Chapter 1: Something Lost

Hermione grimaced as she inspected the dust covered rag that Mrs. Weasley had given her to clean the gaudy bookcases lining the Black family library. Ever since she had arrived at Grimmauld Place the matriarch of the Weasley family had set all the children to work cleaning the various rooms that were now part of the Order's headquarters. Dropping the rag, she wiped her hands on the backs of her jeans. She had been in the library for the past hour dusting bookcases to try and pass the time before some of the Order members returned from retrieving Harry. When she picked the rag back up, something caught her eye on the top shelf. A thick, black leather bound book was slightly sticking out from the others. After staring at the book for a

couple seconds, curiosity got the better of her and she reached out to grab it ignoring the warning Sirius had given her about some of the books being cursed against muggleborns. She paused just before her fingers grazed the book's spine. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably and her head suddenly felt heavy.

Hermione had been having 'episodes' (as she so eloquently referred to them) for as long as she could remember. Her stomach would twist into knots, her head would fill with cotton balls, and her heart would contract slightly in her chest. She never knew when it was going to happen and, because she didn't know what caused it, she could never prepare for it. Whenever it happened Hermione always felt like she was driving through fog at night without any idea where she was or where she was going. It was incredibly frustrating and every time it happened it made her want to pull her hair and stomp her feet.

Her most recent episode happened the first day she arrived at Grimmauld Place. She was walking through the hallway with Tonk's, when the auror tripped and knocked over an umbrella holder. Hermione was going to make a sarcastic comment about Tonk's superb ability to trip over air but she was interrupted by the portrait of Walburga Black. "Mudblood! Filth! In my home! Get out! Get out!" It took Remus and Sirius fifteen minutes (and a string of curse words) to get the curtains shut, putting an end to the witch's pure blood rant. The entire time Hermione could do nothing but stand there as Walburga screamed and yelled every derogatory name she could think of at the fifteen-year-old girl. Hermione reflexively reached out to her right, hoping to feel the soft fabric of a cotton t-shirt but when her fingers felt nothing except air, she suddenly felt embarrassment mixed with a tightness in her stomach. She didn't expect anyone to be there for her to grab onto. Why had she reached out? She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice Remus and Sirius watching her intently and glancing sideways at each other. When she snapped out of her thoughts Hermione quickly excused herself and ran for the bedroom she now shared with Ginny.

Her episodes always seemed to be accompanied by some action or urge she couldn't explain, and they almost always involved Harry. When she had thought that Sirius and Remus wanted to kill Harry in their third year she didn't think before placing herself between him and the people she thought wanted to hurt him. When Harry's name was called out of the goblet last year she felt the urge to jump out of her seat, pull him into her side and demand Dumbledore find a way to get him out of the tournament. When Harry didn't know what to do about asking a girl to the Yule Ball she felt as though there was someone she needed to tell her best friend to talk to, but the name of that someone never formed in her mind. When she saw Harry clutching Cedric's lifeless body on the quidditch pitch she didn't think, she just ran down to the field to hold him. She remembered being filled with the suffocating need to make sure he was really there. That he was really okay.

She was too scared to tell anyone about her episodes because she thought they would call her crazy or accuse her of having romantic feelings for her best friend. But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Yes, she had always been protective of Harry, but that need to protect him had never come from a place of romantic feelings. That she was sure of.

A loud bang and a muffled exclamation let her know that Tonk's and the others had returned from retrieving Harry from his awful relatives. Her chest loosened and she left the library behind as she flew down the stairs. When she saw Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione couldn't help but launch herself at her best friend. Harry staggered slightly under the sudden impact but wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her middle. She could feel his chest vibrating softly and smiled to herself, happy she had made him laugh. They pulled apart and Hermione was able to look at all of him.

He had grown since she last saw him and he was in desperate need of a haircut. His black hair was sticking up every which way and falling over his warm brown eyes. His clothes were two sizes too big and his glasses were being held together by masking tape.

"You can't go one summer without snapping your glasses in half, can you?" She asked with a laugh as she reached up to brush the tape lightly with her fingertips. Harry shrugged and returned her smile while pushing his hair off his face.

"I thought I heard my cousin crashing around out here!" exclaimed someone at the top of the stairs.

Both her and Harry looked up to see Sirius smiling fondly down at his godson. Harry's face broke into a huge grin and Hermione moved out of the way so he could embrace the only family he had left. With that last thought, her heart contracted painfully in her chest and she felt overwhelming sadness wash over her. Her hand flew to her chest before she could stop it.

Sirius caught her eye as he looked over his godson's shoulder and cocked his head to the right. He looked as though he was trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle without having all the pieces. Hermione turned away from the older man's questioning gaze and studied the old, cracked banister.

"I'm going to go see if Mrs. Weasley needs any help with dinner." Hermione informed the two without looking up. She descended the rest of the staircase but not before squeezing Harry's arm and promising to catch up after dinner.

In the kitchen Hermione slowly and methodically chopped up carrots for Mrs. Weasley's beef stew. She couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the way she felt when she saw Harry hugging his godfather. She was extremely thankful for Sirius. Even though most of the time Hermione had to stop herself from hitting him on the back of head, Harry always lit up around the older man. Harry had finally found a piece of his family. Someone who made him feel close to the parents he never had a chance to know.

After watching Harry laugh his way through dinner as Sirius and Remus shared a highly amusing story about a drunk sixth year James and a broom, (which was cut short when Mrs. Weasley told the marauders to stop glorifying underage drinking) Hermione, Ron, and Harry went upstairs. The three fifth years sat together on one of the beds in the room Harry and Ron would be sharing for the remainder of their time at Grimmauld Place. They listened as Harry told them what had happened in Little Whinging.

"A dementor?" Hermione gasped. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Hermione." Harry waved her off and continued his story. "There's going to be a trial. I used magic in front of a muggle. I could get my wand snapped." His voice had become sullen and his eyes downcast.

"Harry," Hermione reached out put his hands between her own. "that won't happen. Dumbledore will not let that happen. I won't let that happen. If you hadn't used magic you and your cousin wouldn't be here right now."

When Harry didn't look up she reached out and put both her hands on the sides of his face. Harry looked up at her with his dark brown eyes.

"You did the right thing. You did what any decent person would have done and if the ministry can't see that then to hell with them!"

Harry and Ron stared at her for a few moments before bursting into laughter. Hermione watched them laugh for a time before finally getting fed up and rising from her spot on the bed. She was glad to see Harry laughing, but she was trying to make a point and clearly both boys had missed it.

Harry caught her arm as she rounded the bed on the way to the door. "Thank you." His voice was sincere and Hermione sat back down next to him. "I just never thought there'd be a day when I heard Hermione Granger curse the ministry." Harry and Ron continued to chuckle

lightly and she felt compelled to join them.

"But in all seriousness," Hermione started again once they had settled down. "the ministry is too scared to face the truth and this 'trial' is just a way to try and discredit you. Don't worry so much. We'll be on our way to Hogwarts soon enough."

They quickly finished talking about Harry's upcoming trial and moved onto lighter topics. Ron asked them who they thought Dumbledore had picked to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and soon all three of them had placed their bets. Hermione bet three sickles that their new professor wouldn't know how to duel. Harry bet a galleon that they would know how to duel but wouldn't be able to properly execute a body bind jinx. And Ron bet fifteen knuts that they would be less stupid than Lockhart, but as mad as Moody a.k.a Barty Crouch Jr.

Soon after placing their bets Mrs. Weasley came to tell the three that it was time for bed. Hermione went back to her room and found Ginny passed out buried under her covers. She had been sharing a room with Ginny for the last week. The younger girl had been preoccupied with writing back and forth to Dean Thomas. The two had hit it off at the end of last year and had been writing each other all summer. Her first night at Grimmauld Place Ginny spent all night talking her ear off about Dean. Hermione was happy Ginny was finally moving on from her borderline obsessive crush on Harry.

After putting on her pajamas she decided to go downstairs for a glass of water before getting into bed. Half way down the stairs she heard two hushed voices coming from the kitchen. Hoping she'd overhear something from the Order meetings she and the others weren't allowed to attend, she crept quietly toward the half open kitchen door. Sirius and Remus sat across from each other at the table with two glasses of amber liquid in front of them. A half empty bottle of fire whiskey was open nearby.

"It's been fifteen years, Sirius." Remus said exasperated. "We don't even know if it worked. Messing with time is dangerous. For all we know he could be floating around in some alternate reality."

"You don't really believe that." Sirius countered. "You saw what happened when my monster of a mother started screaming at her. She reached for him, Remus. You saw it!"

Hermione was right. They had noticed.

"We knew she would have echoes of her old life. Dumbledore told us this from the beginning. Until she sees him she won't remember. She probably doesn't even realize she's doing it." Sirius opened his mouth but Remus continued to take over him. "This was the plan from the beginning. They wanted their son to have someone by his side for the rest of his life and they succeeded. I know you want it to mean something; that he's close to coming back. I wish it were true but we need to stop holding on to something that may never happen!"

Sirius downed the last of his fire whiskey and poured himself another glass. Hermione could see his eyes glistening as he took another drink. Remus was in no better shape. She could tell he was trying to be logical but every word that came out of his mouth looked like it was tearing him apart.

"I miss them." Sirius admitted staring blankly at the space behind Remus's head.

"I miss them too." Remus stared down at the liquid in his glass before knocking it back.

Hermione's head was spinning. Who were they talking about? What was the plan? What did this had to do with her? She slowly backed away from the door careful not to alert the two sullen men to her presence. Once she got to the bottom of the staircase she turned and ran quickly up to her room. When her foot landed on the tenth step, a creak echoed through the house. Hermione froze for a half second before breaking into a run and not stopping until she made it safely to her room.

Once in her room she dove for her bed and laid as still as possible not daring to do anything but listen to her heart hammering in her chest. Ten minutes passed before Hermione allowed herself to relax enough to try and process what she had heard. She replayed the conversation over and over in her mind but she couldn't make sense of anything she heard. She needed more information.

Questions ran through her mind in a continuous loop as she tossed and turned. She had been so consumed by the thoughts running around in her head that she was startled when Ginny got out of bed and began to get ready for the day. Hermione grimaced and rolled over pulling the covers with her. After a night of obsessing and analyzing she was exhausted. She needed answers. And sleep.