            Merlin, he was so  warm and real, and just the sound of another person’s breathing was enough to shatter her resolve. Her sobs broke free from her chest, tears staining what felt like his leather jacket, so lovely and familiar, it brought on a fresh wave of crying. Hermione clung to Sirius as he whispered reassurances, telling her she was safe, that he had her now, that he was sorry he couldn’t come sooner. And after what felt like an hour, and her cheeks were sticky with salt and snot, Hermione forced herself to pull slightly back and meet his eyes through the dimness. Without thinking, Hermione pressed her lips into his—only for a second, before lurching back. "I’m sorry!" she exclaimed, a strange mix of guilt and grief and warmth flooding through her. "I should have asked," Hermione said, even if she wasn’t sure those were the right words. "I just...and you..."