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“Don’t worry, I’ve been arrested before,” Sirius says cheerily and pats her on the head gently, “I’ll get us out of this.”
Hermione uses her hands to cover her face in an attempt to hide her expression; she’s not sure how she feels.
.
“No,” Hermione glares at him and tightens her fist at the sides, “Have you lost your mind?”
Sirius drawls out, unperturbed, “Well—”
“—it was a rhetorical question!” she hisses and nearly stomps her foot on the ugly carpet, “What are you going to do if you get caught? What’s Harry going to do if you get thrown back in Azkaban again? How will you protect him then?”
Remus peeks at the scene from the heavy tome.
“Are you saying you would rather Harry stay with those abusive arseholes, witch?” Sirius nearly spits, hardly believing what he’s hearing.
“Of course not!”
“Then what the bloody hell—”
“—what you’re just going to bust the door open guns blazing—”
“—what the hell is a gun?”
“—and demand that they hand over Harry?” she inquires incredulously and puts her hands on her hips like he’s lost his mind; which isn’t too far off. “Have you forgotten they are muggles? Does the statute mean anything to you?”
“What Hermione is trying to say, Padfoot,” Remus decides to put a pin in the conversation before his oldest friend accidentally bursts a blood vessel from being reprimanded – which is most needed – by a girl, “Is that you can’t walk into the Dursleys front door and grab Harry. You need a plan.”
Sirius stops at that, he blinks and then looks back to Hermione who nods rapidly.
“Exactly!” she exclaims and puts her fist in her hand, “I’m not going to age myself, even more, to pull you out of Azkaban if you get arrested again.”
Remus snorts.
Honestly, the reason Sirius got thrown in Azkaban in the first place is because he didn’t think. Granted both of their best friends had been murdered and their dead bodies, not even cold, lay on the floor in front of him—coupled with Sirius’s grief and anger, he played right into Wormtail’s hands, and that guilt will never leave him. He will never forgive himself for leaving Harry in the arms of strangers, leaving him to suffer at the hands of Lily’s abusive family, and now, he’s unconsciously trying to make up for those faults by whisking him away from those people as much as he possibly can.
Plus Sirius is so damn hot-headed, that all common sense just flies out the window, she thinks tiredly.
Though, she wouldn’t verbally admit that.
Hermione doesn’t know him from before the veil, doesn't know how fiery his Black temper runs, but she can’t help but wonder if he’s tempered out over the years or locked all of his ire into a box in the furthest corner of his mind.
Sirius has enough guilt to last him a lifetime.
“How about,” Hermione starts off and puts a hand underneath her chin, “I go and pick Harry up.”
Remus opens his mouth to, most likely, protest, that it is far too dangerous for her to travel alone. However, the argument, weak as it is, cannot dither away from the fact that Hermione is a muggle and despite it not being summer—she spends time in the Muggle world anyway, no matter the timing. She raises a hand and frowns, “First of all, I’m a muggle, Remus. I know how to blend in, how to talk—it makes more sense for me to go anyway. Second of all, it’s not dangerous for me because I live there and visit home every summer. Third of all, it’s Harry. We’ll be fine.”
Sirius shoots Remus a triumphant look and points to himself with his thumb, “And I can chaperone as Padfoot.”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust, “I don’t need a chaperone,” she pauses and remembers how Sirius is locked up in a home that brings him nightmares on the good days, days where he doesn’t think about Azkaban, but the horrid nature of his childhood, “But I supposed Padfoot needs to stretch his legs.”
Remus crosses his arms underneath his chest and says disapprovingly, “You know, there was a time where you thought I was brilliant and listened to everything I told you.”
“I still think you're brilliant Remus,” Hermione smiles sweetly, “But so am I.”
Sirius snickers into his palm.
.
Padfoot nudges Hermione’s knee when they get to the sidewalk across Apple Ct. She pats him on the head absentmindedly and walks through the neighborhood with Sirius hovering over suspiciously close. She eyes the shops on the other side of the road with hesitation. She decides to make conversation with the ex-convict next to her, seeing as how the man is in dog-form and cannot speak. Which is a gift in disguise. “Did you know this neighborhood is supposedly haunted?”
Padfoot blinks and then looks up at her interest.
“About twenty years ago, yes you were alive during this time,” Hermione chuckles when he growls at the slight, “There were a few kids that went to an abandoned house on a dare and never came back out.”
Padfoot barks in disbelief.
“I never used to like coming to this part of the city when I was younger,” Hermione explains and turns left on the street, “I was always afraid that their ghosts would come find me; much to my surprise when I went to Hogwarts I found out that ghosts were real! And not scary at all, well, because they can’t touch us.”
Padfoot nudges her knee again.
“But most muggles don’t understand that,” she finishes quietly, “When I found out Harry lives in this area, I was angry because only he would have such rotten luck living in a place like that.”
Padfoot growls again.
“I know, luck is not the exact word I would use,” Hermione sighs and points to the house at the end of the street, “But what else could I call it?”
Padfoot whines.
“Alright, I’ll do all the talking because, well, you’re a dog,” she speaks mostly to herself and rubs the side of her face, “You know, I quite like you like this—very endearing.”
If dogs could glare, she giggles lightly when he drops his head to the ground as they stand in front of the door.
Hermione raps on the door three times before an ugly man opens the hinges, with his hard chin and mean scowl. She’s pretty sure that this is—what’s his name? Vernon?
“Good evening, Mr. Dursley,” Hermione says politely, “I’m here to pick up Harry.”
“Are you one of those freaks too?” Vernon demands with a glob of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Hermione flinches at the venom and Padfoot curls around her feet with a warning growl, “I live in Marylebone.”
“Well, he’s not coming with you,” he dismisses her comment without thought and smiles with teeth, “The freak has chores.”
She flinches again at the word and puffs her cheeks out in response, “Unfortunately, he’s not. There’s a criminal on the loose,” she lies technically, but not really, “If Harry stays any longer with you then he’ll no doubt come to visit. Surely, you wouldn’t allow, what’s his name? Dudley, to be exposed to such dangers, would you? That’s neglect at worst,” she spits the word out despite her polite tone, “Please, allow Harry to leave or I’m afraid I’ll have to let the authorities know of your noncompliance.”
Vernon narrows his eyes dangerously, his fingers catch onto her collar and she yelps back in shock as Padfoot makes a noise of distress—standing on his legs as Harry’s uncle tugs her close, nearly lifting her from the ground. He emphasizes every word with a little spit and a whole lot of anger. He shakes her - she looks at him with wide eyes; frozen - fingers clutched tight to the ends of sleeves because she most certainly did not expect him to lift her moreover, put his hands on her as he threatens, “Listen here, you pompous, disgusting, fre—”
Padfoot shifts back into Sirius - with the blood rushing in her ears she can’t exactly hear what the animagus says - but he grabs Vernon by the back of his neck and tosses him through the front door. He holds her shoulders, in an effort to steady her on her feet, Sirius cups her cheeks and peers into her wide, frightened ember eyes and he snarls darkly.
Sirius pulls her behind him and barks something—
“—godson! How dare you lay your hands on a lady, you utter piece of shit!” Sirius’s voice snaps like a whip, his shouts sound nearly incoherent, coupled with his growling from Padfoot. Hermione can almost see the magic - the infamous Black temper - sparking through the edges of his aura and Harry is tumbling down the stairs with a shocked face—delighted, but bemused nonetheless.
Hermione grabs onto the back of his shirt and he pauses mid-yell. She tells him quietly, “Get Harry and let’s go.”
Sirius, torn between giving this man a piece of his mind and giving in to the urge to cause strangulation, gives his godson a pinched smile and instructs him to get his trunk.
.
Remus looks over with concern at her quiet demeanor, eyes staring at the fire as Harry narrates just how boring his summer was. Sirius nods every once in a while, his eyes stray over to Hermione when Harry turns his head to talk to Remus too. When Sirius tells him to go settle in and wash up for supper, the animagus uses this opportunity to speak to Hermione.
“Hey kitten,” Sirius calls out to her gently and stays in her line of vision; walking closer to her and takes a seat in front of her on the carpet.
Hermione shifts her head to look at him with wary mahogany eyes.
“You doing okay?” he grasps her hands with his and runs a thumb lazily down the line of her knuckles.
“I’m fine,” Hermione says softly.
Sirius frowns and Remus shifts closer—not knowing exactly what happened. He goes on sweetly, his eyes still held the manic gleam from earlier, and rests his head on her knee, “Darling, I hope you know that fuck-face—Vernon, was completely out of line to put his hands on you.”
Remus stills.
“How dare he put his hands on anyone - don’t look at me like that love, I’m the exception - and you especially, a lovely kitten, he’s lucky Padfoot didn’t rip out his throat,” he says darkly and presses a kiss to her hands, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Hermione presses the collar of her shirt closer to her throat and shakes his head—she answers quickly because he looks like he’s in pain. “No—no he didn’t do anything,” then she pauses to squeeze his hands, garnering his attention, and whispers quietly, sadly, “I don’t want you to go back to Azkaban,”
Sirius smiles ruefully, even in the face of danger, her first line of thought is someone else. He sniffs and presses more kisses to her hand, “I would go to Azkaban willingly than ever allow anyone to put their hands on you.”
She smiles gently at him.
Remus, decides to be the voice of all reasons, while he full-heartedly agrees with Sirius line of attack, it was time for damage control. He looks at Sirius warily and then back to Hermione, “What do you know about memory charms?”