The Real Truth

True," Sapientia admitted. Then she grew solemn, and stared at Hermione. "I have information that you will need. Mother left you a journal. If you go to the library, there are two wall sconces on either side of the doors. Turn the one on the left a quarter-turn to the right. A door will open. It leads to a small room which contains Mother's notes for you, and her journal."

"Is that everything?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. Sapientia bit her lip, much the same way Hermione did, and stared at her descendent for several long minutes.

"Yes, but it doesn't make much sense," Sapientia said uncertainly. Hermione tossed her hair.

"Tell me anyway," Hermione commanded. "I may understand what it means."

"Right, just before Mother died, she said to tell the Two Hermiones that…she said to trust in the dog, he was true to you always…in both lives. She said…she said to trust your magic. It knew the truth," Sapientia said uncomfortably.

"Wait, how could he be true to me in both lives?" Hermione asked with a small frown. Sapientia frowned as well.

"You know the dog?" Sapientia asked urgently. Hermione nodded.

"Of course," she said with a slight smile.

"That is what Mother said, I don't know what it means, that's your job," Sapientia said wryly. Hermione frowned.

"But…what about trusting my magic? I do already," Hermione muttered in confusion.

"Get her journal, and her notes. That will tell you what you need to know," Sapientia said firmly. Hermione nodded.

"Thank you," she said to her ancestor. Sapientia smiled.

HP/HG/HP

I am not certain when the Two Hermiones will come, the visions of that time are so bizarre, and confused. In some of them Hermione and the Dog are the same age…and in some he is much older than she is, and he does not recognize her. I wonder if it is some odd curse that is cast upon the both of them. In the visions where they are the same age, she is the one who does not believe what their magic is telling them, and it causes them both incredible pain. I wish I could change that for her. I see several possible futures for her. In the futures where she refuses to believe in her magic, he ends up repudiating her, and she removes herself from his life, and the family completely. She moves to France and raises their two children herself. I cry after those visions because she is always so sad, and so alone. He attempts to fill his life with other things, but nothing can fill the void that she leaves in his heart and in his life. In the other visions, he is much older than she, and he refuses to believe that such a thing is possible—and especially not with a person he considers a child. He becomes reckless with his safety, and he dies for his godson. Those visions make me cry, too, because he is so happy to die. He feels it redeems him, and saves him from defiling her. She is left alone to carry on, and that too is sad.

Hermione…when you read this, please believe…for both your sakes'.

Hermione frowned at the journal. She believed in her magic. What was Gloswinda trying to tell her? She flipped through the journal, frowning. She found entries about all sorts of things—many with neat notation in the corners from other family Seers, noting when the vision came to pass. All of the Hermione entries were note free. Hermione's hands shook as she read the entries. It was so odd to hear about her possible futures.

Hermione must never take off the pendant. Each time she does, she places it on the Dog to save him—and yet still she denies her magic! I have seen her take off the pendant countless times, and each time she dies it is more horrible than the last. In several, there is a Dark Lord who traps her as a direct result. Those always end badly. She either kills herself, or he tortures her and then kills her.

All right, then, Hermione decided. She was never taking off the pendant. Not even to save Sirius. That thought twisted something inside her, and she tried not to think about situations where she would need o save Sirius.

What does she mean, I need to trust my magic? And Sirius was drawn to you. You said you loved him. Your patronus was…is Padfoot.

Yes, I loved him. I don't think…I didn't think…I mean sometimes when he got drunk he would say things…snarky, bitchy things. If Remus was there he would rein Sirius in, and he always said "It's not her fault, Padfoot. You can't blame her for this." I thought he meant the fact that Sirius had to live at number 12. Or the fact that he'd suffered in Azkaban.

How old were you when he died?

Fifteen.

I'm sorry.

I got used to it. I never got over it, but I got used to it. Isn't that odd?

No. It isn't at all.

So he loved me. I wonder if somehow…he knew, or his soul knew?

It's possible, I suppose.

Hermione couldn't sleep after reading what Gloswinda Gryffindor had to say about her possible future, and Old Hermione's past. She ended up reading the book she'd been reading earlier—about natural bonds. The information was fascinating, and Hermione found herself engrossed in the book. What she called a spontaneous bond, this author insisted on calling 'natural bonds'. The author, Verity Selwyn, claimed that marriage bonding rituals were an artificial replacement for natural bonding. She likened them to wandless, nonverbal spells, or more accurately, to an expression of accidental magic brought on by incredibly strong emotions, usually love.

But that's impossible!

What's impossible?

Natural bonds are brought about by love.

Okay…why is that impossible?

Sirius doesn't love me.

Honey, I don't know if there's ever been a time that that boy hasn't loved you.

But he can't!

Why not?

I—I…but…

Hermione. Sirius loves you. He's going to marry you.

Marriage has nothing to do with love.

On what planet?

This one. In my world, among the purebloods, love isn't even considered. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy will grow to love one another. Right now, they have respect, companionship, and caring. This is what most pureblood girls hope and pray for—someone who will be kind to them, and treat them well.

That is beyond sad, that you're holding up the Malfoys as an ideal marriage. OH! Oh, you! You're doing it right now!

I'm doing what?

You're denying what the magic is telling you. It's telling you that he loves you, and you love him. If you deny him…it gets bad. You read the same visions that I did. Do you really want to live completely separated from everyone? I mean, I like France, and I'm not knocking Beauxbatons for your children, but it sounded like you were miserable.

He…loves…me?

Oh for Merlin's sake. I give up. Go live in France and be utterly alone and miserable. Just remember, you've got me in here and I'll be happy to remind you about how much you screwed up every single day for as long as you live. Hell, I may figure out how to do it after we're dead, too.

Hermione hurried upstairs as quickly and as silently as she could. There was no one awake at this hour, and she found her way to Sirius' room easily. Once she was inside his room, she warded it and silenced it with every spell she could think of. Sirius was sprawled in the bed, but his hand was flung out on 'her side' of the bed, and he was turned toward where she normally lay in the bed. She stripped to her skin and slid into bed. He knew she was there, even in his sleep, he murmured something and shifted closer, pulling her against him.

"Sirius?" She whispered, stroking the skin of his bare chest. He grumbled in his sleep, and his arms tightened around her. One hand stroked down, as it was wont to do, and when it reached her bum, his eyes flew open.

"Hermione?" He said faintly. She smiled at him.

"Yes?"

"Um, you're naked," he whispered carefully. She nodded.

"I know."

"Why are you naked?" he demanded in a fierce whisper. Hermione put her hands on his chest and closed her eyes. She focused on how much she loved Sirius, how much he meant to her, and how much she wanted him. What are you doing? Is that you? Hermione, stop that right now!"

"Why?" She asked curiously.

"It makes me want to take you right here, right now," he groaned, pressing against her so that she could feel what he meant.

"What's wrong with that?" Hermione asked patiently. He frowned at her.

"What do you mean?" He demanded.

"Do you love me?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said simply. She could see it in his eyes, now that she knew what to call it. It was that strange something that had always been there. She pulled his head to hers and pressed her lips against his mouth. Panic was beginning to set in. Hermione was warm, and willing, and very, very naked. Sirius wasn't sure if this was real or not. He pulled back and frowned at her. "Hermione?"

"I love you," she said firmly. She kissed him again, and he returned the kiss eagerly. She could feel her magic wrapping around him in little tendrils, and she could feel his doing the same thing. Those little tendrils were like delicate little caresses of magic. She could feel his magic touching her everywhere. She returned the favor, and he made a strangled noise.

"Wait," he managed to gasp. She pulled back and watched him for a moment. He looked at her carefully. "Why right now?"

"I realized that I loved you," she said quietly. "I mean, I have for a while, but I didn't realize that that's what it was."

"I see," he said slowly, frowning slightly.

"You're mad," she said in confusion. His arms tightened briefly.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not mad. I just…how long have you loved me?"

"For a very, very long time," she said softly. "I have loved you since the day I met you. I have never not loved you."

"But you just realized it," he said slowly.

"Yes," she said softly. He frowned slightly.

"I think tonight might not be the best time then," Sirius said slowly, and carefully as though he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

"You're turning me down?" Hermione asked in a small voice. The arms tightened again.

"No," he muttered roughly. "I just…I need time to process this. I can't believe I'm saying this to you."

"I can't believe it either," she muttered, frowning. He kissed her lightly.

"If I didn't care about you, I'd shag you until you couldn't walk. I'd take you on every available flat surface and up against the wall. You'd walk funny for a week," he stated matter-of-factly. Hermione's eyes were huge. He kissed her again. "I want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to feel special."

"But we have to go back to school tomorrow," she whispered. He shook his head.

"We'll figure out something," he murmured at her. "Now come here, kitten."

Even if he wasn't willing to shag her until she couldn't walk tonight, he seemed perfectly happy to snog her senseless, and let his hands roam where they'd never been before. Hermione felt little spirals of pleasure spinning through the both of them when his hands stroked her body. He gasped when he tweaked one of her nipples.

"How?" he whispered. Hermione smiled in the dark.

"The spontaneous bond," she whispered back. She felt surprise and pleasure.

"That doesn't normally happen," he said after a moment.

"No," she agreed. "Right now, you and I are very, very close, and our magic is meshing. That's why."

"Oh," he said in surprise, and there was a little tinge of awe to his thoughts. He stroked her body reverently, and she returned the favor, running her fingers over his back, down his ribs. They shivered at the variety of sensations they were both experiencing. It was a little daunting. His caresses grew softer, muted, relaxed, and she realized that he was reveling in the closeness, the intimacy of their current embrace. She could feel him start to grow sleepy again, and she could feel her own eyes start to droop. His arms slipped around her again, and he pulled her tightly against him. Her head was tucked under his chin and he kissed her forehead. "Good night, kitten. Until later."

"Good night," she murmured and then yawned.