Her Mr Black
Hermione Granger felt confused. She didn't understand, and if there was one thing Hermione Granger despised more than anything is feeling as if she didn't understand. She was positive that man had been Sirius, how could she not. Tall, dark hair, sharp aristocratic features, brown scruffy beard, even the clothes he wore were eerily similar to that the fugitive. But when she had grabbed him, a scold on the tip of her tongue, how stupid could he be to come out in public, and she had looked into his eyes, his brown eyes, she felt nothing but shock.
That man was not Sirius Black. But he was definitely a Black. She saw the dark ringlets in the portrait that screamed slurs at her everyday, and the pouty lips from her host. That man was related, but how? The Blacks had been wiped out, with Sirius being the only one who held the name. There was a chance that the man was simply related and wasn't a Mr Black, but she just couldn't see anything else in him. Even his brown eyes were similar to that of Walburga Black.
And as she sat in that old Black home, she realised she was in the presence of just the source of information she needed. The Black Family Tree.
Slipping down the stairs, when everything was still. Ginny sleeping soundly back up in their room, with everyone safely tucked into their own beds. Hermione held her hand to the wall, guiding herself around in the dim light of the corridor, before entering the room she knew held the Black Family Tree. The candle she had snagged on her way in, lit up with a flick of her wand, she was too sleepy to manage more than a simple lighting spell. She walked along the side of the room, tracing the roots with her finger, analysing the portraits of every Black that had been in existence since the building of Number 12 Grimmauld Place had been built.
Hermione felt her finger darken with soot as she found the burnt out holes where former members were once placed. Sirius had mentioned his cousin, Andromeda had been blasted off for marrying a muggleborn, maybe her mystery Black was blasted off like her. She felt herself smile when she found the empty hole that had 'Sirius' painted elegantly below it.
"Hermione?"
Hermione jumped, holding the candle out defensively, before the flickering light revealed the exhausted features of her former teacher,
"Professor Lupin! I- uh I'm so sorry! I was just curious about the tree!" She said hurriedly, pulling the candle back,
"It's okay, but can I ask why you're doing it so late?" He asked, Hermione flushed,
"I was really curious." She mumbled, shiftly sheepishly. Lupin smiled,
"Of course, were you looking for someone in particular?"
Hermione licked her dry lips, unsure of how to answer, on one hand, if Remus knew who she was talking about he could point her in the right direction, but on the other, she had a sinking feeling that whoever her Mr Black was, he would either be blasted off and if he wasn't, then that had its own implications.
"No, I was just wondering who was left. How many of the Blacks you know are still around." She answered, avoiding his eyes. Remus hummed, walking towards her from his place in the doorway,
"Well if your looking for living people you're in the wrong section, I'm afraid you're touching the only living member on that part." She looked down to see that her finger was still pressed to Sirius' old portrait. Remus stopped next to her, tracing the line next to Sirius' with his own finger, before stopping at another portrait,
"This is Sirius' younger brother, Regulus, he past away sometime around when the war ended. If he wasn't a death eater, I'd say he was alright. He and Sirius didn't always have the best relationship, but I didn't have to be a werewolf to see that once Sirius ran to James, that the kid was grieving." Remus told her, looking far too affectionate to be stroking the painted cheeks of his best friend's younger brother. Hermione craned her neck to see any of the features of Regulus Black, but his face was shrouded in Remus' shadow.
Hermione let herself be drawn in to the quiet tales that Remus told about the Black Family, all stories he had heard from Sirius. Her sleepy footsteps followed the werewolf, before she realised that the man had blown out her candle and was using his enhanced sight to see through the dark. She was brought into deceptively strong arms, and was carried up the stairs of Grimmauld Place. Remus placed her into her bed, careful not to wake Ginny, and tucked her in, before leaving, shutting the door with utmost silence. Hermione dozed, her mind sluggish and soothed, before finally sleep enveloped her.
It was two days before Hermione ventured back to look at family tree, the daylight making it far easier to analyse each portrait. She had a moment to herself to giggle hysterically at Draco Malfoy's portrait, supremely hideous, she thought. She saw his mother, a vastly more attractive woman, with sharp eyes, and pouty lips, the pouty lips she saw on her Mr Black. She saw Bellatrix, who she knew as a psychopath and a formidable death eater. Bellatrix had the tight ringlets of that Walburga had, the dark curls that her Mr Black had. Andromeda was blasted off, as was Sirius, but she didn't have to go far to see Sirius and she definitely didn't need to confirm that her Mr Black looked similar. Before finally she looked to the one Regulus Black, dark ringlets, brown chocolate gaze, and those pouty lips. Now finally illuminated by light instead of covered by darkness.
Regulus Black was her Mr Black.
But Regulus Black was dead. She traced his blank stare, her Mr Black's eyes flashing within her mind. The confusion in his eyes when they made eyes contact. The twitching of his muscle under her hand, like a snake coiled to fight. Unless zombies looked incredibly alive, either Regulus Black was apart of the living, or suddenly had a twin. And Hermione Granger felt her logic creeping towards the former, considering she was staring at a magical family tree that updated every time a new member of the family was added.
Speaking of which, there was Harry, who had shown up after Sirius adopted him last year. But if Regulus Black wasn't dead, why the hell did everyone think he was?
Hermione felt her fact contort into what Harry and Ron call her thinking face. There was only two person in this house around at the time that Regulus 'died', and one was the vile woman trapped within brushstrokes and the other was a vindictive elf who looked at her as if she were the scum of the Earth. Hermione resigned herself, she would not be able to get anything from them. She looked back down at the portrait of Regulus Black, her Mr Black, and wondered, what was a dead man doing back after all these years?
Was it You-Know-Who? Did her Mr Black return to serve his old master? Snape must of told them he was alive though, he was a spy after all. But Remus said he was dead. Did Snape not know? Did he keep it to himself? Why would he keep it to himself when Sirius was right there? Or maybe that's exactly why he didn't reveal that information. She knew the Order was having a meeting at that very moment, and she was positive that her Mr Black was Regulus Black. Perhaps she could ask Snape if he knew what happened to Regulus Black.
Or perhaps she should just keep her Mr Black to herself.
And so she did.
Hermione Granger thought about her Mr Black most nights. And most days for that matter. If any of the habitants of Grimmauld Place were curious about where Hermione was, they need not look very far, as she was often either nestled deep inside the library, or sitting in the dark green armchair inside Regulus Black's old room.
The first time she had stumbled upon the lavish bedroom, it had been rather welcomed. Hermione had been looking for anything, anything about her Mr Black. The room was dark, and covered with dust, the window letting in a single stream of light that shot across the room. The four poster bed was in the centre of the room, with the duvet slightly ruffled and one of the corners still flipped over, an eerie reminder of Regulus Black's last night in his bed. Hermione never touched the bed, nor the set of drawers on the far side. The dark green armchair sat, surprisingly dust free next to an old wooden writing desk, a dried up ink pot next to a old piece of parchment the only things that remained on the desk.
There wasn't any photos, or anything really that gave it any personality, only the fading and ratty Slytherin memorabilia that proved that it was ever lived in at all. At first, Hermione didn't believe that the room was that of her Mr Black, but a snoop into the desk drawers, revealed journal, an empty one unfortunately, but still, the 'Property of Regulus A. Black' was enough to convince her that this cold, numb room belonged to her Mr Black.
Hermione often found herself being drawn to the room of Regulus Black, with its unpeeling wallpaper, and ever present single string of sunlight. Some days she'd bring a book she'd found in the library and sit in the armchair, falling into a peaceful trance. Other days she'd sit at the old writing desk, which she dutifully cleaned, and do her summer homework. Crookshanks eventually figured out her pattern, and would patter in, and if she was at the desk, he would curl up on the armchair, and if she took her place on the armchair, he would settle on the still kempt side of the bed. She appreciated the company.
It was the twins that found her first, always snooping, looking for something to do. The two of them were hightailing away from their mother when they barged into the first door out of Molly Weasley's sight. Hermione had been sat in the armchair, a large tome in her lap, being handled with the most delicate of fingers. She was startled by the sudden presence of the two ginger miscreants, but couldn't hold back a snort at the sheer terror on their faces when they realised that said room was occupied.
"Hello boys."
Twin one, waved his arms around, shushing her as best he could, though he did manage to hit twin two in the face, in his efforts to make Hermione shut up. Twin two groaned and held his nose where his twin had manage to smack. It was that groan that made twin one spin around and make the same gestured at his brother, soon the three of them were in a complete silence, with twin one pressing his ear against the door. After a couple of minutes, the twin leaning against the door, looked back at the other twin and gave a short nod. A sigh of relief passed through the twins, and they then turned to Hermione who was watching with her finger in her tome, acting as a bookmarker.
"Boys."
"Hermione."
The three of them stared at each other, before Hermione's sharp gaze slowly chipped away at the twins resolve. Eventually, in unison, the two broke away from the unintentional three way staring contest. Snorting, Hermione opened her book, and waved the twins away, who were quick to scamper after being stared down by a girl two years their junior. But they had known Hermione Jean Granger since she was eleven, and knew just what she would do to them if they dare interrupt her reading.
They had made that mistake two weeks into her first year, a simple dungbomb in the library, but in a matter of minutes, the firstie descended upon them like a fury from the deep. She cursed them out, slashing her wand in angry movements, her hair sparking every couple of seconds. Hermione Granger aged 11, made them swear never to target her while she had a book in her hands. And considering the girl's bookworm status, they just agreed to never prank her again. The spitting threat to their genitalia was enough to earn their fear and admiration for the first year.
The second person to find her, was unfortunately, Sirius Black. Having followed her to get to his own room, he had frozen in his place when he noticed just what room Hermione had entered. It taken him a full two minutes to push open the door, and another two to fully comprehend the sight of his dead brother's old room, and his godson's best friend sitting at his desk. Hermione had turned around once she heard the sharp intake of breath from behind her.
Once she saw just who it was, she felt her own lungs squeeze emptily.
"Sirius..."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room, from her to the bed, to the chair, back to her, to the slytherin posters, to the window and its single string of sunlight, her again.
"You know who's room this is, don't you?"
Hermione felt herself stand, and take a step towards the older wizard. Hesitantly, she nodded, "Your- It's your brother's."
Regulus Black. Her Mr Black. Sirius' little brother. His living brother. Only Sirius didn't know that.
Sirius started to shake, the control over his trauma, that everyone had conveniently ignored, was crumbling. Hermione felt it before she saw it, the fear, the grief, the anger, Sirius' magic was leaking out of his pores, his eyes were absent, and his nails dug into his palms. She spotted the trestles on the four poster bed swaying, pushed by the waves of barely restrained magic pooling from the man of the house. Hermione stumbled back, her hand twitching towards her wand, that was lying innocently on the desk of Regulus Black.
"My brother." He whispered, "Reggie."
BOOM!
Hermione Granger clutched her wand against her chest, watching with bated breath as the former Professor Lupin held Sirius Black in his arms. The two men rocking back and forth as the werewolf whispered soft, comforting words into the crying man's ear. She didn't dare twitch from her place amongst the wreckage that was once a perfectly neat bedroom, nor did her eyes stray from Remus and Sirius. Lupin had burst in less than a minute after Sirius imploded, wand at the ready, before seeing the crushing sight of Sirius Black's grief.
Remus had immediately wrapped his arms around Sirius, trapping the flailing arms against his chest, Sirius writhed and cried, magic lashing out, attacking Remus. However Remus Lupin was a very strong wizard, one who knew all about how to withstand magic, and knew even more about how to withstand Sirius Blacks. Remus just squeezed his eyes shut as painful sobs shook through his best friend and into him, and blazing waves of power seeped into his skin.
Hermione swallowed, and dropped her arms. Words wanted to spill out, from weightless whispers of comfort to shouting to the foundations of Grimmauld Place that Regulus Black lives. But could she even swear it? Could she prove it? Could she bring herself to bring hope to Sirius Black only to be wrong? As she watched Remus Lupin cradle Sirius Black she knew.
She knew she could not hurt his Mr Black in the name of hers.
So Regulus Black's memory died on her lips.