Protector

Title: Protector
Author: scifichick774
Rating: NC-17
Category: PWP – eh, okay, really minor plot to keep the story flow
Spoilers: through OotP
Summary: A few months after graduation from 7th year. Hermione found a way to change Sirius’s fate and is now paying for it by having to hide from being hunted by the Death Eaters herself.
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine. I’m just playing with the imaginary characters’ lives for fun and not for profit.
Archival: Sure – just let me know where.
Author’s Note: PWP, but it actually needs setup. Sorry. You’ll have to wait for the second chapter for the smut.

~*~*~*~*~

Twenty-six hours, sixteen minutes, and counting. Each tick of the grandfather clock’s hands drove Hermione that much closer to insanity. Her nerves were so tightly wound that she couldn’t sleep and her twisted gut made her appetite non-existent. Her usual standby of reading books was out as well, since the Black Manor at 12 Grimmauld Place had been severely weeded through to remove any and all texts on the dark arts, leaving approximately ten titles in total, ranging from proper magical portrait care to herbology.

Hermione had already read them. Twice.

That left the grand activity of pacing. Hours’ worth of pacing. It was remarkable that she hadn’t worn a groove into the hardwood floors by now.

“It’s just not fair!” she wailed in exasperation, not halting her persistent back and forth wandering of the parlor room as she complained. “I’m the one they’re after. I should be out fighting; not stuck here like some sort of prisoner.”

“I certainly hope you’re not looking for pity.”

Hermione frowned and shot a quick look at the owner of the voice. “I’m not,” she assured him. “And I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’m just so…frustrated.”

“Angry?”

“Of course. How could I not be?”

“Bored?” Sirius asked, the corners of his lips quirking upward since he could no longer contain his amusement.

“It’s not funny,” Hermione said irritably, stomping over to an oversized chair and flopping backward onto it.

Sirius laughed, causing Hermione to scowl at him.

“I’m sorry, Hermione. But you have to admit, there is a certain kind of sad irony to the whole situation.” He paused and leaned forward in his seat on the couch to smile at her. “You bring me back from the dead only to have the few remaining Death Eaters find out and come after you because of it, forcing us both to wind up hiding away here like I was before I died.”

Hermione heaved out a loud sigh. “Once again, I did not bring you back from the dead. I merely used an altered time turner to send a couple of spells back in time. One a protectant spell to transform Bellatrix Lestrange’s ‘Avada Kedavra’ into being nothing more than a blunt force that would knock you backward and an…experimental Apparatus spell configured to bring you forward to the present day,” she said, finally stopping to take a breath after rambling her lengthy explanation for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Anyone could have done it.”

“And I suppose that’s why Fudge gave you permission to go into the Department of Mysteries to do it?” Sirius baitingly teased. Taunting her was fast becoming one of his favorite pastimesuckyucky for him, he knew that Hermione almost always rose to the bait in an effort to explain herself and her actions. It was one of the traits that made her…her. He could certainly see why her friend Ron fought with her a good percentage of the time. She was lovely when she was upset.

Hermione’s face twisted into a displeased glower. “No,” she answered. “I suspect that was because he didn’t believe I could do it. I don’t see why not though. My research was impeccable and the spells I came up with…well, they had obviously never been tested, but I showed them to Dumbledore first and he thought they could work – and he’s a much stronger wizard than Fudge. I don’t see any reason why our esteemed Minister should have doubted my abilities.”

Sirius leaned forward, his expression softening. “I’m rather thankful he did,” he said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

“No. I suppose not,” Hermione returned with a hesitant smile.

A minute of silence passed and one of her knees started to bounce up and down and she began to loosely gnaw on her lower lip. As companionable as Sirius was being, she could tell that he didn’t want to be caged up in his ancestral home at the moment either. He wanted to be out in what they had acerbically referred to as the real world; fighting the good fight; being in action rather than forcibly put aside to play protector to someone who didn’t want one and certainly didn’t think she needed one.

Finally, she popped up from her chair and began to pace the room again, only to stop abruptly as a thought struck her brain with such obvious force that she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before.

“They think I can bring him back,” she said, the words spoken primarily for her own benefit since her gaze wasn’t focused on anything in particular. “They want me to resurrect Voldemort.”

Instead of the reprimand she was half-expecting for not figuring out the Death Eaters’ motives sooner, she received a serious, but given the speaker, entirely too apprehensive reply. “Can you?”

Hermione’s eyes dipped to the floor and she gave a weak shake of her head. No. Protecting Sirius and bringing him forward into the future had been physically, mentally, and magically exhausting; and even then she had been harvesting the power of outside forces in nature to do it. She doubted she could do the same for anyone else, regardless of how much she or one of her friends was hurting.

“Even if I could, you know I wouldn’t,” she said icily, too tired from lack of sleep and thinking about everything that was going on out of her control for the response to come out as much more than a harsh whisper.

“I know,” Sirius said. “I just meant…if you could, perhaps this isn’t the best place for you…that maybe we should get you somewhere safer; better guarded.”

A gurgling scoff leapt through Hermione’s nose and teeth, but then she reconsidered her reaction to his statement. This wasn’t just about her; it was about him. Sirius was feeling insecure and doubting his ability to protect her in the event that the Death Eaters actually found out where she was. He was frightened to not only fail the great responsibility he had been given, but of the repercussions his failure would ultimately bring.

Harry had killed Voldemort not six months before and she had invoked some very strong magic to bring Sirius forward to theure ure soon after that, reasoning that her best friend deserved something real for his valiant efforts, not just the additional fame that had ensued. She couldn’t give him his parents because they had been gone for so long and time and space had a great deal to do with whether magic could be worked or not, so she got him the next best thing. His godfather.

And now she was risking throwing away everything they had worked so hard for because of her wanting to be out there fighting with her friends. Well, she wasn’t really risking it, because despite her stubbornness, Dumbledore had made sure she couldn’t leave or be taken from the house; but Sirius didn’t know that and that’s what mattered. She crossed the small area of floor to him and hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“There’s no such place,” she quietly assured him after her moment of reflection.

Sirius seemed taken aback by the sentiment and the corners of Hermione’s mouth twitched upward in what appeared to be a tiny smirk, but in actuality was the beginnings of a defense mechanism she had subconsciously adapted long ago. When in an uncomfortable situation, she could turn the conversation around to a quip about neutral ground or one of her own shortcomings. The person to whom she was speaking would generally relax and the discussion would quickly move along to something else.

“And even if there were, I wouldn’t go,” she stated. “I can only imagine what pictures such a place would have on its walls.”

Sirius let out a sharp, startled bark of laughter; the action throwing his head slightly back and moving his messy black hair to the point where Hermione could clearly see the sides of his face.

The knock was, of course, in regards to a wizarding portrait of his dead mother that hung in the stairwell and hollered out terrible remarks to whoever accidentally woke her. Mrs. Black was especially not fond of anyone who wasn’t a pureblood witch or wizard and her loathing prejudice extended to anyone who didn’t live up to her standards within that particular category; which was to say, everyone that the portrait now encountered.

Hermione had more than colorful language thrown at her anytime the old staircase squeaked under her feet and the covered portrait blew off the blanket draped over it by bellowing loudly.

Sirius’s eyes twinkled mirthfully at her. “Dark wizards aren’t the only ones who get paranoid, Hermione,” he said, referring to the fact that Black Manor was so well protected because of his family’s complicated wards and spells keeping them shielded from the law. The statement, however, was a needless one. The fact that they were in the situation they were in at the present was testament to the fact.

“No,” Hermione concurred. “But they’re the only ones who have reason to conjure up elaborate charms to conceal their activities.”

Sirius snickered in agreement and she smiled back at him. Another silent pause pushed between them and she bit the inside of her lip as she mulled something over in her mind. Making her decision, she sighed and sat down near him on the couch.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” she said, her gaze fixed on the ornate rug that now lay beneath her feet. “I just wanted Harry to be…Harry again. Even after he killed Voldemort, he still seemed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. You know?”

She stopped for a second, but not long enough to give Sirius an opportunity to answer. “I thought as his godfather that you were the closest thing he had to his parents and since they’ve been gone too long to do anything about it…the way your death was described…it fit with you not really dying at all. So, I thought I had a fighting chance of bringing you here. But you have to believe me; I had no idea that those stupid gits would think I had enough power to raise you from the dead or that it would put you back in essentially the same position you were in before you were officially pardoned by the Ministry.”

“It’s hardly the same,” Sirius countered. “After all, I’m not being hunted by dementors – I have my freedom now…even if it’s on temporary reprieve to protect you.”

“But that’s the thing! This whole thing is pointless. I don’t need to be protected,” Hermione snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No one’s claiming you aren’t, but in this case, your friends – the people who love you – feel it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’ve told me that Harry was upset over my death…”

Hermione huffed. “That’s an understatement.”

“Then just imagine how he’d feel if he lost you,” Sirius continued.

He had twisted his body around so he was fully facing her now, but Hermione was steadily avoiding looking at him. He knew why; he had seen her do the same thing with his godson and their friend, Ron. She was angry and she was closing herself off. Perhaps it was the situation she found herself in and her lack of control of it rather than irritation with him, but the end result was the same. She was upset and she was trying to keep herself from losing her temper; a much easier prospect when she pretended the person next to her was nothing more than a talking wall.

“It’s not good for you, you know.”

“What isn’t?” she asked.

“Holding it all in like you’re doing. I’d rather you go back to screaming into the air or even at me and have it done with.”

“None of this is your fault, Sirius,” Hermione replied simply.

“It’s not yours either.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course it is,” she said, finally turning to face him.

“Yell at me then.”

“But ---”

“No arguments,” Sirius interrupted. “The anger and resentment you feel isn’t going to just go away. You have to let it out. All of it.”

“Yelling at someone who isn’t responsible for my agitation isn’t going to help.”

“What will then?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly.

“Come now. You’ve read practically every book there is, haven’t you?”

Hermione snorted, but a grin began to show on her lips. “Not even close. And even if I had, I don’t see what that has to do with ---”

“Are you telling me that not one of those books had something on alleviating feelings of pent-up anger and frustration?” Sirius prodded.

“Er…well, yes. Of course some did, but…”

Sirius arched an eyebrow and Hermione sighed again. He was serious. He was actually going to make her list the different remedies she had read about in an effort to keep her mind off of things. Bugger. It would have been nice to have some warning first so she could have read up on it.

“Fine,” she said in a clipped tone. “There’s what you suggested…”

“Yes,” Sirius nudged, urging her to continue.

“And magically speaking, there’s an emotion-numbing draught, but I haven’t seen any lying around here, nor have I seen any of the key ingredients required to make it.”

“That’s out then. What else?”

“You could Imperio me,” Hermione said snidely, only half joking.

The warm, blissful sensation that accompanied the Imperio curse would be a welcome relief from the tumultuous, trapped feeling that tweaked her nerves on end right now. It would almost be worth it to make a fool out of herself by willingly doing whatever silly, stupid thing Sirius could come up with.

“Don’t tempt me,” Sirius replied, returning the same tone she had used.

Thought he was sure Hermione had thoughts of him making her act like his new house elf, his own thoughts were running along the lines of something considerably less chaste. Gods. It had been so long. Between his imprisonment in Azkaban, being on the run from the Ministry (and therefore avoiding humans unless he was in his Animagus form), hiding out in his ancestral home, the time that passed between his so-called death and when Hermione brought him into the future (technically he knew he shouldn’t count that since he didn’t experience anything during the missing time, but the years existed on the calendar and that’s what mattered at this specific point in time), and the months spent solely with Harry and the others…well, it had been a very long time since the one-time ladies man had gotten more than the slightest of kissed on the cheek.

“Right. Well, then there’s sex of course,” Hermione said absently, her eyes staring off at some unseen point on the other side of the room.

Sirius gawked at her. She couldn’t have said what he just thought he heard. No. Just a randy old man projecting his increasingly inappropriate thoughts onto the conversation. Yes. That was it.

“But Ron’s not here, so I suppose that’s out.”

Sirius choked for breath, but was able to make it sound like he was simply clearing his throat when Hermione looked over at him with concern.

“I…um…I didn’t realize you and Ron had gotten that serious,” he said.

Hermione blushed and grinned shyly at him. “We haven’t,” she said with an embarrassed chortle. “We’re just friends. Really. But Ginny let it slip that my relationship with Viktor hadn’t gone as far as everyone thought and Ron so kindly offered to be my first should I ever want to get it over with without it being terribly awkward.”

“How big of him,” Sirius commented with heavy sarcasm.

Hermione let out a half-laugh. “Yes, well, that’s what I thought at the time as well – and told him as much – but now I think perhaps I was too rash. After all, you never know when an offer like that could come in handy…like now as a case in point.”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t mean…

But then, he hadn’t honestly thought she was talking about sex either and he’d been wrong about that.

His startled expression drew into a wary one; knowing only too well that he would need to walk on eggshells until the conversation had taken a turn into another topic.

“You aren’t saying that you’re still…I mean, that is to say…you’re not a vir---”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You needn’t pretend you’re in shock. I’m well aware that my…status…is common knowledge. It’s difficult not to when you’re openly dubbed the ‘Virgin Queen of Gryffindor’ in your last year at school.”

“I might remind you that I wasn’t exactly around for the better part of the year.”

Hermione paled as the implication struck her. She hadn’t once considered that Harry and Ron – or even Ginny – hadn’t filled him in on every last detail that had happened while he was presumed to be dead.

He hadn’t known…and she’d told him, sloughing it off as if it were everyday conversation…oh Gods.

She felt her stomach twist and tighten into a knot and then turned her face away from him as the utter embarrassment of the situation threatened to make her physically ill.

“I – I’m sorry – I just thought – oh, Merlin,” Hermione stammered, feeling the blood rush to her face to stain her cheeks. “Well, now that I’ve suitably embarrassed us both by talking about something completely uncomfortable…”

“I’m not embarrassed, Hermione – just surprised,” Sirius said. He smiled balefully. “Alright, a little embarrassed,” he admitted. “But honestly, I never would have guessed. You always carry yourself with such confidence and…well, you’d have to be blind not to see the way men look at you.”

Hermione looked down so she wouldn’t have to look at him, but she shook her head in amusement. She should have remembered what she was told about Sirius being an incorrigible flirt; she just hadn’t because he had already had the joy of life sucked out of him by the time she’d met him.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said. “But thank you. As…different…as this conversation has been, it’s helped get my mind off of everything else.”

“Any time,” Sirius said, his eyes frosting over with a leering gaze as Hermione rose from the couch and stretched tiredly. “That goes for what we were just talking about as well.” Hermione cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, causing Sirius to smirk. “What? Weasley is the only one who can make indecent proposals and get away with it?”

Hermione shook her head lightly. “You need to watch what you say,” she said. “If they’re gone much longer, I’m likely to take you up on it.”