Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own Harry Potter or related characters/settings.

In History Lie Like Bones

Having given up on the pretense of sleep, Hermione was puttering around the kitchen early the next morning. Coffee was brewing in the muggle coffeemaker she'd insisted on buying for Grimmauld Place and the oven was preheating for cinnamon rolls before the sun had even managed to reach the window sill.

Too tired to worry about slamming cupboard doors or smashing bowls down on the granite counter, Hermione paid no heed to the noise she was making. "They sleep like rocks, anyway," she grumbled, "and those that don't have rooms on higher floors."

Baking was therapeutic for Hermione, especially when it involved kneading and mashing dough. She'd picked it up from her mother who, despite being a dentist, indulged her talent for producing confectionaries laden with sugar. Baking on lazy Sunday afternoons had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. At first, they'd stuck to the basics—scones, cakes, trifles—but it wasn't long before they had started expanding their horizons and seeking out new recipes, each more challenging than the last.

She remembered her father coming home from his customary round of golf one evening to find the kitchen in complete disarray. Pots and pans were covering every available surface, ingredients were haphazardly strewn across the counters, and, standing in the middle of it all, were Hermione and her mother, covered head to toe in flour and what looked suspiciously like the crumbs of his favourite ginger snap cookies. Oh, how they had laughed!

She and her mother had related their rather unsuccessful attempt at making gingerbread cheesecake, with plenty of embellishments of course, and her father had—had—Angrily, Hermione tore her thoughts away from her late parents as a familiar prickling sensation reached her eyes. She would not cry.

Studiously avoiding thoughts of her family, Hermione attacked the dough with a vengeance. Her palms drove into the soft flesh again and again, mercilessly forcing it into submission.

"Is that my face you're imagining?" a voice interrupted her violent reverie.

She jumped slightly and looked over her shoulder at the speaker. "Right person, wrong body part," she quipped, turning her attention back to kneading.

"Ouch," Sirius grimaced, approaching the counter where she was working. "What're you making?"

"Cinnamon rolls."

Sirius watched as she continued to work the dough. Less vigorously now, but the tension was still thrumming through her body. She could feel it squeezing its way up her spine and pulsing between her shoulder blades.

"There's coffee in the pot," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the coffee maker. To her relief, Sirius took up the offer and she was temporarily availed of his intense gaze. She could hear him rummaging around the cupboards, presumably for a mug, as she pulled a rolling pin from one of the drawers.

It wasn't long, however, before she once again felt him looming over her. She had rolled out the dough and was reaching for sugar to make the filling when a bowl already filled with cinnamon sugar was thrust before her.

She looked up at him in surprise. "You made the filling?"

"Sure," he shrugged, "It's not like—"

But Hermione cut him off, eyes quickly narrowing with suspicion. "How do you even know what goes in cinnamon buns? You didn't add any extra ingredients, did you?"

"While that is definitely an intriguing thought," he laughed, indicating the cookbook on the counter, "I just followed directions."

Hermione appraised him for another moment, taking in the innocent expression on his face and the hands raised in surrender, before seizing the bowl with a quiet, "Harrumph."

----------------

With the cinnamon buns in the oven, Hermione found herself facing Sirius with nothing to distract her.

Loathe as she was to speak of their previous discussion, she knew it had to be addressed. If Sirius was going to stay with her, he would be much closer to her research than any of the other Order members. In fact, she was hoping he would be able to assist her with some aspects… which meant she had to reveal enough information to appease, perhaps intrigue, him, but not enough information to worry him or raise his suspicions about the morality of the means she was investigating to bring about the end of Lord Voldemort. She could divulge the rest once he became more familiar with the ultimate goal of her research.

The silence extended between them and Hermione watched as Sirius handed her a mug of coffee before pouring one for himself and leaning back against the counter.

"About last night—" he began.

"It's fine, Sirius."

"But I—"

"Really. I understand your concern and your reservations. And, to be honest, I'm glad you cared enough to bring them up."

"You are?" he asked, somewhat taken aback by her nod. "You aren't upset with me?"

"Of course not, Sirius. You want to protect me, and I appreciate that. But I also need to pursue this research, even if some of the material I uncover falls closer to the gray zone than I'm comfortable with."

"So there is more to this than you let on."

"Yes," she looked up from the mug she'd been staring at, sighing when she saw him cross his arms. "Some of the information I've come across has led me to believe that some of these ancient rituals weren't entirely benign."

"Meaning?"

"That some rituals contain elements that may be analogous to what we consider dark magic."

"I see."

"Do you? By studying them, maybe we can find a way to weaken the dark spells we're bound to face from the Death Eaters."

"And we're just studying them? Not using them?"

Hermione shrugged. "As far as I can tell, they can't be applied to modern magic. But the relationships between the old rituals and ancient magic can most certainly be extrapolated to create new rituals that might affect the power of present day spells."

Sirius sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You realize this is a slippery slope."

"I do, which is why Dumbledore and I decided the details of my research would be disclosed on a 'need to know' basis."

"You told me."

"I did," she replied, meeting Sirius' gaze. She watched the thoughts racing behind his dark eyes as he hesitated, hiding her own doubts and insecurities behind a façade of certainty.

But after only a brief pause, his face cleared and Sirius dropped his defensive posture.

"Well, I suppose you are the brightest witch of your age, after all," he said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Sirius. I—"

"Bloody hell, that smells good!"

The exclamation, along with others of a similar nature, followed by the creaking of floorboards signaled the awakening of their friends and caused Hermione and Sirius to laugh as she removed the cinnamon buns from the oven.

Chapter title, "In History Lie Like Bones" is from W. H. Auden's play, The Ascent of F6. The entire quote says, "Acts of injustice done / Between the setting and the rising sun / In history lie like bones, each one."