Chapter Text
It was the same dream. The same voice. Sibilant and devoid of emotion. Repeating itself over and over as flashes of light from the wands of Death Eaters filled the air. “Stun the girl. She may prove useful.”
Ducking and dodging the beams of red until her breath came in heavy pants. Hiding behind gravestones, heart pounding hard enough that she feared it would burst. Phoenix song melding with his hissing voice, the exploding sound of headstones shattering as spell after spell made contact, a sharp counterpoint to the melody rising behind her. “She may prove useful.”
Light. Blinding, blistering light.
Hermione woke gasping for breath, sweat matting her hair to her head and soaking the sheets that tangled around her in the night. At least this time she hadn’t screamed, she thought to herself as she fumbled for her wand. A quick lumos revealed the still sleeping form of Ginny on the bed across the room. Fortunately the silencing ward she had cast around her bed had held.
Standing on slightly unsteady feet, Hermione efficiently remade her bed and dried the sheets with a few well placed flicks of her wand and murmured words. She made a mental note to start practicing wordless spells tomorrow. Beyond the benefits in dueling, it would make getting up in the middle of the night easier if she didn't have to worry about waking her current roommate. Hermione was thankful for the strong wards and a house filled with of age adults that allowed her to perform underage magic. It irked her to no end knowing that The Trace mostly targeted muggleborns and those who lived in less magical areas. Here with so many adults using magic daily it would be next to impossible for the Ministry to determine who was casting what without examining every wand present. It would make preparing for classes next fall much easier. Not to mention, being allowed to practice magic made maintaining the secret of her nightmares a walk in the park.
Living in Grimmauld Place for the summer, was something she had never anticipated after the end of the Triwizarding Tournament. Of course, the reemergence of Voldemort into the wizarding world had not been high on her list of possible outcomes of the blighted event either.
Creeping out of the bedroom, Hermione made her way to the kitchen casting a tempus charm to check the time. Shortly after two in the morning. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. Reaching the landing she said a short prayer that Lady Walburga Black would continue to remain silent in her presence. It was the oddest thing. Anytime one of the Weasleys passed by the portrait, hidden in an alcove by the stairs, would scream a slew of profanity and slander at the red headed tribe until the curtains hanging before the portrait could be pulled shut. Yet whenever Hermione darted pass, nothing. Not a peep. Sirius thought that maybe having a muggleborn residing in the house was enough to leave his mother in stunned silence. Remus remained of the opinion that the old bat refused to sully herself with even screeching at someone she considered less. The Weasley brood’s theories ranged the gamut from plausible (Molly and Arthur) to outlandish (George and Fred). Hermione herself didn’t care so long as she could slip quietly at night into the kitchen and library without waking the entire household.
Another quirk of the Black ancestral home resided in the kitchen. Kreacher. Hermione had been warned that the house elf had been thoroughly brainwashed by his late mistress’s ideals and would likely be rude and disrespectful. Surprisingly, to all those living under the roof, Kreacher acted almost deferential in his treatment of her. The expected mutterings of mudblood and other derogatory statements had yet to make an appearance in the week since Hermione had moved in. In fact every night that Hermione would seek sanctuary in the library after a nightmare, Kreacher could be found waiting with a tea tray ready to serve. She’d been putting off asking about the odd behavior from the house elf, not entirely sure she’d like the answers found. There were more important things to worry about than the behavioral patterns of a house elf.
Reaching the kitchen, it was no surprise to find the house elf in question waiting with a cup of tea prepared just the way she like it.
“Miss not sleep?” Kreacher asked worriedly as he handed over the fine china, steaming curling from it’s contents.
“Not tonight I’m afraid. Thank you for the tea Kreacher. I’m sorry you’re missing your own bed because of me.”
“It is no trouble Miss. Kreacher is happy to serve the House of Black. May Kreacher suggest asking the black robed one for the potion that puts Miss to sleep? Kreacher heard Faithless Master and his Wolf talking this morning. Black Robes and the Spectacled Cat be visiting again tomorrow.”
It took Hermione a moment to realize Kreacher was talking about Professors Snape and Mcgonagall. “If it comes down to it Kreacher I’ll brew it myself. Isn’t there a potions lab in the basement? Do you think Sirius would let me use it?”
“Yes, Miss. Late Master Regulus’s own lab. Miss can use. Kreacher will clean it especially for Miss,” Kreacher eagerly responded.
Hermione hastened to assure the house elf that any additional cleaning wouldn’t be necessary, not wanting to create more work for him. “No, no, no. I’m sure if needed I can manage, Kreacher. There may be old ingredients that need disposed of properly. I’ll ask tomorrow about it I promise. Thank you again for the tea. Why don’t you head to bed? There’s no reason for both of us to be tired tomorrow.”
“Yes Miss. Goodnight Miss. Miss be calling Kreacher if Miss needs anything.” And with that final admonition, Kreacher apparated away with a slight crack. Hermione was slowly getting over the biases that had fueled S.P.E.W. Having the bond between elves and wizarding families finally explained in detail had done much to quell her ire over what she had seen as the enslavement of an entire race. In reality the bond between an elf and their family boosted the elves innate magical abilities. The better cared for family, the stronger the elf. It was a truly symbiotic relationship.
“You’ve bewitched my house elf Hermione. I can’t even get him to come when I call for him half the time, and here he is, waiting up just to make you a spot of tea. What’s your secret?”
Jumping at the unexpected voice, Hermione turned to see Sirius lounging in the kitchen doorway. To Hermione’s eyes, the time spent living under an actual roof with meals that weren't hastily nicked from some unsuspecting witch's larder had done the animagus a world of good. No longer skin and bones, Sirius had filled out his lean muscles a bit and lost some of the haunted look in his eyes. Hermione surmised the latter, at least, had to do with one former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor if the lingering glances and touches between the two were any indication. It was good to see him on the mend after what must have been a horrible two years on the run.
As Sirius moved into the room to make himself a cup of tea, Hermione finally broke out of her daze to answer him. “If I knew I’d tell you.,” she shrugged, thoughts of why the house elf in question had taken such a liking to her swirling through her head. “What are you doing up anyway? Don’t you have some important meeting tomorrow that us children aren't supposed to know about? You should be sleeping.” Hermione grinned cheekily up at Sirius.
“I could say the same for you, cub,” Sirius retorted clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Up again to raid the library? Or is something plaguing that big brain of yours?” he asked shrewdly.
Hermione felt his eyes piercing through the dim light provided by gas lamps set to low. “What can I say? The Black Library is filled with books that not even the Restricted Section at Hogwarts has, and I don’t need a permission slip to access them,” she deflected, latching on to the plausible excuse for her late night wanderings. Anything to avoid talking about the nightmare that haunted her every sleeping moment.
“Well, don’t stay up too late. Your presence is needed tomorrow, we have a lot to discuss and even more to accomplish.” With that pronouncement, Sirius downed the rest of his drink and headed for his bed, a final “Goodnight cub,” tossed in his wake.
Wondering at the cryptic statement, Hermione picked up the tea service left for her and headed to the library. There was no point in wasting the night when there were books to be read.
The Black Library was magnificent in spite of the signs of neglect that permeated the room. Tall bookshelves mostly filled to the brim with books and tomes, they towered along the walls, silent sentinels of knowledge. Dusty couches that were deceptively opulent, their rather plain looks belying the comfort provided. Deep seated armchairs perfect for curling up in near the hearth of an ornate fireplace. Frankly, Hermione thought it one of the better kept rooms in the entire household. The entirety of Grimmauld Place stank of decay and Dark magics. Hermione hoped that one of the talking points at the meeting later that day would be the state of the building with an eye to making it more hospitable. The large property was too much for a single house elf to have kept up for over a decade.
When she and the Weasleys had first arrived at Sirius and Remus’s request it had taken the better part of the day to make a few rooms livable. Namely the kitchen, a few bedrooms and bathrooms. The state of the house was appalling and not fit for human residence. Hermione knew there had to have been a reason behind her summons, but so far none of the adults had been forthcoming with answers. Hopefully tomorrow she would find out the reason behind the invitation. Logically, Hermione thought it had to do with the return of Voldemort. There was safety to be found in numbers after all. Of course, the hushed whisperings she had noticed between the adult members of the household indicated that far more was going on than met the eye.
Setting down the tea service on a low table near her newly found favorite armchair, Hermione ambled over to the thick mahogany shelves lining the walls, her fingers ghosting over the spines, plucking out books at random as she went.
Hermione wasn’t sure what she looking for. As happy as she was with a book and a spot in front of a fire, she had questions that needed answers. Her problem though was tied up in the fact that she had no idea where to start looking for them. There was a reason Voldemort hadn’t truly died the night he attacked the Potters. There was a reason he had haunted the living as a wraith until his return almost a month ago. But even with the Black library filled as it was with knowledge on obscure magics she still needed a direction in which to search.
Returning to what Remus had started dubbing “her” chair, Hermione summoned parchment and a self-inking quill and started making a list. If she was expected to attend Sirius’s gathering tomorrow she was going to make a dent in her search for answers. Maybe Professor Snape would have some ideas for her. If she could get him to talk to her without sneering that was.
The night passed quickly for Hermione. All too soon, sounds of shuffling and pans banging on the stove could be heard from the kitchen. Molly or Remus was awake. They were the only ones to ever rise with the sun. Stifling a yawn, Hermione stood and stretched out the kinks from her late night studying. She decided a cup of coffee was in order before getting ready to face the day. Making quick work of putting everything back in it’s place, she levitated the tea tray in front of her and went to see which of the two early birds had woken first.
It was Remus.
“May the gods of caffeine always smile upon you, Professor.” Hermione stated as she set her dirty dishes to wash themselves and started pouring herself a cup of the already half empty coffee pot. Ignoring the look of concern he gave her, she practically inhaled the first cup, it’s heat stinging a little on the way down.
“Did you get any sleep, cub?” Remus questioned her as she doctored her second cup heavily with cream and sugar. A habit picked up from her mother, the first cup of coffee in the morning was always black and bitter, the second light and sweet.
“Nope. I lost track of time. I’ll go to bed early tonight to make up for it.” Hermione felt guilty for lying to Remus, but it was better than the alternative of questions she didn’t feel like answering. She would deal with her sleeplessness on her own, there was no point in making a fuss when there were other, more important things to worry about. Her nightmares could wait. Lord Voldemort could not.
Attempting to divert the subject Hermione asked, “So what time are Professors Mcgonagall and Snape arriving? I’m assuming this has to do with the return of Voldemort. Or possibly with Harry? I’m assuming at some point this summer he’ll be coming here? Surely getting him away from those awful Dursleys should be a priority. Oh. And what about Sirius? Has anyone come up with a way to clear his name? I was doing some research last night about just that. There is some precedence for using pensieve memories as testimony, and with his immediate incarceration without trial, it may be possible to convince the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to at least consider giving him a proper trial.”
“Hermione. Take a breath. We’re working on that and I promise we will go everything later today. Sirius and I have no intention of letting Harry stay at the Dursleys for a second longer than needed. We also have no intention of leaving you in the dark about the measures needed to be taken against Voldemort. Now. Finish your drink cub and go get ready. Breakfast will be done in about twenty minutes. If you hurry, you may just beat the ravening hordes of locusts.” Remus admonished, momentarily distracted from Hermione’s all night study session.
“All right. I’m going. And please tell Ron not to eat everything in sight if I’m not back in time. Who needs a plague of locusts when you have him around?”