InsaneJournal

Who: Sirius and Hermione
What: Sirius decides to pay Hermione a visit. All for her own good, of course.
When: [Backdated] January 3rd
Where: Hermione’s flat.
Rating/Warnings: Medium, for swearing.
Status: Complete!

Sirius knocked on Hermione’s door, sagging against the doorframe as he waited for someone to answer. He was tired, the kind of tired which pressed at the back of his eyes and created dark bags under his eyes. And there was still that aching pressure deep in his chest, threatening to burst right out of him in some kind of ugly wave of emotion. Still, as the door swung open he hoisted his mask into place, flashing Hermione a slow grin and holding out the small box he had in one hand.

“I brought you a present.” It was a box of herbal teas, opened but still more or less full. “Moony brought them. They taste like shitty dishwater.” He shoved the box into her hands, then slipped past her into the flat, rubbing a hand over swollen, tired eyes and taking a shaking breath. This continued attempt to stay calm, not to do anything stupid, was killing him. It was so against his nature it made his hands shake with the effort not to hex someone. Anyone.

“How you holding up?” he finally asked Hermione, spinning on his heel to look back at her as she shut the front door.

Hermione was exhausted as well, but she wasn't dealing with the added grief that Sirius had shouldered. She was terribly upset about the Doctor but he was a new friend, not someone she was as close to as Sirius had been to Morgana and Rose. And she hadn't lost her brother with whom she'd recently made peace. So the dark circles under his eyes and the suspicious redness didn't surprise her at all.

"I'm all right," she answered simply, which was true enough. "John and Sherlock have managed to keep themselves out of trouble thus far, which is statistically rather unlikely." She glanced down at the box of teabags and shrugged minutely before stepping towards Sirius. "And you..." It wasn't even a question; a poor transition, as she folded her arms around him. He would learn to like hugs if it killed him.

Sirius tensed up automatically as Hermione folded her arms around him, before finally giving in and hugging her back. Sirius didn’t have any problem with physical contact - he went through life sleeping with strangers, throwing an arm around James’ shoulders, rugby tackling whichever of his friends had the poor luck to be walking in front of him. But things like this - contact with emotion behind it, with sympathy. It made feel vulnerable, uncomfortable. But he let Hermione hug him, even pressed his face briefly into the mess of curls tucked under his chin, before peeling himself away.

“M’alright,” he replied briefly, shrugging and sweeping dark hair back from his face. “As expected, really. D’you have any normal tea or coffee? Something that’s not made from weeds?”

The slight bend in his spine and the feeling of his chin digging into the top of her head was confirmation enough for Hermione. Her free hand rubbed his back lightly as he pulled back. It would have to do for now. "No, you're not," she said frankly, looking up at him. "But I won't press you. Yet," she added.

"Of course we have normal tea. Civilisation hasn't collapsed completely," she said lightly. "But I think we're out of coffee, so you'll have to make do. Are you living on anything but caffeine and fags?" Hermione moved into the kitchen as she spoke, setting the kettle going and taking out mugs. "And we're out of milk, I'm afraid." Stiff upper lip, carrying on and all that. Even under an alien invasion.

Sirius loped into the kitchen after her, throwing himself down on one of the kitchen chairs and swinging his legs up onto the table, rocking back onto the back legs of the seat as he watched her fuss with the tea. “Coffee, fags and booze,” he shot back, before smirking falsely and shaking his head at the look on her face. “Nah. Lily’s been more or less forcing food down my throat. It’s a little terrifying having her looming over me every mealtime.”

He let his chair fall back onto four legs with a bang, biting down on the inside of his mouth. Hermione, after all, didn’t know everything that was bothering him. He could tell her the rest, of course. If he wanted to. But how do you bring up something like that? ’So, I had a crazy night the other night. Apparently, Remus might love me. So there you go!’ So he remained silent until the kettle clicked off and the tea was made. “You and Evans should discuss fussing tips.”

Hermione pushed Sirius' feet off the table without looking. "It comes from years of trying to keep Potters from getting themselves killed." Even if Harry was older than she was currently, and more than capable of taking care of himself. She was excellent at fussing. Since Sirius seemed to need it, she would supply all the looking-after he needed.

Setting the cups of tea down on the table and taking the chair next to his, Hermione looked at Sirius again. "Have you gotten any sleep since this whole thing kicked off?" Not that she'd been getting much either. Still, though, he looked an absolute wreck.

Sirius rolled his eyes but let her shove his legs down from their position crossed on the table, instead stretching them out underneath, a fond, slightly proud smile gracing his tired features at the mention of his Godson. But Harry was a bloody responsible bloke. Kind of. She couldn’t have done too bad a job in keeping an eye on him. Hermione placed the tea down and settled in the seat beside him, and the animagus could feel her eyes examining. Shaking his hair back, Sirius slouched back in his own chair and offered Hermione the best, most charming smile he could manage when it felt like the world was punching holes straight through him.

“Who wants to be sleeping when there’s so many more interesting things to be doing?” He smirked, then rolled his eyes and rocked back on the seat once again, teetering on the back legs so his feet dangled down. “Some. Not much. I don’t...” He bit down on his lip, causing the thin skin there to flush pink as he finally let his dark gaze land on Hermione’s face. “Things have been... different. With me and Moony. I dunno. I go out a lot.”

A stumbled sentence which in itself was a spectacular breakthrough when it came to Sirius and actually sharing things that were important. Or at least sharing with anyone other than James Potter.

Well, that wasn't terribly convincing, and Hermione kicked Sirius's leg gently. His best smile was fairly low-wattage at the moment. "I haven't been sleeping much either," she confessed, brushing curls out of her face as she sipped her tea. "Hard to, when those things are outside all the time. Even with soundproofing wards it's difficult knowing they're just... waiting." And laughing. Taking out the Toclafane was difficult and she was beginning to wonder if they would ever stop flooding the city.

The evasions from the animagus weren't hard to miss, even if Hermione wasn't sure what he was avoiding until he mentioned Remus. Her eyes locked onto his, steady and unflinching. "So the mistletoe shook things up a bit, then?" It was the most delicate way she could think of to phrase it without just letting the subject drop entirely. "I mean, I can't imagine things being entirely normal if I'd been forced to kiss Harry." Or if she'd been caught with Ron, which might have been worse under the current circumstances.

Sirius nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. Having murderous spheres bouncing off your wards and spinning off giggling wasn’t ideal at the best of times, let alone when you were trying to sleep. Sirius had given up trying not to notice the occasional flashes of those weird gun-things, not being aware of what they meant. Before Rose had gone, she’d told him some things about those metal orbs, things which turned his stomach and made him hate them just a little more. Not that he’d ever share it. The thought of his blonde friend sent a painful shiver of loss up his spine.

“Yeah,” he agreed, gaze fixed on the mug cooling in his hands. “Exactly. And magic does fuck all, so we’re just...” he trailed off, his tone and expression revealing how frustrated he was by it all. In Sirius’ eyes there was nothing worse than just sitting. Sitting and waiting. And he was sure Hermione would understand that. Then the topic shifted to Remus, and Sirius shuffled awkwardly in his seat, dropping the girl's probing stare.

“Yeah... well, anyway.” Was he honestly going to tell her this? Hermione, as far as he knew, was the only one who knew about the mistletoe fiasco. And Sirius, despite the girls queuing up at his door both at Hogwarts and afterwards, was lost when it came to anything involving real feelings, whether they were his or someone else's. His initial reaction was always to make a joke and then get the fuck out as quickly as possible. But he couldn’t do that this time.

“I got drunk. Really drunk. I mean, even for me, I was steaming. I could have been on Jupiter for all I knew that night. Anyway, I wanted...” He hesitated. “I don’t even know what I wanted. But I went into Moony’s room and... well... Nothing happened!” He was quick to point out, eyes widening as his gaze flew back to her face. “Well, nothing like that, but... I dunno. I think I upset him. I didn’t mean to. But he said things and..” Sirius trailed off, sagging back in his chair and taking a much needed sip of tea. “I mean... what the fuck do you do?”

"Just stuck," she agreed. Combining spells hadn't worked so far. Nothing really worked. They were just trapped waiting to see what might happen and waiting for the mercy of whatever force had brought them here. And mercy seemed to be in short supply. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder as he shuddered, though she wasn't sure of the source. This situation had to be handled delicately. Spooking him out of telling her anything would be wholly counterproductive.

His confession made her brows draw together, even as he assured her that nothing had happened. The very fact that he had gone to Remus' room when he was drunk was telling, rather than seeking out some random girl or one of his other closer companions. "What sort of things did he say? What did you say?" She paused. "What do I do? How do you mean that?" Because it wasn't exactly as if she got drunk and fell into strangers' beds all the time.

Merlin, Sirius was bad at this stuff. He could be the most charming bloke in school, melt hearts if he wanted. He was good at it. And he was good at getting away with it. But this was different because it was Remus and Sirius was quite sure it’d break him if he lost him. And he didn’t even know what that meant in terms of their relationship. Sirius hesitated, taking a gulp of scalding tea to try and hide his confusion. Should he say this? Hermione wouldn’t tell - she was pretty good at keeping things to herself.

“He said...” Sirius placed the mug back down, feeling something churn in his chest. “He said he was scared and that...” He avoided her gaze. “That he might love... he might love me.” And saying it was like hearing it all over again, making his heart give up on beating like a normal, boring organ and instead lurch in his chest, while his stomach was suddenly infested with something that squirmed. Why the bloody hell was that happening? All kinds of reactions that Sirius didn’t want. Sirius had a habit of making people fall for him. Mostly by accident. And usually he could run away from it, or laugh it off. “And don’t you dare tell him I told you. Because I will jinx you.”

“I mean... you hooked up with your best friend, right? Ron?” Sirius waved a hand, nearly taking out his tea cup. Then he started as a ball of ginger fur vaulted neatly into his lap. Crookshanks turned twice to get comfy, purring loud enough to rival the Hogwarts express, and then settled down while Sirius did his best not to look too weirded out by the affection. “Uh... I know you’re not with him now and blah blah blah whatever. But still. And I’m not saying I want to... I mean. It’s Moony. It’s... I don’t know what it is. And I have others who... But they’re not... You know?”

He bloody hoped she did. Because Sirius himself hadn’t a fucking clue what he was talking about.

Oh, Remus. Hermione wished she'd had the chance to talk with him about all of this. But he was so young and had only the barest idea of who she was, and he likely wouldn't have trusted her to talk about this. Not when it was so clearly troubling for both of the young men. And Sirius looked as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest. Which definitely meant something, even if he wasn't entirely sure what. She gave him a 'you have got to be kidding' look when he warned her against telling anyone else. "As if I would," she said, before shaking her head and growing serious again.

"I did," she said in answer to his question about Ron. Hermione turned the teacup on the table, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "I suppose the question for you is how you feel. And not how you feel about your reputation, or whether it will ruin your friendship - because things aren't going to be the same from now on. They simply can't be." She chuckled at Crookshanks, then shrugged. "He's your best friend. Whether you're shagging other girls doesn't change the fact that the two of you have something special, and you ought to give that the respect it deserves. Even if you don't end up together." Hermione risked a glance at his face. "Did that make any sense? I'm really not the right person to ask about this, Ron and I were horrible at this and took forever to sort everything out."

Sirius did his best to get his head on straight, to sort his thoughts out. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so reluctant when it came to this thing with Remus. Sirius liked jumping from girl to girl, he liked being about to pick and chose from several partners at any one time and not having to worry about the consequences. Sirius was a lot better at keeping people at arms length than almost anyone knew - he could pretend like almost no’ one else he knew.

Perhaps it was the fact that Remus was one of the few who had actually ever got close enough to really hurt him, was one of the few, out of the crowds of people Sirius knew, who really knew what was going on. Sirius just couldn’t take the risk that this all go tits up. Which seemed rather inevitable. He was hardly known as being good in relationships, after all. In fact, he’d go as far to say he was bloody awful at them. He got bored. That was the simple truth. He was easily distracted and got bored easily, and that made him a terrible partner. And Remus knew that.

“Oh, Granger,” Sirius cooed, giving Hermione a wicked, teasing grin before reaching over to ruffle her hair, messing up the out-of-control locks. The cat in his lap hissed and clung on with the movement, but Sirius ignored it. “I think you give very good advice. Ish. One day you may even inherit my agony aunt apron. Although you’d have to listen to Rose witter on about aliens, and I will insist you don’t wear anything underneath it.”

Make a mildly perverse joke, and take the edge of it with a charming, killer smile. Sirius’ automatic route of action when it came to diverting conversation away from a difficult topic. He’d done his bit of sharing now, he thought. That box was ticked.

Hermione shook her head again to throw her curls back into place. Of course he couldn't have a serious conversation for more than a few minutes. Perhaps a jinx to make him sober and quiet for a while would help. But he wouldn't have been who he was if he had been any less mercurial, even if it made trying to discuss anything important faintly ridiculous.

"I only provide my services for a select few," she answered, reaching over to pet Crookshanks and calm him down before he shredded Sirius' jeans. "And if you bollocks things up with Remus I may have to remove you from that list." Her light tone made it hard to tell just how much of that was teasing.

Sirius smiled as she reached over to pet the cat still curled in his lap, although it was a faint shadow of his usual wide grin. He wasn’t quite sure why the bloody animal seemed so attached to him - something about Peter and Padfoot and Hogwarts, as far as he could gather. But even though he maintained his insistence's that cats were tiny, furry incarnates of the devil, he was growing a little fond of the purring ginger idiot. Awkwardly, Sirius scratched Crookshanks behind the ears, looking up sharply with Hermione’s comment, attempting to look cocky and almost managing it.

“You could never knock me off the list,” he told her. “You think I’m infuriatingly adorable.” Which may or may not be true, but never mind. Then Sirius rolled his eyes and nudged Crookshanks off him so he could stand up, restlessly pacing over to lean against the sideboard. “Anyway, I can’t avoid ballsing things up when I don’t even know what... things are. I don’t want to hurt him.” Which suggested he would anyway, but wasn’t that the whole point?

Sirius glanced at the fridge, then pulled it open to peer curiously inside. He’d heard Sherlock sometimes kept heads in there. Where the bloody hell did a person get heads from, anyway?, was the next question his desperate-for-a-distraction brain spat out. Were they just kicking about? Because that was hardly hygienic.

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was more or less true, really, though she'd come to appreciate Sirius on his own terms rather than just as Harry's godfather. Crookshanks wandered over to wind round her ankles and she bent down to scratch under his chin, glad for the excuse to not watch the lanky man like a hawk for a moment. "Even I have my limits, Sirius." This really wasn't her area of expertise. Even if she apparently had a leg up on her friend in this case. "Just ask Harry." Or Ron, her mind supplied, but that wasn't something she wanted to discuss right now. This was about Sirius' problems.

The implication of his statement wasn't lost on her. "Perhaps you should try not to, then." It was like explaining things to a child. A particularly stubborn child. "I mean, what are the things that usually balls things up? What do you think would hurt him? Once you've identified those, do the opposite." She looked up with a smile. "Or you could always ask him." Because the direct approach was something Sirius loved.

"We don't have anything interesting in there at the moment, I'm afraid," Hermione added, looking past Sirius into the fridge. "Sherlock hasn't had the chance to raid the morgue in days, and even if he had I'd put a Freezing Charm on the damned things and leave them in his room." Not that that had prevented the detective from leaving things in the fridge. But it was very satisfying, in a petty sort of way.

“Why?” Sirius fixed Hermione with a ‘look’. “You better not have crossed my godson off your list at any point, Granger.” Because Harry may be forty and an Auror and more than capable of looking after himself, but that didn’t mean Sirius wouldn’t hex anyone who so much as looked at him in a way he didn’t like - Overprotective didn’t even begin to cover it. Which was much the same way he felt about Remus. Only… really not. Which didn’t do much to clear anything up and why couldn’t his stupid head just shut the fuck up?? It didn’t normally pipe up this much. What was with all the thinking all a sudden?

This was why he shouldn’t be stuck inside.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “I’m not asking him. He’ll try and make me talk about my feelings again or some bollocks, which is a can of worms no’ one needs to open.” Even though he’d managed to come here and very nearly give Hermione an honest answer when it came to how he felt. But Hermione wasn’t Remus, and that seemed to be the major issue. “I told him we should just… see how it goes. That counts as a plan, right? Rather than a crappy avoidance tactic?” Which is what it had been.

Sirius swung the fridge closed with a gentle thud. “Your roommate’s a bit on the freakish side,” he told her. “You should jinx the heads to sing to him. For comedy value.”

"Not like that," she said scathingly. "But he's seen me throw an entire flock of tiny birds at Ron's head because he was being an idiot." See? Relationships were hard. And so was getting men to discuss emotions with anything approaching honesty. Not that she was a model of that herself, but he'd come here to ask for her advice, and she would drag it out of him if she had to. "I wouldn't call it some bollocks. If you didn't have feelings for him, you wouldn't care what happened. You'd just sleep with him and carry on with your life, like all the other girls you have scattered about the city." Perhaps that came out rather sharper than she meant, but just flailing about wouldn't serve anybody.

And then she gave him a very flat glare. "That is one of the worst plans I've ever heard of, and that includes three eleven-year-old children deciding they can defeat Voldemort." All right, so they'd won, but it was still unimaginably stupid in a particularly Gryffindorish way. Hermione gave up on scolding him and spread her hands in a gesture of confusion. "I know you prefer improvisation, but Remus is - he's like me. Making it up as you go along isn't going to end well for either of you. Especially considering your usual methods - do you even know if he wants to be exclusive or not?" Heaven forbid they went forward without working that one out - she could imagine that Remus waking up to find some girl in Sirius' bed would only lead to bloodshed and Unforgivable Curses.

The comment about Sherlock made her raise an eyebrow. "You can turn into a dog, and he's the one that's freakish?"

“Really?” Sirius visibly perked up. “Can you teach me?” As far as he could see, there were only good things which could come from throwing birds at people, at least as far as he could see. Hilarity, for one. But then the conversation was back to something much more boring and much less about lobbing pigeons about. Which was a shame. Sirius groaned, letting his head roll back on his shoulders to give the ceiling a frustrated look. “He’s my best mate. I don’t want to lose him and have everything be all weird. I’d rather keep him as a mate than have… something else for a while and then have it all go tits up.”

When he looked back down and Hermione was giving him a knowing look. Sirius feigned insult. “Oi! That’s a good plan! It’s never failed me before! Much. That often. Shut up.” He slumped back, returning her glare stubbornly until she abandoned trying to tell him off. “And next time I see Harry I’m going to jinx him for being a very stupid child. In a loving way.”

“I did ask him!” Sirius pointed out, swinging himself up to sit on the kitchen worktop. “I asked him what he wanted and he just said ‘whatever I can give’. Which isn’t helpful.” Bloody Remus fucking Lupin. Too generous and careful and kind to actually ask Sirius for exactly what he wanted, leaving the animagus to make it up for himself. Which Sirius didn’t think was particularly wise of his friend. And Sirius really wasn’t very good at being exclusive. Not that he’d ever tried it. He’d never seen the appeal before.

Sirius pulled a face in Hermione’s direction, kind of wishing the subject would stay this light-hearted rather than switching between emotions like this. “There’s seven registered animagi kicking about at home!” he argued. “And, well… probably a load of unregistered. But I’ve never met anyone who kept heads in the fridge. House Elf heads on the wall, yes. But not human heads. In the fridge.”

"It doesn't really work that way," she countered. "You can try, but now that you know what you do you can't just go back to the way things used to be, being friends but nothing more. Not if you both feel this way." It certainly hadn't worked for her and Ron for their last few years of school; things had been incredibly, unbearably awkward when they tried to act as if they were still best friends and nothing had happened. And poor Harry had been stuck in the middle, watching them act like absolute idiots. "You'll know, and it will drive you mad."

Hermione stood up to begin fixing herself another cup of tea, refilling the kettle by hand to give herself something to do. "And it's a terrible plan and you know it. If he wants more than 'whatever you can give,' which I'm fairly certain he does going by what you've told me, maybe you should try to live up to that. It's that or put Veritaserum in his tea, and I don't think that's really a viable option." She looked over her shoulder. "Want a refill?"

House Elf heads on the wall seemed positively barbaric to her, and she shuddered faintly at the memory of Grimmauld Place. "It's for his scientific experiments. And I've gotten used to it, honestly. He's very odd, but then I think he finds me odd as well. And we both want John to be happy. So we do our best to keep the peace. A head in the fridge isn't going to drive me off." Wait, how had she ended up talking about her relationship? Not the time, Granger.

Sirius’ whole body tensed defensively, his expression suddenly hardening as he coiled his fingers around edge of the work-surface. “Who said we both feel that way?” he demanded. “I just don’t want to hurt him.” Backtracking slightly, perhaps, but Sirius was left with that unpleasant taste in the back of his mouth, left from when he’d let someone in too far and needed to dig himself out of the hole he’d created. Because he knew, really, how he felt about Remus, but it scared the shit out of him, made him so feel so cripplingly vulnerable it was rather pathetic and he was rather ashamed of himself. The eldest Black brother tilted his chin proudly, moving aside a little as Hermione began to make more tea.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Sirius watched her making the tea, avoiding the rest of her points like they carried a particularly nasty case of Dragon Pox, letting his own thoughts swim unpleasantly for a moment before crushing them back down. Then he grabbed onto the subject of Sherlock like a life raft.

“Don’t you think it’d be easier if you two got a place of your own?” he asked, “Without heads and another bloke hanging about? I mean, if I’d tried to steal James and Lily’s spare room in their first place I’d have got my head kicked in.” Sirius lifted an arched eyebrow, turning so he could lean on his forearms beside Hermione. Somewhere behind him, the cat made a low purring noise, causing Sirius to peer around at the creature over his shoulder. “Also, your cat’s properly metal.”

Just didn't want to hurt him? Hermione had learned a few things from Sherlock, including how to focus her glare as if it were a laser seeking out inconsistencies and untruths. That was the look she gave Sirius now. "I know it's a difficult habit to break, but perhaps you could try not being a total idiot for once," she suggested, getting their second round of tea ready. "Where's that vaunted Gryffindor courage?" Because yes, doing something like this was scary and required a leap of faith. But if Sirius thought he was so bloody brave, then he could damn well try. How had she become a cheerleader for this relationship?

His question made her shake her head immediately. "Sherlock would be ten thousand times worse if John had moved in with me at the start. He only barely tolerates me taking up John's time as it is, and if I'd stolen his best friend, things would have gotten ugly. And honestly it's not that bad. He's interesting, and he's a necessary condition of having any sort of relationship with John. If you can't beat them, join them, right?"

Bloody hell. Sirius looked up and Hermione was apparently trying to kill him with just a glare and a shitload of willpower. For a moment she reminded him a hell of a lot of McGonagall when she was trying to work out if it was him done something or if he was just trying to cover for the others, trying to stare the truth out of him. So he dealt with it the same way, with a cocky, challenging grin shot cheekily in her direction as she messed about with the tea. “Is baiting me about not having any courage a good idea in the middle of an alien invasion, I wonder?”

He chuckled a little at the comment about Sherlock, dropping her gaze again in favour of the tiled floor and his own slightly muddy boots against it. “Still seems like he could use a good hexing to get the stick out his arse. I’m happy to provide.” That was more or less his view on most people who, in his opinion, took things a little too seriously. He may have fought a war, but where it beat some people into the earth, it only made Sirius cling even harder to the things he’d known, to jokes and making fun. To his friendships, making sure they didn’t change, that he couldn’t lose them.

Sirius reached out for his tea, taking the scalding cup from where Hermione was finished with it. “You been okay casting the wards against Tocla-whatsits?” he checked. “Heads in the fridge can’t be that much help with those. Unless there’s a shit dark potion I haven’t heard of.” It was easy enough, diverting topics of conversation away from himself. Half the reason Sirius had always been so charming when the mood struck him.

"Fair enough," Hermione conceded, somewhat rueful. "And I'd have no room to talk in that case." Because she'd certainly been out being reckless, and all the claims about scientific inquiry wouldn't save her if she was a moment too slow and the Toclafane got her. She shrugged and gave Sirius a glance that had less irritation and more sympathy behind it. "You don't think he's been harassed enough over his lifetime for being brilliant and a bit weird? It's not easy to grow up like that." In some ways she respected Sherlock tremendously for not compromising who he was simply to make other people more comfortable. They had more in common than either of them ever admitted.

"We've been fine here," she acknowledged, lifting her own tea to her lips and blowing over the top to cool it. "But then, I already had the flat fairly heavily warded before they showed up. Force of habit." Maybe a slightly paranoid force of habit, but as she'd already lived through one war and her flatmates were enemies of a man who'd likely blown up an entire floor of one building, she didn't feel it was overkill." It's the buildings as a whole that I'm worried about. With the amount of stress they're under, and so few of us here..." Hermione trailed off, squinting at her tea. Divination was rubbish but she was starting to get desperate for an answer as to when this might be over.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow, because Sirius and James had been the reason many people at school with them had been harassed for being brilliant and a bit weird. They’d hardly been normal themselves, but they’d been clever and good-looking and rich, not to mention bloody loud and charming, and popular enough to be at the very top of the social ladder. And they’d taken complete advantage of that fact. But that wasn’t something he was about to point out, so for once he took the easier route and just stayed quiet, lifting the tea to take a sip and hide what may have been a smirk.

“Paranoooid,” Sirius announced in a sing-song voice, grinning cockily across at the girl beside him. Of course, he’d been brought here in the middle of the war, and his battle-zone of a flat back home had been warded up to the eyebrows and back, especially once they’d learned Voldemort was after James and Lily. But that wasn’t the point. The point was he liked poking casual fun at Hermione, and this was a pleasant alternative to the ‘Remus and Sirius’ conversation.

“We’ve held up so far,” he announced, “No reason they should fall if we keep recasting them. And they’re pretty strong wards. You know how well they worked around Hogwarts and Grimmauld place.” His Mother would probably have a fit if she knew her sons had been using her precious muggle-repelling spells to keep said muggles safe. It’d probably be quite amusing to see her reaction. As long as he could apparate away quick enough once the hexes started flying. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Stupid question, but teamed with an arrogant, charming smile and so much self confidence it was almost believable.