[ As soon as she realises that Padfoot was exactly who she thought he was - there's no mistaking the way he was bolting towards her, and there's no way a stray dog would be this trusting or excited - Hermione's face lights up. She doesn't even consider how vastly different she probably looks from the last time Sirius might have seen her (a teen and afraid and not entirely sure what she was doing with herself, trying to protect Harry from Death Eaters and feeling like an idiot compared to the older, scarred woman she was now).
All she can think about is seeing her friend again.
Bending down, she reaches out for him - and as soon as he's close she's pressing her hands against his fur, stroking over his head with all the gentleness and tenderness she can muster, her face breaking into a wider smile. ]
Is it really you, Sir- Padfoot?
[ It's not as if he has to be afraid about his identity here, but... ]
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All she can think about is seeing her friend again.
Bending down, she reaches out for him - and as soon as he's close she's pressing her hands against his fur, stroking over his head with all the gentleness and tenderness she can muster, her face breaking into a wider smile. ]
Is it really you, Sir- Padfoot?
[ It's not as if he has to be afraid about his identity here, but... ]