Remember me

A/N: Well, it's been quite a while! Nearly two years now since I stopped writing fanfiction... And now I'm back with a ship I've grown to love with a passion: Sirius and Hermione. I just don't know why. Maybe because I love Sirius (and Gary Oldman... is it wrong if I think he's disturbingly hot?). This is my first Hr/SB fic, so please don't be too harsh on me. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: One solid proof that I don't own Harry Potter and co.: Sirius wouldn't be dead. And, you should want more; I could also say that Dumbledore wouldn't be dead, either. Besides, who'd want to own them, when you can be a happily and militantly delusional?

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"Guys, come over here," Ginny requested in a low voice, her head showing through a gap in the kitchen door. Harry and Ron glanced at each other over the chess board and stood up at the same time, going over to the sunlit kitchen. Number 12, Grimmauld Place, had been Harry's for over two years now, but only when he vanquished Voldemort –nearly a month ago- had he moved in, along with Hermione. Her parents had been murdered during the war, so he had offered his house and she had accepted.

What used to be a depressing household soon became a place for endlessly long celebrations and reunions. With the help of Hermione they both cleaned up the house, every last bit, and everything evidencing the dark past of the Blacks was thrown out and broken to pieces; and, when it came to Harry, burned. Not to mention that Kreacher's head was already hanging from the walls, along with its relatives (Hermione had forbidden Harry to perform very gruesome hexes on the elf, even though she hated it).

Oh well. One couldn't get everything they wanted.

"What's up?" Ron asked, taking a sip from a freshly opened butterbeer. Ginny sighed and Harry knew what was to come- he wondered if he should say what was on his mind. Lately (lately? Had it not been like this for a while now?), Hermione had been acting very strangely. She rarely spoke or laughed. And she had given up on her reading, which was a sure sign that things weren't doing so well. Also, she had quit her dream job in Flourish and Blotts, explaining that working in the library shop wasn't what she really wanted.

But that wasn't everything...

-Flashback-

It was either very late at night or very early in the morning when Harry was awoken by a loud sound, like someone slamming against a door or a wall. Immediately awake, he seized his wand and silently went out of his room into the dark hallway. "Lumos!" He whispered, and with much surprise and suspicion, discovered that someone had opened the last door of the hallway.

Sirius's bedroom door.

Harry swallowed at this. That door had not been opened since its owner had died... He walked towards the door and, for some reason, a knot formed in his throat. His godfather had slept in there... He wondered what he would be finding inside that room. Taking a deep breath he stood under the doorframe and lifted his wand to throw some light into the place.

"Hermione!"

His best friend was lying on his godfather's bed, seemingly asleep, clinging to the unused pillows for dear life. With widened eyes, Harry found himself speechless. His gasp, however, seemed to bring Hermione out of her funk. She mumbled something quite impossible to decipher.

"Hermione?" Harry managed to whisper, softly touching her shoulder.

"Haaaarryyyy..." She slurred, smiling widely. Something about that smile made Harry shiver. "I zidn't want to wake you up," she added, still smiling, not changing her foetal position, hugging the pillow that had been Sirius's. Was she drunk?

"C'mon, sweet. I'll take you to your room," Harry suggested. He really didn't want to be inside that room any longer.

"You... zound like him!" Hermione replied, making him raise his eyebrows.

"Like who?" Hermione started giggling madly at his question, burying her face in the pillow. Harry now raised one eyebrow at her bizarre outburst, but didn't say anything.

"Him!" She suddenly announced, pointing at the bedside table. Harry followed her index finger and illuminated the small bedside table. He gasped once more when he saw a dust covered picture resting against the wall. He walked over to it and shakily picked it up, blowing the dust off it. A fifteen year old Harry waved happily, for Sirius had his arm around his godson's shoulders. Suddenly the real Harry saw a detached arm in the picture, and Sirius seemed to notice it too: his grin grew and he pulled on the arm, making Hermione step into the picture, looking embarrassed. Sirius put his other arm around her shoulders too and Hermione grinned at this; finally waving too.

The real Harry swallowed the lump in his throat at this and slowly returned the picture to its rightful place; and as his wand moved, something glimmered. Harry frowned and lowered the tip of his wand...

A familiar two way mirror glowed eerily inside the room.

Okay, that was it. Enough. "C'mon, Hermione. Let's go to your room," Harry commanded, his voice a little bit higher that he had intended. Hermione had her eyes closed.

"No."

"Please, Hermione. Let's go." Harry hated the way his voice had made it sound like he was pleading. But wasn't he? Hermione turned over to look at him.

"Can I take ze pillow?" She asked in a soft voice. Harry quickly shook his head no.

"You'll get it tomorrow, okay? Now let's go." He retorted, offering her his hand. Hermione glanced at it and reluctantly took it.

"M'kay."

It felt like a breath of life, to Harry, to get out of that room. He was never going in there again. The walk to Hermione's room was pretty calm (maybe because she only heaved dangerously and didn't talk), and when they entered her room, she practically threw herself on her bed, rolled to her side, and stopped moving. Harry frowned and took a look at her bedside table, where a small plastic bottle rested. Checking to see if Hermione was still on her side, he picked it up to get a better look. There was a prescription note attached to it.

Rivotril

"Drink only one per night"

Harry's frown intensified. Rivotril? Why was she taking that kind of stuff? "Hermione, how many of these did you take?" He questioned his friend, who didn't answer anymore.

-End flashback-

The next morning, as he had breakfast, Harry supposed that the medicine had been the cause of her "drunkenness". When he asked her about it, she couldn't remember much. She had told him that she had had a nightmare and had wanted to go over Harry's room, but had gotten the wrong bedroom. She even seemed surprised about it; but her eyes had told him something else.

It was Ginny's voice that broke his reverie this time. "Harry! Hello?" He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, just spaced out. What were you saying?" Ginny sighed once more.

"I'm worried about Hermione," she started. "She's not the same anymore. It's as if... As if she's been kissed by the Dementors or something," Ginny added with a shudder. Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah..." he only trailed off, not sure if Hermione would like it if he retold what had transpired three nights ago.

"Has she said anything, Harry? Done anything?" Ginny was obviously upset, so Harry decided to tell them something.

"Well, no, she hasn't talked much. But she's taking Rivotril," he confessed.

"Rivotril?" Ron suddenly asked with a frown. "Why would she be taking that? She hasn't had an overdose or something, right?" He asked.

"Ron, for Merlin's beard, don't you think I'd have already told you if that was the case?" Harry told him reproachfully. "I've asked her about it, and she says she's only taking one per night." He added. Ron shook his head.

"Mental muggles, I tell you. Keep an eye on her with that- that thing," he said. Harry nodded.

"Of course."

"Where is she now?" Ginny wanted to know. Harry scrunched his nose at this, scratching his head.

"Either she's locked up in her bedroom, or lying on the living room couch." Yes, Hermione spent hours of her days just lying there, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Harry had tried to talk to her, but it felt as if he was back in his second year when she was petrified.

"But she looked so happy when you defeated You- Know-Who," Ginny stated. "I don't know what happened to her."

"First of all, it's Voldemort," Harry corrected. "I didn't risk half of my friend's lives for you to still be afraid of his name. And second... You're right. Maybe she just can't get over everything yet," he said. Ron snorted.

"Who can blame her? She just needs time. C'mon, let's look for her and see if we can cheer her up. Let's badmouth S.P.E.W.," Ron suggested. Ginny cracked a smile and Harry laughed at the comment, quickly standing up.

"Let's do that."

Hermione, meanwhile, barely heard them talking as they neared the living room. Little did they know that nothing could save her now.

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A/N: Well, there it is: the first chapter. Let me first remark that this is NOT a Hr/H story, nor will it contain any other ship but Hr/SB. That said... I hope you enjoyed it! Please R&R!