            "Well I don’t." She tried to reach for him, to touch his cheek, but Sirius looked sharply away. "Look at me," she commanded. He gave her nothing. Biting back her frustration, Hermione lowered herself to the ground, kneeling before him so he could not avoid her. Snow seeped into her knees, burning with its razor cold. She ignored it. It didn’t matter. Only this man did, his hands which he accepted into hers—at least, he didn’t fight back. Hermione held to his fingers like they were that tether, all those days ago in the Edge. Her lifeline back home. "Sirius, I need you to help me," she said whispered, her heart leaping as he finally lifted his eyes back to hers. "I can’t do this prophecy alone. I can’t do it with just Lucius," she continued, noting the way his eyes darkened. "I can’t do it without you safe. Without your magic back."