Always Here

Harry put a re-assuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. Although she appreciated the gesture, she noticed that his hand was shaking as much as she expected hers would. She felt a bit of a cold, wet nudge under her hand, and looked down to see a big, black dog withits head on her knee, looking up at her with a concerned look on its face, if dogs can look concerned. She smiled at Sirius, and was immediately comforted by his presence.

"Harry, Hermione," Professor Dumbledore began once Hermione's breathing had returned to a normal rate, "I'd like to introduce to you Mr. Nicholas Porter and Miss Megan Grang-."

"NO!" the older girl shouted, speaking for the first time. Four heads snapped towards her, and Harry and Hermione were surprised to hear that she spoke with an accent that was most certainly American. "No!" she repeated, this time a bit less loudly. "I will NOT be Megan Granger, like I have been all of my life. Nick can be Nick Potter now, he doesn't have to be Nick PORTER anymore, like he used to be at our old school, and I refuse to be Megan Granger any longer. I. Am. Megan. Julia." Hermione could feel Sirius stiffening next to her. "Black."

Professor Dumbledore was staring at Megan wide-eyed, as if she had ruined a long-planned surprise party just moments before the guest of honor was about to arrive. Sirius, who had changed into his human form as Megan had been shouting, was looking at her with a strange mixture of sadness, tenderness, and irritation. Nick was simply gazing at her as though this were only to be expected around her, and Harry and Hermione were just staring, looking as completely and utterly confused and baffled as they could be. Hermione, though, soon began to catch on.

"So, if your - our - last name is...Black, then...my parents aren't - weren't - the Grangers, my parents are - our father is -?" She turned and looked at Sirius, the question on her face obvious. He nodded slowly. "So - so, I'm not Hermione Alyson Granger, I'm Hermione Alyson - Black?" Everyone in the room but Harry, who was still sitting on the bench, looking stupefied, nodded. "So, then - if my parents - or, at least, my father is a wizard, then I'm not really a -."

"Of course you're not a Mudblood!" Sirius exclaimed, spitting out the last word. "Though not to say that being the wizard child of two Muggles is terrible. I'm not one of those stuck-up, 'bloodline is everything' wizards. But you're not what Malfoy's been calling you all these years. You are, in fact, descended from two of the greatest and oldest wizarding families there are."

"So my - our - mother's a witch, then?" Hermione asked, then, looking at the expressions on Sirius', Megan's, Nick's, and Dumbledore's faces, pursed her lips in realization. "Oh. So my mum - my real mum, that is - she's passed on, isn't she?"

"Athena Sardis would have become one of the greatest witches the wizarding world has ever seen," Dumbledore stated calmly. "And as a student here," he continued with a grin, "she and Lily Evans caused approximately as much trouble as a certain band of ruffians known as the Marauders." He glanced devilishly at Sirius, who grinned ruefully back.

"Why do you think James and I loved them so much, Professor?" he asked. "They could pull off tricks even better than ours at times." He smiled, gazing off into the distance, remembering his days as a student at Hogwarts.

'Athena,' Hermione mused. 'Interesting that I'd give my owl my mum's name.' "So, my mum," Hermione interrupted. "When she died - I mean, was she - did she - was she murdered along with - along with Harry's parents?" She received four nods in reply. It was then that Harry seemed to come out of his shock-induced coma.

"So, Sirius, you're - Hermione's dad?" he asked his godfather. Sirius nodded. "Then how come you never - I mean, since I found out you were my godfather and all, you've always been, well, taking care of me, and you never really - well, you didn't - er..."

"Take care of Hermione in the same way?" Sirius supplied. Harry nodded. "You needed the help. You were essentially on your own, with no one to depend on but yourself. I needed to be there with you. Hermione - Hermione didn't need me. The Grangers are - were - wonderful parents, and they were there to completely and totally support her. Until quite recently, she didn't really need me. Though I suppose a child always needs his or her father," he added, looking shame-facedly at Nick and Harry.

"Speaking of my par- uh, the Grangers - why was I with them all my life?" Hermione asked.

Sirius grimaced. "I think to answer that, we're probably going to have to tell the whole story, starting at the beginning."

Dumbledore nodded. "Should we find a slightly more comfortable place to sit and tell the story," he asked brightly, seeming quite excited with the prospect of spending the evening and night (for it was already 5 PM) story telling. The rest of the company nodded in assent, and walked off towards Dumbledore's office, house-elves bearing dinner following shortly behind them. Situating themselves into the various comfy chairs and sofas in the office as the house-elves set up a table between them all upon which they placed the dinner, they eventually were settled.

After a long pause, which involved everyone making a close inspection of the tablecloth, the dinner, the faces of each of his or her companions, and the tablecloth again, Hermione spoke up. "Er, I'd like to hear the story, if that's all right," she ventured, making everyone start. The four who could tell it sighed and nodded their heads, as if resigning themselves to some cruel fate. Harry and Hermione looked at each other perplexedly.

"Well, if you want to be picky and all those sorts of nasty things that Hermione and Megan did not get from my side of the family, I suppose the story begins when James fell in love with Lily," Sirius began. It was in the beginning of fifth year, which is when I suppose most destined-for-each-other couples fall in love." Here Sirius inserted a pointed glance at Harry and Hermione, who, quite appropriately, blushed. "Anyway, he was absolutely smitten with her, and wanted more than anything to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him for a butterbeer. But the poor git was so smitten that he was actually nervous around her. The Famous James Potter, Womanizer Extraordinaire, was nervous around a girl. Remus and I had many a good laugh about that. But, to further the story, and not embarrass those who are no longer with us to defend themselves, he asked me for a favor. 'Sirius, if you ask her friend - I think her name is Amanda - then we can go on a double date. And it won't be nearly as nerve-wracking. Please, Sirius, please?' All right. Perhaps he didn't get down on his knees and beg, but he came rather close. Anyhow, he asked, and I agreed. So the next thing I knew, I was sitting in Hogsmeade talking to Athena, a girl whom I barely know, but whose company I was really beginning to enjoy, while she and I are making every effort not to turn our heads and look at our best friends, making absolute fools of themselves, by snogging like bunny rabbits." Here Harry and Nick choked on air, and flushed at the image of their parents acting like, well, like teenagers.

"To continue my story," Sirius said, glaring at his godsons, "by the time 'Thena and I had sat through this for an hour, we said good-bye, got up, and left to go back to Hogwarts. But I don't suppose we made it back any earlier than James and Lily did. We stopped at the big oak tree outside Honeyduke's to look at the moon, and then - well, the next thing I remember was the first best kiss of my life." They all looked puzzled. "Well, each and every kiss I shared with Athena was the best kiss of my life," he explained. They all nodded. "So, like I was saying, we started going steady, if you kids know what that means, and James and Lily started going steady. And we never really stopped. Athena and I got married a month after James and Lils, and then, we all started popping kids. Well, James and I weren't popping them, our wives were, and we didn't really pop that many - just you four - but it seemed like a lot at the time. Nick was born first, April 23^rd, 1985, and my first little pride and joy was born not even two months later - June 12^th. Give us two years and we've got two more - little Harry on July 30^th, and Hermione on September 19^th." He sighed, remembering.

"The eight of us were incredibly happy. Athena and I were Nick and Harry's godparents, and James and Lily were Megan and Hermione's. Nick and Megan were inseparable, as well. The siblings were about as tight as you can get, too. And, of course, being only toddlers and babies, you all couldn't say everyone's - or anyone's - names very well. I was Unca See-us, Athena was Auntie Tina, James was Unca Yamie, Lily was Auntie Wiwy, Nick was, well, Nick, Megan was...Megan, Harry was Hawwy, and Hermione was..." he paused a moment, trying to remember.

"Who-my-nee," Megan supplied, smiling.

"Ah, of course," Sirius said, nodding. "How could I forget the precise reason we began calling my younger daughter 'Who'?" he asked no one in particular.

"Actually, only I called her that. Everyone else - well, Nick and Harry - called her Who-my-nee. I believe all you grown-ups actually called her Hermione," Megan pointed out. Sirius nodded, then shook his head to clear it.

"So, things continued happily like that for about a year, while Voldemort continued gaining power. We made plans as to what would happen to you children if something happened to us. That was when we decided where you'd all go, if none of us were left. We'd often talked about sending Nick and Megan to school at Kirjava, the American magic school, for a while, so that seemed to be the perfect place to have arrangements for them. James and Lily were adamant when it came to wanting Harry to be with Lily's sister. Something tells me they wouldn't have made that decision if they'd known how their baby boy would have been treated. But that's beside the point. And so, for Hermione, we wanted her to stay in England, and, growing up, Lily's best friend had been Sherry Collins." Hermione gasped audibly at her mother's maiden name, or what she had believed, until just an hour or so ago, to be her mother's maiden name. Sirius turned and looked at her. "Eat your dinner, young lady," he reprimanded her suddenly, looking at her full, yet untouched plate of food. "You, too, Megan. And you, too, boys. I don't care how captivated you are by the story. So anyway, that's where we made arrangements for Hermione, with Sherry and her husband, to be brought up as their child. I was devastated when I heard they were killed. I've never met such wonderful people. Didn't you ever wonder why they weren't the least bit surprised when your letter came?" he asked his younger daughter. "Ever think 'Did they know that was coming?' They did.

"Anyway, so when it became clear Voldemort was on a destruction path to - well, to Godric's Hollow...well, I discussed this with you two and Ron in your third year. You know what happened, with my switching secret keeper status to Peter, and all that." Harry and Hermione nodded. "I left you girls and your mother with the Potters - I saw no need for you to be with me when Voldemort came to ask me for their hideout, like I was sure he would. Anyhow, I -."

"I think I should take over from here, Dad," Megan interrupted. "After all, I think you were pretty much, well, not there for the rest of it." Her father nodded, and gestured for her to go on. "Anyhow, so, we were all, well, just sitting around waiting, I guess. It had been a few days since we'd been strictly in hiding, and we -us kids, that is - were getting a bit restless. Nick threw a ball at a window, and it broke." The color in Nick's cheeks began to rise, as though she were telling the most humiliating story of his life, which, for all Harry and Hermione knew, she may very well have been. "Aunt Lily, who was just as strung out as any of us, flipped, to put it gently. She yelled, and screamed, and, in general, frightened the poor boy to death! Well, not quite to death, but you all know what I mean. Anyway, silly little Nick, worried his mother was really really horrifically mad at him - which she probably was, for about two hours - he, well, he -."

"I ran away," Nick finished, looking ashamed.

"Right. He ran away, and, well, I guess he - he found -."

"He found me," Sirius supplied, "and I decided I'd go take him out for ice cream and then put him on the next wizard ship to America with an explanatory note. I couldn't very well take him home - I didn't know where home was!"

"So anyway, while Nick was gone, our good friend Voldie showed up. The three of us were - were upstairs in the nursery." Her voice seemed to start to choke. Hermione could understand. If she had to repeat the story of her rude awakening only a few weeks earlier, she would probably be bawling. She respected her older sister - her older sister! How weird was that phrase? - for her control. "And, when Aunt Lily heard Mum - scream -." Here she paused to collect herself, which Nick seemed to assist her in by rubbing her back. " - She ran up to be with us. And when he came in, and - and k-k-killed her, I guess my - my big sister instincts just sort of - kicked in. I stood up and threw my arms in front of you two. Not that you both sat passively. Harry couldn't really get up, because I was standing on his foot, I believe, but Who - Hermione jumped up and threw her own tiny little baby arm out. So, the curse got us all in a line, I guess you could you say. My arm was all the way in front, covering Hermione, so -." She pushed aside the neckline to show a scar that matched Harry's on her right shoulder. "And Hermione's should be -."

"No. I don't have a scar," Hermione interrupted, suddenly deciding that she was not going to believe any more of this. It was absurd, really. Megan heaved a deep sigh and shook her head.

Picking up her sister's left hand, she replied, "Yes. You do. I don't know how the Grangers explained it, if they did at all. I don't know, but here it is." She turned Hermione's hand over, so her palm faced up. And right there, in the middle of her palm, was a small lightning bolt shape. Her eyes widened and her brows furrowed.

"But, but I got that from putting my hand through a glass door," she protested.

"Yes, Hermione, and I got mine from a car crash, that same car crash that killed my parents," Harry replied sarcastically.

"But then - wouldn't it hurt, like Harry's, when Voldemort's around?" she asked.

"Well, think about it, Miss Grang- Black," Professor Dumbledore suggested. "Perhaps it has, and you've just explained it away. Let's say Voldemort's somewhere nearby, which you know because Harry has remarked on his scar hurting. Therefore, you know that Harry - for whom you care deeply - may be in great peril. You begin to get nervous. Perhaps your palms sweat. And as the sweat gathers on your palms, you can feel that scar you've always had there stinging and twingeing and itching a bit. Of course, you think. Sweat would naturally make a scar itch and sting and twinge a bit. But perhaps it's not the sweat, Miss Black. Perhaps it's the presence of the Dark Lord."

Hermione still felt as though she didn't want to believe it, but such perfect logic couldn't be ignored. She nodded, agreeing with the well-thought out theory of her headmaster.

"So anyway, after that," continued Megan, "there's not much to tell, because-."

"No, 'Mione, that makes perfect sense!" exclaimed Harry, startling everyone at the table. "Remember how I told you that you kept grabbing at your hand while you were sick? Well, it was the same hand, and wouldn't that explain why?" Hermione nodded, now positive of her scar's origin. She began inspecting it carefully as her sister continued her narrative.

"So, there's not much to tell, because you all pretty much know what happened after that. Voldemort vanished, someone - I think it was Uncle Remus - came to get me to take me to Kirjava, where Nick already was, someone came to take Who to the Grangers, and Hagrid came to take Harry to the Dursley's. I'm fairly sure Harry and Hermione know where their stories go from there, as well as where Dad's story goes, and, well, Nick's and my story isn't terribly interesting. We lived at Kirjava as everyone's favorite little mischief-making children until we were old enough to start school, and then we went there first through sixth year. That is, of course, where we got our American accents. Californian, to be precise. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore says we need to be here this year, to be safe."

The mention of security snapped something into place in Hermione's mind. "Professor Dumbledore," she asked, "the 'he' and the 'she' that Voldemort asked about, were -."

"Megan and Sirius. Exactly. He would be looking for Nick, too, if he knew what he was doing, but he's not. Yet. That's why I'm keeping you all here until I'm sure you're safe. And that means no one's going anywhere at least until this year's over," he replied. Everyone nodded morosely, except Harry, who seemed to be lost, once again, in a trance. He looked rather upset about whatever he was pondering. "Is there something worrying you, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked. Harry's head snapped up.

"What? Oh, yes, actually. Well, not worrying, per se, but, well - Professor, so - I didn't defeat Voldemort on my own? It wasn't - wasn't just me? Hermione and Megan were - there, too?" The headmaster seemed to understand the problem and nodded sagely.

"No. You didn't defeat him on your own. Though I don't want you to think that means you're not as pow- well, actually, that's a topic I think we should leave for another night," he said, standing abruptly. Everyone started. "Come along, it's time for sleep. It's nearly 9:30," he stated quite fatherly, prompting the four teenagers to groan.

"Oh, hush," scolded Sirius. All four of you have had a long day, Hermione's sick, and mourning, and you four are of course going to talk plenty before you go to sleep. This is just the time that your headmaster and I need to sleep we've been up since two hours before dawn, working on - well, working on something. Anyway, come on everybody, and no whining!" He stood, shepherding the children to the door, where each was presented with a key.

"We don't have a password to get into the room you four will be staying in," Professor Dumbledore explained. "There are four beds, so you can all be together, to try to figure things out. I know that you two especially," he said, gesturing towards Hermione and Harry, "must be in a bit of a daze. So talk. Sirius, you'll be where you've been. And I'll see you at - oh, you four don't know where to go, do you?" They shook their heads. "Down the hall, take a left, then an immediate right, then a left at the end of the hall. It'll dead end at your room. Sleep well."

The teenagers responded to his greeting, then gave the same to Sirius. After they'd all taken a step down the hall, they paused, and then, throwing themselves around at the same time as if they were one, turned and ran to Sirius, each throwing his or her arms around the man. He smiled warmly, hugged them all back, then shooed them off to bed, saying that they needed to talk, and that he and Professor Dumbledore needed to converse.

The four teenagers headed down the hall, Nick and Megan leading the way, in deep conversation with each other. Harry and Hermione simply held hands and followed their older siblings, both two dazed to speak. As they rounded a corner, Hermione looked up at a very distressed-looking Harry, and, squeezing his hand, leaned up and gave him a quick kiss.

'Well, that got him to smile,' she thought quite smugly to herself as they entered the room.