Chapter 13
Hermione awoke abruptly in the dark. She felt panic as the last tendrills of the nightmare clung to her, and reached out for Crookshanks to ground herself. When her hand connected with his warm fur she exhaled slowly. One thing to touch. Crookshanks, his breath is even, his fur silky and warm. Inhale. One thing to hear, the mantleclock ticking. Exhale. She felt the panic leave her, she could breath. She reached under her pillow and pulled out her wand, casting a light to the clock. 3am, and wide awake. That’s what I get for throwing myself a pity party all day. Not that she could help it. The only thing that could have gotten her out of that bed today would have been Voldemort himself dragging her out by her hair. That , or O.W.L.S. Maybe.
She stretched and rolled out of bed, padding softly (but swiftly) to the bathroom. Feeling more human after washing her face and changing into fresh pajamas, she decided to venture in search of food and a chamomile tea. Grimmauld Place, in the daytime was derelict and slightly ominous. In the night, it felt like nightmares come to life, as if she had stepped into a horror film. In the dimly lit hallway of the townhouse, the gas lamps burned low, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The flickering light barely illuminated the dusty portraits of long-dead ancestors that lined the corridor, their eyes following her as she passed. She could feel the judgement in those stares, see their grimaces and sneers as they restrained themselves from spewing the same vitriol as the grand portrait of Walburga Black downstairs. It must be self preservation, She thought, these portraits must know they are on thin ice, not protected by the permanent sticking charm Walburga had placed on her own artistic monstrosity. The air was heavy with the scent of age and decay, sending shivers down her spine as she made her way through the dim hall.
As she walked further into the darkness, the creaking boards of the stairs beneath her feet added to the sense of foreboding that hung in the air. Each step down was another echoing creak of wood, announcing to whatever lurked in the shadows that someone was awake, there was prey to be found. Stop it, She scolded herself. This is your imagination, and you are a witch for goodness’s sake! Hermione was very good at using logic to figure out problems. Being logical did not, however, stop anxiety from creeping in to make her doubt herself.
Finally she reached the kitchen, so releaved to be at her destination she rushed straight inside. She walked quickly to the stove, intent on making a cup of tea before she gave up on the quest entirely and raced back to her room to spend the remainder of the night with her covers over her head like a toddler. She was so focused she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, Kitten.” Sirius said softly from the table.
Hermione shreiked and jumped back, banging her elbow on the iron stove. She cursed and cupped her throbbing joint.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said sincerely, waving his wand and lighting several candles on the table.
“It’s ok.” She replied shakily, her heart still hammering in her chest. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He responded, a slight edge to his voice hinting at there being a story behind his insomnia. “How are you feeling? You slept the whole day.”
She flushed. “I know..Im sorry. I just, couldn’t.” She paused, unsure what to say or how much she wanted to give away. Rather than burdon him with her troubles, she busied her hands making a pot of tea. “Would you like a cup?” She asked softly.
“Please.”
It took no time at all to prepare two cups of tea and settle in at the table. She found some scones in the breadbox and laid them out on the table as well, fussing over laying out butter and jam to delay sitting. Finally there were no more tasks to delay and she joined Sirius at the table, curling her hands around her warm mug and staring into her teacup.
“You know, you have to drink the tea first to read the leaves.” He said idly, taking a sip of his own drink.
She snorted and glanced over at him. “You don’t honestly believe in tea leaves.”
“I heard about your dislike of divination. I would venture a guess that has more to do with Sybil Trelanley rather than an actual understanding of the craft. Tea leaves, tarot, crystal balls- tools real seers can use to refine their natural talents. But not a skill that can be used without that natural ability, no matter how much Sybil wishes otherwise.” He gave her a wry smile and took another sip.
“The why even teach Divination at Hogwarts?” She pondered, taking her own small sip. She relished the feeling of the warm tea in her dry throat, feeling it hit her empty stomach which growled with a sudden audible ferocity. Sirius pushed the plate of scones closer to her and she took one, not even pausing to butter it before taking a huge bite.
“Sorry” she said around the bite, covering her hand with her mouth. Least I forget all manners, oh Merlin I’m eating like Ron.
Sirius chuckled. “I think we can forgo high tea manners. You haven’t eaten in at least a day, and you’ve definatly seen me worse.”
Hermione remembered the day they had taken a bag of stolen food to him in that cave. Filthy, bone thin and staving, he had lived in a cave and survived on rats and scraps just to be close to Harry, to be there if he needed him. She had watched him suck the meat off the chicken legs they brought him and felt heartsick. How could a man this devoted to the people he loved have ever been suspected of murdering his friends. She thought sadly.
“Why can’t you sleep?” She asked finally, the first scone nothing but crumbs as she reached for another. The question had left her without forethought, and she winced as she realized how insensitive it was. “Never mind, I’m sorry, I-”
Sirius twisted his mouth into a sort of smile.
“Don’t worry. It’s ok. Nightmares and regrets, that’s all. Nothing new for me, I’m afraid.” He sighed heavily.
Hermione reached out tentatively and laid her hand over his tattooed one. “Same. Nightmares, I mean.” She shuddered, her last nightmare still lingering in her mind.
He clasped her hand back a moment before gently shifting away to take a sip of his tea. He sighed, a deep, weary sound.
“The twins, they told me what happened.” He said, pausing to wait for her reaction. She sighed and he shoulders slumped.
“I thought they might. They didn’t want to let me take the blame.”
“Dumbledore..he thinks you might have been lying about the Death Eaters, might have started that fire yourself. The twins ‘somehow’ (he made air quotes with his hands and grinned) found out, and asked me what to do. They’ve been worried about you all day.”
“I didn’t mean to worry anyone. It was just too much…I was so sad I felt like I couldn’t move.” She whispered, looking down. She had never told anyone about her ‘sad days’ as she called them, preferring to power through them as best she could and put on a show of normalcy.
“I’ve had enough days that felt like that.” Sirius ran a nervous hand through his hair again, shifted, then took a sip of his tea.
“Why- why would Dumbledore think of me that way?”
“I think he’s not used to people defying him. I’m not sure he’s the man I thought he was, though.” He sighed again.
“It’s hard, being back here. Nights are the hardest, there’s nothing to stop the memories.” His eyes drifted to the fire, burning so low it was hardly more than smoldering logs.
“The worst times of my life- before Azkaban-were in this house. My parents-my family. Surely you can guess what type of Wizards they were.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “They were as loving as you can imagine. I remember how furious James was when he found out, eleven years old and ready to kidnap me so I could live in his closet over breaks.” He half-smiled over the memory.
“I know that feeling.” She murmured. “My house didn’t look like a showroom for Burgon and Burkes, but my parents were…cold. I wasn’t surprised by what they did. Hurt, but not surprised. “
“Hogwarts was the first time I felt like I had what a real family should be. James, Remus…Peter.” He snarled the last name, the brother of his heart whose betrayal had been worse than his brother by blood.
“That was me, too. Hogwarts was the first time I had friends. The first place I felt I might belong…even with my heritage.” Hermione pushed away from the table and poured herself more tea to have a outlet for her nervous energy. She wasn’t used to being forthright about her feelings, or the truth of her home life. Harry had too much to worry about, and rather than bond with him over their shared trauma of growing up unwanted she had tried to shelter him from her truth, knowing his empathetic heart would bleed for her. As far as Ron was concerned, she saw him as a typical teen boy. A bit selfish, prone to jealousy (coddled as the youngest son) and not unsympathetic so much as not comfortable enough with hard topics or emotions to be any help. There was no reason she could ever find to tell them, and she had reasoned if they ever asked , asked why she didn’t go home for hols, asked why she never received mail, asked why during her many extended stays in the hospital wing her parents had never visited, asked why she was allowed to spend every summer with them, she would tell. Then years passed and there was always some emergency distracting all of them from the petty dramas of home life, and they never had.
“I reasoned others had it worse, Harry had it worse, so I never said anything. I didn’t want to be selfish and make myself the center of attention. So what if my parents didn’t want me? I was fed and clothed and had an education. But more than that…I guess I thought- sometimes I think- I deserve it. Something must be wrong inside me, that even other children didn’t care for me, until I met Harry.” She spoke with her head down, directly into her steaming mug of tea.
“When I was your age, living here became…unbearable. Even spending most of the year at Hogwarts and hols with Jame’s family wasn’t enough. My parents wanted me to pledge to Voldemort, like my darling little brother did. ”
She gasped, her teacup freezing before her lips. “Your brother was a-”
“Yeah. Signed up like a proper little soldier and replaced me as the heir for it. Heard he got cold feet and Voldemort killed him, maybe even personally.”
“I’m so sorry, Sirius.” She said quietly, her eyes filling with sympathetic tears. “I thought I had it bad, but-”
“Don’t, Hermione. It’s old wounds- just being here makes them feel fresh sometimes. I’ve been trapped in the past for so long, sometimes it’s hard to be in the present.” He sighed again, running his hands through his hair. “When my parents disowned me…they left me for dead. Beating me into submission was nothing new for Orion Black, but not patching me up after was. My mother had Kreacher leave me on the front steps of the Potter’s home. “ He paused, taking a shuddering breath as he fought the ghosts of his past. “Fleamont and Leonora, Jame’s parents, saved me. Adopted me as their own, gave me a real family. I know I’m not much…a criminal with a tainted legacy, but I would like to be that for you, and Harry. A home, a…family, if you’d let me.” He paused and swallowed, staring down into his cup. “If I get pardoned, I mean. I know you’d probably prefer-”
Hermione lunged forward, snatching his hand off the table and grasping it tightly. She met Sirius’s haunted eyes with tears shining in her own.
“I’d like that- I-.” She paused, swallowing a lump in her throat. “ You will be pardoned, Sirius. I’ve already contacted an American barrister willing to take your case to the Wizgamont. The letters are in the back of the binder.”
“Hermione, you are a wonder, you know that?” He whispered, overcome with gratitude.
“What about Dumbledore? He’s not going to let you take Harry from the Dursley’s, no matter what those monsters do to him. “
“Dumbledore had no say in me claiming my Godson, once my name is clear.”
They sat in silence for a long time, sharing the comfort of silence and the promise of better things to come. When the tea had cooled, and Hermione started yawning, Sirius walked her to her room. He bid her goodnight, and Hermione paused in the doorway, suddenly unsure of herself.
“Sirius?”
“Yes Kitten?”
“Thanks…for the talk.”
“Anytime, Kitten.”
She shut her door, quickly climbing back into bed with Crookshanks. She felt lighter, like some of the weight of the last few days had lifted just by talking about it. It wasn’t that the sadness had gone away, but around it was a blanket of hope that hadn’t been present that morning. She fell asleep quickly with Crookshanks in her arms, feeling that maybe her future wasn’t so bleak after all.