Lost and Found

Chapter 5 - Dawn

Harry... are you listening? I know you are. I bet you're happy up there. You're with Sirius now.

And Ron, you... you jerk. I should've played chess with you more. You can't know...

But I can't do anything now.

People keep saying you're happier wherever you are. A few of them sent nice, teary poems. But... you know. All of those people didn't know you. They don't know you're gone. They just... sort of read it in a newspaper. So they'll give their condolences and 'feel bad for me' because I was so close to you...

They don't know anything.

And I don't want to be here, listening to them 'give thanks for your sacrifice'. It hurts.

Dumbledore's eyes... shut away, cool, detached as he told her he knew what she was feeling...

The funeral she never went to. The celebration where she cried. Their birthdays when she tried not to remember, but always ended at the graves, staring and unable to comprehend...

"Hermione?"

Someone was shaking her.

"Sorry. You awake?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. He was still there.

"Oh," she said, a kind of relief taking her. "You weren't a dream."

Sirius smirked, but she knew he was still trying to sort through things. "No. Not a dream. You won't be able to get rid of me now."

Hermione smiled. "Whatever made you think I wanted to get rid of you?" She turned to the window and blinked. "Well, would you look at that? It's clearing up a bit."

The storm clouds had gone now, replaced by a few pleasant bits of fluff. The only rain was a slight shower, a remainder of the two day maelstrom that had once been.

"You know," she said, almost happy, "I think I'm actually hungry."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That's good - we may have had problems if only one of us was."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You mean the one of us that can't cook a decent meal."

He snorted, but didn't deny it. Rats were somewhat lacking in cooking potential.

"Well then," she said brusquely, standing up and waiting for the rush of blood to her head to clear. "What shall we have for breakfast? Anything in particular you want?"

Sirius shook his head, smiling. "Never thought I'd get asked that particular question. Really, some eggs and bacon sound wonderful just about now."

Hermione made a sound of amusement. "That's good. Because you're helping, you realize?"

Sirius blinked. "What? But I've never made-"

"I don't have house elves here," Hermione sniffed. "You're just going to have to learn to do without enslaving a species to your daily whims."

He rolled his eyes. "Still on about that, are you?" And regretted it as he realized she probably hadn't been for a while now. Sirius winced, waiting for the sharp retort-

"Bah. Arthur Weasley took care of that a long time ago. They've got pay if they want it now - you can guess how many of them take it." At his shocked expression, she managed to laugh. "There were a lot of changes in how magical creatures were viewed after the war. Not the least of which was changing the blasted terminology from 'creature' to 'being'." She made a face. "Honestly, what were they thinking, calling everything non-wizard a creature-"

"When are we starting?" Sirius interrupted her.

She stopped, her face taking on a blank expression, as though to say starting what?

"Breakfast," he said, answering the unspoken question.

Hermione's mouth shaped itself into an 'o'. "Right now, I suppose. It's not like there's anything else that needs to be done right this moment." She pursed her lips, however, and frowned. "Although..."

"Although?" he prompted her.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I never really eat breakfast. I'll have to go get some groceries, I think."

Sirius froze at these words, but she laughed at him. "Really, it's been nineteen years. No one's going to recognize you, I swear it."

The man's brow furrowed worriedly. "Well, be that as it may, it might be better if I transformed-"

"None of that," she told him with a twinkle in her eyes. "Come normal. Enjoy your freedom. Honestly, after all that time being locked up, you choose now to get cautious..."

Sirius caught her eyes grimly. "You do remember what my last reckless action resulted in?"

She frowned at him, partially for being dense and partially for bringing up the subject yet again. Hermione sighed.

"Don't worry. I'll pass you off as a visitor. Mind you, I don't have many, but Prof- Remus does come down from time to time."

Sirius' face lit up instantly. "Moony? You get to see him, still? When-"

Hermione winced. "Oh good lord, can we just do one thing at a time? Breakfast! Then you can have your reunion." She tried to quash the little flutter of fear that had come with his excitement. It was stupid to think it, even, but... what if he left her all alone again, if he went away with his best friend...

No. That wasn't her decision to make, in any case.

Hermione pulled her mind back to the matter at hand, eying his robes critically. "Speaking of visits... I have a set of muggle clothes I keep for him when he does come. You'd be surprised how much robes stand out in a muggle community."

Sirius grinned at her, now in very high spirits compared to his previously subdued humor. "I think you'd be surprised at a few things I know about."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I'm sure you'll want to tell me all about the hundred and one ways to get yourself nearly expelled at some point."

The wizard sighed theatrically. "Put a bit of faith in me, please? Where do you keep the clothes?"

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The sight of Sirius in muggle clothing wasn't quite as disturbing as it ought to have been, Hermione thought wryly.

While the t-shirt was a bit oversized and the slacks seemed just a bit too 'Lupin-esque', he looked as though he almost belonged in them. A strange thought for a pure-blood.

"You have done this before," she said

He shrugged in an overly casual way, but she could see him trying not to smile. "I suppose Harry never told you about how I used to stay at James' house during summers. After the point where he and Lily hooked up, I got dragged to every baseball game, every movie..." There. He'd said his name. That wasn't so hard. Except for the moment of excruciating pain that flickered across his face.

Hermione gave a rather forced chuckle as she tried to imagine him at fifteen, sitting rather sullenly to the side while the other two made lovey-dovey eyes at each other. Sirius seemed to guess what she was thinking of; his expression turned sour, but he didn't say anything more.

"I suppose we should get a move-on if we want to eat before this becomes lunch," she told him with a smile, picking up those dratted keys she'd thought she'd lost. Hermione opened the door and stepped outside into the almost pleasant chill day.

Sirius eyed her cautiously for a moment, but reluctantly followed her. She took notice of the slight trepidation that overcame him as he stepped outside. His body stiffened, while his eyes dilated ever so slightly and his fists twitched as though wanting to clench. Sirius Black, she realized, was afraid of going outside as himself!

"Really," she whispered, almost awed. "Really, it's okay. Pardoned, remember?"

He tried to give her a winning smile, but failed utterly.

Her mind began to work furiously. Years in Azkaban, barely seeing light... coming out only at peril to his soul, hiding constantly from dementors, never knowing if he'd be recognized in the next instant by some poor muggle that had happened to watch the news...

It was entirely possible that he'd developed a phobia.

Well, she thought as her lips thinned to a line, we're just going to have to change that.

And before he could react, she reached her hand over to him and closed her fingers over his wrist, making him stumble forward from the timid steps he had been taking (Timid? Timid? Since when had Sirius Black ever been timid?). At his shocked expression, which seemed similar to something someone's face would wear if you'd jumped out in full Deatheater regalia yelling 'Boo!', she stepped past him and closed the door behind him, locking it deftly.

"And there's no going back," she told him pleasantly, slipping her arm through his and veritably dragging him from her driveway and onto the sidewalk. Sirius seemed to think otherwise - his face was screwed up in an amusing look of concentration as he debated the chances of his being able to transform and run before she could hex him into next week.

Hermione tried very hard not to laugh, and stolidly pulled him along.

The neighborhood was ridiculously small compared to London - it couldn't have possibly held more than five hundred people. And while it was certainly no middle-of-nowhere village, having very fine houses and perfectly manicured lawns, it still gave off a certain atmosphere of... country life. Non-intrusive, relaxed, and distinctly familiar.

It was something Hermione was almost certain Sirius hadn't felt before. And, for the first time in her life, she was suffused with a warm pride in her town.

Apparently embarrassed by his prior show of nerves, Sirius cleared his throat uneasily. "We're going to the one just down the street? By the small parking lot?"

Hermione blinked, then realized that he'd been wandering before. "Oh. Yes," she confirmed. "There's not really another one, actually..."

He seemed to regain his confidence at this. "Oh. Of course." His lips turned slightly downward, though.

Well. There went that pride. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed by his casual disdain.

He's Black. Remember?

Well, it couldn't be helped. Admittedly, he must have had relatively few memories other than his early years, including his whole upbringing. And really, most of his other traits were quite admirable.

She chanced a glance at him and frowned slightly.

It was the beard she couldn't stand.

Hermione silently vowed to none-too-subtly buy him a razor.

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"Ah, Hermione! It's good to see you again - we were beginning to think you'd finally gone and bricked up your door forever!"

Hermione turned to regard the cashier with a smile. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

The man chuckled. "You're just that bad, yes." The bell at the door rang, just then, and he turned to look at his other visitor, surprised.

There was a short silence. Then-

"Well!"

He beamed at her.

Hermione felt a chill go down her spine. He wouldn't-

"Finally, you've gone and found your common sense again! This one's much better than the other one, must say, and closer to your age-"

Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands.

Sirius only looked relieved that the man hadn't screamed at his entrance. "Hermione?" he asked her. "Who is this?"

She fixed her eyes on an imaginary heaven and mouthed 'why me?' before answering, "Prott. Owner of the corner grocery store."

The wizard turned to fix a curious gaze on the man, who had in turn stopped his excited talking to size up the other.

He wasn't anything spectacular, certainly. The man seemed to be in his fifties, at the least - his ragged brown hair was graying and even coming off in patches. But his face held multiple laugh lines that gave him a kind of mischievous air for his age (for all that he seemed to want to cultivate a dignified impression.

"Honored to meet you," Sirius said politely while Hermione anxiously watched Prott for any sign of a marriage proposal on her behalf.

"Oh, wonderful!" the man said with a smile. "He's courteous too, hey?"

Hermione decided to conveniently misplace herself in one of the aisles.