Home Is Where the Heart Is

CHAPTER 1

It was getting late: the sun had gone down, and the reddish hue tints it had left were overcome by the impeding darkness. Hermione pushed her plate away from her with a sigh. "Thank you, Sirius, that was wonderful," she said. She groaned and got to her feet. "This is the only bad thing about not cooking; it means doing the washing up!"

"Just be grateful you can do it by magic," Sirius told her. "Those poor Muggles have to do it all by hand if they haven't got one of those washmachining things."

Hermione laughed. "It's called a dishwasher, Sirius - last time I checked, anyway," she added sadly.

Sirius glanced at Hermione, noticing that her eyes seemed brighter than usual, and realising they were full of unshed tears. He knew Hermione missed her parents a lot, and while he did feel sorry for her, he also thought that she was rather melodramatic. "Cheer up," he said. "It's your turn to do the cooking tomorrow, anyway!"

Hermione chuckled softly, and Sirius sighed with relief, knowing he had just avoided a crying session. These sessions made him rather uncomfortable, as they usually involved him outwardly trying to comfort Hermione while inwardly thinking she was over exaggerating and coping badly with the situation. He decided that now wasn't the time to say that he didn't care what those Muggle dishwashing contraptions were called, as he thought it might restart the tears.

God, that was what he hated so much about Hermione - the way she always had to correct every little thing he said wrong. He knew she was doing it more and more because she was bored of being stuck in the house most of the time with little to do, but that didn't stop it irritating him. She did it so often she didn't even know she was doing it, which meant if he did have a go at her, she normally couldn't understand what it was about.

As he sat in the lounge listening to Hermione in the kitchen, magically cleaning all the plates and returning them to their places with a flick of her wand, he allowed his thoughts to drift. He thought about that pretty barmaid whom he had seen in the pub tonight and how it was such a shame that she was a Muggle. Then he considered how he felt, and he realised that he didn't think she was special; she was just like any other woman to him. He sighed deeply. He could never find a woman for whom he truly cared. He wondered if it was getting harder as he was getting older. He snorted - thirty-three wasn't old. It wasn't his age, it was just him. He wished he could find a woman he truly loved; now that Voldemort was gone, he would be able to settle down and not worry about their safety.

He continued to probe his memory for a girl whom he had really loved. After five minutes of searching, he was forced to admit defeat and decided he was doomed to be a bachelor for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes and concentrated on telling himself that he wanted to be a bachelor, that it was a good thing: he could see anyone he liked, go anywhere he liked...hell, he could do anyone he liked! But the arguments sounded hollow and feeble even in his head. He opened his eyes to see Hermione watching him with her irritating, appraising look. As soon as she saw him looking at her, she started fussing, worrying that he wasn't getting enough sleep, asking him if he needed some sleeping draught at night. Sirius was tired of her nagging. "Hermione, will you please just leave me in peace?" he snapped. "I've got a headache now."

Ooh, he's such a conceited arrogant prat, Hermione thought to herself, after being nastily rebuffed by Sirius. All she was trying to do was make him feel better! She knew he didn't want the job of looking after her, whom he considered a child, any more than she wanted him there. Oh, how she wished it could have been Remus; he was so much nicer and easier to talk to, but he was head of the Order now.

Even better than Remus would be Harry, she thought and blushed. She could just imagine it: the two of them stuck in the house together and spending so much time with each other that he surely could not have failed to see her as a woman, instead of as his friend. But Harry was required to help round up the remaining Death Eaters, and he had to keep in the public eye so that no one could deny that he had really defeated the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale.

Hermione shivered at the thought of that day, that fateful day on which the great battle had taken place, and she drew her blanket higher up her neck, despite the great warmth given off by the fire. She watched Sirius, who was now rubbing his head in his hands, and she felt a flash of pity for him before she could stop herself. She shouldn't feel sorry for him; he had been very rude to her. She draped her blanket around her shoulders, completely ignoring Sirius, and went upstairs to her bedroom.

The days dragged by, turning into a week, and Hermione was bored witless; apart from a few walks and a couple of trips to the nearby village, she hadn't been out in ages. She felt trapped and enclosed in the house with Sirius, who was clearly worn by her presence and his duty to look after her. Then one evening, Sirius was watching Hermione re-read a book on the sofa and took pity on her. He resolved to buy her some more books to read when he next went out, but then he decided that she could do with a night out; it wouldn't do her any harm. He stretched and spoke, "Oh, what the hell Hermione, let's go out. We're both tired of being cooped up in here - you more than me, no doubt."

"Can we risk it?" she asked.

"Of course, I've not caught a single whiff of a Death Eater since we got here, and that's been over a week now," he replied.

Hermione was not convinced, but her boredom got the better of her. She agreed, asking him where they were going.

"Where else but the pub?" he said with a laugh.

After putting on several jumpers and a coat, they left the little cottage and walked out into the whirlwind of snowflakes. "Oh," said Hermione. She squealed as snow fell off a tree, and found its way onto the back of her neck, sticking on the top of her coat collar.

"Here," laughed Sirius, reaching out a hand to flick the snow away. For a second their eyes met, and something flashed between them. Hermione felt hot and turned away at once to hide her blushing, as Sirius quickly dropped his eyes.

They continued along the path in silence, with Sirius asking himself inside his head, "What the fuck just happened?!" They reached the pub, and as they entered, shaking snow from their clothes, they both visibly relaxed and let the noise and bustle of the warm pub wash over them. "There, look!" said Sirius. "There's a table free in that corner, you grab it while I get us some drinks."

After they had each had a warm mug of cocoa and an additional beer for Sirius, they were both chatting amicably. Hermione was trying to explain to Sirius what Muggle vodka tasted like: good, but rather feeble in comparison to Firewhiskey! Sirius laughed and told her he was going to the bar to get some. However, just as Sirius joined the queue at the bar, the door slammed open, and a freezing wind whistled through the pub.

Sirius glanced around and then turned abruptly to the front again, desperately trying to get eye contact with Hermione. He sidled out of the queue and slid back into his seat by her, looking apprehensive. "Everything alright?" asked Hermione obliviously. "Hey! Where's your vodka? Changed your mind?!"

"Hermione, listen to me," muttered Sirius urgently. "That man by the door, I know him, he's a Death Eater. Not high up in Voldemort's ranks, but he's got some friends with him. Look, I'd happily curse him and his friends and Obliviate all of the Muggles' memories...but Remus made me promise not to give ourselves away unless it was absolutely necessary. We can't slip past him; he might recognise me, if not you. I think we have to stay here and just avoid his gaze until we can slip out. It shouldn't be too difficult to do with us hidden in this corner."

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered. "There's five of them and only two of us!"

"Don't worry, we won't get caught," Sirius said confidently.