Look at the Stars

It was still mid-morning when Hermione and Sirius arrived in Hogsmeade. "Ah, we have some time. How about heading over to the Three Broomsticks for a drink?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, some butterbeer would be really nice in this chilly weather," Hermione said.

Ten minutes later, they sat in a small booth in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, contentedly sipping on tall glasses of the warm, rich liquid.

"I still remember the first time I tasted this stuff! I thought there was no better feeling in the world," Sirius reminisced.

"Well, take care you don't get it all over yourself!" said Hermione, looking at the golden mess that had dripped down his chin. "And do you still think that?" she asked slyly, using her napkin to dab underneath his mouth.

Sirius smiled. "No," he said, slowly taking the napkin out of her hand. "I've found something better."

Hermione waited, expecting him to continue, but he suddenly changed the subject. "So do you remember your first butterbeer?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, "I thought it was like warm comfort in a glass. We were so excited that day, coming to Hogsmeade for the first time. Only Ron and I could go, Harry couldn't get his permission slip signed. Oh, and they had to protect him from you, you dangerous murderer!" she remembered, as they both burst into hearty laughter.

"And I remember," she continued, "how Ron and I felt a little guilty because it was so good. . . and, you know, Harry not being there. . . it's so odd, sitting here with you, I can remember just how I felt. It seems that feelings are never pure and unadulterated; all experiences are mixed with pleasure and pain. . ."

Sirius just listened to her, fascinated.

"Did you know that Ron and I hadn't been engaged long when he died?" Hermione suddenly said.

"Oh?" Sirius was unsure of what to say, so he just let her talk. She seemed at peace with revisiting her memories, but perhaps it was something she needed to do.

"Oh, no. You may remember how Ron and I always fought?"

"Yeah, and it was pretty obvious that you liked each other!"

"Obvious to everyone but us! Now, I knew I really loved him, but how was I supposed to express that? I guess we were just afraid that the other didn't feel the same way, that'd we'd get hurt and ruin the friendship.

"But the day before Ron left with Harry to fight Voldemort, he took me to a secluded spot out by the lake. I could only imagine that he wanted to warn me to be careful. He seemed so nervous. We sat down on this log, our feet nearly touching the water. And he turned to me and said, 'Mione, I may die tomorrow. And I don't want to die without telling you that I love you.' I was stunned, there was so much earnestness in his eyes. . ."

At this point, a few tears filled Hermione's own earnest brown eyes, and Sirius longed to kiss them away.

But Hermione wiped her eyes on the edge of her sleeve and continued. "I was stunned, and, for once, I couldn't say anything. Of course, I started crying," she said, smiling a little as her eyes still glistened, "and I threw my arms around his neck and said, 'Oh, Ron!' just like a lovestricken character in a cheap muggle romance novel.

"But Ron bravely kept on. He said, 'Mione, if I make it through this, will you marry me?' And I could only nod my head. And then he kissed me," she said, with a real smile at the memory. "For quite a while afterwards, actually. . ." she said, laughing.

"Even then, though, there was this shadow of danger lingering over everything. It was my greatest moment of happiness, and my greatest moment of pain. . . up to that point. I knew he was right. He could die tomorrow.

"When Harry came back alone, I knew. He came and held me, and we cried together. And he told me that just before they'd faced Voldemort, Ron had told him, 'If I don't make it out, Harry, make sure Hermione knows that I always loved her.' It was a strangely comforting thought," Hermione concluded.

Sirius had remained silent up to this point, able to do nothing but support her with his eyes as she shared herself. But finally, he said, "Do you think it would have been less painful if he'd never told you he loved you?"

Hermione thought for only a moment before she shook her head. "Oh, no. . .oh, it would have broken my heart, if he had died before I got to tell him that I loved him. To have never experienced the sharing of love. . . to have never been brave enough to risk losing something. . . that would have been the worst pain of all."

"Do you think," Sirius began cautiously, "that you could ever love again?"

Hermione nodded her head slowly. "It's scary, but I have to be brave. I'm a Gryffindor, after all," she smiled, "Yes, I could definitely love again. Because now I know what love is, and it's worth the risk."

Sirius gazed at her with an intensity she had often seen lately. "You are brave. You amaze me with your braveness. I can only hope to be half as strong as you, Hermione."

"Sirius. . . you survived twelve years of Azkaban, and kept your sanity! You lost your best friends and were blamed for it. You are the brave one, Sirius. You're the strong one."

Sirius looked at her hopelessly and wished he were brave enough to do what he wanted to do just then--kiss her--and strong enough to make her love him.

"Did you ever love anyone when you were younger, Sirius?"

"When I was younger? No. I think I was too selfish back then, too immature. I wasn't ready to commit myself to another person. . . I have to admit to myself now, it was all about Sirius, back then."

"And now?"

"Twelve years of Azkaban changes your viewpoint on those things."

"I would imagine so," said Hermione, taking another sip of her butterbeer and giving him a sympathetic look.

"Yes. . . things are different now," Sirius said a little desperately. "You know what love because you found it, if only for a moment. I know what it is, because no matter how strong I seem, no matter how independent, it's what I crave with every fiber of my being."

Now Hermione was the silent one as Sirius opened up his heart.

"In prison, I was literally starved for love, and then for five years after, I was cut off from society," Sirius continued, overcome with emotion. "I'm so grateful for my friends, Hermione. My friends. . . they're so important. . ." he trailed off, as Hermione squeezed his hand supportively in both her own.

My life has been painful for the last twenty years, he thought, but it doesn't have to be that way. Not anymore.