The Light

Chapter 28- The Catalyst

They stayed there until the bell rang, signalling the last lesson of the day. Luckily, James and Sirius were both in her class, and they all meandered through the halls, dejected and unfocused, and neither the bustle of students nor provocation of Transfiguration could sway them from their thoughts.

Hermione entered the classroom, trying hard to let the buzz of school overwhelm her. It was strange. The stark contrast between this happiness and the hollowing feeling that had bubbled in her stomach at the realisation that something was starting here.

Something bigger than everything else.

oOoOoOo

Sirius stared at the back of her head.

His eyes couldn't seem to look at anything, anyone, else. His head was dark but light, and it was giving him a migraine, but he didn't want to focus on whatever it was McGonagall was talking about.

His lips tingled. Sirius still felt shocked, almost disengaged from the world. She had kissed him. Hermione had kissed him. Her lips had touched his, and he had held her, closer than usual. And he hadn't wanted to let her go. Not ever.

She must be something.

Sirius closed his eyes.

He'd never told anyone about Isabelle. How could anyone understand? It wasn't that important to other people- why would a muggle girl who died in a house fire mean anything to anyone else? But to Sirius, she meant everything.

She was one of those people that you remembered like she was from a dream. He couldn't remember her fully. He couldn't remember the colour of her eyes, or her favourite thing in the world. But there was something distinctive about her, something real. Where Isabelle was supposed to be in his memory, there was a red haze of smoke and ash, and the fringing of the moment was strained and angry. When he looked back on it, Sirius didn't see it as anything other than the death of a little girl who didn't deserve to die. A little girl who died because of him.

But now, after letting the story drip from his lips for the very first time, he wondered whether it was the moment where everything began to go wrong. The catalyst, the starting point, for his life of sorrows.

He stared at the back of her head, eyes tracing the curls. He didn't know why he'd told Hermione about Isabelle.

He had never even told James.

He didn't know why she had kissed him.

But he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

The ghost of her lips, warm and tender, on his, eliciting feelings Sirius hadn't even known that he had, lingered still. He wanted to kiss her again.

She must be something.

And Hermione was something. She was from the future, for Merlin's sake! As if that wasn't reason enough! But she was also real. Too real that it hurt sometimes, and just being near her scorched him. There was something so magical about her, like if he got close enough, she would electrocute him with everything good inside of her. Sirius wasn't sure whether this was just his imagination.

She sparked to him, like fireworks, or explosions.

"Isn't that right, Sirius?" McGonagall's voice cut through everything, wrenching him back into the present. He blinked at her, and Hermione trickled through and out of the sieve of his brain.

But Sirius was a professional with these things. He always switched off in class, and somehow, every single time, he managed to play it off. He nodded his head wisely and said, "Oh, of course. Absolutely. 100% certifiably correct."