Doors of Perception

Chapter One

'Home is where one starts from.'

(T.S. Eliot)

Harry got to the door before Sirius. "Ron! I'm so glad you could come." He reached out and hugged his best friend. "Hermione." Harry turned to the girl. "Hey... can you believe we only have two weeks left and then we are going back to Hogwarts? Where has this summer gone?"

"Harry, Harry." Sirius laughed, coming up behind his godson. "Calm down and let them come in. Anyone would think that you were bored of my company."

Harry flushed. "Sirius. You know I'm not bored of your company. It's just been weeks since I saw my friends."

Sirius laughed again, his hand resting firmly on Harry's shoulder. "I was teasing you, Harry. I know you missed them." He turned to the two still hovering in the doorway. "Come on in. Welcome to my little house. I'm glad you found it ok. I'm sorry about insisting on Muggle transport, but it was Dumbledore's idea. Nobody else knows where I am, you see. And we obviously didn't want to draw attention to this hideaway."

He watched Hermione and Ron put their cases down by the door and come in, surveying their surroundings as they did so. "But it's so homely..." Ron began. "When you said you were in hiding I thought... And living like a Muggle..."

This time it was Hermione who laughed. "Living like a Muggle isn't so very difficult, Ron. After all, I have been doing it all my life."

Ron looked scandalised. "Yeah, but you were born into a family who live like that. You didn't choose it."

"Neither did Sirius," said Harry softly.

Sirius tried to break the uncomfortable silence as Harry's words sunk in. "You were right when you said it was homely, Ron. It still needs a bit of work, but I am very happy with it."

Harry smiled. "It's a good home," he confirmed. "Why don't you come through here and see the rest of it?"

Plas Isaf was an old farmhouse built of heavy stone. On one side an extension had been built, taller and grander than the old part, but with the same slate roof and whitewashed exterior walls. The house sat on the top of a slope of grass that stretched down to the rough cliffs of the bay. Today the water was grey, to match the cloudy sky, but in the sunshine, on rare occasions, Harry had seen it sparkling blue. The main sitting room was in the newer part of the house, and had huge windows all along the west side, facing the water and the faint salty smell of the sea drifted in through the open glass doors. This was where Harry and Sirius took their guests.

"Sit down, would you like a drink?" Sirius asked, going back up the step into the kitchen. Shit I sound old! he thought.

Hermione followed him across the room, "Let me help," she offered.

"No, no. You've been travelling all day. Go sit down." As she went back down into the main room and Sirius turned away he felt like smacking his head into the cupboard. He felt so awkward and uncomfortable around Harry's friends, painfully aware that he was the parent figure while he really didn't feel like one. When it was just him and Harry in the house they got along almost as friends, for the most part Sirius felt like a much elder brother, and Harry seemed perfectly satisfied with that relationship. But every so often something would remind him that Sirius was old enough to be his father, had grown up with his father, and then the two of them would be awkwardly distant for a while. Something like the arrival of his friends. Sirius felt out of place, and Harry felt awkward knowing that Sirius felt uncomfortable, and this unease transmitted itself to the guests.

It's only Ron and Hermione, Sirius told himself as he went back into the sitting room with the glasses, Ron and Hermione. Normal Ron and Hermione - why should their presence change anything?

But it did. Ron and Harry were sprawled on the sofa and Hermione was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, the three were laughing animatedly.

"...For our last year of school!" Ron was exclaiming. But on seeing Sirius something changed minutely in Hermione's face and the boys' mirth died away. It pained Sirius to cause this reaction. He had thought that when Harry and his friends learned the truth, when he found somewhere to live anonymously, that he would have seen the last of that suspicion. Yet he still feared that the two didn't trust him. Stop being paranoid, the rational part of his brain told him, of course they trust you, and their parents do, or they wouldn't be allowed to come and stay.

But did they simply trust Dumbledore's word rather than the word of this ex-convict?

He smiled openly at Ron and Hermione and made some awkward jest about leaving the young people to themselves before taking his drink out through the glass doors to the patio beyond. He sat in one of the plastic chairs and stared out at the sea, able to hear but not make out the words of the conversation going on inside. The sky was nearly white and the water a pale grey. A pair of grey and white gulls wheeled and called above the cliffs on one side of the bay and a little fishing boat trawled around the other side of the bay headed up towards the town. It was calm and serene, a chilly Welsh summer evening, but not so cold that he needed more than a sweater to keep himself warm. He took another sip from his glass and then rested it on the little table. It had been a long time since he had felt at home, but the past five months had began to redress this omission. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear James and Remus chasing the infant Robin around the lawn, Lily and Vivian shrieking at them to be careful, Lily's hand resting on her swollen stomach, Peter stuttering away inanely but succeeding in making them all laugh. Happy life: how it had been, and how it no longer was.

Maybe there was a chance to recover some of that happiness, here in his little Welsh refuge with Harry and his friends. Now that he had allowed himself to remember, Sirius couldn't get the memories to fade, remembering Lily and Vivian and Ana dancing in James and Lily's big house, remembering Remus holding Harry as a baby, the delight on his friend's face at the tiny green eyes that crinkled in an expression akin to laughter, remembering Peter...

"Sirius?" a voice broke through his thoughts, luckily preventing them from moving beyond the good times. Sirius opened his eyes and looked up at Hermione.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said. He made a motion with one hand dismissing it, trying to avoid his face showing where his thoughts had been, trying not to let her see the disappointment on his face that it was Hermione standing before him, not James or Remus or Lily or Vivian.

"Harry was just wondering if you would come in and have something to eat?"

Sirius smiled at her, it wasn't her fault that she wasn't any one of his old friends. "What you mean is: Harry wants to know if I will come in and cook him something to eat."

"Umm.. Yeah..." she laughed sheepishly. "Although if you can show me where things are I will make something."

"It's not problem. Don't let them make you cook for them just because you're the girl."

She laughed too, her face lighting up, "Can you imagine me ever doing that? I only offered because I know that I can make something more edible than either of them. Ron, growing up with Molly's cooking, has never learned himself and Harry..."

"Is a disaster," Sirius finished for her. "Believe me, I know!"

He slid the door open and held it for her. She ducked under his arm with a word of thanks and went straight into the kitchen. Harry had the refrigerator open and smiled shamefacedly when Sirius saw him. He closed the door rapidly, almost trapping Ron's fingers as the other boy curiously examined the electrical appliance.

"I..." Harry began.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "How about spaghetti bolognaise?" he asked. Harry flushed, "Thanks. You make a great dad."

Sirius was momentarily thrown off balance by his godson's words. He and Harry never discussed things like that, things that might lead to a discussion of something painful, and certainly never mentioned them in front of other people. But Harry's words, while drawing at his well of painful sadness, also furnished Sirius with a warm, contented feeling that started somewhere in the region of his stomach and spread outwards.

"Now, go on," he said to the three of them. "Get out of here and let me cook."

* * *

Harry helped Ron and Hermione bring their stuff upstairs. As well as his room in the old part of the house and Sirius's master bedroom, there were two spare rooms, one with a single bed and one with twins. The consensus, without discussion, was to let Hermione have the bigger room because Sirius had furnished it with his two bookcases. Unsurprisingly she went straight over after dumping her suitcase on the bed nearer the window. "Oh look," she exclaimed to the boys. "Sirius has some real classics..."

"Yeah well, he had a lot of time with little to do in the last few years," Harry said awkwardly. "Dumbledore had his money transferred to a Muggle account since Sirius is still on the run in the Wizarding world." He realised that Hermione wasn't listening to a word that he was saying so he went down the hall to where Ron was hauling his trunk into the other room.

"You're right across the hall from me," Harry told Ron. "And the bathroom is right there, between your room and Hermione's."

Ron nodded, his hands in his pockets, looking around the room. "It's nice," he said. "I like the view." The pair of windows on the back wall looked out towards the water while the third looked up along the road towards the village of Tal Y Bont. "Hell of a thick wall," he commented to Harry and they passed back out into the hallway.

"The wall between the hall and your room is the exterior wall of the old house. Obviously your room is in the new part and I guess that the old wall was built solidly to keep out the cold. You should see the windows in my room - they're set so deeply that the sill makes a seat."

They had just gone across to Harry's room and were sitting on the seat cut into the deep wall, looking up into the mountains when Sirius called the three of them down to supper.

* * *

The kitchen was warm from the Aga stove in which Sirius was warming a loaf of bread he had bought that morning in the village bakery. The tomatoey smell of the bolognaise sauce filled the air and Hermione was already sitting at the golden wood table in centre of the room. Even with four of them around the table there was plenty of room and the fact that there was no wall, just a step down into the sitting room, meant that they could all see right through the huge windows. The sky was still light with the glow of a summer evening and, although the glass doors were shut, it made them feel as if they could be sitting out on a terrace somewhere exotic waiting for the sunset.

"I tried to order sun for your first evening here," Sirius joked. "But I failed. However, the weather forecast suggests that the weather is going to improve over the next couple of days."

"It's as nice here as it is at school most of the time," Ron commented with a smile.

"Well, I haven't been here through the winter yet," Sirius told them "But I doubt if I will get as much snow as you do further north. At least not right here by the coast, but further up in the mountains I think it gets quite a bit. It's not far to go though, especially if you drive up the lower parts. Speaking of which, has Harry told you his news yet?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks. "Obviously not," Sirius deduced. "Go on," he encouraged his godson.

"I passedmytest," Harry mumbled into his pasta.

"What?" Ron asked bluntly.

"I passed my driving test yesterday," Harry said clearly. He turned bright red as his friends congratulated him. "It's not a big deal, don't fuss."

"It's very good, Harry," Hermione told him. "You're ahead of me. I'm still learning. I'm a bit afraid of it actually..." she confessed.

Ron and Harry looked at her in amazement. "It's not difficult," Harry said. "You've passed much harder exams!"

"It's not the theory. I've passed that. It's the practical bit I'm scared of. I'm okay with books and learning."

"Stop worrying," Ron interrupted. "And that's really cool, Harry! I wish I could drive. But my mum has never let me near a car again since the whole Ford Anglia thing. And it's not as if I would even need to be able to drive."

"Maybe you could learn a bit while you are here?" Harry said hopefully, although the question was really more directed at Sirius.

"I don't think that is a very good idea, Harry. I'm sorry," Sirius replied. "I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Mrs Weasley, and if she has made a decision I don't think that we have any say in the matter."

Ron looked momentarily crestfallen, but soon looked up with a smile again. "You could take out Hermione though?" he said with a teasing smile at his friend. "Get her over her fear..."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione gasped in an uncanny reproduction of his mother's voice. "I think it is none of your business. And fancy taking Sirius's time for granted like that!"

The part of Sirius that in his youth had been the troublemaking leader of the Marauders spoke before his adult self realised that the words were forming. "It's no problem, Hermione. I'd be glad to take you out for a driving lesson."

That shut her up fast. She flushed scarlet, unable to turn down his offer although he knew that she wanted to. "Why...thank you," she said finally. "But I really can't let you give up your time for..."

"It's no problem. I would be honoured," he told her. Now she really had no way out.

"Okay," she said weakly.

"Well then," said Ron, with a smile that was dangerously close to a smirk on his face. "That's all settled." Hermione's glare was daggers but she was too polite to say anything in front of Sirius, Harry knew. She regarded him as an adult, if not a parent, and would treat him with the due respect.

Harry couldn't help wondering how Sirius would feel about that.

* * *

Sirius had a silver Clio. He said that it was a useful, inconspicuous car. Harry said that it was a girl's car. Sirius said that was fine and that Harry didn't have to drive it if he didn't want to. That shut Harry up.

Hermione sat in the driver's seat with Sirius on her left. The learner 'L's still hadn't been removed since Harry's test. The engine was running but they were still in Sirius's driveway. Slowly and precisely Hermione put the car in first gear, brought it to the bite point and released the handbrake, easing the car forward and turning it onto the road. The gateposts were narrow and for a second Sirius wondered if perhaps he should have moved the car and parked it on the road so that she didn't have to start with this awkward manoeuvre. But before he could even voice his thoughts they were through and onto the road. He didn't intentionally sigh with relief, but Hermione's eyes flicked to him all the same.

"That was fine," he said encouragingly. "Why don't we keep going up here and go straight instead of turning down into the village so you can practise steering on the mountain road."

She nodded, her brow furrowed with concentration. Sirius watched her hands on the wheel. She was gripping too tightly really, but she would loosen up as her confidence grew. Second gear, then third, then back to second for a sharp corner. When Harry had been learning Sirius's every second comment had been, "Wow, slow down. Harry, take it easy." Hermione was much calmer and drove at a steady, safe pace. Sirius too began to relax: her driving was fine. All she needed was some practice to build her confidence. He thought about asking her to park and do some reverse turns, but then decided that could wait until the next time he took her out. That there wouldn't be a next time had never crossed his mind. They didn't say much, whether due to the fact that they didn't really know each other very well, or because she was concentrating, Sirius didn't know. He didn't mind. Their silence was companionable and he watched her steer and change gear.

Slowly he became aware that he was watching the driving less and less and watching the girl more instead. He was horrified and looked back at the road. It was narrow here: they had wound their way around the base of the mountain and were descending back into the valley on the other side. The slope beyond the low slate wall rose highly on their right and dropped away on their left to the river at the bottom. A few lazy sheep wandered along the other side of the wall, chomping at the coarse grass and heather and clambering across the grey rock.

Ahead of them a red car came around the corner and Hermione eased on the breaks, but even travelling this slowly there was no way that the two cars could pass.

"Okay," Sirius said with a deep breath. "We just passed a lay-by. Can you reverse and pull in to let the car go past?"

Hermione nodded uncertainly.

She pulled the gear-stick out of first and across and into reverse. Her hands were trembling and it wouldn't go. She tried again but it still didn't hold.

"Don't jam it," Sirius cautioned. "Stay calm. The other driver can see that you are a learner. He'll be patient. Push in the clutch again," and as she did as he asked he put his hand on top of hers and directed the stick into reverse. He removed his hand instantly and made a show of looking over his shoulder as she moved the car backwards. He wasn't about to address the fact that he had wanted to leave his hand covering hers.

Slowly, and with shaking hands, Hermione pulled into the lay-by and the red car sped off up the road. She put on the break and sat, trying to calm herself. "It was going so well!" she moaned.

"You just panicked," Sirius told her. "Your driving is fine. You just need to practise and these are difficult roads."

She nodded, "Can we try again in a few days?"

"Of course," he smiled, very carefully not thinking about the fact that he would have agreed to anything she asked at that moment. She's young enough to be my daughter! I'm perverted! I obviously need to spend more time with women of my own age. "In the meantime," he continued. "Do you want me to drive home?"

"No," she whispered determinedly. "I have to face my fear. Otherwise I will never overcome it."

* * *

The next morning they woke to glorious sunshine. In the five months that he had lived at Plas Isaf Sirius could only remember a week of such warm weather. Harry was delighted that it had come while his friends were staying and suggested that they all go out in Sirius's boat to the island beyond the bay.

"Sirius has a boat?" Hermione asked, excitedly. "Oh, we have to go out!"

Ron looked slightly more dubious, but agreed that it was an experience not to be missed. The boys ran upstairs to put on swimming trunks with their T-shirts and Hermione went off to find her swimsuit. Sirius warned them all that the water would be much too cold to swim, but none of them paid any attention. Sirius put together a picnic and packed it, along with a blanket, into two rucksacks. He had just finished when the other three descended. He very carefully didn't look at Hermione, who had changed from her shorts into a pale yellow sundress with narrow straps that revealed the ties of her blue swimsuit underneath. In Sirius's opinion the change was not only unnecessary but impractical - they were going out in a boat after all. But nothing would make him suggest that she change back, although he knew that he would have to be very careful not to look at her very often.

Harry slid the glass doors open, sliding his feet into his shoes as he went. Ron followed instantly, and Hermione only waited to make sure that the clasps on her sandals were securely fastened before she too ran across the patio and down onto the grass.

Harry and Ron raced down the sloping lawn at such a reckless pace that Sirius was afraid that they wouldn't be able to avoid the trees or would fall and twist an ankle or... he stopped himself, reminding himself that they were seventeen years old. Again he felt that familiar but strange feeling - sometimes he didn't feel that he was much older than the others, just more exhausted, more careworn. Other times he felt ancient in their company, painfully aware that he was the father figure.

He walked slowly, the rucksack slung over his shoulder, letting the others reach the beach ahead of him. He heard Hermione's shriek of delight as she saw the little boat for the first time and caught up with the boys. They came into his view again as Sirius walked across the brow of the slope and down the steepest part of the grassland. It was wilder here, Sirius was letting it grow as naturally as on the hills on either side, whereas it was mown nearer the house. Poppies, bright yellow and orange, swayed gently in the heathery grass, scratching at Sirius's bare ankles and tickling his feet through his sandals. He stopped on the slope and watched the three young people clambering across the stony beach and scrambling up onto the bleached wooden dock. Moored at the end was Sirius's vivid blue and white motorboat, the Vivian. It wasn't very big but they would be able to fit all four of them in with a little room to spare. Sirius had taken Harry out several times over the summer, whenever the weather permitted it. The currents out beyond the bay were strong and unless it was a very calm day Sirius was unwilling to risk his little boat in the strong swell of the waves. He was used to boats, sailing boats as well as motors, as he had grown up on the coast. But it had been many years before the purchase of this little motor boat that he had last been out on the water. The urge to do so again had been fuelled by the fact that his little Welsh hiding place ran right down to the edge of the Irish Sea.

He watched Harry climb into the rocking boat and reach up to steady Hermione as she followed. It was a perfect place, he thought, not just for himself but also for Harry. It had been sixteen years since either of them had had a proper home, but at least he had memories of one. Harry had been less than a year old when his security and comfort had been ripped away from him. It had been as long for him as for Sirius, but those years were a much higher percentage of his life than his godfather's.

But now, now they both had a home: here at Plas Isaf, snuggled between the dominating, protective arm of the Snowdonia mountains and the rugged coastline. Here, where nobody would think to look for them. The villagers in Tal Y Bont thought that Sirius was an artist who liked to be left alone and whose son came to visit from boarding school during the holidays. Sirius went into the village to shop a couple of times a week and drove the forty-five minutes up to town every few weeks to the big supermarket. There weren't many wizards in the area, and none in the village, but Sirius had told Harry to keep a low profile for the most part anyway. Harry hadn't minded: he didn't like being in the public eye anyway and their solitary life had become very amiable. But Sirius knew that Harry missed his friends and so had suggested that he invite Ron and Hermione to stay for the last two weeks of the holiday. Dumbledore had agreed to inform the Grangers about Sirius and the Weasleys already knew as Mrs Weasley had insisted on knowing where Harry was going on the occasions when he visited his godfather.

It had sent Mr Weasley off in righteous indignation about the incompetence of the judicial system, but there was no way that he could organise a ministerial inquiry without releasing withheld information. However it comforted Sirius to know that someone in authority - other than Dumbledore - knew of his plight and could perhaps warn him if something was amiss.

So Ron and Hermione had come to stay and that should have been that.

Sirius's boots clumped against the boards of the dock and he swung down into the boat, positioning his rucksack next to Harry's on the floor, before starting up the motor and calling to Harry over the din to untie the mooring rope.

Hermione's face was glowing with anticipation while Ron looked somewhat subdued, and Sirius remembered that Harry had said that his friend was a bit susceptible to sea-sickness. But the water was calm and there was no reason to suspect that the ride would be anything but smooth. Their destination, Ynys Haf, lay just outside the bay, a rocky island with a few stunted, windswept trees that was small enough to walk across in fifteen minutes. On several occasions Sirius and Harry had taken the boat out there and had found the one sandy cove in which to beach their boat. The island was ideal for a picnic, Harry had decided, and had set about organising it with such a childish glee that the others couldn't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm.

It took barely ten minutes to cross the stretch of water and, looking back, Harry could see Sirius's house perched on the slope up to the road above the rocky beach, the cut lawn a paler green than the wild grass that surrounded it, the sun glinting off the bank of windows, and beyond that the hills, dark and brooding even in this unusual sunshine, slopes patched with heather and gorse, white specks that were sheep up on the high reaches, then stone mountaintops, curved with age, and behind them the azure sky decorated with thin wisps of white cloud.

It was beautiful and secure and Harry felt incredibly happy to be alive and in the company of three of the people he loved most in the world. His sheer pleasure must have been evident on his face because Ron poked him in the ribs and informed him that he had an inane grin on his face.

"So what if I do?" Harry replied blithely. "I've never been this happy before."

Something twisted in Sirius's chest, but the others didn't notice his expression and carried on teasing Harry:

"Not when you learned you were a wizard?"

"Not when you got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Not when Gryffindor won the house cup?"

"Not when you first caught the snitch?"

"Not when you got your owl results?"

"Not when you..."

Ron stopped. Harry was afraid that Ron was going to mention the Triwizard Tournament, but instead his friend flushed pink, glanced at Sirius and then said to Harry in a stage whisper, "Now when you first kissed Cho?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.

Harry turned the colour of a beetroot. "No," he muttered. "You know that's over. And thanks so much for embarrassing me in front of Sirius." He cast his godfather a rueful glance.

Sirius couldn't help smiling at Harry's discomfort. "Cho?" he asked innocently.

If possible Harry turned even redder. "I dated Cho for two months last year," he mumbled, not meeting Sirius's eyes, which were crinkled with amusement. "But that's over now. She's left school anyway."

"And you didn't tell me?" Sirius said in a mock-petulant tone. "I'm hurt, Harry."

"What could I say?" Harry expostulated. "Oh, by the way, Siri. I had a girlfriend for a bit but then she dumped me, but I'm not really hurt because I realised that I didn't like her that much. I mean - what is there to discuss?"

He realised grumpily as the words left his mouth that he had only given Sirius more fuel. And the teasing light still lingered in his godfather's eyes. "Why, Harry! I think that your love life makes for fascinating conversation."

"Well, it's more interesting than yours," snapped Harry, embarrassment making him irritable.

Sirius's face clammed shut and he turned away. Harry's words had struck a nerve. Then Hermione said diplomatically into the silence, "We're nearly there. Where is the beach? Have you chosen a picnic spot in advance?"

Sirius smiled down at her, grateful that she had changed the subject. "I though that we could wander a bit, let you and Ron explore and just see what we find."

She grinned back at him, "That sounds good." And then the little boat was chugging into the cove and Sirius cut the engine, stripped off his sandals and leapt over the side to haul the boat up onto the sand. As soon as they were beached, Ron and Harry leapt out of the boat onto the sand. Hermione followed at a more sedate pace and helped Sirius pull the boat up further and tie it to a tree. Then they shouldered the rucksacks and followed the boys. Much as he wanted to walk with her, Sirius didn't say anything as she scrambled up the dune and rock to catch up with the boys. They all waited at the top, surveying the island.

"Let's eat at the highest point that we can find," Ron suggested.

"Over there?" Harry pointed to a dune off to the side of the island.

"I think that one is taller," Hermione replied.

Harry shrugged and followed Ron down the sandy slope, through the coarse, spiky grass. Hermione, with the smaller rucksack, found a less steep way down. She had loosened her hair and it fell in waves below her shoulders, wild even though there was no wind, glinting bronze in the sun. She had picked the tip off a blade of grass and was shredding it idly with her thumbnails as she walked in a looping circle to meet the boys' path.

Sirius followed Ron and Harry, feeling somewhat out of place.

* * *

Harry reached the top of the sand dune first and sprawled in the rough grass on his back. He watched Ron appear over the side and sit beside him. Harry's endless Quidditch practices had made him fitter than his taller friend and Ron was far sweatier and more tired. The redhead stripped off his shirt and sank to sit beside his friend. Harry knew that the first words out of Hermione's mouth would be about sunburn on his fair skin, so he didn't bother to comment.

Sirius, and lunch, arrived next. He ordered them up and furnished them with a blanket to sit on. Harry grumbled good-naturedly that Sirius was being too adult. "I am an adult," Sirius reminded them.

"Yeah, but you don't seem like one most of the time," Harry said. Sirius wasn't sure whether he had meant it as an insult or a compliment, but it pleased him. Somehow he felt that he had lost part of his youth, his life cut off in his early twenties.

He reached into the bag and began to get things out. Some of the food was in Hermione's bag, but he had the surprise. He pulled a pack of four beer cans out and saw Ron and Harry's eyes light up. He wondered how this fit into Harry's idea of him being too 'adult', but neither boy commented, just reached over and helped themselves with words of thanks to Sirius.

Harry turned over and looked out over the island. Hermione was approaching at a leisurely pace. She looked up and smiled at him. "Ronald Weasley!" she called. "I hope that you are wearing sun block."

Harry choked into his beer.

She swung her rucksack down next to Sirius's and settled on the blanket. "Oh, it was a good idea to bring this," she said, plucking at the fabric. "I'm guessing it was Sirius," she commented, raising her eyebrows at the boys. Then she saw what they were holding and her expression changed.

"Sirius? Did you bring the boys beer?"

His immediate reaction would have been Hey, calm down, there's one for you too, but he suspected that approach wouldn't go down well. He settled for, "Yes," instead.

"But they're only seventeen," she protested. "It's illegal until next year."

"My presence here is illegal. Do you want me to go turn myself in to the authorities?"

"No!" she said, horrified.

"So," he teased. "Small things like underage drinking are a problem, while harbouring a convicted murderer is fine?"

She had the grace to look sheepish. "Well, I suppose it's 'within the confines of your home' - almost." She looked at the three of them. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Never, hon," Sirius said, and threw her the last can. She flushed and looked at it, but whether from the endearment or the can, he wasn't sure.

She raised her eyes to Harry's. Then Ron's. Both the boys had expressions schooled to innocence. With a wry smile she popped the can and took a long swallow. The other three burst into cheers and Hermione lowered the can and began to laugh.

"I think you're as bad as they are, Sirius," she said, hitting him playfully. "I thought that you were supposed to be the responsible one."

"I wouldn't want to deprive you of that position," he teased, resisting the temptation to hit her back, flirtingly.

"She's done her fair share of rule breaking," Harry commented, and the two turned to look at him.

Harry had the strange feeling that they had forgotten that he was there.

Ron was rooting through the containers of food. "Ham salad or roast chicken?" he asked Harry.

"Chicken," Harry replied absentmindedly.

"Ham, please," Hermione said. Ron handed them the packages. He then spilled the packets of crisps onto the blanket. And then apples and bananas and chocolate bars and a pack of yoghurts.

"No spoons," Ron commented.

"Oh, shit!" laughed Sirius. "And I was doing so well until then..."

Hermione raised and eyebrow and pulled four spoons out of the front pocket of her bag.

"How did you...?" Sirius began.

She winked at him and handed him one of the spoons. "I saw the yoghurts when you were packing. I suspected you'd forget so I stuck these in the bag for you when you weren't looking. I've lived for six years with these two, remember. You aren't that different, just, oh much older!" He knew that she was winding him up but her jibe still hurt, far more than it would have done from one of the others.

Harry saw the hurt on Sirius's face and the realisation on Hermione's that she had touched a dangerous subject. He casually knocked over his can of beer, sending it across Ron's lap. The other boy shrieked as the cold liquid seeped through his shorts.

"Shit, Harry! Look what you've done!" He leapt to his feet, batting uselessly at his wet shorts.

Harry couldn't help laughing, partly at his success in dissipating the tension between Sirius and Hermione, and partly purely at the amusing spectacle that his friend made. "Oh, Ron," Harry groaned, clutching his sides in laughter, "You look like you've wet yourself."

It was childish, but Sirius couldn't help laughing, even Hermione was having difficulty maintaining her sympathetic expression. "Don't worry," Sirius told Ron. "Aren't they your swimming trunks? They will clean up without a problem. I'll wash them when we get back to the house."

Harry felt briefly guilty at deliberately doing this to his friend but Ron sat down, whining about the wetness, but beginning to see the funny side of his situation. Hermione teased him that it wasn't something that would prevent him enjoying his lunch. Ron flicked a bit of grass at her, making her squeal.

"Can you pass me a yoghurt?" Hermione asked Harry, so he did. As she reached for it she dropped her spoon and it rolled into the grass. She cursed fluently, which surprised Sirius, as she went to fetch it. She rubbed it on her dress, peering at it. "On second thoughts, I'm not sure I want to eat with this," she declared. "It landed in a muddy patch."

"Here," Sirius said, without thinking. He handed her his spoon, wiping it on his shirt first. She took it, looking at him. "I promise you won't catch anything," he teased.

She blushed. "I didn't mean to... um... thanks, Sirius," she finished lamely, peeling the foil off the yoghurt and lifting a spoonful to her mouth. "Oh, I can't taste the cherry. It's all Sirius-y."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Sirius-y?"

Hermione laughed, "Uh-huh. It tastes of Sirius, it must be the spoon."

Sirius saw that she was watching him out of the corner of her laughing eyes. He couldn't resist taunting her, "How do you know what I taste like?"

She didn't pause a second, "I'm guessing that you taste like you smell."

"Okay, enough!" Harry broke in. "This is too weird. Can we have a normal conversation?"

"Sure," Hermione replied, recovering too quickly for Sirius's liking. "How about preventing Ron from finishing all the food without us?"

* * *

Ron decided that they should go swimming and Harry thought that the sandy bit of beach was the best place. Sirius gathered up the rubbish and wrappings back into his rucksack, "Do what you like, boys. But be warned: the water is freezing cold."

Harry shrugged and they started down the hill. "Are you coming?" Hermione asked Sirius as she made to follow them.

"No. How many times do I have to tell you? The water is too cold!"

She sighed at him, "I bet when you see how much fun we're having you'll join us."

He played his trump card, "I didn't bring my swimming trunks."

"Then you'll just have to go skinny dipping," she called carelessly over her shoulder as she followed the boys down to the beach.

He stood watching her go. Had she been flirting with him? It had almost seemed so earlier. But then why would she? As she so astutely had pointed out, he was old. Maybe it was just the way she was, maybe she flirted with everyone for attention. Except that she wasn't like that with Ron and Harry.

She was his godson's best friend, he reminded himself. And young enough to be his daughter, it was time that he stopped these improper thoughts.

He shouldered the large rucksack, having folded the now empty smaller one inside. He couldn't see the others anymore; they had dropped out of sight beyond the other dune, but he could hear their chattering laughter. He wondered if he should stay out of their way, after all he might not be welcome. It would be like having a parent around, and how many seventeen-year-olds wanted that?

But he walked towards the sound of their voices all the same, and stopped when he rounded the grassy dune and saw them. All three had stripped down to their swimwear and were repeating an intricate dance along the waterline: move up to the waves; stick foot in; hold for as long as possible; then shriek and run up the beach to the laughter of the others; repeat.

Harry saw him first and waved, running over. "You're right," he announced delightedly. "It's fucking freezing!"

Sirius thought that he should comment on Harry's language the way a parent should, but he didn't feel much like a parent. Instead he laughed and put the bad down, settling to sit down on a rock and watch them. Harry ran back to the others, where Ron had succeeded in getting two feet ankle-deep in the clear water and Hermione was counting out loud. Before she reached twenty, Ron was howling and hopping from foot to foot.

"That doesn't count!" Harry laughed as he joined them. "They have to both be in the water!"

Ron bent and scooped a handful of the water, which he flung at Harry. Harry yelled, kicking a large wave of water back at Ron. Ron screamed shrilly and Harry said he sounded like a girl. This infuriated Hermione who flung herself at the pair of them, dousing them both in freezing water. Sirius was glad that he had picked a rock that was far enough up the beach to avoid the spray. Ron appeared to be getting his revenge for Harry's earlier beer-spilling incident as the two of them were soaking wet although neither was standing in water deeper than his ankles, Harry's dark hair was plastered flat to his head with moisture and Ron's white shoulders were turning pink. Now that they were cooler they were less able to feel the sun's heat, and although Harry was naturally darker skinned than Ron, Sirius was sure that he would be treating both boys for sunburn come nightfall.

He supposed that neither really appreciated how necessary sun cream was, after all a swish of a wand and a few whispered words cured the problem where they normally lived. Hermione however, both due to her Muggle upbringing and her tendency for forethought, had while Sirius watched the boys, left the water to reapply the lotion to her shoulders. She tried in vain to convince the boys to do the same, and then decided as Sirius had that it was something that they would have to learn the hard way.

Sirius couldn't keep his eyes off her as she rubbed the cream into her soft skin. She was wearing a one-piece blue swimsuit, ever practical, ever Hermione, but she was still revealing considerably more skin than Sirius had seen before. She had her back to him, for which he was glad, and he wondered how it was that she didn't turn, didn't feel his hungry eyes on her as she flicked her sun-highlighted hair out of her way before returning with a shriek to the cold water.

* * *

Later the three wandered back up the beach, shivering even in the hot sun and clearly exhausted. The boys shrugged their T-shirts on over their wet shoulders, the fabric sticking to them irritatingly. Hermione rubbed the sand that had stuck to her bare, wet feet off on her dress before refastening her sandals, but she kept the dress twisted in her hand afterwards, rather than slipping it back over her head.

Harry suggested that they stay a bit longer and go find somewhere to sit, but Ron's shoulders were painful and Hermione was tired so Sirius decided to take them home.

Harry wanted to take a turn at steering the Vivian, so Sirius stood at his godson's shoulder, supervising. Hermione lay back on one of the seats, her head cushioned on by her arms, her eyes closed, one foot resting on the railing of the boat, the yellow, cotton sundress draped across her stomach and thighs modestly. Sirius noticed the way that Ron was looking at her, intently as if he was studying her, memorising every curve. He felt a jolt of protectiveness, of irritation and of jealously. He turned away again, watching Harry's hands and guiding the little boat safely back to its mooring.

* * *

Sirius loved the big windows looking down the hill towards the water. They meant that from anywhere in the kitchen or sitting room he could look out at the panoramic view, he could see the expanse of ever-changing sky and, should he want to, he could cross to the door and be outside in seconds. Sirius needed that freedom, that access to the outside. Since his years in Azkaban he had had a fear of being trapped, of being shut in small places. It wasn't something that he spoke to anyone about but he suspected that Harry knew, and he thought again how blessed he was to have such an astute and caring godson.

Sirius was up early; he had been unable to sleep and had gone downstairs. He was sitting in an armchair with a cup of coffee, enjoying the silence of the early morning, when Hermione came downstairs. Her hair was still damp from her shower and wild where it had been towelled dry, her shorts casting golden shadows on her legs in the morning sunlight.

Sirius greeted her, then turned to look back outside having made a resolution the night before to spend as little time alone with Hermione as possible. He didn't want to make things awkward, that was what he kept telling himself. Unfortunately for him, or perhaps fortunately although he would never let himself admit it, Hermione was not going to let him accomplish this new segregation. She poured herself a cup of coffee and then came over in her bare feet to sit with him.

"Can we go driving again today?" she asked, apparently unaware of the battle that was raging inside her host.

Sirius wrestled with his inner voice and lost.

"Of course, if you would like to."

She nodded smiling up at him from where she had settled on the rug, her eyes meeting his over the rim of her coffee cup. He smiled back nervously and looked out at the view again. Why does she make me feel like a little child? he wondered. He thought back to the week before, when seeing her in the midst of memories of his previous life had been a disappointment.

Now it wasn't that she could replace all those he had lost, but she could be something different. Someone new.

Of course, he wouldn't let her have the chance to be anything to him.

It was a relief when Harry came clattering down the stairs and thumping around in the kitchen looking for the cereal. It gave Sirius something else to think about. His polite conversation with Hermione had been going nowhere - how lucky they were to have this run of days of nice weather, how they expected it to change any time now. How British.

And how completely not what he wanted to say.

Harry wandered through and sat beside Hermione on the braided rug. Sirius wondered if this generation had an aversion to chairs. "What are we going to do today?" Harry asked as he munched through a mouth of cornflakes.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Hermione chided, hitting him lightly on the arm.

"Yes, Mum," he replied teasingly, but he waited until he had swallowed to do so.

Sirius couldn't help but notice how easily the words came to Harry's lips. Yes, Mum. It was a common saying in that circumstance, especially to Hermione, who did seem to be taking lessons in controlling the boys from Molly Weasley, but to hear it coming from Harry made Sirius realise how relaxed Harry had become in the last few months, how his loss, his childhood, didn't automatically bring him pain anymore. No agonizing memories surfaced in his mind when he said 'Yes, Mum,' although he had never had a mother. A satisfying warmth suffused Sirius and he smiled at Harry, who was in animated discussion with Hermione.

"... after lunch?"

"Sure, by then Ron might finally have woken!" she replied.

Sirius realised that he had missed their decision. A glance at his godfather told Harry that Sirius was lost, and he wondered briefly at the fact that Sirius had seemed to vanish into daydream a lot more often recently. But then, as long as they were happy daydreams, not the waking nightmares that would sometimes cloud his godfather's face, Harry wasn't going to question him.

"Hermione says that you agreed to take her driving, so we thought that if you did that this morning while Ron is asleep then we could all go out somewhere this afternoon. After all the weather is supposed to change tomorrow. Maybe we could go to the lake? Or something. I'll talk it over with Ron while you're gone."

Sirius nodded. It seemed sensible. The only problem was that it meant Hermione's company right now. And each time he was alone with her was harder. More difficult, he corrected himself.

* * *

Hermione didn't say a word for the first half hour. She followed Sirius's directions without a problem and they looped around the lower slopes of the mountains and down the valleys. Sirius studiously watched her driving and not her. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable and he was aware that Hermione's tension might have stemmed from more than the fact that she was controlling the little silver car.

Sirius tried to find neutral conversation, but nothing came to mind, so he was surprised when Hermione spoke first.

"I know that you don't know him very well, but have you noticed anything strange - that is different - about Ron in the last week?"

Sirius frowned with thought. "Now really," he said. "But then, as you said, I don't know him very well." As he said it he remembered Ron's eyes on Hermione that afternoon in the boat and wondered.

"Oh, he just seems...quiet. He's usually so energetic and funny. He's been a bit pensive."

"Maybe you should talk to him. Or to Harry," Sirius suggested.

"Yeah," she replied with a shrug. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'll talk to them when I get back."

They returned to silence for a bit, then Hermione tried again, "So, any suggestions as to where we go this afternoon? I suppose we might as well make the most of the sunshine."

"I was thinking of staying home, letting the three of you do your own thing." He hadn't thought it at all until he said the words.

Was it his imagination or did her face fall a fraction? It must have been wishful thinking.

"Okay," she said after a pause. "I forget that you probably get bored in our company. We aren't your age, after all." She gave a wry laugh, "We're not even your generation."

He could see that she was uncomfortable now, and her hands were tighter on the wheel, her eyes glaring at the grey rock of the hillside, her expression as prickly as the gorse that bloomed in scattered clumps on either side of the road.

At his direction she turned left onto a side road and descended into the valley and drove along the side of the river. "We're only about an hour's walk from Plas Isaf now," he told her, trying to fill the oppressive silence. "I walk up along here to the lake sometimes. There's a footpath which is more direct. I think Harry was suggesting that you go up there this afternoon, but whether he meant to take the car or..." his voice petered out as he got no reaction from her.

She drove in silence for a while more and they turned and began to climb a slope again. Three bicyclists were up ahead but Hermione slowed and avoided them with ease. "You should book your test for the Christmas holidays," he told her. "Your driving is fine: better than Harry's and you are naturally conscientious. You might need a few hours out in the car to remind yourself since you can't drive during the term, but I don't think that you'll have a problem."

It was a statement of fact; he hadn't meant it to be a compliment. She didn't take it as one either.

They drove through a narrow pass and out into the flat basin of the valley east of the cottage. Down below them Sirius could see the glint of the lake, its waters clear and silver in the sunlight. "That's the lake," he said, indicating it. Her eyes flicked briefly towards it. "It's called Llyn Tawel. That's Welsh for Quiet Lake. I think it's a lovely name."

"What does Plas Isaf mean?" she asked.

"The Lower House. Well 'Plas' is bigger than house, but not 'manor'. 'Place' I suppose. It was a farmhouse. But you could tell that." Stop babbling Sirius! he told himself. "Plas Uchaf was another farmhouse on the same tract of land - Upper House. It's just a ruin now, up on the mountainside. Sheep shelter in it. You can walk up and see for yourself sometime if you want, it's not far."

"I might do that," she said, smiling at him for the first time since they got in the car. "Do you speak much Welsh then?"

"No. A little. I can be polite and wish people good morning. That's about it. I was interested and looked up a few place names though. Everyone can speak English anyway, even if they would rather speak Welsh. The people in the village are very understanding and appreciate the effort I make to greet them in Welsh. I think that they would help me more with it if I hadn't made an effort to cultivate my privacy. They are very firmly a community - the shops, the chapel, the little school. I'm safer on my own, even though they are all Muggles. It's not worth the risk."

"You must get lonely." It wasn't sympathy particularly, just a comment.

"Not really. Harry comes in the holidays. And Remus drops in when he gets a chance. I don't mind solitude. I don't think I can be lonely again - anything's better than Az..." He broke off, not wanting to burden her with that.

They turned for home, and in what he recognised as a deliberate attempt to steer the conversation back to more neutral grounds Hermione asked, "What other place names do you know?"

"Not many, actually," he replied. "The valley with the river that we came from, that's Nant Tywyll. Dark Valley. Gave me a shiver, but it's quite appropriate, the sunlight hardly reaches to bottom due to the angle of the mountains. The village is Tal Y Bont, which means something to do with the river, or the bridge, I'm not quite sure. The island is Ynys Haf. Ynys means Island and Haf is Summer. Um... I think that's it actually. Pretty short list."

"And what was 'hello'? Did you say?"

"I don't think I did. 'Bore da' is 'good morning'."

"Bore da." It sounded different when she said it. There was something about the inflection that was wrong.

He grinned at her, "That's what I sounded like five months ago. It's 'da'. The a is long: bore daaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Yeah, long and deep. 'arrhhhh'."

She laughed and tried again, impersonating his low voice. It made him laugh too, and suddenly her company wasn't so difficult, but it was too late now because they were coming down the road back to Plas Isaf and their time was over.

* * *

While Ron was still asleep Harry had curled up with a novel in one of the armchairs in the little sitting room in the old part of the house. He was deeply engrossed in a P. D. James detective story when Ron wandered though from the main room with the big windows.

"Why are you in here?" he asked. "You can't see the view from these tiny windows."

"No reason. It's cosy. It reminds me of the Burrow actually."

Ron looked around. "Yeah it does me too a bit. Maybe that's why I like the big, new room. This is a bit too much like home."

Harry laughed and put his book down standing to follow Ron back through into the big open living room. "And is that bad?" he teased.

"Sometimes," Ron replied, gazing out of the window. "There are always so many people at home, you know. Mum fussing and the twins clattering and pulling jokes and Ginny screaming at me and Percy shouting that he needs peace to work. I'd have thought that some of them might have moved out by now, but no one seems to have the inclination. And Mum won't push them. She likes to have everyone around, especially since Charlie and Bill aren't home so often." He looked over his shoulder at Harry. "I guess I like the quiet here. I envy Sirius his solitude sometimes. Nobody watching him all the time, judging him."

"Judging? Ron, your family love you unconditionally. What is there to judge?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said absently, and Harry knew that he wouldn't get anything more.

Then he heard the door and voices and then Sirius and Hermione were back and they flooded the house with their presence. Harry put Ron's worries to the back of his mind. The other boy knew that he could come and talk whenever he was ready.

* * *

Ron, Harry and Hermione laboured up the steep slope directly across the road from Plas Isaf. Hermione had said that she wanted to see the old cottage and then they could walk along and maybe to the lake. Apparently Sirius said that it didn't take more than an hour.

But it was an hour that was mainly uphill. Harry wished fervently for his broom and his invisibility cloak. He knew it was all for safety, but lack of magic was really starting to get to him: it was like being back at the Dursleys. He had done all his homework in the first two weeks at Sirius's and now all his books were shut in a trunk in his room. He knew that this lifestyle must be taking an even more strenuous toll on Ron, but his friend had yet to comment. Admittedly his curiosity about electric appliances and Muggle machines had yet to wear off and he had even taken to sketching them to take back to his dad, but he had not complained about having to do everything by hand, so Harry felt his complaints had no leg to stand on.

He brushed the sweat off his forehead and continued up the path. Why Hermione had chosen to make them walk this on such a hot day was beyond him. It wasn't as if they had many hot days. It would probably be cloudy again by tomorrow and then they could have been much more comfortable.

Eventually they reached the ruins of the cottage and Ron and Harry sat and watched Hermione explore. "It's a pile of stones, there are barely three walls standing," Ron whispered to Harry. "Why is she so interested?"

"Because she's Hermione?" Harry whispered back. "She's interested in everything... well except Quidditch."

"That's true." Ron replied with a laugh. "She's even interested in your godfather."

Harry felt a tension clutch at him. So he hadn't been the only one to notice that? He stilled his voice, "What do you mean?"

"Well she's always talking to him about his life and reading his books. I mean he doesn't seem to mind and she never mentions his... his past... but you know what I mean. She's just so open with people, interested in them. I wish I could be like that."

Harry sighed to himself, interested in the most obvious sense. Why had he thought anything else?

"I guess some people are just like that, Ron."

"Yeah," his friend said quietly. "She notices everything."

* * *

Harry was torn on Sunday afternoon. Sirius would drive them to Bangor and then they had to take the train to London and then stay over to get the Hogwarts Express by eleven the next day. Harry desperately wanted to go back to Hogwarts, but for the first time he had a home that he didn't want to leave. He clung to Sirius as they waited on the platform in Bangor, wishing that there was some way his godfather could come to King's Cross to watch them leave. But of course it was impossible.

Ron shook Sirius's hand and thanked him politely and then the three boarded the train.

Sirius waved them away quietly and then once they were out of sight he raised his fingers to his cheek, to where Hermione had kissed him goodbye, and though it was just a brief chaste peck, like to an uncle or an old acquaintance, he could still feel the touch of her soft warm lips.

He got in the car and drove home. As he shut the door of the cottage behind him he stood in the silence, almost able to hear the echo of their voices, just to quiet to be heard. Christmas seemed a long way away.