Chapter 17:  Invasion of Privacy

        She was dreaming. Hermione knew that she was. There wasn't any other explanation for what she was seeing. Harry and Ron weren't dead. It wasn't possible. She knew with every fiber of her body that she was not in a dark cave looking at the bloodied bodies of her two best friends.

        She rubbed her eyes.

        It didn't help.

        "This isn't real." Hermione told herself. "This is only a dream."

        "Yes child, tell yourself that if it helps."

        Hermione spun from Harry and Ron to face the owner of the voice. The owner in robes as black as melted evil was standing only a few feet from her. His crimson eyes flashed in amusement.

        "Voldemort." Hermione whispered, her voice fragile but holding.

        

        "You would be surprised how many people in your situation have also blamed their dreams for their current predicament."

        "But I really am dreaming." Hermione told him desperately, "I know that I am."

        He began walking towards her and Hermione backed up equally for each of his steps. Her dark blue robes rubbed against the dank wall behind her and she stopped. Voldemort reached out one white hand to touch her cheek. It was icy, frozen, and Hermione flinched away from it.

        "I feel real enough, do I not?"

        Hermione closed her eyes tightly willing herself to wake up. She ignored the caress of his breath on her cheek. She ignored the cold that emanated off of his body. She ignored the stench of blood in the air. "It's only a dream. Only a dream. I'll wake up. I'll wake up." Hermione began repeating to herself.

        "You seem so determined." His voice was soothing.

        Hermione opened her eyes. His red ones were mere inches from hers.

        "Tell me child, how do you know that this is a dream and not a nightmare come true?" His perfect white teeth glinted like fangs in the low light of the cave.

        Hermione took a steadying breath as she suddenly felt more secure. "I know that this is a dream because I won't let them die first."

~*~*~*~

It was so very warm. Her eyes opened slowly. It was too warm. She tried to sit up but a heavy weight was pressing into her back, making her efforts harder.

        "Draco?!" She cried out as she shoved him off of her bed.

        "Huh? What?" He mumbled sleepily from the floor.

        Hermione snatched her wand up from the small bedside table and turned on a lamp with a quick flick. She leaned over the bed and scowled angrily at the young man. "What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed?" She said every word slowly while trying to keep her voice down.

        "Well, I don't know what you do in beds, Hermione. But I was trying to sleep." He rubbed at his grey eyes and yawned.

        "I know that you were sleeping." Hermione hissed, "You were practically sleeping on top of me!"

        His eyes brightened, "I was?"

        Hermione fumed, "This isn't funny! I thought I told you to sleep on the couch?"

        "What?" He mumbled as he stood up. "Oh yeah, you did. Not very comfortable, you do realize that, right? Seriously, Hermione, if I had been aware of the shoddiness of your living room furniture I would have bought you a new set for your birthday."

        She wasn't about to let him change the subject. Hermione grabbed a glass of water off her bedside table and shook it warningly at him. "Draco..."

        He quickly stepped backwards and held up his hands. "Mercy, please. I was sleeping out there but your convict came out a few hours ago and started doing things. I couldn't get a wink of sleep with him pottering about. And you know I need my beauty sleep, Granger." He gave her his most adorable little boy grin.

        Hermione lowered the glass of water, "What type of things?"

        Draco approached the bed cautiously and Hermione crawled backwards on it allowing him some room to sit down. He stretched again, purposely flexing his bare back enticingly. Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew that Draco couldn't be rushed. He was too much of a peacock to let a chance to show off his physique go unfulfilled. Finally done preening, Draco fluffed a pillow and slumped backwards with an exaggerated yawn.

        "He was looking through your books. Your notes too."

        Hermione shot off the bed in a jumble of bed sheets. She spun on him, her eyes bright and furious. "And you let him!"

        Draco sat up and studied her. His teasing attitude had vanished. "Is there a reason why he shouldn't?"

        Hermione opened her mouth once or twice wordlessly before spinning on her heal and sprinting out of her room.

Draco sighed, rolled over, and pulled the blanket up over his head.

        Sirius was sitting at her desk. Her journals and papers were spread everywhere. Her most private possessions were laid bare before him. On the desk in front of him, on the floor around him, on the sofa, there were even some on the old telly. He held a paper of hers from her second year at Aylesbury in his hands.

        "Wh...what are you doing?" Her voice was trembling.

        Sirius glanced quickly over his shoulder at her. He was so engrossed in his reading that he hadn't heard her leave the bedroom. His dark eyes lingered on her face for longer than was necessary before drifting back to the paper in his hands. "I never knew that you studied with Bankotsu Schichinintai while you were at Aylesbury."

        "Those are mine." Hermione said quickly ignoring his questions.

        "He is a master in his field. You rarely see teachers of the Reinou-Senkennomei outside of Asia. From everything that I've heard he's an amazing man." His voice was very soft.

        Hermione took a step towards him. It was dim in the living room. Her small desk lamp was on but through the windows she could see the sky beginning to lighten into early morning. "Those are mine." She repeated desperately.

        Sirius continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Remus wanted to study with him. Did you know that he thought about becoming an Auror too? Wouldn't take him because of his being a werewolf though."

        "Sirius!" Her voice was high and she was starting to feel light-headed, a sure sign that tears were not far off.

        "Harry never mentioned him. But then Harry never seemed to like to tell me anything that you were doing if he could help it." Sirius smiled ruefully. "He always looked out for you."

        Hermione's voice was bordering on hysterical. "Why have you done this?"

        

        "Why have I gone through all your work?" Sirius turned to look at her again. "I thought that would have been obvious."

        Hermione shook her head quickly as she stooped to pick up a journal from her Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class that she had taken several years ago. "No, it's not obvious." Her tone was sharp.

        He was going through her most prized possessions. Pawing through them like they meant nothing. Didn't he understand that her work, her research, her knowledge was all part of her soul? How could he do this? These papers meant so much to her. There were so many secrets hidden inside of them. Hermione felt sick. She clutched the journal to her chest with one hand while the other one pinched the bridge of her nose.

Sirius seemed to realize that he was in very deep trouble for he stood quickly. "I wasn't snooping," he said defensively, "if that's what you think."

        "Tell me what you were doing then?" Hermione snapped, eyes finally filling with tears that she would have sold her soul to keep bottled up. "Are you looking for my Death Eater Registration card? Here, let me help you." Hermione stepped past him to one of her bookshelves and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This is where I keep all my hidden correspondences. Maybe I have a letter to Voldemort here!" She reached into the sheaf and pulled out a handful of cards. "Oh no, sorry, these are all birthday cards from my grandparents. But maybe if you read them very closely you'll discover some nasty piece of incriminating evidence."

"Hermione," Sirius tried to interject but she wasn't listening.

"Wait," Hermione waved a shaking hand at him, "wait, if that doesn't help you then maybe these will." She dropped the letters to the ground.

Sirius visibly flinched at the shower of brightly colored cards with little girls in sunbonnets emblazoned upon them.

Hermione crossed to another bookshelf and pulled out a journal. "Here, here are all the notes that I took in my seventh year Potions class. Don't mind the sulfur stains on page twenty-four that was Neville's fault. But maybe in here you'll find the recipe for the potion that I used to make Harry and Ron like me. But no, I think this one is all class-work oriented." Hermione dropped this to the floor too and turned around, scanning the bookshelves. "Where oh where did I put that 'I am so very evil' manifesto that I wrote up last year."

"Hermione, please..." Sirius tried again.

Hermione moved quickly past him as he reached for her. "Ah-hah! Here it is! The single most damning piece of evidence!" Hermione wiped angrily at the tears on her face as she rummaged through a drawer in her desk and pulled out a small slip of paper. "Oh no, that's my Christmas list." Hermione was trembling.

"Hermione," his voice was low, pleading. "Hermione, stop this, you're hysterical."



She let the paper flutter to the ground. Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "Tell me Sirius, tell me what you're looking for." The anger was gone from her liquid brown eyes leaving only pain.

        He sent a whole sheaf of parchment to the floor in his rush to reach her. "Please don't cry anymore." His voice was desperate. Sirius raised his hands to take her shoulders but he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to touch her. Whether he was afraid that she would push him away or because of some other reason Hermione couldn't tell. "I hadn't meant any harm. I only wanted to understand."

        Hermione lowered her head unable to look him in the eyes. "Understand what? How I could betray my best friends?"

        "No, damn it, I know that you didn't betray them." He did grab her now in order to give her a shake, "I wanted to understand you."

        "Me?" His answer so surprised her that she stopped crying. "What is that supposed to mean?"

        "I don't understand you at all, Hermione." His hands loosened but didn't let go. "I've never understood why you were willing to put yourself into such danger. You've always been this way. Always willing to fight the fight that nobody else wanted."

        Hermione didn't know what to say.

        "I don't know how to deal with someone who is so selfless. But I want to."

        "I'm not selfless." Hermione sniffed, "I do lots of selfish things. I never share my cookies. And I never let Ron or Harry copy from me. And once I spent so much money on a robe that I didn't need that I had to borrow from Harry!"

        Sirius gently pulled her to him, his arms encircling her back, his chin resting perfectly atop the crown of her hair.

        Hermione went rigid at this contact. A few hours ago she had been in a very compromising position with him in the kitchen but she was acting now, for all intents and purposes, as if he had never touched her in his life.

        "I'm sorry, Hermione." Sirius squeezed her a little bit tighter. "I'm sorry for thinking that you might in some way be responsible for Harry and Ron. I'm sorry that I blamed you simply because there was no one else to blame." He leaned farther down, curving her body against his, his cheek resting now against her temple. "I'm sorry for your loss."

        Hermione melted.