such.'

Remus mulled this over, and came to the conclusion that the noise hadn't been much like woodland
hunters he'd encountered before. He also thought that the shots had come from the direction of
town, not the open countryside, and it didn't seem likely that the muggles would find many game
birds to shoot there, much less enough for a barrage of shots within just a few seconds.

Remus looked back out the window wondering what could possibly be going on. It was nearly dark
now and the spattering sound of rain against the window sporadically increased sharply and then
faded as the wind gusted. He heard Lily descending the stairs and began to worry; if she served
dinner he would have to go and sit in kitchen, and that would mean giving up his prime watching
position at the sitting room window.

'You boys have been awfully quiet this evening; I was beginning to worry,' Lily said as she entered
the room. It was only the slightest blur of movement, a black shape in the corner of his eye as he
turned to face Lily - Remus's head snapped back to the window. 'Could you draw the curtains,
Remus?' Lily asked as she bent down to pick Harry up.

Remus didn't reply – he couldn't reply – there was a cloaked and hooded figure pushing open the
gate to the garden path. 'Prongs,' Remus said, his voice low and hoarse, 'Prongs, get your wand,
he's here.' Remus's mind was going a mile a minute but his body didn't seem to want to react, like
he was stuck in his hidden chair. Where was Dumbledore? What had happened? This was the
worst case scenario. 'Prongs,' he said more loudly though his voice was still oddly calm, like he
was trying not to spook a skittish animal. 'Get your wand. He's here.'

'Who's here?' James asked as he handed Harry to his mother and looked at Remus in confusion.

'Voldemort,' Remus said, his limbs finally jolting into action. He was on his feet and his wand was
drawn as he said urgently, 'Voldemort, Prongs!' Remus was halfway out of the room in a flash and
James didn't seem to need any time to get used to the idea.

'Lily,' James said firmly, 'take Harry, we'll stop him.' He met Remus's eyes and Remus was very
surprised not to see panic there; Hermione had said James had been so flustered upon the arrival of
Voldemort that he had left his only weapon lying on the sofa, but this James was not any kind of
flustered. Lily didn't say a word as she passed the two men with Harry clutched to her chest and
started up the staircase, picking up speed as she went.

'Ready mate?' James asked before turning to cast a shield charm at the staircase then he came to
stand beside Remus, the two men filling the door from the hallway to the rest of the house.

Remus's heart was drumming a tattoo against his ribs - was he ready? Was he ready to die? He
really didn't know, but he was ready to try and save these people, he was very sure of that. Every
second counts, the reasonable voice in his head said over the panicking one, meet him – don't let
him in the house. Remus's legs were carrying him to the front door without conscious effort; it was
like a weird nightmare as he watched his hand reach for the handle.

James was still next to him. 'Moony, what are you –'

'Meet him,' Remus said, 'we can't let him in the house - Harry's here.' With that, he yanked the door
open; James was only a pace behind him as Remus took a step forward onto the stoop. In the same
instant he brandished his wand in the direction of the cloaked figure who was much closer than
Remus expected him to be. The light from the hallway spilled out onto the garden path and
Voldemort's face was visible beneath the shadow of his hood for the briefest moment; the pale
skin and crimson eyes caused Remus shiver as he said 'Stupefy!' and he heard James do the same.

Voldemort's wand arm moved almost lazily, as though pushing the feeble spells aside, then the
movement changed and for a split second Remus was sure a killing curse would leave his wand,
but the sight of two opponents charging to engage him willingly seemed to have made Voldemort
hesitate. Then the meaning of his spell became obvious - the two posts that held up the little porch
vanished and the roof gave an ominous groaning creak. Remus jumped from the step to avoid the
collapsing structure, his leap taking him much closer to a surprised Voldemort and very luckily out
of the path of a jet of green light that had just left Voldemort's wand. There was crash behind him
and he heard a grunt of pain from James, but he couldn't turn to look because his advantage of
surprise over Voldemort had been lost and there was a wand aimed directly at his chest.

'The wolf,' the cold voice hissed out from under the hood, 'A guard dog for wizards now?
Greyback will be most disappointed.'

Remus felt his fear recede at the taunt. He couldn't think of anything better than Greyback being
disappointed in him, unless it was this bastard dead on the Potters' front lawn. He realised then that
however high-minded he might be, at this moment a stunning spell wasn't going to cut it - it was
kill or be killed. Remus focused for the tiniest moment, before shouting, 'Avada Kedavra', and was
very glad that he had practiced the evil spell because the feeling that raced down his arm as he said
the words was foul, and something that he would never been able to cope with if he weren't
prepared for it. Voldemort's eyes widened beneath his hood and Remus saw the thin lips mimic his
own words. Vaguely Remus thought that his opponent's reactions seemed restricted, almost
hesitant, but he wasn't going to question it because whatever was causing Voldemort's reluctance,
right now it was saving Remus's life.

Remus and Voldemort were only ten feet apart when the two shafts of sickly green collided, then
just as Hermione had said, the airborne spells connected and the green morphed to gold and
thickened, wavering before the golden light spread rapidly between them, stretching out in the form
of a shining gold rope reaching from the tip of Remus's wand to Voldemort's.

Remus nearly smiled - if he hadn't been prepared for this he would most certainly have panicked.
His wand was vibrating violently in his grip as he slowly advanced; the glow from the hall light
behind him still lit Voldemort's face, a face that showed fear. The red eyes were wide as they
followed the gleaming thread along its length and on to Remus's face, and the werewolf couldn't
resist - he grinned as wide as he could, trying to hide the fear that was pulsing through him.
Dumbledore still wasn't here, and that could only mean one thing. James hadn't made a sound since
the porch had fallen, and surely he would have come to Remus's aid by now if he was able, and
that meant Remus was quite alone - alone and fighting with a wand that could distract Voldemort
but not finish him. But he could not let the evil man know that, so Remus forced his grin wider and
laughed, sounding quite as manic as Voldemort himself and he moved forward as he did so, and to
Remus's great surprise Voldemort retreated a few steps, away from the house and out onto the
lawn.

Remus heard a creak and a slam above him but he didn't look up because beads of bright light had
appeared on the golden thread stretching between the wands by that point, and had begun to slide
the length of the connection. But then, without warning, there was the bright red flash of a stunning
spell shooting down from the sky. It sailed past Remus to hit Voldemort directly in the chest, and
he collapsed, falling sideways, the thread of light still joining their wands. As Voldemort's eyes
rolled back Remus wrenched his wand to the side and broke the connection.

Prongs, Remus thought - he was okay after all, and it had worked! He had distracted Voldemort
and James had hit him. Remus approached the stunned figure, and bent down to pull the wand
from his slack spidery fingered grip, noticing as he did so that there was blood running freely from
a wound in Voldemort's shoulder. Remus shrugged to himself, thinking that at least he hadn't snuck
past Dumbledore unscathed. They could decide what to do later, but in the meantime a bleeding
Voldemort was a very appealing idea, Remus thought as he muttered 'Incarcerous,' and black ropes
snaked around Voldemort's unconscious form. Then Remus turned, wondering why James wasn't
next to him yet, and as he did he caught a glimpse of auburn above him. Looking up, he saw Lily
half hanging out Harry's bedroom window, her wand still extended, and a completely shocked
expression on her face.

Hermione found herself sitting at the Potters' kitchen table in unexpected quiet a short while later
that evening. She didn't think the situation could have been more bizarre if it tried -Voldemort's
dead and bound and bloody body lay on the floor in the hallway, both Sirius and Remus kept
bursting out into completely unnatural sounding bouts of laughter that only lasted only seconds
before dying away (which Hermione was quite sure was some form of shock) and Lily was serving
stew and pretending all was normal aside from the tear tracks that continued to trace their way
down her face. James wasn't doing anything except holding a bag of frozen peas to his head and
grumbling about missing all the fun.

No one really knew what to do because the muggles were swarming about in the village, searching
for the person who had killed the soldiers. Remus had been for a look as soon as Voldemort was
secure, leaving Lily to tend to the unconscious James, but when the werewolf had reached the
attack site he had barely enough time to grab the invisibility cloak and swing it around his
shoulders before more muggles with large guns were screeching onto the scene. Fearing discovery
and arrest, he had fled, knowing not to underestimate the muggles after what happened to
Hermione; if they figured out he was "Remus Moony" things might just get a whole lot more
complicated. So he had run back to the Potters, his mind full of images of the shot Dumbledore
lying in the road, his body so close to the ones of the dismembered muggles. The only up side was
that he had returned to find that Voldemort was no longer stunned but stone cold dead, from blood
loss and shock from the wound in his shoulder.

Hermione was in a severe state of shock as well. She had been counting on Dumbledore to make
sure the Hermione Granger who grew up this time, with no war and probably no friendships with
Ron or Harry, would be ready to come back to make sure that this was the true past and the
original timeline didn't reinstate itself. Now she would have to think of some other way to ensure
that events unfolded the way she needed them to. There was so much information that needed to be
passed along, and so many lives and decisions to be subtly massaged into place – Dumbledore's
speacialty, and she'd had no backup plan.
She sat at the table staring into the bowl of stew a silently crying Lily had placed before her,
thinking; if she stayed she could do it herself she supposed, but would that create some kind of
insane time paradox thing? Maybe Remus could show her the notes, he'd be capable of presenting
it in a way that Hermione would feel comfortable with, possibly better that Dumbledore would. But
there was the issue of how they would ever meet if Remus was not employed by Hogwarts – which
Hermione realised sadly he probably wouldn't be because there was no Dumbledore to stand up for
him... then Remus would not be known to Hermione at all. So maybe he was not a good option
either.

Suddenly there was a hand squeezing her knee beneath the table and Sirius whispered in her ear,
'We need to tell them before I send a patronus to Moody. I doubt he'll think it's a good idea, but
they need to know what really happened before they start answering questions from the Ministry.'

Hermione nodded, he was right of course; the Ministry didn't know Voldemort was dead yet, or
even that Dumbledore was dead but it wouldn't be long till they were on the scene asking what had
gone on. Most likely they'd be modifying memories in every direction, and Hermione needed to be
well away from there before all that began. 'Okay,' Hermione murmured back, and she put her hand
on top of his beneath the table, 'go ahead, it will be better if it comes from you.'

Sirius paled visibly. 'Are you sure? I made a right mess of telling Moony-'

'Of telling Moony what?' James asked from behind his frozen peas.

Sirius flinched and turned to look at his best friend, swallowing nervously. 'I made a right mess of
telling Moony who Hermione really is, and why she's here.'

James lowered the peas to look at Remus, who got to his feet and nodded. 'He really did,' Remus
agreed, as he moved around the table, coming to a halt behind Sirius and Hermione. 'Lily, come
and sit down - we have to explain a few things before the Ministry get here, and you know they
won't be far away.'
 Chapter 55

31 st October

James and Lily were roaring with laughter. 'Pads,' James said weakly, 'I know it's been a rough
night, but you don't need to tell such ridiculous stories to cheer us up – I'm cut up about
Dumbledore, sure, we all are, but Voldemort's gone, and you know Dumbles and his 'next great
adventure' line –'

Sirius looked up at James, his friend's last statement distracting him from how badly the intended
conversation seemed to be going. 'Did he give you that rubbish too? He said that to me when Uncle
Alphard died.'

'Yeah,' James nodded; his eyebrows contracted slightly and he said much less cheerfully, 'when
mum and dad went he told me.'

They all felt slightly awkward at the hysterical happiness inside them - well, Sirius did anyway,
and thought that would account for how impossible the Potters were finding it to take him at all
seriously. He was sure he should be horribly depressed, but Voldemort was gone – not "gone", he
thought with a half-laugh, his body was definitely there, and Sirius could see his evil feet if he
leaned back in his chair and looked into the hall. He was definitely dead, in any case, and it was
awfully hard to feel the right amount of grief for the loss of Dumbledore when Sirius had just
kicked Voldemort in the face. It wasn't as satisfying as he'd thought it would be, but it was the
principle of the thing, he told himself. A manic grin touched his face again, and he squashed it
down. People had died, and it wasn't over yet, there was still business at hand.

'Anyway,' said Lily, reaching out the hand that wasn't keeping Harry secured to her chest to give
her husband's knee a comforting pat, 'whether Dumbledore's well organised mind is off
adventuring or not, you said you needed to tell us something before the Ministry get here - and I
very much doubt that it's your girlfriend is my son's best friend in the future. So let's get on with it.'

Sirius looked from James and Lily's grinning faces to Hermione who was also smiling, albeit very
nervously. He didn't know what to do. He had told them everything – Horcruxes, Hermione's story,
what had happened the first time round – and they thought it was a huge joke. Hermione met
Sirius's eye and he could read the question there quite easily: do we really have to tell them now?
Sirius nodded and Hermione bit her bottom lip and frowned, before leaning over to rummage in the
rucksack she had taken to the Gaunt's. She found what she was looking for quickly, and pushed a
little white square across the table to Lily. 'I know it sounds insane but –,' she shrugged as Lily
flipped over what Sirius now realised was a photograph, the same photo that had convinced him
back in June: Harry, Hermione and Ron standing with Remus and Sirius in the entryway of
Grimmauld Place.

Sirius watched with trepidation as Lily stared in utter confusion at the little image - Sirius felt like
she didn't move for hours, but it was probably for only a few moments before James looked over
her shoulder and said, 'Shit that kid looks like me.' Then Sirius saw it, a steady rising angry heat
spreading slowly up Lily's chest and throat, like she was being filled with boiling water.

'When was this taken?' she asked, in a quiet voice of forced calm which Sirius didn't think would
last for long. Her nostrils flared slightly as she spoke and even Harry seemed to be a little
frightened, but then Sirius knew he was a pretty smart kid.
They all jumped when the silence was broken by Remus's chair falling sideways with a clatter as
he got quickly to his feet, drawing his wand as he did so, 'Protego' he said softly and he came to
stand behind Sirius and Hermione again.

'The first of September 1995,' said Hermione in answer to Lily's question, but the redhead didn't
look at her.

The piercing green stare was boring into Sirius and he had to remind himself that he really hadn't
done anything wrong. How could a look make you feel so guilty? Sirius thought in agitation. 'Lily,
Prongs, listen,' he said, thinking that he should at least try to convince them what he'd done was
right before falling back on to plan b, which was – as always – let Moony explain. 'It was the only
way, the only time we could be sure and you shouldn't be angry Lily – it worked, last time round
Harry was being carted off to live with your sister and I was about to be arrested for trying to kill
Pettigrew and being a Death Eater, and you.…' he looked at James, 'and you were both dead.' He
finished feeling slightly dramatic.

Lily blinked several times but Sirius was still unable to look away, 'Well in that case,' she said in
her falsely calm voice, 'who am I to argue? Voldemort nearly killed Remus and James tonight, but
if that was your plan…' her eyes flicked from Sirius's to Remus who was still standing behind him,
and she growled slightly. Sirius was familiar with the indignant huff that tended to accompany her
uncovering of Marauder plots, but this was much fiercer. 'I'm guessing he's in on this too.'

Remus swallowed noisily and Sirius knew he was suffering from the guilt glare too. Remus barely
ever had to deal with it seeing as how he was normally never guilty, or on the rare occasions he
was, he was smart enough to stay away until Lily had taken out her frustration on Sirius or James.
But he bore up well and Sirius was impressed when the he said in his most reasonable tone, 'I am
Lily, we really couldn't figure out another way. Hermione and I –,'

'Hold on a minute,' James interrupted, 'so you knew all day today that we were waiting for fucking
Voldemort to turn up?' Remus nodded. 'And you knew because she –,' Sirius registered a hint of
mistrust his best friends voice, 'is from the future and helped my son defeat Voldemort in 1998?'
Remus nodded again. 'Well, shit,' James said angrily, 'why didn't you tell us? This is … this is …'
he looked at Lily; her discontent with the situation seemed to be so great she was unable to form
words.

'Fucked?' Sirius suggested. James narrowed his eyes slightly but didn't say anything. 'Prongs, there
was no way to get to Voldemort, without letting him turn up here,' Sirius said, taking advantage of
the silence, 'and it worked - he's dead and you're safe and the war is over. I know it was risky but
you can't tell me you wouldn't do the same.'

James still didn't speak but Lily suddenly let out an impatient and annoyed huff and said, 'Since
when are you logical?' Then she finally looked at Hermione and asked with much less venom than
Sirius expected, 'Is it true? Did Petunia really raise Harry?

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, and they were horrible to him. He didn't even know he was magic until
Hagrid turned up with his Hogwarts letter,' she said apologetically. 'Big hairy man terrified the
Dursleys into submission for a while at least,' Hermione added as an aside, and James's lips
twitched. 'He had such an awful life – we all did once Voldemort returned – and I thought of a way
to fix it, so I had to try,' she said imploringly, 'and I really didn't think you would be able to sit here
waiting for Voldemort to turn up if you knew,' Hermione took a breath and her voice took on a
panicked edge as she continued, 'but then if you weren't here at the house with Harry he might not
turn up at all and then the last five months would have all been for nothing, and we would have
gone into a different timeline where Voldemort was still alive on the first of November and –,'
Hermione stopped abruptly at what Sirius could only assume was the glazed look in Lily's eyes.

'I'm sorry Lily, James,' Hermione said softly, 'I would never want Harry to be in danger, and in my
experience he never needed any help finding it. He was my best friend, please understand this was
for the whole of wizarding Britain, and that whatever what-if's and maybe's there were, they don't
matter now because we did it. Harry has a family and Voldemort is dead.' Sirius squeezed her hand
under the table again as those brilliant words washed over him, they did it.

They were all quiet for a moment as Lily stared at the picture of her son. James moved his frozen
peas to the other side of his forehead, before saying suddenly, 'So this is why you didn't want her
going to Forte de Sang?'

'Yup,' Sirius said, almost laughing at how great it felt just to tell the sodding truth, he grinned and
added, 'well that, and I quite like having her around, you know… I'd rather she didn't end up dead.'

'Fair enough,' James said, then Lily started to laugh. It was an odd hiccoughing sound at first and
James gave her a concerned look, but she just laughed harder; Harry, who was still sitting in her
lap, seemed to find this highly amusing because his bubbling baby giggles soon joined his
mother's. 'Lily, what?' James asked in confusion.

'It's just,' she stuttered, 'it's just that they were so afraid, to tell us.' She had tears rolling down her
cheeks as she choked out, 'They just saved the bloody world and I just beat Voldemort in a duel and
they…' she looked at Sirius and Remus, 'and they were scared we would be angry!' She banged her
fist on the table and Harry clapped his hands squealed with delight at his mother's bizarre
behaviour.

'Lils,' James said in a weak and confused voice, 'I am a little angry, we could all be dead.'

Lily seemed to have moved past the point of mere laugher and was bordering somewhere between
hysterics and just plain insanity; she patted her husband's cheek with a clumsy hand and said in a in
a broken giggle, 'but we're not, James - we're not. It's okay, no more hiding, no more fear,' and she
turned her broad smile on Remus, 'and take down that shield charm. Honestly, I'm a bit insulted.'
Remus flicked his wand and Lily chuckled, 'That wasn't nearly strong enough to protect you from
the woman who killed Voldemort.'

'Hey!' Remus said, beginning to laugh himself, 'that was a team effort - you won't be hogging all
the credit, missy.'

James was still looking stunned, and Sirius couldn't quite believe that Lily had not threatened his
life or even minor hexing, when a sliver ram appeared in the kitchen and spoke in Moody's gravelly
and slightly annoyed voice, 'Black, I'm outside but I can't see the bloody place. Come and get me.'

Both Remus and Lily quietened, and Hermione said in confusion to Sirius as the ram faded, 'But
you didn't send him one yet.'

'He must have got bored waiting,' Sirius shrugged, then said with a grin, 'Come on, let's go and tell
him - I'm sure he'll find some way to blame me for everything that went wrong, so I want to get in
the good news first.'

'Sirius,' Hermione said with slight roll of her eyes as she got to her feet, 'he can't blame you for
Dumbledore –,'

But Sirius just chuckled to himself. 'You don't know him like I do. You lot stay here,' he said to the
other three, 'and Moony can answer all your questions better than I can. We won't be long.'
He grabbed Hermione's hand in the hallway and squeezed it, then let go as he opened the door, and
they made their way through the rubble of the front porch out to the front gate. As they reached the
street, he could see Moody standing just at the edge of the neighbours' land in a thicket of trees that
backed up to the Potters' property, staring intently at a spot a little bit to the right of where the
house actually was. He didn't flinch when they came out through the gate, though it must have
looked like they were stepping out of nowhere, just acknowledged that they'd seen him and took a
few steps back into the cover of the trees, still constantly vigilant, though on a day like this one,
Sirius wasn't sure if he was avoiding Death Eaters or muggles.

'I've a letter for you lass,' Moody said gruffly when they reached him, holding out a thick embossed
envelope to Hermione. 'I've just seen what happened down the road - I hope you've got some better
news for me Black,' Moody growled as Hermione tore the letter open and unfolded the stark white
parchment.

'We do,' said Sirius, 'Horcrux destruction went off without a hitch. Voldemort made it to the front
door but they held him off, and his dead body is in there,' he turned to point to the cottage and was
distracted by Hermione's face. As she read the letter in her hands, her expression had changed from
confused to hopeful and then to downright dejected. She looked up at Sirius and her lip wobbled
slightly, but she took a deep breath in through her nose and held out the letter to Sirius. He forgot
that he was meant to be filling Moody in on the situation as he took in the elegant script before
him.

Dearest Hermione,

I have been working very hard to solve the problem, but as Remus will tell you it has been difficult.
I cannot find a way for you to stay in England - you will have to return home after all. I'm terribly
sorry to have given you false hope Schatz, but I'm sure you will be able to see your friends in the
future.

Love,

Your Mother xox

Sirius wondered for a moment if it was possible to die from heartburn; an explosion of acid seemed
to spread beneath his ribs and up his throat as he looked at the horrible words. Probably not, he
thought, but lack of oxygen though, he reasoned as he found it harder than usual to draw breath due
to the clenching in his chest, that was definitely fatal. His brain was spinning, but he could still
breathe – which was almost unfortunate, because he'd have quite liked to pass out right at that
moment to avoid having to deal with what this refusal of help from Federica really meant. They
were back at square one: no plan.

Sirius registered Moody's low rough voice and looked over to see him speaking with Hermione; her
head was down and she was nodding, 'Alright, I won't,' he heard Hermione answer, 'if you're sure...
I know it would be a risk –'

'It's not a risk lass, it's a sure thing.' Moody said gruffly. 'We'd all go down, and I don't know how
you would ever get away from them then,' he reached out a gnarled hand and rested it on her
shoulder, 'because they would always know who you were and be waiting for you – in fact they
could even prevent you from leaving in the first place.' Hermione seemed to slump slightly and
Sirius realised she was giving up, 'we just can't let that happen – not now.' Moody finished.

Sirius looked around to see Remus opening the garden gate and making his way towards them.
Either the conversation inside had calmed down somewhat or he had taken in the subdued mood of
the – frankly depressing – conversation outside, because he mirrored their serious expressions as he
nodded in greeting to Sirius, and came directly up to talk to Moody.

By the time Remus arrived, the old Auror was saying to Hermione, 'Dumbledore dead is a shock,
but he was such a weird old codger he'd probably be quite pleased to be gunned down like a
muggle, he always said he was terrified of having an inconsequential death.' Sirius snorted despite
the rising panic inside him and Hermione looked up, a horrible pained little smile on her lips. She
held out her hand to Sirius and he took it, unable to think of anything to say.

Moody grunted, 'Right, well, is Voldemort's body in there? I've been wanting to poke the bastard in
the eye with my stick ever since I got the thing.' Remus nodded and handed him a piece of
parchment; Moody glanced at it before stumping off, following the werewolf through the garden
gate.

Hermione's fingers twitched in his and she said softly, 'Moody says I have to go.' Sirius swallowed,
or tried to around the hard lump that had formed in his throat. She tugged on his hand pulling him
down as she sat on the grass, her back against a tree. Sirius sat too, mainly because he couldn't
think and it was easier just to obey.

'Did you hear what he said just now,' Hermione asked, 'about telling the Ministry?' Sirius nodded,
hating that he agreed with his boss – telling the Ministry was a terrible idea. 'And did you hear the
rest?' she asked, her steady voice quavering just a little.

Sirius shook his head. 'No,' he said, his own voice was croaky, 'No – is there something more?'

'Not really,' Hermione said, 'he was just telling me that with the Ministry not being able to know
about me, muggles hunting me, and the Death Eaters too... Apparently they had word from their
spies that Voldemort has given orders to eliminate us both after you refused to help them, and that
now it'll only get worse – Moody's worried the Death Eaters are going to come after us, that they'll
put it together that we were behind his death.'

Sirius's brain had begun to work again and he said, 'Like what happened to Frank?'

Hermione nodded, 'Yes, apparently Dumbledore was worried that we will have taken their place in
Bellatrix's mind as the most likely source for information on Voldemort's whereabouts; Moody
says I have to follow the original plan, and… go...' her voice wavered again 'and… he's right
Sirius, it would be to irresponsible to stay when it could put so many people in danger.'

Sirius just nodded as defeat kicked him in the gut. He sat there holding her hand and wondering
why on earth he ever thought he could beat the system. 'Are you sure? I mean, you can give it a
week can't you? We can try and work something out. Another week won't hurt, right?'

'I don't know Sirius,' she said, 'another week… it will just make it harder, and you can't tell me
we'll be able to spend any time together – you're going to be back at work, it'll be a madhouse there
– and if I'm here people will want to talk to me... James and Lily were alright, but the whole Order
will... I mean, Moody will tell them whatever he decides to, I guess, but I just,' she shook her head,
'I think it's best if I just go.'

Sirius had known that he wasn't really lucky enough to get everything he wanted in life, but he still
felt quite pissed at whatever evil puppeteer was pulling the strings on this situation. Sirius had
helped destroy Voldemort – surely he deserved to win the girl? He reached out and pulled her over
to him; uncomfortable though it was on the cold autumn grass, with Hermione's weight on his
cross-legged lap causing his feet to go numb almost immediately, he didn't mind at all as she
wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with trembling lips before burying her face in his
shoulder. The anger inside Sirius made him hold on to her a little tighter than he would have; the
thought that he had risked bloody everything to save bloody everyone and he couldn't be granted
this one small favour bubbled furiously in his belly. He hated that after all this he was going back
to being alone – because she was right, Moody was right, it was too dangerous for her here without
an identity. She would be put in Azkaban if she stayed, and Sirius waiting twenty years to see her
again was really nothing compared to that.

'At least it worked,' Hermione said, 'James and Lily, you must be happy about that, you get to
spend your life free, and Remus has his friends for the full moon, and Harry … Harry has a mum
and dad and … fuck it Sirius I'm sorry. I should never have let you start this staying rubbish, I'm
sorry.'

A tiny chuckle escaped Sirius's lips and he was surprised he was capable of such a sound in his
present rotten state of mind. Hermione looked up at him and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch
up as he said, 'I like that you think you could have stopped me, it's funny.'

Hermione gave him a sad little smile in return. 'I shouldn't have encouraged you, then. I'm just
sorry that's all, to come in and muck about with your life.'

'I think I needed a bit of a shake up, to be honest; you certainly did that. Oh and, you know, saving
the world, that was a bit of fun.'

Her smile turned more genuine and she said, 'It was wasn't it?' She leaned in to kiss him again and
whispered, 'Will you meet me there? Please? Even if you're married or whatever, we can be … be
friends right?'

Sirius almost rolled his eyes, how many times did he have to tell her? 'Yes of course, I said I would,
and Moony, he'll be there too. Where will you arrive?'

'Here,' she said. 'I thought it's as good a place as any, and it's not like you'd ever forget where it is,
even if Lily and James move.'

'Okay,' Sirius said, 'so um …' and broke off as the finality of the whole thing came crashing down
very suddenly.

'I want to say goodbye to Remus,' Hermione continued, 'and the others, but that will be all. Could
you give my notes to Moody? He said he'll take over the responsibility, since I went and got
Dumbledore killed two decades early.'

Sirius nodded, 'Sure … I'll … of course.' This was it? She was just going to go? He looked back
toward the house to see Remus standing at the back garden gate, looking almost as upset as Sirius
felt. Moody must have told him what was going on Sirius thought. 'Come on, Moony's there, you
can say –' but his words were cut off by a fierce kiss, and Sirius didn't think Remus would mind
waiting a minute. All too soon, Hermione was pulling away and clambering to her feet; she held out
her hand to help him up but Sirius shook his head. 'I'll stay here while you…' he cleared his throat
in an effort to sound surer, 'while you say goodbye.'

'Alright,' Hermione said softly as she reached forward and patted his head, moving the hair back
from his face as she did so. Sirius gave her a tight smile and she turned away.

Sirius really wasn't at all sure how to explain the feeling settling inside him as he watched
Hermione hug Remus before they went inside; cold was really all that registered, cold and
uncomfortable, like the shivers that precede the onset of flu. He just sat there on the damp grass
feeling miserable. Sirius had thought that he had prepared himself for this outcome, that he was
ready to say goodbye if it was necessary, but he was beginning to realise that perhaps he was not as
ready as he thought. He pulled out his wand and got to his feet; turning to face the tree behind him
he began to mutter under his breath, gouging away bits of bark.

Hermione returned not long after he had stowed his wand away again, and she smiled when she
saw his defacement of the tree trunk. She gave a little nod, and stepped closer, wrapping her arms
around his waist and resting her head against his chest. 'I'm going now,' she muttered in a muffled
voice.

'I know,' Sirius said, 'it's shit.'

Hermione made an odd choked sound and mumbled, 'it really really is.'

'It's alright,' Sirius said in an effort to convince himself, 'I'll be there, you'll see me in a minute,'

Hermione sniffed and nodded, 'I know, but it won't be the same.'

'It might be,' Sirius said fighting the gloom inside him back down, 'you never know, and Moony is
standing over there so you really have to go.'

'Why?' she asked sounding a little hurt.

'Because,' he said holding on to her tighter, 'he can probably hear us, and there is no way I'm living
though twenty years of him taking the piss out of me for being a sappy git.'

'He would never,' Hermione said in a scandalised voice, looking over her shoulder at Remus, who
waved but didn't smile.

'He might,' Sirius muttered. 'I'm not willing to risk it, so,' he leaned in and kissed her on the
forehead, 'hurry up and I'll see ya soon.'

Hermione stepped back and Sirius thought that she was trying to hold back tears, but she gave a
tiny laugh and said as she fumbled with the chain around her neck, 'You know what Sirius? I
expected you to be handsome and funny and a wee bit childish, but I'm still surprised at how nice
you really are.'

Sirius wrinkled his nose and hissed, 'Shhh, Moony will hear you,' glad for the excuse to joke,
because the real reason he wanted her to go was that he felt like there were very sharp pins poking
him in the corners of his eyes and he did not want to progress to what came next.

She gave him a watery smile that did nothing to help, and said in a stage whisper, 'I think he
already knows, I'm just glad I do too.' She began to turn the bronze hourglass in her hand and Sirius
had to restrain himself from darting forward and snatching it from her. Then she raised her free
hand and wiggled her fingers in a solemn little farewell as she faded from view.

It didn't seem real at all as she slowly disappeared. Sirius was hardly aware of his motion as he
sunk back to his cross legged position on the ground when Hermione was completely gone. Sirius
sat against the tree trunk, staring at his ankles, hoping that any second she would reappear and say
"The future sucks, screw the muggles and the Ministry, I'm staying here!" but minutes passed, and
she didn't.

It wasn't long before there was a thud on either side of him as two people sat down under his tree.
James's voice said, 'Sorry mate,' and he was shaken vigorously by James's arm around his
shoulders.

'You'll be alright Pads,' Remus said, 'there'll be plenty of girls to keep you entertained while we
wait it out.' Sirius raised his head with an indignant grunt at the werewolf's seemingly insensitive
and out-of-character words, and Remus nudged Sirius's shoulder with his own and grinned, saying,
'or maybe you won't want to, you know, being so nice and all.'

'I knew you were listening,' Sirius grumbled, but he had twenty years to mope about this, and he
really didn't want to think about it, because the pointy pins were back attacking his eyes and that
was absolutely not okay. He summoned his most nonchalant voice and said, 'I bet Moody is getting
super pissed sitting in there with Lily waiting for us.'

Both James and Remus were silent for a second but accepted the change of subject without
question. 'He's talking to the Prophet,' James said, as he retracted his arm from around Sirius and
started to pick at the wet grass in front of them. 'They arrived just before I came out here.'

'I really don't want anyone to know I was involved with this yet,' Sirius said, 'or at all actually.' He
didn't want to answer questions about all the things he had done to weaken Riddle when all it
would do was remind him of Hermione. 'But Moony,' Sirius said as sudden inspiration struck him,
'you should go on record - imagine the werewolf-haters when you tell them a filthy half-breed
killed Voldemort.'

Remus grinned, and Sirius thought it was the same one he had on his own face, it looked
uncomfortable, 'I didn't though, Pads, it was Lily –'

'She doesn't want the acknowledgment,' James interrupted, 'she just wants us to live a quiet life -
she was hoping we could just say it was all you. '

Remus looked quite horrified. 'I don't really want the fame either you know. And anyway it was
the muggles, really. I held him off and Lily stunned him; neither are deadly.'

'Moony. Mate,' James said with a chuckle, 'do you really think anyone is going to care about the
mechanics once you tell them that you and I went to fight him, I got crushed by a roof,' Sirius
sniggered under his breath, and James thumped him in the arm to shut him up, 'and you cast the
killing curse and then Voldemort died? I'm sure you'll manage something much more eloquent
with curse-dodging and thinking you were about to die and such, but the reporters would have their
wonderful underdog story.' Remus rolled his eyes at the pun, but James continued, 'It will be
brilliant for the public perception of werewolves and we get to have our little life back. What do
you say?'

Remus let out a frustrated huff and said, 'You know I will, you git, but the minute I've told them
I'm going back to my place, tripling the security spell range and then I'm not leaving for a year.
And you're on tea duty for the next hundred full moons,' he added tartly. 'Pads deserves a break.'

James grinned and threw his handful of plucked up grass in Sirius's unsuspecting face before he got
to his feet. 'My pleasure. Come on, let's get inside, it's freezing out here.'

31 st October 2001

For a few moments after the confusion of flashing light and roaring echoes began to fade,
Hermione stood braced and tense against the riot of the time-turner's action, but as the colourful
blur sharpened to solid shapes of the moonlit grove around her, she started to shake. How could it
have been so easy? She was gone. She had just left him standing there – the man that had come to
mean more to her than her mission, the man that had made the whole thing possible in the first
place and had done everything he could to secure their victory – and she had just left.
How could she be so heartless? The muggles and Death Eaters might be looking for her, and she
knew Moody was right - it would be ridiculous, and put them all in danger, to just put her hand up
and say "I've broken more laws than I can count, have a head full of dangerous information and
have seriously broken the Statute of Secrecy but, hey, I also got Voldemort killed, so could you
please forgive me?" - but it still felt like she had run away without a thought for what Sirius would
be left to deal with. She had barely even said goodbye, and that would be his last memory of her,
fading away the minute she got the chance. Hermione had been caught up in the idea that she
would be seeing him straight away, not in the fact that he would be a different man no matter how
much he said he wouldn't.

Whatever Sirius had felt as she was leaving, he'd had years to adjust to it, and her face was still wet
with the tears that had trickled out as she spun the time-turner. Whatever mistakes she had made,
he'd had years to resent, and she wasn't even sure what she might have done. Whatever grand plans
they'd had together, he'd had years to reconsider; everything they'd had seemed very real, and very
good, but he'd had years to forget, and here she was, still slightly dizzy from the rush through time,
with the image of the burning Gaunt shack, and the look on Remus's face as he'd told them of
Dumbledore's fate still fresh in her mind, things that would just be old memories to Sirius.

She shook her head, trying to put the last half-hour behind her, and glad to have a moment's silence
to gather her thoughts. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, embarrassed at her panic and
imagining what Sirius would think of her blubbing, and it suddenly hit her: she was alone. No one
was waiting for her.

Hermione lit her wand and ran the light over the tree trunk – it was definitely the right one.
'31/10/81 DTV' was carved in faded letters, followed by a paw print just as she had seen moments
ago, but the pale wood of the exposed letters had grown dark and the words seemed like they were
part of the trunk. Had Sirius not been able to find it? Or had he just had more important things to
do this evening? And where was Remus? A chill swept up her spine - she had been so focused on
the possibility of staying that Sirius's promise to meet her here had seemed romantic but – until this
evening – so unnecessary it was almost irrelevant. It had been nice vague back-up plan, enough to
allay her concerns the rare times over the last few weeks that she had thought about what would
happen if she had to go back to 2001, but she had never considered what to do if he wasn't here.

They should have made a real plan she thought, annoyed with herself. Something concrete so she
could get the information she needed to ease back into this time as quietly as possible. But the
problem was that in the end, she had believed Sirius's constant assurances, and truly expected that
he would be here waiting for her. The reality of it seemed to be the one fear she had let herself
forget in her moon-eyed daze: he had moved on, and of course Hermione could hardly blame him.

Sirius had lived twenty years, her whole lifetime over again, since she had left him standing under
that tree. How could she have been so naive as to assume that he would really be here holding his
breath for her reappearance? It was unreasonable to think that their four-month relationship ran
deep enough to keep him waiting all that time, that it could be stronger than the resentment he
would surely feel at being forced to take the slow route, that it would outweigh the guilt that would
take over when he inevitably stopped missing her. It was a childish dream, the sort of thing that
would never really work. But even if Sirius was too busy, uncomfortable or just too angry at her
and the situation Hermione had forced on him, she had hoped Remus would come to meet her.
They would still be friends surely, no complicated feelings or wives to get in the way of him
coming to make sure she was okay.

Each of these worrying thoughts were like a stone, a tiny smooth pebble slipping down her throat
as she swallowed painfully and then thudding into the pit of her stomach, making her feel heavier
and heavier with each one. Were they even still alive? Had it not worked at all? Did they hate her
for leaving them? Had they been arrested for aiding a criminal? Thud, thud, thud she felt more and
more ill as the nasty ideas began to expand on themselves inside her mind. Hermione pressed the
heels of her hands against her eyes in an effort to halt the horrible stream of images, Sirius and
Remus both being dragged off to Azkaban, or being caught and tortured by Bellatrix, or being
murdered by one of the many enraged followers of Voldemort's broken tribe.

As Hermione pushed her hands harder against her eyes trying to think of anything else to distract
her, her mind found the thing that had helped her through for the last six months: fixing the past so
Harry and the Weasleys could have a better life. She was surprised that she had forgotten this so
quickly, losing sight of the one goal that had kept her moving and focused when she was so close
to finding out if it had been achieved. She took a deep breath, jolted out of her near panic by the
idea that she had let herself be so distracted at such an important moment. She let the breath whistle
out slowly and drew in another, and began to concentrate on what needed to be done. Moody had
spoken to her before she left, and he was right: if Voldemort had a plan, if his Death Eaters had
fought on without their leader then Hermione would have to return to '81 with enough information
to stop them. Part of her hoped selfishly that the Death Eaters had continued, that her mission could
carry on a little longer, that she would have a reason to return.

She made her way through the trees in the direction of the little cottage, no longer quite visible
from where she stood; the thicket was denser with two decades growth, the trunks wider and the
low-growing plants higher. She could hear music coming from the direction of the Potters' - very
familiar music, a song by the Weird Sisters that was their big hit the summer Harry and Ginny got
married, still in heavy rotation on the Wizarding Wireless Network when she left for the past. She
smiled; she'd never been really fond of it, and could only agree when Ron complained that he was
sick of hearing it during his workday at the shop, but now it was a beacon of familiarity and
"rightness". Things couldn't have gone too far wrong in the last twenty years, could they, if Myron
Wagtail was still exhorting the witches of Britain to "kiss me with the magic that needs no spell"?
As she reached the last row of trees Hermione felt her jaw drop. There were colourful strings of
lights stretching from above the back step to the trees in the yard, tables covered in food and
surrounded by people.

As the song faded out on the wireless Hermione could hear the announcer's voice over the rumble
of the Potters' guests, 'Where ever you may be in Britain tonight, however you are celebrating the
twentieth anniversary, we here at the WWN wish you a happy and safe DTV day! And remember
listeners, firewhisky and broomsticks don't mix! Here's another favourite for you this evening...'
The music started up again and Hermione couldn't help but smile. 'DTV Day' could really only
mean one thing - the war had ended twenty years ago with Voldemort's death; they had been
successful.

The pang of disappointment as Hermione realised that there was no reason for her to return was
swallowed up in thankfulness; she was relieved, just so relieved that it had worked. Hermione
watched the guests in the back garden; there were many faces she recognised, ex-Hogwarts
students and people she knew from her job at the Ministry, and the sense of continuity was
reassuring. Her stomach did a little flip as she caught sight of a messy head of black hair that could
only belong to Harry, and as he turned Hermione could see him smiling widely at Mr Weasley,
who was much less bald than Hermione remembered him being. But as familiar as the scene was,
she didn't step forward; even if they knew her and welcomed her, which wasn't guaranteed, they
certainly would not know this Hermione. It would be better to wait, to look into her new life
discreetly, she thought. She needed to see Moody. He would have all the information – but what if
he was gone, too?

'That you lass?' Hermione spun around at the soft growling voice behind her, her wand raised, to
see the familiar figure of Mad-eye Moody. His face was more lined, more worn and, with the
electric blue eye darting in every direction, much more frightening than she had seen twenty
minutes ago, but not altogether unlike the old Auror who had terrorised the Order meetings at
Grimmauld Place.

'When did you last see me?' Hermione asked quickly not lowering her wand.

Moody gave her a rather terrifying smile and said, 'Well, last time I saw you was at work yesterday,
but I think you mean when was the last time you saw me? And that would be just over there,' he
gestured to the tree with his cane, 'on Hallowe'en night 1981.' Hermione nodded, and Moody said,
'Well I guess I should do the thing properly. You and I had a little chat before you left; what did I
ask you to do?'

Hermione smiled. 'You told me to come back if things had not gone to plan with the wind-up of the
war,' Moody nodded and Hermione added, 'and not to tell Sirius because he would make sure
something went wrong so I'd have to come back - but I really don't think he would.'

'It was better to be sure,' Moody grunted, 'and I can tell you that things wrapped up as we had
hoped. It took us longer than we thought to capture the remaining Death Eaters, and Dumbledore's
death was very difficult for the public to deal with, but in the end it was fine.'

Hermione tried to smile; she was genuinely pleased that it had all worked, but she couldn't help the
disappointment that it was over, that there was nothing she needed to return to 1981 to help with.
'Mr Moody, what happened to Sirius and Remus? They promised to be here – are they…' she let
her sentence hang.

Moody understood at once. 'Sorry, it had to be only me. They're okay, great in fact - well, Lupin is,
Black's still a pain in the arse. Even though I'm only at work part time now, he still manages to
drive me up the wall. But the thing is, there's a bit more to this than we thought. Dumbledore was
meant to be here to explain everything to you but … well,' Moody rummaged in his cloak for a
moment and pulled out a large envelope. 'These should explain it well enough; Dumbledore always
thought ahead.'

'Er … thanks,' Hermione said, taking the envelope; it was very thick, almost a bundle of papers. 'Is
it all from Dumbledore?'

'No, there's a bit from me and a letter from Lady Fehr. I'm going back to the Ministry now; you can
find me there if you need to once you've read those.' He turned abruptly and began to walk away.

'Okay,' Hermione said slowly, wondering why he was so keen to get away from her. She was
reminded vaguely of the shield Remus had raised during their confession to Lily, and wondered
what kind of news could possibly be in the envelope she held. 'Mr Moody?'

'What, lass?' he asked turning back to her.

'Do they know me in there?' She pointed to the garden.

Moody smiled again, still a disquieting expression on a face like his, but seeming much kinder than
a drop-the-packet-and-run strategy might suggest, and said, 'Of course they do, but read your
letters before you go tearing in to say hello. Don't want to raise suspicion.'

'Of course,' Hermione said, still concerned with the reason Sirius or Remus hadn't come to explain
whatever it was too, if they were both alive and well as Moody suggested.

As Moody stumped away she gazed back at the group of people in the garden and felt a jolt of
sorrow and pleasure all at once as she realised the man who had just opened the back door was a
forty-year-old James Potter. If James was there, would she find Sirius or Remus, too? She watched
his path through the crowd, and couldn't help a half-laugh as Mrs Weasley appeared out of
nowhere and James seemed to duck sideways to avoid her, coming to a halt next to Harry.
Hermione's grin widened as she watched James put his arm around his son's shoulders; they were
the same height, and Harry looked exactly the same as Hermione remembered. Her smile faltered
as she realised who Harry was standing with - Ron. Of course. Who else would Harry be talking
to? But they both looked happy, so happy that Hermione felt the little cringing guilt within her
retreat. That's all she had wanted, a peaceful life for her two best friends.

She had to concentrate quite hard on staying happy for them however when a pretty girl with long
dark hair slipped out of the crowd with Ginny at her side, to join the men; Ron seemed particularly
happy to see the dark-haired girl, something that did not go unnoticed by Harry and James. Both of
them gave Ron some kind of silent man-look that caused him to turn red and take a few hasty steps
away from the girl. It must be Harry's little sister, Hermione realised as the girl rolled her eyes at
James and shoved Harry hard in the shoulder before stretching up to give a distressed-looking Ron
a kiss on the cheek. Hermione could hear Ginny's ringing laughter from where she stood, and it
was only a few seconds before James and Harry joined in as well. Obviously Harry wasn't that
upset about his sister dating Ron, though it didn't seem to be well-established enough yet that his
protectiveness had become a running joke; it would have been a bit hypocritical of him anyway as
Harry's arm was wrapped securely around Ron's little sister's waist.

Hermione wondered if Harry and Ginny were married; their wedding would have been more than a
year ago in the previous timeline but perhaps Harry wouldn't have asked her yet since he grew up
in a world without time limits and death threats, and without the need for building a family,
because his own was still here. Most normal twenty-one-year-old guys would never ask their
girlfriend to marry them - it was wonderful to think of Harry as a normal twenty-one-year-old.

Hermione looked back at the thick envelope in her hand. It was so nice to stand here and watch
them, the people she had done this for, and she didn't want it ruined by whatever Dumbledore had
thought it so important for her to know. She could see Fred and George talking with Frank and
Neville Longbottom, all breaking into fits of laughter at something one of the twins had said. There
were children racing about, darting in and out between the adults' legs, and she didn't even begin to
speculate about who their parents might be. Percy and his wife Audrey were sitting at one of the
tables in deep conversation with an older woman Hermione didn't recognise; she had short blonde
hair and seemed to find whatever Audrey was saying quite fascinating. As she scanned the crowd
she spotted Mr Weasley headed in toward the house, carrying a giggling and squirming red-haired
toddler under each of his arms. The back door opened as he reached it and Lily and Mrs Weasley
came out, levitating a huge cake covered in sparklers and bright purple icing between them, down
the steps and out into the yard. They managed to manoeuvre it out of the way as the two children
wriggled free from Arthur and charged in the direction of the massive dessert, narrowly avoiding
disaster.

Hermione knew that if she didn't get a move on, it was quite possible that she would just stand
there in the trees forever, drinking in the happy vision. She tapped the heavy envelope against her
palm - five more minutes won't hurt, she told herself as she returned her gaze to the party. It really
was a magnificent sight.
 The One Hundred and Sixty Ninth

31 st October 2001

Alastor Moody was not a man who usually regretted his actions, but as he walked through the trees
that evening, walking away from Hermione, he thought he might. To tell her such a thing in a letter
seemed cowardly, but Albus had insisted that it was the right way to do it. It had been Albus's plan
right from the start: send the girl back to the future, and meet her then with a letter that explained
everything. It had never sat well with Alastor, though; he liked to be up-front with people, but there
had been parts of the whole Granger episode where that just wasn't possible.

He'd done his best for her, and much of that skirting around the truth had been done in her favor,
but Alastor still felt as though he had let the girl down; to lie to her about the situation, to invent
reasons she had to leave had seemed cruel, especially when he knew that she would have done as
he'd asked anyway. Albus's death had been so fresh, though – not that Alastor was a stranger to
losing his compatriots, but Albus's death had an odd effect on him - and hours after his death was
too soon to start doubting his judgement. He had just never imagined the headmaster dying of
anything except old age and even after twenty years of trying to forget it, the picture of the broken
bloodied body of his long-time friend hung in his mind like he'd seen it yesterday.

He paused at the edge of the trees, and took a deep breath. His part in this task was finally over,
and he had hopes of putting some of it behind him. It wasn't like the death scene that would swim
into his mind to shock him whenever his guard was down, but other memories of Dumbledore were
just as troubling in their own way. There had been later discussions of the details and arguments
about the necessity of the plan, but it all went back to one evening two decades before.

October 16, 1981, had been a busy day all around, with an Order meeting and a mission to the
Suffolk woods, leading to the death of Edgar Bones and the loss of Alastor's eye, as well as the
capture of several nasty Death Eaters, including one whose death he still felt mildly guilty for
organising. One of the most memorable events, however, had been several hours earlier, while
Alastor sat in his customary chair in the basement room of the Hogshead, waiting for the arrival of
the rest of the Order team to arrive. At that particular moment, though, the Order was the furthest
thing from Alastor's mind. Albus Dumbledore had just told Alastor something that he was having
trouble understanding; Alastor was considering being outraged, but Albus simply continued to pace
the length of the room looking concerned.

'What do you know of alchemy Alastor?' Dumbledore asked conversationally as though he hadn't
just admitted to thieving from a kind young woman.

'The same thing everybody does,' Alastor replied brusquely, not really in the mood for Dumbledore
and his tangents this evening. 'It's the study of turning metal to gold and producing the elixir of life,
but what does that have to do with this? I can't believe you would steal from the girl Albus, it's not
like you.'

Dumbledore's moustache trembled as he lowered his head, 'I'm afraid it is very like me Alastor - I
will do whatever it takes to secure us a victory in this war. Alas, procuring Miss Granger's device
without her knowledge is one of the less deplorable things I have done in my life.' The old wizard
paused and pulled the timeturner from beneath his robes; the bronze hour glass swung almost
hypnotically from the headmaster's finger, its metallic sand glinting with a reddish glow in the light
from the gas lamps around the walls. 'This is something miraculous Alastor,' Dumbledore said as
the timeturner continued to swing back and forth, 'a device that was designed to travel through
time, that protects the user as they move not only back, but across time. This, my friend, is the
creation of a genius.'

Alastor glowered at Dumbledore. 'Enough of the riddles - what do you mean, it travels across
time?'

'I have been working with my friend Nicolas Flamel for many years, you know he is the only man
in history to succeed in the primary goals of alchemy? The two most famous goals, as you said:
turning metal to gold and concocting the elixir of life by way of the philosophers' stone.'

'I really don't see what that has to do with this,' Alastor said beginning to drum his fingers on the
table top, he might respect Albus but the man had definite issues when it came to sticking to one
train of thought, or heaven forbid – giving a full explanation.

'I suppose you don't.' The Headmaster smiled annoyingly, and continued, 'I'm sure you understand
the basic principles of the production of the stone. The first forays into alchemy early this
millennium led scholars to believe that every metal was a combination of the four elements - fire
which was both hot and dry, earth being cold and dry, water which was cold and moist, and air
which was hot and moist - and the differences between metals were because of the arrangement of
the four elements, with two elements making up the interior of the metal and two the exterior.
From this, those reasonable men deduced that the transmutation of one metal into another could be
effected by the rearrangement of its basic qualities. This change would presumably be mediated by
a substance; hence the goal to create a substance that could achieve this.'

'Yes Dumbledore,' Alastor said impatiently and slightly sarcastically, 'I understand the draw of as
much gold and life as you want - I think everyone on earth does - but why is it relevant to this?
That is a timeturner not a stone.'

'Well as you realise, the line of thinking involving four elements making up all metals is beautiful
but sadly incorrect. But it was the right place to start; muggle alchemy deviated from magical when
the discovery was made that all metals are made up of elements and minerals - just many, many
more than four - and as understanding increased, and with the proper ingredients, environment and
magical applications the philosopher's stone was suddenly a reality. Nicolas will not share the final
secrets with me, as he and I both believe that one stone in this world is quite enough, but when I
showed him this,' he flicked the dangling hourglass, 'he was shocked and concerned that another
person was on their way to creating a stone of their own.'

'Right, but once again that is a timeturner, not a stone.' Alastor wondered how the man would react
to a quick jab to his kneecap with his walking stick; he was sure Albus was being deliberately
annoying.

'Ah, you see what you expect to see,' Albus said with a twitch of his moustache and a quick step
backwards as though he had read Alastor's mind. 'The philosophers stone is the final stage of the
alchemical creation. Before it reaches the hard red form that gives it its name it is a powder, red in
colour and sand-like in texture.'

'Are you telling me Granger filled her timeturner with … with what? Philosophers dust?' the Auror
asked in confusion.

'I suppose one could call it that, yes, among other ingredients.' Dumbledore said, raising the
hourglass to the light. 'The sand in a Ministry-issued timeturner is powerful enough, and Miss
Granger risked a great deal to get this device to work.'

'I get that it's dangerous, but Albus you're still not really making sense; that little hourglass contains
time-travel sand and the powder form of the philosopher's stone – what are you trying to tell me?'

'You will remember I told you in the summer why such decades-long time travel as Miss Granger
made is impossible?'

If he took another step closer he would be within jabbing distance, Alastor thought, annoyed at the
patronising tone. 'Yes,' he grunted, 'Because time does not exist as a line, but a series of parallel
lines caused by the decisions we make, going back further than twelve hours - or twenty-four at
most - is impossible. The timeturner is unable to lock on to one path because there are too many
similar scenarios to choose from.'

'Exactly,' Dumbledore nodded, 'time is much more like a tree; every action, every decision we
make starts a new branch, and we continue along our chosen line happily, usually without
knowledge of the other branches growing along beside us; it is, I believe, where the sensation of
deja vu comes from, that we have quite literally seen it before, on a different branch but our minds
cannot quite keep up. The thing that intrigued me the most when I first met Miss Granger was not
only that her timeturner had no problem with choosing among many versions of the past, but that
the few wizards in history who have tried such travel have all died; the human body does not seem
to be able to cope with the shift to another branch of the past. As you know I wondered at first if
she was entirely human.'

Moody snorted to himself, he had thought Dumbledore had lost his marbles the first time they had
broached this topic together, the night he had met Granger for the first time and seen the memories;
it still irked him a little that Albus hadn't warned him what he would be seeing, but the man had
always enjoyed the more dramatic side of life.

Dumbledore smiled, 'You know I had to exhaust every possible option Alastor. It is the only way
when dealing with the unknown.'

'Of course,' Alastor grunted.

'It was essential, though you may think reprehensible, to get the timeturner to test – these tests are
really the only way to find out how Miss Granger managed to make it work. It is a truly fascinating
object, but the real purpose is to know if it would be safe for her to use again or if she would just
end up in another random version of the future, with no correlation to the history she knew or the
one she is building here. Nicolas and I have worked almost endlessly on this for the last week and
have drawn several conclusions. Nicolas has done significant research into time travel, as well as
his alchemy work, you know; in the beginning he thought that if he could move from one path or
branch to another he would be able to follow the one that led to his completing of the stone, but it
proved fruitless - which I would have told him had I been born, in fact at that point I don't believe
my mother was even born, so he –'

'Albus,' Moody interrupted, 'you're getting off topic again.'

'Indeed, your forgiveness?' he said with a little bow. 'The facts we have are these: it is impossible
for the human body to move sideways through time, it is normally deadly to travel long spans, and
a normal timeturner is not capable of deciding which line of the past to settle on - but as you know
there was no doubting Miss Granger's successful travel once I had seen her memories. So Nicolas
and I began to meet regularly and he developed an idea that involved his two most consuming
obsessions, the life-preserving power of the philosopher's stone and time travel. We did reach a
firm answer on how her timeturner was able to choose a destination: a combination of using bronze
instead of gold as the conducting metal and using twice as the normally required amount of dunite
sand. For some reason those two elements made the timeturner much more stable, though even she
said to me that her calculations suggest it would not go back further than twenty five years. Nicolas
has managed to complete her work – not that she knew it was unfinished - by adding ground silver
to the sand mixture; he is sure that it will keep the device locked on this branch of time when she
uses it again to go forward.

'We have not yet come do a definite conclusion, however, concerning how she managed to survive
the trip; is past success any guarantee she will arrive in the future alive when it is used again? If
she could not safely leave this time, that would be a serious thing indeed. Nicolas and I believe that
the powdered precursor form of the philosopher's stone kept her alive on the journey, though
whether she died and was brought back over and over again during the time of travel, or she was
just unable to be touched because of its protection we can't be sure.'

'But I thought you had to drink the elixir to become immortal, or to preserve life?'

'Very good Alastor,' Dumbledore said in what Alastor considered to be a rather patronising and
insulting tone. At least he didn't award house points out of habit. 'Yes, that is usually the case;
however, Nicolas found that the magic that is conducted by the chain of the timeturner, which as
always must encircle the time traveller, is quite sufficient to extend the life-preserving quality of
the stone around the traveller too. The elixir, like the chain, is merely a conduit from the stone to
the user; one could imagine testing...' he broke off, perhaps because Alastor was fidgeting with his
walking-stick. 'Simply put, I have not tested this theory as much as I would have liked. We were on
a time limit you see, as I want return it to Mr Lupin today; he grows very impatient with me. If
Nicolas's experiments return any dire implications I will just have to take it back.'

'I really don't like this Albus. They trust you.'

'I don't know that Mr Lupin does any more; he seems to resent that I asked this of him.'

Alastor didn't reply for a moment. He couldn't blame the lad; he would have been quite pissed,
himself, if Albus had asked him to do such a thing – but then he would probably told Albus to
bugger off. 'So what do you plan to do now? She can't leave this branch of time - are you going to
tell her that the world she left is lost to her? All her friends all that drove her to do this in the first
place are still there, unable to be helped.'

'You cannot think of it that way Alastor,' Dumbledore said with a touch of impatience, 'it will drive
you mad to think of all the things that could have been if you had made a different choice.' Alastor
nodded but he couldn't help the feeling that Granger would share his views. 'There is a good side to
this you realise?'

'And what is that?'

'That we needn't worry about training the Miss Granger who was born in this path of time, because
the one who has come here with a plan comes from somewhere entirely different.'

'That's true,' Alastor said slowly, this was something he had been concerned about; there was no
doubt that the Granger that fought Death Eaters and was tough enough to deal with MI5 was a
decent ally, but the one who was two years old would hopefully have a peaceful life and therefore
be an average twenty one year old girl – totally unsuited to the task that they would try to ready her
for. But this, though disheartening for the Granger that knew the orphan Harry was some of the
best news Alastor could have hoped to receive. 'I suppose you're right, so how do you want to
proceed then?'

'I think the best thing to do will be to send her to two-thousand one, now that her timeturner is
locked to this direct branch, and she can make sure that the war finished as we hoped, and that we
succeeded in creating a plausible identity for her, then she can return.'
'Albus, are you sure?' Alastor asked, feeling a little horrified that Dumbledore could be so calm
about this.

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, 'Not at all, but Nicolas is continuing to develop his
hypothesis, and he is confident he will reach a conclusion soon.'

'It's a big risk to take,' Moody said warily. They really had no guarantee that she wouldn't just
vanish. True, they needed for her to come back so they could be sure it had all gone to plan, that all
the Death Eaters were caught, that no one else was hurt, but was that worth asking her to risk her
life again?

'I am aware of that.' Dumbledore replied calmly.

Alastor began to beat a quiet rhythm with his cane against the leg of the table as he thought it
through. It would be worth the risk to get more information, and Granger was dedicated to her
mission and would co-operate without a fuss; she had taken a worse risk travelling here with her
device before Nicolas had modified it. Dumbledore had as usual come to right conclusion, much to
Alastor's annoyance. 'You're right though, it's for the best,' he admitted.

'Indeed.' Dumbledore said sombrely with a reluctant nod of his head.

Alastor continued to tap a thoughtful cadence as he considered the downsides to Albus's plan. The
girl was here to fix her world, but she had left that world completely when she came "back", so all
her work here would leave that timeline completely untouched; when she realised that she not only
didn't help the friends she grew up with, but abandoned them, she would be heartbroken. And then
there was Black - he would awfully put out when they told him that they were sending Granger
back and they weren't entirely sure if she would be all right or not. 'Black will not be happy.'
Alastor muttered to himself.

'He will understand, it's much better to be safe,' Dumbledore said hesitantly, and Alastor knew he
didn't believe it any more than he himself did.

'And the girl? She'll be devastated,' Alastor insisted, slightly irritated that Dumbledore didn't seem
to grasp the impact this was going to have on the two younger people. 'You're telling them, not me,'
he added grumpily.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. 'We will wait until the day - let them be happy for now.'

'You're too soft Albus, they should know,' Alastor said, thinking that it was ridiculous to try and
protect them from something that no-one couldn't change.

'It could affect their determination – we need everything to go to plan.' Dumbledore said.

Alastor realised that for once he was the one at fault for putting feelings before the more important
goal, but he wasn't convinced. It just seemed foolish to lump this on the pair at the very end - there
was no way to know how they would react and Black was not the most rational person when it
came to unpleasant situations. A bit of preparedness might do them good, but there were still two
weeks to go, and he'd try again with Albus later. In the meantime, there were more pressing
matters, like the child called Hermione Granger in this time. 'Right,' Alastor said, 'And the other
one?'

'I will see to that this week,' Dumbledore replied. At the time Alastor had had no idea what
Dumbledore planned to do with the Granger child, but it turned out he had simply sent them away.
He had gone to their house in Kensington, performed a very strong memory charm, and given them
false muggle travel documents; he sent them to live in Australia under the name Wilkins, which
Dumbledore had told him, was what Hermione had done to keep her parents safe in 1997. With
Dumbledore's charms they would be able to live a good and safe life in the small New South Wales
town of Murwillumbah and their daughter could grow up without anyone recognising her as
"Hermione Fehr" and ruining the whole thing.

'When are the others getting here?' Alastor asked, getting to his feet. He wanted to move on to the
next order of business; this whole double-bluff just didn't sit right, and he was sure it would
backfire somehow.

'Should be any time,' Dumbledore said, with a glance at his pocket watch.

Alastor made his way to the door, but before he could reach it there was a quick knocking. When
Alastor unlatched the heavy door and pulled it open, he was presented with the sight of a pale and
worried-looking Remus Lupin. 'Lupin,' Alastor greeted him, taking in his wary demeanour, 'good.
Did you bring Black?' He leaned out into the corridor to see if there was anyone else, but Lupin had
been alone.

It hadn't been until a few years later that Lupin had admitted that he had overheard the
conversation, and that he had greatly regretted not telling his friends about it.

Alastor shook himself out of the recollection; he had stopped a good distance away from
Hermione, but his magical eye could still see her standing in the trees closest to the house. After a
few moments she began moving deeper into the thicket, found a suitable spot and sat on the
ground, her lit wand held in her teeth as she tore open the package Alastor had delivered.

Hermione could barely focus as she finished reading the letter from Dumbledore, written the day
that still felt like "yesterday" to her, in October 1981. She was struggling to comprehend what this
meant, that she had created a partial philosopher's stone without knowing it, which enabled her
timeturner to go back so much further than any other she had researched. Dumbledore's implication
that she had moved in time in a way never done before had her flummoxed - all his metaphors of
the tree of time and its many branches seemed like a load of rubbish to her, but then it did explain
the slight differences she had noticed – like James's cloak not being given to Dumbledore at the
right time though she and Sirius had not done anything to change it - but even with the little
indicators like that, she still had trouble wrapping her tweaking brain around it.

The thing that was causing her main disorientation, however, had nothing to do with how her time-
travel did or did not function - the absence of Sirius and Remus. She just couldn't believe that they
would have forgotten that she would be arriving tonight, no matter what had happened in the
intervening years. So something or someone was keeping them away. She picked up the envelope
again and upended it into her lap, looking for an explanation. There was a neatly folded letter on
white parchment - she guessed it was from Frederica - and a sheaf of papers in narrow loopy
handwriting that matched Dumbledore's letter, wrapped up with another note. She picked up the
letter from Frederica first, wanting a little bit of comfort before dealing with more of Dumbledore's
problems. This was from "last week", or more accurately October 2001; establishing a personal
timeline in her head was going to be a challenge, Hermione thought.

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry for the deception Schatz, but Dumbledore insisted that I tell you my identity for you had
failed. He was unaware of our little plan until the very end, and though we were close to success,
he was adamant that you must believe you were leaving for good. Alastor Moody and I have
discussed this many times since Albus passed and we are yet to come up with a reason – other than
he did not want you to hope you would be returning.

I am happy to say that you can hope. I did find a way to convince my brother to lend a hand on
your behalf, though it will take some effort from you – Alastor thought it best for your safety if you
join me in Zurich while the Ministry re-organises itself in Britain, and this will also be a good time
for you to meet my brother and assure him that he is doing the right thing by risking the family
name for you. You are to assume the identity you have used during your original stay in '81: my
daughter. I hope you find this satisfactory. Remus assures me that it will give you everything you
needed - the ability to work for the Ministry, and independence, if it is required.

Alastor made me promise not to tell you to much about the future when I wrote this, and I found it
very difficult because there is so much I wish you to know. I will keep your own path to myself for
now but I think you have the right to know about your old friends, for your peace of mind – Harry
and Ron did get what you hoped. They have had very average lives, with no death threats (other
than from their mothers for general misbehaviour) or lost friends. But even with this peaceful life
Harry still always wanted to be an Auror and is about to start his third year of training, though
with a father and godfather both in the job it probably shouldn't surprise us at all. Ron has also
found his way into the Ministry, working in the Magical Games and Sports department. This is
something that made you quite happy I think, although you do understand when young Flora
complains that her boyfriend's jobencourages him to talk about Quidditch. I think Harry is a little
jealous of his best friend's career – much to your amusement.

That is all I will say or Alastor will be grumpy with me, and not let me put this in the package. Your
own future is here waiting for you to get back, and it is a good one. You and I see each other on a
regular basis; I think I've spent more time in England than at home over the last twenty years. Your
friends are truly wonderful, a real family.

Much love,

Frederica.

Hermione read the letter again, drinking in the words. Ron had a job at the Ministry? And it was
one he would love, really perfect for him. Hermione couldn't help but sympathise with "young
Flora" as Frederica called her - Ron had been obsessed enough with Quidditch without it being his
career, and Hermione didn't like to imagine how much worse he would be when he was getting
paid for it. She felt a little smile unfurl on her face as she thought how he would excel at it, how
different it was from everything his brothers did, how the Weasley boys and Harry would surely all
envy his connections and possible ability to get free match tickets - Ron would be on top of the
world. Whatever Dumbledore said about different branches of time, to know this Harry and Ron
had what they wanted in life made the rest of the confusion easier to bear.

Hermione refolded Frederica's letter, still unable to believe that she was going to get a chance at the
life she had been glimpsing for the last month. She was going to be able to apply for a job in the
Ministry, she could endeavour to make changes to magical creatures rights twenty years earlier –
even if she had less influence without her war hero status, she would still be making a start, and
that was definitely something to be happy about. She turned her attention to the collection of
papers covered in Dumbledore's handwriting; there were a lot of them all neatly stacked and bound
up in string. There was a note attached to the top of the pile in a much squarer and scratchier hand,

Granger,

These are Albus's notes on your little gizmo – do with them as you see fit. I thought it only fair you
had all the information since you're the one who invented it. Also find attached a list of the names
and locations we arrested the remaining Death Eaters.
I want to apologise for sending you here without the whole story. Albus thought that it was better
for you to believe you would be going forever. I want you know that I disagreed with him on this
and was still planning on arguing my point; but that night, when he was suddenly gone I didn't
want to take the risk of telling you everything in case he had another reason that he didn't see fit to
share with me. We needed you to come to the future so that we'd be able to confirm that everything
and everyone was safe, which they are, and that your identity had been a success. Frederica did
excellent work on that front.

For my part, I have cleared your name with MI5; they are no longer searching for the agent
Hermione Granger, as she was found dead on the bank of the Thames in October 1981. You are
probably aware that someone under polyjuice potion does not revert to their natural form when
they die; we had a mortally wounded Death Eater in our cells at the Ministry injured in the same
raid that took my eye. She was a foul woman, refused to be treated at St Mungo's because they
employ muggleborns, and with a badly infected cursed wound, she was going to die anyway, so I
seized the chance, and dosed her with polyjuice potion right up until the end. I guess I'm lucky that
Black doesn't change his clothes, or that you had far more hair than the average girl .

It is safe for you to return, though it will be best if you stay in Zurich until after Christmas, for your
own safety. I hope you can understand my hesitation to go against Albus's wishes; you just never
knew with that man – it was always better to obey just in case.

– A. Moody.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what surprised her more in the letter from Moody, that he would
apologise so easily or that he would admit that he had done something wrong in the first place. She
was flattered that he had done something as risky as smuggling a dying Death Eater out of the
Ministry just to clear her name with the muggles, but then Sirius had told her many times that
Moody seemed to like her more than anyone else, so perhaps he genuinely wanted her to stick
around. It looked like she would be in Switzerland for a while, and she was glad enough of that –
she'd be free to go outside without having to face the reporters and their questions, not to mention
any stray Death Eaters that were yet to be caught by the Ministry.

The last thing left lying in her lap was a slip of parchment, folded in half; the handwriting that
covered the outside looked a lot like her own, though the phrases cut off where the slip had been
torn from a larger document. Unfolding it she recognised the hand inside at once, neat and well
taught,

Stop reading and come back woman, I'll tell you everything. Or actually I think you tell me most of
it, I can't remember, it was ages ago but that's beside the point. Hurry up!

Mr Ogden x

Hermione laughed out loud. Whatever happened between her and Sirius over the "next" twenty
years, it was obvious that they were still friends; it made her feel a lot better to know that.
Hermione began to fumble with the chain around her neck, her smile getting wider and wider as she
did so. She was going back, they had found a way for her to stay, she could be with Sirius and even
if it didn't work, she still got to keep him as a friend. That was enough to buoy her up after the
incredibly confusing letter from Dumbledore.

The now-familiar swirl of colour and roar of noise surrounded Hermione once more, but this time
she barely noticed - all she could think was that they had succeeded, and she was finished. The
worrisome ideas from Dumbledore nudged away at the edges of her brain but she couldn't let it
take root, not yet, not while she was alone. To comprehend what it all really meant she would need
time, and though Dumbledore had insisted she could not dwell on choices that could have been
made or the fact that she had left her intended path for this one, she knew she would. But she was
going back and she would have her friends to help her understand when she brought those facts out
to examine.

31 st October 1981

The first thing Hermione noticed when the world reformed around her was a figure, sitting on the
ground, his lit wand tracing patterns in the air like a child with a sparkler on bonfire night – Sirius.
He seemed to be too completely focused on his glowing wand to notice her appearance. Hermione
took a few steps closer and said softly, 'Er, so it turns out I –' but the rest of her sentence was lost to
Sirius's loud expletive as he jumped in shock and scrambled to his feet.

'You're … you're,' he stuttered, pulling her into a tight hug, 'didn't it work?' He didn't wait for an
answer but asked in the same dazed voice, 'Why are you here? Is Voldemort back?'

Hermione would have liked very much to answer him and say "no everything is fine and I'm here
to stay" but he was pressing her face so tightly against him she could barely breathe let alone speak.
In the end she resorted to pinching his side since he was showing no signs of relinquishing his grip.

'Ouch,' he said, loosening his hold, 'what was that for?'

'Suffocation,' Hermione said quietly, smiling at him. 'Everything is okay,' she continued, 'Riddle is
gone, I've got instructions from Moody on where the Death Eaters were captured and,' she looked
up at him, it was so dark in the trees she could really only see the glint of teeth or eye when he
moved, 'it's alright. I can stay.' Hermione didn't need to see his face to know the expression it wore;
she could almost hear the stunned look. 'Is that okay with you?' She asked, unsure for the first time.

'Yeah,' he croaked, 'yeah, of course, but how? Frederica and Moody, they –'

'They lied!' she said indignantly, then explained, 'They lied so that I would go back and check.
Dumbledore seemed to think it was the right thing to do, although I get the impression that no-one
else was all that happy about it. But it doesn't matter why, I'm back and once we see Moody we'll
be able to move on.' Hermione couldn't bring herself to mention the rest of the story, because at
that moment, being held with near-crushing force and hearing the relieved and completely jubilant
laughter coming from Sirius, she felt much less confused about the whole situation. He would help
her, and besides, with the image of Harry and Ron surrounded by their happy families still burning
cheerfully in her mind it was awfully hard to feel like they hadn't succeeded as fully as she had
hoped. Her thoughts were interrupted when suddenly Sirius's lips were pressed firmly against hers
and the rest of the niggling worries in her mind were chased away temporarily.

The kiss was reminiscent of the one at the Gala two months ago, the one that had made Hermione
realise her feelings in the first place; the tree trunk pressing painfully into her back barely
registered as she struggled to remind herself that they were in full view of the Potters' back yard.
There was quite a lot she still had to tell Sirius - her identity, that Moody a let a Death Eater die to
clear her name with MI5, that she needed to go to Zurich - but it just didn't seem that important as
her hand snuck beneath his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back and pull him closer. Even though
she had kissed Sirius goodbye less than an hour ago, this time it seemed much more urgent, and he
was holding her closely, like he was afraid if he moved away she would vanish again. She wound
the fingers of her other hand in his hair and didn't let go – until a stunned voice said, 'Normally I
wouldn't interrupt – on purpose – but I sort of need to know I'm not imagining this.' Sirius pulled
back and turned to look at Remus who was standing nearby, looking somewhat stunned, and
blinking as though each time he closed his eyes the scene before him might change.
'I'm here, Remus,' Hermione said. 'Moody met me when I arrived there and it turns out they just
wanted to check that all had gone to plan – Frederica's letter was just to make sure I left.'

'I wondered,' Remus said, sounding vague and confused. 'When I talked to her on Monday she
thought Faustus was going to agree; it seemed so close, but I didn't want to tell you until it was
definite.' He blinked rapidly and asked in a slightly ominous tone, 'I'm guessing Dumbledore made
her do it?'

'He did,' Hermione agreed, manoeuvring herself out from between Sirius and the tree; she smiled at
the disgruntled expression on Sirius's face and took his hand as she continued the conversation.
'Dumbledore only found out about our plan with Frederica a couple of days ago; apparently he and
Moody had been working on something of their own. But I suppose it doesn't matter now – I'd
rather stay Hermione Fehr than have to learn a whole new person's life.'

'That's true,' Remus said, a ridiculously wide grin growing on his face, then suddenly he lunged
forward and Hermione was engulfed in werewolf arms and Remus said quietly, 'Thank Merlin,
twenty years? I didn't think I could handle him for that long - it's only been an hour and I was
already at a loss.' He laughed in relief and spun her around; Hermione's hand was pulled from
Sirius's grip and her feet left the ground with the force. She giggled at his happiness – and her own.
A giddy lightheaded rush of possibility was taking over her mind, and it eclipsed everything else;
with these two to help her, everything would be fine.

'Okay,' Sirius said a little impatiently as Hermione and Remus continued to hold on to each other
sniggering quietly. Remus smiled at his friend and then retracted his arms, still grinning broadly.
Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen him looking so happy. Sirius seemed to notice to because he
said, 'I get why I'm grinning like a fool Moony, but what's made you so pleased? It's like your tea
face.'

'Tea face?' Hermione asked, but both men ignored her.

'It's just that with Hermione as Miss Fehr she'll get a position at the Ministry no problem, and then
everyone wins - even me for once,' Remus finished softly.

Hermione couldn't really read the expression on Sirius's face, but in the light of their lit wands he
looked almost guilty, though she couldn't understand why that would be. He clapped his friend on
the shoulder, and said quietly, 'It's about time mate, though I think people might be a bit more
approving of you now no matter what – having saved the world with your fierce duelling skills.'
Remus shook his head a little bashfully, and Sirius continued, 'Wait till Skeeter gets her talons on
this – "Ministry Shunned Werewolf Turned Saviour of the Wizards of Britain" she'll be telling
everyone how you hunted down Snakey and fought him to the death, brought your crushed-by-roof
friend back to life and saved the muggles of Godric's Hollow from a terrible fate, all with baby
Harry asleep in your arms.'

Remus snorted, 'Yes, and that is why I'm going home as soon as possible.'

'You should come to Zurich with me,' Hermione said as the idea struck her. 'I know Frederica
would love to have you, and it would keep you away from the press.'

'Er … Zurich?' Sirius asked sharply.

Hermione grimaced - she probably should have mentioned it to Sirius before inviting people along.
'I have to go and meet the Fehrs before Faustus will sign the paperwork,' she said apologetically,
'and it will keep me safe while everything is tidied up here.'
'But … so you're leaving again already?' Sirius asked bitterly.

'It won't be for long,' Hermione said quickly, 'a couple of months, and I'm sure you can come and
visit.'

'I guess,' Sirius said, obviously unconvinced and put out that she was leaving again so soon, 'and it's
just so they'll agree to go along with the story and to keep you safe right? You're not going to
decide you want to stay there?'

Hermione was glad that is was dark enough to hide the little satisfied smile on her face as she
realised Sirius was just as unsure about all of this as she was. 'Yes,' she said, 'my German is terrible
I could never live there, and you know … I'd miss you, so I'll be back.'

'Good,' Sirius said with a nod.

'It is,' she agreed. 'So what do you say Remus, do you want to come on a Swiss holiday?' Hermione
asked turning back to face him, but Remus was nowhere to be seen.

'I think he thought we were going to argue - he made a pretty hasty exit.' Sirius grinned, pulling her
back towards him again, and said, 'So now that were alone again…'

But Hermione stepped quickly away. 'Let's go and see the others, then go home.' She smiled and
added suggestively, 'I don't have to leave until at least tomorrow afternoon.'

'Okay,' Sirius said but his own smile faltered, 'that's good, because you also need to come with me
to explain everything to Grandfather.'

'Er, why?' Hermione asked. She knew Sirius wanted to tell Pollux what they had been doing these
last few months but she was quite surprised it would take precedence over other, more enjoyable
activities on a list of things important to Sirius.

'Well,' he said slowly, 'he sort of made me promise that I would, and I had to sign this contract
thing that said if I was lying about any of it he would take everything I owned, like everything,' he
finished in a slightly horrified tone.

'What?' Hermione asked, she knew Pollux was a conniving fellow but to send his own grandson –
not to mention heir – into poverty seemed extreme. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Cause I thought it would give you another reason to leave,' Sirius admitted quietly, the humour of
a moment ago vanishing completely.

'But how would my leaving help? I mean, it would be better for me to help you tell him surely.'

'Yeah, but our relationship was part of it, and you're named as Hermione Fehr, so…' he shrugged,
'it would have come out eventually.'

'I still don't see how leaving would have helped… unless you told him we just broke up so I went
home.' She raised her lit wand a little higher so she could see his face; it seemed a bit odd for him
to worry about something as frivolous as money, since he had a good job and his grandfather
wouldn't be able to take his wages as well.

Sirius shrugged again and didn't quite meet her eyes as he said, 'Just thought you might not want to
stay if you knew I'd be just scraping by.'

'You're an idiot,' Hermione said fondly. She knew it was terrible of her to be pleased at yet another
proof of Sirius's uncertainty, but it just made her feel better that they both worried about the same
things, and neither of them was blindly leaping into things. She snatched his hand and pulled him
in the direction of the Potters' garden gate as she added, 'We have each other, and it's not like we
have kids to feed – money or not we'd be just fine.'

As Sirius followed her into the back garden, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if DTV Day
parties would become an annual tradition on this site from next year, she hoped they would, the
idea of seeing everybody together and knowing that it was because of her and Sirius and Remus
that they were there made her smile and feel a little warmer in the cold October evening. When
they reached the pool of light at the back step Hermione turned back. 'I don't want to just walk in, it
feels a bit strange after saying goodbye –' but she cut off abrubtly as she took in his appearance
properly for the first time since she returned. 'Why do you have grass in your hair?' she asked, quite
amused at the sight of Sirius's usually untidy – but generally free of lawn clippings – hair smattered
with what looked like thin green confetti.

Sirius shook his head and little bits of green fell free, 'I forgot,' he said with a half grin, and ruffled
the black locks with his hands to get the last blades loose, 'I think it was Prongs's weird way of
trying to cheer me up.' He frowned for a second, and said in a puzzled voice, 'Not sure how it was
supposed to work though, and they just left me sitting out there by myself anyway.' Then he
shrugged again, and said with a proper smile, 'Doesn't matter now I guess.'

'Why did you?' Hermione asked, 'Stay out here I mean.'

'Cause The Prophet was inside,' he said with an uncomfortable look on his face. 'I didn't want to
talk to anyone yet. Moony's taking all the credit for what happened here - Lily doesn't want Harry
raised with a famous mother, says she's scared it would turn his head.'

Hermione snorted quietly, 'God, he was only Britain's most famous baby and he still didn't think
much of himself, but if Lily and Remus are both happy with that, then why not?' She paused for a
second wondering if she should mention what she had seen, 'I … um, saw them –' she started
hesitantly.

'What! Did you talk to them?' Sirius looked almost panicked, 'I don't think that was –'

'No no,' she assured him, 'they had no idea I was there,' then narrowed her eyes a little and said
shrewdly, 'by the way, you weren't there to meet me like you promised.'

'What?' Sirius said again in a totally different voice as his eyebrows contracted with concern, 'er …
I'm sorry?' He stuttered uncertainly.

'I think Moody must have made you stay away because he knew I wouldn't be staying long
anyway,' she said with a chuckle and kiss to his cheek in an effort to ease his worried expression,
'But that's not the point - there was a party here, and I saw James and Harry, lots of the Weasleys
too; it was so wonderful, they all looked so happy.' She just couldn't bring herself to mention the
rest of Dumbledore's confusing information about the tree of time and all its possible avenues; it
made her head hurt and she couldn't do anything to change it. At that moment she just wanted to
see a laughing baby Harry with his parents as Hallowe'en became All Saints Day and to know that
Voldemort was gone from this world forever.
 Epilogue

14 th May 1982

Hermione sighed and crossed out half her last sentence for the third time, then glared at the page
and went back to circle a few words that may have been worth keeping. She was having real
trouble getting the wording right on this week's piece of legislation; it was frustrating, but
realistically, it was only ten in the morning and Hermione was well ahead of schedule. She put
down her quill and stretched her arms above her head, with a faintly concerned frown at the
popping noise that echoed from her right shoulder.

She leaned back in her chair to see out the open door into the office across the narrow hall. 'Remus,'
she hissed across the silence of the corridor. 'Remus!' There was a creaking of another chair tilting
back and the werewolf's face appeared in the doorway.

'What?' he whispered back. Hermione tapped her watch and then gave the mug on her desk a
significant look, and Remus grinned. 'Your work ethic is shocking - we've only been here for an
hour.'

'I know, but this is killing me,' she wheedled. 'Come for a walk?'

'Only if you distract next door so she doesn't see me. She's driving me up the wall with her rubbish
on Umgubular Slashkilters - I don't even know what they are,' he said, his eyes wide at the
madness of their colleague. 'And she keeps asking me out,' he added in a slightly disconcerted tone.

Hermione snorted. She'd prefer to avoid their neighbour also - she'd been after Hermione to write a
twenty page summary on the creatures to help her convince Gamp to begin a public awareness
project, a task she'd ducked so far – but Remus had worse reasons for avoiding Lyscanda. 'No one
knows what they are. I keep telling her that it's best that way, because wizards can't be trusted to
treat animals with respect, but frankly I'm not helping her with public awareness of something that
doesn't exist.'

She could hear Remus snickering to himself as he collected some form of distraction for Lyscanda,
but when he popped up in the doorway again, his face was all business. He looked up and down
the hallway with the air of a man on a top secret mission and, with exaggerated movements, snuck
into Hermione's little office and pulled a file from under his robe. 'Give her this,' he said, 'it will
keep her busy while I sneak past. Honestly she's nice enough but if she asks me out one more time I
will actually say something mean.'

'Now, I don't know about that,' Hermione said, 'didn't you tell her last time that her interest in rare
magical creatures made you wonder about her true intentions?'

'Yes, but she thought I was joking! It's so frustrating – couldn't get a girl for years and now I've got
a steady supply of absolute nutters. I wish you'd just tell me who I married the first time, and then I
could find her.'

Hermione scrunched up her face. She was quite uncomfortable with the idea of her friend knowing
that Sirius's nine-year-old cousin was once Remus's future bride. Hermione was genuinely unsure
about the best course of action when it came to Remus and his confusing love life; things had
changed. With everyone knowing about his furry little problem now, he didn't have that as an
excuse to break off his relationships; now his issue was that women seemed to want him out of
fascination, the risk of being with a "dangerous" man – a phrase that made Hermione giggle every
time she heard it. Remus was basically the most un-dangerous person she had ever met, although,
if you wanted to identify sources of risk, he obviously had quite the fear of commitment.

'And I keep telling you, you do not want to know,' Hermione said firmly. 'Just trust me – or I'll tell
Lyscanda that you're just playing hard to get.' She checked her refection in the mirror that hung on
the back of the door, with only a slight blink. She had returned from Switzerland with short blonde
hair, after being manhandled by Frederica's stylist to make her less obvious to the muggles as the
dead spy with the long dark bushy hair; that was months ago now, and it almost felt normal. For the
first month without her curly tresses her head had felt too light on her shoulders and there were
moments in the odd state between sleeping and waking that she would forget and have a minor
panic attack that she had gone bald in the night. Sirius seemed to approve, though it was mainly
because of the reduction in nocturnal hair related asphyxiation. Hermione didn't mind the change
so much anymore – it made her feel a bit more grown-up to have a stylish short haircut rather than
the previous schoolgirl-esque mop.

'Come on then,' Remus said, smiling at her in the reflection and waving his tea mug temptingly -
but he was interrupted by a purple aeroplane that came zooming into the room,

'Hang on,' Hermione said as she snatched it from the air. She was quite sure she knew who it was
from, but you never knew- it could actually be important.

Mrs Ogden,

Auriga?

Mr Ogden.

P.S. Moody's on his way down.

As it turned out it wasn't. Hermione shook her head and pulled a new piece of memo paper from
her desk drawer and scrawled quickly,

Absolutely not - sounds like cheap wine! And we're going for a cuppa so he's out of luck. x

Remus was laughing quietly as he read the note. 'You know it's going to get worse not better right?'

'I figured,' Hermione said with a dramatic sigh, but laughed and added, 'but it wasn't like I didn't
already know that.' She picked up the distraction file, shoved her tea cup into Remus's hands and
marched out into the hallway and along to the little office three doors down.

'Hermione!' the woman said as soon as she approached the doorway. She was older than Hermione
by a few years, and had been working in the department since leaving Hogwarts so she was
significantly more senior than both Hermione and Remus. She worked in the classification office,
and was therefore someone Hermione wanted to keep onside; and the idea of house-elves having
holidays made her smile rather than give Hermione the blank look of incomprehension she was
used to, so that was a plus. She was also partly insane - but willing to believe almost anything if
you told her about it with well thought out reasoning, so once again useful. 'I've been meaning to
ask you,' Lyscanda started excitedly, her protuberant eyes bright with enthusiasm as always.

'Actually Lyscanda,' Hermione cut in swiftly, 'Remus asked me to give you this, he would like you
to fact-check it for him if you have the time? I'm sure he would value a few notes on possible
improvements, too.'

'Oh, of course,' the woman replied eagerly. Hermione felt a little guilty for giving her work that
didn't need to be done – it was Remus, there was no way it would need to be fact checked - but as
Remus snuck past while Lyscanda was distracted with the folder, Hermione felt no remorse. There
was a peaceful cup of tea at stake, and for the last two weeks their morning tea break had been
filled with ridiculous stories and flagrant flirting. It seemed to be something of a moral calamity for
Remus to discover that tea couldn't fix everything after all.

'Thank you so much, Lyscanda,' Hermione said fervently as she made a hasty exit in the direction
of the dining hall.

She caught up with Remus at the lifts and chuckled at the guilty expression on his face. 'You look
how I feel,' Hermione said as she pummelled the down button and the grill clanged shut.

'I know it's stupid,' Remus said, 'but I know what it's liked to be looked down on, and I just can't
bring myself to disappoint her - it seems mean, and a bit big-headed to be honest, it's not like I'm
beating the ladies off with a stick.'

Hermione just shook her head. 'I've told you – she's the aunt of one of my friends, and Luna was
similar. She seemed fragile but I would say she was tougher than me in many ways, something that
must have come from her mother's side of the family because her father was not so brave.'

Remus grinned. 'Still feel like a total prat every time I make some excuse and turn her down.'

Then maybe you should stop,' Hermione said, and Remus looked at her as though she had just said
the Umgubular Slashkilters were real after all. 'Come on, she's very nice –,'

'Mental,' Remus muttered.

'- and decent looking -'

'Still mental.'

'Fine,' Hermione said airily as the grill jerked open, 'I just didn't think that you were actually afraid
of dating.'

'Afraid?' Remus said indignantly, 'Hardly! I'm just –'

'Chicken,' Hermione muttered.

Remus grumbled under his breath as they made their way to the serving window where a portly tea
lady stood, large silver teapot in hand. 'You're buying,' he grouched. 'Make me sneak away from
my work and then insult me the whole way,' he continued to mumble as he put their tea mugs on
the counter.

Hermione just smirked as she fished a couple of sickles from her pocket and handed them to the
large woman. 'Tea please,' Hermione said politely as the woman took the silver coins.

With full cups, Hermione and Remus took a seat at the end of one of the long dining tables in the
open quiet room. It wouldn't be long before the masses descended all determined to enjoy their
fifteen minutes of leisure time in a queue for tea and then squishing up cosily next to their fellow
employees at the long tables, gulping back their tea with one eye on their watch and the other on
their Daily Prophet, magazine, or similar, in a frantic effort to relax before they had to go back to
their offices.
'So I maybe I'm a bit hesitant…' Remus admitted after a fortifying sip of English breakfast, then
went on the attack. 'At least my intended isn't after her job,' he pointed with his thumb back over his
shoulder at the beverage lady.

Hermione snorted. 'er … I'm not sure if you know, but I live with Sirius.'

Remus chuckled, 'Oh, hasn't he shared that dream of his with you? Sirius Black – tea lady
extraordinaire.'

Giggling Hermione said, 'He does make a good cuppa…'

'And he'd look quite fetching in that hairnet,' Remus added, causing Hermione to inhale half her
drink up her nose and splutter in a very undignified fashion as she laughed. Remus reached down
the table to grab a napkin from one of the piles placed thoughtfully along the centre. Handing it to
her, he said, 'To be honest I think he was only joking.'

Hermione blotted the tea from her grin and said, 'Possibly, but you can never be too sure with him.'

When Hermione and Remus returned to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical
Creatures, Hermione found that several interdepartmental memos had arrived in her absence, and
there was a note in Moody's handwriting propped up against her inkwell.

Granger,

Anyone would think you were avoiding me. Crouch would like your input on some language for
disciplinary action against the goblins after the ruckus at the mine in Somerset. I will pop in later.

-A. Moody

Hermione winced slightly; he had been coming to talk about work. Sirius really needed to be
clearer with his warnings. Hermione had just assumed Moody was on his way down to ask her to
join the Auror department again, which was frankly ridiculous. He was trying to bargain with her
as if the three years of training and poor pay were the problem, and seemed to overlook that the
end result would be a job she didn't even want. After six months of her rejecting his offers she still
had to turn the head of the Auror department down at least once a week. Sirius and James seemed
to find no end of amusement in her predicament and she had begun to wonder if Moody didn't
realise this because they always seemed to know he was on his way to talk to her.

She picked up the other memos - two purple planes which bore a large similarity to the one that she
had received before she left.

Mrs Ogden,

Norma?

Mr Ogden

Hermione winced, and unfolded the second.

Mrs Ogden,

Urgh, no. Scratch that last, sounds like a scary overweight dinner lady.

Prongs suggests Tegmen, because it's unisex. I think he was cooped up for too long and his mind
has gone a bit funny because that's not a name at all. How about Lyra though? That's a real name.
Mr Ogden

Hermione sighed and plonked heavily into her chair. She rested a hand on her protruding stomach
and said in its direction with a little disbelieving shake of her head, 'Despite the evidence, I promise
he's not a total twat. Lyra, I ask you?' There was no reply, but that wasn't altogether unexpected.

Hermione had to admit she was not one-hundred-percent pleased with her current situation. Yes,
she had a job arranging the language used in the legislation of magical creature restrictions just like
she had wanted, and she and Sirius were still together, and happy, and had had no major flare-ups
in their relationship. She looked back down at the bump - it was surprising that they were going as
well as they were, honestly, but Sirius seemed genuinely pleased about the situation now, though
he'd been pale-faced and speechless on first receiving the news. Hermione had sympathised with
his shock, given that she had barely been able to say the frightening sentence aloud. Thankfully
when she had told Frederica through the coal range in Sirius's flat that same evening her adoptive
mother had been so delighted and cheerful about the news it made Hermione's fluttering panic
recede slightly.

The Blacks were another story. Although Pollux and Walburga had both beamed when Sirius had
told them the news at dinner two months ago, Walburga had immediately followed up by asking
how soon they planned on getting married – because of course it would not do for Hermione to be
showing too much in the photographs – which was a slight problem.

'What do you mean you're not?' Walburga hissed across the dining room table, her fine eye brows
converging on each other to form one straight angry line.

Sirius glanced at Hermione, and she very nearly laughed at the look on his face - clearly etched
there was a message, I told you so, you owe me twenty galleons. Before they had left the flat for
Grimmauld Place that evening, Hermione had been quite sure that Walburga would be at least
somewhat accepting, because of Hermione's supposed upbringing, as Frederica had never married;
but Sirius – who as it turned out was completely correct – had insisted that his mother would be
very put out that the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was going to be a bastard.

'Mother listen,' Sirius said calmly, 'it's not like we won't ever get married, we… er… just don't
want to rush it because of this. You wouldn't want a pregnant daughter-in-law marring the family
wedding portraits in the hall would you?'

'Well, no,' Walburga allowed, 'but we could get it organised quickly.' She looked toward Hermione
appraisingly, 'The fashion in wedding gowns is quite forgiving this season, and I'm sure –'

'Mrs Black,' Hermione interrupted, knowing that once Walburga got started there was little chance
of stopping her, 'My mother and uncle would not be satisfied with such an event. They insist that
when we do decide to get married, that the wedding is of course at the family home in Zurich; the
guest list alone would take months to prepare, then there will be all the legal requirements,
prenuptial negotiations to be settled - we would be looking at a year at the very least. So I'm afraid
it just isn't an option.' She smiled consolingly, hoping to give the impression that she, too, was
disappointed that she could not be forced into a shotgun wedding.

'I would like to speak to Lady Fehr about this,' Walburga said, obviously realising that Hermione
was right, that with the status of their two families a rushed wedding really wasn't really possible
without it being completely obvious what they were about.

'She would love to hear from you,' Hermione said brightly, adding a little cheekily, 'Just last week
she asked me if you would prefer to be Granny or Nana, as she is content with either.'
Sirius suddenly began to cough and excused himself from the table, only to be followed almost
immediately by Pollux, who seemed to have developed the same respiratory issue. Walburga's eyes
watched them suspiciously from the room but she turned her attention back to Hermione as soon as
the men were gone and said sternly, 'I don't see that I should be called anything until the child is a
Black.' Hermione blinked uncertainly, and fortunately Walburga continued without requiring a
response. 'Do you know yet if it is a boy or a girl?'

'No, I'm only ten weeks along; the healers will be able to tell in another two months. I'm surprised
you are so upset Mrs Black,' Hermione said, 'I thought you would be happy that there was going to
be another pureblood child in the world, and one fathered by a Black at that.'

Walburga made a resigned sound, 'I am. I'm just a little shocked that you would be so careless -
what of your career? You said it meant so much to you and now…'

Hermione couldn't really recall what she'd said to that, as she couldn't help but agree with
Walburga on that point, It grated on her that she would have to be away from work for a while,
when that was the whole reason everyone had gone to so much effort for her in the first place - if
she had known she was just going to go and get herself knocked up she could have just stayed
hidden for another few years and saved everyone the bother.

Hermione and Sirius had been living together ever since her return to London at the beginning of
January, and despite the interfering foetus's obvious provocation for disagreement, those five
months had been very good. Still, she was determined not to get married just because of a little too
much wine and some sloppy spell-casting; it was hardly a good impression to set for the child, 'do
as society tells you', although when she took into consideration its father's attitude to the world a
healthy dose of respect for authority and tradition would perhaps not be entirely out of place.

That's what the rational side of her brain told her anyway. The other side - pink and frilly, and
decidedly evil, - told her they should run down to the Births Deaths and Marriages department at
lunchtime and tie the knot, and it would be nothing short of perfect; she could stay home and be a
mother in an apron and house dress, while cooking and cleaning for her husband, because that's all
she needed in life. Hermione felt quite ill every time one of these dastardly thoughts crossed her
mind; the healer had told her it was quite normal, driven by the villainous baby hormones, but it
made her feel like a simpering imbecile..

The whole situation was irritating, especially as the months passed and she began to show. It
seemed that every woman in the Ministry of Magic felt the urge to reach out and touch her growing
belly – as if it were normal socially acceptable behaviour – only to cringe slightly at the sight of her
bare ring finger and give her a consoling, brace up there dearie, it's not the end of the world look
that made Hermione want to jinx them for making her feel a bit trampy. Honestly, though, she
couldn't fight the fact that she had always wanted to have children, and while it was a little sooner
than she had planned, Hermione wasn't upset about being a mother. Nor was she upset about being
tied to Sirius for the rest of her life, because they just seemed to work. What it came down to in the
end was that if they got married now, it would always seem like it was because they had to for
tradition's sake, not because they wanted to. So Walburga could just shove it.

Even with being nearly five months pregnant and working full time, Hermione had more of a social
life than she'd ever had before. Working in the same building as her friends, sharing tea breaks and
lunch breaks and flying memos, reminded her vaguely of her school days, but without the stress of
impending war. Dinner after work, or pub snacks on the way home - sometimes with only Sirius,
but usually James or Remus or both joined them - dinner at the Potters' on the weekends, and lunch
with Lily when she was in London, outings that had started out as weekly but ramped up as Lily
had discovered a new hobby.
Sirius, James and Remus were inseparable most weekends and they normally spent their time at the
Potters; Hermione did not always join them but would usually turn up for dinner. She was still a
little amazed that the three of them could spend from lunchtime till late in the evening sitting about
in the backyard talking. Occasionally they would take Harry off on adventuring missions through
the woods at the back of the property, but they just seemed to have an endless amount to discuss.
So when she did choose to spend her weekend afternoons in Godric's Hollow, she and Lily would
often find themselves pretending to be involved with something, as the three men had entire
conversations with little more than eyebrow-raising and hand gestures. Although Hermione always
felt slightly left out in such situations, she couldn't help the bubbling pride inside her that without
her insane plan none of it would be possible.

Her friendship with Lily was not the easy and immediate one she had with Remus, but slowly they
were growing to appreciate one another as more than just friends of convenience. Lily found
Hermione's work quite interesting, having never really thought about the world of magical
creatures past how it affected Remus, and being a muggleborn she drew the same conclusions as
Hermione tended to about the ingrained prejudiced views in wizarding society. Lily was an easy
person to spend time with, and they were content to lounge about in each other's sitting rooms
eating too much of Lily's baking and having very pleasant conversations about books and houses
and babies and nonsense.

Despite having a toddler to bring along, Lily seemed determined to accept any excuse at all to
leave her house and enjoy her freedom these days, and every time she and Harry came to visit
Hermione at the upstairs flat, Hermione noticed how unsuitable it would be for raising a child in.
Watching Lily levitating Harry in his stroller up the stairs had been the clincher, but there was also
the aggressive mildew in the bathroom, and the cupboard-sized kitchen would be difficult to work
in when you had – according to Lily – mountains of smelly laundry to get through and all the
bench tops covered in feeding bottles. These horrifying images led to the decision that Hermione
and Sirius and proto-baby would be moving somewhere with a little more space. Lily had offered
to help them look for somewhere new, and not only had it become a bit of a mania for Lily, it had
made Hermione realise how much she had in common with the red head. Lily was not quite as
methodical in her research as Hermione would have been, but she still had lists of suitable areas,
house sizes and prices, as well as checklists from both Sirius and Hermione about what they
wanted and didn't want. Hermione was surprised to find how much she enjoyed to process and
wondered if Lily should look into real estate as a career because she certainly seemed to have a
knack for it. It was very nice for Hermione to have the project in common with Lily, as something
for them to build a friendship on; having never had very close girlfriends before, Hermione
sometimes found herself ill at ease, but this gave them something to talk about when nothing else
popped to mind.

Hermione shook her head. Pregnancy-brain was not ideal for the workplace, but if someone as
distractible as Sirius could manage to keep a Ministry job, surely she'd be fine. She collected her
notes on the goblin situation as quickly as she could; it would not do to keep Crouch waiting. The
man might not be possessed of the same manic determination for conviction he had shown in her
original time, but he was still a prim and impatient man, not to mention important; Hermione would
be foolish to annoy such a good potential ally. She set off briskly for the Law Enforcement
department with the hope that she could impress Crouch with her knowledge of silver mining
protocol and the restrictions it was placing on the goblins, and why this had led to the rather nasty
brawl between the wizard landowners and the mining creatures.

A squeaking sound from Frank Longbottom's desk broke in to Sirius's thoughts as he scribbled out
a note to Hermione. He was quite enjoying that she had said he could choose the name for their
child; as absolutely horrifically frightening as it was that such a decision was required of him at all,
he told himself that if James could raise a kid Sirius couldn't really back out. Besides it being a
despicable thing to consider, he couldn't let James beat him at something - that would be insane.
He shook his head and added James's opinion on unisex names to his note, trying to finish before
Frank interrupted.

'Black, what's happening with the last of those forms on The Legion raid?'

'I gave them to you this morning,' Sirius said distractedly as he folded the note and sent it on its
way, before looking up to see his neighbour's head poking over the dividing wall as usual.

'No, not the capture ones, the casualty ones,' Frank said impatiently.

'Er … right, they would be … not started yet.' Sirius admitted.

'You know, just because you're not bottom of the heap anymore doesn't mean you can slack off,'
Frank said in his best boss-man voice, that never failed to make Sirius laugh.

'Pfft,' Sirius flicked his hand in Frank's direction, 'I work way harder now than I did all last year;
and there might be five guys lower down, but it still feels pretty much like bottom if you ask me.'
Then he grinned, 'Though given one of the five is James, it's not all bad.'

Frank chuckled. 'Yeah, he was whining to Moody the other day about you telling him what to do,
even though the two of you trained together – reckons it's not fair that his rank is still "newly
qualified".'

Sirius felt a bit guilty hearing this, but only a tinybit. James had bossed him around most of his life
and Sirius had never complained, and now he was getting his own back. 'What did Moody say?'

'That Potter shouldn't have taken such a long holiday then,' Frank said with an amused smirk.

Sirius snorted. It was bloody wonderful not being Moody's favourite whipping boy anymore. He
suspected it was at least in part because his boss was trying to get to Hermione through him -
something else that made Sirius laugh, because no matter how many times the Head of Department
asked, Hermione would never join the Aurors, never.

In the nearly six months since Voldemort had bled to an embarrassingly muggle death on the
Potters' front lawn, the Auror department had experienced the most organised period in Sirius's
employment – surprising considering that the rest of the Ministry was a bit of a shambles. Minister
Bagnold held them all together, but as more and more high ranking officials were accused of Death
Eating or sympathetic tendencies towards the Death Eaters, the more important departments were
shaky. Accidents and Catastrophes, International Magical Co-Operation and the Transportation
Departments, and even the Minister's own office had lost several key members, but thanks to the
ever vigilant Crouch, Law Enforcement and its subsidiaries, including the Auror office, were
ticking along with no major upsets. Crouch was working insanely hard to keep order -many thought
he was after the post of Minister one day, but Sirius knew it was because he was trying to make up
for his failings in his family life.

Sirius had been one of the arresting Aurors at Crouch's home that evening. They had brought the
boy in quietly, and he was given – as all suspects were – a dose of Veritaserum, and asked the
questions that all suspects were asked: Did you support Voldemort and his aims at any time? Did
you hurt people, muggle or wizard, on his orders? Do you wish he was still alive? These three
questions gathered enough information for the Auror to decide if the suspect was required to move
on to further questioning and sentencing. Some, like Bellatrix and her husband, who were
apprehended with Rowle and Judson, were not even given a trial due to their boastful Veritaserum
confessions, but were efficiently awarded a life term in Azkaban. Sirius understood that it was
better not to make a public spectacle of these people, that to send them away quietly was better for
wizarding morale, and it was also more cost effective and reduced escape attempts, but he still felt
uneasy. That was how he had ended up in Azkaban - locked up without a trial - and although he
was very sure that all Death Eaters that had been incarcerated were as guilty and proud of it as it
was possible to be, Sirius hated the idea of making a mistake with one of them.

One of Sirius's most unsettling memories of "The Purge" - as The Prophet dubbed the months after
Riddle's death when the Death Eaters were being sniffed out and rounded up - was when he'd had
to give evidence in favour of Snape's innocence, well, his turncoatery, to the Wizengamot.
Hermione had insisted on this, and while it had earned Sirius very serious "Up yours Snivelly, I'm
the bigger man" points, he still wished he hadn't had to say the phrase "Severus Snape is a
trustworthy and brave member of our community", because really the man was a sneaking slimy
snake.

Pollux's prediction of the Auror department ranks being thinned after the war hadn't come true,
although they were confident that the true Death Eaters had been rounded up now. Thanks to
Moody and his sixth sense for knowing where they would be hiding, and to the case files Remus
and Dumbledore had spent the early part of the previous year building up, none had walked free.
Even without the Death-Eater presence, however, an unexpected situation was keeping the Aurors
busily employed. An odd fraction had sprung up, insisting that since ignorance had led to the death
of the old hero Dumbledore, to prevent such a tragedy again, the Statue of Secrecy should be
scrapped.

At first, the Legion of Truth had hardly been Auror business at all, with peaceful rallies preaching
understanding, and talk of closing the gulf between magic and muggle; it was a powerfully
persuasive message to the optimistic ears of the war survivors. Muggles with magic children would
speak to the crowds of people telling them that wizards were only hurting themselves by keeping
magic a secret, that muggles would accept them now, the old fear of magic was gone that all
humans should live as one. As with every group that tried to change the status quo, they were met
with hard resistance from the sectors of society who would be affected most by the proposed
change, and in a drive to gain more support their policies became more extreme.

Moody was the first to recognise the ominous direction they were heading, as the leaders began to
suggest that the magical population should return to the way they lived before the Statute of
Secrecy bound them, oppressed them, robbed them of their identity. Magical people should take it
upon themselves to spread the word of their existence, because the muggles needed to know what a
terrible crime they had committed by killing Albus Dumbledore, how their ignorance had removed
a great and powerful man from this world.

It wouldn't be long before it became a case of muggle-hatred all over again - it was their fault
Dumbledore was gone, and they deserved to suffer for it, and so on. It was the Aurors' job to
prevent it going that far, but the rallies and meetings were no longer the peaceful events they once
were, with crowds of supporters whipped into a frenzy against the Ministry for oppressing the
magical people when the world should know. To everyone outside the movement, it was obvious
that The Legion of Truth was dangerous, that the Statute of Secrecy was there to protect wizards,
that magical knowledge could not be shared without serious loss. It would be too tempting for the
muggles - the Legion was probably right that they wouldn't fear magic like they had in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, but seemed not to consider that they might covert it. It would become
another weapon, and muggles seemed to be at war constantly; handing them more dangerous
weapons would be a very foolish thing.

It wasn't a perfect political environment, but it was such an improvement over the war, that Sirius
frankly wasn't worried. November the first nineteen eighty-one had been an amazing day - he didn't
think he would ever forget the atmosphere, the sheer joy that filled the streets as there were
magical people everywhere, trying very hard to appear inconspicuous but failing miserably. He
often wondered if the muggles of Britain, and London especially, could remember the day at all,
given that the Obliviators from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had been so
overworked. But even more than the expressions of disbelieving freedom and relief on the face of
every wizard Sirius had seen that day, the thing that he was sure would cheer him up for the rest of
his life was the look on his grandfather's face, when Sirius had dropped that morning's edition of
the Daily Prophet onto his desk in the library with a cheerful (and possibly slightly childish) "I told
you so"

He and Hermione had gone to Grimmauld Place before noon that day. It was a struggle to keep
their focus on the serious matter of informing Pollux of their mission, when all Sirius wanted to do
was dance about obnoxiously singing 'Screw you Death Eaters!' and kiss random strangers – or
maybe just Hermione. They had reined in their joy at the dour House of Black – a place that was
awfully good for squishing out cheerful emotions – and sat opposite Pollux in the library. Rather
than launching into the story all over again, Sirius had let his grandfather ask the questions, and
Hermione and Sirius found themselves giving detailed descriptions of the Gaunt shack burning and
re-hashing Remus's account of the fight with Riddle.

Hermione told Pollux about Riddle being a halfblood; it shocked the Black patriarch at first for
obvious reasons, but by the end of their conversation he was saying that the man had never
behaved with the dignity one would expect of a true pureblood and that they should have known all
along, which had Sirius rolling his eyes in exasperated amusement. The thing that found Sirius
hard-pressed not to laugh was when his grandfather had pulled a small leather bound book from his
desk drawer and then with a resigned sigh began to copy names and addresses from it onto a piece
of parchment with his wand. He then thrust this list across the desk and said, 'These are people I
know supported the Dark Lord with more than just gold, I would suggest you speak with them
before they disappear, and please remember that I have helped your side, I'm not quite ready to
give up my position just yet.'

Sirius chuckled as he pocketed the note; he appreciated Pollux's support, but the actual information
was undoubtedly redundant. 'Do you think I'm here to arrest you, Granddad?'

'To be quite frank Sirius, I wouldn't blame you. You told me the reason you were involved in this
in the first place was because our family held three of five Horcruxes, Andromeda and yourself are
the only living members of this family who are not on first-name terms with at least half of the
Dark Lord's followers, and if the Ministry were to gain access to our financial records they would
see that this house supported the cause very generously until the beginning of October. I'm sure
they will want a few words with me – as it is my signature next to every donation.

'Grandfather, no, they –' Sirius stuttered, a little surprised that Pollux had stopped donating to the
cause - surprised but quite proud.

'I'm not designed for prison, my boy,' Pollux spoke over him, 'I hear the whiskey is dreadful. Please
do all you can to make sure I don't go down that path.'

'Really Mr Black,' Hermione said placatingly, 'they won't come after you. Mr Moody is in charge
of the investigation, and he will make sure your contributions to our side are well publicised.'

Pollux took a sip from his glass and said in a sceptical tone, 'I've not done – '

'Ah yes,' Sirius cut him off grinning, 'like how you met with Dumbledore to help protect some
children who were under threat from the Death Eaters. I'm sure the Lestrange children would make
very good character witnesses of your kindness, especially with what happened to Rab as proof of
their anti-Voldemort status.'

Pollux smiled reluctantly. 'I suppose when you word it like it does sound much more honourable
than it was intended to be. At the time I was very annoyed with the man - he may have been a
powerful and skilled wizard, but my word, he was irritatingly pleased to be invited into our home.'
He shook his head at the apparent madness of Albus Dumbledore. 'He asked me all sorts of
ridiculous questions after you two left.'

'And don't forget your selfless rescue of a kidnapped dog,' Sirius sniggered. 'Who knows what
Sausage-Fingers and his skinny mate would have done to me if you hadn't turned up.'

'I hardly think that's a story for the Wizengamot,' Pollux said, but he looked much more cheerful.
He tapped the front page of the Prophet Sirius had flung on his desk. 'So this is true, what it says
here? Remus Lupin - werewolf - destroyed Voldemort in single combat?"

'Yup,' Sirius said proudly, knowing that Pollux was well aware that it referred to Sirius's friend
Remus, 'killing curse straight to the chest – hardly the actions of a savage beast, right Granddad?'

'Well, it was certainly brave of him,' Pollux agreed, eyes scanning the article. The image
accompanying the article was one of very few pictures of Riddle, an old stock photo from the early
seventies, taken by a brave journalist in the days when Voldemort had still attended the attacks he
organised. Riddle looked much more human than Sirius had ever seen him in life, and he was glad
of that – it made Voldemort seem more banal, just your regular evil psychopath rather than the
immortal godlike villain he had become. Pollux ran his finger across the banner headline again,
and asked in a puzzled voice, 'How was he able to duel the Dark Lord?'

'Grandfather,' Sirius sighed impatiently, realising Pollux wasn't asking about strategy, but
suggesting that complicated magic would be far beyond the understanding of an animal, 'Remus
went to school with me, surely you've put that together – he's just a normal, albeit clever - and now
Voldemort-killing - bloke. Not all werewolves are like him, but they could be if they had the
chance –'

'My boy,' Pollux said in a weary voice, holding his hand up in front of his face, 'I have quite
enough to get my head around today without you preaching werewolf rights. Perhaps when this has
all died down, I could meet with him and decide for myself.'

Sirius just stared for a moment before he said incredulously, 'But Grandfather, you know he is a
halfblood – surely you would not agree to that, much less suggest it yourself!'

Pollux shook his head in disbelief. 'Is a halfblood worse than a half breed?' He asked weakly,
seeming to be confused by Sirius's horror at the idea.

But Sirius just burst into laughter. 'I'm not sure, but he's rather poor as well, so Mother probably
wouldn't let him in the house anyway.'

'Probably not,' Pollux agreed dazedly, reaching for his whiskey decanter in the obvious hope of
washing away the whole confusing conversation.

Sirius grinned to himself at his desk as he rummaged around for the blank forms Frank wanted him
to fill in. Pollux had not met Remus yet, but last time they had played chess his grandfather had
asked about 'that Lupin's work', which was a satisfying start. Remus's project at the Ministry was
an education programme for werewolves, many of whom could not read or write. Remus had been
laughing at the pub about the irony of it all, that his chosen career was so similar to the werewolf
training task he had hidden from for the last three years; Gamp might have a vicious bellow and
strict rules around break times, but definitely less death threats and torturing than Voldemort. And
although Pollux had grumbled about his taxes paying for a questionable programme, he still asked
and listened as Sirius told him of Remus's progress, so there was a small light at the end of the
bigoted tunnel.

Visiting Grimmauld Place these days was a much more pleasant experience, in part because
Hermione often joined Sirius on his family visits now, which itself was because of the new
residents. With her husband, sister and brother-in-law in prison, Narcissa had moved into to the
London townhouse with her small son, and although she missed Lucius terribly, Sirius had the
feeling that his cousin was relieved that Voldemort was gone and her son was safe. Narcissa agreed
with Hermione's decision not to get married in a hurry; as she had said in a scandalised voice when
Walburga had one of her little outbursts of irritation at the pair of them, 'But Aunty, Hermione's
mother will get her a dress from Milan, altering it would be criminal!' It didn't seem to matter to
Hermione that Narcissa's motivation for defending their decision was purely prevention of gown
vandalism; she said it was just good to have someone on her side in the drawing room when all the
other ladies made their thinly veiled insults about their day and having self-control and decorum.

Sirius enjoyed his cousin's company, too - she was quick and funny and had a much dirtier sense of
humour than Sirius had ever known about, which he thought was quite brilliant. There was also
young Draco, who at nearly two was almost old enough for conversation, and conversation in
Sirius's mind meant old enough to convince to play jokes on "Auntie Wally" - as Sirius already had
the toddler calling the lady of the house, much to Walburga's horror. Both Pollux and Narcissa
found it endearing and chuckled whenever the blonde boy would use the name, which only
encouraged him further. Sirius hoped his own child would be as useful for entertainment.

Narcissa was a type of flower, not a star, Sirius thought vaguely as he pulled open drawers in his
search for the elusive forms - why was she the only one of the cousins without an astronomic
name? His mother had been quite firm on the fact that if he and Hermione were determined to have
this bastard child the least they could do was name it according to tradition. He had been doing his
best to find a name to fit Walburga's demands, that wasn't something the poor kid would get too
picked on for, or more importantly wasn't naming them after a prejudiced and deranged wanker –
these two stipulations meant that the pickings were very slim indeed.

'Here you go, slavedriver!' There was a sudden thump of parchment falling on Sirius's desk and he
looked over his shoulder to see James standing over him. 'You make me do all those forms and
you're sitting here writing love letters?' James accused, peering at the purple memo paper Sirius
had been scribbling on before he began his hunt for Frank's papers.

'Did I ask you to do these?' Sirius said, puzzled, as he recognised the forms as the blank ones he
had spent the last half hour looking for, only now they were filled with James's handwriting.

'Yes, this pulling rank thing has got to stop.' James sounded serious but he grinned and added,
'Otherwise I won't tell you a brilliant bit of news from Lily's house hunting.'

Sirius snorted, 'Tell Hermione not me, I don't care where we live. Besides, I'm not pulling rank,
Moody tells me what to do and what he wants you to do and makes me tell you - you know what
the old coot is like, he's still trying to get back at us for beating him and Robards –'

'Is that so, Black?'

Four years, Sirius thought, four bloody years of working for the crotchety bastard and he still
hadn't learned that every time he said something disparaging, Moody would turn up like a violent
spirit, popping out of the carpet with his cane at the ready. Sirius drew a deep breath in through his
nose and turned to face Moody. 'Yes, that's why you pick on us, because we beat you and it pisses
you off.'

'Very nearly true, Black,' Moody said slowly, casting his one good eye appraisingly over them, 'but
not quite. You see, everything about you two tends to piss me off – so I guess you could include
that fluke of a victory - but mostly,' he jabbed Sirius in the knee, not as hard as he once would have,
but still not a pleasant sensation, 'it's that you continue,' he looked over Sirius's shoulder to see his
desk scattered in little purple memos, 'to muck about when you're supposed to be working.' His
words might have been cutting but when they weren't presented in the usual growl Sirius found it
harder to be threatened by the man. Moody glared at the pair of them for a moment and Sirius
thought that perhaps he was still a little threatening after all, until he said in a voice that could
almost be described as cheerful, 'Well I'm going to pop down and see your lass again Black, maybe
she'll have stopped avoiding me now.'

Sirius didn't look at James, knowing that if he did his tenuous hold on his straight face would
break. Moody's endless drive to get Hermione up to the law enforcement department was
something they both found very funny – once a week or so Moody would optimistically tell them
he was off to have another try, and then he would return surly with his walking stick on the alert
for slackers, because of course Hermione already had the job she wanted, and had turned him down
yet again. Moody rapped his stick against the cubicle wall sharply and said, 'Wish me luck, lads,'
before he turned and stumped off towards the lifts, leaving Sirius shaking his head and James
chuckling to himself.

'So anyway,' James said as though there had been no interruption, 'Lily said there's a house for sale
on the other side of Godric's Hollow – I think she wants Hermione to come and look at it after
work. You should tag along, keep me sane while they talk about scotias and skirting boards and
north facing light or whatever the hell it is all night long.'

Sirius grinned at him. 'Neighbours you reckon?' he asked, feeling interested in this house-hunting
rubbish for the first time since it began three months ago. While he understood that raising a child
in a small damp upstairs flat in central London wasn't really ideal if you had the option not to, the
idea of moving was not a pleasant one. He couldn't help but imagine some kind of suburban horror
with pushchair-walking clubs, gossip at every turn, and his manhood being threatened if his lawn
was patchy - though he supposed muggle standards wouldn't be too difficult, as lawn care was
much easier when you had a wand. But Lily and Prongs didn't seem to have any issues with pushy
pram mothers or competing horticulturists as far as he knew, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He looked back at the forms, 'Well, you've just cleared my afternoon – what are you doing now?
Shall we see if Moony can sneak away from Gamp and meet us at the Leaky for lunch?'

James grimaced. 'Can't, I'm on escort duty actually - and you won't believe who's on the list today.'

'Who?' Sirius asked, thinking it was bound to be someone he was related to.

'Mrs Pettigrew.'

Sirius felt his stomach drop at the mention of the name. 'Are you all right with taking her?' Sirius
asked; surely Moody wouldn't insist that James had to take the mother of his own near-murderer
out to Azkaban to visit the traitor.

Sirius's wistful imaginings of merrily bashing Peter's face in had unfortunately not come to pass.
He had not been able to track Peter down the day after Hallowe'en – being hampered somewhat by
not really wanting to spoil his spectacular mood and having to go and prove his case to his
grandfather. Hermione had said it was highly unlikely that Sirius would be able to find the traitor
anyway, since too much had changed; even dim Peter would be smart enough to keep his head
down since James and Lily were still alive to tell everyone the truth about who their secret keeper
was, so it wasn't like he could blame Sirius this time round.

As it turned out, Pettigrew was in a bit of trouble on both sides of the fence. In answer to reporters'
endless questions about how Voldemort was able to find such a magically protected house, Moody,
the sly dog that he was, had said that a traitor to the Order had sold them out, that he had been
passing information to the Death Eaters and used a clever disguise to hide – his animagus form, a
rat. Why Moody had not given away Pettigrew's identity explicitly, Sirius still didn't know, but the
result of that little conversation led to the facts being printed in the Prophet the following day. The
Death Eaters Peter was sheltering with were none too pleased, convinced he'd been playing both
sides, and had intentionally sent Voldemort on a doomed errand, and now they knew to watch for
rats.

Dolohov had very nearly killed Peter a week later when they and two others were cornered on a
pier in Pettycur just north of Edinburgh, but James, in an act so ironic that Sirius still teased him
about it, had stunned Antonin before he could act. To Sirius's great surprise, Peter had not tried to
convince James of his innocence; he had begged for mercy, yes, but he never denied what he had
done. So even though both James and Sirius had been right there on the Auror squad that helped
capture their old friend, with the presence of Robards, Dawlish and Scrimgeour they both decided
violent muggle tactics weren't in their best interests – merely because of the paperwork involved
afterward, they had assured each other.

Peter had only been sentenced to ten years, much to Sirius's annoyance; as he had not directly
harmed anyone, and had said under Veritaserum that he was cornered and he never sought out
Voldemort, and did not believe in the cause, he was given a lenient sentence. Moody had seen to
the rat-proofing of the traitors cell, but James, Sirius and Remus all felt it wasn't really enough, that
Peter had a hand in the deaths of so many Order members with the information he had leaked, but
the Wizengamot had not agreed. When Peter's story was compared to the boastful confessions of
the Death Eaters he was brought, in with Sirius could almost understand why. Almost.

'Yeah, I guess so,' James said, 'not like she did anything, and I don't have to see Worm- him - it's
only a drop-off at the office. The guards take them from there.'

Sirius nodded. He knew this already, having had to be an escort once himself, one of the more
unpleasant tasks that came with being an Auror these days. Each prisoner was only allowed a
visitor once a year, and that was for the medium security prisoners and below; the high-risk
captives did not see anybody accept dementors for their entire internment, which in most cases was
life. Sirius wondered how wise it was to make the most dangerous cellmates more insane and less
human by continued contact with the dementors, but that, like the presence of dementors at all, was
something that was quite far down the list of things that needed fixing in the world so it would just
have to wait for now. 'Well then mate, I'll definitely come for dinner – you'll need some proper
cheering up after that.'

James grinned. 'Brilliant, could you let Lily know? I have to get going –'

'Sure, I'm still going to see if Moony can get away - shall I ask him to come tonight?'

James nodded distractedly as two of the senior Aurors approached. 'Yeah good idea – tell Lily if he
can, she'll want to make me peel extra potatoes.'

'Cooking now, is it? Did I make you jealous?' Sirius asked, sniggering to himself as he whipped a
piece of memo paper from his pile and started his note to Remus.
'More like, Lils said that if the hopeless Sirius Black can cook bangers in bread, surely a man of
my boundless skill and intelligence can handle peeling the spuds.' James looked thoughtful for a
moment before he said, 'Personally I think it's a laugh at my expense, but I'll get it eventually.'

'Get what eventually Potter?' asked Hectors as the pair of senior Aurors reached Sirius's workspace.
Hectors was a no-nonsense fellow in his fifties, barrel-chested and not overly tall, with a uniform
stubble of grey hair covering chin, cheeks, and across his head. His partner Smethley was slightly
taller and compensated for his pale thinning hair by growing what remained long – even longer
than Sirius's – and wore it tied back. Smethley looked a question at James, too, waiting for an
answer on what the younger Auror was going to get eventually.

James's eyes widened in alarm behind his glasses at the idea of discussing his unmanly domestic
habits with these two hardened veterans; he glanced around and said quickly, 'The charm
concealing all those notes lifted from Forte de Sang – we're nearly there, right Sirius?'

'Er, right,' Sirius confirmed, impressed with his friend's quick thinking. It was kind of true, they
had tried so many different combinations on the ledgers found in the vault at his cousin's house that
if only by process of elimination they must be approaching the right one – there was nearly nothing
left to try. 'Slowly but surely is the only way to peel off the enchantments, ay mate?'

James snorted and rolled his eyes, 'Indeed. Come on then,' he said looking at Hectors, 'I'm in the
mood for some sea air and soul-sucking depression, what do you say chaps?'

The older Aurors looked at each other with apparent resignation, whether at the afternoon's
prospects or the jaunty attitude of their colleague, Sirius couldn't tell.

'I say we get it over with,' Smethley said looking at his watch, 'hop to it, we're due at the dock in
twenty minutes.'

Sirius chuckled at James's cheery wave as he left, looking for all the world like he was being taken
to meet some famous Quidditch star and not spend the next two hours in a boat with the sinister
families of convicted Death Eaters and other violent criminals. Prongs was a right silly idiot at
times, Sirius thought to himself.

Once James was gone, Sirius finished scribbling out a note to Remus - reminding him of the
importance of light hearted conversation and how it should be accompanied with a pint and chips -
and sent it on its way. The poor bloke spent his life surrounded by moral crusaders down in the
magical creatures department, and from both his and Hermione's stories they all seemed to be the
tree-hugging holier-than-thou type. Most of the employees with old family connections – and
opinions – had either been arrested or had resigned when Gamp had grudgingly agreed to give
Remus a position, but the department was slowly building up again, even if many of the new
employees were a bit daft.

Sirius tried very hard to be interested in his girlfriend's work, but it really seemed like the most
boring load of waffle he'd ever come across, worse possibly than magical immigration. Remus
assured him, however, that Hermione's sneaky way of rearranging language in the laws that were
being sent up to the Minister's office for approval was making all the difference. Sirius had
expected something far more dramatic from her – an impassioned demand to rewrite the
classifications on magical creatures and to give every being equal rights, a bit of soap-box-standing
and pamphlet-passing – that was what he assumed she had done last time. But no, it turned out that
she had just stuck her clever little pointy quill into the wording of everything she could touch, and
over time, without anyone really even noticing, the situation for the downtrodden improved.

Already, registered werewolves couldn't legally be fired from a job for the sole crime of being a
werewolf. Employers still managed to find ways around that one, but Hermione insisted it was a
start. Centaurs' lands had always been a confusing topic but now there was one little sentence in the
entitlement treaty amendments that said if they had to be moved for security reasons (muggles
deciding to build a new motorway through a forest they lived in, for example) they had to be
provided with an area of similar size and geographical advantages. In instances of criminal
allegations all creatures were now allowed legal representation, a victory achieved with one word
added to the procedural documents; instead of The creature will present its case, the clause read
The creature's counsel will present its case. So all of these tiny little tweakings were Hermione's
achievements over the last four months, something Sirius was impressed by even if her talking
about it was guaranteed to have him snoring in five minutes flat. She said that once she had
established herself as a sane and sensible employee with a competent track record, she would
become a bit more vocal, but for now Sirius thought that she quite enjoyed the deviousness of the
whole thing, pulling one over on the Ministry and all that; occasionally he wondered if she was
lying about being in Gryffindor at school, as she just seemed to have Slytherin written all over her
sometimes. Also there was the fact that she was never offended enough when he suggested it – any
true Gryffindor would depute such offensive accusations with their dying breath.

The dividing wall creaked and Sirius looked up in time to see Frank grinning at him. 'Those would
be the forms then?' he asked with a nod in the direction of the stack of parchment James had
delivered.

'Yup,' Sirius said, 'I was quick, right?'

'Ha, nice try,' Frank said shrewdly. 'I heard Potter drop them off. Just because you can't see me
doesn't mean I'm not listening.'

'Creepy, Longbottom,' Sirius said, passing the papers over the wall. 'I suppose you also want an
invite to lunch then?' he asked as he stood to pull off his uniform robes in preparation to escape.

'No thanks,' said Frank, 'Alice has been making my lunch every day, says with another kid on the
way I need to look after myself, and that means no more ale or chips for lunch. Isn't Hermione on
your case about that sort of stuff?'

Sirius shook his head, 'Not yet, the girl won't even marry me – do you think she'd try and tell me
what to eat?' Then he grinned, and added. 'Besides, it's not like I tell her what I have for lunch
every day, for all she knows it's salad and herbal tea all the way.'

Frank snorted. 'Good luck trying to sell her that one. Just you wait, when she's as far along as Alice
the nagging will start; it's like they think we'll die and leave them all alone to raise the baby
because we ate one more Yorkshire pudding.'

'When you're as old as you perhaps,' Sirius laughed.

Frank threw the quill he was holding at Sirius and said, 'It's only three years mate, you just wait.'

'Yeah but by then you'll be nearly thirty, so I still won't be that worried.'

Frank huffed and sank back behind the wall just as a purple paper plane zoomed in from the open
area; Sirius snatched it from the air and unfolded it to read Remus's handwriting.

Pads,

You have greatly offended Amos - he does not appreciate being referred to as one of the "tree
hugging hippy-dippies down here" and would like to remind you that he works in dangerous beast
handling and is quite capable of dealing with jumped up little Aurors if they are going to call him
names.

Hermione is also unimpressed to be lumped with the less ambitious members of our department–
so yes, lunch away from here would be great.

Gamp's on the warpath, someone was meant to oversee the release of several captured dragons
into the wild but they got loose early and tried to barbeque everything in sight, so the poor blokes
not only smell like pork chops but have been having strips torn off them for the last half hour.
Good for me though, I'm leaving now. Meet you downstairs.

Moony

Sirius sighed, half-amused and half-annoyed - did the bloody wolf read his mail aloud? Now he
would have to avoid the burly Diggory for a couple of days, not difficult but an inconvenience. It
wasn't like Sirius was afraid or anything, just… prudent. He penned a quick note to Hermione and
sent it on its way before leaving to meet his gossipy canine friend.

Hermione was making much better progress on the document in front of her as she munched on a
banana at her desk; it was lovely and peaceful in the department, mainly because almost everyone
was at lunch. They had all been enduring the agitated raised voice of Mr Gamp in the run up to
midday; he was still in his office at the end of the corridor taking lunch as he always did, but with
the absence of anyone in the room to shout at, the floor was blissfully quiet. With no other
disturbances, Hermione could hear the crinkling flutter of a memo pelting down the hall, and when
she threw her banana skin into the wastepaper basket it seemed to clang and echo like a bass drum
in the silence.

The memo, it turned out, was for her; she often wondered what Gamp would say if he knew how
many of the little planes that flew into Hermione's office each day were absolutely nothing to do
with work, but foolish errant thoughts from her easily- and eagerly- distracted boyfriend. This one
was no different.

Mrs Ogden,

Moony tells me I have managed to insult you – obviously you were not included under the heading
"tree hugging hippy-dippies" down there" since I do not have a death wish.

Prongs says Lily has another house for us to look at and as it's not far from them would like us to
come to dinner tonight, sound good?

Mr Ogden

P.S. My best name yet: Flora? It's not too starry – an asteroid actually, but that's enough to keep
Mother happy - and it hasn't be used before so our daughter won't grow up to find out her
namesake tried to publish a book on the ten best ways to cook muggles or something.

Hermione smiled in disbelief and gave a little nervous laugh. She had wondered ever since she had
realised she was pregnant if the "young Flora" Frederica had mentioned was her daughter rather
than a young Potter, but she hadn't said anything to Sirius. She hadn't really liked the idea that her
daughter would grow up to be Ron's girlfriend; somehow it seemed a little incestual even though
she knew that was ridiculous backwards logic. But Ron was a good man - well, the one she had
known was, so hopefully this one would be too. The other reason she had hoped that her conclusion
was wrong was that she had really wanted Harry to have a little sister, but of course any daughter of
Sirius's would be like a sister to Harry anyway, just as Sirius had found a brother in James and
Harry had found a whole family in the Weasleys.

It wasn't about blood at all in the end, as she supposed she had always known. It was about choice,
like everything - choose the right side to fight for, choose the people who are important to you, and
choose the things you need in life to be happy, Hermione thought. It sounded so ridiculously easy
when put like that, but then for her, someone who had agonised over nearly every decision in her
life, it was easy. Their lives weren't perfect of course, but compared to decisions she had made in
the past, the ones she was faced with now were a cinch. It wasn't like she had forgotten that people
had died or that she had left her friends behind forever, but she couldn't change it. She had
Dumbledore's notes on her timeturner, so there was a small flame of hope in the back of her mind
that one day she might be able to put everything to rights, but for the moment she was focused on
the mundane problems of a normal life – she had a strict boss who docked her pay if she was a
minute and a half late back from her tea break, her boyfriend's mother could be a right bitch at
times, and she had to use an unnaturally large amount of Sleekeazy's every morning to turn her
short hair from a blonde clown wig into an actual style - so really when she weighed it all up,
Hermione wasn't all that surprised to find she was content and grateful for the life she had chosen.

The End
 The Sequel - Twenty Eight
Chapter Summary

Welcome to the first chapter of the sequel of 169!

Twenty Eight is a work in progress and focuses on Remus's life at Hogwarts in
November 1993, Flora's adventures in the first term of her first year at Hogwarts and
Sirius's work at the Ministry. There is a bit of canonish romance too, Tonks and
Remus meet two years early in the AU after 169.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

5 th November 1993

"For Merlin's sake Prongs!" Sirius hissed angrily, as he crashed into James's back for the third time
in as many minutes.

"It's not my fault," James shot back annoyed, "the ceiling is so much lower than it used to be."

Sirius could just make out his friend's silhouette in the dark tunnel. He snickered to himself when
James started off again, and almost at once thunked his head on one of the dangling roots that
protruded into the passage.

"Bugger it," James said, as he rubbed his head, "Lumos."

"Hey! I thought we were on a secret mission here," Sirius complained, the sudden flaring of light
from James's wand was dazzling, "Won't it give our presence away if the statue starts glowing like
some sort of lady-Igor-angel?"

"We're not even in the castle yet," James countered, but he frowned in the direction of the
upcoming bend in the tunnel. It marked the transition from earth walls to stone ones. "I doubt the
light will travel that far."

Sirius had to admit James had a point, but it just wasn't in the spirit of the thing, he thought. He
couldn't deny however that progress was far more efficient when they could actually see where
they were going. Feeling slightly depressed that he and James could no longer tear along the tunnel
in the pitch dark – and they weren't even carrying cartons of miscellaneous contraband, as used to
be the norm – he hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder and followed on.

Remus was running late by the time he reached the hospital wing that stormy evening. His quick
trip to see the matron and have his pre-moon dose of wolfsbane dispensed had been way-laid by
Headmistress McGonagall. She had asked Remus for a letter explaining that hippogriffs were not
classed as dark creatures and were therefore perfectly suitable for study in a Care of Magical
Creatures class, and that in his humble (Voldemort vanquishing) opinion, any hippogriff that
attacks a child because the child wasn't listening and insulted it, shouldn't have to be put down. It
might seem onerous, but Remus really didn't mind attaching his name to things if it helped sort the
situation out. Having people take his opinion seriously was one of the perks of taking all the media
heat for Lily over the last twelve years.

Remus pushed open the door to the main ward of the hospital, and unlike the internal corridor
where thick stone walls muted the sound of tonight's violent weather, the hospital wing had large
windows which seemed to amplify the storm. There was heavy rain lashing the glass and Remus
could hear distant thunder rumbling out in the dark Highland night.

"Good evening Poppy," Remus began, determined to get his potion and get back to his office.
There was a stack of first year essays on the differences between a jinx and a curse that needed his
attention, and he needed to do it before his brain was dulled into the fogginess he still had to
endure in the final hours before the moon rose. Wolfsbane was a miracle, but that small side-effect
remained.

Remus was drawn up short however when the figure standing at the matron's office door turned to
face him. It was not Madam Pomfrey as he had first thought in his hurry, but a man wearing a
white smock over his robes similar to the one Madam Pomfrey normally wore when dealing with
patients.

His hair was dark and neat, his leather shoes so shiny they reflected the light from the gas lamps on
the walls. He wore a pair of heavy-framed glasses too, these were currently sliding down his nose
as his head was bent over a sheaf of parchment. The man was scratching furiously but he paused at
the sound of Remus's voice and looked up, pushing his glasses back into place. The man gave
Remus a brisk nod, "Good evening," he replied, doing only the smallest of double takes before
returning to his scribbling. Remus was very glad of this, he was not in the mood for inquisitive
strangers asking questions about his past.

"Look Mr Fawley, I'm sorry but these are all the records we have." the harassed sounding voice of
Madam Pomfrey said from out of sight. Several scrolls floated from within her office out towards
the dark haired man and his busy quill – Mr Fawley apparently. As Remus watched, the scrolls
began to pile themselves a Mr Fawley's feet, the orderly stack was several feet high by the time
Madam Pomfrey appeared. Her white cap was slightly askew above her agitated expression. "Why
the Ministry need to check the existence of patient records before Nineteen Hundred is beyond
me." she muttered as she re-pinned her cap.

Mr Fawley sighed, "We need to assure that all record keeping for all living patients is up to date, I
do not need to remind you that many wizards who attended Hogwarts at the turn of the century are
still alive, if they request a copy of their records we must be able to provide them with it."

"Yes yes." Madam Pomfrey tutted under her breath, "Right what's next then?" she asked and she
looked up, finally noticing Remus. "Ah Professor Lupin," she said, "you'll just have to wait a
minute I'm afraid, I've got your dose all ready to go in there," she gestured to the office behind her,
"but as you can see it's inaccessible at the moment."

Remus poked his head around the door to see that the pile of scrolls at Mr Fawley's feet were only
the beginning. The normally neat and tidy office-cum-sitting-room-cum-dispensary was a waist
high sea of parchment.

On the bench that ran along the opposite wall was the familiar sight of his wolfsbane potion. Two
glasses were set out on the metal tray, one larger than the other. The smaller one was a child-size
dose. Thankfully there was only one small glass this year, only one werewolf enrolled at Hogwarts.
Last year had been the last of students bitten during the war, two seventh year boys, both finished
school with six NEWTS each. Greta Reeves, the recipient of the small glass, was a tiny little thing,
bitten only two years ago in a freak attack.
Now that wolfsbane was widely available and free under the National Healing Service, attacks
happened so infrequently that people had almost forgotten the danger of werewolves. There was
still prejudice concerning the turning into an animal part of the condition, and employers disliked
the couple of days off that were necessary. But Remus definitely saw it as progress that
werewolves were now thought of as inconvenient rather than life-threatening.

"I'm rather in a hurry Poppy," Remus began, but gave up when he realised the matron was not
listening to him. She was too busy murmuring to herself about the pointlessness of what seemed to
be some sort of inspection as she went about opening cupboards to show Mr Fawley, and his
clipboard, the contents.

Mr Fawley had obviously requested to see something else because Madam Pomfrey had closed the
cupboards and now leading him off to another part of the ward. Remus contemplated whether the
telling off he would get from Madam Pomfrey for disturbing her century's worth of patient files
would be worth the extra ten minutes he would gain in his essay marking by wading through the
parchment and taking the potion. Because summoning an open topped beaker full nearly to the
brim with valuable medicine certainly wasn't a good idea. He'd probably spill it, and on the scrolls
filling the room no less. Definitely better to just wait he thought.

"Hello Professor," a small voice said from behind Remus. He startled and turned to see tiny Greta
Reeves smiling up at him shyly. Her lank ashy hair fell into her eyes as she peered into the office
too. "Is he still here then?" she asked.

"Er… Mr Fawley you mean?" Remus guessed.

"Yeah," said Greta, "he was here when Flora and I came to see Draco after dinner. Madam
Pomfrey seemed pretty sick of him already."

"Who Mr Malfoy, or Mr Fawley?"

Greta grinned a little wider, "Well both really, Flora says Draco wouldn't pretend to be hurt but we
heard Wood saying it was just so Slytherin didn't have to play in the storm tomorrow. But I meant
Mr Fawley, he's an inspector for the National Healing Service, he introduced himself while
Madam Pomfrey was off getting the gauze inventory for him."

"Oh," Remus said, he'd always thought Hogwarts hospital wing had its annual inspection over the
summer holidays, he'd spent a lot more time in the ward than most students and had never come
across an inspector. "Well I'm sure he's just doing his job."

Greta sat down on the end of the nearest bed, "Dad talks about him sometimes," she said, swinging
her legs. She peered around Remus to make sure Mr Fawley couldn't hear her, "says he's really per-
dan-tic, that's fussy right?"

"Right," Remus said, "I'd say being pedantic would be an advantage in his job. Does he inspect the
infirmary at Azkaban too?"

Greta nodded, "Yep, he's been doing it since not long after Dad started out there."

Greta's father, Archibald Reeves was something of a folk hero in the wizarding world, 'Guard
Archie' as the press called him, was the only remaining guard from the team that took over
Azkaban in the wake of the banished Dementors two years ago.

It had taken a long time to convince the wizarding community that the removal of the Dementors
was the right thing to do, most people thought that pushing for it was the reason Minister Bagnold
had lost the election to Fudge several years back. Fudge who was backed financially by a
suspiciously well informed Pollux Black. But even Fudge knew it needed to be done and the
Wizengamot had eventually pushed the bill through to banish the creatures from the island. But the
Dementors left the prison with a final gift for their human replacements. A curse that hung in the
air and clung to the walls of the crumbling stone fortress.

The team of new guards had begun to crack within weeks of deployment; depression, madness,
even suicide, leached through the ranks as the curse infected them. All were affected, except
Archie Reeves. Healers both for the body and mind were stumped, he seemed no different to
anyone else, and yet, he was just as sane as he had ever been. Ministry curse breakers cleared the
prison of all malicious magic, and the impervious Archie headed the new team that returned to
guard the inmates. The papers spun all sorts of nonsense about him, both good and bad; that Archie
was one casting the curse, not the Dementors had been popular in the beginning, but eventually the
most common story became that he was an extremely gifted Occulmens, and could therefore keep
his mind safe from the curse.

Remus however thought that he knew exactly why Archie was not affected like the others. It
reminded him very much of the story Hermione had told him so many years ago about Sirius's
decade long imprisonment. Sirius had kept his mind because he knew he was innocent, the
Dementors couldn't take that away because it wasn't a happy thought. Remus might never have
made this connection if he hadn't met Greta. Archie's wife, Greta's mother, was killed in the attack
that turned Greta into a werewolf; the attack occurred little more than a month before the changing
of the guard. Archie Reeves was a man in mourning when he took the job at Azkaban, Remus had a
feeling that the Dementors curse couldn't touch someone who was already so broken.

"How is your father?" Remus asked, as though he and Archie were old acquaintances, even thought
he'd only met him once, when Remus had taken little Greta her Hogwarts letter six months ago.

"He's fine," she said, her smile slipping slightly, "same as he always is."

Remus understood, Archie was a gruff fellow, he gave Remus the impression that if it wasn't his
little girl that had been bitten he'd have a rather old fashioned attitude to werewolves. Remus gave a
little nod, and changed the subject, "Third moon of the term," he said, "how are you finding it,
transforming at school?"

"Good," Greta said, her face brightening, "Madam Pomfrey is so kind, and it's nice to have a room
to myself for the evening, it's so peaceful."

"Would that be a slight on my goddaughter?" Remus asked slyly. Flora was often reprimanded for
whispering to her friends in class, she seemed almost incapable of silence.

"A little bit," Greta giggled. "She's such a chatterbox Professor, even talks in her sleep!" Greta
looked astounded that someone could possibly have so much to say. "Do you know, Beth said to
me that she wished she was a werewolf so that she could have a private room once a month and get
a good night sleep?"

Remus laughed at the absurdity of such a wish. How times had changed, he thought. "I shared a
dorm with her father for seven years," he said, "believe me, he was just as bad. I'll happily teach
you and Miss Longbottom how to cast a silencing charm on your bed curtains if you'd like."

Greta's eyes lit up, "Really? That would be brilliant."

"Professor Lupin?" Mr Fawley was back, his clipboard was nowhere in sight and his glasses were
tucked into his top pocket. Apparently he had finished his inspection.
Remus stood up, "How can I help?"

"I just wanted to shake your hand," he said, extending his own, "and apologise for delaying you
this evening."

Remus shook his hand obligingly, "No matter," he said, "You have a job to do, I've a lot of respect
for the National Healing Service, you've made my life and many others like me much easier."

Mr Fawley looked surprised, "Well, well thanks Professor, most people seem to think we take too
long to get things done, and when we finally get to them we ask them to fill in far too many
forms."

"I won't argue with you on the paperwork," Remus said with a chuckle, "but when the board
agreed to provide free wolfsbane to anyone who wanted it, a lot of lives were saved, I think that's
worth a few bits of parchment."

"Of course," Mr Fawley said.

"Right, Mr Fawley, you've done your bit, time to go." Madam Pomfrey said, walking the length of
the hospital wing swiftly, the tray bearing the two potion doses in her hands, "I've got patients to
see and records to update."

She scowled in the inspectors direction and he looked a little cowed, "I keep telling you Poppy, it's
not personal, every facility has to have the same standard –"

"Yes yes," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, "now away with you, I must actually tend to my patients if
you want to have anything to inspect next time."

Wisely, Mr Fawley didn't reply. He just smiled and nodded and turned to leave. On his way toward
the exit he paused to pick up his heavy looking satchel from where it had been sitting at the door to
Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Terribly sorry to keep you two waiting." the matron said, as she went about the usual pre-potion
tests; she took their temperatures, swabbed a bit of cotton inside their cheeks and dropped it in a
thimble-sized container of potion were it smoked and dissolved, both glasses of potion turning from
murky green to clear as the swab vanished. As she worked Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter
about the unjustness of it all. Apparently the Hogwarts hospital used to be exempt from N.H.S.
inspection, but some minor change in the law meant it was now included. No wonder Madam
Pomfrey was so grumpy.

Eventually they were allowed to swallow down the wolfsbane. Remus thought he must finally be
getting used to the repulsive flavour, because it didn't seem to taste as bad as usual. It was still
horrible of course, but he didn't want to throw up immediately. He supposed after twelve years one
could learn to tolerate anything.

Poor Greta however was retching with her hand clamped tightly over her mouth as not to let any
come back up. Remus patted her shoulder sympathetically.

After a few very liquid sounding hiccups she said hoarsely, "When I finish school I'm going to
invent a way to make wolfsbane taste better." She looked so determined Remus was quite sure she
would.

Moonrise wasn't until ten forty-five that November evening, so Remus had got in a decent bit of
essay marking before Professor McGonagall arrived at his door. It had become a full moon ritual
during the last school year, a walk with the Headmistress from his office on the second floor to
hers on the seventh.

After years of trial and error in methods of coping with his condition Remus had found that his
joints recovered much more quickly from his transformation if he exercised them in the hours
before the moon rose. While teaching at Hogwarts this pre-moon limbering came in the form of
evening rounds with the Headmistress, on the alert for trouble makers. More often than not it just
ended up being a pleasant stroll up through six floors to McGonagall's office – students looking to
break the rules tended to wait until after curfew, because they knew that the teachers were on the
alert around that time.

"I have good news Remus," Professor McGonagall said as they walked along the second floor
corridor. "Narcissa Malfoy has decided to withdraw her complaint after all."

"That is good news." he agreed, relieved despite internally wishing he'd prioritized essay marking
over letter writing earlier in the evening.

"Yes, I must say it's a weight off my mind," Professor McGonagall replied, with a sharp nod, "Still,
Hagrid was foolish to expose third years to the hippogriffs before they had learned and practiced
the correct protocol, without the beasts present." she added, her tone suggesting she had said the
words many times over in recent weeks.

"I believe Hagrid was given the position because of his enthusiasm for the subject," Remus said,
"not his lesson planning ability." Remus knew that Care of Magical Creatures enrolment had been
lacking of late, Professor Kettleburn had been somewhat hampered in delivering exciting lessons
by his only retaining fifty percent of the limbs he was born with. It is, after all, a very hard task to
wrangle a unicorn on a peg leg, and it's impossible to catch salamanders (and keep them alive) with
a hook.

When Silvanus Kettleburn had reached retirement the Headmistress had decided that the subject
was in need of fresh blood. Unfortunately the old adage was literal, and it was Draco Malfoy's
blood courtesy of an insulted Hippogriff.

Professor McGonagall let out a huff and said "Yes, well, that was the idea but Mr Malfoy is still
complaining of pain in his arm, though I suspect his captain is behind that," she mused, breaking
off to look out the window to the heavy downpour beyond, "I don't envy our players out in this
tomorrow," she said, "Wood is having a minor breakdown about the change in the draw due to Mr
Malfoys injury."

Remus chuckled, "Yes, Harry isn't too pleased with him either, Wood I mean, he kept Harry talking
so long about the game plan this morning that he was late to his defence lesson, Severus was
slightly less forgiving than I might have been in the same situation."

McGonagall gave him a stern look, "Now Remus I hope you haven't been playing favourites," but
the corner of her thin lips twitched. Remus knew she was remembering his first term teaching at
Hogwarts the previous year. Snape had accused him of just that, and Harry had not helped matters.
Twelve years old was apparently the age to rebel. But it had only taken six consecutive Saturday
nights spent in detention for Harry to learn that just because his 'Uncle Moony' was his teacher
didn't mean he would have an easy ride.

Remus had been somewhat dreading this year, because among the first year was his goddaughter
Flora who, he had to admit he found it much more difficult to be hard on than Harry. Thankfully
she seemed to have listened to Harry when he told her that 'Professor Lupin' was a right stick in the
mud. Remus only knew about this view of his character because Sirius and James had taken great
pleasure in re-laying Harry's warnings to Flora the previous Christmas holidays.

"Of course not Professor," Remus said. "Although I wish Severus didn't have to be quite so nasty to
them."

"Once again, a man who was employed for his enthusiasm for the subject rather than his
personality." Professor McGonagall said. "And he is mostly fair –'

"Potter and Black children excluded," Remus snorted, and McGonagall tutted at the interruption,
but didn't comment further.

Remus winced slightly at the twinge in his ankle as they began the assent of the staircase to the
third floor, he placed his next step more carefully.

While the wolfsbane potion meant Remus kept his mind during the hours the full moon was in the
night sky, he still suffered aches and pains during the day preceding the moon and wasn't up to
teaching. Thankfully, now that he just curled up in his wolf form and slept through the night he
was normally well enough to teach by the following afternoon. Remus's role in the downfall of
Voldemort, the public one, wherein he defeated the Dark Lord in single combat (rather than the
actual one: being the terrified and unplanned decoy Lily Potter needed to smite the evil bastard
from on high) meant that he could probably have still secured the Defence Against the Dark Arts
professorship even if he needed a week off to allow for the full-moon. He didn't of course, and
since he had spent the last twelve years trying to change the accepted public opinion of
werewolves; lazy unemployable monsters, and while he couldn't do anything about the monster
label – because it was technically true – the other two were changeable so he was always back at
work as quickly as possible.

Remus had only taken the position on Hermione's urging. He knew all about her first three years at
Hogwarts, thanks to her diligent records that he'd read during the war. The main difference was
that Voldemort was nothing but mouldering corpse kept somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry,
and so he was not up to possessing impressionable young Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers.
In fact the reason for the job vacancy was that Quirinus Quirrell, who had taught up until 1990,
was still on his grand tour – Because he hadn't had his travel plans interrupted and commandeered
by Voldemort. A retired Auror had taught during the 90-91 school year, but found children were
not as easy to control as Auror cadets and resigned after only three terms. This left the
Headmistress without a professor in the subject again and Hermione had begged Remus to apply
before the fraudulent Gilderoy Lockhart could get his overly manicured hands on the position.

Remus was sure Hermione's insistence was only because Flora was starting Hogwarts the
following year and she did not want to risk Lockhart still being in the job. Of course Harry and Ron
had not flown a car into the Whomping Willow so Ron had not broken his wand, and there was no
horcrux diary to open the Chamber of Secrets. Both events being necessary for the confrontation
between the cowardly Lockhart and the demined Harry and Ron that lost Lockhart his memory and
his job to occur. So it was possible that he would retain his position. Remus had agreed to apply for
job, unsettled by the idea of such a fraud teaching children.

Mr Weasley's car hadn't appeared in their lives until the summer just past. Harry and Ron had both
spent a significant part of the holidays in the dog box for gong with Fred and George in Mr
Weasley's car. Not for the noble reason of rescuing a locked up wizard boy from his nasty
relatives, but because they wanted to see if the car was faster in the air than Harry's new broom.
James had earned himself a severe look from Molly Weasley for asking the result of the race when
she pushed Harry through the floo for parental punishment following the incident.

Having said good-bye to McGonagall at the gargoyle of her office Remus made the journey back to
 his office alone. It was nearing ten in the evening, he always found the trip down stairs much
quicker than the climb to the seventh floor, his knees didn't twinge nearly as much and he was
always eagerly anticipating the very large cup of tea he would make the moment he reached his
rooms.

He still had forty-five minutes til moonrise, Remus smiled to himself as he compared this dignified
stroll followed by calm self-made tea, to his time as a student in the castle. At an hour to go Madam
Pomfrey had bundled up the bleary headed, and tea dependant teenager. Then they had headed out
into the chilly Scottish night to secure him in the shack for the full moon's monthly appearance.
While the addition of his friends as company had improved the experience for his last two and half
years of school remarkably, feeling so human all the way through the night was no comparison.
There was also the added bonus of not having to make the dash through all kinds of highland
weather, just lock his office door, stoke the fire and make a pot of tea. It was almost like any other
evening – except for not needing pyjamas and the excruciating five minutes of transformation at
moonrise and dawn.

Remus was extremely glad to be able to stay indoors tonight, he was far too old to be out on a
November night in a downpour like this one.

Remus was on the third floor when it happened. He heard rustling and quick footsteps, but thinking
it only an out of bed student he was taken completely by surprise when suddenly there were ropes
binding his ankles. He waved his left arm madly to try and keep his balance while his right hand
scrabbled inside his cardigan for his wand.

"I don't think so." said a voice that Remus really didn't want to recognise. It was accompanied by a
firm grip on the wrist of his wand-questing hand, and a sinister chuckle that made Remus think of
detention and reprimands long past.

"Oh Christ." Remus muttered and the laughter increased.

"That's the spirit Moony!" said James's cheery voice.

"Good grief, you're both here." Remus said, somewhat horrified at the castles lacking security.

Remus felt a strong twinge of regret as he realised that the cup of tea he'd been looking forward to,
and his lovely cosy rug, were going to go un-drunk and un-curled up on this evening.

Chapter End Notes

Please visit my Works page to read the three chapters currently posted.
Thanks!
George xx
 A Note from Soupy George

Hello,

You may remember me from such things as ten years ago, when I wrote this ridiculously long
story. *shows age with Simpsons reference*

This is just a note to say the 15 chapter sequel to 169 is finally finished after sitting untouched for
eight years.

I'm also writing a new Hermione/Sirius story, which will be posted later this year.

Both are on my profile here at Ao3, and under Mrs J's Soup at FFNet

Thanks for reading!

Soupy George xx

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