Love is a Battlefield

Dedication: This one is for my two wonderful betas, Kellie and Melissa D.

* * * * *

Saturday, August 2, 2008

England, UK

Hermione rose quietly in the early hours of the morning and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She often awoke while the darkness still fell outside; she was always able to think best when she was alone in the peace and quiet.

She’d not gotten a decent sleep that night; between Harry and April, it was a wonder she wasn’t insane. As she poured her coffee in the dark with only the tip of her wand to guide her, she reflected on her secret admission: she was in love with her best friend. Her roommate. The man who’d been with her every step of the way for the last 17 years.

"Nox," she whispered, allowing the light to dim and her eyes to adjust to the dark. She perched herself on a stool and sipped her coffee, pondering how she was going to take the next step. Telling Harry she was in love with him would be one of the hardest moves she ever made. But Hermione felt she had no choice – she couldn’t hide it from him anymore. She didn’t want to hide it from him – or anyone else. Now that she had admitted it to herself, it was clear what she had to do. She had to tell him, and hope against hope that he felt the same way.

Besides, she reflected, he didn’t appear to be disinterested. He’d never pulled away from her. He’d initiated the three kisses they’d shared. Hermione smiled to herself as she realised she’d been keeping count.

And if she was completely honest with herself, no man had ever made her feel quite the way Harry did – like her insides had melted completely into mush. All he had to do was look at her, and her heart almost stopped. That was the kind of love one read in a fairy tale, where the princess finds her prince and they live happily ever after.

However, Hermione wasn’t naïve enough to believe that real life worked like that. But she truly believed that if the feeling was mutual, they had a real chance at making a relationship work. They already had a head start – they had no secrets from each other. No skeletons in the closet. They knew each other so well that words weren’t necessary.

"Good morning," a gentle voice said from the doorway. Hermione quickly turned her head to find Harry standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The sun had begun to rise, and the first rays of the dawn came in through the skylight, allowing Hermione to see that he was already dressed. Obviously, he’d woken early too.

"Good morning," she replied, smiling slightly. Harry walked over to her and put his hand on her back, leaning over her and placing a soft kiss on the side of her head.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Not too badly. I had trouble at first, but finally dropped off." She tried to make light of it, but knew she wasn’t fooling either of them. Harry rubbed her back gently for a moment, then drifted over to make himself a coffee before joining her at the breakfast bar. They sat silently for a long moment, facing each other. Both of them were wanting to say the same thing, but neither knew how to say it.

Taking a deep breath, Harry finally spoke. "We really need to talk."

Hermione nodded and put her coffee mug down. "Yes, we do." She hesitated, biting her lip in the way that made Harry want to kiss her senseless. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. "I’m sorry about how I reacted last night," Hermione ventured.

"It wasn’t your fault, Hermione. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"It just threw me, that’s all. She was the last person I expected to see after all this time."

Harry tilted his head slightly to study her profile. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was…nervous. She was fidgeting – something Hermione only did if she was either so excited about something that she was dying to tell everyone about it, or so nervous about something that she didn’t know where to start. Somehow, he thought it was the latter.

He reached across and placed one hand over both of hers to keep them still. "I know you weren’t expecting to see her. I told you, you don’t have to apologise. I understand. It threw me, too. After all this time…" He let the sentence trail off.

"Still, I’m bound to run into her again, so I can’t react like that every time or I’ll be a nervous wreck."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think you’ll run into her again?"

"Harry, she still works with Draco. We always see her when we’re at some fashion do for him."

Harry sighed. "Of course, Draco. I’d forgotten about that." They lapsed into silence again, the stillness of the day almost uncomfortable. Harry watched as Hermione picked up her mug again and drained the last of her coffee, then let go of her hand as she got up to put it in the sink.

Come on, Harry, the little voice at the back of his mind said. It’s not that hard…it’s just three words. I love you. You can say that to her – you’ve said it hundreds of times before. Okay, so the meaning is different now, but it’s still only three words.

Hermione climbed back onto the stool and gave Harry her full attention. "So what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

Taking strength in the warmth he saw in her chocolate brown eyes, he reached over and grabbed her hand again, this time lacing his fingers through hers. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"There’s something I need to tell you, Hermione. Something that could change everything between us." He watched her carefully for her reaction, but she gave nothing away. "I just want you to know before I say anything that I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, and…"

Hermione’s heart was beating furiously. Was Harry trying to tell her that he was in love with her?

"Harry," she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. "Just say it."

Harry turned his head to kiss her palm, then looked back at her. They slowly inched forward, like two magnets drawn irresistibly together. "Hermione, what I’m trying to say…" their lips were now barely centimetres apart. "…is that I’m in…"

Suddenly, a loud noise startled them, and they jumped apart, Hermione abruptly dropping her hand. A large brown owl circled over their heads before fluttering to the counter and patiently sticking out a leg. Harry quickly untangled the note, and the owl swooped up in a spiral motion and disappeared back out the window it had come in.

He tore open the note as Hermione watched anxiously. Who would be owling them at six o’clock in the morning?

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. Harry didn’t answer, and Hermione watched in horror as the blood drained from his face. "Harry?" She snatched the note off him, and read it quickly.

"Oh my God," she whispered. This couldn’t be happening. She stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him off the stool. "Let’s go."

* * * * *

Scotland, UK

When they arrived at St. Babbitt’s Hospital, they were directed to the intensive care ward. Harry seemed to have regained the power of speech in the time it took for them to Apparate there, and he strode up to the counter.

"I need to see a doctor about Sirius Black," he told the young mediwitch behind the counter, who seemed to be more interested in the copy of Witch Weekly she was perusing than helping him out.

"Your name and relationship to the patient, sir?" she asked in a tone which indicated she probably spent a great deal of her day saying that very thing.

"Harry Potter, godson."

At hearing his name, the mediwitch instantly jumped up out of her seat. "Oh my, Mr. Potter…I’m so terribly sorry. Please, do take a seat and the doctor will be right with you." She skirted around the various chairs littered behind the desk and took off down the corridor before Harry could respond. He examined the empty corridor for a moment, then turned to Hermione in frustration.

"Where are all the bloody doctors in this place?"

Hermione took his hand and led him to the waiting area, which was much more lavishly furnished than any Muggle hospital. Instead of plastic chairs, there were comfortable lounges and seats. A coffee machine was in one corner, with proper mugs. The entire area had been done in a pale yellow colour scheme, giving it the appearance of being bright and cheerful. Something most people sitting in waiting rooms did not feel.

They sank down onto a lounge, Hermione sitting close enough that their legs were touching. She weaved her fingers through his, and rested her head on his shoulder. This comforted Harry more than he would admit. Just her being there, where he could touch her and smell the faint scent of her perfume.

"The doctor will be here soon, Harry, and he will explain exactly what’s going on. We really shouldn’t panic until we know there’s something to panic about. Maybe Sirius has just had a minor accident." Harry knew that Hermione was just trying to help, but her words did nothing to assuage the feeling of dread that was seated deep in the pit of his stomach.

They sat together silently as they waited, both of them praying that Hermione’s words were correct, but neither of them really believing it.

"Mr. Potter?" They both stood to find the doctor standing in front of them. Only Hermione was wrong – it wasn’t a he, it was a she. The doctor looked to be fairly young – early twenties, in Hermione’s estimate. She had light brown hair that was cropped in a pixie cut and her eyes were a greenish-grey. She held her hand out, and Harry shook it. "I’m Dr. Kimberley McMillan."

Harry let go of her hand, and gestured to his left. "This is Hermione Granger." The women shook hands briefly.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, I wasn’t actually expecting you yet. Why don’t we take a seat?" Harry and Hermione returned to the lounge, and Dr. McMillan sat in the chair opposite them.

"Sirius Black Apparated in this morning complaining of chest pain, shortness of breath, nausea, and a burning sensation in his arms and shoulders. We admitted him immediately, because he displayed all the classic symptoms of a heart attack." She paused to let the information sink in.

Harry gasped in shock, and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Hermione reached out to grip his arm and needed to take a breath before she could talk.

"A heart attack? Oh my God…is he…I mean…" Hermione babbled incoherently. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she’d just heard.

"He’s stable, for now," Dr. McMillan continued gently. "It was a good thing he was able to gather enough energy to Apparate here. I’m willing to guess that he didn’t have the strength to make it to St Mungo’s. He’s very weak at the moment, but he seems to have responded to the potion we gave him, and is currently sleeping."

"How did this happen?" Harry croaked.

Dr. McMillan turned her gaze on him with sympathetic eyes. "I don’t know, Mr. Potter. But I can assure you that we’re keeping a very close eye on him. The minute we detect a change in his condition, you’ll be the first to know." She paused, as if reluctant to continue. "There is a matter of paperwork…"

"I’ll fill it out, whatever you need," Hermione said quickly.

"Can we see him?" Harry asked in a low voice.

Dr. McMillan looked at both of them for a moment. "Well, it’s really not allowed…"

"Please," Harry begged. "I need to see him."

"Okay," Dr. McMillan answered. "But only for fifteen minutes, all right?"

Harry nodded anxiously, and they silently got up. Hermione removed her grip from Harry’s arm and slid her hand into his. He gripped it with enough force to make her wince. She studied him as they trooped silently down the corridor, and could tell that he was frightened. She ran her thumb gently over the back of his hand as a sign of reassurance.

However, when they reached Sirius’ room, even Hermione could not stop the gasp that rose from the bottom of her throat. Sirius looked dead. His skin was so pale it nearly seemed translucent, and his black hair, which was stuck to his forehead in clumps, only served to enhance the paleness. His eyes were closed, and there was no movement whatsoever. The only sign that he was alive was the slight rising and falling of his chest. Unlike a Muggle hospital, there were no machines or wires hooked up to him; the room was surrounded by charms which alerted the medical personnel the minute anything changed.

"I’ll leave you alone with him. Dr. Granger, I’d appreciate it if you could do the paperwork before you leave the hospital." Dr. McMillan gave them a small smile and headed out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. Sirius was the lone patient in the room, which made it a bit easier for them.

Harry released Hermione’s hand and moved across the room to sit on the edge of Sirius’ bed. He took his hand and was shocked to find it was cold to the touch. He held Sirius’ hand between both of his and rubbed it gently, as if to coax warmth back into it.

Hermione picked up the chart hanging on the end of the bed, and flicked through it, scanning the notes, but they didn’t tell her anything. She stood back for a moment, then tentatively made her way around to the other side of the bed. Imitating Harry, she sat on the edge and wrapped her fingers around Sirius’ free hand. They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry trying to gather his thoughts, Hermione not wanting to interrupt the silence.

"Oh, Sirius," Harry finally whispered. "You silly old bugger…fancy going and having a heart attack. That was a bit stupid, wasn’t it?"

Hermione glanced over and was dismayed to see tears glistening behind Harry’s glasses. She wished she could find the words to comfort him, but there was nothing she could say, so she merely placed her hand gently on his back and rubbed in slow, small circles. He didn’t shrug her off, but didn’t respond either.

As the minutes ticked on, Hermione wanted so desperately to tell Harry that Sirius was going to be fine…but she didn’t know that. A heart attack was no laughing matter. Not for a long time had she felt so useless.

"Mr. Potter," the door swung open and Dr. McMillan stood there with a piece of parchment in her hand. "You’ve just had a special delivery from a Ministry owl," she said breathlessly, holding the parchment out. Harry reluctantly let go of Sirius’ hand and got up to take the paper from her hand, muttering a quiet thank you. She nodded, and disappeared again.

Harry unrolled it and quickly scanned it. "No," he breathed. "Not now!"

Hermione got off the bed and walked over to him. "What now?"

"The Ministry’s called me in. There’s been some Death Eaters sighted in Australia. They want me to lead a team there. I have to go immediately for briefing."

Hermione knew that Harry couldn’t say no. "Dammit," she swore. "Their timing sucks."

For the first time since they’d gotten the owl that morning, Harry gave her a rueful smile. "Understatement of the century." His gaze drifted back to Sirius. "I can’t leave him."

"It’s okay, I’ll stay here," Hermione offered instantly. "I’ll talk to the doctor, find out exactly what’s going on, then I’ll meet you back at the house. I want to shower and get changed so I can settle in here for the night."

Harry shuffled, looking down at the ground. "You don’t need to do that."

"Of course I do. He’s like a father to me too, you know. I won’t leave him, I promise. And the minute something happens, I’ll owl you. Come on, I’ll walk you out."

Harry studied her for a moment, then realised there was nothing else he could really do. He had to go to the Ministry, and he knew Hermione would let him know if anything happened.

He walked back to the bed, then watched Sirius breathe for a minute. Leaning over, he softly kissed his godfather’s forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "You concentrate on getting better, you hear? I’ll be back as soon as I can." Taking one last look, he turned and walked out the door, Hermione right behind him.

They found an empty corridor adjacent to Sirius’ room. "Listen, you go to the Ministry and find out what’s what. I’ll find Dr. McMillan and do all the paperwork and find out exactly where we go from here." Hermione gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and tried her best to smile. She was sure it wasn’t very convincing; she was just as scared of losing Sirius as he was.

He looked at her for the longest time, his eyes conveying a silent thank you. Suddenly, Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore, and as tears threatened to spill over her eyelids, she took a step forward and slid her arms around Harry’s waist, burying her face on his shoulder and hugging him tightly. His arms instantly went around her, and they took comfort from each other.

Very reluctantly, Harry released her and stepped back. "I have to go," he said softly. "I’ll be home as soon as I can." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then Disapparated.

Hermione watched the spot where he’d stood mere seconds before, then took a deep breath and wandered off to find Dr. McMillan.

* * * * *

An hour and a half hour later, Hermione arrived home. She was incredibly tired. After tracking down Dr. McMillan and discussing Sirius’ condition with her, she’d completed all the required paperwork, then had snuck in to see Sirius one last time.

"Harry?" Her voice echoed through the house, and the silence was almost deafening. A wave of fear that he’d already been and gone swept over her, and she took the steps two at a time and threw open his wardrobe doors. She breathed a sigh of relief as she noted all his clothes were still there, and his suitcase still tucked neatly in one corner. The briefing was obviously running longer than he’d anticipated.

She headed downstairs, more relieved than she was willing to admit that he hadn’t left without saying goodbye. As she made a cup of tea, she couldn’t help but curse the fact that they’d been interrupted that morning. She was sure that Harry was about to tell her that he was in love with her; she knew that she would have reciprocated in kind. For a moment, her thoughts drifted to what would have happened after that…he would’ve kissed her passionately, and they would have been so wrapped up in each other that the world outside them would have ceased to exist.

But now, with everything that had happened, Hermione knew that true confessions of undying love would be the last thing on Harry’s mind. In fact, it might be weeks before they got the chance to really talk again.

Sighing heavily, she took her tea into the lounge room and sank onto the couch, sipping the hot liquid and blowing gently to cool it.

* * * * *

It was another hour before Harry finally made it home. His agitation was clearly apparent, so Hermione wisely said nothing, preferring to wait until Harry was ready to explain. She followed him to his bedroom and sat on the bed as he threw his suitcase on the bed, and haphazardly tossed clothes randomly in the general vicinity of the case. Hermione carefully picked up each item and packed them neatly.

"Long briefing, huh?" Hermione ventured cautiously as Harry growled in frustration at not being able to find something.

"I could be gone for a couple of months," he spat out as he came out of the wardrobe with a pair of shoes in hand.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she unsuccessfully attempted to hide her shock. "A couple of months? What? Why?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, which looked like it had already been subjected to such treatment many times that day, and pushed the case into the middle of the bed, sitting in its place. "The Ministry has received information that there is a group of Death Eaters who are based in Sydney that seem to be becoming quite powerful. They’ve gotten the word out that Voldemort is still alive, and have managed to convince quite a few wizards that if they don’t join their side, Voldemort will crush them when he arises again. They claim it’s all a matter of time."

"But I thought the Ministry believed Voldemort was dead?"

"Most of them do. But a few loyal to Dumbledore are taking it seriously, and fortunately, they’re the ones who can pull this together." He gave Hermione a lopsided smile. "Or unfortunately, depending on your point of view."

Hermione smiled back. "What did Percy say?"

Harry made a face. "He sat there and nodded, then tried to make out it was his idea in the first place, but everyone knows he thinks Voldemort is dead. He just doesn’t want to risk being wrong. It was his brilliant idea that we go as Muggles though."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a confused look on her face. "Muggles?"

"We can’t Apparate in. Percy thinks they’ll be anticipating Ministry intervention, so they will have cast the appropriate spells to detect us if we Apparate. We have to fly there, and stay at a hotel like Muggles. ‘Fit in and mingle’, he said." Harry shook his head and tried to keep the disgust out of his voice. They both liked Percy, but knew he wasn’t the right material for the Minister’s job.

"How long’s it going to take for you to get there?"

"About 23 hours."

"Ouch." Hermione frowned in dismay. "Does this mean I can’t owl you?"

Harry nodded. "And I can’t owl you. They don’t want to risk our being detected."

Hermione’s face fell. "How will I be able to keep you up to date about Sirius then?"

Harry sat up straight, looking over her shoulder to focus on the wall. "You can’t," he replied quietly.

Hermione felt saddened at the tone in his voice. "Oh, Harry," she said softly. "I’m sorry." She knew how this had to be killing him – the last place he wanted to be at the moment was on the other side of the world.

Harry eventually shifted his gaze back to hers, and they looked silently at each other. Suddenly, Harry tore his eyes away from hers and stood, shutting the suitcase and heaving it off the bed.

"I have to get back to the Ministry. My flight leaves tonight and we still have some work to go over." He waved his wand over the case and it rose in the air, following him dutifully as he made his way to the foyer. Hermione walked behind him silently, dreading what was to come. As she watched the back of his head, it occurred to her that Harry could potentially be walking into danger. What if the Death Eaters got to him? An irrational thought went through her mind – what if this was the last time she ever saw him? An involuntary sob rose in her throat which she barely managed to suppress.

He seemed to have the same thought, because as Harry got to the bottom of the stairs, he put the suitcase down and turned to Hermione, who was now on the bottom step. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly against him. She immediately wound her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely, not wanting to let him go. Ever.

Hermione wouldn’t remember later how long she was in his arms; she would just remember the sensation of his heart beating against her chest, of the warmth that radiated through her from his touch. She would remember the feel of his hair against her fingers as they made lazy circles on the back of his neck. She would remember the smell of his aftershave, and how the familiar scent soothed her.

But the thing she would remember most was how he pulled back slightly and tilted her chin up, then pressed his lips gently against hers. She would remember how she instantly responded by pressing back firmly, causing him to deepen it almost immediately.

She would remember how she wanted that moment to go on forever; how her heartbeat accelerated, and her mind became dizzy. The feel of his mouth on hers, so soft and sweet and … magical. If she’d ever had any doubts that she was in love with Harry, he’d just eliminated them with a single kiss.

But then he’d pulled away, taken a step back, and picked up his case. Hermione had watched him, her body still tingling all over from his touch. He’d gone to Disapparate, but stopped.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

Harry smiled. "I love you."

Before Hermione had the chance to respond, he was gone.

* * * * *

Hermione finally managed to regain her faculties, and returned to the hospital, where she engaged in a thorough conversation with Dr. McMillan about Sirius’ condition and follow up treatment.

Hermione learned that the doctor wanted to keep him in for at least a week, possibly two, and she felt it best that he have a full time carer for another 4-6 weeks after that. Dr. McMillan explained that Sirius seemed to be responding well thus far, and if he made it through the night with no problems, she was confident that he would pull through.

Hermione was overjoyed to hear that, and vowed to take Sirius home with her when he was ready to leave the hospital. She made a mental note to talk to Elias on Monday and organise to work from home for the next couple of months. She realised that would make things a bit more difficult for her, but that way she could keep a close eye on Sirius, and still be able to keep up to date with work as well. She would allow Tabitha to act as Team Leader in her absence, confident in Tabitha’s abilities to be unconcerned about Hermione not being in the office.

After much convincing from Dr. McMillan, Hermione reluctantly headed home to get some sleep, checking in on Sirius once more and vowing to return first thing the next morning. She also made Dr. McMillan promise to owl if there was any change whatsoever to his condition, no matter what the time was. Once she was reassured on all fronts, she went home, happy with the news, but sad that Harry wasn’t there to share it with her.

* * * * *

"Welcome to British Airways, how may I help you?" The attendant at the check in counter said brightly.

"I’d like to check in, please," Harry replied, sliding his ticket across the counter. It was almost 7pm, and he’d spent most of the day in a windowless, cramped room being subjected to Percy droning on and on about nothing. He’d tried to tune him out by thinking of other things, but that only led to thoughts of Hermione and Sirius, and that didn’t help him relax any.

The attendant took both the ticket and passport proffered, and checked the details at the back of the passport. EVANS, JAMES. DOB 19 SEP 1981. She examined the photo, then glanced at the man standing in front of her. Obviously the same person.

"Just the one piece of luggage, sir?"

Harry nodded and placed the suitcase on the scale. The attendant put the appropriate tags on, and hoisted it onto the conveyor belt.

She then punched in his details, and handed his passport and a boarding pass back to him. "You’ll be in row 3, seat A, Mr. Evans. If you’d like to make your way to gate 39, you’ll be able to board the plane in approximately half an hour. Have a safe flight to Sydney, and thank you for travelling on British Airways."

Harry smiled and took the documents from her. "Thank you." He tucked both into the inside pocket of his coat, and made his way to the gate for boarding.

* * * * *

When Hermione arrived at the hospital the next morning, she was not alone. Ron had insisted on accompanying her the minute he and Kellie had found out what had happened. Hermione had been exhausted when she got back from the hospital, but wanted to let them in on the day’s events, so she’d wandered over next door. They insisted she eat with them, and had listened in shocked silence as she explained. Because of her pregnancy, Kellie was unable to Apparate to the hospital, but had insisted Ron accompany Hermione.

Hermione reached the reception to find the same young mediwitch there as the day before.

"Can you please page Dr. McMillan for me?"

"Which patient is this regarding, ma’am?" Once again, she didn’t look up from her magazine, which now happened to be Magique, a gossipy magazine for young witches. If Hermione hadn’t been so worried about Sirius, she would have been most disturbed to find a winking Harry grinning at her from the cover.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Sirius Black. Can you please just page her?" The mediwitch’s head whipped up, a smile on her face, which faded immediately when she discovered that the man who was with Hermione was a red head.

"Okay, I’ll go find her for you," she said with a hint of regret. Slowly rising, she shuffled off along the corridor. Hermione tutted after her.

"It’s okay, Mione," Ron said soothingly, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. "The doctor promised she’d owl you if anything was wrong."

"I know, Ron," Hermione answered, squeezing back. "But with Harry gone…" She let her sentence trail off, the implications clear.

"Dr. Granger!" They both turned around to see Dr. McMillan striding down the corridor, a wide smile present. "There’s somebody who wants to see you."

Hermione gasped. "He’s awake?"

Dr. McMillan nodded. "He woke up half an hour ago. You must have just missed my owl." She eyed the new arrival, and Hermione did a quick introduction before turning on her heel and heading for Sirius’ room, Ron trying to keep up.

She pushed the door open to find Sirius propped up with several pillows behind his back. He turned his head towards the door. Hermione noted with relief that he looked a lot better than he had the previous day. Although still pale, his eyes seemed to have life back in them.

"Sirius!" She rushed over and sat herself on the bed, then gingerly put her arms around him, holding him as softly as she dared.

"It’s all right, Hermione. I won’t break." Hermione pulled back to see a small smile on Sirius’ face. She smiled and blinked back relieved tears.

"How are you feeling?"

"I’ve been better. Feel like I’ve been run over by a Gringotts cart." Hermione tried to smile again, but it came out as a frown. She carefully took his hand in hers.

"It’s such a relief to see you awake, Sirius. You have no idea how worried we’ve been," she said quietly, biting her lip.

"I can imagine." Sirius looked over Hermione’s shoulder and noticed for the first time that she wasn’t alone. "Hello, Ron."

Ron grinned. "Hi, Sirius. How are you doing?"

"I’m tired," Sirius admitted. "But the lovely young doctor in charge seems to think I’ll pull through with no serious aftereffects."

"That’s what she told me," Hermione said. "She wants you to stay here for the rest of the week, and I can bring you home on Friday if nothing else happens."

"Hermione, you don’t have to take me home. I know where I live, you know."

Hermione couldn’t help but be a little annoyed. Sirius could be so stubborn sometimes. Especially when it came to others worrying about him. He constantly shrugged off their concerns, not wanting to bother them.

"Sirius, you’re not going to your home," Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow. "You’re coming home to stay with Harry and me."

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. "Speaking of Harry, where is he?"

"Oh!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, cursing herself for not mentioning it before. "He’s on his way to Australia at the moment."

Sirius looked at her as if he thought he’d heard the wrong thing. "Australia?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded once, contemplating the merits of telling Sirius the whole truth. She knew he’d only worry about Harry walking into possible danger. "Ministry business. Long story." She diverted her gaze slightly so Sirius wouldn’t see the concern for Harry in her eyes.

"Make a point of telling me later. It’s not like I’ve anywhere to go at the moment." Sirius winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile. He appeared to be acting like nothing had happened, but she knew him well enough to realise it was just a mask for Ron’s benefit. Clearly, the heart attack had seriously shaken him. She could see the worry and fear in his eyes that betrayed the nonchalance he exuded.

"I will," she answered in a distracted voice.

The door swung open, and all heads turned when Dr. McMillan entered. "Sorry, folks, I’m going to have to kick you out. Mr. Black needs to have some potion, and I want to do a thorough check up."

"Oh," Hermione was a little disappointed. They’d only just arrived. Dr. McMillan seemed to sense this.

"You can return later, of course, Dr. Granger. I just need to get this done." Hermione nodded, then leaned over and kissed Sirius’ cheek. "I’ll come back later," she murmured. Sirius squeezed her hand, then released it as she stood. Accepting a brief embrace from Ron, he watched as they got to the doorway, and waved as Hermione turned back one last time.

* * * * *

Monday, August 4, 2008

Sydney, Australia

 

It was 9am by the time Harry arrived at the Radisson Plaza Hotel, where he was booked to stay for the duration of his trip. He checked in and registered, declining the offer of a porter, then made his way to the 9^th floor, where he found room 936 and made his way inside. He had to admit it was a nice hotel. The bedroom was neutral, with a soft coffee coloured quilt on the king-sized bed. A wide screen TV was tucked away in the cabinet and, after dropping his case, he inspected the bathroom.

It had a deep European tub, with a window directly above it. He opened the shutters to find one could watch the television from the bathtub. It had a separate shower with a huge nozzle, and the basin was modern with the white sink actually fixed atop the counter, rather than being part of it.

Harry was impressed. He’d seen a lot worse. He was surprised the Ministry had forked out for this – it couldn’t have been cheap. He was willing to bet Percy hadn’t picked it.

Returning to the main room, he unpacked his case, then kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. The rest of the team wasn’t due until later; for safety reasons, the Ministry had placed all four of them on separate flights. They were due to meet up tomorrow morning for breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

As his head rested on the pillow, he realised how tired he was. He couldn’t help but wonder how Sirius was. And how Hermione was coping … Hermione. He’d only been gone just over a day, but he missed her already. He sighed and succumbed to the sleep that had evaded him on the plane.

* * * * *

Friday August 8, 2008

England, UK

Hermione sank onto the lounge with a sigh. It had been a very long day. Because of Sirius’ weakened condition, they were not able to Apparate back to London in one go – they’d had to stop three times so he could rest. However, they’d eventually made it back, and Hermione had settled Sirius into the guest room after making a light supper of soup for him. With a grateful smile, he’d pretty much fallen asleep immediately.

Now, as he rested upstairs, Hermione was in the lounge room, her notes spread on the floor around her. She’d finished up at the office yesterday, and brought home all the files home she would need to be able to work from home for the next six weeks. As she’d anticipated, Elias was fine about her working from home, and Tabitha more than willing to take on greater responsibility at the office.

She looked over the work she’d pretty much neglected during the last week, but her thoughts kept drifting…to a certain male who was currently absconded on the other side of the world. She missed him terribly. He’d only been gone for six days, but that was six days too many, as far as she was concerned. The week had been taxing, and while she didn’t mind the twice daily visits to the hospital, or preparing the house for Sirius’ arrival, she wished Harry had been there to help her. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but still…her heart ached. Like a piece of it was missing.

Hermione absently rubbed her temples, willing the headache that was quickly building to go away. She needed to concentrate on the work in front of her. However, after 10 minutes of reading over the same sentence, she gave up. She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon the library that ran along the wall in front of her. As she stared at the hundreds of books that were arranged in alphabetical order – a task that had taken her three full days without magic – a thought began to form. She’d decided back in May to try and do some more research into the mysterious owner of PGW Industries. Maybe now was a good time to start.

As always, the thought of a challenge put a gleam in Hermione’s eye, and she pushed her notes away and jumped up, heading over to the bookcases with a determined look on her face.

* * * * *

Sydney, Australia

Harry checked his watch to find it was close to 10pm. He’d been tailing the two men for 14 hours now, and he was exhausted. However, he was under strict instructions not to allow any of the suspected Death Eaters on the list compiled by the Ministry out of his sight. If and when spotted, he was to tail them until he found evidence that either confirmed their involvement, or proved the opposite.

Harry wasn’t having any luck getting either yet. He had gotten a scenic tour of the city, however. They’d never stayed in one place longer than an hour. After first spotting the men down at Circular Quay, they’d led him on a merry chase that took him down to the Rocks, then doubled back to Martin Place, on to the Queen Victoria Building, Hyde Park, and Woolloomooloo Wharf, before ending up for dinner at Kings Cross, where they’d not been averse to taking a looksee at a few of the strip clubs. Harry had unobtrusively stayed in the background. He’d wondered with an amused grin what Hermione would make of him being in a strip club. Over the last six days, he’d thought of his best friend so often that he’d given up being surprised that his thoughts drifted to her, and merely accepted it. He had also constantly wished he’d been able to owl and find out how Sirius was, but he knew he couldn’t risk it.

However, eventually his suspects had had enough, and had moved on to Chinatown, which was where Harry currently sat, toying with a serving of fried rice. He sat two tables away in the corner – far enough to avoid detection, but close enough that he could hear them talking.

Except they weren’t saying anything. They simply sat, picking at the food they’d ordered. Harry wasn’t surprised that they weren’t able to eat, considering they’d stuffed themselves stupid while enjoying the entertainment earlier. In a way, they reminded him of Crabbe and Goyle.

"…because if we succeed, then the enemy will be eliminated, and we can progress to the next stage. How many times do I have to repeat it?" the darker of the two men hissed at his companion. Harry’s ears perked up, and he did his best to make it look like he wasn’t paying attention. He ran a hand through the brown hair that now adorned his head, thanks to a simple charm he’d picked up many years ago. Harry knew he was almost unrecognisable – with brown hair, blue eyes, and no scar, he looked completely different. Exactly what he was aiming for. He couldn’t risk being recognised.

"But I don’t understand," the fairer man whined. "How long will it be?"

"I don’t know. Stop asking questions." The two men fell silent again.

Harry felt a strange vibe around him. The air tingled with anticipation. It made him shiver – something was wrong. All of a sudden, both men gasped and clutched at their arms. The dark man quickly pushed his sleeve up. "We have to go. Come on." He threw a red $20 note onto the table and, with the fair man still grasping his arm, they fled.

Harry watched them leave, but didn’t follow. He’d witnessed all he needed to. Heading back to the hotel, he waited for the others to report in.

* * * * *

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

England, UK

Hermione placed the plate on the tray and waved her wand over it, then trotted upstairs to the guest room, where she found Sirius propped up in bed, waiting patiently.

"Hope you’re hungry," she said with a smile, gently floating the tray down to rest on the desk near the bed.

"Starving, actually. But I could have made my own dinner."

"Yes, you could have. But you didn’t. So stop whinging and eat," Hermione said pleasantly, placing the tray carefully on Sirius’ lap.

"Aren’t you going to join me?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"I had something before while I was working."

Sirius tucked into his bangers and mash – one of his favourite meals, as Hermione had remembered – and watched the woman he’d grown to love as a daughter as she focused her gaze on the sky outside the window. He wondered what she was thinking about - or more precisely, who she was thinking about. Over the last couple of weeks that he’d been staying with Hermione, he’d observed her quietly, and had noticed the way her manner changed surreptitiously when he mentioned Harry. Like she was afraid to mention him lest she give something away.

Sirius was canny enough to realise Hermione missed his godson without her saying it. He finished the mouthful of sausage, then quietly put down his fork.

"Hermione?"

Although his voice was soft, she still started slightly. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"

Sirius smiled. "I haven’t said anything yet. You’re a million miles away. Or at the very least, 10,000 miles away." He paused, waiting to see if she’d respond. She cocked her head as if to figure out what he meant, but they both knew she was aware of exactly what Sirius meant. "Thinking about Harry?" he asked lightly.

Hermione stared at him for such a long time that Sirius didn’t think she was going to answer him. "Would it be a bad thing if I was?" she answered in a voice that was so low it was almost a whisper.

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly and frowned. "No, honey, why would it be?"

"I don’t know." Her voice had a tinge of desperation to it, and she broke eye contact and bowed her head. Sirius moved the plate to the bedside table, then leaned forward, placing one finger gently under her chin and bringing her gaze back up so he could look at her. He was greatly dismayed to see tears welling up.

"Oh, Hermione, why are you crying, honey?"

Hermione swiped viciously at her eyes. "I’m not crying. I just …" She took a deep breath. "It’s hard to explain."

Sirius dropped his hand. He’d heard Harry say the exact same thing months earlier. Now it was clear to him that the feeling was mutual, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for both of them. They were clearly struggling with telling each other how they felt, but he knew it was easier said than done. On the other hand, a not so small part of him was thrilled – he loved them both dearly, and had thought for a long time that they would be very good for each other, though he would never have admitted that. To either of them. Maybe, Sirius reflected, now was the time.

"I don’t think so," he kept his tone neutral. "It seems to me that you’re in love with him." He reached out and placed a comforting hand on her cheek. "Am I right?"

Hermione hesitated, but couldn’t lie. Not to Sirius. She nodded slightly, and all the worry and anxiousness and fear of something happening to Harry finally came to a head, with her bursting into tears.

"Hermione…" He reached out and pulled her into his arms. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder while he patted her back. They sat like that until Hermione’s cries subsided into sighs, then silence. All the while, Sirius held her tightly.

Finally, Hermione pulled away. "I’m sorry," she said in a small voice, wiping her face.

"Don’t be." He took a tissue out of the box on the table and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes, and Sirius gave her a few seconds to compose herself. "Do you want to tell me why being in love with my godson is making you cry?"

Hermione took a few deep breaths, then said what had been dwelling at the back of her mind since she’d first had more than best friendly thoughts about Harry. "It’s just…hard. We’ve been friends for so long, Sirius. We know each other so well…there’s no secrets. No surprises. There’s no element of the unknown. No mystery. Everything would be so different. If we became involved romantically…what if he got sick of me, Sirius? What if he suddenly decided that he just wanted to be friends again? I couldn’t do that, Sirius…I couldn’t give him my heart to have him change his mind down the track. It would kill me." A slightly horrified look crossed her face when she realised she’d revealed more than she meant to.

Sirius, however, smiled at her and took her hand in his. "Hermione, I don’t think that’s something you’d ever have to worry about." He brushed a stray bit of hair from her face. "I’m quite sure that Harry would never change his mind. He loves you, completely. More than even he realises, I think." He watched as a myriad of emotions swept over her. He knew she wanted to believe his words, but he wasn’t sure that she did.

"How do you know?" She lowered her gaze again, and he could hear the element of doubt in her voice, and just as equally, the element of hope.

"I just do. I know Harry. He gives a lot more away than he thinks. It’s something I’ve sensed for a little while." He paused, wondering if he should say anything more, but thought Hermione needed to know. "He also might have said something," he added nonchalantly. Hermione’s head snapped up, and her warm brown eyes sought out his black ones.

"What did he say? When?"

If Hermione hadn’t sounded so frantic, Sirius would have laughed. "You need to ask him that, Hermione. It’s obvious the two of you need to talk. When is he due back?"

Hermione’s face fell, and she shook her head. "I don’t know. He said he could be gone for a few months. He wasn’t sure…and I can’t contact him. We just have to wait."

The mood had become rather melancholy somewhat quickly. "I’m sure he’ll be back soon." Sirius squeezed her hand once more, then stretched out on the bed. "Thank you for dinner."

Hermione saw that Sirius was tired, so she stood and gathered his plate, placing it back on the tray. "Sleep well." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then picked up the tray and carried it out.

Sirius watched her go, feeling a little saddened. He only hoped that upon Harry’s return, they would get a chance to work things out.

* * * * *

Tuesday, 26 August, 2008

Hermione glanced at the small clock that sat next to the photo frame she’d received from Ginny and Draco the previous Christmas. Ginny had found an old photo of Harry, Ron and Hermione taken the summer after their last year, so she’d had it enlarged and framed as a surprise. Hermione had been thrilled – she didn’t even remember it being taken. It was a Muggle photo, taken at the Burrow with a camera Hermione had brought with her to show Arthur.

Hermione saw that it was close to 8am. She was sitting in her study, having risen early and deciding to get a jumpstart on her work. If she finished the most pressing matters, she could spend the afternoon with Sirius. He was now mobile, and wanted to go for a walk around the block out in the sun. Hermione had promised to take him if she got her work done, so she was determined to complete it in time.

She glanced at the photo, then picked it up and sat back in her chair. She ran a finger over the frame. It was a great photo. They were all sitting on the back steps. Hermione was in the middle, Ron one step behind her, Harry one step in front. Hermione was resting her elbows on Ron’s legs, and he was leaning over her, his arms loosely around her. Harry was leaning back against her, and her hands were resting on his chest, his hands covering hers. They were all wearing big smiles. That had been an excellent summer, Hermione reflected fondly. They’d spent the entire summer together at the Burrow, then when the end of August had rolled around, they’d gone house hunting.

Hermione thought she heard a noise, and she put the photo down, cocking her head towards the open door. Maybe Sirius was awake. She listened for a few seconds, but heard nothing, so she shook her head and put the frame back, turning back to her work.

Then she heard his voice. "Hermione?"

She leapt out of her chair and leaned over the bannister. Harry was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Harry!" She flew down the stairs and threw herself into his outstretched arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and spun her around.

She laughed joyously as he held her tight, reluctantly putting her down, but not letting her go. Neither of them could really believe they were standing near each other after so long apart. "I wasn’t expecting you back for weeks!"

"Oh, shall I go again?" he asked with a smirk.

"Don’t you dare," she threatened. As she pulled back to look at him, her smile faded. His lip was swollen, and there was a small cut. "Oh my God," she breathed. "What happened to you?"

He gave her a rueful smile. "You won’t believe me."

"Try me."

"I walked into something." So that he wouldn’t have to tell her it was a fist, he changed the subject. "How’s Sirius?"

"He’s much better. He’s been for checkups, and Dr McMillan said she expects he’ll make a complete recovery. He’s able to get around slowly, with support. We’ve been walking around the block every day." She smiled at him and reached out to smooth a stray hair back behind his ear. She hadn’t realised exactly how much she’d missed him until now. "Come into the kitchen, I’ll fix your lip. Why didn’t you fix it?"

"I wasn’t allowed to use magic, remember?"

"Hmmm." She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. He sat himself on one of the stools as Hermione grabbed her wand. He parted his legs slightly so she could stand between them. Waving her wand gently over his face, she murmured a few words under her breath, and Harry felt the swelling die down instantly, and the cut seal itself. He moved his jaw a few times.

"How does it feel?" Hermione asked, putting her wand down on the counter.

"All better, I think. Thank you." He reached out and ran his fingertips down her cheek. "I’ve missed you," he said quietly.

Hermione looked into the familiar green eyes that hovered near hers. "I’ve missed you too." She slowly placed her hands on his thighs, and he lightly put his on her back, tracing up and down her spine gently with one hand. "Are you sure your lip is okay now?" she whispered.

Harry played along. "I think so. But maybe you should kiss it better, just to be sure." Hermione reached up and carefully removed his glasses, folding them and placing them on the bench, then turned back to Harry. They stared into each other’s eyes, speaking without words. Hermione leaned over and gently kissed the side of his mouth that had just moments ago been injured. She pulled back ever so slightly, then leaned in to kiss the spot again, but as she did, Harry moved his head, and their lips met properly.

It was a tentative kiss, them just savouring the fact they were in each other’s presence, having been apart for what they both felt like had been a lifetime. Hermione felt the now familiar rush of warmth caress her body gently, and she inched closer, desperate for more contact. They pulled apart slightly, their breathing shallow and their heartbeats racing. Hermione’s heart thumped painfully against her chest as she placed her hands on his face and pulled him back.

However, when their lips met this time, there was no restraint. They kissed as if their lives depended on it. Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him as close as she could. Harry’s arms went around her waist, their bodies pressed together. Hermione felt like the entire room was on fire. Her skin burned and her head spun, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that the man she loved was home and safe and in her arms, and everything was right again with the world.

* * * * *

Sirius slowly made his way down the stairs, being careful to grip the railing tightly. He took his time, knowing he had to be careful. He wasn’t fully recovered, and he didn’t want to risk doing anything that would set back his progress.

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he noticed the case sitting against the wall near the door, and that there were muffled sounds coming from the kitchen. It took him a minute to place it, but realised that Harry was home, and must be in the kitchen with Hermione. And they obviously weren’t doing much talking.

With a grin, he shuffled over to the archway that separated the kitchen and the foyer, and was thrilled at the sight that greeted him. Harry and Hermione had their arms wrapped around each other, and were kissing with a passion he’d only ever seen once before. He was instantly reminded of James and Lily. They’d been the same when they’d thought they were alone.

He thought about alerting them to his presence, but decided against letting them know he’d seen them. So he wandered back to the stairs and climbed onto the first one, then turned around to give the illusion he was just descending them, and called out. "Harry? Is that you?"

He heard them pull apart, and Harry appeared moments later, a huge grin on his face. Sirius thought he could detect Harry panting slightly.

"Sirius!" His godson almost bowled him over, placing his arms around him and embracing him. Sirius returned the hug, relieved beyond belief that Harry was home safe and sound. "How are you feeling?" Harry asked once he’d let go.

"A lot better now you’re home safe and sound. And I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one," he quipped, winking at Hermione. She coloured and gave him a shy smile. Harry put an arm around him and helped him into the lounge room, where he got him settled. Hermione went to put the kettle on, then made the tea and went back so she, too, could hear all about Harry’s trip.

* * * * *

An hour later, Harry had finally finished giving them the details, and answering questions about Sydney. Hermione had bitten her lip so many times that she was surprised it wasn’t bleeding. Sitting on the couch next to Harry, facing him with her legs tucked up underneath her, she’d stayed mostly silent as Harry had described the encounters with the Death Eaters and how Percy had showed up unexpectedly to tell them they could go home. He’d Apparated in, ostensibly to meet with the Australian Minister of Magic, but in reality, to get a progress report. Although disturbed at having the Ministry’s suspicions confirmed, he’d allowed the team to go home, satisfied they’d done their jobs. Harry hadn’t argued.

Hermione had pretty much kept her gaze on Harry as he spoke, and was surprised to find that the face she knew as well as her own suddenly looked so unfamiliar. She was looking at him in a completely different light now, paying much more attention to detail than she had in the past. He really was very handsome, she decided.

She watched as he smothered a yawn. "Why don’t you go and get some sleep, Harry? You must be exhausted."

"I am," he admitted. Turning to her, he added, "Sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not. I’ve got work to catch up on anyway."

Harry nodded and looked at his godfather. "Is that okay with you, Sirius?"

"You don’t have to ask, Harry. In fact, I might go and lie down for a bit, too. It’s been an exciting morning." He gave them a half smile, but Hermione had noticed that he still tired easily, even now, almost a month after his attack. But Dr McMillan had said it would take months for Sirius to completely recover.

"I’ll walk you up then." Harry got up and held out an arm to Sirius, who grabbed it for support and pulled himself to his feet. Hermione followed them as they made their way to the stairs and slowly climbed them, Sirius placing one hand on the bannister and the other on Harry. They finally made it to his room, and Hermione stopped at the doorway, kissing Sirius on the cheek and allowing Harry to settle him in.

"I’m glad you’re home safely, Harry," Sirius said as he took off his slippers and robe. "I’ve missed you." He smiled. "So has Hermione," he said pointedly with a glance in her direction.

Harry chose to ignore the blatant hint. "I’ve missed you too. Now get some rest. We’ll talk some more later." He waited until Sirius was settled, then turned and walked out of the room, quietly shutting the door. Harry took Hermione’s hand as they made their way around to the other side of the floor.

"He’s still pretty weak," Harry said quietly, the concern evident in his voice.

"It will take time, Harry. It will be months before he’s completely recovered. But he’s doing well."

They stopped as they reached the door to Harry’s bedroom. Still clutching her hand, he turned to face her. He rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you for looking after him."

"You don’t need to thank me," she answered, raising her free hand and placing it gently on his cheek. "I’m so glad you’re home."

Harry smiled. "Me too."

Hermione smiled back, then brushed her lips against his. "Go get some sleep." Without waiting for an answer, she released his hand and walked into her study, closing the door. Harry stared at it for a moment, then retired to his room, collapsing on the bed.

* * * * *

Ginny arrived home that evening at around six to find Draco in the kitchen with dinner simmering on the stove. Dumping her albums on the lounge, she moseyed into the kitchen.

"Well, that was a complete and utter waste of my time," she offered in greeting, leaning up to kiss him hello.

"No new clients then, I take it?" Draco asked, trying not to grin.

"No. I don’t know what their story is, but I don’t think they even know if they want to get married. They couldn’t answer a single question. No date set. No location in mind. No idea what theme, what flowers, what colours they wanted. Nothing." Ginny grabbed the wooden spoon resting on the side of the stove, and dipped it into the pot, tasting a bit of the sauce. "Mmmm, good!" she proclaimed. "How long ‘til it’s ready?"

"About fifteen minutes."

"Excellent. Gives me enough time to jump in the shower and get changed." Kissing him once more, she disappeared towards the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she reappeared, looking refreshed.

"Feeling better?" Draco asked.

"Uh huh," Ginny grinned and wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back so she could look up at him. Draco placed his arms around her. "How was your day then?" she asked, nuzzling his neck.

"It was okay. Wrapped up the shoot for the winter catalogue."

Ginny pulled back to look at him. "Does this mean you’ve got time off?"

A sly grin spread over Draco’s face. "I’ve still got to tidy some things up with Michel, but I should be finished by Thursday. Which means I’ve got a couple of weeks off, barring any last minute things cropping up." He kissed her shoulder, then started to make his way up her neck. "How about we have a wild week away?"

"We had a few weeks away not long ago," Ginny reminded him. "I can’t leave the business again so soon. Especially if we want to go somewhere in November for our anniversary." Ginny and Draco celebrated their anniversary on November 19 every year by going away for a week together. They usually picked secluded places, so that they were, for the most part, undisturbed.

"We haven’t decided yet where we’re going this year, either," Draco said between kisses. "Any ideas?"

"Nope." Ginny moved her head to allow him better access. "Don’t care, really. As long as we’re together."

Draco stopped what he was doing and looked at her, then kissed her mouth soundly. They only pulled away when the pasta began to boil. Draco turned the heat down, then turned back to Ginny. "Nine years this year," he murmured, running his hand through her fiery red hair.

Ginny smiled. "I know, baby. Best nine years of my life." She kissed him once more, then slipped out of his embrace and grabbed some bowls so they could eat.

* * * * *

Jago sipped his tea, brooding. He’d made some furtive enquiries and had discovered that Hermione had recently resumed her research to try and find out his real identity.

He couldn’t keep up the pretence much longer. It was becoming more difficult to keep his identity from her. He’d always known he wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever, but he’d simply felt it necessary at the time to say nothing. Besides Elias, there was only one other person who knew he was Jago, someone he trusted implicitly. And he knew that someone would never betray his trust, but it also meant he could inadvertently drag them into the fray as well, since they, too, were a part of Hermione’s life.

Dammit, it was getting too complicated. The stakes were too high. Perhaps he should just come clean and hope that Hermione would forgive him for what he’d believed was a necessary deception.

But Hermione was someone he’d known for a long time. He believed he knew her well enough to know how she’d react.

He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again.

* * * * *

Thank you: to Kel and Melissa, for their insight and guidance on this chapter. Between the two of them, they picked up everything wrong with my chapter, and not only pointed the errors out, but made suggestions on how to fix them. The name of the Scottish hospital and the magazine the mediwitch is reading were Melissa’s idea.

Also, a very big thank you to each and every reader who takes the time to leave me a review. You have no idea how much I appreciate your feedback.

All new chapters for LIAB are first posted to the group where I am a list mum, PGW. You’ll also get cookies for the next chapter. If you’d like to be kept up to date with the progress of the story, then please feel free to join us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgw_industries/