Different Sirius

"Headmaster? There's something I need to talk to you about," Lily said uncertainly.

They had debated, and then flat out argued about the best possible course of action. Lily had been trying to learn occlumency from Hermione and from Severus, but it was slow going. It was much, much easier to learn if one was a small child—before one build natural barriers against the outside world. Lily had created walls to protect herself, but they were haphazard things that she had created unconsciously as the need arose. They were not conscious, carefully crafted walls with reinforcements and support such as Hermione or James or any pureblood with the brains for it had. Hermione felt guilty because she had had a momentary twinge of relief that her parents had been teaching occlumency to James and herself since they were three or four. However, they decided that it would be best if they could keep Hermione away from the headmaster's attention for now. Ultimately, Lily was their best choice. She was the most innocuous, the one most likely for Dumbledore to gloss over without trying to pry into her mind. Just in case he did, they were trying to prepare her.

War was all about contingencies, Hermione decided. They always planned what they should or ought to do when shit went down, never if. James was already trying to figure out what to do when her status as a Seer leaked out. He got that from her, she decided. She already had a plan, she just hadn't told anyone because—worst case scenario—they might not be alive to help her with it. When someone betrayed them, the fewer people that knew about her escape plan, the better. She tried to share everything else with her lieutenants: Lucius and Severus. Lily and James were fed the information they needed to have, but no more. She did that partially because she knew that James and Lily would not understand her need to plan for certain scenarios, but Lucius and Severus understood immediately.

"Of course, Miss Evans, how can I help you?" Dumbledore asked her kindly. Lily haltingly told him the tale that Hermione had made her memorize, and as far as she could tell, he believed her. She didn't even feel the strange press of mind to mind that came when Hermione or Severus tested her. "This is indeed grave news. I must send some letters. I'm sorry Miss Evans, if you could excuse me?"

"Of course, headmaster," Lily squeaked. She jumped up and fled his office gratefully.

Several days later, Hermione read the Daily Prophet with satisfaction. The Death Eaters had attempted to attack the Bones home, but found it completely deserted. She knew that the Order must have relocated them somewhere safe. She glanced toward the Hufflepuff table and saw Amelia Bones clutching the Daily Prophet, reading it avidly. Hermione saw Amelia Bones look up at the long table, toward Professor Dumbledore, and she saw him nod, once, at her and smile slightly. Amelia relaxed and began to eat her breakfast happily. Hermione shook her head slightly and sipped her pumpkin juice. At least the entire Bones family hadn't been slaughtered. That was important.

HP/HG/HP

She had experienced quite a few Hogsmeade weekends throughout her separate lives, but this one was unusual to say the least. Sirius walked next to her, but it was as though he was afraid to touch her. She realized after a moment that he didn't want to treat her like anyone else. He wanted her to realize that this was completely different. So he walked next to her. He followed her into Vortiger's Used Books, and she ended up having to drag him away from a stack of books, and toward the Three Broomsticks. She was laughing at him because he hadn't purchased anything at Zonko's or the Quidditch Supply Store, and had instead bought a book on the history of broomsticks. He scowled at her.

"I don't expect you to become a completely different man overnight, Sirius Black," she said with a low, throaty chuckle. "It is perfectly acceptable for you to buy dungbombs and use them."

"I have read in the past," he muttered crossly. "I enjoy reading."

"Hmm. Most likely scandalous muggle books about heroines with uncertain moral fiber," Hermione said with a knowing look in her eye.

"It was Catcher in the Rye," he said darkly. Hermione perked up.

"Oh, really? I can see you enjoying that," she said thoughtfully, her nose scrunched up. He blinked at her.

"I did. I mean, I didn't understand some of the muggle bits, but yeah, I enjoyed it. My mother didn't," he said flatly and seemed to close up slightly. Hermione took his arm impulsively.

"Well, it's not for everyone," she said airily and pulled him toward the Three Broomsticks. When they walked in, people glanced at them, and then looked away. It wasn't unusual to see Sirius and Hermione with one another, they often were because of James. The marauders were sitting at their own table, and Lily was sitting with a bunch of their mutual girlfriends. Hermione and Sirius frowned slightly.

"Now what?" He asked her. She thought for a moment.

"We either sit with our respective groups, or sit together. Are you ready for that?" Hermione asked him carefully. He frowned.

"What, do you think I'm ashamed of you or something?" He asked indignantly. She rolled her eyes.

"No, Sirius, that's not it at all, but if we sit at our own table, my brother is going to want to know why." She said calmly. He looked at her, and there was that uncertainty, that vulnerability there in his eyes again. She practically dragged him to a small table in a corner. "Fine, we sit together, and damn the consequences."

"Hermione?" James was standing in front of the table, looking between the two of them like he wasn't quite sure what was going on.

"Yes, Jamie?" Hermione asked him sweetly.

"Why are you and Sirius sitting here away from everyone else?" He was frowning, his brow scrunching with concentration.

"We thought it would be easier to talk this way," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Well, it makes look like you're on a date with him or something," James said with a slight frown. "Not that I don't love you, Padfoot, but you've sort of got a reputation."

"We are on a date," Hermione said brightly, smiling winningly at James who was still frowning as though he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"But," James began and Hermione held up her hand.

"I know you don't want to finish that thought because you'll never forgive yourself. Sirius has treated me with nothing but respect, and concern for my feelings. You will not say anything about what may or may not have happened in the past. It has no bearing on here and now. This is happening James Potter." Hermione spoke calmly and rationally. James tried to listen to her. He really did. He turned and frowned at Sirius.

"You should have said something to me," he said flatly. Sirius nodded.

"I know," he muttered.

"We're going to talk about this later," James promised darkly. Sirius nodded, completely unconcerned.

"I know," he said simply. Hermione beamed at her brother.

"Now, why don't you go buy Lily a hot chocolate? Ask Rosmerta to add a touch of mint, she likes that," Hermione said cheerfully. James stared at her for a moment and then went back to his table.

"He's not happy with me right now," Sirius said quietly, staring at his best friend and blood-brother.

"He'll forgive you eventually," Hermione said encouragingly. Sirius rolled his eyes at her.

"When?" He asked dryly. She shrugged.

"Oh, five years at the very most," she said bracingly and patted his hand. He stared at her. She grinned at him. "I was joking, Sirius. Breathe."

HP/HG/HP

The entire school noticed when Sirius walked into breakfast looking like he'd just had the crap beat out of him, which he had. They also noticed when white faced Hermione flew across the Great Hall and into his arms. Her hands fluttered near his face, and over his shoulders. No one could quite hear what they said, but the way Sirius' arm was wrapped around her waist, it was fairly obvious that they were a couple. She pulled him from the Great Hall to the annoyance of the entire student body, they'd wanted to see what would happen next.

Hermione dragged Sirius to Madame Pomfrey despite his many and varied protests that he was just fine. Madame Pomfrey had clucked over him and healed all his injuries. Hermione took him to a desolate corridor and sank down to the floor, looking at him.

"So you 'talked.' Are you two okay, now?" She asked uncertainly, staring at the rapidly fading bruises.

"Yeah, but if I hurt you at all, I'm a dead man," he said dryly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you hurt me, he'll be lucky to find enough of you to kill," she said dryly. He gave a rusty chuckle and then winced. She frowned darkly. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," he admitted. She ran down to the kitchen and hurried back with a small basket of breakfast food. Sirius inhaled almost the whole basket while she nibbled a muffin and watched him with fascination.

"Where does it all go?" she asked curiously. He looked up at her, finished chewing and swallowed. She grinned at him. Point one, chewing and swallowing before speaking.

"Dunno," he said after a moment. His robes were hanging open from his visit to Madame Pomfrey, and he lifted his shirt, exposing a hard, muscled stomach. "It doesn't go to my waist, that's for sure."

"Um, yeah," Hermione said softly, staring at the well-defined muscles of his stomach.

"Hermione, what if I do hurt you?" He asked softly. She looked up at him, and he looked like a worried puppy.

"What if I hurt you?" she whispered. He frowned.

"You wouldn't," he said flatly.

"I might," she said calmly. "Without ever meaning to, I might."

He snorted at the idea and dug into the basket, looking for more food. She smiled sadly at him, and hoped that she never had occasion to hurt this boy who seemed to think so highly of her.

I knew he had all sorts of issues, but I guess I never realized how fragile his heart was.

By the time you knew him, he'd been through hell for thirteen years. He was more injured animal than man at that point. He sure as hell wasn't trying to find true love. His whole life revolved around Harry and his promises to James and Lily.

You know, I'm starting to feel really, really bad about how I treated him in the beginning.

You were thirteen. Cut yourself some slack.

I was the brightest witch of my age. I was never a child, none of us were. Harry was fragile like that—I should have recognized it in Sirius.

That's what happens when you grow up in a house with no love, and no affection. You helped heal Harry of all of that, you and the Weasleys and Sirius. I'll do the best that I can.

I hope it's enough.

Me too.