Lost and Found

Chapter 3 - The Remainder

Hermione herself was not a heavy drinker. She didn't like the feeling of not being in control, not knowing what you'd wake up having done in the morning. But she, like many people, knew that there were a few situations in which a drink not only highly comforting, but highly advisable.

This was one such time.

"I have some rum," she said to Sirius, rising to her feet. "I'll go get it, shall I?"

He didn't say anything. But he seemed to be looking at her again, gauging her as before. This Hermione, she's different, I can tell - something's happened -

"I'll take that as a yes," she muttered.

When she came back, he was looking at the chessboard. Hermione poured them each a nice, hefty glass and left the bottle, just in case. "Shall we set it up?" she asked mildly.

He put his head into one of his hands. "Yes. Yes, of course." And then, with remarkable recovery that spoke highly of denial, he laughed. "I will win this time, you realize."

She smiled, and felt something inside her spark. "Just like you won all the other times, of course." He had never once won. "But... I have been slightly out of practice. So you might."

Hermione gestured to the figures - their faces lit up with absolute delight at finally being used, and she almost felt pity for them. In moments, the board was filled. They had apparently decided to name her white this time.

"Exactly how out of practice?" Sirius asked, becoming more comfortable now with the normalcy of it all. For him it had only been a week or so, after all.

"Nineteen years," she told him.

He seemed to realize then that it had been a touchy subject. He didn't pursue it.

Hermione moved first, her queen's pawn, trying to remember precisely why she'd been so enamored of that particular opening move. It escaped her at the moment. There were certain patterns, certain ways and pieces that went with it...

He reacted, much more quickly than she'd thought, taking a few of the center squares for himself. She'd taught him that. Hold your position in the middle, and you've won.

"Hermione?" he asked, apparently trying to fit the name to the person. Well. At least she didn't have to prove anything.

"Yes, yes," she said. "I'm moving." And she did, protecting her queen's pawn with her knight. She remembered loving that move as well, just the sheer simplicity of protecting a piece with another piece that was also protected...

He made his move again, and something inside her sank. He'd just played her the other day, at her best. Her, she'd played him... but it had been much too long. Her next move was sluggish, almost, and she found she'd lost her touch for noticing when pieces were in trouble - he frowned as he ordered his own bishop to take one of her pieces, leaving her at a huge material disadvantage early on.

What had happened to the genius, he seemed to want to ask. What happened to her zest and her careful planning and her brilliance?

"Check," he told her.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to think what her best move would be. She didn't have many options. A pawn, when in doubt, move a pawn, but she couldn't because she was in check-

"Oh," she said quietly. "It's checkmate Sirius... remember?"

He looked away from the board. She'd thought he'd be ecstatic at winning... but apparently, it was an empty victory.

For a moment, she floundered. Familiar ground was wasted. How to connect to someone she hadn't known for years, had even mourned for...

A slow, determined smile inched its way across her face.

Because her brilliance was still there. She knew it. It was just buried, deep, because she would have to relearn.

"Again."

He looked up at her, blinking, as she waved her hand. The pieces reassembled themselves jubilantly, shaking each others' hands, and going back to their respective sides.

"This time," she told him, "will be different." She took a sip from her rum and noted that he did the same. It reassured her, warm and heady, and she felt her long disused mind coming back to her. Slowly, but surely.

"Pawn to d4." Queen's pawn.

He raised an eyebrow. "Pawn to d5." Another queen's pawn, to block her. Not always advisable, but then, he'd always been a bold player...

Her chess knowledge began to brush itself off. She remembered now. She'd always told him his defense was weak - he went charging after every little apparent opening - but he'd never listened. Even Hermione, with her now-limited amount of chess knowledge, could work with that.

Her pieces seemed to understand her thoughts. They eyed him as he made more and more daring moves, opening himself up to anyone who had the know-how.

When her white-squared bishop reached the middle, she found she knew where to go. She had never once lost once she'd reached that position, not even with Ron.

And though her follow-up was messy, stupid even, in some places, she was rather proud of herself when she moved to flick the sour-faced king over, to roll off the board and into the hand of a rather surprised-looking Sirius.

"Mate," she finished.

Sirius looked at the board, then at her face.

"Depressing," he grumbled. "All that time and I still lose..." He took a quick swig of the rum. "Was I really that awful a player?"

She laughed, a bit harder than she had to, possibly. "Well... not really. Just right now, though..." She pointed to a small corner of the board, where his king had been, guarded only by a queen who'd been able to do precisely nothing before. "Your defense was absolutely horrid. You always need at least two pawns..." Her thumb moved to her mouth, almost unknowingly, but he put a hand on hers and pulled it down.

"I remember you needing something to munch on all the time," he told her with a grin. "But shouldn't you get some carrot sticks or something instead of your oh-so-gallantly patched thumb?"

She blushed - then realized that he was, for lack of anything better in a strange situation, turning on his patented charm. How strange to be on the receiving end when she was actually old enough to appreciate it.

"I suppose so," she muttered. "Is this your way of saying you're hungry, Sirius?" He laughed disbelievingly and drew back as though hurt. In truth, he looked startled that she was actually bantering with him.

"Well, you know what they say," he joked, "Feed a dog for a day..."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from chuckling. "Good lord, do I really want to keep you, though? You are a rather disreputable dog, for all that you've been pardoned."

At this, he froze. She realized a moment later that she'd unwittingly broken the seal on the one topic they really shouldn't have been discussing just yet.

"Hermione..." he started. "You-"

"I'm going to get some carrot sticks," she said quickly. "And - and failing that, celery, even though I know you hate it."

When she made it to the fridge, she wasn't sure whether to let her head fall against it or shrug impotently. He was bound to find out some details eventually, and actually, she couldn't imagine leaving him hanging. It was... an impasse.

And as she looked for the carrots, she remembered something Professor- Remus had said to her once, right after everything went to hell.

"I wouldn't want to be the one to tell Sirius about... this. If he were alive, that is."

Her expression turned to a frown. Damn you, Lupin, you prophet. If I ever see you again-

You'll be overjoyed. Because I know I'll have him with me. Damn it.

She sighed. She couldn't use her excuse of carrots now. She had them out.

Oh well. There was always room for dressing.

And once she'd thoroughly procrastinated by pulling out the dressing and a plate and a nice little bowl to dip in, she had absolutely nothing left to excuse herself from going back.

She brought the dish out and nibbled on a carrot stick, ignoring his intense gaze.

"I'm free."

It was a statement, more than a question. She desperately wanted not to get his hopes up, for not only was he supposedly dead, many of the people he'd cared about most were gone.

But... "Yes," she told him quietly.

A shiver went through him at this, and she saw a strange look come into his eyes, as though he wanted to grab her and shout it to the world or something similar. She was certain he came close at one point, but his mouth shut before he could do so. His eyes closed for a moment while he composed himself.

"Another game, please?" he said, eyes still closed.

Hermione tsked. "I thought we were supposed to be forceful, Sirius."

He opened his eyes and she shuddered at the look he gave her. A pure and fervent relief that couldn't be expressed in words. Free was the closest thing to say, and it had been said. "Then play me again, or I'll-"

"What?" she asked ironically, leaning back into her chair with a smirk she didn't know she was capable of. "Turn me into a newt? I've got the wand. Yours is lost and god knows where it is now - though I'll fix that, eventually." He laughed and opened his mouth to retort, but she beat him to it with a warm giddiness she hadn't been aware of before. "But that will be when I tire of having you do dishes and being at my beck and call!" Rum. It had to be the rum.

Sirius' mouth split into a full grin now. "This is assuming I don't just steal it while you're sleeping. And I assure you, as a Marauder, I have much more creative punishments at my disposal."

Hermione made a face. "You've forgotten, I was one of the fantastic three. That's got to count for something." She pushed away the memories very easily this time. She was happy, damn it, and they couldn't ruin it.

He waved his hand, this time, and the pieces marched back into place. "Fine then," he said with a straight face that she was sure he was faking. "We play for keeps this time. The wand."

Hermione laughed. "Oh good. This will be fun." Her queen looked up to wink at her this time, nudging the bishop next to her and whispering something in his ear. He laughed at first, then coughed and took back up his pious position. Apparently, bishops weren't supposed to think like that.

"Oh," she said down to the queen. "And just what were you thinking?"

"That you should most certainly lose to this rascal," the piece called back loudly, though it was a mere squeak to her. "Seems like you'd have some fun with him!"

Hermione choked. "That-"

"-sounds like a good idea," Sirius answered promptly, winking at her. "I'd like to see what dances you can come up with after a tarantallegra curse."

She sniffed. "And I'd love to see how you'd look in pink."

He waved his hand. "Not happening today, 'Mione."

She blinked.

'Mione?

Well.

The board had to shift to let him go first this time. He smirked at her, and she quite suddenly felt discomfort take her.

What is he planning?

"Pawn to d4." His queen's pawn moved forward two spaces.

Her mouth fell open. You - bastard! I don't believe you! Because if she played her favorite queen's pawn in return...

She'd be playing a bold game.

What an awful, bloody, brilliant bastard he was. Even as she thought this, she got a very warm feeling in her chest. She was glad he was back.

"Fine," she muttered, and her thumb almost strayed to her mouth - but she realized just in time and went for a carrot stick instead.

She could counter more mildly, but he would just solidify his position in middle by bringing out the other pawn. God, she'd be in trouble then. And if he followed by protecting with a knight...

"Fine," she repeated, more loudly this time. "You'll regret that - mutt." He pretended not to hear her. "Pawn to e5." Her pawn saluted her before going in to die. Her queen twittered, waving at it as it went.

Sirius took her pawn, naturally. She frowned and bit into her carrot. She could work with this. Hopefully.

The e-file is open... I'll have to castle soon...

His next move was to develop his knight to protect the center from her. Hermione found that she really didn't like him when he played defensively. It was... uncanny.

She moved her pawn up, to simultaneously threaten and clear the way for her knight to also get out of the way. And, strangely, he moved his queen up.

What is he doing? She was probably playing badly. Well, good for him, because it had been too long for her to think rationally in this game.

"Move?" he asked annoyingly.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said, thinking he was really quite pesky when he set his mind to it. How had she not noticed before?

Hermione moved her right side pawn forward to protect her bishop - and swore, right after she took her hand from it.

That was it. That was what he was after. That drattedly unprotected side she always forgot about.

His queen moved to take her rook and she groaned.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I think we'll see if you're good at tango."

Bastard.

Looking to salvage her gaping mistake, Hermione moved her left side knight out of the way and made it protect her bishop (which, damn it, why hadn't she gotten that out earlier?).

This time, he frowned for a whole thirty seconds - then moved his queen to take her right side knight, when he was sure there were no tricks. Great. What do I do from here? This is looking like the shortest chess game in history...

Deciding to go with her original plan, Hermione castled. Sirius moved his queen out a bit, and the game progressed with interest.

At the point where she found she was nine points down in material, she realized she just might be doomed to dancing.

Sirius smiled at her discomfort. And well he should - she'd never seen such a brilliantly played defense.

And then, when the tables turned so utterly obviously, she decided to go out with a bang.

Aha! Her expression seemed to say, and suddenly he was not looking quite so confident.

Hermione moved her queen to take his bishop - a lock that had been there for a while - and pretended that it didn't bother her that her queen was about to die.

Sirius blinked.

And then... he paused.

She watched as his eyes flicked from piece to piece, to every possible angle she could counter from. His expression then turned puzzled. Because (and she knew this well) there was no visible reason for her action. It was stupid!

Bah. Figure that out if you can, Sirius Black.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he took her queen, shrugging as he did so, ready for her next move that would stun and astonish him and checkmate him.

But Hermione did no such move.

She instead moved her knight to take his pawn. And watched as it, too, got decimated.

Now her pieces seemed to be having fun, for all that they were being destroyed one by one. They charged the enemy blindly - and one even refused to die, despite the obvious fact that it was supposed to. Sirius gave it a frown and poked it - it shot him a superior look and collapsed into pieces.

And, finally, when he checkmated her, Hermione smiled complacently and handed him her wand.

"What on earth are you so smug about?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"What?" she asked innocently. "Weren't you going to make me dance?" Oh, he had to have seen through her expression by now.

Sirius sighed. "I should, you know. But I have this feeling I won't be getting a potion if I do..."

And.

He handed her wand back to her.

Hermione blinked.

"What?" he asked. And she could swear his expression now looked just like hers had.

"God," she muttered. "You win in every way."

He ruffled her hair like he had. "You betcha. But would it be too much to ask, at this point, for that medi-potion?"

She laughed helplessly and rose to walk to the attic once again.

.

.

.

.

.

The first thing she had to do was find the book. That was the first part of almost every process involving magic - find a book.

However... she couldn't quite remember which one it was.

Was it fifth year or sixth year... or did they maybe teach it fourth, because they wanted to have us ready early...

A voice came back to her, making her laugh unhappily. Constant vigilance!

No. It wasn't fourth year. If it had been fourth, she would have been able to help him...

"Something you're looking for?"

Hermione made a face.

"Yes, in fact. I can't remember what year medi-potions were. In fact, if I weren't so sure Dumbledore had insisted we learn them, I would suspect that Snape hadn't taught them. Can't see him really teaching us something non-lethal, after all..."

She blinked at the sudden silence and turned around to look at him. Sirius' face had turned to a scowl and she remembered belatedly that the two had had a rivalry. Before she could say anything to him, however, his face turned partially repentant. Because Snape could be dead, for all he knew, and you weren't supposed to hate the dead...

"He's still alive," Hermione said gently. "First Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to have lasted longer than a year in the longest time..."

Sirius relaxed at this, apparently feeling much better about hating Snape again. "Slimy haired git got his position, did he?"

Oh, Sirius, if you only knew what that slimy haired git did for your godson before the end...

"He's a good person..." At his scowl, she laughed. "Deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down inside. But it's there - you know he was spying for us, even though there was a good chance he'd been found out."

Sirius muttered something unhappy, but shook his head. "In any case, I would suggest you try this one..." He knelt down with a hand to his chest, reaching out for the book. Hermione moved to steady him and frowned.

"I could've found it, you know," she told him. "You and your... your not-staying-put!" Oh. Oops. Wrong thing to say.

At this, Sirius looked at her sharply. And she knew, even before he asked it, that he was going to say the one thing she couldn't let him. "Well look at that!" she interrupted. "It's in there! Why don't you go sit down for a bit while I find the ingredients..."

With that, she turned her back to him, rummaging here and there for some sage, some Avalon leaves...

He left after a moment, and she couldn't help but feel her heart pound just a little bit harder. Because maybe he'd caught a hint, and maybe he would start losing that utterly blissful denial soon...

The cauldron was, of course, the last thing on the list. It took a bit of moving, but eventually she managed to haul it down the stairs.

When she got to the living room, she noticed that Sirius was looking at her photo. She felt her mouth go dry, but didn't stop him. She knew he was looking at her in that photo, trying to fit her to the person before him. Because that Hermione was years closer to the one he knew. A less awkward Hermione, a less unhappy Hermione. Back when she knew it all, still.

For lack of a decent place to start a fire, she shrunk her cauldron and moved it on top of the stove. Ah, how strange - Snape would have gone apoplectic if he'd even suspected she would use such an improvised means to brew one of his beloved potions...

Hermione looked at the book, trying very hard not to be aware of the man in her living room who was lost and probably very alone and very... afraid? Afraid was an extreme word to use for Sirius. She had the hunch that he could never quite be frightened again, after the dementors. And yet, he was. Afraid of hearing that his godson was dead and that he would never see him again, except in those damningly cheerful photos that waved and smiled...

Ah. It's turned green. Clockwise, Hermione, clockwise.

She gave it a tasteful swish of the wand and heard a little pop. The potion was done.

Quickly, she poured a bit into a cup and took it out to him. He looked up at her once, eyes focused and intent, comparing and contrasting and trying to find little clues. She tried to smile.

Hermione went back after that and bottled the rest of the potion with frightening ease. Waste not, want not... but she was slipping back into the magic world, little by little. And she had the feeling that she was already too far in to stop.

When she came back, Sirius was staring into the cup with a look of careful distaste. "I always hated these things..." he muttered. "At least, I seem to remember doing so. Last time I had one was when I was at Hogwarts."

Hermione shrugged. "I always thought they were just a bit tangy, but maybe that's just me."

He snorted, but pulled the cup to his lips. In one quick swallow, it was gone, and his face took on an interestingly sour expression. "This is the overnight one, yes?" he asked her.

She laughed nervously. Because soon, there would be no more stalling, and there would be questions... "Well, I don't exactly have the ingredients for a one hour potion lying around, now do I? Some of those things are illegal to sell to someone like me..."

Sirius looked at her inquiringly. "And what exactly are you?" he said. "I would've expected you to be in the ministry by now, maybe even Assistant Minister."

Hermione sighed. No putting it off, was there?

"I'm sure," she said slowly, "that if I really tried, I could get a few of those things. War hero, and all..." His interest was immediately sparked, she could tell. Finally, his expression seemed to say, out with it. "...but I never trade on it. People don't like to be reminded, after all."

He was silent, and she shot him a look, both grateful and pitying at the same time. It would be so much harder if he asked her... but he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

So she started straight into it and tried not to lose herself in the memories again.

"Cornelius Fudge," she told him, "resigned from office the year directly after you... well, you disappeared. We were all told, of course, that it was impossible for anyone to come out from the veil, so we naturally thought that you were, um..."

"Dead," he finished, looking quite unhappy with this news, but having expected it from certain hints.

"Well, yes," she said lamely. "But I'm sure you can imagine... it took a while to get over it, and no one ever really did. I think sometimes that Dumbledore blamed - blames - himself. Because he'd just arrived, you see, and we all expect when he's there that nothing can really go wrong..." Sirius winced. She knew he respected Dumbledore quite a bit. And now, she knew that he was blaming himself for going after Harry. But it was such a delicate thing, deciding blame, and that hadn't even been the most important event during that time, so she tried not to concern herself with it. "So - so Fudge. Yes. He resigned. Because everyone knew that he'd screwed up when the first dark mark hit the sky."

"Who was it?" he asked on impulse, wanting - needing - to know.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "It- it's not important."

His face took on a suspicious look, but she ignored it and forged ahead. "In any case, Mr. Weasley took over for him - you remember how people were always trying to promote him - but he did a much better job, I should think. Organized everyone straight away, gave Dumbledore free reign, and pulled the aurors out of their semi-retirement and sic'd them at the people they could prove were death eaters. Moody was... delighted, of course."

"Of course," Sirius murmured.

"The aurors started keeping tabs on some of the better-known former death eaters, and they put different guards at Azkaban. I only really know a lot of this because of how close they kept me to a lot of it... even though... I didn't, um... stay at the headquarters a lot." She averted her eyes, wondering if he was aware of the reason. Oh, he probably was. Plenty of bad memories for Sirius Black to stay away from, after all. But did he know how to stay away from the good ones, the bittersweet ones?

"It went pretty badly, still, the first year. Voldemort had surprise on his side and we were still disorganized just from time constraints. The- the first month... we lost a lot of people."

Sirius wanted to ask something, she knew, something potentially painful by his look, but something he would need to know. "Anyone I knew?" he asked her quietly.

"No," she managed. "No one - no one you knew." Just Dean and Cho and Padma and Parvati- "After that..." she whispered. "Dumbledore opened Hogwarts to the students. During the summer."

Sirius leaned back into the couch with a hand at his temple, trying to absorb the information. And for a moment, just a flicker of a moment, she understood exactly what he was feeling. Just a day, to him, when things still looked hopeful, and suddenly he was bombarded with deaths and hurt and a whole war he felt he might have played a part in. His chance had been stolen from him.

"But," she said with a tiny sigh, "It got a little better after that. People began to band together. We had fewer... casualties..." the word was harsh from her tongue, "...because they started looking after one another. And," her face took on a savage look, "We managed to kill a few of the Deatheaters as time went by." Lucius Malfoy, his face forever frozen in that last sneer... But the memory was tainted, because she couldn't help but remember the boy in the corner, head in his hands, because Draco had lost the man he'd always looked up to...

It was amazing to her that he hadn't tried to kill them. It was the logical thing for him to do, after what they knew of him. But instead, he secluded himself from the war... she hadn't heard a thing about him since.

Maybe he'd become like her. Strange as the thought was.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked quietly.

She swallowed and found that it was hard to continue. But she did it anyway.

"Voldemort... he knew the war was getting bad. He decided to strike where it would hurt most. And..." Her voice choked. "He chose Hogwarts."

Sirius' hand found hers across the table, lending her quiet support, but she knew he would hate her. One way or another, she was responsible for what happened next.

"He attacked with the Imperious curse first... he took a few of the students and had them open the doors at night. Snape barely managed to let Dumbledore know in time. And... we were out, that night. Under the invisibility cloak."

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Potter. You can't fool the Dark Lord with such a thing as a cloak...

"They locked down the common rooms before they noticed," she whispered. "And you wouldn't believe it, would you... but Snape went out looking for us."

Shall I, my lord? I can hear them breathing...

Her hand tightened.

"They told me to run. Damn... damn Gryffindor heroics. They told me they'd be a distraction, that I had to go find help and all that. And I- I-" She let her head fall to her hand. "I believed them. When they said they wouldn't die."

The flash of green light. Running, screaming, anyone, anyone, come please- hoping they were okay, knowing it was improbable, but he was the Boy-Who-Lived and he'd live again, wouldn't he?

She couldn't continue. Not now.

And he knew the truth, so he could despise her all he wanted.

"Hermione..." Sirius managed hoarsely. "You-"

"I ran," she sobbed. "But I d-didn't find him until it was too late, and Snape told me to run too while he tried to s-salvage the s-situation-"

Damnit, girl, run! Or has that know-it-all brain finally blanked on you? Find the nearest portrait and tell them!

She was faintly aware of him rising and letting go of her hand. And she knew - all the chess in the world couldn't make it better again.

The door opened.

She heard him scream - something between a curse and a sob - and his fist hit the wall.

But the story hadn't ended there.

It couldn't.