October 4, 1999

She had been fighting in the war against Voldemort since she was twelve years old.

The first time she experienced someone attempting to murder her, she was thirteen. Even if it had been through a bloody overgrown snake.

She had been fifteen when she finally had to come to terms with what being friends with the Harry Potter truly meant as she watched him bring back the dead body of Cedric Diggory after Voldemort had kidnapped them and killed him.

Her second brush with death came just over a year later—she was sixteen. They had broken into the ministry, the Department of Mysteries specifically, under the guidance of Harry and the vision he'd had of Sirius Black. Harry swore up and down that Voldemort had his godfather there, torturing him.

It had been obvious to her that it was a trap but she did anything and everything for Harry at that time, so she went. None of them saw Dolohov’s curse coming so no one could have warned her but before she knew it, she was on the floor unable to breathe, feeling like she was being burned from the inside out.

After that day, there were countless meetings with death, some more traumatic than others and one in particular that set off a chain reaction that led her to where she was now. Standing in the shadows of the busy Ministry atrium, disillusioned as she waited for the rush of everyone arriving for work to die down.

It had been over a year since the Final Battle.

Over a year since she had seen anyone from the Wizarding World except for one.

Over a year since Hermione Jean Granger last spoke.

As the crowd thinned out, she stepped out of the shadows and quickly but quietly made her way across the floor to the lone, black door that she knew led down to the area of the Ministry that she needed. It had taken months, almost the full year of her time if she were being honest, to finally get everything prepared. Now that she had everything she needed, she would follow through and do what was right.

Taking a deep breath, she gave one more cautious look around to find herself utterly alone as she twisted the doorknob, scoffing slightly as she felt the wards bend and open for her, appalled that the door allowed her in so easily.

The lack of security in this place is still appalling, I see, she thought as she found her way through the maze of corridors that made up the Department of Mysteries. It had been a few years since they had made this journey but she was sure she would be able to find her way where she needed to go.

A slam of a door made her jump and the sound of Draco’s voice from one of his more recent visits came to mind.

Just remember the numbers 4-4-8, Granger. It helps me when I still have panic attacks. Maybe it could be of help to you too. Inhale for four seconds. Hold for four. Exhale for eight.

When Draco Malfoy had written to her only a month after she had left everything behind, he had apologized for everything he had ever done. It had been a very thick letter. He had told her he understood, after everything she had been through, her need to disappear from the Wizarding World but he hoped she would still allow him to contact her.

It had been an easy decision.

Draco’s apology was sincere, she knew that for certain and most importantly, he expected nothing from her. Wanted nothing from her other than someone to talk to and she could give him that.

She imagined it was lonely in that big manor all by himself.

She did as he had told her to and inhaled, pressing her back to the cool wall as she held it in and exhaled. Her eyes fluttered open and when she saw nothing and heard no one, she shook her head, softly smiling to herself at the memory of who she now considered her best friend.

She continued down the dark corridor, running her fingertips along black bricks lining the walls, recalling the memories she had buried deep within her mind to guide her in the right direction. It wasn't long before she paused outside a familiar door and pushed it open, grimacing at the sight of a few Unspeakables milling about but her eyes widening at the sight of the imposing archway.

The last time she had been there, the marble arch had stood empty. Before, she had been confused why the Ministry had such a fixture hidden so deep with its bowels, but now it was there, mesmerizing her with its changes. The only way she would have been able to describe it, had anyone been around to ask, was a thin, wispy fog that flowed from between the pillars of marble.

It looked soft in a way, inviting—comforting.

As she took steps forward, she recalled the way Harry and Luna had heard whispers—disembodied voices that called to them from seemingly nowhere. She hadn't been able to hear them, had chalked it up to the two of them hearing something that truly wasn't there.

Ever since the day the battle there took place, Hermione had pushed down the overwhelming sense of loss she’d felt. She told herself she hadn’t lost anyone or anything of importance to her. Harry had, though. So quietly, she grieved the death of a man she had barely known, unable to express the sorrow that had burrowed its way into her soul only to be suppressed by more pressing matters as the war got worse. She had kept her distance from the loss as it ate away at her and watched as Harry slowly came to terms with it.

It wasn’t until she learned why they had been able to hear the whispers in the first place that her theory began.

She made her way over and once no one was in the vicinity of the arch, she began to erect the wards she needed. She needed time and space to do what needed to be done. Wordlessly, she flourished her wand and watched as the webbing of her wards began to weave themselves around her and the arch, leaving enough room for her to work.

As soon as she was encased in the wards, she dropped her disillusionment and went to work. She ignored the frantic whispers of the people noticing her and the shouts as they realized no one was capable of getting to her. Though, she wasn’t worried. By the time they were able to break through her webbing, she would be done and if she were lucky, she would have succeeded.

Merlin, did she hope she succeeded. She wouldn’t be allowed the privilege of another chance.

Hermione gripped her wand tighter and held it up before making her way to the left side of the arch. With a silent Diffindo, she sliced into her hand and drew blood, letting it pool in her palm before dipping her finger in the warm, crimson liquid. Focusing on her goal, she meticulously drew the Eihwaz and Isa runes into the stone before moving over to the right side and once again, coating her finger tip in blood and this time, drawing the Perthro and Berkana runes.

The veil pulsed and the whispers grew louder as she took a step back, her attention never straying from the task at hand. The next part was the only one that worried her. Without the ability to speak, she couldn’t say the spell needed and could only hope that chanting it in her head would work.

As she held up her wand and pointed it at her heart, she closed her eyes and began to repeat the phrase in her mind. Ligabis animam meam ad eum qui fecit me.

Ligabis animam meam ad eum qui fecit me.

Ligabis animam meam ad eum qui fecit me.

She opened her eyes and watched in awe as the people around her stopped talking and stared as the fog in the middle of the arch pulsed and fluttered. Then, with a shiver, it disappeared and in its place was a network of stars. Each glittering as if they were in the night sky and not in the bright room of Death. She dropped her wand hand as her mouth ran dry.

Four. Four. Eight. Four. Four. Eight, she thought to herself as she breathed, staving away her brewing panic before, finally, something happened.

Hermione Granger watched in shock as Sirius Black slowly walked out of the veil no older or different than he was the day he fell in before he collapsed on the floor.

Her wards dropped and she disillusioned herself once more as she watched the people rush to his side, some of them people she recognized as Healers. She smiled sadly from her hidden place at the back of the room as she knew those not tending to Sirius were going to be looking for her.

She turned to leave the room, desperate to go back to her little cottage of seclusion, knowing Harry would show up for him the moment he got word of his godfather being back. Sirius would be able to have the life he had had stripped from him all those years ago, the second he was thrown in Azkaban and again when Bellatrix had tried to kill him. He was going to be able to have the life he deserved.

As she reached a point outside where she could apparate, she paused and let a soft smile reach her face as Aurors ran into the building.

Her theory had been correct.

She had been right.

And it was the most heartbreaking thing she had ever had to realize.

He’d been going back and forth with the Healers for an hour, ever since he woke up, and he was getting increasingly frustrated. He merely wanted to see his godson and make sure he was alright but they wouldn’t even tell him what was going on. He laid back in his uncomfortable bed, a glare on his face as his grey eyes tracked the woman writing in the chart as she walked away from him to the door.

“Are you seriously not going to tell me anything?” he asked, irritated at the silence in the room.

She turned to him with her frizzy hair and a forced smile. “We are only waiting on one person, Mr. Black. Until then, you must be patient.”

“I don’t want to be bloody patient. I want to know what the fuck is going on!” he shouted as he leaned forward.

“I can see that you’re still as patient as ever, Padfoot.” A familiar voice called from the door and the woman moved, allowing Sirius a view of the man in the doorway.

His hair was as unruly as ever, his green eyes bright behind his circular framed glasses—even if they were a bit wide with shock—and his smile was hesitant but familiar.

Harry.

“Harry?” he asked, swallowing, not daring to blink in case it put him back in that awful place he’d been pulled from.

It was filled with nothing and everything. It had no scent and yet overwhelmed him with what he could only describe as cherries and vanilla. It felt like a fate worse than death but like he was waiting at the threshold of home, desperately anxious to finally take a step across.

Then he had been pulled from it and there was now a sense of longing he believed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he shouldn’t feel for a place so terrible but it was there nonetheless.

He shook his head, looking his godson up and down. He was older than when he’d last seen him. Dressed in what could have only been Auror training gear and a pit opened up in his stomach.

How long had he been gone? He thought before he cleared his throat.

“Is that really you?”

Harry nodded as he took a step into the room, the young Healer excusing herself. As the door softly clicked shut, Harry let out a breath and shook his head, almost in disbelief. “It’s me.”

“How long have I been…gone?” Sirius asked, never taking his eyes off the boy he had left behind when he was only fifteen.

“Three years.”

Three years…

He blinked and shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts as they raced around in his head before he looked back up at Harry. “And…the war?”

Harry grinned and it reminded him so much of James that he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. “Ended a little over a year ago. We won.” He shrugged with a smirk. “Obviously.”

Sirius opened his mouth to say something else but the door opened and an older Healer walked in carrying his chart before he looked up with a smile. “Hello. My name is Healer Wood. Well, Mr. Black, you sure are an enigma.”

He straightened and looked over at the man. “What happened to me?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, by accounts given by the Unspeakables down in the Death Room, they all watched as…well, as Hermione walked in and erected wards. Wards they couldn’t get through.” He pushed his glasses up as he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Then, she did what they say looked like blood magic and before they knew it, you were tumbling out of the Veil.”

“Well, surely they can just ask her what she did?” Sirius provided, noticing the way Harry stiffened and the Healer pursed his lips. He looked between them and furrowed his brow, leaning back with a sigh. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

Harry nodded before he cleared his throat. “Hermione went missing the day of the Final Battle, Sirius. Until today, we didn’t even know she was still alive.”

He stared at his godson in shock. “How could she just go missing? Is no one looking for her?”

“I’ve been looking. The Ministry looked for a while too but eventually, there came a time where they told us we needed to accept the possibility that she’d died in the battle.” Harry sat down in the chair next to the bed and slumped. “The only reason we know that isn’t the case is because there were multiple people that saw her after the fighting was long over.”

Sirius didn’t understand how someone so close to Harry could have just disappeared like that. His mind was racing with a million unanswered questions when the Healer stood and coughed lightly.

“All your diagnostic charms came back clear, Mr. Black. Other than you having not aged physically or magically since you went into the veil. Well, in plain terms, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfectly healthy.” He looked down at the chart in his hand.

“How can I just be perfectly healthy? I died…didn’t I?” He looked at Harry and watched as something akin to grief passed over his godson’s face as he nodded slowly.

Healer Wood sat back and pursed his lips. “I’m afraid, unfortunately, without the information on what Miss Granger did to pull you out, we won’t know anything more.” He turned to Harry and gave him a smile. “You’re free to take him. He doesn’t need to stay.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“I’m a bloody grown man. I don’t need you releasing me to my godson.” Harry and Healer Wood shared a nervous glance and Sirius’ irritation only grew. “What?” He snapped.

Harry startled slightly and cleared his throat, refusing to meet his eyes. “Until we can procure your pardon paperwork, Sirius, you’re sort of my responsibility.”

“Why? Don’t tell me they still believe I killed them…”

Harry swallowed. “Well…”

In the end, it took Harry very little effort to get him to leave the hospital and go back with him to Grimmauld Place—as incensed as Sirius was to do it. He hated his ancestral home with a burning passion and had hoped, once the war was over and he was free, that he would be able to burn it to the ground and move somewhere less hectic and more peaceful.

He’d always pictured a secluded cottage in the forest, away from all the fucking noise.

He walked down the hall he’d been so familiar with at one point in his life but as he looked at the light colored walls, he found he truly recognized nothing. The once black walls were no longer radiating magic left by the depravity of centuries of the Black family.

As he rounded the stairs, he stopped short. Where the portrait of his mother once hung, loud and insulting on the landing before the second floor, the wall was bare. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the expanse of wall he’d never seen before, it having been covered by one portrait or another all his life, and his ears left bereft of Walburga's banshee screams of terror.

“How in Merlin’s name did you ever get that blasted wench down?” He asked, in complete awe of the feat.

Harry leaned against the wall and chuckled.

“Actually, Malfoy was the one who was able to do it. Something about the family blood.” He shrugged. “I didn’t ask questions, just bought him a bottle of Ogden’s finest once she was gone.”

His brows rose halfway up his forehead. “Malfoy? Lucius?”

Harry laughed loudly and shook his head. “Fuck no. Lucius is sitting in Azkaban where he belongs. I meant Draco.”

“I hadn’t realized you two spoke.” He furrowed his brows. “I would have assumed he would follow in his father’s footsteps and taken the mark.”

“Oh, he did. That doesn’t mean it was ever his choice to do so though. We’re not friends but we have an understanding. We don’t…hate each other like we once did.”

Sirius couldn’t help but think of Regulus at that moment. About how both wizards were just boys with no choice when they had been forced to make such a decision. He shook his head, now was not the time to get into thoughts about the choices people did or didn’t have during either war. It was over and done.

“I’ll have to thank him myself. Can you believe she was worse in person?” He asked as he started up the stairs, missing the look of sheer terror on his godson’s face.

He would have continued up the stairs, up the many floors of the home, but he found himself pulled to a room on the second floor. As he pushed open the door, the walls were painted a light purple—a color so soft it appeared almost white unless he focused. It smelled faintly of cherries and vanilla, a familiar scent that had him realizing just how tired he truly was.

Stepping out of his shoes, he sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hands along the plush, white duvet as he stared down at the pattern woven into the fabric. It was stitched in the same color as to appear subtle and he found himself tracing the delicate lines of the design, not even noticing the footsteps down the hall until someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

He snapped his head up to see Harry leaning again, this time on the door frame with a look of profound sadness in his eyes. Sadness he wasn’t sure belonged in the eyes of a man so young but had lived there as long as Sirius had known him.

“This is Hermione’s room,” he stated as he looked down at his feet.

Sirius moved to stand. “Apologies. I just went to the first one that looked comfortable.”

Harry shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it.” He huffed out a mirthless laugh and looked around. “She’s never actually slept in it. Well, she used to when we stayed here during the war but not since…”

“She left,” Sirius supplied as he sat back down.

His godson nodded, neither of them saying more until they heard the Floo go off. He looked over his shoulder and down the hall to the stairs and sighed. “Harry! Love, I’m here!”

Sirius arched his brow with a knowing smirk. “Love?”

His cheeks went red and he looked away, smiling softly. “That’s George. He comes over a lot. Ginny and Ron both live here as well.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You go. If it’s alright with you, I think I’m going to sleep for a while. I’m actually knackered.”

As Harry left, closing the door behind him, Sirius laid down on top of the duvet and stared up at the ceiling, now aware it’s a view his savior had seen over many nights during a time when nothing was certain. He swallowed and traced the texture of the ceiling, following the grooves in the paint as if they were lines in a constellation, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind if Hermione had mapped them just the same.

Catching himself, he scoffed and turned over, facing the wall but finding himself doing the same thing there, only this time as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder how a scent he had come to find such comfort in—a scent he knew as well as the back of his hand—could be so strong in a home that had brought him nothing but pain, in a room that had never belonged to him.

He woke to the scent of roast chicken and potatoes and in his sleep-addled state he rubbed his eyes before looking around the room. It was much darker now, the sun not shining through the window onto the walls anymore, bereft of the golden light of the afternoon. He pushed himself up into a seated position as he heard the sounds of dishes clanking and someone’s muffled laughter.

It warmed a part of him, some part that he’d long suppressed and buried under the mounds of his past and the piles of trauma that wrecked his mind daily, to hear such a noise in the home he was currently in. Its walls had surely never heard enough of it when he was younger.

He stood, oddly surprised when his joints didn’t pop and crack at the strain and slipped on his shoes once more before slowly opening the door, allowing the soft, warm light from the candles lighting the hall to breach the darkness of the room and he listened. The murmur of conversation flitted up the stairs to his ears and he smiled at the prospect of Harry having such company in his life. Merlin knew he deserved it.

Making his way down the hall and subsequently the stairs, he paused on the landing once more to stare in awe of the blank wall. It was truly a marvel that Draco had been able to get the damned thing off and he wondered, curiously, what the young wizard had done that he hadn’t thought of in his attempts to do the very same.

“It’s a much more pleasant experience now, walking into this home without being accosted for our status. No matter who you may be.” A distantly familiar voice called to him from further down and he slowly turned, locking eyes with the one man left that he could call above all else, a brother.

“Remus?” He choked out, staring at the wizard as he smiled up at him.

The werewolf shrugged as he looked away, chuckling. “I would ask who else but with my wife being who she is, it’s a valid question.”

Sirius sucked in a breath. “Wife? You got married?”

Remus snapped his head up at him. “Shit. I forgot you hadn’t known. Yes. I got married toward the end of the war…to Dora.”

Sirius stared at his best friend for a long minute and then for the first time since he’d been pulled out of the veil, he felt true unadulterated laughter bubble up in his throat as he threw his head back. “Dora? My cousin Nymphadora?”

“What have I told you?” A strong, feminine voice came from down the hall and he caught sight of his cousin’s red hair, a scowl on her face.

He nodded as he went down the few steps left to his friend and held out his hand. “Yes, yes. Good on you, Moony. I always knew you’d figure it out eventually.” He turned to Tonks and went in for the hug, kissing her cheek. “Good for you, baby cousin.”

Her hair slowly faded back to its natural pink and she smiled. “I can’t believe you're really back.”

“Neither can I.” He smiled as Remus grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a gripping hug, patting his back.

“May want to catch up in the dining room. Foods gonna get cold,” Harry called from the other room and they all chuckled, moving along until Sirius found himself sitting at a table, filled with food, surrounded by people he had thought he would never see again at one point.

Harry sat between Ron and George with Ginny on the far end as Remus sat next to him with Tonks on the other side of Sirius. Conversation flowed as they bounced from topic to topic, catching Sirius up on everything he had missed in the past three years. Noticeably skipping most of the details of the war but he wouldn't begrudge them that. It had only ended a year ago and he could see the loss and the trauma of what they’d all been forced to go through had really shaken them.

He learned Harry had started dating George almost as soon as Riddle had fallen, years of tension and lingering glances culminating into the Weasley twin marching up to him, in front of everyone left standing at the Final Battle, and kissing him. It hadn’t been a shock to anyone apparently that they had been together ever since.

They’d all returned for their final year at Hogwarts to make up for the year they’d all lost, either by not being there or from the lack of actual teaching that had gone on during that last year. He was shocked to learn of the depth of Severus’ loyalty to the Order and silently—privately—chastised himself for the way he’d treated him up until the point that Sirius had died.

Ginny had been scouted by the Holyhead Harpies during her final year and was now in training to join their first string of Chasers. He could see the pride in everyone’s faces as she spoke of it, her love of the sport pouring out with every word she spoke.

Ron and Harry had joined the Aurors almost immediately after graduation, partly because it was something they wanted to do and partly because they knew it was their easiest way to find Hermione.

“So, none of you have seen her since the Final Battle? Really?” Sirius asked, still perplexed entirely by that.

Remus sighed and leaned back in his chair. “She never even showed up for her final year, Pads. Even some of the eighth year Slytherins showed up but not Hermione. That was when it really started to worry everyone.”

“You say people saw her alive though, after the battle?” He asked, looking at Harry.

It was Ronald that spoke though. “I did. She was walking along the edge of the grounds, by the lake. She was alone and because of everything that happened, the wards were gone. I had watched her look over her shoulder and then she apparated away. No one saw her after that.”

“We had assumed that she’d just gone to get her parents,” Ginny spoke up, pushing her peas around with her fork before she set it down gently on the edge of her plate.

Sirius looked around the table, confused. “Her parents?”

George nodded, setting his napkin on the table with a sigh. “She obliviated them before the three of them went on the horcrux hunt. She’d done it to keep them safe.”

“We assumed she’d gone to Australia to find them, bring them back but then…” He trailed off, looking around at the others.

“Then we learned from Kingsley that they’d already been found, toward the end by Death Eaters. They were dead,” Ron said and Sirius felt his face go pale.

What hadn’t this witch been through?

“We didn’t know if she was truly alive or anything for the past year. We feared the worst—that maybe she’d been injured and her apparating had been the worst decision. Maybe she’d been too stubborn to ask for help.” Harry sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Until we got the call today that she had just walked into the Department of Mysteries.”

“But by the time we got there, she’d already vanished. It was just you being helped and she was gone.” Ron leaned back, taking a sip of his drink and setting the glass on the table.

“We don’t know what’s keeping her away from us but we just…we miss her.”

“So, how did the heist go, princess?” Draco asked Hermione as he sat down on her sofa, allowing Crookshanks to take up residency in his lap.

Hermione chewed on her lip as she watched them over her book before she laid it down in her lap.

It went well…I think. She signed as he watched her hand movements. She paused before admitting, I didn’t actually stay long enough to see him get taken to the hospital.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “You bailed? Mi, I thought we went over this.”

I didn’t want to be caught. I, she paused before shrugging. I can’t explain everything to them yet.

“You explained everything to me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. You were there for most of it, Draco. It was easy to open up to you. It won’t be the case for the rest of them.

Draco held his hands up in surrender and chuckled softly. “Alright, alright. Are you at least going to tell me why you felt the need to do it?”

No, but only because she wasn’t quite sure of it herself yet.

She narrowed her eyes, staring at her best friend for a moment before she arched her brow and signed, Are you ever going to tell me who it is that you sneak off to see all the time?

His cheeks flushed and she couldn’t help but smirk.

“Well played, princess.” She gave him a triumphant smile before he rolled his eyes playfully and stood. “I need to get going but you’re sure you’re alright here alone tonight? I don’t want to leave you if you're not feeling safe.”

Go. Have fun. Do everything I wouldn’t do. She smiled up at him as he leaned down and placed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be by on Sunday, yeah?” He straightened up and made his way to her Floo. The Floo that only had two connections. “I’ll bring some of Mipsy’s pumpkin scones.”

It’s not the season for pumpkin, Draco.

He snorted, shaking his head with a smirk. “For you, Mipsy will make it pumpkin season.”

With that, he turned and threw his powder in, calling out the manor and stepping in, leaving her alone in her cottage with just Crookshanks to fill the loneliness she felt when he left. She laid back on her sofa and stared out the window at the moon high in the sky, wondering if—hoping—that Sirius was back home in Grimmauld that night.

Hoping that everything she had done for him turned out to be worth it.

As she looked down at her hand and the shimmering gold band that now wrapped itself around her wrist, etched into her pale skin, she closed her eyes and hoped again that he would never notice the matching mark on himself.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, at that same moment, Sirius was back in the bedroom with the purple walls and the white duvet, sitting up in bed as he stared out at the moon high in the sky. It had been an emotionally and mentally exhausting day after everything that had happened and he was bone tired but there was something gnawing away at the far corners of his mind.

Sirius didn’t think anyone was looking nearly hard enough to find Hermione and now that he knew she was alive, he was determined to find her.

It would have been a decision that was easy for him to make but as he settled into bed that night and dimmed the lights, he caught sight of his wrist and stared at it in awe, his fingertips tracing the shimmering golden band that wrapped itself around his arm. Suddenly, the event of that particular witch being the one to pull him out of the Veil made sense.

If he hadn’t already been determined to find her, this would have solidified it. He needed to find her.

Sirius smirked up at the ceiling. She was his, after all.