Lost and Found

Chapter 14 - Mistletoe

Two days until Christmas.

Hermione realized this as she watched him whisk the dishes clean with her wand.

She'd have to begin her shopping in earnest if she wanted to get anything done at all. Because she'd have to get presents for the Weasleys and for Lupin and, of course, Sirius. The amusing thought struck her that maybe she should get Malfoy something, just for the pleasure of knowing he'd be floored. And... well, she wasn't all that certain who got him presents for Christmas. Everyone deserved something, it would be rude not to. Yes, she'd get him something small. Too bad she wouldn't be able to see his face as he checked it for hexes...

The fact remained, however, that she was going to have to actually go out to get these things.

"Sirius," she said as he finished banishing the dishes to their respective cupboards, "I'm going to have to go out today, I think. Do you think you could manage for a bit on your own?"

He chuckled. "Someone's got a low opinion of me. Think I'm going to start a fire or something?"

Hermione pretended to size him up. "Hmm... I don't know. Maybe it would be safe if I took my wand with me..."

Sirius frowned and flicked it to her. "Yes, well, I'll just have to make do with some matches then." He winked at her as she left, and she felt her heart do a little flip.

Damn... crush is back, I suppose, she thought unhappily as she went to the fire and got a handful of floo powder. I thought I'd quashed it...

Stupid hormones.

"Diagon Alley," Hermione said clearly, throwing the powder down.

"Come back soon, dear!" came his singsong voice through the floo.

Hermione wondered momentarily whether it might be worth it to go back and clobber him. Then decided she was blushing too much and that she'd pretend she hadn't heard him at all.

Being spit out into the alley, she dusted herself off, shivering at the bitter winter air, and sighed at the large crowd before her. Unfortunate. But then, Christmas was just around the corner...

Hermione rolled up her sleeves and plunged in. Elbows hit her, people swore, pets hissed, feet were stepped on... a ginger haired witch tsked at her as she wedged her way through her and another man, while the brown-haired man looked her over appraisingly. She blinked, unused to such treatment, and immediately continued on before he could ask for the equivalent of her wizarding number (she'd never been asked before, but she was sure there was something to that effect).

By the time she'd reached her destination, Hermione felt bruises appearing in her sides. She rubbed at them unhappily, but squeezed into the small building without a problem - no one was really very keen to go there, anyway, as it wasn't a shop.

She smiled as she looked around the dusty office. The secretary seemed to be out - no surprise there - but she was very sure she would find the person she was looking for here...

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Her business didn't take long to finish, but she was sure that when she left she was positively glowing. Success had always done that to her - and this was one of the first things she'd succeeded in that really meant anything at all in a very long time.

Going back into the crowd sent a shiver of trepidation through her, but Hermione ignored it and made her way to another shop, to get Lupin a set of nice dress robes - she was quite sure that he wouldn't have bought any for himself in a while, and while Arthur Weasley's revisions to the laws that discriminated against magical creatures helped things quite a bit, werewolves would always have a stigma on them no matter what the law claimed. Hermione hadn't heard from him for a while, but she was fairly certain it would still be hard for him to get a job.

She bit her lip as she thought of the time she'd asked him to live with her. His look had said it all... I'm not a pity case, I'm an adult, and you of all people should know that. But really, he should have known that she'd wanted him to stay for her own selfish reasons. Because Lupin, being the ultimately calm and gentle person he was, could break her from her habits of grieving while he was there.

Much like Sirius.

But where Lupin had been an older role model, Sirius was stirring up her life simply because he wasn't like that. He was... her age, strangely. And he was impulsive and brash and he did things because they felt good. In short, everything she wasn't, but had always wished she could be.

Hermione frowned as she shoved her way into a shop to the side - Flourish and Blotts, it looked like. Books were strewn all over - stacks rose from table to ceiling, and stairs from one side ran up to another floor which held even more. All in all, this had to be her favorite store.

Thoughts of Lupin also brought thoughts of the inevitable, though. Sirius would be wanting to see his best friend - he would be wanting to get somewhere to live on his own. Because, while he was not like Lupin in many respects, he was the kind of person to want his privacy and his own life. And who wouldn't?

That particular thought troubled her much, much more than she wanted to admit to herself. And the fact remained that she felt guilty every time she thought of Lupin - he would want to know, and she kept telling herself she would tell him, but something always seemed to get in the way...

Hermione banished this thought to be picked through later as she picked up a few things - Quidditch books, mostly, for one could never go wrong with those when shopping for the Weasleys. Another book went on top of the stack for Sirius, and she smiled at the thought of seeing his face as he read the title. Then, her eye caught on one of the other books...

Bound in green leather, a dull golden cord wrapped loosely about it. It had no title...

Hermione picked it up curiously and unwrapped it, opening it to the first page.

Blank.

She frowned, then turned the page. Nothing. And more nothing. What-

Oh. It must have been a journal.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before tossing it, too, on top of the pile. She wasn't sure why she should want it - she'd never kept a journal in her life, unless her homework planner counted. As she took it unobtrusively to the front, however, the cashier, an older man with graying hair and a lined face, looked at it in surprise.

"I think you've accidentally put your own book up here," he told her, handing it back to her.

She blinked. "Oh no- I found this in the shop. I was going to buy it."

The cashier shook his head. "We don't stock journals, miss. Perhaps someone left it here-?"

"But there's nothing written in it yet," she told him. "Are you certain this isn't from your shop?"

The man looked affronted. "Of course I'm sure! Keep it if you want, but I'm telling you that I've never seen it in my life!"

She assured him that she understood, of course, but once she was out of the shop, Hermione had to stop and stare at the book.

No name, no writing. Why would it be in the shop if not to be bought?

Hermione shook her head and put it into her bag, determined to enjoy herself regardless. She still had robes to pick up, and just maybe she could buy herself something nice to wear while she was at it...

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Coming home was a revelation.

Because, as she came in through the floo, she found that there were two people in her house, and not one.

"I don't know, do you think this one-"

"No, that one seems a bit large, I think it would fall off of the top."

"I'm sure I could find some way to get it to stay on..."

Hermione groaned and tried to quietly slink down the hall to her room. There was no way she was going to put up with this now. She was tired and she had packages to wrap.

The question remained - why was Prott in her house?

With a sigh to herself, Hermione flicked her wand and ordered the packages wrapped, absently pulling the new journal from the bag before it could wrap itself as well. She flipped through it for a bit before pulling out one of her new quills and popping the stopper from one of her ink bottles. Setting it open on the desk, Hermione dipped the quill in the dark green ink, trying to think of what she'd write in a journal.

Not one to mince words, even with an inanimate object, she scratched the date and began:

Christmas is coming soon - I'm not sure if I got everyone the right presents, but I did my best. The Weasleys should be getting theirs soon, since I sent them out by the public post. I even got Bill and Charlie something, though my knowledge regarding their interests is sketchy, at best.

Nothing else came to her immediately, so she blew gently on the ink, then closed the book and bound it again with the cord.

The voices in the living room had quieted down, so she figured it would be safe to go out again.

Hermione snuck from her room, then looked into the room.

Sirius was sitting below a very large Christmas tree (decorated in red and gold, naturally) holding a very large tree star in his hand and staring at the window. Hermione felt something inside her leap happily as she saw the house. Candles burned quietly on each flat surface, red and green - a fire burned merrily in the hearth and she was surprised to see at least three presents set beneath the tree. The chess board had been set up again, and the pieces seemed to be standing strangely still, though a few fidgeted every once in a while.

"You guys can move again, he's gone," Sirius told them with a twitch of a smile.

They immediately deflated, rolling shoulders and cracking necks, getting comfortable again.

He leant back against the wall, putting his hands behind his head and relaxing for the moment. A gentle smile appeared on her face as she saw him so unconcerned - for just a moment, she found she could imagine, with their surroundings, that they were really in the Gryffindor common room. That he and she were really just normal students and that things had all turned out as they were meant to.

Then, she noticed that he'd undone his tie, that it was hanging loosely around his neck, and that the top few buttons on his shirt were undone.

A furious blush rose on her cheeks as she thought of a few things she certainly would never have imagined in her sixth year...

Sirius fidgeted with the star a bit, squinting as he held it up to see how it would look on top of the tree.

Hermione couldn't help it. She giggled.

His head snapped around immediately - and he choked as he saw her.

Sirius tried to leap to his feet and subsequently failed, slipping and falling before he could make it to any sort of dignified position, then fumbling madly with his shirt and tie.

Hermione had to keep laughing, helpless.

He sighed, letting the tie go and apparently citing it as a hopeless cause.

"Well!" he said cheerily. "Welcome back. Like it?"

She was still laughing. In fact, she had to fall to the couch to continue to do so.

Sirius threw his arms into the air. "Well. Now that I've made a complete fool of myself." But he was winking at her. "At least I'm good for a laugh, then."

She felt something inexplicably giddy overcome her at the warm look he gave her, all unfortunate thoughts fleeing her at his smile. "Yes," she said. "You certainly are." And rose to her feet, looking around. "It's..." Amazing. Wonderful. You're wonderful. "I can't even begin!" she said happily. No one has ever done something like this for me. And I know he must be bored, but still-!

Sirius seemed very much pleased at her reaction. "Wonderful," he said. He was looking at her with the expression of rapture one can only attain after giving a gift and receiving unadulterated happiness in return.

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It hadn't taken too much work, really. And the fellow, Prott - he'd helped a great deal. Sirius had to admit that without him, he wouldn't have been able to get her his other surprise...

"Well," he said, trying to sound as though she hadn't just made his heart want to burst with pride. "I did want to ask if I could borrow your wand for a bit of work." Hermione didn't seem in any mood to refuse such a little thing, and she handed it to him. The moment her hand touched his, he felt the oddest urge to grab it and kiss it, and maybe to kiss her as well. Yes, a nice long kiss. And maybe-

"Sirius?" she asked him, stifling the remainder of her giggles.

He coughed. "Oh, yes. Well - watch!"

Sirius moved the wand in an arc, taking the star from the floor and sending it to the top of the tree - where it hung, absolutely still, without so much as bending the top branch.

Hermione's smile was brilliant. He was sure her face must be aching from joy.

Sirius handed her wand back to her, then walked to her, putting a hand over her eyes. "Just wait and keep your eyes closed," he told her. "Best is yet to come."

She laughed again, and put her own hand over his, pulling it off. "I've got my eyes closed, I swear," she told him. "Go ahead."

He went quickly to the kitchen, pulling the confections Prott had helped him with out of the refrigerator and setting them on the coffee table. He grinned to himself as he took one from the pile - and touched it to her mouth.

"What-" Hermione opened her eyes incredulously - then saw the chocolate strawberry.

Her eyes lit up.

"You're amazing," she told him, speechless. "I love you."

It was said in the way one friend talks to another when that friend has just bought them chocolate strawberries, but he treasured it all the same.

"How did you manage-"

"Prott," Sirius answered. "He brought over the strawberries and the decorations - you can't honestly believe I have the know-how to make those things."

She laughed. "No, I don't suppose you do. But it's all wonderful!" And then, she did something he certainly hadn't been expecting - she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly and enthusiastically. He staggered, but managed to hug her back, reveling in the smell of her hair, the way his arms fit into her so perfectly, and the way he could feel the joy radiating off of her.

Sirius could have groaned.

He'd discovered something, quite suddenly, and it was so impossible that he wanted to delight in it and drown in it and push it away incredulously all at the same time.

He was in love.

And, what was so much better (or worse, depending on your view), her eyes were dancing and alive and looking at him as though he had just informed her she'd won one of those muggle contests for a million pounds or Euros or whatever they were using these days.

And then - Hermione blinked and looked up, to the tree they were currently standing below.

Her eyes focused on something on a certain branch... and a helpless chuckle shook her tiny frame.

"Was that Prott's idea too?" she asked him, holding up one hand to point to a small branch of leaves and berries that had been used to decorate the tree. At first, Sirius was slightly annoyed at the fact that she had let go of him at all - but then he realized the significance of the decoration and decided it really wasn't so bad after all.

Sirius paused. Then looked back at her and shrugged. "Yes," he told her, and grinned wickedly. "Doesn't mean I can't take advantage of it, does it?"

At her gasp of indignant laughter, he slid his hand up behind her head and pulled her in quickly, perhaps a little more desperately than he'd intended, sealing her lips against his sharply. And this time, it was him drawing the tip of his tongue through the slight indentation where her lips met, and it was her that was gasping in surprise and delight. He nipped at her bottom lip briefly, and took complete advantage.

Bliss.

Pure bliss.

And she was... she was responding. Almost shyly touching her tongue to his, sending shudders of pleasure through him as he gripped her closer, wanting her to say it again, but wanting her to mean it this time. And it would be so easy, just three words and he knew his heart would burst.

But, of course, she was currently otherwise occupied.

The kiss went on - his head twisted almost of its own accord, deepening it and lengthening it, making it ever better. Hermione, for her part, certainly didn't seem to mind as she became just a little more bold, biting down gently on his top lip and drawing her teeth down pleasurably. Something that sounded suspiciously like a growl escaped him, and he realized that air was, at some point, going to be a necessity.

Only then, with a willpower that had to be the stuff of legend, did he break away, breathing hard.

Hermione's eyes were still closed, her face flushed delightfully, her lips bruised just a little, and her hair wonderfully tussled. She swallowed and opened her eyes to look up at him, and her irises sparkled happily.

"That," she managed, "was some Christmas kiss. Especially considering we've still got a day before Christmas Eve."

A little pang of disappointment went through him, but hell, he'd take what he could get.

Sirius forced a laugh, and found it wasn't nearly as hard as he'd thought, especially as he'd just finished a wonderful liplock that he knew he would remember for years to come. "Somehow," he told her, letting her go reluctantly, "I doubt that anyone will ever be able to top that."

And she- she tweaked his nose.

"No, they most certainly won't," she told him with a little giddy laugh. "But I'm still going to have to pretend to be mad at him."

Sirius sat down and watched as she took a long, lingering bite of one of the chocolate strawberries and found himself unconsciously licking his lips.

Mmh.

He hoped Prott had hidden more mistletoe somewhere around here. If not, he might have to steal that wand and summon some.

"Hey!" squeaked one of the chessmen. "Are we playing or not?"

Hermione put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. "Yes, I suppose we are."

Sirius immediately brightened. Because bets were fair game in chess. And he knew what he was going to be trying for.

And now, he had more incentive to win than ever before.