As soon as Harry heard Sirius' door slam above him he was racing to the Floo. He needed to talk to Hermione as soon as physically possible. She would be able to help him connect the dots, he knew. She always had before.

He snatched up a handful of powder, stuck his head in, and threw it in the grate, calling out for Hermione's office without preamble. Green flames jumped up toward his face before withering away before his eyes. The sensation was...odd. Almost like when he'd been given a swirly by Dudley in his youth. Well, that was odd...

Harry summoned the Floo pot from the mantle and into his hand. He tried calling again. Nothing happened other than the flames leaping and immediately extinguishing, giving off that odd stationary vacuum feeling once more.

Worry creased his brow, his mind spinning. Had Hermione locked her Floo? Had Sirius blocked her address? What the ever-loving fuck was going on?!

On a whim, he threw a third handful of powder into the grate and called out for the Burrow. Immediately, green flames sprung into existence and he was afforded a toasty view of the Weasley's living room. So it was definitely Hermione's connection and not the Floo in general.

Harry debated just withdrawing his head and ending the call, but he didn't want to be rude, so he impatiently waited around for a moment to see if anyone would answer. He knew the Weasleys would understand, but Molly and Arthur were worth his momentary delay.

After a moment, it was neither Molly nor Arthur, but George who came ambling into the room, a slow, mischievous smirk sliding over his face when his eyes landed on Harry's visage floating above the grate.

"Doth mine eyes deceive me, or is that the bless'd noggin of Britain's Boy Wonder afloat within mine flue?" He asked, eyes comically agog and a hand clutched to his chest as if to calm his heart's shocked palpitations.

Harry chose to answer the jest with a put-upon smirk, his mind already jumping to conclusions that he was none too happy to be reaching. "Sorry, George. Gotta go save the world again. Well, kind of. I'll explain later," He started to pull back without waiting for a response before he thought better of it. "On second thought, if you see Hermione, keep her and send me a Patronus."

Without assuaging the worry that was now plain on George Weasley's face, he broke the connection, stood, and grabbed yet another handful of Floo powder. At this rate I'm going to need to go to the shops and get more by tomorrow, he thought.

"Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts."

Harry stepped into the grate and was gone in a spin of ash, never more grateful for his special privileges as a member of the Auror force.

OxOxOxOxO

To say Minerva McGonagall was surprised to receive Harry Potter on her hearth-rug at half past eleven in the evening was an understatement. It was a very good thing it had been so many years since she had taken those five stunners to the chest because she would have needed a trip to St. Mungo's if she had still been recovering upon his abrupt arrival. It had been fifteen years since she had received any male company so late in the evening…

"Potter, as much as I enjoy your visits, I must admit I prefer a bit of warning before you come spiraling into my chambers at this time of night. My office hours have been over for hours now. There must be some urgent need for you to not even send a Patronus in warning," she admonished gently, eyeing him critically over her spectacles. With an imperious sniff, she pulled her tartan dressing gown a bit tighter and adjusted her position in her chair behind the ornate desk in the center of the room. "Is there an emergency within my school that I am unaware of? Should I be made aware, Potter?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, halfway across her office to the door. No matter how many years passed, he would always be her student, and that meant feeling a proper fool when she would turn a critical eye on him. Especially when he was technically sneaking around Hogwarts past curfew. Some things never changed, it seemed.

"Nothing serious, I assure you, Prof- I mean, Headmistress. At least I don't think so at the moment. Nothing dire, at least. So sorry to intrude, but yours was the only Floo I was able to access."

The middle-aged witch fixed him with her best all-knowing stare. "I assume you'll inform me if I need to make substitute arrangements for my Runes professor before you leave? A note will do, as I have no intention of remaining awake into the ungodly hours you will likely be."

Harry gulped and nodded his head as he eyed the door and inched his way towards it, clearly impatient to get to his friend, yet unwilling to appear rude.

Minerva sighed and inclined her head towards the door. "Very well, be on your way. Kindly close the door on your way out, would you? Do give Hermione my best, and please make use of the front door and Apparation point beyond the gates upon your leave. "

Without waiting upon ceremony, Harry turned on his heel and flung himself out of the room, a hurried goodbye drifting on the air behind him.

The Headmistress put a weary finger to her suddenly aching temple as the door slammed behind him. "I don't think I'll ever be through with those three. Merlin and Morgana save my poor portrait."

OxOxOxOxO

In no time, Harry arrived at Hermione's chamber door. He wasted no time in trying the lock, then pounding when he couldn't gain entrance or bypass the wards.

He was prepared to find a furious Hermione on the other side—no one with half a brain would try to gain entrance without her express permission—but instead, he came face to face with a Weasley.

Charlie Weasley, to be exact.

"Charlie? What are you doing in Hermione's rooms?" Harry asked, his stomach dropping to his feet. No wonder Sirius was such a mess. Hell, Harry himself would be a mess if his witch left him for Charlie. Everyone loved Charlie. It was purely good luck that he had gotten one of the two witches in the world who wouldn't fall for his charms, simply due to relation.

"I could ask you the same, Harry. What are you doing showing up at a witch's room at near midnight? A witch who isn't my baby sister, I mean." He retorted, a roguish, conspiratorial smirk gracing his face.

Harry couldn't help but grimace, despite knowing that if Ginny knew or suspected even half of what he did, she would be here herself. Breaking the door down, most likely, and employing her famous Bat-Bogey Hex.

"I'm here to check on my best friend. Things are… not as they should be at home, so I became concerned. May I come in? I'd rather not have it out here in the corridor. Never know who is listening," He intoned, his head listing to the side to indicate the many portraits that were attempting to appear to be in a deep, nearly-silent slumber. One even had his ear trumpet pressed into his ear, which was mashed against the side of his canvas in an effort to keep it in place without the use of his hands.

Charlie moved aside, swiftly welcoming the younger man into the dimly lit room.

Harry looked around in confusion, his eyes scraping over the disorganized tableau before him. There were papers all over her desk, pots of cold tea and used cups on nearly every surface, and a large pile of blankets that seemed to be heaving on her receiving couch.

With a sigh, Harry walked around the back of the couch and took a seat on the edge. "Oh, 'Mi. What happened?"

With a great, wet sniffle, Hermione's head emerged from the bundle, her hair in a cacophony of curls that greatly dwarfed her tear-stained face. "He broke it off with me, Harry!" She wailed, pulling a tissue from within the folds of her blanket and blowing her nose loudly. "Well, we would have had to have been dating to have anything to break off, but he as good as!"

"Why, 'Mione? He loves you; I know he does." At that pronouncement, Hermione's hysterics began anew, which caused Charlie's eyes to fall to the floor as his shoulders drooped.

"I'm afraid that's my fault." He muttered, unable to look Harry in the eye when he whipped around to get a better look at the former dragon handler.

"Explain. Right now."

"I was making my way into the village for a spot of dinner when I ran into Hermione and asked if she would join me," he admitted begrudgingly. His head shot up and his eyes shone fiercely as he explained, "I swear I didn't know about her and Sirius, or I wouldn't have done it."

Harry exhaled heavily through his nose. "I believe you, Charlie, but I'm not who you have to convince. Besides, I doubt Sirius would break up—or not—over a chance dinner between colleagues. So what else happened?"

Charlie gulped and continued his tale. "I will admit it wasn't exactly a chance meeting; I've been watching 'Mione—thinking she was a free bird, no attachments whatsoever. Again, I swear I wouldn't have done anything if I'd known. Anyway," he waved his hands dismissively, cutting off his own train of thought, "I sort of planned to run into her on her way. We walked down to the village and had a great time just catching up and enjoying some good food. Then I ruined everything when I kissed her just before we left. She told me straight off she was seeing Sirius—explained it wasn't a done deal, they hadn't put a name to it, but that she wanted to—which was followed by heavy groveling on my part and a good, if a bit awkward, laugh between us. We didn't know anything was amiss until we got back here to grade papers and there was an owl waiting for her. We didn't know we'd been seen, and were both prepared to sweep it under the rug and never speak of it again unless Hermione decided she wanted to tell Sirius. But apparently he saw, or someone told him; we aren't really sure which it is."

Hermione had been hiccoughing and sniffling throughout the whole retelling. Charlie sat down in the nearest chair and squeezed his head between his hands.

Harry gathered himself and asked the next most pressing questions on his mind: "Where's the letter? May I read it?"

Hermione's curls bobbed, which Harry took as acquiescence, and after a bit of crinkling and struggling the letter was produced from within her cotton cocoon, in all its tear-splattered infamy.

Harry adjusted his glasses so he could better see the piece of brown paper—clearly torn from a takeaway bag, like the ones strewn across his sitting room table—in front of his eyes before his brow furrowed in agitation and exasperation.

It was fun while it lasted, kitten. You've always deserved someone young and whole. Congratulations to you; Charlie's a lucky man. Enjoy your life. — S.O.B.

"Sodding Salazar Slytherin, Sirius. You've got to be bloody kidding me…" he muttered to himself. His godfather was a complete knob and never was good about waiting for an explanation before running headfirst into action. Much like himself. Must be where he got it. However, Harry knew it wasn't entirely Sirius' fault…

"'Mi, this is a big, buggering mess. Sirius is at home, drunk off his arse, and he's blocked the Floo connection to yours."

Hermione's small, broken voice butted in for only the second time since he'd entered her rooms, which must have been some Hermione record. "I know, Harry! As soon as I read it I tried to Floo over and explain, but I couldn't get through. We even tried walking to the edge of the school and Apparating, but he's completely blocked me out of the wards!"

Harry felt his brows shoot to his hairline before they fell just as swiftly as his face crumpled with worry. "I've never seen him so miserable, and I'm including just after he was released from Azkaban and when he was stuck at Grimmauld during the war." Hermione seemed to deflate at his pronouncement, becoming a mere husk of herself, much like Sirius himself. Even Charlie looked ill.

"So," Harry released an unknowingly held breath and looked between his two friends. "How are we going to fix this?"

It seemed this was going to be a long night.

Author's Note:

So… How's life been since… April? I feel like a complete douche for not updating for so long, but if you knew what happened in my life in the interim, you would probably give me a hug. And a stiff drink. Or two. Maybe just a pitcher. Trust me, those who know have offered all of the above.

Normally I would feel like I needed to explain myself, but so many wonderful writers have reassured me that not only is it unnecessary, but it's setting a wrong precedent if I do. This is my work that I write for my personal enjoyment. I'm stating this here for myself, as I reallyreallyREALLY feel like I NEED to almostkinda answer to you guys and that you deserve to know the hell I've lived. That I haven't forgotten you or this fic. Which you don't, as not only is it personal, but part of it is an ongoing investigation and involves a minor (my daughter). But I personally want you to know the gist of what has kept me away, as it helps you relate to me on a human level. We ALL struggle. I'm not just a pen name on a site, and neither are any of you (even you, guests).

So, without further ado, this is what June-September looked like for me:

My in-laws came to visit, my anniversary happened, I miscarried (our fourth loss), BAD THING (ongoing investigation), Fourth of July, I was sick for over a month, then had surgery that I didn't have insurance for, my kids all got sick the day after my surgery, I got sick again, we started our first year of homeschooling, then there were hurricanes blowing through my state, and bad news about the BAD THING. I even think I missed a few things… Oh, my brand new brother-in-law went to the hospital four times for collapsed lungs over that span of time, had chest cavity scrape/lung stapling surgery twice to correct it, and my little sister almost died. That one just happened about two weeks ago. Plus my baby sister is due with her first—a niece! Her due date was yesterday. And I'll be acting as doula, whenever the time comes.

Yeah.

In other news, this story is a whole year old, as of the sixteenth of last month. Insane, if you ask me. Thank you guys for giving me the love I needed to take off, and thank you for the votes in various competitions and such. ASM is up for Best Sirius in the Shrieking Shack's 2017 Marauder Medals. Just found out and am completely gobsmacked, as since I've been so quiet I kinda expected to fade away from the scene completely, which is wont to happen. Didn't even expect a mention. So thank you.

Anyway, I love you guys, which is why I'm even telling you anything. Just please respect that this is my choice, and many other authors don't/won't feel the same way and will keep everything close to their chests.

As always: Those that leave reviews are amazing, and those of you who just gobble this up are also amazing. I've always loved writing; it makes me feel like myself. Thank you for sticking with me and giving me grace to live my life and raise my three girls.

This chapter is dedicated to potterfangirl21, whose desperate and gushing—although brief—review made me grin like a fool while in public. Thank you.

Beata love to MissandMarauder, justcourbeau, and Blond Handsome Stranger. You guys are more to me than just amazingly fab grammar nazis; you're true friends. Love you. Thank you for being there for me through all my crazy real life shit. You guys are my marauders (but no one is Peter).

Also, I've been editing all past chapters (holy plot holes and autocorrect fails, Batman) so expect changes and all sorts of random bonus bits. Nothing too huge, but I've filled in details and refined shit.

Sorry for the long note. Just had a lot to say.