            Hermione let her gaze wander over the man she was currently pressed into. Even in the watery light of dawn, she could make out the distinctly Sirius details of him. The smattering of tattoos, the wiry chest hair, the way his dark mustache curved just beyond the edges of his beard. Wiggling one hand free, Hermione traced a path up his bare chest, up to the rune she had carved into his flesh from beyond the Veil. The symbol had healed into something shiny and pink—easy to miss behind the mural of his chest, if she didn’t know where to look.