Fallen Angel
Well, I'm back home, and as promised, here's the third chapter of Fallen Angel, hope you enjoy it :D
Title: Fallen Angel
Chapter 3: Sirius Black
“I…I don’t understand,” Hermione said, three words that rarely left her lips.
“You know me, don’t you? Tell me who I am.”
“How can you not know who you are?”
He sighed in exasperation, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you.”
“I…I’m not sure I’m the right person to talk to, Sirius. Perhaps you should find someone else to ask, someone who knew you better.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s really an option, love. No one else can see me, or hear me,” he said. “You’re the only one that can tell me.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, I should-” she started, but another voice interrupted her.
“Hermione?” Mrs Weasley asked, stepping into the library. “Hermione, who were you talking to?” she asked with a frown, when she saw there was no one else in the room.
“I just-” she stammered, her gaze darting to Sirius for a moment.
“Don’t tell her,” he said.
“I was just thinking out loud,” Hermione said, forcing a smile on her lips as she shrugged slightly.
Mrs Weasley looked at her for a few more moments, her eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. “Why don’t you go outside with the boys? You have spent entirely too much time inside the house lately, you need to get some fresh air, dear.”
“They’re playing Quidditch,” she explained. “I don’t really fancy flying.”
“Well, you shouldn’t stay here all on your own, it’s not healthy.”
“Why don’t I help you in the kitchen, then,” she suggested.
“If you’re sure you wouldn’t rather be outside,” Mrs Weasley said, and she nodded. “All right, then. Come.”
“Oh, you’re not getting out if this so easily,” Sirius said, following her out of the room.
She had thought going with Mrs Weasley, having more people around, would make it easier for her to ignore Sirius, to avoid answering his questions, at least until she’d had time to think what the best answer would be, but he wasn’t so easily discouraged.
“How do you know who I am?” he insisted, just as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Shh,” she hissed, gaining a few curious looks from the people inside the room. She just couldn’t talk to him with everyone there, they’d think she had gone crazy, and for some reason she didn’t think it’d be a good idea to tell them Sirius was there, at least not until she knew what was going on.
“You know my name, you seem to know a lot about me,” he said, walking through whatever was on his way to follow her closely.
She concentrated on getting the dishes from an upper shelf and taking them to the table, doing her best to ignore the man walking next to her and talking practically into her ear.
“This is not the time,” she whispered, looking away from everyone so they wouldn’t see her lips move.
“You have to tell me what you know,” he insisted, “I don’t know who I am and you do; just tell me.”
It was hard to ignore him when he kept following her every move so closely, when he kept talking so loudly and nonstop, demanding to know everything she knew about him. For the first few minutes, she managed to act as if he wasn’t there well enough, but then the others tried to drag her into their conversation, and it became too much.
“Don’t you agree, Hermione?” Kingsley asked, as she walked back to the table, balancing half a dozen glasses between her hands as she moved, and it was mostly the mention of her name that caught her attention.
“Huh?” She turned around, wondering what they were asking her about. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“We were talking about what happened with your father,” he explained. “I think they should amend the Statute of Secrecy to-”
“Are you going to tell me what you know or not?” Sirius asked loudly by her ear, drowning Kingsley’s voice.
She shook her head and shut her eyes tightly, trying to focus on the Auror’s voice and ignore Sirius.
“Hermione, what’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, worriedly.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Kingsley, what were you saying about the Statute?” she asked, carefully setting the glasses on the table and turning back to face Kingsley.
He looked at her for a moment, frowning slightly, but when continued. “I think it should be changed to exclude those who already know about us, basically Muggleborns’ families. It doesn’t make much sense to consider-”
“I can keep this up all day, you know?” Sirius said smugly, not as loud as before but loud enough that their voices mingled together and she couldn’t understand what Kingsley was saying anymore. “I want you to tell me what you know about me, I want to know how you-”
“Stop,” she cried, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes tightly. It was driving her crazy, the constant questioning, not being able to reply because of what the others would think. Sirius’ voice sounded stronger, louder, in her head than anyone else’s, and it was giving her the worse headache she had ever had. “Stop, just stop.”
She felt hands on her shoulders, gently but firmly turning her around, and she opened her eyes to find Mrs. Weasley standing in front of her, looking worried. The woman’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. After a few seconds, she felt the witch’s hands on hers, pulling them down.
“Hermione, dear, what is going on?” she asked her, softly.
She looked around the room, noticing everyone had turned to her and were staring at her intently, seeming both worried and confused. Her gaze landed on Sirius, then. He was still next to her, comfortably leaning against the table, not looking the least bit regretful.
“Promise to tell me what you know and I’ll stop,” he said.
She hesitated for a second, then whispered, “Fine, I promise.”
“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“Nothing, I’m sorry,” she said, with a small sigh.
“They’ll need a better explanation than that for what just happened,” Sirius said with a smirk. “You’ll have to convince them you haven’t gone completely bonkers.”
“I know,” she said, then cursed herself for having spoken to him again. No one else could see him, so as far as they were concerned, she was talking to herself. Trying to find a way to explain what had just happened, she blurted out the first excuse that came to mind.
“I’m sorry, I was working on a spell to improve my hearing, thought it could be useful for the Order, but it obviously went wrong,” she said, deciding part truths would make the best lie. She really was, after all, working on that spell, it just was nowhere near ready yet. “Now I keep hearing this awful buzz inside my head,” she said, throwing Sirius a quick glare.
“Gee, how nice of you,” he said, his smirk never faltering.
“Maybe we should take you to a healer,” Mrs. Weasley suggested, but she just shook her head.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I’m sure it’ll go away soon enough.”
“Oh, I’m wounded,” said Sirius, in mock hurt. “Just a few hours together and you want to get rid of me already?”
“You bet,” she whispered.
“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, doing her best to ignore Sirius’ laughter. “It seems the spell works for moments. I just heard Ron and Harry talking outside.”
“Quick thinking,” Sirius said, but Mrs. Weasley frowned.
“Are you quite sure you don’t want to see a healer?”
Trying to hold back a tired sigh, she forced a small smile to her lips and said, “Yes, I’m fine, really.”
“What spell did you use?” Kingsley asked.
“It was just a basic Hearing Spell I learnt at Hogwarts, but I made a few changes. I guess it needs more work,” she said, with a small shrug.
“You shouldn’t play with spells like that, dear, it could be dangerous,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Why don’t you go lie down for a few minutes? I’ll have one of the boys call you when lunch is ready.”
“No that’s all right, I’m feeling-”
“You promised to tell me what you know. You can talk now, or I can start all over again,” Sirius said, pushing away from the table and standing so close to her that his energy made her skin prickle.
“Actually,” she said to the witch, taking a step away form Sirius, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, off you go, then” Mrs. Weasley said, all but pushing her out of the kitchen.
“So?” Sirius asked, as soon as she was past the doorway.
“Not here,” she whispered, quickly making her way to the stairs. “If they hear me talking to myself again, they’ll have me committed to St Mungo’s.”
“St Mungo’s? What’s that?” he asked, following her closely.
“You don’t remember that either?”
“I don’t remember anything, I thought we’d gotten that clear.”
“Right, of course. Well, St Mungo’s is a hospital,” she explained, opening the door to her bedroom and stepping inside. She held the door open for him, but he merely walked in through the wall, past her, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“You just walked through the door, and I’ve seen you walk through furniture and people, but now you’re sitting on the bed.”
“And your question is…?”
“If you walk through things, shouldn’t you…I don’t know, fall down through the bed?” she asked, and he laughed.
“That would be very impractical, now wouldn’t it?”
“I mean it. If you don’t have a body, then how can you sit on the bed?”
“I can move through anything, as you have seen, but I can also touch objects, if I concentrate enough. It took me a few days to stop falling through the floor, actually, and it wasn’t a nice experience. The hotel room was on a third floor.”
“So if you concentrate, can you touch people, too?”
He smirked at her, as if there was a different meaning to her question, but finally he answered, “I can only touch inanimate objects.”
“Can you move things?”
“I’m not a ghost, I don’t go around rattling chains and making things fly in hopes of scaring people,” he said, rather briskly.
“Then what are you?”
“I…” he started, then hesitated. “I’ve tried to move things, but I haven’t been able to so far. I don’t think I have enough energy, or enough concentration, or whatever it is that you need to move something.”
She looked at him for a moment, not sure what to say. She finally decided to tell him what she had promised to, and walked to the bed, sitting next to him.
“If you are who I think you are, then your name is Sirius Black.”
“If I am who you think I am? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well,” she said, turning to him, “you look like Sirius Black, and you mostly act like Sirius Black, but Sirius is dead, and I’m not sure what you are, so I…I guess I can’t know for sure.”
“But you think I am this Sirius Black.”
“I do.”
“Then I believe you,” he said, as if that statement was enough to make it true, and she was surprised by the trust she saw in his eyes.
“All right. What do you want to know?”
“Everything you know.”
“Well, let’s see, your name is Sirius Black, like I said before, although your friends used to call you Padfoot.”
“Why?”
“Because you were an Animagi, you could turn into a dog.”
“How did you and I meet?”
“I…well, that’s a little complicated, actually,” she said, sitting sideways so she was facing him. “We met when I was fourteen. You broke into our school to help Harry.”
“Harry knew me, too?” he asked, surprised.
“Of course he did, you were - you are,” she corrected herself, “his godfather.”
“Godfather,” he repeated, too shocked to say anything else.
“Actually,” she continued, after a few moments of silence, “almost everyone in the Order knew you. This is, after all, your house.”
“This is my house?”
“Yes. It belonged to your family, ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’,” she said, with mock solemnity.
“You don’t sound like you liked my family much.”
“I didn’t know them, but you didn’t like them at all.”
“Why not?”
“I’m probably not the right person to ask, Sirius. I didn’t know you very well.”
“But you’re the only one I can ask, just tell me what you know.”
“Well, you come from a Pureblood family, but you didn’t think the same way they did. From what I know, you never liked the Dark Arts, and you were friends with people they didn’t approve of.”
“You said you didn’t know me very well, why is that?”
“Well, I spent some time here with Harry, during holidays, and we talked a few times, but we didn’t really get along all that well.”
“Why not?”
“Mmm, how to explain this…” She took a deep breath and blurted, “I thought you were childish and irresponsible, and you thought I was an uptight, bossy, know-it-all.” She looked at him as she spoke, and was surprised by his response to her words.
“Uptight, bossy, know-it-all?” he repeated, laughing. “I think I can imagine why I would say such a thing.”
“For your information,” she said in a huff, getting up, “I was just worried about Harry, and your careless attitude wasn’t helping him. He needed a father figure, someone he could look up to. I wasn’t worried about you liking me or not, I was worried about my friend.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, as he got up, standing in front of her. “And I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t like you, I like my women with character,” he said, flashing her a roguish smile.
“I’m not your woman,” she replied, trying to stay angry, but his charm seemed to work faster than she had expected. He merely nodded at her words and sat back down, patting the bed beside him and waiting for her to sit.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, after a few moments of silence.
“I’m just wondering why I’m the only one that can see you.”
“You were the one that tried to break the magic around Harry, and then you used a spell to see me, right?”
“A Revealing Spell, yes, but…I felt you before any of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was leaving the kitchen earlier today, before I even knew about the Protection Spell, I felt you.”
“Perhaps you are more sensitive to magic than the others are,” he suggested, but she shook her head.
“I would have thought if someone would be able to sense you when no one else could, it would be Harry.”
“Were we close?”
“He loved you, and you loved him, too,” she said. “You were very important to him, even if you only had a few years together.”
“Why only a few years?”
“Well, that’s a really long story.”
Before she could say anything else she heard the door creak open and saw Ron poke his head inside. She watched him look around the room for a moment, as if searching for something.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
“Talking? I wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“I heard you talking, Hermione.”
“I was practicing a spell, I guess that’s what you heard,” she said, and hoped he would believe her.
“Mum asked me to come get you. Lunch is ready.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, and waited until Ron left the room to turn to Sirius again. “Do you think I should tell someone about you? Maybe Harry?”
“No, I don’t think so. We don’t know why I’m here, or even for how long. I don’t want anyone to know unless they have to; it will be easier for everyone that way.”
“Then you better stop talking to me when there are people around.”
“Why should I? It is too much fun,” he said with a broad smile, as he followed her out of the room.
Title: Fallen Angel
Chapter 3: Sirius Black
“I…I don’t understand,” Hermione said, three words that rarely left her lips.
“You know me, don’t you? Tell me who I am.”
“How can you not know who you are?”
He sighed in exasperation, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you.”
“I…I’m not sure I’m the right person to talk to, Sirius. Perhaps you should find someone else to ask, someone who knew you better.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s really an option, love. No one else can see me, or hear me,” he said. “You’re the only one that can tell me.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, I should-” she started, but another voice interrupted her.
“Hermione?” Mrs Weasley asked, stepping into the library. “Hermione, who were you talking to?” she asked with a frown, when she saw there was no one else in the room.
“I just-” she stammered, her gaze darting to Sirius for a moment.
“Don’t tell her,” he said.
“I was just thinking out loud,” Hermione said, forcing a smile on her lips as she shrugged slightly.
Mrs Weasley looked at her for a few more moments, her eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. “Why don’t you go outside with the boys? You have spent entirely too much time inside the house lately, you need to get some fresh air, dear.”
“They’re playing Quidditch,” she explained. “I don’t really fancy flying.”
“Well, you shouldn’t stay here all on your own, it’s not healthy.”
“Why don’t I help you in the kitchen, then,” she suggested.
“If you’re sure you wouldn’t rather be outside,” Mrs Weasley said, and she nodded. “All right, then. Come.”
“Oh, you’re not getting out if this so easily,” Sirius said, following her out of the room.
She had thought going with Mrs Weasley, having more people around, would make it easier for her to ignore Sirius, to avoid answering his questions, at least until she’d had time to think what the best answer would be, but he wasn’t so easily discouraged.
“How do you know who I am?” he insisted, just as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Shh,” she hissed, gaining a few curious looks from the people inside the room. She just couldn’t talk to him with everyone there, they’d think she had gone crazy, and for some reason she didn’t think it’d be a good idea to tell them Sirius was there, at least not until she knew what was going on.
“You know my name, you seem to know a lot about me,” he said, walking through whatever was on his way to follow her closely.
She concentrated on getting the dishes from an upper shelf and taking them to the table, doing her best to ignore the man walking next to her and talking practically into her ear.
“This is not the time,” she whispered, looking away from everyone so they wouldn’t see her lips move.
“You have to tell me what you know,” he insisted, “I don’t know who I am and you do; just tell me.”
It was hard to ignore him when he kept following her every move so closely, when he kept talking so loudly and nonstop, demanding to know everything she knew about him. For the first few minutes, she managed to act as if he wasn’t there well enough, but then the others tried to drag her into their conversation, and it became too much.
“Don’t you agree, Hermione?” Kingsley asked, as she walked back to the table, balancing half a dozen glasses between her hands as she moved, and it was mostly the mention of her name that caught her attention.
“Huh?” She turned around, wondering what they were asking her about. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“We were talking about what happened with your father,” he explained. “I think they should amend the Statute of Secrecy to-”
“Are you going to tell me what you know or not?” Sirius asked loudly by her ear, drowning Kingsley’s voice.
She shook her head and shut her eyes tightly, trying to focus on the Auror’s voice and ignore Sirius.
“Hermione, what’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, worriedly.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Kingsley, what were you saying about the Statute?” she asked, carefully setting the glasses on the table and turning back to face Kingsley.
He looked at her for a moment, frowning slightly, but when continued. “I think it should be changed to exclude those who already know about us, basically Muggleborns’ families. It doesn’t make much sense to consider-”
“I can keep this up all day, you know?” Sirius said smugly, not as loud as before but loud enough that their voices mingled together and she couldn’t understand what Kingsley was saying anymore. “I want you to tell me what you know about me, I want to know how you-”
“Stop,” she cried, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes tightly. It was driving her crazy, the constant questioning, not being able to reply because of what the others would think. Sirius’ voice sounded stronger, louder, in her head than anyone else’s, and it was giving her the worse headache she had ever had. “Stop, just stop.”
She felt hands on her shoulders, gently but firmly turning her around, and she opened her eyes to find Mrs. Weasley standing in front of her, looking worried. The woman’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. After a few seconds, she felt the witch’s hands on hers, pulling them down.
“Hermione, dear, what is going on?” she asked her, softly.
She looked around the room, noticing everyone had turned to her and were staring at her intently, seeming both worried and confused. Her gaze landed on Sirius, then. He was still next to her, comfortably leaning against the table, not looking the least bit regretful.
“Promise to tell me what you know and I’ll stop,” he said.
She hesitated for a second, then whispered, “Fine, I promise.”
“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“Nothing, I’m sorry,” she said, with a small sigh.
“They’ll need a better explanation than that for what just happened,” Sirius said with a smirk. “You’ll have to convince them you haven’t gone completely bonkers.”
“I know,” she said, then cursed herself for having spoken to him again. No one else could see him, so as far as they were concerned, she was talking to herself. Trying to find a way to explain what had just happened, she blurted out the first excuse that came to mind.
“I’m sorry, I was working on a spell to improve my hearing, thought it could be useful for the Order, but it obviously went wrong,” she said, deciding part truths would make the best lie. She really was, after all, working on that spell, it just was nowhere near ready yet. “Now I keep hearing this awful buzz inside my head,” she said, throwing Sirius a quick glare.
“Gee, how nice of you,” he said, his smirk never faltering.
“Maybe we should take you to a healer,” Mrs. Weasley suggested, but she just shook her head.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I’m sure it’ll go away soon enough.”
“Oh, I’m wounded,” said Sirius, in mock hurt. “Just a few hours together and you want to get rid of me already?”
“You bet,” she whispered.
“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, doing her best to ignore Sirius’ laughter. “It seems the spell works for moments. I just heard Ron and Harry talking outside.”
“Quick thinking,” Sirius said, but Mrs. Weasley frowned.
“Are you quite sure you don’t want to see a healer?”
Trying to hold back a tired sigh, she forced a small smile to her lips and said, “Yes, I’m fine, really.”
“What spell did you use?” Kingsley asked.
“It was just a basic Hearing Spell I learnt at Hogwarts, but I made a few changes. I guess it needs more work,” she said, with a small shrug.
“You shouldn’t play with spells like that, dear, it could be dangerous,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Why don’t you go lie down for a few minutes? I’ll have one of the boys call you when lunch is ready.”
“No that’s all right, I’m feeling-”
“You promised to tell me what you know. You can talk now, or I can start all over again,” Sirius said, pushing away from the table and standing so close to her that his energy made her skin prickle.
“Actually,” she said to the witch, taking a step away form Sirius, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, off you go, then” Mrs. Weasley said, all but pushing her out of the kitchen.
“So?” Sirius asked, as soon as she was past the doorway.
“Not here,” she whispered, quickly making her way to the stairs. “If they hear me talking to myself again, they’ll have me committed to St Mungo’s.”
“St Mungo’s? What’s that?” he asked, following her closely.
“You don’t remember that either?”
“I don’t remember anything, I thought we’d gotten that clear.”
“Right, of course. Well, St Mungo’s is a hospital,” she explained, opening the door to her bedroom and stepping inside. She held the door open for him, but he merely walked in through the wall, past her, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“You just walked through the door, and I’ve seen you walk through furniture and people, but now you’re sitting on the bed.”
“And your question is…?”
“If you walk through things, shouldn’t you…I don’t know, fall down through the bed?” she asked, and he laughed.
“That would be very impractical, now wouldn’t it?”
“I mean it. If you don’t have a body, then how can you sit on the bed?”
“I can move through anything, as you have seen, but I can also touch objects, if I concentrate enough. It took me a few days to stop falling through the floor, actually, and it wasn’t a nice experience. The hotel room was on a third floor.”
“So if you concentrate, can you touch people, too?”
He smirked at her, as if there was a different meaning to her question, but finally he answered, “I can only touch inanimate objects.”
“Can you move things?”
“I’m not a ghost, I don’t go around rattling chains and making things fly in hopes of scaring people,” he said, rather briskly.
“Then what are you?”
“I…” he started, then hesitated. “I’ve tried to move things, but I haven’t been able to so far. I don’t think I have enough energy, or enough concentration, or whatever it is that you need to move something.”
She looked at him for a moment, not sure what to say. She finally decided to tell him what she had promised to, and walked to the bed, sitting next to him.
“If you are who I think you are, then your name is Sirius Black.”
“If I am who you think I am? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well,” she said, turning to him, “you look like Sirius Black, and you mostly act like Sirius Black, but Sirius is dead, and I’m not sure what you are, so I…I guess I can’t know for sure.”
“But you think I am this Sirius Black.”
“I do.”
“Then I believe you,” he said, as if that statement was enough to make it true, and she was surprised by the trust she saw in his eyes.
“All right. What do you want to know?”
“Everything you know.”
“Well, let’s see, your name is Sirius Black, like I said before, although your friends used to call you Padfoot.”
“Why?”
“Because you were an Animagi, you could turn into a dog.”
“How did you and I meet?”
“I…well, that’s a little complicated, actually,” she said, sitting sideways so she was facing him. “We met when I was fourteen. You broke into our school to help Harry.”
“Harry knew me, too?” he asked, surprised.
“Of course he did, you were - you are,” she corrected herself, “his godfather.”
“Godfather,” he repeated, too shocked to say anything else.
“Actually,” she continued, after a few moments of silence, “almost everyone in the Order knew you. This is, after all, your house.”
“This is my house?”
“Yes. It belonged to your family, ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’,” she said, with mock solemnity.
“You don’t sound like you liked my family much.”
“I didn’t know them, but you didn’t like them at all.”
“Why not?”
“I’m probably not the right person to ask, Sirius. I didn’t know you very well.”
“But you’re the only one I can ask, just tell me what you know.”
“Well, you come from a Pureblood family, but you didn’t think the same way they did. From what I know, you never liked the Dark Arts, and you were friends with people they didn’t approve of.”
“You said you didn’t know me very well, why is that?”
“Well, I spent some time here with Harry, during holidays, and we talked a few times, but we didn’t really get along all that well.”
“Why not?”
“Mmm, how to explain this…” She took a deep breath and blurted, “I thought you were childish and irresponsible, and you thought I was an uptight, bossy, know-it-all.” She looked at him as she spoke, and was surprised by his response to her words.
“Uptight, bossy, know-it-all?” he repeated, laughing. “I think I can imagine why I would say such a thing.”
“For your information,” she said in a huff, getting up, “I was just worried about Harry, and your careless attitude wasn’t helping him. He needed a father figure, someone he could look up to. I wasn’t worried about you liking me or not, I was worried about my friend.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, as he got up, standing in front of her. “And I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t like you, I like my women with character,” he said, flashing her a roguish smile.
“I’m not your woman,” she replied, trying to stay angry, but his charm seemed to work faster than she had expected. He merely nodded at her words and sat back down, patting the bed beside him and waiting for her to sit.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, after a few moments of silence.
“I’m just wondering why I’m the only one that can see you.”
“You were the one that tried to break the magic around Harry, and then you used a spell to see me, right?”
“A Revealing Spell, yes, but…I felt you before any of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was leaving the kitchen earlier today, before I even knew about the Protection Spell, I felt you.”
“Perhaps you are more sensitive to magic than the others are,” he suggested, but she shook her head.
“I would have thought if someone would be able to sense you when no one else could, it would be Harry.”
“Were we close?”
“He loved you, and you loved him, too,” she said. “You were very important to him, even if you only had a few years together.”
“Why only a few years?”
“Well, that’s a really long story.”
Before she could say anything else she heard the door creak open and saw Ron poke his head inside. She watched him look around the room for a moment, as if searching for something.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
“Talking? I wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“I heard you talking, Hermione.”
“I was practicing a spell, I guess that’s what you heard,” she said, and hoped he would believe her.
“Mum asked me to come get you. Lunch is ready.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, and waited until Ron left the room to turn to Sirius again. “Do you think I should tell someone about you? Maybe Harry?”
“No, I don’t think so. We don’t know why I’m here, or even for how long. I don’t want anyone to know unless they have to; it will be easier for everyone that way.”
“Then you better stop talking to me when there are people around.”
“Why should I? It is too much fun,” he said with a broad smile, as he followed her out of the room.