Back for Good

Hermione opened the front door. When she did, Sirius Black fell through the threshold, and onto the floor at her feet.


She felt like cold water had been thrown on her face. She couldn’t move, even as the soaking wet lump at her feet shivered and trembled. When it tried to raise itself onto its hands but couldn’t, and fell back down, Hermione could only stare.

With a calmness belied only by her widened eyes and shaking hands, Hermione closed the front door. Sirius Black was inside her house. His house. Sirius was back from the veil. He was alive.

Hermione’s breathing became shallow, and her chest felt like someone deposited a person onto it. A person shaped like Sirius Black. Sirius Black, who was currently near-convulsing face-down on the floor.

Holy shit!

Hermione immediately dropped to her knees, and turned him over. His eyes were open, but they didn’t seem to have sight. He stared blankly past her face as his body was racked with shivers. She pulled him into her lap, wondering what the hell she was supposed to be doing right now.

“Sirius…oh, my gods, Sirius, can you hear me?”

No response, no flicker of recognition. Hermione placed her hand gently on his face, which looked precisely as it had on the day he’d entered the veil. Even his clothes were the same, with no sign or age or misuse. It was as though not a day had passed since his disappearance. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of physical danger, just shock. How he made it home from the veil was a mystery to her.

She carded her fingers through his hair, contemplating what she should do next. Obviously she had to firecall Harry, but first she had to make sure Sirius was okay. She held his face with both hands, dreading the cold feel of his skin beneath her fingers.

“Sirius…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do!” This exclamation cost her lot, as she hated admitting ignorance or helplessness.

Her hands on his face seemed to calm his movements. He closed his blank eyes, relaxing slightly against her. He only twitched occasionally, as she continued to pet and placate him.

She knew she had to get him warm. His clothes were dripping with icy water, and she realized it must have been raining out. She scooted out from beneath him, wondering how she could get him into a tub. She laid him gently on the floor, thinking she would fill the tub first. Looking at him uncertainly, she decided he would be okay for a second. She ran to the main floor bathroom and started to fill the tub. She heard a low moan coming from Sirius, but by the time she ran back to his side, it had grown to a tormented scream. He had been trying to stand up again, but fell down after a fruitless attempt.

The unearthly cries stopped as soon as she touched him again.

“I’m running a bath for you, okay? We just have to…get you to it. I’m going to use a spell, and we’ll have you in the tub in no time, all right?”

She waited for an answer and received none. Eternally grateful that Snape had seen fit to take the limitations off her wand that very day, she cast, “Mobilicorpus,” and trained her wand on him. He rose from the ground a little quickly, and Hermione had to refocus her magic to get him stabilized. Shaking from the effort of not hurting him, she was able to get him into the bathroom without him protesting.

Once there, she lowered him to his feet, and propped him up against the wall, thinking if nothing else, she could at least support him if his legs would help. He was able to stand, but continued to stare lifelessly at her, looking without seeing her. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and took it off him, his body making the movements she needed it to, but without taking initiative. His limbs remained where she placed them until she moved them back, and she was able to undress his top half. Her hand hesitated over the fly of his jeans, and she mentally shook herself for being childish. Nonetheless, she averted her eyes as she pulled his pants down, leaving his tight black boxers on.

She levitated him right into the tub, and he jerked slightly at the change in temperature, but relaxed slowly, eyes falling shut.

Hermione sat by the tub with him, unwilling to look away for a second, lest he fall under the water line. She added more hot water twice, and she even washed his hair for him, knowing what pride he took in his mane.

While he was resting in the tub, Hermione finally let her emotions hit her. He was back; he was truly back, truly alive. She hadn’t failed after all; everything was fine. A sob escaped her throat, and the loud noise seemed to startle Sirius, because he frowned, though she thought him asleep. She tried to muffle the noises, but couldn’t stop the wrenching cries that escaped her. Harry will be so happy to see him. She had given him his family back. Everything was going to be okay….

Hermione’s tears turned to laughter, and her shoulders shook as the enormity of what happened hit her. In her mirth, she did not notice that Sirius’ frown had disappeared. He looked so at peace, she was loathe to take him out of the tub. But she had to get him in bed, so she could get Harry.

She began to mechanically dry him off with a large towel, leaving his dripping boxers on for the moment. His hair took a while to dry, and she knew instinctively he would not appreciate a drying spell on it.

“Okay, Sirius. You’re all warm and clean, now I’m going to use the spell to get you out of the tub, and then I’m going to dress you, and put you in your bed. Then when you wake up, you can see Harry.”

Hermione was thrilled to see a flash of emotion in Sirius’ blank gaze at the mention of Harry before it was quelled. She got him out of the bathroom, and started toward his old room before she remembered she had completely destroyed it in her uncharacteristic rampage.

She turned to her room instead, the only other furnished room at the moment. Once there, she found a pair of black pajama pants and an old tee shirt of Ron’s, kept for sentimental reasons. She put the tee shirt on him by lifting his arms, which stayed in midair until she guided them down to his side again.

Okay, now the pants, she told herself. Hermione couldn’t stop the flush that stained her cheeks, unwilling to admit that she was affected by the body of her best friend’s godfather. After all they had been through together, Hermione was unable to touch him clinically. Mentally shaking herself, she put her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and began to tug. The trail of black hair on his lower belly leading into his shorts was too much, however, and Hermione pulled her hands away as if burnt.

Laughing unsteadily, she stared at him. He stared back, unmoving. Remembering herself and internally berating herself for her silliness, Hermione cast a drying charm on the underpants. She nearly cried at her inability to be detached, and she hastily adorned him in the black pajama pants. She guided him to the bed, pulling the covers back and leading him in.

She pulled the sheets tight against him, freeing his hands from beneath them, as she herself hating having her hands trapped. His eyes closed almost immediately, his breathing steady. A light snore was escaping his lips, and Hermione stroked his hair gently. She reached down to kiss his cheek, but stopped halfway, and patted it awkwardly with her hand instead.

“Welcome home, Sirius Black.”

She left the room, and did not see one hesitant arm rise from the bed to reach for her, before falling back onto the sheets.

Once outside the room, Hermione leaned on the wall heavily. Being in his presence was having a strange effect on her. Her body felt hot and itchy, uncomfortable, yet her mind was somehow at peace. And now, making her way to the fireplace to Floo Harry, she felt like she should be in there with Sirius. She felt really wrong away from him.

Probably my admittedly lacking nursing instincts kicking in, she told herself, reaching for the Floo powder.

Harry’s tired face appeared in her hearth, and she asked him to come over. He kindly reminded her of the time, and the fact that they both had work in only a few hours, but she insisted, and a few moments later, Harry stepped into her living room, grumpily dusting himself off.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his Auror training kicking in when he saw the strange look on her face.

“Yes, of course. Harry, I…you need to see this,” she said, certain that telling him would only result in him vehemently denying it, and wasting time.

He looked at her sideways, wondering if she’d well and truly lost it. “Okay, then. Let’s see.”

She took his hand, leading him to her bedroom. He stopped outside the open door, digging his heels in. “Whoa, Hermione! What exactly do you need to show me in your bedroom?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry James Potter! Do you think I’m seducing you or something?” she demanded incredulously.

He laughed nervously, saying, “Of course not, I’m sorry. It’s late, you know,” he admitted by way of an excuse.

She gripped his hand tighter, dragging him into the room. “Just come, okay?” He followed her, his eyes searching the room and falling upon the bed. He narrowed his eyes, and took a step closer. His hand flew to his mouth, and he gasped.

“Is that…is that…?”

“Yes, Harry. It’s Sirius. He came back tonight, I don’t know how, but he’s here and he’s alive.”

“Oh my…holy…Sirius….” Harry couldn’t stop the tears from escaping; he had never stopped missing Sirius, feeling he had been cheated out of his only family. And now here he was, looking like not a day had passed, sleeping soundly in Hermione’s bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Harry turned to Hermione, gathering her in his arms, and crying unashamedly into her hair. “Thank you, thank you,” he murmured, not taking his eyes from Sirius for a second. Hermione was crying as well, wishing Sirius was awake for this reunion.

“Harry, I don’t know when he will wake up, or if he will be the same. Please brace yourself for any unpleasantness. He did look like he heard your name, though.”

“What do you mean? He hasn’t been awake? How did he get here?”

Hermione tried to lead Harry to the sitting room to talk, but he wouldn’t leave Sirius’s side. They sat on the bed, Hermione sitting close the pillows, absentmindedly brushing the hair off the sleeping man’s face, then taking his hand in hers, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand.

Sirius’ sleeping form let out a sigh and shifted ever so slightly. Harry’s eyes lit up immediately, but Sirius still seemed to be deeply asleep.

Sitting on the bed, both holding onto to Sirius’ hand as if he would slip away any second, the two friends talked about his dramatic arrival and subsequent bathing, and how he hadn’t responded to her voce or words, except Harry’s name, but seemed in perfect health. She didn’t mention the haunting scream, thinking Harry didn’t need to know, since it was only a momentary thing and hadn’t recurred.

Hermione brought a cot into her room for Harry, who wouldn’t think of leaving his godfather alone. Hermione lied down on the couch in the sitting room, her eyes burning as she thanked the gods for his miraculous return. She’d never seen Harry so happy, so excited. If anyone deserved this, it was him.

Making a mental note to owl Snape in the morning to tell him the news and possibly to gloat, Hermione let sleep take her, thinking only of the dark haired man on her pillow.

The dream had the same qualities as the others: darkness, quietness, and a near-overwhelming sense of foreboding. But this was the first time she was not on a stone slab, secured by ropes or encumbered by heaviness. She seemed to be free to move. An insistent whispering was rising in volume all around her, but thankfully never to the deafening proportions of her other dreams.

An intense ripping sensation made itself known within her. She gasped in agony and clutched herself, but she knew the place from which the ripping began was not a physical place, but a spiritual one. It was not her body that was in danger, but that did not lesson the pain.

A low, keening cry surrounded her, and it reached vociferous levels before she realized it was coming from her. She felt so alone, so scared…something was missing…she was fragmented.

She let her head fall back and screamed.


She awoke with a start, her body beaded with sweat. She could tell it was still the middle of the night by the blackness surrounding her, but she felt wide awake. She spent a few moments contemplating trying to fall back asleep for an hour or so before she had to get up for work. Then she realized there was no way she could leave Sirius here by himself! Maybe Harry could stay with him, she mused. As much as she would love to play hooky and stay here in case something happened, she knew she couldn’t afford it.

She got up, knowing there was no way she’d be sleeping now that she was thinking of Sirius and when he would recover. She got herself a glass of water, and brought it into her bedroom. She stepped up to the bed and knelt, making no noise, and looked up its occupant. Sirius had moved in the night, and was lying on his side, hugging a pillow to his stomach. He looked so young, so peaceful. After he’d escaped from Azkaban and had been subsequently trapped in his house until his name was cleared, he’d looked like death warmed up. His hair had no luster and his eyes were haunted. But the longer he was out, the more he’d returned to his old self, until he was as fit and handsome as he’d been in his youth. But even now, though physically intact, there was a look to him like he’d seen horrors, and Hermione knew she could never understand the depth of the damage caused by the prison. But in slumber, he looked childlike, and Hermione could not resist cupping his warm cheek in her palm and gently caressing his face. She grazed her thumb over his eyebrow, and gently pushed his hair over his shoulder.

She was about to turn away when his lips opened and she heard a small moan. She gasped, knowing he was responding to her touch. She quickly put her hand back on his cheek, and his eyes immediately opened. Instead of being slightly out of focus, Sirius looked directly into Hermione’s brown eyes. She smiled hesitantly, silently urging him to say something, but he only looked at her. A flash of pain glanced across his features, making his close his eyes tightly. She didn’t take her hand away, however, and soon his breathing became regular, and she knew him to be asleep again.


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Author’s Note: Thanks for reading! This is my first series ever, and it was only supposed to be ten chapters. However, it looks like it will end up being much longer.

I am desperately seeking a beta. I am looking for someone with a very strong grasp on grammar and punctuation especially. If you or someone you know would like to help me out, please email me at literarybeauty@live.com. I need someone with a fairly fast turnaround time, 2-3 days preferably.

Again, thank you for reading, and please rate and review! I treasure every single review, no word of a lie.