Chapter 13:  Sirius Returns

 

        The telephone rang the following day. It had rung many times in the beginning of the week and almost nonstop before the funeral. Hermione had never once answered it. She did today though. But then, she knew who was calling.

        Draco was only mildly interested as she scooped the phone off the base and turned away from him. He had settled cheerfully into Sirius' place on the sofa and was highly enjoying a sampling of Saturday afternoon television. He had never stopped being intrigued by muggle technology and Hermione was sure that if circumstances were different he would get along famously with Arthur Weasley.

        She took a deep breath, rested the receiver against her ear, "Hello." She said simply.

        "Hermione," Harry's voice was crisp, clear, and the probably the most wonderful thing that Hermione had ever heard.

        "Hi Mum," Hermione replied after only a second's pause.

        "You're not alone? Who's there?" Harry's voice was worried.

        "Draco is here, as was Sirius but he left yesterday." Hermione walked into the kitchen under the pretense of getting something to drink.

        "Tell your Mum that I said hi." Draco called after her.

        "Sirius? Why was Sirius there? And Malfoy, can't you get rid of him?" Harry's voice was worried; they had never planned on unexpected guests.

        "No, I haven't been able to, but Draco is helping me with a spell that I'm working on." Hermione's voice remained calm as she spoke but internally her mind was spinning, it was wonderful to hear Harry's voice.

        "Will the spell be done? Will you be ready? He's getting braver every day, I know that he's going to come out of hiding and attack the Ministry face to face. Ron still thinks that he'll go for Hogwarts first but I'd bet all the money in Gringotts that he's still afraid of Dumbledore." Harry's voice had risen. It often did when he spoke of Voldemort. Harry's hatred for the Dark Lord had surpassed every other emotion that the young man felt. It frightened Hermione sometimes.

        "I'll try Mum, you know that I will." Hermione leaned against the counter and closed her eyes.

        "We've followed the trail into Budapest but Ron and I both think that he's going to swing back towards England soon. That's where it's going to happen Hermione. It started in England, it will end in England." Harry's voice became soothing, "are you all right? How are things with everyone?"

        Hermione sighed and brushed a wayward curl back behind her ear, "I don't know how you're going to explain it. I don't know if they'll understand."

        There was a long pause from the other end before Harry spoke again, "they'll have to understand, it was the only way. I have to end it."

        "We have to end it," Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper.

        Harry didn't reply, he didn't need to; he understood perfectly what she meant. They had promised long ago to do it together. Hermione and Ron had gladly taken up the burden that Harry had shouldered.

        "I have to go Hermione."

        "I know."

        Harry paused on the other end, Hermione knew that he was trying to form the words that needed to be said to reassure her. But what the original plan seemed much different from this side and it was hard to be comforting. "Be ready, Hermione, be ready."

        "Be careful." Hermione said softly in reply.

        There was sharp click and the line went blank, leaving Hermione alone once again.

~*~*~*~

        Hermione turned the water off and slid open the opaque glass door. She toweled off quickly, shook as much water from her hair as was possible, and pulled a flannel nightgown over her head. Her mother had given it to her the year before. It was off white with tiny pink roses. The sleeves and hem ended in a pretentious flounce of ruffle while miniscule pearly buttons went all the way up to the hollow of her throat. Hermione hated it. She hardly ever wore it. Ron always teased her about it. He claimed that it made her look like some heroine from a Victorian gothic mystery. Not that Ron would know what a heroine from a Victorian gothic mystery would look like even if the heroine in question came up and beat his head in with a candelabra. But Ron wasn't there to tease her and it was awfully cold outside.

        Hermione tucked her wet hair back behind her ears and opened the door to her bedroom. She stopped. She had only been in the shower for a few minutes and yet somehow Draco had managed to take complete possession of her bed. He lay diagonally across it on his stomach. The blanket was trapped underneath him. Two pillows cushioned his down turned face while another was ensnared beneath his right arm. Hermione didn't even want to wonder where the other pillow was.

        She sighed deeply before deciding that she wasn't that tired anyway. Hermione pulled another blanket from her wardrobe and carefully laid it over Draco. He murmured lightly in his sleep but didn't wake up.

        The flat was dark but Hermione didn't need any light to find her way. In the kitchen she lit a candle with the tip of her wand. She pulled the bag of coffee grinds from the icebox and carefully measured in the proper amount. Hermione poured the water in and pushed the button. Nothing happened. Frowning Hermione pushed it again with the same result. She reached behind the accursed appliance and jiggled the cord.

        "Come on," Hermione moaned pushing the buttons again.

        "Do you want me to do it?"

        Hermione turned so quickly that she knocked the bag of grinds over, spilling them across the counter. Sirius raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

        "Sirius!" Hermione's voice was high and panicked, "don't sneak up on me!"

        He raised his hands in front of him apologetically, "I hadn't meant to scare you. But might I suggest putting some wards on your front door?"

        "Harry and Ron usually take care of that." Hermione told him as she fought down the endorphins that had arisen over her shock.

        Sirius approached her and started adjusting the settings on the coffee maker. Hermione stood silently next to him watching his strong hands as he began to sweep the grinds back into the bag. The coffee pot was forgotten as a stream of dark coffee began to pour from the bottom.

        "It's late," Sirius said gently without looking at her, "you should be sleeping."

        Hermione fingered the ruffle of one sleeve; she really did hate this nightgown. "Draco stole my bed and I'm not particularly tired anyway."

        "Stole?" Sirius questioned lightly although Hermione saw his shoulders stiffen as he turned his back to her to put the bag back in the freezer, "aren't you sharing it?"

        Hermione knew perfectly well what he meant by that question and unlike Draco she saw no need to let Sirius think that there was something more between them than there was. "Sirius, I'm not sleeping with Draco."

        He turned to look at her now, obvious disbelief in his dark eyes.

        "You think that I'm lying?" Hermione questioned, not particularly offended.

        Sirius had the good sense to look embarrassed, "No, no of course I don't think that you're lying. It's just that he seems very affectionate." Sirius' voice dropped to a low growl over his last few words.

        Hermione sighed and pulled herself up easily onto the counter the soft flickering candle casting moving shadows across the kitchen. She was glad that the low light didn't allow for the flowers on her nightgown to be seen. Sirius stood watching her a few feet away. Hermione was surprised to realize that she was glad that he was back.

        "He's only being doing that to annoy you." Hermione smiled at him slightly. "He seems to think that you're jealous."

Sirius looked away from her and turned to the cabinet behind him and extracted two mugs. Hermione studied his back. Draco wasn't right, was he? She couldn't even imagine why he would be jealous.

        "Why did you come back?" Hermione asked the question before she even realized that she wanted to know.

        Sirius turned back to her, "to protect you. I can't very well do that if I'm off sulking somewhere can I?"

        Hermione sighed dully and leaned back against the cabinets, "I don't need you to protect me Sirius."

        Sirius smiled grimly, "I know that you don't. But I'll protect you anyway if I can."

        Hermione closed her eyes. It was pointless arguing about it with him. Didn't he understand that she didn't appreciate the gesture? That she never had? She didn't need looking after like some pet goldfish that Harry had left unattended.

        "I've never hated you." His was soft, deep, and very close to her.

        Hermione opened her eyes. Sirius was only a few inches away from her. All he had to do to touch her was lean forward ever so slightly. Hermione marveled at how silent he was all the while a tiny thrill began to thrum gently along her spine.

        "I know that," Hermione whispered not knowing why, "I was upset and I over reacted a bit. I know that hate is a bit strong."

        Sirius frowned as if puzzled about something. "Don't you understand?" He asked moving imperceptibly closer.

        Hermione's internal alarm sounded and subconsciously she began to slide a little farther away from him but Sirius grasped her arm stopping her retreat.

        "Do you remember the first time you spoke to me?" His eyes were so dark.

        Hermione found that her mouth had gone painfully dry so she simply shook her head.

        Sirius chuckled ruefully, "No, I don't suppose that you would, but then that's the type of person that you are. You called me Mr. Black."

        Hermione struggled to remember, but she had been so frightened that night it was hard to recall such an insignificant detail. "So?" She finally managed to speak.

        "You were the first individual to talk me like I was a person. The first in twelve years that didn't make me feel like a murderer. You were amazing." His voice was so low that it could hardly be heard.

        Hermione's eyes went wide at the sudden compliment. He hadn't said anything like that to her in years. Not since her sixth year. "I...I'd never really thought about it like that." Hermione whispered. And then something clicked in her brain, something that she had never even considered before, something that her modesty wouldn't ever have allowed as a possibility.

       Sirius was so close to her now that she almost felt his warm breath against her face. His grip on her arm hadn't lessened at all. But he wasn't hurting her.

        "Sirius," Hermione breathed, "what were you protecting me from?"

        Sirius' hand tightened. His eyes looked pained and uncertain. When he answered her question, his voice was one that she hadn't heard from him in a long time.

        "I was protecting you from myself."

        And then he closed the pitiful distance that separated them and kissed her.

 

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