[ All she can do now is keep smiling. There aren't many people here that know about her scar, or her torture - and Sirius doesn't even know about how she got the mark - but she had to prove herself somehow. She had to show him, to make him understand that all of this was fact. What else could she have done, other than bring James here and force him to explain things? Her smile widens at his almost joke and her hand drops away ever so, hovering at her side again before she forces it to be still. Overcrowding him with her prescence now would probably make him bolt - and the image of a dog running with it's tail between it's legs is almost enough to have her laughing to herself.

Instead, she just shakes her head at him, fond and obviously familiar. She missed Sirius, missed him more than she could express, perhaps not as much as Harry had but enough. She had loved him in her own way and seeing what had happened to him was too much to think about right now. She couldn't, not when he was right here in front of her, alive and breathing and joking. ]

The future is good, Sirius - and, really, you can call me Hermione if you'd like to. I don't mind.

[ Her set shoulders relax and she breathes out. ]

Voldemort is dead, the Death Eaters are being imprisoned and the world is... Well, it's safe from him. We fought a hard war, that's true, but... It was worth it, in the end. We survived.