Doors of Perception

Chapter Four

'Oh, you're old,' I hear you say

It doesn't mean that I don't care.

(The Everlasting. The Manic Street Preachers.)

She stood in front of the barrier but she couldn't see it. Sirius watched her with interest and some amusement, remembering the first time that he had crossed through.

"Where?" she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"Right in front of you," he replied. "It runs from those trees down across the valley to up just left of that slate outcrop."

They stood on the side of the mountain above Nant Tywyll at the border into the unplottable dragon reserve. Sirius had tried to convince Hermione, after Harry's departure and her phone call to her parents, that she had to see a doctor. From the sound of her conversation, he deduced that her mother had tried unsuccessfully to talk her into the same thing. But Hermione was adamant - she would not have someone she didn't know touch her. Much as Sirius was worried about and slightly annoyed with her, he understood. And so they had come to the compromise that he would examine her with inspection charms and that if he found anything he was unhappy about, she would go to a doctor. Sirius hadn't broached the subject of whether it would be a magical doctor or a Muggle one; he figured he would cross that bridge if he came to it. In order to do the spell, they had driven up into the mountains and parked a short distance from the barrier. Once inside the magical reserve, Sirius's charm couldn't be traced; there was too high a concentration of magic in the air.

Hermione stuck out her hand and walked forward slowly, waving it gently. Sirius couldn't help but smile at her, although his heart was in pain. Neither of them had mentioned the night before, and Sirius knew that he had to talk to her soon, find out how she felt, and explain to her why a relationship was impossible.

But not yet.

"You won't be able to feel it," he told her again with a laugh. "Just like you can't feel the barrier when you go to Hogwarts. It's just there. One minute you're on this side then you're on the other. You might just about be able to tell because of the density of the magic here, but you won't find it waving your arm around."

She looked back again, this time with a mock-petulant frown. Hermione hated being told that she was wrong. Then she stepped forward and from her slight gasp Sirius knew that she was on the other side. Within a heartbeat he too was through the barrier.

It was different, he knew that, although it was difficult to put his finger on what was different. The magic was there, hidden from Muggles who would pass through the barrier and continue up the mountain unawares and unable to see the dragons. There was a different scent on the air, he decided. That was what it was. The magic tasted almost metallic in his mouth after such a long time. The light was different too, not a lot, but just enough. Colours were more real. Instead of green the landscape was emerald, jade and viridian; the sky was more than grey, it was silver and platinum.

"Why isn't it like this at Hogwarts?" Hermione breathed. "I can actually taste the magic, feel it's density against my skin." She rubbed her hands together unconsciously as if to demonstrate her feeling.

"That's educated magic, tamed magic, magic civilised and under control. What you can feel here is wild magic. The magic that exists in the air because of the proximity of the dragons."

"Do you think we'll see a dragon?" Her eyes were shining although there was perhaps the taint of fear. He was glad that she was distracted. Perhaps filling her head with other things, presenting her with projects and academic puzzles, would help her forget what had happened.

"I doubt it. I've only ever seen one." Perhaps they could go dragon hunting later. There was something more important on his mind now. "Look, do you really want to do this? It would be much easier to go to a doctor. It's been years since I did any medimagic training and I would hate to hurt you."

She looked at him levelly and then held her arms away from her body as she had been taught. "Just do it, Sirius," she said sharply before closing her eyes.

He cast the incantation and her body was enclosed within a purple light. It swirled around her, darkening and lightening, scanning her internally. Sirius's eyes followed its progress, around her shoulders, down her chest and between her legs, then back up her back and over her head, across her face. She must have been able to feel its touch because she screwed up her eyes and twisted her mouth. Then it moved on, dividing to encircle her arms, then back and down her front again, pausing to orbit her waist and hips, then was gone.

Hermione opened her eyes, he could see the fear, the question, and without a word he enfolded her in his arms and felt her sigh her relief. "You're fine," he whispered, pulling away quickly, not wanting to tempt himself. "There's nothing wrong."

She swallowed hard and smiled, the exhaustion visible on her face now, and Sirius realised how hard she had been trying to keep up the façade of bravery, of strength. Now the smile was natural, although there still lurked a trace of pain in her eyes, the line of worry that had creased her brow was now smooth.

* * *

"Sit here," he said, indicating a big flat rock overlooking a sheep-covered slope. "I'll be as quick as I can."

She was looking distracted and she nodded wearily. &ldqo;Don't the dragons eat the sheep?" she asked, wearily.

"Sometimes," he said simply, trying to keep her attention on what he was saying. "Hermione, listen to me."

"I am listening," she said softly, placatingly. "I've heard every word. You're going to apparate to Hogsmeade and meet Harry and Ron. They will bring you my clothes and my books. See, I heard." She looked up at him. "Be careful. Don't be seen."

His heart was cold at the idea. Not only would be sent back to Azkaban, but no one would know where to find Hermione. She would be left here, alone, unable to cope. He forced himself to pull himself together. He had to go. Hermione, as well as not having her licence, was in no state to try and Apparate: she would splinch herself.

With a quick kiss to Hermione's temple, he Apparated away.

* * *

When he returned just over an hour later his eyes instantly sought her out, finding her just where he had left her, but curled up now, her body shaking, her hands bruised and bloody where she had beat them on the stone. He gathered her up in his arms, leaving the trunk where he had Apparated. Her arms wound chokingly tight around his neck and her teeth were chattering so much that he could hardly make out the words. "Don't leave me...don't leave me...I can't be alone... come back...come back..."

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here. Hermione? I'm here." He was scared. He had known that she was hurt, but she had appeared to be overcoming her fear. He had thought that she would be fine for the length of time it took him to get her trunk.

Her words were now incoherent, she was shivering and he wrapped her in his jacket. He suspected it wasn't the chilly March air that had caused the shiver however. He felt lost; he could hold her and soothe her, but he couldn't get through to her. He murmured her name over and over and gradually her panicked crying slowed into soundless sobs. He tried to get her to lift her head, to look at him, but she refused, her face nuzzled into his shoulder, her hands clutching at his back and hair. He kissed the top of her head over and over, just sitting, not knowing what to do other than to let her crying subside.

Down the valley a glint of emerald and gold caught his eye; scales flashing in the sunlight that was breaking through the clouds. "Hermione?" Maybe this would work. "Hermione. I think that there are dragons." No reaction, her face was still buried in the fabric of his shirt.

Over her head he watched. As it flew up the valley towards him he could see the dragon ever more clearly: wide, gleaming wings; multifaceted eyes.

Then he realised that they were looking for something. He sat very still and hoped that they weren't hunting. Not that they would be likely to attack humans; but they were still very large, very imposing-looking reptiles. "Hermione?" he tried again. "Turn around slowly. Very slowly. There are dragons flying down the valley."

This time she did stir. Silently, she moved her head a fraction, resting her cheek against his chest and looking out at the heathery hillside.

He felt rather than heard her gasp. The largest dragon turned, its huge wings beating so much air that Sirius could feel it as a wind even from where he sat. The gigantic scaled body swung in a wide arc and headed back up the valley away from them. Then it turned again and swooped gracefully back. It shot straight as an arrow towards a mountain peak in the distance then wheeled back again, gliding on invisible air currents. Then it tucked its wings in and dove down out of sight before swinging back upwards with such powerful ease that Sirius felt his breath catch in his throat. The creature turned, circling higher and higher and following the movements of the air, then it banked around and headed straight back down the valley, passed where they were sitting on a rush of air, to join the two smaller dragons who were still hovering like giant, reflective birds of prey, where Sirius had first seen them. As it soared past, he caught a glimpse of its huge, multi-faceted hawk-eye, scrutinising them. It made him feel uncomfortable, but at the same time relieved. It didn't stop so they were obviously not what it was looking for.

He scanned the mountainsides, trying to see among the rock and slate and heather and gorse what might have drawn the dragons here. At first he couldn't see anything, the clouds casting shadows across the uneven surfaces, pockets of darkness and expanses of sunlight. Then, down and across from where they sat, Sirius was certain that he saw a person move out from the shadow of a slate outcrop and walk down across the scree-laden grass. The figure was dresses in light colours and raised its arms up as if greeting the enormous reptile that approached it. Then the sun went back behind a cloud and the landscape darkened. By the time the dragon had moved enough for him to see, Sirius saw that the figure had gone.

* * *

He sat, wrapped in a warm fleece, on the patio outside the living room window. Hermione was curled on the sofa inside, close enough that she could see him through the glass. She had calmed enough to peruse his bookshelf once more, which reassured him. "Escapism," she had told him wryly, immersing herself in Dickens.

He was worried about her. Her mood seemed to wring back and forth almost irrationally. She would be fine, maybe not happy but at least capable of a smile one moment, and then for what appeared to be no reason a shadow would cross her face and she would turn away, or drop what she was carrying. Twice she had broken down in tears and hurled the objects across the room. Once it had been a book, the other time a teacup.

He knew that recovery would be a long time in coming and that there was nothing that he could do except be there for her when she needed him. It seemed that being alone was the hardest thing. Two days before, when he had gone to get her trunk, and then again when he had gone to the shop to buy food. He knew now that he couldn't leave her alone for any length of time. She seemed to be okay if she knew that he was in the next room, and certainly if she could see him, even through a doorway or if he was in the kitchen and she was down the step in the living room. She managed to shower on her own, and to sleep in her old room, as long as the bedroom doors were both open. She said that she could hear him snore and that it reassured her than he was there, that she wasn't alone. Sirius hadn't ever thought that he would be glad that he snored.

It was getting dark and he would have to go back inside soon. The sun was setting, the blood red orb melting on contact with the sea, the scarlet bleeding into the liquid and spreading like spilled ink. The clouds were orange and pink, heralding sun the next day. He shivered a bit, pulling the fleece closer around him. Everything felt hazy and heavy, and he knew that he was on the verge of falling asleep and he really should make himself go inside, but it was far too much effort.

It was from this trancelike dream that Hermione woke him as she padded outside in her trainers, almost silent on the patio stones, and sat in the chair beside him, her hair loose and her eyes reflecting the pain of the wounded sky. When Sirius looked at her she seemed blurred and he realised that his eyes were full of tears, but he didn't remember crying. She took his hand and smiled softly, receptively, and it was all the encouragement he needed and he had to tell her and the words came tumbling out.

He told her about Vivian and Robin and the tears that filled her soft, brown eyes generated more in his. He told her about the hours of waiting, and then about identifying the bodies, about holding the dead, mangled corpse of his son and how he had been too upset to cry. Too dry, too shocked. The world had ended, the sky had come crashing down and there was no need to live any more. He told her about Remus and Peter and James and how they pulled him back from the grey edge of death and how he had been just finding new reasons to live when Lily and James had been killed. This part of the story Hermione knew, but he had to tell her again, had to let her understand what tortured his soul and what she was getting herself involved in if she chose to stay with him. He told her about the confrontation with Peter and how, when he had realised what had happened he had broken down in hysterical, maniacal laughter. There had been nothing left except hatred, burning hatred. He hadn't struggled when he was arrested. He had lost those last few tenuous threads that bound him to life. He told her about Azkaban, about the sorrow and the darkness and the dementors and about how he had stayed sane curled as a dog in the bleakness of his island cell. Then he told her about the realisation of Peter's continued existence and the burning thirst for revenge that had come upon him like a bloodlust. That Peter, dear, sweet, kind, shy, innocent Peter had betrayed James and Lily to the one force that had already deprived him of Vivian and Robin. The hatred had been more than he could bear, but it had been a heaven-sent gift. It had given him the motivation to continue living, to escape, to plot and scheme and plan. He told her about escaping in the form of a dog and about seeing Harry in Surrey and how much he had looked like James and his second realisation, that this boy deserved more in life than he had been given, that this boy deserved to be loved. And then he told her about finding his way to Hogwarts and about hiding out in the grounds and about Crookshanks and finding the list of passwords and the exhilaration of being so close to his goal.

The he broke down, crying, and knew that he didn't need to say any more. She knew, she understood and she pulled him to her, soothing him as he had soothed her, and crying on his shoulder as he wept on hers, sobbing for all that he had lost.

The sun plummeted below the horizon, its flames extinguished in the ocean. Still they sat, on the flagstones now, having sunk from the chairs in their need to reach out to one another. Sirius was no longer sure who was comforting whom. Telling her had released something inside him, perhaps allowed his spectres to rest.

"What did she look like?" Hermione asked softly. "Vivian?"

"She was dark haired and had big eyes. She was beautiful. Her..." a sob overtook him as he realised that he didn't know. He couldn't describe her. He loved her still as an ache, but her face was fading, almost gone. "I have no pictures of her," he confessed. "I have nothing. They took everything when I went to Azkaban. It was only because we had all taken the precaution of giving Dumbledore our Gringott's vault keys in case anything happened that I even have money."

He rubbed his hands together, now feeling another loss, a missing weight. "They took all Robin's things that I had saved. I'd given some to Harry, but kept my son's favourites: some books, some toys, the clothes he had been wearing when he came home from the hospital. They took all of that and I can't get them back." His head sank into his hands. "They even took my wedding ring," he whispered. "I had taken to wearing Vivian's ring on a chain around my neck and the Auror who escorted me to the island ripped it off me, leaving a bruise on the back of my neck. Then he stripped mine off my hand. It was the only thing I had that mattered and they took it anyway."

He took his hands in hers, tracing with her finger the skin where the marriage band used to lie. "You still love her." It was a statement, not a question. He saw the pain in her eyes, even as it was hidden by understanding and resignation.

Very slowly and very softly he whispered, "Yes," and lifted Hermione's delicate hands to his lips. She swallowed hard, more tears on her face, and wouldn't look at him. "I will always love her. Even when I can't remember more than her name, she will have a place in my heart." Hermione was still silent. "That doesn't mean I don't love you, Hermione." He hadn't meant to say it, but it had been hanging in the air unsaid for too long.

"I know," she replied quietly, almost as if raising her voice above a whisper would have somehow ruined the solemnity of the moment. "Just like you love Harry, and Remus and..."

"No," he interrupted her. "No. The way I love Vivian."

She did raise her eyes now, looking at him in confusion and wonder. And hope. The twilight darkness had closed in around them now as if nothing else in the world existed but the two of them, caught in their moment, timeless and separate. "I love you, Hermione," he repeated. Another droplet ran silently down her tear-stained cheek. "I love Vivian and I always, always will. She is a part of me. But my love for her and for Robin doesn't alter my love for you. It is as strong and as powerful and as enduring. You give me something to live for, a chance of happiness once more."

Then he was afraid that he had said too much. It wasn't fair to saddle Hermione with such responsibility. But then she needed to know where he stood and what was at stake.

She didn't smile; her eyes were serious. They watched him, searched his. Then she must have found what she was looking for because her lips curled up slightly and she leant forward to brush them against his. "It's getting cold out here. Shall we go in?" She didn't need to say that she understood, he could see that without words, and he was willing to give her time to think, if she needed it.

***

That night he woke when her cold body slid into his bed. "I had a nightmare," she whispered in explanation. But she didn't say about what. Her cheeks were wet with tears when he kissed them. They fell asleep together, him holding her in his arms. She didn't ask for more and he didn't offer it.

By the time he woke in the morning she was gone.

It became a pattern. Not every night, but often she would come to him. Sometimes they made love, but usually they just lay together, soothed in each other's arms. He missed her the times she stayed in her room, but he never asked her about it, never questioned her about anything; he would be there when she needed him and she would be there when he needed her. In her arms he seemed immune to pain too.

***

"Come," she said one morning. "Let's go back up to the dragon reserve."

He looked at her over his bowl of cereal. "Why?" He could hear his surprise in his own voice.

"Well," she said sheepishly. "I was a bit too upset to really see the dragons last time. I'd like to have a look for some." She looked at him hopefully and he couldn't refuse.

"Well we might not be able to find any."

"Can we go see anyway?"

So they ended up about an hour later parking high above the valley and walking up the slope to the invisible barrier. She slipped her small hand into his and smiled up at him when he looked down at her, making his heart surge with love.

They had an unsuccessful morning looking for dragons, but to be honest neither really minded. It was an unusually sunny day for March and they ate sandwiches on the grass, admittedly wrapped in their coats, but still enjoying the scenery. Sirius had to admit that had he been looking for a romantic place to take her for a walk he couldn't have done much better than this. The silver river wound its way along the valley floor far below them and dark patches of trees marched in forestry-commission rows up the slope on the other side. Tiny white sheep moved among outcrops of bare rock and patches of rough grass and heather, golden flowers of gorse contrasting with dark, thorny leaves, the blue of the slate walls mirroring the paler blue of the sky.

"Did you know," Sirius said lazily, looking at Hermione. "They say around here that when gorse goes out of bloom kissing will go out of fashion."

She laughed, a sound he hadn't heard for some while, and leaned across to kiss him. "I don't think that will ever happen!"

"I hope not," he replied, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. A whoosh of air and a low, keening cry made them spring apart in surprise and look upwards in unison as two Welsh Green dragons soared overhead. As they passed, Sirius and Hermione turned and watched them circle down the valley.

Sirius thought that he saw that shadowy figure again, standing some distance down the slope from where they were. He asked Hermione, who shook her head, confessing that her eyes had been glued to the magnificent reptiles and she hadn't seen anything.

"I think he's something to do with the dragons. Calling them or... I don't know." Hermione looked interested, but Sirius felt more worried.

"Shall we go find him?" she asked and his frowned deepened.

"I can't. Remember? I'm a convict on the run."

"Oh! Of course. You can't let any wizards see you."

"Right."

"Okay. Then we'll go the opposite direction." He couldn't believe how much he loved her. Most girls would be somewhat upset to be reminded that they couldn't go anywhere in public with their... their what? What was he to Hermione? Boyfriend sounded wrong. He...

"Siri! He's over there!"

Sirius half turned and transformed into a dog instantly as the man came out along the path around an outcrop of rock, his purple and blue robes toning almost exactly with the slate and then Sirius would have sworn that they changed to a dull green as he crossed the grass. But he didn't pursue this thought any further, he didn't pursue any thought, his mind was assailed with the memories that he had tried to suppress. He backed against Hermione's legs and felt her rest her hand on his back. He remembered now why he had been avoiding transforming. Around him were rushing grey thoughts, ghosts of dementors, of Aurors, haunting memories of his time on the run.

Somewhere distantly he could hear Hermione's voice and he tried to focus on that, but it was blurred and it was slipping away and then her arms were around his neck and she was calling his name, telling him it was okay, telling him that he could turn back and so he did, collapsing exhaustedly on the cold grass.

"What was that about?" he asked once he had his breath back. "I'm sorry. I tried to listen, but I panicked."

"What happened?" she asked, concern in her voice, ignoring his question.

"Nothing. It's okay. I just find becoming a dog pretty traumatic. I've tried coming up here twice to change, but it brings back all these bad memories. I'm fine now."

She nodded, not looking convinced that he was okay. "I don't know who that was," she finally said. "Some old man with long robes and a staff. He said that he was watching the dragons and raved for a bit about how beautiful they are. He appeared to be some kind of dragon-geek. He was talking about those as being 'fine specimens of the something-or-other line'. He hardly looked at you, so I guess he didn't think anything suspicious."

Sirius smiled. "So there was nothing distinctive about him?"

"I didn't say that. He had these deep, vivid blue eyes. They looked like they were boring right into me and reading my soul. You know the way that Dumbledore looks at you as if he knows what you are thinking and when you are lying? It was like that but multiplied by about twenty. He had this old man's washed out face and these amazing eyes. It was really weird."

"Hmm. Oh well. We'll keep our eyes out for him any time we come up here."

***

But they didn't go back up into the mountains after that day. Not for a while. Sirius had no longing to try and transform again and now that Hermione had seen her dragons she was content.

She didn't push him to face his fear of being a dog. They tried to bury their pain and were quite successful, smiles and laughter gradually seeping back into their everyday life. Hermione began to talk about her plans for the future and started studying to keep her schoolwork up to date. Sirius knew that she had applied to the European Institute for Higher Magical Studies. When he asked if she had actually heard from them she replied with a huge smile, "Yeah. They offered me a place. Hélène's been teaching me French to help with it. Even Percy Weasley didn't get a place!"

He was pleased to see her excitement, but his heart sunk at the idea that she was going away. She must have seen his expression, although he tried to hide it. She quickly tried to reassure him, "It's not next year. I have delayed entry. I d decided that before all this happened." She waved her arm vaguely, leaving him without indication whether she meant her relationship with him or her trauma with Draco.

"Oh. So what are you doing next year, then?"

She frowned at him, pouting her lips teasingly. "Well I don't know. I sure as hell won't be spending any time here!"

He pulled her to him, looking over her shoulder at the page she was writing. "Je crois que les problèmes sont..." he began to read. "What is this?"

"Oh, just practise. I don't think I will ever be fluent enough. Hélène came to Hogwarts to improve her English. I was thinking that maybe I should go to France for a bit in my gap year to see if that helps me." She turned to look at him. "Do you speak French? I suppose they would recognise you over there too?"

"Je parle le Français," he replied softly. "Vivian's mother was French." She bit her lip.

He didn't want to hurt her, and he wanted her to know how much he appreciated her suggestion. "We'll have to see. Maybe it would be possible."

***

"I don't want them to come," she said in late March as the Easter break approached. "I don't want to see them."

Sirius turned in surprise. "Seeing them will bring it all back," she continued. "I've been fighting it off; here with you I have been healing. I don't want the wound ripped open again."

"Hermione, this is Harry's home. I can't ask him not to come."

"I know," she sighed. "And I guess I do want to see them really. It's just I'm afraid. They might want to talk about it. I'm not ready to do that."

"They will do whatever you want, Hermione. You know that; I shouldn't need to tell you."

"I know." She looked at him with a half smile. "I know. And it will be good. They will distract me. We're still planning to re-decorate the living room?"

"Yeah, if you feel up to it."

This time her smile was genuine. "I do. I think it will be good for me to worry about something else."

"Worry?"

"Well, you and Harry aren't exactly the most practical men with your hands." He looked mock-insulted and she laughed. "Okay, okay, you have very talented hands. In some respects. That's not what I meant. I was insulting your D.I.Y. skills not anything else." He stuck his tongue out at her and she kissed him, gently, lingeringly. "Maybe that's another part of the problem," she sighed. "I don't want to hide it, but I don't think that I can face telling the others about us either. How do you feel?"

He had to admit that he was slightly uncomfortable, more than slightly uncomfortable, with the idea of telling the others, particularly his godson, how close he and Hermione had become. And yet he didn't want to keep a secret from them. "Well, how about we don't say anything at first, and see how it goes? It's not a conversation I am wildly anxious to have with Harry. But I'm not sure I can stand hiding it from them either, and I'm even less sure that I can manage not to kiss you every time I see you."

She blushed and kissed him to thank him for his compliment. "Okay, we'll see how it goes then. I'll have to stop sneaking into your room at night. Ginny might wake and see I was gone, even if I was careful to be back by the morning."

"Oh, I hadn't even thought about rooms. Are you okay with sharing with Ginny? We could give her Ron's room and put Ron in with Harry like when Remus was here. Do you need personal space?"

"I don't mind sharing. It will be nice to have someone else in the room if I can't come to you. Ginny's sweet. I'm sure she won't bother me. Besides, I want to go back to Hogwarts after Easter and I'll have to share with Parvati, Lavender and Hélène then anyway. Even if Hélène keeps her nose out, which she is likely to do given that ever since she came from Beauxbatons she has been better friends with girls in Ginny's year than ours, Lavender and Parvati will be full of questions. I'll have to face that."

It was the first time she had mentioned going back to Hogwarts. He had known in theory that she would, after all she had been studying hard in the last few weeks so as not to fall behind, but somehow it had always seemed distant. Now it was real.

"Will you manage?" he asked. There were layers in the question that he hadn't intended, but the sober expression on Hermione's face told him that she understood. "I've kept up with my studies. Dumbledore will have told the others not to question me too closely. I won't ever have to be in a room with him. I can manage." She brushed his lips gently with hers. "The hardest thing will be being so far from you."

He knew that she lied, facing the school would be more difficult, but there was something genuine in her sentiments, and he knew that he would have trouble carrying on once she was gone. The house would be so empty; she filled it with life, even if with her happiness came pain, if her laugher was followed with tears. When she was gone he would be alone with his memories once more.

As if sensing his melancholic mood, she climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm not leaving yet. We still have two weeks. And it's not as if I can't come back. You won't be able to get rid of me over the summer."

He smiled against her lips. "As if I would try and get rid of you." For a while they were silent, convincing each other without words how much they would miss one another. Her hands encircled his neck and pulled at the buttons on his shirt. He raised his eyebrows, "You're not going to wait until we go to bed?"

She laughed at him, running her hands down over his body, "No. Why should I?"

He had to admit that he could think of no reason at all.

They made love there on the sofa, the wide windows letting the sunshine, like liquid gold, in to spill across them. She was gentle with him, teasing him, moving slowly to make him savour every second, not allowing him the simple release and relaxation that he wanted. It was so different to holding her in his bed in the dark, and he realised that it opened something up inside him. Loving Hermione was more than just about healing, more than her helping him and him helping her, it was about love: pure, honest and simple. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be wanted, loved, so completely, without judgement, without conditions, without fear.

She sat in his arms afterwards, her face silhouetted against the windows, her bushy hair darkening and curling at her neck with sweat, the playful fingers of the sunlight caressing her pale skin. "I love you," he whispered against her shoulder.

She laughed. "What was that? I could feel your breath, but not your words."

He kissed the fleshy part of her arm where it met her shoulder, "I said that I loved you. And I do. I also think that I want to paint the living room the colour of your skin in morning sunlight so that I will never ever forget this moment and what you have taught me."

She laughed softly. He loved that sound. He would do everything that he could to keep her laughing. He wouldn't let the arrival of the others be a shadow over them. He wouldn't let her remember Draco. Not now that she was beginning to find happiness again.

***

Almost too soon they arrived. Hermione opened the door to them with a smile and helped them bring in their bags. The camaraderie was still there between the four, between Hermione and the boys especially, Sirius was glad to see. There had been fear in their eyes when they arrived, but her apparent happiness had gone a long way towards allaying it. The relationship which had suffered the most was Hermione's friendship with Ginny. Hermione had aged immeasurably and it had put a distance between them. Sirius could see the sadness in Hermione's eyes when she realised this, and the way that she tried to reach out to the younger girl, tried to act as if nothing had happened, as if they were still allies: the girls in a house full of men.

Perhaps it would grow easier, he thought. Once Ginny could see that Hermione hadn't really changed. That underneath she was still Hermione, she just had more weight on her shoulders.

Harry had not arrived alone. He and Ron lugged between them a cat's carrying case, both trying to keep it carefully balanced, and they laid it gently on the floor in the kitchen.

"Um, Sirius," Harry began.

"I hope that isn't one of Hagrid's beasts?"

"No!" Harry laughed, too quickly, too nervously. "It's not. It's... he's... for my Advanced Care of Magical Creatures project. It's not exactly a normal choice, but when Charlie asked, especially knowing that you live here, I couldn't say no..."

Even before Harry told him, Sirius knew.

"It's a dragon."

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"It's a Common Welsh Green, just a baby, not much fire, I promise. Just little bursts. He was found, and he needs to be cared for and then released into to wild again."

Hermione's eyes were falling out of their sockets in amazement. At least, Sirius thought, they had certainly found a distraction. "I would have thought that you of all people, Harry Potter, would not want to be in such close proximity to a dragon ever again!"

"Hermione. He's only tiny. You remember how sweet Norbert was?"

"I remember Norbert. Other adjectives than sweet come to mind though."

But Sirius could see that her astonished ire was weakening under the combined pleading gazes of Harry, Ron and Ginny. With a sigh she motioned them to open the lid of the carry case.

Sirius stepped closer warily and peered in over her shoulder. The baby dragon was asleep, its little arrowhead tail curled around and across it's nose like a cat. A pair of pearly eyelids quivered slightly as it slept, glistening scales moving rhythmically up and down. But the thing that Sirius noticed first was the colour.

"What kind of Common Welsh Green is red?"

"It's an albino," Harry explained. "There is no pigment in its scales so you can see right through to the blood vessels that run just below the skin. Don't you think he's beautiful?"

Sirius nodded, not taking his eyes of the sleeping dragon. "And you're keeping him how long?"

"A total of six months. So I have to release him in July. Charlie was hoping that he could get permission to integrate him into the reserve here, rather than fly him out to Romania."

Hermione had crouched beside the box, in an imitation of Ginny's idolising stance as she gazed at the dragon. "Does he have a name?" she asked.

"Idris," Harry told them. "It's the Welsh version of Arthur."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "King Arthur had a red dragon banner," his godson explained, quickly. "It's nothing to do with Ron's dad or his hair!"

Sirius was still sceptical, and the smiles on both Ron and Ginny's faces told him that they too didn't wholly believe their friend.

"Well, Idris," he declared. "Welcome to Plas Isaf."

***

Sirius flatly refused to allow the dragon to sleep in the house. "It may be a stone house," he had said. "But the floors and fittings are wooden." Harry had agreed that it was impractical, and Idris had a box in the garage, the car now permanently parked in the driveway, well out of harm's way.

The first morning after they arrived, Harry rose early and, dressing quickly, descended to the garage to check on his dragon. He found Ginny already sitting beside the box.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. "How is he?"

"Fine," she smiled shyly. "I couldn't sleep, so I came down. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, kicking himself for answering so quickly. "Yeah, um... you can always come see him. It's no problem." He sat uncomfortably on the other side of the box, watching Ginny's white fingers dance gently down the dragon's spine. Idris arched his back and made a little rumbling sound. Ginny snatched back her hand, afraid that this was a prelude to a burst of fire.

Harry smiled. "No, I think he liked that. I think he was purring." As anyone would be if Ginny was rubbing her fingers down his back...

"I didn't know dragons purred," she said, tentatively reaching back out to stroke the scales once more.

"Neither did I, but now we know."

She ran her hands up the ridge of bone and scratched the back of the dragon's head. He tilted his head back, golden eyes blinking at her, and Harry knew that his dragon was as much in love with Ginny as he was.

It was a pity that Ginny clearly seemed to favour the one of them.

A sound at the door made them both turn, and Hermione entered with a slight laugh. "I guess we all had the same idea."

"It's not very often you have a dragon in the house," Ginny commented with a smile.

Harry's heart flipped at the sight. If only he could make her smile at him like that. Hermione settled on the other side of Ginny, her eyebrows raised so that he could see them and Ginny could not. He felt himself blush and gave a slight shake of his head. She smiled at him, teasing him and he glared back across the red head that was bending between them over the box.

He was glad that he had brought the dragon, not only did it give him an excuse for talking to Ginny, who seemed to want to spend every waking moment in Idris's company, but clearly Hermione, after her initial shock, was interested in the creature too. Sirius had said, when he came to Hogmeade to collect Hermione's trunk a few weeks before, that Hermione was strong, but that they were not to mention her trauma while they were at Plas Isaf. Or ever, Harry thought, unless she brings it up. The dragon was a welcome distraction, a nice neutral topic of discussion to fill those awkward pauses.

The little dragon had curled back up, his scales rising and falling regularly as he fell back asleep. "He sleeps a lot," Harry explained to Hermione. "He's still just a baby."

"Shh," Ginny chastised him. "Can't you whisper?" Then to Hermione, "He doesn't sleep as much as he did when Harry first got him. And he's grown. You should have seen how small he was."

He loved her, but Harry could have strangled Ginny then. He had been trying so hard, and pretty successfully, to bridge the gap with Hermione. The last thing they needed was someone pointing out that she had been away from school, that she had been missing things. He didn't want to remind her.

Hermione just gave Ginny a weak smile and replied softly, "Yes, I wish I had been able to see him."

The sadness in her voice wrenched Harry even more than pain would have done.

***

Sirius was going to drop them off up near the dragon reserve and then drive up to buy some paint from the town. Everyone piled into the car, Harry in the front passenger seat with Idris in the box on his lap. Ron helped him carry it up to where both he and Hermione figured that the barrier was.

Then they were through and Harry was breathing the heady air, so unlike anything he had expected, so unlike Hogwarts. Here there was something raw, wild and untamed. Untameable.

They opened the box, and he lifted little Idris onto the grass, all four getting out their wands. Idris couldn't fly far, just little flutters that took him a few metres, but they wanted to make sure. His little nostrils flared and he lifted his head, tilting it this way and that, sensing the air, the space, the magic all around him.

Then, with little purposeful steps, he headed up the hill. Harry hurried after, his eyes on his dragon, no longer watching the others, hearing them call to one another behind him as he scrambled up the rocky slope, grazing his knees on the slates and cutting his hands on the brambles that the dragon seemed not to notice.

It flattened out as they neared the top and Harry had to pause to catch his breath and clutch at the stitch that had developed in his side. Luckily, Idris deemed this a good place to pause too, and he stretched up on his powerful back legs and released a bellowing call that echoed down the valley.

A thudding fear pulsed though Harry. What is Idris was calling the other dragons? What if he was going to join them? Would the adult dragons accept him? Would the adult dragons attack Harry for being so close to the baby?

But nothing happened. No dragon answered the call, if call it had been. Part of Harry was relieved, but part of him was disappointed.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione crested the brow of the hill, Ron struggling to cart the carry case with him.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, her eyes instantly focussing on Idris. Harry suppressed the frustration once more that she liked his dragon more than she liked him.

"I think he was calling the dragons. But nothing has answered."

"That's where you're wrong," Hermione said softly, pointing to a figure approaching from the other slope. As he got closer, they could make out a boy a little younger than they who had dark, curly hair and long robes that seemed to blend into his surroundings. Almost like an invisibility cloak, Harry thought, except more like a camouflage cloak than an invisible one.

"I heard your dragon," the boy said as he reached them. His voice was deep, melodious and hummed with a musical, Welsh lilt. "He's beautiful; we don't have any other reds here."

Harry couldn't help feel instinctively possessive of Idris, and he stepped forward jealously. "Yes, he is beautiful. But he's too young to join the herd. I'm raising him until he is old enough."

"Certainly," said the strange boy, and he turned his vivid blue eyes on Harry. Harry fumed inside at the way that it sounded like the boy was granting permission. Dammit, Idris was his! "Will you bring him to join the herd when you are both ready?"

"Yes," said Harry, reluctantly, defensively.

The boy smiled, and looked down at the dragon. Then back at Harry. "Do not become too fond of him. Dragons are wild animals." And then with a nod to the others, he was gone.

"Okay, that was weird," Ron commented. Harry was seething inside, but knew that it was unjustified. Ginny stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm, whether comforting or restraining, Harry didn't know.

"I think we should go back," Hermione said, softly. "We should tell Sirius about this."

Harry was somewhat at a loss when Sirius couldn't explain what had happened. "I suppose he was just a dragon enthusiast," his godfather said, exchanging a glance with Hermione that confused Harry.

***

Ron offered to help with supper, as the other three had gone out into the garage to look at the dragon, again.

"I think he's a lovely little beast," the boy told Sirius. "But he's not that interesting. He's asleep for goodness sake! I've never been able to get quite as roused up about him as Harry and Ginny. But then that gives them something to do together."

Sirius detected a sense of resignation and fond irritation before Ron continued. "I mean, they so obviously fancy each other, but neither has the initiative to say anything. Maybe having Idris will help with that. Ginny's always been fascinated by dragons; she loves it when Charlie comes home with his hundreds of stories and useless facts. I think it's a bit dull, really."

"How is home? Everyone...okay?" Sirius felt it was a stupid question but Ron evidently knew what Sirius was really asking. How have they taken it? Have they hassled you about your sexuality?

"It's been alright. It was awkward at first with the family. And I still haven't spoken to Charlie and Bill. They haven't been back yet. But Harry was right, I should have known. He told me that my family would love me no matter what." Ron sighed. "It's worse in school. My year, and some of the other Gryffindors, know. Some of them don't care because they didn't really know me anyway. Some of the smaller kids whisper and point. That bothered me at first, but I'm used to it. Seamus is the one who hasn't taken it well. I think he's scared of me, which is weird considering how close he and Dean are. I mean they used to..." he paused and coloured. "I don't think that you need to know that actually!"

Sirius couldn't help laughing. "Probably not, you're right. Can you call the others? This is just about done."

Ginny and Harry came in practically glowing and even Hermione had a smile on her face. "He's very sweet," she confessed to Sirius as they ate.

Sirius had bought a cake while he was out. "To celebrate your visit," he told them when he brought it over. "Chocolate with walnuts."

Harry cut five slices. "Well you did say you needed help with the decorating. It's not exactly a social call. Did you get paint?"

Sirius indicated with his thumb over his shoulder to where the tins were stacked by the kitchen door. "Yup, we can start tomorrow."

"What colour is it?" Harry asked him.

Sirius couldn't suppress his smile. "It's the colour of sunlight on naked skin," he said.

Hermione blushed, ducking her head and clearly hoping that nobody was looking at her.

"That's very poetic, slightly pornographic and completely unhelpful," Harry concluded. "Whose skin?"

Hermione nearly choked on her juice.

"I just meant that it's peach," Sirius explained. "I think it's called Terracotta Foster's Pink..."

"Well why didn't you say that then?" Harry asked.

"Would you have been any the wiser from that description as from mine?" Sirius asked in reply.

"No," Harry admitted with a smile. "But at least my friends wouldn't have thought that I have such a perverted godfather."

Sirius swatted the top of Harry's head with his palm. "Watch it, young man. There are lots of things that I could tell them about you..."

"Okay, okay, point taken!"

Sirius laughed along with Harry, glad to still have this alliance with his godson. Harry was so easy to love, with his awkward kindness and insecurity but determined hope. Harry still thought of Plas Isaf as coming home: that was clear from the simple relaxation that could be seen on his features, and this fact still had the power to fill Sirius with a comfortable, satisfied warmth. Maybe there was hope for the future, maybe the world really wasn't as bad a place as he had always thought.

It was funny that it was often at the dinner table that he had these thoughts. Maybe it was looking around at the faces of the children - not children anymore - bathed in the golden glow of the lamps, good food on the table, a secure roof over their heads, and smiles on their faces.

Yes, maybe the world was a good place, and he had just been overly exposed to the negative sides. Maybe he could make his future happier than his past had been.

***

Hermione was still sitting with her book on the sofa in the living room when the other three decided to go to bed. It had been a long journey, Harry had said in their defence, and travelling was tiring. All around her were piles of dustsheets ready for the painting the next day, and her knees were drawn up under her chin in the small space of cushion that was left.

Sirius stood looking at her. "Are you going up, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'd better." She got to her feet and padded across to where he stood. "I could have killed you earlier with your comment about naked skin! I thought that we were going to be discreet?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I know, I'm sorry. It was just too easy to resist. I'll keep my hormones in check from now on."

"Okay, you'd better." The threat made her voice low and husky and he could help but pull her into his arms, knowing that it was proving his words a lie. She was the one who kissed him, however, her arms twining around his neck, her body stretching up on tiptoes to reach his height, and Sirius knew that it would be very, very difficult to stay away from her for the rest of the visit. He melted instantly on her touch, her now familiar lips against his, and he tightened his arms around her, his fingers coiling in her bushy hair as his lips parted.

A sudden noise made them spring apart and whirl around.

Harry was standing in the doorway.