In Silence Sealed

Chapter One

The human heart has hidden treasures,

In secret kept, in silence sealed;

The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,

Whose charms were broken if revealed.

Remus stopped still, ankle deep in a snowbank. "Really, James? Could you be any more cliche?"

The Hog's Head's sign creaked ominously in the wind. The shingled roof was draped in snow, seeming to slope under the weight, and long icicles jutted from the eaves; hints of gold gleamed through the frosted window panes. The door to the inn slammed open as a hooded figure hurried into the cold, eyes averted as he rushed passed.

Sirius rubbed his hands for warmth as he watched him go. "Gotta say, mate. This is shaping into one of your shittier surprises."

"Yeah, well, not all gifts fly in by owl, Sirius." James said mysteriously, a knowing smile on his face. He was vibrating with energy, a manic excitement in his eyes. "And I didn't set up the meeting place, Moony. Can't say I disapprove of the atmosphere, though."

Sirius hoped they'd gotten him something illegal, and that's why they'd made him hike out here. But it was also possible they were just yanking his chain- he didn't trust that self-satisfied look on Moony's face. He snorted, pinning them with shrewd eyes and a knowing smirk, "I'll play along, but I expect this to be good."

"I swear, Pads, we're not-" James started laughing, "We're not taking you for a ride."

Remus gave James a long suffering look, and Peter tried to hide his giggles with a cough.

"We really did get you something." James assured, "It's, uh, it's really… Shit, I can't think of another one."

"It'll really rev your engine?" Peter assisted.

James snapped his finger and pointed approvingly. "Nice one, Pete!"

"Subtle, too." Remus deadpanned. "So are we going to meet your man inside, or-?"

Sirius, who had been looking more and more suspicious as the conversation went on, tilted his head and listened towards the sky. He could hear a rumbling in the distance, low and constant. "The hell is that? Do you hear it?" A small black speck cleaved the clouds, dark against the silver sky. Death Eaters? It couldn't be, not in Hogsmeade in broad daylight. It descended, getting louder and closer, until he could finally make out it's shape. "Is that a…?"

James' smile split his face in two. He stretched his hands out, fingers waggling. "Surprise!" He shouted.

The two hooded men in the corner stood up and shook hands, their shady deal done. The taller man tightened his grip on his friend's fingers and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"...waiting… longer… trust… your lord…"

The other man yanked back his hand, cradling it to his chest like he'd been burned by a fire. The tall man chuckled, a slithering sound, and motioned for the door. The friend, no- the pawn, the associate, one of them- backed away, over turning his chair in his great haste, and rushed for the exit. The windows shook as the door slammed open.

Aberforth took his dirty rag to the pewter flagon, unimpressed by the scene, and Hermione held in a sigh. The door was pinned open by the wind so she pulled it shut and melted the snow that had drifted in with the draft.

On the far side of the room the hooded man had reseated himself. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze, expecting and… amused. She warily made her way across, propping the chair back up and moving to take the empty mug on the table. She heard the telltale swish of sliding cloth and felt her muscles go taut on instinct.

His hand alighted on hers, cool and solid. She tensed, but she didn't pull away, not yet. She stared into the hood, at the black hole of his face, and told herself she was unafraid. "Yes?" She said cooly.

"You don't belong here." He said it strangely, less like a threat and more like an acclaim. Hermione didn't say anything to that- he was right, after all. After an overlong moment he pulled his hand away, his teeth a pearly gleam in the candlelight. He rolled a half-hand of sickles onto the table. "For your trouble." And for your silence.

She pocketed the money as he left. He politely tucked his chair in before heading up the stairs towards his rented room. Aberforth was still behind the bar, still pretending to polish his flagons, but there was a knowing look in his eyes as he watched her, and a steely set to his shoulders.

"You need a break?" He asked gruffly.

She sighed, a weary smile sneaking onto her face. "No one's here, Aberforth."

He glared. "So what? Would you rather clean?"

No one ever cleaned here. He got annoyed when she even tried. She shook her head. "No, I'll go in the back. Thank you. Let me know when someone comes in."

"I've been taking care of this place by myself since before you were born."

She smiled, but didn't have the energy to laugh. "I know you have, very well."

"Get back there and stop patronizing me." He growled.

"I love you, all of you. So much."

"I know."

"I could kiss you."

"Please don't." Remus said with a smirk. He leaned Sirius' new motorbike under the eaves, casting notice-me-not charms on it to keep it safe.

"Speak for yourself." James exclaimed. He tapped his cheek expectantly, fluttering his eyelashes. Sirius lobbed a snowball at him instead.

They were all laughing when they entered the Hog's Head, James wiping his glasses dry with his cloak sleeve. They took a seat in the near corner and Remus lit the guttered candle with his wand. When James saw the blur on the windows he wiped his glasses again, before realizing it had nothing to do with his vision and everything to do with housekeeping.

"God, this place is a wreck. How hard is it to cast some cleaning charms?" Sirius said, sounding more excited by this than he should. He stared gleefully at the grumpy barkeep and the collection of dingy bottles behind him. He could practically see his mother standing behind him, glaring at him and his surroundings with fury. The very idea filled him with… something. Pride, probably. "You don't think he'll snitch on us, do you?"

"He might if you keep complaining so loudly." Remus said.

"Right, right. So where are we going to keep her until the hols? I don't think she'll fit under my bed."

"Her?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Hagrid said he'd let us keep it in his shed 'til we can take it to my house." James explained. With a cheeky smile he added, "I promised we'd let him try it out."

"Try her out, you mean..." Peter said slyly.

"Hey!" Sirius slapped his hand on the table, his mouth stern but his eyes laughing. "She's a beautiful lady, Pete, and she deserves to be spoken of with re-" He trailed off, distracted by the appearance of a real beautiful lady.

She slid out from the backroom, arms held high as she pulled back a riot of brown curls from her face. She was small, fine boned, with dark eyes framed with darker lashes. With her arms held aloft like that he could easily trace the slender line of her throat, down, down, towards the hollow of her collarbone and the swell of her-

Remus smacked him upside the head. Then, in true Remus fashion, he turned his head to the pair behind the bar and flashed a mother-approved smile. The man looked like he couldn't care less, glaring at the four of him like his job depended on it, and the woman… She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

She lowered her arms, dark eyes wide and sad and a little scared. The coils of her hair were already springing loose from their tie. She shook her head and slowly backed away, behind the door and far from view.

"You've really got a way with the ladies, Pads." James said dryly.

Sirius blinked, pulling away from his thoughts. Something about that girl had unsettled him, and he didn't think he liked it. "Better than you." He shot back.

"Excuse you. I have a girlfriend. The most beautiful, most intelligent, most-!"

"And there's my queue to leave." Remus heaved himself off his chair and angled for the bar. "I'm guessing you all want the usual?"

Hermione sat on a barrel of mead, head between her knees, breathing in her nose and out her mouth. When she could no longer feel her heart pounding between her ears she sat up and assessed the situation.

She'd handled that poorly. That hadn't been the first time she'd run into people she'd known, and it wouldn't be the last. She could not afford to have a panic attack every time. But he had looked so much like Harry, and when he'd looked at her his eyes had been wrong and-

-and it was like no time had passed at all, like her heart was freshly bleeding; like she was newly alone and she wasn't used to this already.

She stood up and pinched her cheeks, pushing the color back into her face. She needed to be stronger than this. She simply had to be. Straightening her robes and steeling her face she walked out again into the light.

The four boys were in their corner, hunched over and laughing. Aberforth was pouring the last of their order into a questionably clean mug. He looked up when he saw her, but he didn't ask the obvious question, and she was grateful for that.

"I'll take those to the table for you."

"...Suit yourself."

The mugs were set firmly on the table. Sirius looked up -either to say thank you or to say something smart, he hadn't decided yet- but his brain stopped working when he looked into dark eyes. She was even prettier up close, which was an accomplishment he wished to congratulate her on, but there was still something very off about her.

She just looked so sad, and somehow fragile, and quite honestly he was thinking way too deeply about this so he said the first thing that came to mind which was, "Do you have a bezeor?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He leaned forward, chin propped up in palm. "-Because I think someone slipped me a love potion."

There were several ways that could have gone, some of them quite bad, but he'd managed to wrangle some semblance of a smile out of her. Only a semblance, though, since there was something off about it like there was something off about all of her.

She looked to him, down his arm and to the table. She took a quick, steadying breath, and then she looked at him again and didn't so much as glance at the others. "Does that ever work for you?" She asked with just the littlest nibble of reproach.

Remus made a small, strangled sound that Sirius recognized as a laugh. He grinned winningly and said, "I don't know, is it working now?"

She shook her head, smile slowly fading. "No, sorry. Better luck next time, I suppose. Enjoy your drinks." She forced out a one-note laugh and turned away, and that's when he recognized it.

That was him. She was like him, like how he used to be, before he'd got his friends and the fight in him. Suddenly it was like everything she did sucked him back to the past- the too-careful cut of her gait; the hiding shrink in her shoulder; the way her smile was real but it wasn't quite right; and most of all it was the way she couldn't even fucking meet his eyes without forcing herself to.

He wondered what had been done to her, and when. Gods, was there was always going to be bad things happening to lonely people? Try as he might -and he really did try- he could never forget what that was like. As he watched her walk away, everything impressed upon him how much she missing something.

It took him a moment to even realize they were laughing. James yanked on his arms and he looked back at them, startled. "C'mon, Sirius, cheer up. It's not the first time you've been turned down, and it won't be the last."

"Not like that, though." Peter wheezed, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. Sirius glared. It wasn't nearly that funny.

"She was very quick and polite about it." Remus defended.

"That's what made it so good!" Pete said, "Couldn't even get her to blush."

"Shut up, Pete, you couldn't pay a girl to go out with you." Sirius snapped. Peter colored and looked away, but didn't say anything in return. Figures. "...Did she seem alright to you?" He asked more calmly. He looked at Remus as he spoke, wondering if he'd seen it too. Remus was thoughtful like that.

Remus blinked, mulling it over a bit. "I don't know." He glanced over at the bar. The girl was sitting on one of the stools, reading a book. "I think she's just quiet?"

That wasn't it at all. But if he didn't notice, then why bother explaining? He steered the subject to safer spaces, back to the motorbike, the map, and how Professor Tatters hadn't yet realized he'd taken the test results.

It seemed to be forever, but in reality, it was less than an hour. She stared at the same page the entire time, trying not to listen to their conversation; trying not to remember what that togetherness was like, and why she didn't have it anymore.

The chairs scraped against the ground, the sound muffled by the filth on the floor. Hermione could hear them murmuring, quieter than before, until someone broke away and another person -Remus, she thought- shouted out, "Sirius, give it a rest!"

She didn't know what he was talking about until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked away from the page she'd never read and into gray eyes.

"I'm Sirius." He said.

I know, she wanted to say back.

He stared at her strangely and she realized she'd never replied. "I'm sorry, for, uh… Being a prat." He said awkwardly, ending it all with a toothy smile. From the way he spoke, she gathered he didn't apologize very often. She wondered why he thought he had to now.

In truth, Hermione had found it a little crass. But it had been Sirius, and he was alive, and he wasn't miserable. And frankly, she didn't have enough energy to be annoyed lately. Seeing him look guilty like this reminded her of Ron and that made her smile. "It's fine." She said truthfully.

She felt the cold wind sweep in through the door. "C'mon, Sirius, if we don't get back by dinner they'll notice we're gone." Said a voice she'd never heard before. She refused to look and see who. That was a hurdle for another day, perhaps even never.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Sirius shouted back. To her, he said, "Sorry, but what was your name again?"

She'd never told him.

One of the bells by the staircase rang. A guest upstairs needed something, and they only had one guest. Aberforth threw down his rag, "Helen, watch the bar, I'll go see what he needs." He said before storming up the stairs.

Sirius grinned. "Helen." He said slowly, savoring, saving it to mind. She nodded.

"Sirius!" This shout was distant. He turned back, but his friends were already outside and on their way.

"I'll see you later then!" He said, before turning on his heels and jogging away. His fingers caught the corner of the door as he left, and he almost shut it, but a gust of wind tore it right back open and stuck it to the wall.

She sighed, tired and wan, and walked over to close it. The wood was chilled, and it felt nice to lean her forehead against the grain. The cold made her feel clear headed, like she used to be, and there was strong comfort in a once-was.

"Which one was it?"

Hermione looked behind her at Aberforth. He stood on the guest side of the bar, staring at her with his bright blue eyes. "Whatever do you mean?" She asked.

His eyes narrowed behind his dingy spectacles. "I know what it looks like when a person's lost someone. It looks just like you did, over there, when you saw those boys in the corner. The only thing I don't know is which one you were looking at."

She turned her body to lean back against the door. She let the chill seep into her bones, down to the marrow. They stared at each other, and Hermione realized that for the past few weeks Aberforth hadn't really been looking at her, but through her, around her. But he saw her now. And she'd always seen him.

"The one with the glasses." Hermione whispered. Somehow saying it aloud made it more real, and she shivered.

He nodded and looked away, swallowing hard. His hands twitched for something to fiddle with; his rag was nearby and he scooped it up, rubbing thoughtless circles on the counter. "I don't know what my brother has you doing, but it isn't worth it." He said in a gruff voice. "You should go back home, back to France or wherever it is you bloody came from, and move on with your life. Albus can find someone else to do it."

"It has to be me." She said quietly.

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "No, it doesn't. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"I'm nineteen."

"Oh, you're nineteen? Well, my apologies then." He clenched his rag and turned to glare straight at her. "Look- maybe it has to be someone, but it doesn't have to be you."

"No… No, it has to be me." She said more strongly.

"Why?"

"I can't tell you."

That made him mad. She didn't blame him; his brother and his secrets. He turned away so she wouldn't see the red in his face.

"Fine. Fine! It has to be you." He sounded like he'd believe in Blibbering Humdingers before he believed in that. He sighed, and the fight went out of him along with the wind. "Go to sleep, Helen." He said gruffly. "I'll clean up down here."

The light was gone from outside, and Aberforth was lit by candle alone. There was something very lonely in the cast of his shadow; something bruised and tender that she recognized in herself. Hermione came to stand beside him. "You never clean anything." She chided.

He rolled his eyes again, mouthing something under his beard that looked a lot like 'uppity chit', but he seemed calmer nonetheless. "Well, it won't get any dirtier. Get to sleep, now. I mean it."

"I will. And… thank you."

Aberforth snorted and went back to circling the same spot on the counter with his filthy rag.

Yo. I'm here to fulfill your need for cheesy cliches and abuse the italics.

EDITED 3/12/17

Doing some spring cleaning on this fic! I pushed the first few chapters out without thinking too deeply about the future. Most of the changes are still just small stuff- dialogue edits, keeping Sirius' frame of mind consistent (Hermione's thoughts are so much cleaner, in more ways than one!), and typos. There are one or two scene edits, so if you've already read this fic once I'd give it another go around! Or not, it'll probably be fine...

And to any new readers: thank you for taking the time to get this far, and I hope you enjoy the rest!