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She was magnetic.
The way she moved reminded him of a river, flowing seamlessly, naturally. Just as refreshing, and he wanted nothing more than to dive in and discover whatever endless wonders she had to offer.
Just the same, he could see right through her. Her smiles hid the pain she swore she was long over. The way she danced was her way of relieving her body of the urge to run away. The way she let herself lose control because, in a way, she still had control of her choice to not give a fuck anymore.
Merlin, he wanted to fucking save her. He knew this path. The path of the downward spiral because if there was nothing more to look forward to, hitting rock bottom promised a finality to the pain. And sometimes, it was too fucking much to bear.
He grabbed another cigarette from the carton in his jacket, lighting it as quickly as possible, distracting his fingers with anything, anything other than taking a drink or walking over to her and…he stopped the thought, flexing his hand.
Sirius’ cheeks hollowed in, taking a long, deep drag. He closed his eyes and held the smoke in his mouth, letting it burn his lungs, hoping beyond hope that when he exhaled, every thought of her would go along with it.
When he opened his eyes, Hermione was in front of him. She moved closer, closer, until she was inches away from him. She kept her gaze on his as she plucked the cigarette from his mouth and brought it up to her own, wrapping her lips around it. A smile pulled at her mouth as she released the smoke, blowing it in his face.
“Come dance with me,” she purred, grabbing his hand and caressing it with her thumb.
“I’m okay here, sweetheart. I’d rather watch you,” he replied, his voice deep, his throat raw and burning from the smoke.
Lifting a single brow, Hermione took another inhale from the cigarette before placing it back between his lips. “Suit yourself.” She turned around — the smoke from her mouth now surrounding her like a cloud — and grabbed Ron’s hand, pulling him with her back to the dance floor.
Hermione kept her gaze on Sirius, placing Ron in front of her, his chest to her and his back facing him, and she began to slowly move around him. She swayed her hips sensually, lifting her arms above her head and dipping low in front of him and back up. Ron tried to step away a bit, to make room but Hermione grabbed his hands, setting them on her hips as she turned her back to his chest, and gently began grinding against him.
She set a slow punishing pace, never once letting Ron grab her or touch her unless she made him. Unless she let him. Knowing full well that Sirius was watching every second, she intended to put on a show for him until the song ended.
She stood there, just watching Sirius, not making a single move other than her chest rising and falling, huffing for air.
Ron turned around smiling but Sirius noticed his face the second he caught her staring at him, the second it registered that none of that was for him but for Sirius. She broke her gaze to turn and look at Ron as he walked away and disappeared into the crowd.
Sirius put out his cigarette, shook his head and looked away from her.
As much as the dance turned him on, as much as he enjoyed her using someone else to make him jealous, and as much as he loved how he got under her skin enough to be reckless, he knew that her show could potentially have lasting repercussions.
He looked up to where Harry was with Theo, whispering in his ear as his nostrils flared. Ginny was knocking back shots, and Lavender burst into full blown sobs, running away into the bar’s lavatory.
He couldn’t do anything but watch the casualties in the wake of Hermione’s personal war with herself. She was spiralling, and he was growing more and more frustrated because she couldn’t see that everyone knew she was struggling. Everyone knew she was drowning except her.
She made her way back to their table and sat across from him, not saying a single word. She grabbed a glass that was left behind, full of firewhisky, and shot it back in one fell swoop.
Sirius grabbed a napkin from the table and reached for Hermione’s purse for the pen he knew she always kept with her, and scribbled on it before sliding it over to her.
She mouthed the words as she read them. "’You're cute?’ What — what do you mean you’re cute? What does that mean?"
"It means exactly what it says,” he taunted. “You're cute. Trying to make me jealous."
"Make you jealous?” She laughed incredulously. “What, do you think everything I do is because of you? For you? You're not as special as you think you are, Sirius! Not everything is about you!" She bellowed, throwing the napkin at him as she stormed out of the bar.
"Hermione!” He followed her outside only to be hit by the raging storm the forecast had promised earlier. “It's bloody fucking raining!"
She whipped around, her now soaked hair hitting her in the face. "You think you know everything, don't you?! You think you fucking know me?!" She shoved him.
"Oh, fucking spare me, Hermione!” He roared, rounding on her. “I might not be the only one that sees you fucking destroying yourself but I am the only one that understands!”
“And Ron?! Really? Merlin, Hermione, I might not give a shite about the bloke but I never thought you’d be as cruel as to use his crush on you against him.” He’d never spoken to her this way. In fact, Sirius might have been the only one who’d been patient with her. Understanding beyond belief. Because he did know, he did understand what she was feeling, thinking.
“Fuck you!” She roared, shoving him again.
Their experiences might not have been similar but their trauma was. Their coping mechanisms were the same. In a way, in a very fucked up way, they were the same. Two lost souls, wandering the earth, self-medicating any way they could to take away the pain of what they’d lost. Of what they’ll never have again. Their innocence.
The freedom to be a child, to make mistakes, to discover themselves and grow into the best version of themselves they could be. But that never was. The war made sure of that. The adults who were supposed to be protecting them but instead turned them into child soldiers made sure of that.
So, yes. Hermione was right. He did know her, and how he fucking cursed the universe for giving her the same pain only he understood. Not because she was “too much and too fucked up,” as he’d overhead some of the wankers she’d hooked up with say, but because Hermione didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of poison in her life.
He’d be her antidote if she’d asked.
The rain continued to rage around them, heavier this time. He looked at her as she shivered, her dress now clinging to the curves of her body. For a fraction of a second, Sirius looked down at her scar at the same time he licked the water away from his lips and back up, instantly causing Hermione to cover it with her right hand.
Her chin was trembling now, only it wasn’t because she was cold but because she was crying. The expression on her face turned frightening as she clawed down, down, down at her scar, her tears mixing with the rain as she screamed.
Sirius knew that grief. All the partying, drinking, and drugs was not only to keep away the grief of the friends and family they lost, but the grief of the childhood they never had.
“It wasn’t fair!” She yelled; at him, at the world, he didn’t know. “I was a child! I was a fucking child!” She buckled to the ground where she continued sobbing and scratching at her scar. “It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fucking fair!”
It felt like he’d been hit with a petrificus totalus because his feet felt immovable as he just stood there and watched as she clawed at her arm. It was only when he noticed she’d begun drawing blood that he rushed to her and dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her, trapping her.
She clung onto him, gripping him tightly. “It hurts,” she sobbed. “It hurts so much and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he whispered in her ear as he readjusted her in his arms, cradling and softly rocking her. “I’m here. I got you, baby. I got you.”
“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave me like they did,” she whimpered. “Please, make it stop.”
“Never, baby. I’m right here. I’ll never leave you. I’ve got you,” Sirius promised her over and over again, fervently.
They sat in the pouring rain for a minute before his legs began tingling from falling asleep. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he readjusted her once more, and secured his arm under her knees before he stood up, carrying her.
Without a second thought as to who could’ve been watching, Sirius disapparated them both to her flat. Careful not to lose his balance, he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom and softly sat her down on her bed.
He tried to let go but she tightened her grip on his shirt. “I’ll be right back, alright? I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before he walked into her connecting bathroom to start a bath. Wanting only to focus on her, he cast a drying charm on himself before walking back into the bedroom.
Sirius crouched down and looked up at her. He gently reached for her arm to inspect the damage she’d done on herself. His fingers ghosted over her scar, deciding to not touch her wound. He reached up to cradle her face with one hand and smoothed her hair down with the other. His eyes followed her face as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
Deep down, his heart was breaking. A pain he’d only felt once before, when he watched as his brother fell further and further into a side Sirius could no longer save him from.
Only this time, he vowed to never make the same mistake again. He vowed to protect her, help her, and save her. He was mourning for her now but he refused to mourn for her the way he had done the others.
“We’re going to get you cleaned up, okay?” He nodded at her. “Let’s clean up this wound first. Is that okay?”
Hermione’s eyes bounced between his, almost as if she were gauging whether she could trust him enough to touch such a raw part of her. Then, her eyes softened and she nodded at him, granting him permission.
He didn’t care that there would be an uphill battle after this. That she would fight him again, that she’d want to give up. He didn’t care that she’d call him names again. He knew exactly the road that was ahead of her. But, unlike those who gave up on them both, he vowed to get her to the other side.