The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I know it has been a while. I hope you like this. Drop me a line and let me know.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"It was just another step one small step at that and I would be done. The pain the emptiness would be over. " That's was what had driven her here past midnight on the first day of the New Year. The idea of another agonizing year of pain and grief was too much. She needed it to end now.

No one would ever know; she along with her constant companion of pain would be gone.

She looked around the darkness and silence worked in tandem to make everything seem less real. She would just slink away. Slink away? Suddenly the idea of slinking seemed preposterous. She had never slinked in her life, she was outspoken and willing to face her critics, slinking was defiantly not her! Yet she was slinking, was the next step the step of a coward?

The idea of being a coward rankled her. She was not a coward. But as she took a deep breath all of her courage seemed a distant memory. The choice of living a tortured existence or peace was hinged on her next step.

It was a small step, more of a shift, a lean forward, a small movement, not even enough to cause her feet to move. Then her worries would be gone, never again having to face the accusations and anger. It was simple she had a choice and her choice was peace.

The darkness, the unknown was an acceptable alterative to this life. This life was not for her, she was ready.

Just as her shoulders moved toward the rippling curtain, she felt the small flutter. The tiny bubbles that if she hadn't been so focused she would have missed, never noticed.

The entire universe zeroed into that pinpoint of time with a nanosecond of complete clarity. Her universe was altered, changed forever. She had felt the flutter and would never be the same.

Her body was still leaning forward, but she knew she couldn't, no didn't want that now. She needed to think about this. Her hands instinctively cradled her abdomen, protecting the innocent was a powerful motivator; she needed time.

As her arms moved forward, the edge of her sleeve slipped past the edge of the curtain. Pulling back to step away, she felt her robe being forcibly pulled. Using the overwhelming desire to protect, she yanked her arm back and as her sleeve emerged from the opening, she saw the pale tattooed fingers that had a grip of her robe.

The fingers seemed desperate not to lose their grasp, they fought to remain attached. Not knowing why, she reached her hand toward the ghostly, driven fingers. A spark pulsed between the hands. Her fingers work hard to find a hold on the wrist and when she a grasp she pulled hard.

The hard surface that crashed into her back came as a surprise. She realized she had fallen and when she opened her eyes the room looked the same. Nothing seemed out of place and taking a moment to feel she knew she hadn't broken any bones. The only sensation that seemed wrong was the squeezing on her wrist.

Turning to look she saw the hand that was still holding her wrist and that the hand was attached to an excruciatingly thin person lying next to her. The dark curly hair and faded tattoos on the arms seemed familiar.

The fluttering caught her attention again and she smiled for the first time in four months. The idea of happiness leaked through a small crack in her shattered heart. The smallest of smile grew as she once again glimpsed the possibility of tomorrow.

As her mind cleared, she sat up. She realized she needed to leave before anyone found her here. If anyone saw her they may tell him. He could never find out. He would never forgive her thinking this was a solution.

Looking at the entry she thought she saw flickering lights and heard possible footsteps. Her heart was racing, she needed to leave. Standing up, she walked to the edge of dais. The entry was still closed, she could slip out unnoticed. As she reached for the door handle she heard the guttural groan. In her panic she had forgotten the person who had appeared from the other side of the veil.

She was torn; intellectual curiosity of returning was pitted against self preservation. The groans were getting louder, if she left him/her would someone else find him/her? And if so, would he/she remember her being here? She needed the person to stop making noise or someone was going to find them.

There was no easy way out of this. If she left, someone would eventually find the bag of bones and possibly interrogate him/her. The bag might remember she had been her and then her secret would be out.

She could not be associated with this, she needed to leave unnoticed. She would have to take the person with her and figure the rest out at home. Resolutely, she walked back to the center of the room and standing next to groaning body, gently pushed it over on to its back.

Her initial shock was replaced in quick succession by gratitude, disbelief, and finally awe. The eyes opened and staring at her in a weak half-groan whisper said, "Hermione?"

Her reply was also whispered, "Sirius?"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Thanks for reading.

Deaudle