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“But why won’t you tell me, Hermione?” Sirius whined.
Hermione looked up from her book and smiled. “You’re a clever boy, Sirius. I’m sure you can work it out.”
“But it would be so much easier if you just told me!”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” Hermione smirked over at Sirius and turned back to her book.
Sirius still couldn’t believe that Hermione hadn’t told him what her animagus form was. It had started as a bit of a game. Sirius would guess outrageous animals, hoping to rile her up until she spilt the beans. Instead Hermione would just smile at him, and tell him if he loved her he would know what it was.
He had been sure that when he had suggested she was ashamed that she was an elephant, she would have stormed over, an outraged expression on her face, and exclaimed something like ‘what do you know Sirius Black, I’m a …’. But, not only had she not given herself away, no, irritatingly she had just given a coy little smile and simply said, “I always thought that elephants were very noble creatures.”
There had even been one infuriating time she had simply ignored his comments, walked past where he sat in the library at Grimmauld Place, and had patted him on the head. Like he was some kind of toddler that needed placating.
She joked that he didn’t seem to know her very well, considering they had been dating for three years, and your animagus form was supposed to be the animal which represented you best. He had growled that he knew her in all ways that mattered.
That had led to a very enjoyable evening with Sirius proving to Hermione exactly how well he knew her body. Even if afterwards it had left Sirius questioning how much he knew of her mind.
The only clue that Hermione had given was that she was not an otter like her patronus. Sirius had snarkily commented that an otter wouldn’t be a particularly useful form, unless you were near a river. Hermione had fired right back that she quite liked the form of her patronus, thank you very much, and if he was going to be insulting he could sleep on the sofa again. As much as Sirius enjoyed passionate debates and arguments with Hermione, usually followed by a very passionate making up. Sirius had very wisely not raised the possibility of a water based animal again.
Hermione tried to reassure Sirius that it wasn’t a test, and was only meant to be a bit of fun. She reminded Sirius regularly that a little curiosity was good for the soul. How else would the Wizarding World continue to learn and discover new things. Sirius knew that she enjoyed teasing him as much as he enjoyed teasing her, but the more times he guessed wrong, the more disheartened and, dare he admit, petulant he became.
Sirius was a bit worried that this was some kind of test of their relationship. One which he was very concerned he was failing. He felt that he should be able to work out something so personal about his girlfriend - his longest serious girlfriend - but he was stumped. Hermione continued to reiterate that this wasn’t the case, and there was no test to fail. She thought it would simply be fun for Sirius to figure it out himself, while she enjoyed holding a secret over him. She told him that she knew he would work it out eventually, and pointed out how pleased he would be once he knew.
Sirius scowled to himself. There was nothing he hated more than feeling left out of a secret. And he definitely felt like he had failed at something. Even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He knew Hermione was right, and he would feel pleased and pretty smug once he worked it out. Though at the moment he wasn’t sure it was worth the misery.
Closing the book, and putting it down on the sofa, Hermione smiled over at Sirius.
“I’m heading up to bed, love.” Looking at Sirius’s scowling face, she sighed. “Are you still upset that you haven’t worked out my animagus form?”
“Maybe,” Sirius responded through gritted teeth.
“You have all the clues, love. I think the answer is staring you in the face.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late brooding.”
Sirius heard the door close softly behind him and sighed. He knew he was over-reacting, but that didn’t stop him feeling hurt and annoyed that Hermione hadn’t given in and told him her form. She had known he was Padfoot before she had barely known him as Sirius. He couldn’t work out why withholding this information hurt so much. Usually he enjoyed the games they played with each other, but this didn’t seem to be much fun anymore. It was probably because this was such a fundamental part of her, one that he wasn’t privy to, and the longer it went on, the more left out he felt.
Looking over at the book Hermione had left on the couch, Sirius admired the cover and its tones of gold and black. He would never admit it to his friends, but he had a fondness for old books. He loved the way they were bound together, the rich colours on the cover faded with age, and the smell of old parchment. It had been one of his secrets that he had shared with Hermione.
He walked over to the sofa, and carefully picked up the book, looking at the cover more closely. The front cover contained a small bird, in front of a gold moon, seemingly singing to the heavens. Noticing the title he gasped. ‘Little Curiosity’ was exactly what Hermione had said to him when he had moaned about not knowing her form. A little curiosity is good for the soul, she had said to him numerous times. Looking at the bird again, he smiled.
Running out of the library, taking the stairs two at a time, he burst into the master bedroom. Hermione looked up from where she was sitting reading in bed, and smiled at the wide grin stretching across Sirius’s face.
Sirius waved the book around exclaiming, “I think I need a new nickname for you, kitten. Should I call you starling, or are you more of a songbird.”
Hermione laughed. “I see you’ve finally worked it out. But I think you should still call me kitten, we wouldn’t want anyone else figuring it out, would we?”
“Or maybe little sparrow, instead of starling,” Sirius continued, on a roll. “Or maybe you’re a type of tit.”
“Enough now, love.” Hermione cut in. “Well done, you managed to work out all my clues, perhaps we can focus on something else now?”
“Not until I have come up with the perfect nickname.” Sirius replied, looking back at the book cover again. “Are you a goldfinch?”
“Oh Sirius, I didn’t realise you were so terrible at distinguishing different types of birds. It’s a nightingale, known for their beautiful songs.”
Sirius laughed, “that’s hilarious, you can’t carry a note.”
Hermione gave a wry smile, silently agreeing that it was quite ironic.
“But,” Sirius continued, meeting Hermione’s eyes, “I think it suits you perfectly, the beautiful songbird, you are my muse.”