Sands of Destiny

by amidtheflowers

Summary:

"Knockturn Alley," Hermione breathed, and a rush of relief flooded inside of her. At least she didn't end up amongst cavemen or dinosaurs. Time-turner fic. Sirius Black falls behind the veil, the time-turners are destroyed, and a Gryffindor is going to change history.

Notes:

This story begins at the end of Order of the Phoenix when Harry and the gang go down to the Ministry of Magic. The rest is self-explanatory.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its respective characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This plot line, however, belongs to me.

Chapter 1: Beyond the Veil Again

Notes:

Thank you SO much for nominating and voting for Sands of Destiny! I love you all and I hope you enjoy the story. x

Trevor-the-toad made a fabulous gifset that you can find here.

11/2019: Chapters 1-13 are edited (still undergoing grammar edits though), and 14-23 are in the process of re-edits.

 

Chapter 1

Beyond The Veil Again

The last thing Hermione saw before collapsing was a wand pointed in her direction, and a jet of purple flames hitting her chest.

"Oh," she breathed, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Blackness swarmed around her, engulfing her in darkness. Her mind flailed wildly, trying desperately to remain conscious while the rest of her body failed her.

She could vaguely hear Harry's voice cutting through the fog engulfing her skull.

"Hermione, wake up…."

I’m trying, her mind said irritably.

"Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is…."

"She's alive?"

"Yeah, I dink so…."

And that was all.

She did not know how long she swam in the darkness, did not know when she regained the ability to move. Was she ever unconscious at all? It all came back slowly, though; first the sound of spells ricocheting off the walls, then the wretched sound of screams. When she finally cracked her eyes open, she nearly wished she hadn’t.

"SIRIUS!" she heard a voice bellow, and she grew frightened at the overwhelming amount of emotion behind it. "SIRIUS!"

Horror began bubbling inside of her when she recognized them to be Harry's hoarse screams. Her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, and she groaned. Her entire body was stiff, a burning sensation still on her chest where the Death Eater had shot his curse at her.

Hermione struggled to sit up, and saw a pair of legs beside her head, but they were jittering uncontrollably. She looked up to see Neville standing next to her, his nose bleeding profusely and his wand at the ready. He noticed that she was awake and relief flooded his face.

"Dank god you're awake," Neville said distractedly, and they both turned to where Harry stood.

"HE—IS—NOT—DEAD!" roared Harry. "SIRIUS!"

Dread filled her. Sirius had…somehow he…Hermione scrambled to her feet and whipped out her wand. "Finite," she said quickly, and Neville's dancing legs ceased.

"Dank you," he said gratefully, wiping the blood from his nose. She turned back just in time to see Lupin dragging Harry with him forcefully as anger reflected in Harry's piercing, green eyes, now overlaid with agony. Hermione's gaze whipped to the archway where the silvery veil fluttered, where Harry and Lupin had stood only moments ago, and sadness dawned on her when it all fell into place of what had happened there.

"No," she whispered.

Lupin looked over at her, realizing she was there. "Are you alright Hermione?"

It said something of his character that despite all the chaos, despite the immortally distraught young man in his arms, Lupin had noticed her at all. "Yes," Hermione answered, a little shakily. "I'm alright." Her eyes slid to Harry. His face was still as stone.

"Lets—let's find the others," Lupin forced out, as if every word was inflicting pain on him. "Neville, where are the rest?"

Neville explained where Luna, Ginny, and Ron were. Good lord. Above it all, amidst this battle scene, Hermione had been all of zero percent useful. A wave of shame hit her. She’d been knocked out cold, unconscious next to Neville’s jitterleg curse, while friends of hers got seriously injured. While someone on their side died. The naiveté of her conviction of Dumbledore’s Army now sat at the forefront of her mind. She felt small here in the Department of Mystery. She felt all of her fifteen years. Was it only a few hours ago, they’d been in the Room of Requirement cheerily practicing spells? Was it only an hour ago when she’d witnessed a new level of horror of Professor Umbridge’s cruelty?

Determination set in her face.

This needed to be fixed.

In the corner of her eye she saw the swish of Dumbledore's cloak, and the form of Bellatrix Lestrange who had bolted into a run, bounding up the staircase.

"Harry—no!" cried Lupin, but it was too late. Harry had wrenched free of his grip and followed Bellatrix up the stairs.

Panic began settling inside Hermione. She looked down at her hands, her wand shaking slightly in her tight grip. Sirius Black was dead. Harry's screams echoed in her mind, remembering the rage in his body when he wrenched out of Lupin's hold and ran after Bellatrix Lestrange. An image of Sirius's lazy smile flashed in her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut.

This needed to be fixed.

"Herbione, where are you going?" Neville said in alarm as she bolted off, trailing hot on her heels. She paused and pointed her wand to Neville's nose, and his eyes went wide. Muttering a spell, she watched face clear back to normal.

"Thanks," he said in surprise, gingerly touching his nose.

"You need to stay here," Hermione commanded. "Look after Ron and the others, keep the Death Eaters off from my trail if you can."

“Your trail? What’s your trail?” Neville said unsurely. "Where are you going?" But Hermione did not hear as she whirled around and went up the staircase—but where Harry had followed after Bellatrix, Hermione darted somewhere else.

Turn…down…another corner…

She barely flinched when a Death Eater appeared before her, and expertly hurled a curse his way, watching in satisfaction as he sank to the floor.

Just a bit further.

Suddenly she stopped. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath.

Hermione knew she was stretching in vain hope, that there was a fraction of a chance that any of this could be fixed, truly fixed, none the less by her. But she had to hope. She had to believe things could change.

She entered the room cautiously. It was overrun with wreckage from their previous battle; hundreds of shelves that once towered to the ceiling were now knocked over, shards of glass and debris littering the floor. There didn't seem to be any Death Eaters anymore, not even unconscious ones; they were likely still fighting the rest of the Order. Her eyes scanned the room frantically as her head buzzed with adrenaline. This could be it. She could change it. It was foolish, but there was a one in a million chance it could work. She could prevent this, prevent the horrors that had happened.

But how would you change it? a voice whispered in her mind. What could you do?

Hermione sucked in a breath as she caught a glimmer on the floor. Her shoes squelched painfully as she darted towards it and she dropped to her knees, pushing aside bits and pieces of rubbish. She was vaguely aware of something sharply stinging her knee, but pushed the thought aside.

Her eyes fell to the broken mess she'd been digging for, and her heart spiraled in despair.

"No!" she said vehemently, gripping her hair in anger. She'd already known, already guessed of course, but seeing the reality of it and having her hopes dashed was still painful.

All of the Time-Turners were irreversibly destroyed.

The cabinet in which they lay in was repairing then destroying itself repeatedly. Hermione could see through the drawer the Time-Turners whizzing out of control, though she could not detect where exactly the sand was. For her to reach into it would be far too dangerous. Either way, she knew that the sand had escaped from the time-turning device, as the ones she could see through the cabinet no longer held sand in their hourglasses. As if to further the proof, an empty one lay by her knees.

She traced the chain of the pendant delicately, tears welling in her eyes, though it took much restraint to prevent them from falling. Taking a steadying breath, she continued to watch with quiet despair as the cabinet repaired and destroyed itself in an interminable dance.

She did not know how long she sat there until a gentle hand brushed against her shoulder. She jumped and turned around, only to see the kind blue eyes of Dumbledore.

"Professor…"

"It is over," Dumbledore stated, his blue eyes staring sadly down at her. He offered her a hand and she stood up slowly from the broken Time-Turners. "At least, for now."

"Harry…the others...?"

"All returned to Hogwarts. I will be meeting with Harry soon, in fact. Unsurprisingly, Voldemort has fled yet again. As for the Ministry..." He shook his head. In true Dumbledore fashion, his tone was exceedingly calm. She wondered why he was bothering to explain to her at all.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Dumbledore continued, "You are injured, Miss Granger."

Looking down distractedly to where Dumbledore indicated, Hermione saw a shard of glass embedded in her knee. Dumbledore flicked his wand gently and the shard zoomed out of sight, and with another wave the skin that was torn healed. A pale, gentle scar was all that remained.

“I didn’t think it would scar,” she wondered aloud.

Dumbledore looked at her for a long moment. “You came here, I presume, to repair what has been done this night.” Silently, they observed the glitching cabinet that continued breaking and reforming.

“I did, sir.”

“Not all things can be fixed this way. You know this already, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet you thought—”

“I had to try, sir. I’ve done it before.” She looked imploringly at the headmaster. “I had to try.”

If she’d known any better, if she’d paid a bit more attention, she might have thought that a thread of sadness had found its way in Dumbledore’s watery blue eyes. As it was, she could only stare at the damaged Time-Turners with not a small amount of defeat.

"Miss Granger.”

The quiet tone made Hermione look up sharply at Dumbledore. He regarded her seriously. “There may come a time when I will ask something of you. If it was something you must do to protect the ones you love, would you do it?"

"I…I don't really understand." Hermione looked at the Headmaster in confusion as he turned to face away from her. He jingled something in his cloak lightly, but then turned around to gaze directly at her.

"Dark times are not ahead of us anymore, Miss Granger, they are here. Within these walls, and spreading like flames outside. It will infiltrate Hogwarts, and it will test us in its most cruelest, its most unmerciful. I am afraid, as I have been for quite some time, that you and your friends will reach this point in the near future." He looked at her gravely. "There may come a day when I will ask you of something, and it will be your choice whether to accept or not."

Hermione nodded. She still didn't fully understand what was going on, but Dumbledore raised his hand, and she hesitantly took it. "To Hogwarts, now. I'm afraid I am late for a meeting with a young Mr. Potter."

He gripped her fingers tightly and they Apparated back to Hogwarts' grounds. She looked up when Dumbledore turned to her with twinkling eyes. "Do not give up hope just yet, Miss Granger. All shall be well in time."

xxx

And in time, much would change.

Hermione's sixth year began, and she worked diligently. Her concern for Harry grew even more as he would often disappear with Dumbledore, including today. Even Ron had stopped becoming a prominent presence in her life (if not an irritable wart that she found herself still battling fond feelings for), as he had entered-and sustained-a relationship with Lavender Brown.

So much had happened, and yet nothing had happened at all.

It was a lush June evening when Hermione decided to quit the common room start early on her prefect rounds. Thoughts swirled in her mind; images of Harry, his eyes saddened; Ron's beaming smile after winning another match of Wizard's Chess; Ginny's raucous laughter as she linked her arms with Fred and George's, pelting dungbombs down the dungeons...

She could feel it in her bones, curling into her skin and wrapping around her abdomen like a vice. Things were changing, something had felt off throughout the entirety of the year. She growled when she couldn't discern why she felt this way, and increased her pace down the halls.

A pop! resounded against the corridor, and Hermione had her wand at the ready instantly. Her eyes scoured the hallway. She turned to her left when a shriek left her mouth.

"Professor!" she squeaked and lowered her wand immediately upon meeting a pair of twinkling blue eyes. "I-I thought you were with Harry? Is he here?" she hastily stuffed her wand back in her pocket. Realizing her forwardness, she cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir.”

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "No, I'm afraid he's still with me. Well, the present me. Though I am also the present me, but won't be for long. Would you come to my office please, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stared at him in confusion and nodded her head. Dumbledore smiled, leading her to the winged gargoyle that led to his office.

"Licorice wand," he said lightly, and the gargoyle sprang to life, leading the pair to a staircase. Once they reached his office, Hermione stood unsurely near his desk as Dumbledore sat in his armchair.

"Please Miss Granger, take a seat," Dumbledore said kindly, motioning to the seat opposite him. Obediently, she sat down.

They were quiet for several moments when Hermione cleared her throat. "Professor, why did you say Harry was—er—still with you, only not with you?"

Dumbledore nodded with a small smile. "It is because, my dear girl, I have broken the most detrimental rule of the universe by sitting here before you."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "I’m afraid I don't understand."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and leaned against the mahogany desk. "The night that Sirius Black died, you had gone back to the Department of Mysteries, yes?" Hermione nodded uncertainly, not sure where he was going with this. Dumbledore smiled. "You went looking for the Time-Turners stored there, but they had already been destroyed in the cabinet."

"Yes," Hermione affirmed slowly, but then slowly her eyes grew wide. "Professor, did you—"

"No," Dumbledore said quietly, and Hermione wilted in disappointment. "I do not wish for you needlessly raise your hopes on that matter, Miss Granger. The Time-Turners in the Ministry of Magic are irreparably gone from our world. But that does not mean there is no hope."

Hermione nodded and kept silent. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, before opening them again and gazing at her sadly.

"In your third year, Miss Granger, you used a Time-Turner to manage the extra classes you had signed up for. Naturally, you know how it works by now. You understand the consequences of having your past self come in contact with your present self. The outcome of such a thing would be astronomical.

"However, the Time-Turner's properties were very limited. Its time-traveling abilities were for the immediate past, which was all the sands of time allowed. The night you helped Sirius Black escape with Buckbeak, you turned the device three times to go back three hours. When you returned to the present—which was when you turned back time to rescue Sirius—your past self vanished and you became the present once more. The process itself is cyclical, repetitive."

Dumbledore paused, waiting for Hermione to let the information sink in. She already knew all of this, of course, as it had been explained to her when Professor McGonagall gave her the Time-Turner in her third year. She kept her lips pressed together, though, knowing Dumbledore would explain why this was important to know and why he was telling her this.

"However, that is not the only kind of Time-Turner in existence."

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"There are the Sands of Time, which were used inside of your Time-Turner. And then, there are the Sands of Destiny, which historically have never been found."

The Sands of Destiny? Hermione's impatience increased, and she threw all regards of impudence aside. "Professor, that is one of the oldest myths of witchcraft, and no such object has ever been proven to exist. What use is there of telling me of something that is impossible?"

"Because, my dear girl, such a device hasn't been found because no one went looking for it. The little grains of sand with such properties made one, and only one, Time-Turner. The Sands of Time allow a person to go back, at most, a day. But the Sands of Destiny can change history."

"But we did change history," Hermione interjected. "We saved Buckbeak from his death sentence when he ought to have been killed. We changed that. We saved Sirius from returning to Azkaban."

"You had done what your future had already created," Dumbledore said with excitement in his eyes. "Hermione, I am sitting here because I have damaged and broken the laws of nature, and will be thusly punished. I shall die tonight, as it had been predicted, and as I have recently discovered." Hermione's mouth opened in astonishment, but Dumbledore continued relentlessly. "I have a question for you, Hermione Granger, one that I am deeply remorseful to ask of you. Exactly one year ago I warned you of this. Do you remember?"

How could she forget? It was only the single-most mystifying conversation she'd ever had with the Headmaster.

"Professor…?" Hermione looked with apprehension as Dumbledore reached in the back of his neck and pulled off a necklace with a round pendant dangling gently. With utmost care, Dumbledore took her hand and placed the pendant on her palm.

A shock went through her when she gazed at it. It was a Time-Turner…only the sand was not golden as it should have been.

It was a deep, ruby red.

Her hand quivered, and fear coursed through her. Frightened eyes met sad blue ones. She had read about such an object in passing, only once, and not in great detail. But the fact that it actually existed, that Dumbledore had it in his possession…

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said shakily, "you used this tonight, didn't you."

"I did," he replied solemnly. "And though I regret it, there is a much larger picture to focus on. I have broken the rules of the universe by attempting to return to the present time…speaking of which, I don't think I'll be sitting here much longer. My aura, as Professor Trelawney has formidably said to me over the years, is passing quickly."

She began shaking her head, but Dumbledore smiled gently. "Do not be afraid, my dear Hermione."

"How could I not?" she said with almost a shrill voice.

"Because with that Time-Turner you have the power to save everyone you care about," Dumbledore replied without hesitance. "Because I have seen a glimpse of the future from which I have travelled, and it is far more grim than I thought."

He told her of the horcruxes, which he and Harry had been hunting for this year; he told her of the battle at Hogwarts, of Voldemort killing not only Voldemort's soul that was embedded in Harry but quickly killing Harry as well with a swift and wandless snap of his neck. He told her of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and all the other casualties of the war. He told her of the rise of the Death Eaters on the Ministry of Magic, and the horrors that plagued the Wizarding world in what should have been Hermione's seventh year of Hogwarts.

Hermione sat back in her seat, her mind exhausted and her eyes tear-filled. Too much, this was too much…“Why are you telling me all this, sir? Why me?”

Dumbledore regarded her seriously. “You, Hermione Granger, are not like the rest of your peers. I don’t say this to flatter, or to shape you into what I want you to do. When I saw you in the Department of Mysteries kneeling before the damaged Time-Turners, seeking to fix rather than destroy…I knew then that there was no other who could complete this task in the chance that I failed.”

Hermione absorbed this with both awe and trepidation. Yet despite this, a new determination bloomed inside her, a quiet voice that urged her on. She met Dumbledore’s gaze directly.

"Tell me what I have to do."

"I have not asked anything of you yet, Miss Granger."

"I know. You don't need to."

He gazed at her sadly. "You brave, brave girl."

She shook her head. "I would do anything to save the people that I love."

Dumbledore grew serious. "The one who uses this Time-Turner has only two chances. This is a clear departure from the Time-Turners you’re accustomed to. When you turn a knob, you do not turn hours, but years. When you turn another, you may go decades. Another, centuries. You must be careful when using it, and precision is of utmost importance. You may very well end up in a time when humanity did not exist yet. And that would be most problematic.

"One of the most crucial laws of this device, as you may have already guessed, is that once you turn back time, you are there permanently. You may never return to the present. Your presence in a certain part of history changes its course dramatically. And if you are ever to attempt to return to the present, then the paradox is created between you and your present self, and both forms die immediately." At her stunned expression, Dumbledore smiled gently. “Do you see now why I meant it when I said you have a choice?”

A lump formed in Hermione's throat, but she nodded. "I suppose this is what you did tonight. Used the Sands of Destiny and came back to your present. It’s why you’re going to die."

He smiled brightly. "Yes, I am afraid it is. I was the selfish old man and decided to peak into the future, rather than do what was right. For that, I beg you for forgiveness."

"No," she shook her head, "there is nothing to forgive. If I…I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” Licking her lips, she set her jaw with determination. “Tell me what I have to do, Professor Dumbledore. It has to be done."

He nodded with remorse. "You truly are the cleverest witch of your age." He removed his half-moon glasses and peered at her thoughtfully. "I believe three turns should still do it."

Her eyes grew wide with understanding and she gazed at the Time-Turner still in her hand. The red sand inside made her stomach turn into a knot, and there were several knobs on this Time-Turner. The possibilities were infinite.

"Should—should I take something with me?" she asked hesitantly.

His eyes twinkled, but this time it was not from the light. "That is a remarkable idea, Hermione, and you should heed it. Though, even I do not know the consequences if you were to bring part of the present to the past. Nevertheless…if the myth is true, you will be given your own life in the past you are going to."

“Time will rewrite itself to place me in the past.”

“Correct.”

She nodded carefully, and stood.

"Goodbye, Professor," she said quietly, eyes glistening. She took several deep, trembling breaths. But when she looked up, he was no longer there.

Tears fell on their own accord at his disappearance. She glanced at the Time-Turner in her hand. Alone. I am utterly alone.

She quickly swiped her eyes and ran up the staircase until she reached the seventh floor.

"Dilligrout!" she nearly shouted at the Fat Lady, and the door swung open. She clambered inside and crossed the common room. She paused at Ron's sleeping form on the sofa.

“You really are insufferable,” she said, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “I am sorry.” Gently, she touched her fingertips to the curve of his cheek. Then, she ran up to the girls' dormitory.

Once reaching her bed, she began by taking out her purse and swinging her wand fervently in the air, casting and Undetectable Extension Charm on the bag. Once completed, she began going through her things—her copy of Hogwarts, A History, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense against the Dark Arts were quickly thrown in, along with her clothes, quills, ink bottles, and several other textbooks she deemed important. She scoured her school trunk, and her heart stopped when she found the small leather-bound photograph book she had made over the years, filled with pictures of Hermione with Harry and Ron, among with pictures of the Order members and nearly everyone she loved. With a small hesitation, she put it inside as well.

Her hand grasped the Time-Turner once again, and stared at it anxiously.

Her eyes closed and a shaky breath escaped her lips. She didn’t want to say it, but she’d rather the empty air hear it than nothing. "Goodbye Harry. Goodbye Ron." Her lower lip quivered, and she whispered, "Mum, Dad..." Merlin, this was all wrong. All wrong. It had to be done.

Carefully, she draped the chain of the Time-Turner around her neck. She grasped the pendant, and carefully grabbed one of the knobs.

One…

She faintly heard a cackle that strikingly resembled Bellatrix Lestrange. The Death Eaters had invaded Hogwarts, Hermione realized. She grabbed another knob.

Two…

A single tear slid down her cheek.

Three…

The dormitory door slammed open and Hermione jumped, her finger slipping slightly on one of the knobs.

"No!" Hermione cried out desperately, but the deed was already done. She had slipped and moved the knob when she shouldn't have. Angrily she looked up and saw Lavender Brown staring at her.

"I..." Lavender's voice faltered when she saw the chain around Hermione's neck.

White-hot, blinding despair overtook her body, but Hermione disappeared before she could utter a word.

Chapter 2: The Boy On the Corner

Chapter 2

The Boy on the Corner

Hermione felt like hot pokers were pinning her at every side, blinding light invading her vision. She was falling down rapidly, as if somebody had pushed her off a cliff thousands of feet above the ground. She was too mortified to scream, too terrified to breathe, until her body crashed into dirt.

When she finally was able to breathe again, she blinked rapidly and spluttered the dirt from her mouth. Panting, she tried to adjust her eyes to her new surroundings, afraid of where the era the Time-Turner had thrown her in.

Why oh why did the cosmos despise letting missions go smoothly? Was it not bad enough she was embarking on a no-return journey to the past? At this point she should have expected Lavender to appear the untimely way she had, but the present uncertainty was all she could think about. She could be anywhere, at any point of time in history.

Time to take in inventory.

Hermione had fallen in a long stretch of dirt and cobblestone, where hardly any sunlight came through the dreary, narrow alley. She struggled to her feet and leaned heavily against a black, brick wall, hidden among the shadows. Though as she looked around, the place seemed strikingly familiar…

She moved away from the wall and took a tentative step down the path, and the more her vision cleared the more she recognized. The oddly shaped buildings, the dark, dreary paths…"Knockturn Alley," she breathed, and a rush of relief flooded inside of her. At least she didn't end up amongst cavemen or dinosaurs.

Her eyes immediately found the path that led back to Diagon Alley, and strode towards it. She still had her purse clutched in her hand, which she was eternally grateful for. All she needed was to know the date in order to turn the Time-Turner in the right decade. Thanks to this mix up, however, it would be final last time-turning opportunity—there were only two tries and she'd already buggered up the first one.

Hermione breathed in deeply when she walked up the steps and emerged into Diagon Alley. There were no witches or wizards walking around, which was a little odd, though she did hear a soft rumble of voices not far from her.

Anxiety crept up in her. What was she to do next? Knock on Ollivander's door and politely inquire what year it was? She began breathing rapidly as indecision and fear invaded her mind, her lungs stuttering against her ribcage.

"Are you having a heart attack?" a small voice said. She gasped and whirled around, shocked that somebody already noticed her, but more shocked that she hadn't noticed them. It wasn't until her eyes fell on the corner of the entrance to Knockturn Alley that she spotted the owner of the voice.

It was a boy, no older than eleven or twelve years. He was sitting down on the corner of the Knockturn Alley entrance with a stiffness that she could only translate as irritation, and his hair was long and coming into his eyes. She thought him almost adorable, but more prominently a threat at the moment.

"Are you?" he asked again. There was no malice in his voice, just curiosity.

Hermione didn't know what else to do, so she went with her instinct and shook her head. "I'm alright," she assured him softly.

"Are you sure, because you looked like just you saw a troll.”

Hermione's lips quirked up unwittingly at the boy's imagination. "Do you know many people who've seen trolls?"

The boy smiled.

Suddenly, she realized that it would be much easier finding out the date from a little boy than from skeptical adults. Smiling still, she approached him slowly.

"I'm quite alright, but thank you for your concern," Hermione said kindly. She kneeled slightly so he wouldn't be intimidated by her height. "Are you lost? Do you need help finding your mother?"

“Why on earth would I go looking for her?" the boy said in disgust that was plainly written on his face. Hermione suppressed a grin.

"You don't like her?"

"Never! And you're probably just like her too. So…bugger off."

Despite having a good five years on the boy, she found herself frowning.

"Why do you say that?"

"You just came from Knockturn Alley," he said plainly, as if it were obvious. "Everybody knows the people who go down there are nothing but blood lovers," the boy hissed, eyeing her as if she were one herself. "And my mother is down there, and you two are probably the best of friends."

Hermione’s lips twitch. “Now this is odd. Not a moment ago you were concerned if I was having cardiac arrest. Now I am a—what was it?”

“A blood lover.”

“Right. Well, I’m not.”

“Having cardiac arrest?”

“No—I mean, yes, that too. But the other bit.”

“I had a great uncle who went stiff and chokey the way you just were. You sure you’re not ill?”

“And now we’re back to concern of my wellbeing. You really ought to pick a side,” Hermione smirked.

The boy narrowed his eyes defiantly, noticing his mistake. Her gaze softened a little but she said to him in a very stern voice, "I am not a blood lover, and I certainly did not go to Knockturn Alley to chat up with that sort of crowd. In fact," Hermione dropped her voice a little as if she were telling him a secret. And it worked, because the boy's attention piqued as he stared at her with interest. "I'm not even pureblood. I'm a muggleborn."

"Really?" the boy smiled slightly, but warily.

"Cross my heart," she replied with a grin.

"So then how did you end up in there?" the boy asked again, glancing at the direction of Knockturn Alley. Hermione paused in thought.

"Well, I've never been on this side of Diagon Alley before. I got lost."

The boy laughed and shook his head in disbelief, but he no longer regarded her as cautiously. He even leaned his hands back against the cement and stretched his legs.

"I could help you around, if you like," he said good-naturedly. "I don't know why I'm even still sitting here waiting for my mum. I'd love to see the look on her face when she finds out I've run again. It'll take her ages to find me."

Hermione smiled. He glanced at her and looked down shyly before sticking out his hand to her.

"I'm Sirius Black, by the way," he grinned.

It took a lot of self-control to keep from visibly reacting, no matter how much her jaw wanted to drop to the ground. 

This was Sirius? Hermione thought incredulously. And as a child, no less! Almost immediately, though, her heart began to pang as she remembered his fate in her lifetime. How this little boy would grow up finding himself wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban, lose all the people that he loved, and then have his life ripped away from him when he disappeared behind the veil in the Ministry of Magic.

No, Hermione thought. It didn’t have to be that way. She was here permanently, was she not? She wouldn't let that happen. Things would change this time around. She'd make sure of it.

Hermione steeled herself from her spiraling thoughts concerning Sirius and quickly lifted her arm to take his proffered hand, shaking it firmly. He seemed surprised and satisfied at her firm grip, and smiled even wider.

"It's very nice to meet you," she managed to say, still smiling winningly. Inside, her mind was working fast. This time-turning blip could work in her advantage, but she had to move quickly. "Tell me, Sirius, are you going to start school very soon?"

"I'm starting at Hogwarts next week," Sirius said smugly. But then his smile faded as he got lost in thought. "Though I'm not really looking forward to the first day."

Hermione frowned. "Why is that?"

He seemed hesitant to reply, but begrudgingly answered her. "Well, everyone is expecting me to be someone I'm pretty sure I’m not. They…my family…my brother..." he trailed, and then sighed. "I think I'll have to be Slytherin."

Hermione frowned. This sounded nothing like the sure, confident Sirius she was used to. She’d assumed he’d always been that way.

"Have to be?”

“Yes.”

“You don't have to be anything."

"What would you know?" said Sirius. "You don't know me or my family. We're high status, true bloods. We have responsibilities." The words sounded so rehearsed that Hermione wondered how many times Sirius had been told it before.

Hermione shrugged, conceding to his point. "You're right; I don't know you. I assumed you to be brave and do what your heart desires, not what others desire from you."

Sirius glared at her stubbornly.

Changing tactics, Hermione said, "When I was at Hogwarts, there was a boy in my year who thought he'd end up in Slytherin, but what he really wanted to be was a Gryffindor."

Sirius's eyes widened. "Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“What happened?"

Hermione shrugged. "He believed in himself, and swore he would get in Gryffindor no matter what. And you know what happened? The sorting hat listened to him, and he ended up in Gryffindor just as he had set out to be in."

Sirius let these words sink in for a moment as his eyes had a distant look. "Do…do you think—hypothetically, of course—someone might be able to get the hat to listen to him this year?"

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

"Well, hypothetically, yes," Hermione said confidently, suppressing a smile. "You are your own person, Sirius. You are not your family's name. You can, and will, be who you want to be. You never have to do something or be someone just because others tell you to be that way."

Sirius face erupted in an ear-splitting grin and said, "You're absolutely right! I can do whatever the bloody hell I want!"

"Hey!" Hermione admonished, but he only laughed and stood up. Hermione rose as well, and realized she still had a mission to complete. He stared at her distractedly.

"What?" she said, gazing down at where he was looking.

He pointed at her knee. "Did someone hurt you too?"

She glanced down at the now-healed scar on her knee, but it was not the scar that caught her attention-but the soft choice of word: too.

Never had she felt such a sudden surge of sympathy and fury.

"No, it was an accident," she confirmed, and he looked up at her skeptically, debating whether she was telling her the truth. She decided to change the subject. "Sirius, could you do something for me?"

His eyes lit up. "What?"

"Could…could you tell me what date it is?"

"It's the twenty-fifth of August," he replied. Hermione bit her lip.

"Yes, yes, but…could you tell me the whole date?"

He stared at her with a puzzled expression. Slowly he replied, "Twenty-fifth August, 1971."

Nodding slowly, she fiddled with the Time-Turner in her pocket. She wasn't too far off from when she wanted to travel to. But when she glanced down at the young Sirius before her, dread filled Hermione's gut.

She had already changed the course of history by meeting Sirius Black too early, somebody she was definitely going to encounter when she turned the knob ahead a few years. This was not the plan Dumbledore had meant for her. She was not supposed to be in 1971 meeting anybody she'd see at Hogwarts in 1975.

Hopefully, she thought, Sirius's memory of her would be gone when she arrived as a fifth-year Hogwarts student.

Yet how she was going to manage pulling that off, she had no clue. While Dumbledore had spent a considerable amount of time explaining things to her, he had been remarkably vague.

"I hear my mum coming! You'd better leave!" Sirius suddenly whispered. Hermione nodded and began walking away, trying to find a good, secluded area where she would not get startled and could peacefully travel time. Unlike the previous situation.

"Will you go out with me?" Sirius shouted suddenly, knocking her from her thoughts, and Hermione's jaw dropped as a strangled laugh erupted from her throat.

"I think I'm a bit too old for you," was all she managed to say, but Sirius persisted.

"Would you like to have butterbeer with my uncle and I this evening, then? He'd love to meet you," Sirius said encouragingly, and as much as Hermione would've liked to say yes, she knew it would harm the outcome of the destination she was headed to.

"Sorry," was all Hermione could muster up to say, and without another word she quickly sped up her pace and left Sirius far behind.

"Oi! What's your name, at least?" Sirius persisted, but Hermione smiled and shook her head, then turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Soon enough she heard a female voice speaking in sharp tones, and knew Sirius would not be able to follow her. Her heart was still tugging sadly after she'd ignored his request. He'd find out her name soon enough though.

She breathed in deeply as she retrieved the Time-Turner from her pocket. Glancing around and making absolutely sure nobody was in sight, she grasped a knob and turned it four times.

She felt the familiar hot-poker suffocation from earlier that indicated that she would be time-travelling in a matter of seconds. Her eyes focused on the pendant, where the red rubies were swirling inside the little hourglass as she'd never seen happen before.

There really was no going back.

As she began to fade, amidst the blast of white light, she saw the figure of a boy appear at the entrance of the alleyway.

Sirius stared in confusion as he caught only the briefest glimpse of her eyes, and she disappeared.

Inside, Hermione cursed the world and wondered what damage she'd done this time, especially upon the eleven-year-old Sirius Black.

xxx

As she spiraled in the free-fall that the Time-Turner induced, she prayed silently that she would land in the right time upon the right circumstances. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the inevitable crash.

However, it never came. Hermione landed on the softest of surfaces, faintly catching the scent of lavender and fabric. Taking a breath, she cautiously opened her eyes.

Streaks of the evening sunlight were hitting her face through a window on the far side of the room she was in, and she realized she was lying on a bed. She shifted slightly and blinked. The bedroom was large and modestly decorated, much as her own bedroom back in her time had been. Sitting up quietly, she gazed around.

There were shelves filled with books, which she noted were mostly written by muggles; there was a writing desk located in front of the window, with bits of paper and pens littered on top, but a distinct, parchment letter was laid in the center. There was a bathroom and, much to her amusement, a Beatles poster elegantly hung on the wall above the bed. It was as if whoever designed the room had made a strong attempt to muggle-up the space as much as possible, if not on short notice.

If that wasn't proof enough, as Hermione wandered over to her wardrobe, she saw muggle clothes that were decades out of fashion. The bell-bottomed jeans made her smile. Did this mean she got it right? Was she in 1975?

Hermione took a deep breath and contemplated the circumstances. Was this her new reality now? Was this the one she'd be leading until the first Wizarding War? Until Lily and James Potter's son was kept safe from Voldemort? Until the horcruxes he'd already made were destroyed at Hermione's hands?

Was she even Hermione Granger anymore in this life?

Hermione distinctly recalled Dumbledore mentioning that the moment she knew her objective and turned back time, history would rewrite itself to fit her inside of it correctly. She wondered faintly if that had been done when she arrived in 1971 by accident, but disregarded it. Whatever the case, she was living here now, as it should have been.

Hermione walked briskly to the desk and searched the papers on it. Most were scattered writings about muggle historians, but soon wizard historians like Bathilda Bagshot surfaced. There were no letters, increasing her frustration. She needed to know her identity in this life!

Then the parchment letter caught her eye, and she held her breath. It had the Hogwarts emblem stamped into the wax. Slowly, she turned the letter over to read who it was addressed to.

Miss H. Granger

Furthest Room on the Left

12 Godric's Hollow

West Country, England

Her mind flitted nervously. She was still a Granger. How could she possibly still be a Granger? And she was living in Godric's Hollow? With trembling fingers she opened the letter, and read carefully.

Dear Miss Granger,

Your transfer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been filed and completed. You will be starting your fifth year on September 1st. The list of requirements and rules have been enclosed as well.

As your new Headmaster, I gladly await your arrival. Do not hesitate to ask for guidance, especially in dire times as these, for which you have most regrettably faced this past month.

Albus Dumbledore

Hermione took a steadying breath and dropped the letter back on the desk. She was starting her fifth year, just as planned, and was living in a house with the same name as her identity. She shook her head numbly. How had any of this happened? Who was she staying with, and what tragedy had fallen on her this month that enabled Dumbledore himself to write to her?

Hermione started with a jump when she heard a small knock on the door.

"Hermione?" a kind voice said through the door. Licking her dry lips and clearing her throat, Hermione answered, "Y-yes?"

The voice hesitated. "Dinner is ready, dear. Feel free to come down whenever you’re ready."

She felt her heart beating quickly. The voice was soft and gentle, warm like a mother’s. "I'll be down in a minute….Thank you," she added quickly, unsure of what to do next.

"Alright dear, don't be too long."

Soft footsteps faded, indicating that the woman who had been at the door was gone. Hermione's shoulders slumped and she dropped down on the bed. Her eyes wandered to the purse that was lying atop it, and the golden Time-Turner with its red grains of sand now all but gone. To the left of it was her wand.

Sadness crept up inside Hermione, one she hadn't allowed since she had left Dumbledore's office—something that felt like happened days ago, when in reality it was less than an hour. This was it. This was her new life. Never again would she see Ron's ginger tufts of hair, nor Harry's forest green eyes. At least, not the same way she had. If all went well in this era, they would be born in due time, but she wouldn't be their best friend; not in the way she had once been.

They wouldn't meet on Hogwarts Express, they wouldn't go to the Quidditch World Cup together, wouldn't stay up all night writing Potions essays. Everything would change. They would never know Hermione Granger the best friend, but Hermione Granger the adult, who may or may not still be alive by the time they grew up.

Unknowingly, tears sprung from her eyes and they fell silently on her lap. She had lost everything, all to change the fate of the world.

In her solitude she did not notice the soft knock or door opening, nor the tall figure hovering against the doorjamb. It wasn't until a throat cleared that she jumped, eyes snapping up quickly.

"Whoa, sorry," the boy said quickly with his hands raised, embarrassed to have caught her so off-guard. He saw her wet eyes and he shifted a little unsurely.

Her heart leapt in her throat. “Good Merlin,” Hermione breathed, dumbstruck. "Harry?" It was unmistakable. The same jet-black hair that stuck out at every end, the glasses, the same smile—

"James, actually," the boy corrected brightly. "Sorry to barge in like this. Terribly rude. But I was just thinking we could head down dinner together. I know Mum already called you, but…" He took a step back, probably in response to her gaping. Which she was still doing. Hermione realized her jaw was still hanging and snapped her mouth shut. “Figured you’d much rather want to know your new—er—brother. Not rightly sure if that’s what we are yet. Are we? We could suss it out while we go. Or, head down to. To eat, that is.” He smiled again.

Hermione blinked in surprise.

…James Potter? She was living with the Potters?

Quickly, she dried her eyes and stood up. "Of course," she said with a little smile, though she couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so much like Harry, it almost hurt to look at him. And it was true what everyone had told Harry—he looked exactly like his father, except for his eyes. They were brown, not the familiar green that Harry had possessed.

James’s smile brightened and he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Let's go, then," he turned around and led her out of her room.

They walked quietly down the steps until James perked up and asked, "So, er, how do you like it here so far? I mean, I know you only just moved in last night. And you’ve slept most of the day. But you saw the hallway and the stairs and the bedroom. How do you like the bedroom?"

Good lord, he was chatty. Hermione stifled a smile. It was so unlike Harry, but exactly like him just the same. James spoke quickly and without pause; Harry had long pauses and tended to stammer when feeling awkward.

"It's been very well," Hermione replied with a smile. "The bedroom is very nice.”

“Did you like the poster?”

“I did.”

“Beatles fan, then?” He smiled knowingly.

“We are in England, James.”

He grinned, and Hermione couldn’t help but pause at how Harry that smile was. Her throat began to close up. Blinking rapidly, Hermione forced her gaze ahead.

“Hermione?” He noticed her shift in mood and looked at her with concern.

Hermione forced the thoughts of Harry and her life to the back of her mind. “Thank you for letting me stay here, James. You and your family."

He shook his head. "Don't even worry about it."

When she arrived at the Potters' dining room, she nearly gaped in awe at the enormous table that stretched endlessly. The dining room itself was impressive; a glittering chandelier was perched just above the center of the table, fine oak and mahogany cabinets with delicate silverware and china lined the ends of the room. Crystalline glasses and goblin-made goblets were placed at the table, and the room was lined with plush carpeting and perhaps the most comfortable chairs she'd ever seen. She was slightly surprised at the wealth the Potters seemed to own, and wondered if any of that privilege James clearly had inherited had anything to do with how much Snape had despised him.

It took less than a minute to get the sense that James and his parents did not know her well. They would glance at her nervously, fleeting little smiles directed her way. Yes, definitely they didn’t know her. She wondered why she was living with them at all. Why the Potters, of all families?

The man whom she presumed was James's father cleared his throat.

"So, Hermione," he said with a kind smile, "are you looking forward to starting Hogwarts tomorrow?"

She fought off a double take. Was it August 31st already? Panic ignited in her. Did she even have her school things? Her robes, requirements, textbooks—technically she had books stored in her purse but they were all from her sixth year—

"Yes," she answered, fighting of the hysteria attempting to edge its way out of her. She forced a smile. "I am eager to start term, sir.”

"Charlus," he smiled briefly. "As I said last night, there’s no need for formalities. Or am I to suspect that you’ve forgotten our names already?"

Hermione froze, but sighed inwardly in relief when Charlus broke into a laugh.

"Oh, don't tease the poor girl," the woman sitting across from her reprimanded. She turned to Hermione and her gaze softened. "But I do agree with my husband. Feel free to call me Dorea, dear. Though Charlus has zero regard of others’ feelings when it comes to ill-timed jests." She shot a dirty look at Charlus, who looked rather put out. Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

Everyone stared at her in surprise.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, and lowered her eyes to her plate. James nudged her lightly on her shoulder, a grin on his face.

"Hey, don't let us stop you from having a laugh. I know I never do," James said good-naturedly, and a flicker of Harry came to her mind again. Hermione smiled and nodded, resuming her dinner.

"You better watch yourself this year, James," Dorea warned darkly. "Having a laugh with your friends will not get you an 'O' on your OWLs." Hermione nodded to herself, remembering the trouble Harry and Ron had as they skived off in their fifth year instead of studying for the OWLs. They’d sobered somewhere around two weeks before the exams, but unfortunately for Ron, who did not receive a single 'Outstanding', it had not been enough.

"Speaking of troublemaking friends." Charlus gave a mischievous smile. "Where's the motley crew, then? I thought they would be joining us for dinner tonight?" He turned to Hermione. “We’d hoped you could familiarize yourself with some of our son’s friends so that your first day at Hogwarts wouldn’t be so much of a shock.”

“They had to cancel,” said James, shrugging. "They needed to finish packing for tomorrow. Lazy bums, should've done it earlier."

"Says the one who's not even halfway done," Dorea noted, and Charlus chuckled. Hermione found herself smiling again. The love this family had was something she didn't get to see too often. Her thoughts drifted to her own family. Her parents were probably around here somewhere, though still unmarried most likely. She frowned. She could probably never meet them again.

It didn't matter, though. She was in this time to fix the damages of the future, not to faff about and cry for what she’d lost. She had told Dumbledore that she'd do anything to save the people that she loved. And this was how she was going to do it.

Hermione began to pace in her mind. She was a fifth year again, so that gave until the end of year seven to not only make sure she found the Horcruxes, but destroy them as well. And, if she could somehow prevent a few future Death Eaters from joining Voldemort, well, that would be a bonus extra-curricular…

The first that came to mind was Peter Pettigrew. Because of that vile man, Lily and James Potter were killed and Harry was left orphaned. Not only that, but Sirius Black spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. Hermione closed her eyes. Yes, he would have to be considered first.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright?"

Hermione snapped out of her reverie and looked at Dorea, who was gazing at her with concern. She fidgeted nervously in her seat and nodded, noticing the rest of the Potters' eyes were trained on her carefully.

"Still a bit tired." She managed a small smile. Dorea nodded gently and continued to eat, looking up at her once in a while with concern. Hermione quietly pushed her plate away from her. "Do you…may I be excused? I think I’m still rather exhausted."

"Of course, of course!" Charlus said quickly, motioning for her to leave. "This is your house now, dearie, you can do as you please."

"I certainly do," James added, earning him a fierce glare from his mother. Hermione thanked them and began to pick up her plate to take to the kitchen.

"Oh no, no, dear, the house-elves will clear that away," Dorea intervened, and Hermione hesitated.

"It's no trouble, Mrs. Pott—ah—Dorea," Hermione smiled politely, picking up her plate. "I did this all the time at home." She left the Potters staring at her retreating form in shock.

Finding the kitchen was a difficult task, but after a few moments she pushed open an oaken door and found herself in a kitchen the size of a classroom at Hogwarts. Her breath sucked in, and she took a step inside.

There were perhaps a dozen house-elves doing various tasks around the kitchen. Some were scrubbing dishes rigorously, others were dusting the shelves, and a good amount were cooking over stoves and putting things inside an oven. It was bustling with activity, and they seemed so excited with their work, that Hermione felt like she was crashing a party with her plate of half-eaten dinner.

She cleared her throat and the house-elves all froze, consecutively. It was…jarring.

"Hello, miss!" the nearest house-elf addressed.

"I brought a plate," she explained somewhat lamely, when a round of gasps echoed in the kitchen.

"You shouldn't have, miss," the elf said gravely. "We is at your service, it is our job to serve the noble guests of my Masters."

"Thank you, but it was no problem," Hermione stammered as the plate was snatched from her by another house-elf and was being scrubbed clean immediately. She looked back at the elf and held out her hand. "I'm Hermione."

The elf looked like she would have rolled to the ground had a nearby house-elf not squawked and grabbed her hand, pushing it towards Hermione for her to shake. “She is called Mipsy, miss.”

"You must pardon us, miss," said Mipsy, shaking with such gusto and strength that Hermione had to hold back a wince. “Not many visitors have…” her large, glassy eyes continued staring up at Hermione.

Hermione smiled. "There’s nothing to pardon.” She was relieved that these house-elves were clothed and managed properly, unlike many others she'd seen back in her time. The Potters were good masters, but clearly having a stranger treat them with as little as a handshake was not very common.

"You is kind, miss. Verily," a smaller house-elf decided, and the others nodded rigorously in agreement.

"Shall we get you anything else, Miss Hermione?" Mipsy asked, and the other house-elves joined in trying to serve her.

"Some ice-cold water?"

"A pillow for Miss Hermione's comfort?"

"A plate of fresh cookies for Miss's long journey to Hogwarts tomorrow?"

"A bath before Miss retires to bed—"

Hermione quickly grew overwhelmed by the eager responses from the house-elves and was forced to interrupt them.

"Thank you so much, but I'm just going to go to sleep right now," Hermione interjected loudly, but with a smile nonetheless. "The food was delicious."

A unanimous squeal of approval erupted and Hermione stepped out of the kitchens and waved goodbye, then closed the door behind her.

She breathed in deeply. It would be long night, and she needed to start preparing immediately.

As Hermione approached the winding staircase that led to her bedroom, she noticed the Potters were still seated at the dinner table and were speaking in hushed voices.

"So, she's a bit of a nutter—"

"James!"

"What, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing! You saw her, all dazed and jumpy—"

"You tell me how you'd act if a group of Death Eaters tortured and killed us and almost killed you!"

A beat. "Yeah, I suppose, sorry 'bout that…"

She heard Charlus's voice lower. "Dorea, dear, how do we know the Grangers again? I know the Ministry said she had no family left and we were the immediate contacts…"

A loud smack was heard and Charlus groaned. "Shame on you, Charlus Potter! They're old family friends! Just because we may not have seen the Grangers in a little over twenty years—"

"—Or a hundred—" she heard James add.

"—Doesn't mean we don't help someone in need!"

There was a long silence. Then, "…We have close muggle family friends?"

Another loud thump was heard, and Charlus yelped. "Clearly they weren't just any muggles," Dorea Potter's voice dropped quietly. "The girl is different. Did you know she was reportedly tortured by the Cruciatus Curse for an hour? Frankly I'm amazed she's holding conversation as well as she was. Her parents…"

Hermione had heard enough. Quietly she turned back to the winding staircase and made her way up another flight before reaching her room.

Tortured by the Cruciatus Curse for an hour…

So that was what had happened. It was too bad that Hermione had no knowledge of how she came about to such a horrid disposition, but Dumbledore had mentioned that history would rewrite itself to place her accordingly in it.

So if Hermione wanted to be a Hogwarts fifth year in 1975, she would have to live as an orphaned girl living with the Potters.

The reality of her permanent stay in 1975 was confirmed with the massacre of the Granger family. That meant her father, whoever he was in this time, was gone, and the Granger line ended indefinitely. She would not be ‘born’ in 1979 as she was supposed to.

Very well.

Hermione closed the door behind her softly and stared around at the large room that was her bedroom. For having arrived only just last night, it was already very personalized to Hermione's tastes. The posters, the plain writing desk, the sheets…

Her eyes wandered to a Hogwarts trunk that lay underneath her bed, and Hermione knelt down to the floor. She yanked it out and carefully opened it, and found all the required textbooks and supplies had already been bought for her.

Her eyes wandered to the purse lying on the bed, which was filled with everything she felt she needed before her time-turning journey. Suddenly she realized how reckless she'd been—if anyone were to find the books in there, or worse, the photo album…

A knock on the door halted her thoughts, and she replied a soft, "come in".

James's head popped in the doorway, and he grinned. "’Lo. Ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, looks like I'm already packed," Hermione nodded, and couldn't help but smile at the crooked grin that was plastered on James's face. "What is it?"

"Well, I was hoping—if you're done with your packing, of course—if you'd like to, ah…"

"Help you pack?" Hermione finished his sentence, and rolled her eyes when James nodded sheepishly.

"I just thought, you know, it'd go by much faster if the two of us did it together, and it'd definitely give us a chance to know each other bit."

Hermione accepted and headed with James to his room, which was directly across from hers. His room was surprisingly well kept, but she supposed she'd have to give the house-elves some credit for that. He really didn't have much left to pack, just a bunch clothes that needed to be folded and placed inside his trunk.

"So, what's your story? What school did you used to go to?"

Hermione froze for the millionth time that night. What the hell was she supposed to say here? She didn't bloody well know, and if she answered incorrectly and if James were to find out about it, she'd look suspicious.

She shrugged and replied, "I..well, just a school.” A beat. “Up north. Very, very north. I was homeschooled a lot too. Nothing like Hogwarts, I'm sure, but it was very good."

James nodded and continued with his questions. "So did you like it there? What stuff have you learned already?"

"I think it's my turn to ask questions," Hermione said playfully, and James laughed but nodded. "Do you like it at Hogwarts?"

"Are you kidding? If I were to have a second home, Hogwarts is it. I love it there—getting to spend an entire year learning spells and hanging with my mates? I couldn't ask for more."

Hermione grinned at his enthusiasm and secretly agreed. It was exactly why she loved going to Hogwarts, as well. It felt like…home.

They spent the rest of the night conversing and getting to know each other while packing. At the end, when Hermione was about to leave his room, she noticed James smiling slightly.

"What?"

"You're a bit of alright, Granger."

Hermione smiled unsurely. "Thanks, I suppose. I'd say the same, but I'd be lying."

He laughed. "Oh yes, my friends will definitely like you."

Hermione's grin froze temporarily before she gathered herself and nodded in agreement, bidding James goodnight.

As Hermione lay in bed, she fought down the anxiety of meeting the rest of James's friends, whom she knew very well were going to be Remus, Sirius, and Peter.

Dread gripped her stomach. She prayed Sirius wouldn't recognize her as the girl he'd met by Knockturn Alley four years ago.

xxx

"This way," James ushered her quickly as Hermione struggled to keep up with him. They were already boarded on the train and had said their goodbyes to the Potters. He helped put her trunk up with the others and she muttered a grateful thank you, before having herself lurched forward when he grabbed her hand and led her through the compartments.

"Don't you think—we should—slow down?" Hermione panted as she squeezed through a crowd of students.

"Courage, Granger! You don’t want to end up in Hufflepuff, do you?"

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Hermione huffed and wished he knew just how much of a Gryffindor she actually was, but kept her lips tightly closed. Her heart thudded when she saw a familiar head poke out of a compartment four doors down.

"Oi, James! Over here, you lazy arse!" the young man said, and Hermione felt herself go warm.

"Shove off, Sirius!" James hollered back, and gripped her hand tightly as Sirius disappeared behind the compartment door. She suddenly dug her heels in the ground, and James looked back at her when she stopped moving.

"What is it?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed. "Are—are you sure you want me to sit with you guys? I could find another—"

"Don't be silly," James grinned and pulled her forward. "My friends are your friends. I promise there’s nothing to be worried about."

They paused in front of the compartment, and Hermione took a deep, steadying breath as James slid the door open.

She recognized Lupin first. Even as an adolescent he was pale, but his face was much younger and, she dared to think, much more handsome than she’d ever seen. He had soft brown hair and was already dressed in his Hogwarts robes.

Sitting opposite him was a boy she guessed was Peter Pettigrew. He was young and very small, much different from the decrepit traitor he was when Hermione met him. She couldn't help the instinctual dislike that immediately flared inside of her, but she squashed it down. He wasn't a murderer or a traitor yet. Hermione had the chance now to change that.

Peter was currently giggling excitedly at something Lupin had said, and her eyes travelled to the young man sitting to his left.

Sirius looked…different.

Hermione's conscious kicked her as she tried to stop herself from staring at him, but it was a losing battle. He had dark hair that fell around his face and eyes, which were a deep, silvery grey. His jaw was angled, as were the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. He held the appearance of bored elegance without even trying, and an unmistakable air about him that made him feel almost unapproachable. This was not the young boy she met in 1971, nor the tired man with sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks that she’d met after his escape from Azkaban. This was a Sirius she had never known.

James cleared his throat as he entered, and the laughter died a little. "Everyone," he said proudly, "This is Hermione Granger, the new addition to my—and our—family."

Lupin smiled good-heartedly at her and held out his hand, “Remus Lupin.”

“You can call him Looney Tunes,” James said helpfully.

“Remus is fine,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Remus,” Hermione said warmly.

Peter held out his hand next, smiling somewhat shyly. “Peter Pettigrew.” Hermione shook his hand with a smile. There wasn’t a trace of unkindness or deceit in his eyes, nothing but genuine kindness. It left her somewhat stunned to know what would—what could—become of him.

Sirius was staring at her silently.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as he continued to look at her without saying a word. She cleared her throat and fought off the blush that threatened to creep up her cheeks, and took a few steps towards Sirius.

"Hermione Granger," she smiled pleasantly and held out her hand.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Erm…no?”

He glanced at her outstretched hand and then back at her. He shook his head. “I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Hermione shook her head, eyes wide and heart thudding in her chest. Please don’t think on this, please don’t think on this…

“Have you been to Leicester Square this summer?”

James snapped, "For Merlin's sake, Sirius, don't be a prat and shake the girl's hand." Remus and Peter chuckled, but even Hermione heard the faintest edge in James's voice. Sirius blinked and raised his hand, shaking hers, and she smiled as she shook it firmly. His eyes widened a little but he gave her an easy grin "Sirius Black, nice to meet you. I swear I’m not always prat when I meet people."

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hermione answered, before turning to take a seat directly across from him.

"So you're a transfer student?" Remus asked genially, the first to strike a conversation with her. Hermione nodded with a small smile.

"Why'd you transfer?" Peter asked, only to look immediately sorry; James had kicked him hard in the shins and Remus sighed.

Sirius swiped at the back of Peter’s head. “You can’t just ask someone why they’ve transferred, you dingus.”

Peter blushed. "I-I’m terribly sorry. You don't have to answer, it was my mistake, honestly-"

"Really, it's okay. Not like all of Hogwarts won't find out by the time I step off the train anyway." She turned to Peter and took a breath, but Remus cut in.

"It's alright," he said kindly. "You really don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to." Hermione looked at him in surprise, and fell silent.

Peter, clearly hoping to amend his earlier mistake, tried to change topic. "So what house do you think you'll end up in?"

"I'm hoping for Gryffindor," Hermione answered honestly.

"And why is that?"

It was Sirius who asked the question. He was looking at her intently, and Hermione lifted her chin proudly.

"Because it's the best."

Sirius's lips quirked into a faint smile, and her eyes trained on them for a moment, noticing how soft they looked. She quickly averted her gaze and saw Sirius looking at her with slight amusement. He still remained unusually silent, as if contemplating her deeply.

Trying to remember her.

Gratefully, the compartment door opened and an elderly woman appeared. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"God yes, I'm starved," Hermione jumped up, wishing to escape the odd atmosphere in the compartment. She closed the door behind her and reached down her pocket to take out some of the money the Potters had most graciously given her. She bought Two Chocolate Frogs, a licorice wand, a handful of pumpkin pasties, and a single box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She almost wanted to keep buying things just to delay her return to the compartment.

James, Peter, and Remus weren't really affecting her as much as Sirius was. It was bad enough that he'd caught a glimpse of her time-travelling, nonetheless trying to remember her now that she appeared back in his life. But she was just as guilty, for she couldn't seem to help from straying her eyes to meet his, which disturbed her immensely.

There was definitely something wrong with her.

Hermione reached the handle to the compartment when she overheard a bit of the conversation inside.

"—told me she was a nutter!" Remus exclaimed incredulously.

"And she was! Until she actually started talking, she's quite alright now—"

"She seems nice," Peter added quietly.

"Very," Remus agreed. "Pity about what happened to her—"

"I've met her before," Sirius said in a low voice.

Hermione dared not breathe as a silence fell in the compartment.

"You're barking," James smirked.

"He's thinks he’s met all pretty girls before," Remus chuckled. She heard Sirius chuckle but he said no more. The conversation drifted from topic to topic, Hermione took that as her cue.

She swung open the door and marched in, throwing some of her sweets to the boys as she walked by.

"Aw, you didn't have to, Herms," James grinned while taking a hefty bite out of a pumpkin pasty, and Hermione's eye twitched at the nickname. "But I'm glad you did."

“Herms?”

“Everyone gets a nickname,” James explained.

"It’s the rules," Remus said as he opened the Bertie Botts box.

"Believe me, I think it’s ridiculous too,” Peter said around a mouthful of pumpkin pasty. Shaking her head, Hermione sat in front of Sirius with two chocolate frogs and a licorice wand.

"Take one." she held out her hands encouragingly. Sirius gazed at her for a moment and ran a hand through his hair before carefully selecting a chocolate frog.

Hermione smiled. "Good choice. They're my favorite," she said, and Sirius grinned. "And it's Hermione, if you don't mind." Hermione looked pointedly at James.

Sirius stretched lazily in his seat, biting the head off the frog. He flashed her a grin. “For now.”

"So," Remus started as Sirius shoved the rest of the chocolate in his mouth, puffing out his cheeks. It was such a Ron thing to do that it was uncanny. "Figure you'll do alright here?"

"I don't see why not," she replied loftily, unwrapping her chocolate frog.

"You better watch out for the Slytherins," James warned.

"Especially old Snivelly, he'll grease up your clothes just by looking at him," Sirius added with a chuckle.

Hermione's brows knitted, frowning. They were referring to Snape. She recalled what Dumbledore had told her about him in his office and shifted a little uncomfortably.

"I don't think that's very nice, talking about people like that," Hermione said quietly.

James snorted. "You say that now, Hermione. Just wait until you meet the bloke."

Hermione said nothing, and noticed Sirius was staring at her again.

"Sirius, remember what happened with Snape and the giant squid?"

He erupted in a massive grin. "Ah, the good old days," he laughed, shaking his shaggy hair away from his eyes. "Think we can top that one this year?"

"We better, or I might actually start doing my own homework."

The compartment erupted in laughter and Hermione's lips twitched. At least she was fortunate enough to land herself among people with a sense of humor, even if it was grinding her insides.

"We're almost there," Remus noted as he looked out the window. "You all better change."

They all pulled on their Hogwarts robes as the train slowed to a stop and steam burst from the engine one last time. James led her through the train. She began taking her trunk but a pair of hands grabbed the handle and effortlessly picked it up. She looked up to find Sirius hauling it away.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"No problem," he answered easily, and the two stepped off the train. He began gazing at her again, his brows furrowing.

"Hermione," he said suddenly, and Hermione glanced up with her heart pounding.

"Yes?"

"Have we met before?" His eyes were searching hers, as if demandingly saying, tell me the truth, or I'll find out anyway.

But it was not this day.

Firmly, she shook her head. "No, I don't think so.” Something about the way he was looking at her loosened something inside Hermione, something she’d never felt before. With a slow smile, she tilted her head up at him. “I'd remember someone like you."

He seemed surprised, and had a curious half-smile on his lips as they walked ahead to the carriages.

Sirius suddenly whistled low and shook his head. Hermione glanced up at him. "What?" she inquired, but he merely pointed ahead.

Hermione groaned inwardly.

"Let me get those for you," she watched James say to a girl with long, red hair, and he pointed his wand at her things. "Locomotor trunks!"

A loud groan resounded as the girl kicked him in the shins, the spell ending quickly. "I don't need your damned help, Potter! Stay away from me!"

Sirius and Hermione hissed in a breath when the girl grabbed the trunk and shoved it violently so the end hit James in the leg as well, and he hobbled over towards the pair with a wince.

"Honestly, what is this new fashion of hitting the shins?" James grumbled, pushing his unkempt hair back.

"I think it's just you, mate," Sirius replied, attempting to stifle a laugh. Hermione turned away to hide her grin. Sirius watched her with amusement before his eyes glazed, and he looked away from her.

Yes, he definitely remembered something.

They’d climbed into the carriages without another word when suddenly a sharp pain gripped her body and all the air escaped from her lips. She doubled over and her hands curled into fists, her nails digging fiercely into her palms and drawing spots of blood. Her spine straightened and Hermione's head shot up in the air as painful spasms coursed through her body.

"What's happening?" she heard Peter exclaim in fright, and she felt a pair of strong arms holding her tightly as her muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

Oh god, oh Merlin, what is happening to me? Hermione thought desperately as her body seized uncontrollably.

"Hermione?"

"Someone get help!"

"I think it's—it's the aftereffects of the curse…"

She felt a hand stroking her back gently, until finally her muscles relaxed. After a long while she opened her streaming eyes. She was panting, and someone was still holding her softly.

James's face came into vision. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

She licked her dry lips and nodded slowly, taking deep breaths of air. Slowly the arms around her loosened, and she looked up and saw Sirius holding her up. “I’m fine,” she said, somewhat breathless as her frame still shook with phantom pain.

“Are you sure?” Sirius asked.

"That looks painful," Remus noted quietly, looking at her palms. She looked down and saw the crescent shapes that her nails had cut into her skin.

"I'll be fine," she muttered, but inside she was frantic. What the hell? Was she really having side effects from the Cruciatus Curse? But…but that hadn't really happened to her, it was just a story been created by…by…

Horror dawned upon her. Though she may not have experienced what had happened to her, it was the story that history had written for her in this decade. And now she was truly living it.

In her distress she took out her wand and quickly did a healing charm on both palms. It was only when she sighed and looked around that she saw all four friends staring at her incredulously.

"You already know how to do nonverbal spells?" Remus said in a mix of disbelief and awe. She felt her throat constrict.

"Well, yes, I…I mean, my old school…"

"Everybody off the carriages!" a loud voice boomed, and she sprung out as quickly as possible, shivering against the chill night air. Nobody questioned her again, deciding to ignore everything that had happened in the carriages for the sake of not making Hermione uncomfortable.

Professor McGonagall came into view right in front of her. "Hermione Granger?" she asked briskly, and Hermione nodded. "Come with me please."

She followed behind the quickly moving Professor, and turned to have one last look at the Marauders, but it was Sirius who was the only one to watch her disappear into the castle.

Chapter 3: Vivera

Chapter 3

Vivera

"No need to look so frightened, Miss Granger, we're just sorting you into your house early," the brisk voice of Professor McGonagall interrupted Hermione's racing thoughts. Silently she followed Transfiguration teacher down the familiar corridors, straying from the Great Hall. From the path McGonagall was taking her, Hermione realized they were headed straight to the Headmaster’s office.

Swallowing hard, she glanced up at the stern-looking teacher and wished she knew who Hermione was. Professor McGonagall always had a soft spot for Hermione out of all her students. Her flawless grades were a majority of the reason, but something else had led the strict witch to hold some affection for her.

None of that existed now as McGonagall led her to a very familiar winged gargoyle. "Lemon Toffee," she said tersely, and the gargoyle's wings sprang open with life, leaping away. McGonagall led her up the staircase.

The room was almost exactly the same as it was when Hermione had last seen it. The walls were mounted with portraits of previous Headmasters, the shelves brimming with oddments and spinning contraptions. A chair stood delicately in front of an oaken desk, and Dumbledore was seated behind it.

His half-moon glasses did not obscure his familiar watery blue eyes. His white hair was not flowing as long as it normally had; rather, his beard just barely grew past his chest and his emerald robes were contrasting strikingly against his graying hair.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled, and the witch nodded curtly before exiting the office. His attention went back to Hermione. "Hello, Miss Granger.”

Hermione swallowed. "Good evening, Professor."

"Your trip to Hogwarts went well, I presume?"

"Yes sir.”

"Professor McGonagall brought you here upon my request," he admitted. "I thought it would be tedious, having you wait to be sorted after all the first-year students." He regarded her kindly. “Unless, of course, you wish to be sorted with the rest.”

“No, this is fine. Thank you, Professor,” said Hermione.

Dumbledore watched her softly. "I also wished to offer my deepest condolences for the troubles you have faced this summer."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied, "but I am quite alright. The Potters…everyone has been so kind to me. I really am in more a debt than I am in sorrow."

"You brave, brave girl," Dumbledore said sadly, and a small shock coursed through her. He had said those very words before she turned back time. The return of the phrase was…unsettling.

"There are a few things I wish to discuss before placing the Sorting Hat on you," Dumbledore began. "First, a question of your hospitality at the Potters. I admit it may be a bit soon to have a strong opinion, seeing as you only stayed at their house for two days—"

"Professor," Hermione interrupted, smiling kindly. "I assure you, they are the most generous people I've ever met. Truly, I am fine."

Dumbledore smiled. "I thought just as well. I feel I should remind you that should you need any help, I am here to help any student who requires it." He watched her carefully. "It is not often when a Dark Mark is set upon a Muggle house and there are still survivors inside of it. This should not be confused with luck," Dumbledore said softly, "but perhaps a strong sign that you are needed in this world just a little longer."

Hermione smiled, but secretly wished somebody would just tell her what exactly had happened to her that that night. She understood only two things: her family’s murder and her own torture. But what had precipitated it? Why was she left alive? Did she escape? All she knew was that circumstances were grave enough that the Headmaster himself was overseeing her safety.

Suddenly, she felt a wave of weariness Harry had often described, where everyone looked at him like he was going to die any minute.

All she knew was she was still Hermione Jean Granger, a muggleborn who had muggle parents. But the universe made sure she could never come in contact with her family bloodline ever again.

She was truly alone.

Hermione's eyes wandered back to Dumbledore. She had a sudden urge to tell him everything that had happened in the future and with Voldemort. She would have to eventually, for if she wanted to destroy any horcux she would need the sword of Gryffindor.

It was at that thought that she came to a full halt.

"No," she breathed in horror. The sword…it wouldn't work! It needed basilisk venom embedded inside of it, and that only occurred because Harry had killed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets in her second year. Unless she decided to go to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on her own and hiss at a faucet until the chamber opened, and somehow drive the sword of Gryffindor into the basilisk's skull before getting petrified again when looking into its eyes, she had a fat chance of destroying any horcruxes.

Why the hell hadn't she thought of that?

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?"

Dumbledore's voice snapped her back to the present. She swallowed painfully and shook her head.

"Nothing, Professor. Just…just excited to start my term."

Dumbledore stared at her for a long moment, then rose from his chair and reached above one of the shelves. He retrieved a dusty, haphazardly patched hat, one Hermione knew very well. "Let us not delay, then. I'm certain the first-years are beginning to get restless."

He moved to stand beside her, and carefully placed the hat atop her head.

"Hermione Granger, fancy meeting you…again," the Sorting Hat said quietly, and Hermione's eyes widened and almost spoke, but remembered that Dumbledore was still in the room.

How do you know? she thought with a slight shiver of panic.

"I know your mind, Miss Granger…I see everything you've seen," was the hat's reply, but she sensed its amusement.

Hermione closed her eyes resignedly. So then you know what house I belong in.

"Indeed, but is it the house you need to be in this time?"

The thought struck her. If she were to think about it…most of the people she needed to confront were the prospective Death Eaters. If she were to be in Slytherin, it would be possible to keep them from joining Voldemort…and Snape was in Slytherin, so it would be quite beneficial…

But at the thought of the Gryffindors, and most importantly Peter Pettigrew, Hermione steeled herself.

Yes, she thought with unwavering certainty.

"As you wish," the hat whispered, "but before I announce it, let me leave you with this…the past is very difficult to change, Miss Granger. As one thing mends, so another shall break."

Hermione furrowed her brows, but before she could ponder its words the hat announced loudly, "GRYFFINDOR."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling, and removed the hat from her head. "Congratulations," the old wizard grinned happily. "I will escort you to the Great Hall where you will join the other students. Enjoy your term, Miss Granger."

They left the office and headed down the corridor, finally meeting the enormous brass doors that led to the Great Hall. "I believe I may cause a commotion if I were to enter with you, Miss Granger. This is where I leave you."

She nodded and watched Dumbledore walk away, and she took a steadying breath. She stepped inside.

Inside was near chaos, where McGonagall—the face of a livid sorceress—kept the students from acting up by barking out threats and commands. The absence of the Headmaster—and the Sorting Hat, for that matter—caused the Hogwarts students to become restless. Nearby, third-years were muttering darkly to the first-years lined up for Sorting.

"You have to kill it within twenty seconds before it bites you with its venomous teeth," she heard one student say to a trembling blonde-haired boy. Hermione grinned at how much it reminded her of Fred and George.

She walked slowly along the Gryffindor table, debating where she should sit.

"Oi! Granger! Over here!" a voice shouted, and her attention snapped a few feet away from her. She saw James waving his hand, motioning for her to sit by him.

She started towards him when a hand shot out to her arm. She paused, and saw a pretty red-headed girl shake her head. "Don't even bother. His head is filled with as much air as a fifty-foot balloon."

Hermione couldn't stifle a shocked laugh as she looked at the girl in wonder. Her eyes were vivid green, with flaming hair that cascaded gently down her shoulders. Hermione recognized her as the girl James had tried to help earlier with the trunks—

Lily Evans! her mind shouted in glee.

"You're probably right," Hermione grinned, and took a seat next to the girl when she moved to make room for her. Hermione held out her hand. "Hermione Granger."

"Lily Evans.” Lily looked over in the direction of James, who seemed put-out momentarily before staring at the pair with unmasked interest. Hermione's eyes traveled to the boys that sat around him.

She squirmed when Sirius caught her eye again, staring at her just as curiously as he had on the train. Hermione glanced away and turned to Lily.

“Have you been sorted, then? We heard you would be privately sorted with the headmaster.”

Merlin, did news travel fast. “You heard correctly. I’ve been sorted to Gryffindor.”

“Oh, brilliant! It’ll be fun having a new student in our grade.”

"Are you a fifth year too?" Hermion asked.

Lily nodded. "Our class is generally nice. The Slytherins are sharp, so try to get more correct answers even during History of Magic so they don’t get all the House points. Oh and, don’t listen to the gossip. They’ll talk about you but it’ll go away fairly quickly, if history tells us anything.”

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "People are talking about me?"

Lily picked up Hermione's discomfort and offered an encouraging smile. "Not really, just word of mouth…Hogwarts doesn't get many transfer students, is all." Lily smiled again before switching her attention to the Sorting ceremony that finally began.

Hermione nodded slightly, trying not to appear as worried as she felt. It seemed anonymity was out of the question…yet again.

"I just want this over already," Lily admitted, glancing at the Slytherin table almost longingly. She smiled faintly and then turned around, but glared when James tried to catch her attention by sending the tiniest of shooting stars in her direction from his wand. Lily's jaw tightened and she ignored him, turning around completely in her seat to face the ceremony.

"I'm guessing you're not very fond of James Potter," Hermione noted, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"You'd best stay away from them," Lily warned her darkly, inclining her head to where the Marauders sat.

Hermione glanced at them. They were currently all making funny faces at each other. "Why?"

"They're nothing but trouble-makers, that lot," Lily growled. "All they know is how to show off and bully people for fun. Now," a small smile spread on her face, "I can't wait to introduce you to my friends. Especially Severus. I'm sure you two will hit it off right away," Lily smiled at the thought, and glanced at the Slytherin table once more. "Unlike Potter, Severus has one of the most brilliant, talented minds at Hogwarts. He appreciates his education, not wasting it on silly pranks."

Severus Snape, Hermione realized, was sitting there, which was why Lily kept throwing glances at the Slytherin table every so often. She wondered what Snape was like in his time at Hogwarts. Probably bitter and spiteful, just as he was as a Potions teacher.

She supposed she was going to find out now.

A long sorting ceremony and a feast later, Hermione moved out of the great hall once they had been dismissed to their dormitories. She yawned, the enormous amount of food effectively causing her to want nothing but to collapse her bed.

Lily introduced her to her other friends, including Alice Wilkins and Amelia Abbot, along with a few others from different houses. Hermione found herself quickly getting along with them, for their friendliness and humor turned her so-far tumultuous journey into the past a shade brighter.

"Severus!" Lily's eyes lit up suddenly and she motioned for him to come to her. Hermione spun around to catch a tall figure walking stiffly towards them.

Fifteen-year-old Severus Snape had long hair that hid most of his face, a hooked nose, and shoulders that hunched as if to draw the least amount of attention to himself. As he faced Lily, however, his demeanor changed completely. His posture relaxed and he moved the strands of hair away from his face to grin down at her.

"Evening, Lily," he grinned and Hermione couldn't help a tiny gasp when Lily launched herself in Severus's arms with a squeal, and he held her in a tight embrace.

"That was probably the longest, most boring sorting of the century," Lily grinned up at him, loosening her hold on his neck but not detaching herself. Severus seemed quite thrilled that she clung to him so ardently and tightened his hold around her waist for a moment, laughing with her.

Hermione couldn't believe that this happy, young man was the same man who glared at everything that breathed twenty years in the future. Severus Snape the Potions Master was a sharp contrast of Severus Snape the schoolboy.

Hermione looked away, feeling suddenly awkward, not knowing if she should linger near them when clearly they wanted to catch up. Quietly, Hermione started turning away when Lily gasped.

"Oh, that’s right!" Hermione yelped when Lily's strong hand wrapped around her elbow and pulled her forward, bringing her stumbling into Severus. His eyes widened and he raised a hand to steady her, and Hermione quickly stepped back, smiling sheepishly. "This is my new friend, Hermione Granger. She's the transfer student we spoke about earlier."

Hermione couldn't help the pink tinge that formed on her cheeks when she heard that last statement. Would it be like this for the rest of the year? Hearing in on everyone talking about her? She thought she understood what Harry’s experience had been like, but really, she hadn’t the first clue what this was like.

"Severus Snape," Snape said somewhat shyly, glancing down. Hermione couldn't fight the smile from spreading on her face. Young Severus was, put simply, adorable.

She held out her hand and grinned. "It's nice to finally meet you," Hermione said, shocking Severus with her eagerness. He smiled curiously and took her hand as she shook it firmly.

"Finally…?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said conversationally. "Lily told me all about you and your brilliant mind." Lily began laughing when Severus turned a dark shade of red and he shook his head, and only stopped when Lily stepped toward him to loop an arm around his neck again. He flashed her a smile before turning nervously to Hermione.

"So, you're in Gryffindor?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore thought it'd be easier to sort me separately, so as to not draw too much attention to my arrival. But it seems everyone knows who I am anyway."

Snape nodded and began discussing fifth-year classes, but after Lily stifled a yawn his eyes snapped to her instantly. He urged them then, to their dormitories and rest, and after many protests on Lily's behalf, they began to climb up the grand staircase.

Lily and Hermione made their way to the Gryffindor common room and climbed through the portrait hole. Immediately Lily wriggled out of her Hogwarts robe and stretched, hearing a few joints crack. Hermione followed suit and stifled another yawn.

"Long day, eh, Evans?" a jolly James grinned, coming into view as the Marauders also climbed through the portrait hole. The content expression on Lily's face disappeared, leaving an irritated frown.

"Goodnight, Potter," she said tonelessly, and linked her arm with Hermione's. "Let's go, Hermione."

She smiled apologetically at James, who sighed wistfully as Remus patted his shoulder.

It was at night when everyone was fast asleep that Hermione began to think.

Her heart was racing at the finality of her readmission into Hogwarts. She began to accept her living situation with James and the rest of the Potters, as well as the circumstances upon which she arrived to this decade. Her mind wandered over to the words the Sorting hat had whispered to her in secret.

As one thing mends, so another shall break.

Hermione couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her. The message was clear: her presence here in the past had consequences. Using the Sands of Destiny to bring her to the 1970s had enabled her to have a false family history. Everything that had supposedly happened to her in this life was real. As was explained the aftereffects of a Cruciatus Curse she had never personally experienced.

The Sorting Hat essentially crushed everything she set out to do. Dumbledore should've spoken with it before giving her the blasted Time-Turner.

Hermione tossed between the sheets, restlessness coursing through her body. Giving up, Hermione pushed the covers away with her legs and sat up. She eyed the dormitory, making sure that the rest of the girls were asleep. Softly as to not wake anyone, she crept out of bed and opened the door, silently making her way out of the girls' dormitory.

She faced the door that led to the common room, and quirked a brow when she saw the faint glow of light seeping through the door's edges.

She contemplated abandoning her little privacy adventure and just trudge back up to her bed. But sleep did not overcome her, and the restless itch in her muscles made her fidget uncomfortably. Taking a breath, she turned the knob.

The common room was empty, but she saw a small fire burning in the fireplace. Hermione sighed and stretched, her body relaxing as she finally had a few minutes to herself. The corners of her mouth turned up as she remembered sneaking down here in the dead of night numerous times with Harry and Ron.

Padding softly to one of the red, squishy armchairs, Hermione paused when she saw another figure already sitting in it.

"Oh. Hello," Hermione blinked. Sirius was lounging comfortable in the armchair with a piece of chocolate hanging from his mouth. He seemed just as shocked to find her in the common room so late at night, but as she gazed at him she saw just the slightest flicker of amusement.

Sirius swallowed and seemingly got over his initial shock as a signature grin spread on his face. "Fancy seeing you here this fine morning."

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. He patted the armchair beside him invitingly and Hermione hesitated for a moment before walking up beside him, sinking into the sofa. Her gaze followed his hand as he lifted it to his mouth and stuffed it with another bite of chocolate. She saw the wrapping lying forgotten by his feet and smirked to herself.

"The ones in the train ride weren't enough?" she teased lightly.

"They never really are, no," Sirius sighed. "It’s late. I’m usually pretty wired the night before classes. What’s your excuse?"

Hermione couldn't help but freeze a little. He was staring intently at her again, just like when she met him on the train. Shrugging, she replied, "Couldn't sleep."

It didn’t look like he fully believed her but let it go, returning his attention to the chocolate in his hand. Suddenly he reached in his pocket and pulled out a blue box with golden wrappings.

"Hungry?"

Hermione glanced down at the chocolate frog box in his hand. Slowly, she reached over and accepted it.

Silence fell between them. Hermione felt awkward, not knowing what to say anymore. She snuck a glance at him through the corner of her eye and saw a pensive look on Sirius's face as he stared at the glimmering flames. He may not be the man he was in 1995, but that expression was purely his. She’d seen it countless times over the summer she stayed with the Order. It reminded her that in the end, she never really knew Sirius at all. Just as she wouldn’t know him here.

Untying the golden thread wrappings, Hermione gingerly brought the chocolate to her mouth and took a bite.

Once again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Hermione discreetly focused her attention on Sirius. Finding Sirius on the train, watching her with unfathomable, inscrutable eyes as he fought to recognize her—and part of her feared he already had—was difficult to process. She couldn't for the life of her understand why it was so hard. She had adjusted to this alternate life, permanently stuck in the 1970s, and she hadn't so much as flinched. Perhaps because she knew it would change the future, that Dumbledore's plan in the grand scheme of things had a possibility to work, and that it was her duty to ensure a change in history happened.

So why was this hard for her? It wasn't just that he'd accidentally met her when he was eleven. No, it was more. She didn't know what, but it infuriated her that she could be near him and not feel in control like always. She couldn't be herself at all. She would look at him—as she was now—and horrible, painful thoughts erupted in her mind, memories flipping through her mind like pages of a book.

The night that she met Sirius—sunken, sallow, starved, and broken, in the Shrieking Shack; locked inside Hogwarts awaiting for the Dementor's Kiss, until Harry and Hermione rescued him on Buckbeak; arriving at the Order headquarters at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place; the inescapable nights of fear when she would creep down from her room in the dead of night to the kitchen, but finding Sirius already there with his shoulders sagged in age-old tiredness and defeat, clinging to the memory of the people he'd lost; when Harry's own mind betrayed him as he forced his way into the Department of Mysteries as he realized Sirius had never been in danger at all; Sirius arriving with the rest of the Order members, delighting in dueling any Death Eater that raised a wand against him and anyone else; waking up next to Neville Longbottom and hearing the anguished cries of Harry as she realized, in horror, the Sirius had been pushed beyond the veil in the archway, never to return; the utter hopelessness as she sat next to the repairing-then-destroying cabinet where all of the Time-Turners had been irrevocably smashed, placing finality in Sirius Black's permanent demise…

The memories flitted mercilessly through her mind and her hands began to tremble, her eyes widened in shock and fixated unwaveringly at the young boy of fifteen before her, the boy whose future was in her hands, her hands to change his fate so that he'd never have to endure twelve years in Azkaban, imprisoned for a crime he'd never commit, would rather die than betray his friends…

"Hermione?" Sirius's concerned voice broke her out of her reverie, but she still gazed him with wide eyes. Sirius could tell the instant a change had happened inside her; when she'd gone suddenly still and her eyes grew distant, gazing at him as if she were looking through him. Despite his feelings of uncertainty where she was concerned, he couldn't help the worry that crossed his face as he gazed at the unmistakable fear written all over her.

"Hermione?" he repeated. Slowly, he put the chocolate frog down on the floor as it hopped away easily. “Are—are you having another attack?”

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Hermione reached out and touched his shoulder.

She didn't want him to die. She wouldn't let him die.

She wouldn't let anyone die. That was why she was here.

Merlin, how was she supposed to act normal around him? Around Remus? Around Peter? How was she going to pull this off?

"I realize you don't like me very much right now," she found herself saying almost hoarsely, and his eyes widened.

"I never—"

"But James has been so incredibly kind to me these past few days since my arrival here. And you, Remus, and Peter have been nothing but nice to me. I…I won't forget that. Not after everything I've lost." She swallowed hard, fighting to push away the memory of the empty veil where the older Sirius had fallen through. "I…hope someday you may find a friend in me."

Withdrawing quickly and before he could protest, she smiled and stood from him, striding back to the door that lead to the girls' dormitory. She turned her head slightly and smiled brightly. "Thank you for the chocolate."

“Hermione,” Sirius said quietly. “I won’t have you thinking I dislike you. I really don’t.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“What kind of monster would that make me? I’m not like that. I just…” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I’m just me. I’m a piece of shit, but it’s just me. And I felt that perhaps—perhaps I knew you from somewhere. Obviously that doesn’t matter,” he said quickly when it looked like Hermione was going to bolt again. “So…well, that was it.” He smiled at her, and Hermione of all the smiles she had forced in the last twenty-four hours, this was the first that felt truly hers.

“Good night, Sirius.”

She disappeared behind the door and shut it quietly.

xxx

The first class of the day was Potions, to which Hermione was—surprisingly—glad she sat next to Snape. It was the only instance that she saw him at complete ease, staring at the simmering cauldron as if brewing were child's play.

That, and the fact that the class was predominantly Slytherin and they all came across as fiercely competitive made her feel reassured to be sitting by someone she'd already met.

"I think you need the frog legs now," Hermione noted as she poured fervently over her Potions book. She could almost hear the smirk in Snape's response.

"You think?" Snape said loftily. His smirk faltered when Hermione stared at him, falling back into the nervous boy she met last night.

"I'm certain," she said, but she allowed a hint of amusement to flicker over her expression so as to not torment him too much. He caught it quickly and resumed his smirk, grabbing the jar of frog legs and unscrewing the metal lid.

"Have you spoken to Lily lately?"

Hermione glanced at him, pushing back a knowing look. "Well we do share the same dormitory, and we did eat breakfast together in the Great Hall twenty minutes ago, so…yes, I'd say I have spoken to Lily lately." She snuck a glance at him, nearly breaking her controlled expression with his look of resignation.

"I guess," Snape mumbled, staring into cauldron as he dropped in the amphibian legs into the liquid simmering inside. Hermione's smile shrank as she saw the sullen expression on his face, and she felt a twinge of remorse course through her.

Hermione sighed. "You need to stop worrying so much," she said, taking the stirrer from his fingers and resuming where he left off. Severus gazed at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged, not really knowing where she was going with this. "Well, you two are best friends, right?" He hesitated, but nodded after a moment. Hermione nodded in affirmation, as if she'd been expecting that answer. "And you wouldn't do anything to hurt her? Say anything to hurt her?" She dropped the hint lightly as she remembered Snape's grave mistake of calling her a Mudblood in this very year.

"Of course not," Severus snapped, starting to look irritated.

"So then, stop worrying so much."

He kept silent, pondering over her words. After a few moments, he muttered, "Pass me the roots."

She picked up the roots and handed them carefully, eyeing Severus cautiously. Hopefully he hadn't taken offense to her words, and hopefully, hopefully…

They stared at each other for a while, challenging the other to waver. After a few moments, she saw the spark in his eye and she couldn't prevent the grin that started to take form on her face, and she noticed with glee that her smile was the catalyst to his own small, badly suppressed grin, and within moments they laughed easily and resumed working on their potion.

"You know, Granger," Severus chuckled as his knife carefully cut the roots. "I could get used to this."

She felt a jolt go through her, a glimmer of an emotion she was too afraid to acknowledge was real coursing through her blood and tingling her skin. She let out a breath and reached over to touch his arm very lightly.

"My name's Hermione."

He glanced up sharply, shock registered on his face, and a small, tentative smile lit his eyes.

xxx

After an hour in Potions and another in History of Magic, Hermione now sat in the Transfiguration classroom with excitement. It was her first day with Professor McGonagall since she'd escorted Hermione to Dumbledore's, and Hermione felt the familiar crackle in her brain, the need to achieve above and beyond and gain the respect from her professors. And with McGonagall—a teacher with whom she shared a mutual admiration—that need was almost a necessity.

Hermione sat a row behind the front, her back straight and her wand delicately placed on her desk. A quill and parchment were aligned in the middle, the ink bottle carefully beside it. Anticipation bubbled excitedly in her, momentarily causing her to forget her surroundings.

"I see someone’s chosen my seat as theirs." Hermione glanced up to find James staring down at her with an arched brow.

"Sorry," Hermione winced. When she started to stand, James waved his hand quickly. "Don’t sweat it, Granger. I’m sure I can find something suitable on a day where no seats have been assigned yet, as it’s the first day of classes…”

"Stop teasing her, James, she doesn't know when you're being serious yet," the serene voice of Remus said, and he took a seat to her left with a genuine smile.

"Don't be silly, Remus, only I can be Sirius." Sirius plopped down on the seat directly behind her.

“Oof,” Remus grimaced.

“Mate, that one was proper rubbish,” said James, looking thoroughly disappointed.

“Sit and spin, the both of you,” Sirius rolled his eyes. He glanced at Hermione and smiled. "Morning again.”

“Morning.”

“Have I missed something?” came Peter’s voice as he settled down in a free seat.

“Just Sirius shaming all of Britain with his poor puns,” Remus informed him helpfully.

“Yikes,” said Peter gravely, avoiding a kick from Sirius.

He caught Hermione’s eye and she smiled eagerly. “Hello, Peter! Had a good sleep?”

Whatever hesitance Peter may have had around her evaporated the instant she shared genuine kindness with him, in a classroom with all the other students. He smiled happily, replying, “Excellent, thank you for asking.”

Good. She needed him to be happy, to feel a part of something more than just a sidekick of Sirius and James. With any luck, by the end of the semester she will have helped him grow a sturdy backbone against any taunts that may come his way, anything that would force him to betray his friends in the next few years. She reminded herself that this Peter was still just a fifteen-year-old boy, shy, and not at all capable of killing anyone. There was good in him, and that meant he had a chance.

"Well, if what I see is correct, it seems all four of you have surrounded me," Hermione said dryly, and it was true. Peter up front, Sirius in the back, and James and Remus at both her sides: it was almost overwhelming to be in the presence of all four Marauders so…oppressively.

But perhaps it was not unwelcome.

"Your observational skills astound me," James said wryly.

"Must be the Gryffindor in you talking," Remus noted.

"Roaring, actually," Sirius corrected, and they erupted in easy laughter. She noticed Peter's face as he watched the light banter pass between the other three, and he giggled whenever a particularly good tease was thrown into the conversation. She noticed, with a fraction of sadness, that he hardly participated with his own witty comments. Perhaps he was too afraid to be noticed, to be made fun of, even if it was by his best friends…always so intimidated…

"Say Peter, how do you think Transfiguration will be this year?" asked Hermione suddenly.

He seemed to freeze, caught unawares that Hermione would actually, willingly, strike up a conversation with him. His small, boyish face had a look of shock for a moment, before he stammered out, "W-well it is our fifth year, and the OWLs are approaching next year…I assume it will be far more difficult than any year before but, I do think it won't be too rough if we r…rigorously study this year’s material."

"Excellent," Hermione beamed. "That was exactly what I was thinking. I've always believed trying very, very hard will always be rewarding. I've never actually had trouble with Transfiguration—don't get me wrong, the incantations are very tricky, and I did have my fair share of trouble last year with the basics of vanishment, but hopefully all will go well."

Peter seemed struck, as if unused to anyone other than the Marauders having remotely any interest in an actual conversation with him. But, slowly, the confusion wore off, and his demeanor relaxed, and he started agreeing with her and added his own little input with the prior years of Transfiguration he had with McGonagall, and how though it seemed difficult he found it rather easy.

"Though she'll chew you alive if you don't live up to her expectations," Peter warned darkly. "In my third year she nearly hexed me for getting an 'E' on one of her surprise examinations. Never stopped slacking for this class since then."

"An 'E'?" Hermione said disbelievingly. "But Peter, that's—that's—"

A grade I would have gotten and received the same treatment, Hermione thought to herself. McGonagall was disappointed in him for receiving and 'E'? And only in his third year, no less? Never, up until now, did she realize the hidden talent inside the boy before her…

"Peter…" she said slowly. “What was your grade for this class last year?"

He ears went pink. She watched him frantically glance at Sirius and Remus and James, relieved that they were still barking amongst themselves. Timidly he whispered, "An 'O'."

She nodded and began to smile. "That's brilliant, Peter. I think I've finally met my match."

He laughed a little nervously, but she could tell he was beginning to see her in a new light. It was at that precise moment that the door swung open and a set of emerald robes swished down the aisles and marched up to the front desk.

"Good morning, class," Professor McGonagall said in her stern voice, and the class greeted her respectfully. "We'll start with our lesson right away. Who can tell me what an Animagus is?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air, but it also included Remus's. She glanced at him, knowing full well why he would know what an Animagus was, and how it certainly was not like a werewolf.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can turn into a specific animal at will. It is more of a skill than a hereditary trait, as is with being a Metamorphmagus."

"Excellent. And what spell is necessary to turn oneself into the animal form?"

Hermione's hand shot up again. "No spell is required for turning into the desired animal, as wand magic is not necessary for the transformation to occur."

"Excellent, five points for Gryffindor," said McGonagall. "I know all of you have learned of Animagi and such in your third year, but I bring it up because today we will be transfiguring random objects into fully functional animals. That requires a spell. In your second year I did teach how to turn animals into objects—a barely difficult feat—but instilling life into an object is vastly different. Changing the molecular structure of something to turn into a living, breathing creature is no game. I advise you to proceed with today's lesson with utmost caution."

By the end of her monologue the class was somberly silent, as was custom whenever McGonagall wanted to intimidate her students into working seriously and diligently. Satisfied with the silence, she waved her wand and a projector lighted as she dimmed the candles around the room.

They began taking notes on the incantation and wand movements required. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit off-guard, mostly because she was never taught how to do the spell in her fifth year. It was classified as 'unnecessary' and though the spell was on the exam, she never had to lift her wand to a cup and transfigure it into a being.

"Now," McGonagall resumed, "as you can see, transfiguring something into an animal requires giving your own energy—no, not your magic, Abbot, energy, to the object. Anyone willing to explain why?"

Hermione almost answered, but she noticed Peter's arm twitch, but he remained motionless. Hermione glanced around the classroom, and realizing nobody made the attempt to answer.

Now was her chance to spark the change inside Pettigrew. Now.

Hermione leaned over her chair and whispered, “Tell her.”

Swallowing thickly, Peter dropped his gaze to his hands resting on the desk. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t do it, but in the moment she watched as his hand rose unsteadily.

"Yes, Peter?"

Peter swallowed hard before quietly murmuring, "Energy is transferred as the catalyst of instilling life into the object; transferring magic would do it no good as it is already infused with it while the incantation is made, and does not have the life-giving properties or abilities as our own human energy does."

Hermione could tell from her classmates’ surprise that it was rare for Peter to participate like this; even more, for anyone to have the correct answer in this subject. McGonagall's own surprise did not last. She gave a slight nod. "Precisely. Ten points for Gryffindor."

The class broke out in small chatter. Peter turned to her, an incredulous look on his face, and Hermione grinned. "That was great, Peter."

James reached over and clapped Peter on the back. "Oi, mate, where did that come from? If you were this bloody brilliant, why haven't you helped me with my Transfiguration essays, eh?"

"You never asked," Peter shrugged, and Sirius coughed loudly to hide his snort.

After a few minutes the class resumed their work, and finally got to choose which object they wished to transfigure. Hermione browsed the box filled with random things when something caught her eye.

It was a brass compass, a bit large to fit in her hand. There were needle markings and red arrows and it was heavy to hold for something relatively small compared to the broomsticks and milk jugs inside the box. Hermione picked it up immediately and retreated to her desk.

"Bit bold, don't you think?" Remus noted, and she glanced at him. He gave a small smile. "The smaller the object, the harder it is to transfigure it. Case and point," he gestured at the large, rusted trophy propped before him.

"I'm sure I'll manage," Hermione replied with a half-smile. In earnest she wanted to challenge herself, wanting to test her limits. It was only then that she knew she could handle the next three years.

Three years. She never thought of it that way…

Once the class settled back into their seats McGonagall spoke again. "Since you know the incantation, and you have your objects, it's all about concentration. Have an animal in mind before you begin. Transport your own energy into the object, and the moment you feel a tug, you know the energy has been transferred and you move your wand away immediately. Only a drop of energy, no more. Too much will explode the object. Also," Hermione could feel the impatient shuffling behind her, showing that Sirius was getting antsy and he really wanted to start casting the spell. "Success with this spell will not work."

Everyone's jaw simultaneously dropped.

"Not work?" Remus spluttered. "Then what's the point of all this?"

"The point is, Mr. Lupin, that it will not work today. This is advanced magic. You cannot hope to transfigure anything today, but I want you to practice the motions. You can try, try all you need. But do not expect results today."

Remus seemed a bit put out, but gripped his wand firmly anyway with defiant determination clear in his eyes. Hermione admired it, and knew that he, just like her, wanted nothing more than to succeed.

McGonagall continued, "This procedure could also be considered a test of sorts. A test of your Transfiguration skills. Usually the ones who grasp the concept the fastest are those more likely to be competent Transfiguration students," McGonagall began to smile. "Prior years have shown that students who can transfigure them first, are usually capable of more advanced transfigurations. More or less, the competence to become Animagi."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she peered discreetly at James and Peter, wondering if they were Animagi yet.

Half an hour later, Hermione was positive that none of the Marauders were Animagi yet. She watched from the corner of her eye as James furrowed his brow and muttered, "Vivera!" repeatedly, but to no avail. Peter and Sirius were having the same trouble. Clearly they hadn't mastered their animal counterparts yet. Hermione briefly wondered when they would take interest in it.

Hermione fastened her eyes on the brass compass before her. She'd been at it for just as long, and she could feel herself panting a bit from the effort of drawing out energy from her body into the compass. Remus was right. Smaller objects were much more difficult.

"No luck, Hermione?" Remus asked, his forehead glistening with perspiration. Hermione was in the same state as she had to tie her unruly hair away from her.

"Unfortunately, this compass is…resisting me," Hermione muttered. Surely this wasn't supposed to be that hard?

She heard him chuckle. "I am afraid my trophy doesn't much like me either."

Hermione scowled. "Oh, don't be so modest. I saw your trophy twitch for a moment."

He was about to respond when Sirius suddenly exclaimed, "I did it! Look! I actually—oh."

Hermione whirled around at the excitement of his voice, and froze when she saw a puppy instead of a bread basket on his table. The only thing was, it failed to move.

"Well, now that you have the transformation part, how about bestowing it some energy, no, Mr. Black?" McGonagall noted lightly, amusement lingering in her eyes. "A little bit less wand waving and a little more concentration should do the trick." She waved her wand and reverted it back into a bread basket and walked away.

Sirius looked positively livid as he stared at the bread basket once more. Hermione fought hard to keep from cracking a smile, but Sirius caught the mirth in her eyes anyway.

"Not one word, Granger," Sirius warned.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." she said, forcing a straight face.

James did not take the same liberty with him.

"'Guys, look! I did it! I did it! Oh no.'” James exaggerated a pout Hermione could contain it no more. She broke down into soft laughter and soon enough Peter and Remus joined her.

"At least I managed something," he said defensively, but a reluctant smile started to crack on the corners of his mouth.

"Sirius, it's alright," Hermione grinned and reached out to ruffle his hair playfully. His expression wavered as he locked his eyes with hers. Immediately she realized what she'd done and retracted her arm, the smile fading.

Why did she touch him like that?

Good lord why had she done that? And why hadn’t the classroom floor swallowed her whole already?

Sirius's mouth curled upwards, holding her gaze as he murmured, "Why don't you show me better results and then we'll call it even?"

"Sounds good to me," she replied, her voice faint. They stared transfixed at each other for a moment. There was warmth in those irises, warmth like she'd never seen before, not even when she knew him at Grimmauld Place. Hermione felt her face growing hot under the intensity of his gaze and she turned to refocus on the compass before her.

"What am I doing?" Hermione whispered to herself in disbelief. She didn't come back to 1975 to make eyes with Harry's godfather! What kind of twisted game was she playing at?

"Vivera," Hermione pointed her wand at the compass. Nothing. "Vivera," she said earnestly.

She nearly gasped when she saw the compass flicker, a hint of a feather on the dial before disappearing quickly.

Had she…had she almost transfigured it?

Hermione hadn't felt the tug of energy that McGonagall mentioned would happen, which was probably why the compass hadn't transfigured. But the slight feather she'd seen on the dial had been unmistakable. She was close.

Hermione looked around to see if anyone had noticed what happened, but everyone was too immersed into their own spells notice her compass’s slight shiver. Caught up in her excitement, she didn't notice Remus's eyes trained on hers.

"Time is up," Professor McGonagall announced. "Please place your objects back into the box. We shall resume tomorrow."

Hermione frowned in disappointment and placed the brass compass back in the box.

Tomorrow was much too far away.

xxx

Hermione checked her watch, shifted impatiently in her seat. Severus had said he'd meet with her and Lily in the library during lunch so that they could finish go over their Herbology work, but so far Severus was nowhere in sight.

"It's not like Sev to be this late," Lily complained, leaning her forehead in the crook of her arms that were folded on a table.

"He'll be here," Hermione assured, glancing at her watch again.

"Maybe you should go check," mumbled Lily, head still buried in her arms.

"He's your best friend, why don't you look for him?" Hermione retorted.

Lily lifted her head and smiled sweetly. "Because I'm not nearly as nice as you are."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Hermione chided, but stood up nonetheless. Sighing deeply, she exited the library and strolled through the corridors. It felt strange, being this close to Harry's mother, and to Snape for that matter. But she couldn't seem to help herself. Severus Snape really was nothing like he was when she had him as a professor. He was shy, and kind, and even had a sense of humor. He smiled and laughed and looked all of fifteen years young, so carefree, so…

So innocent.

It would become a different story when he was by himself, and she could see it already. Left alone—or more specifically, without Lily—Severus would become extremely antisocial, isolating himself and burying his nose in a book. He spoke to no one, made eye contact with nobody, and gave the impenetrable aura of hatred that left him unapproachable, even to the few who had any inclination to speak to him. He would be terse and abrupt and full of resentment, everything he wasn’t right now.

She wasn't so sure why Severus had taken to Hermione, and why she had offered him her hand in friendship so quickly. It just seemed so…easy, being his friend. And considering what Dumbledore spoke to her about his horrid demise—death by a snake, and revealing his undying love for Lily Evans—there was more to Severus than he let on. And if, if, she had any hope of changing history, she wished to make sure Severus Snape never joined with the Death Eaters while at Hogwarts.

Just as she wished for Peter, she wished for him.

Hermione sighed. She could only hope.

As Hermione strolled down the halls, noticing that her stomach was still growling and that lunch time was slowly but steadily ticking away, she saw movement by the glass window to her right. Beyond the window was a courtyard where several students were having lunch, and she almost ignored it when she saw a familiar face.

Warmth crept up her cheeks when she saw Sirius among the crowd of students. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes dancing as he grinned. It really was horrible, the way Sirius made her feel. There was something wrong with her, surely. For wasn’t this wrong? She’d known him as a grown man, for Merlin’s sake. Above that, she had no right to feel anything for him except hope and friendship—she didn’t know how long she’d even survive here, in her pursuit for destroying Voldemort. It very well might kill her.

Still, she couldn't help but gaze at Sirius, with memories of her past life and with aspirations to change his fate. And, amongst those thoughts, she started having ones that she knew Harry, or Ron, or anyone she once knew, would never let her live down. She should steer clear of him, knowing that she had fractured some part of his memories by visiting him accidentally in Diagon Alley when he was eleven. And she knew, deep in the recesses of his mind, that some part of him recognized her, almost immediately on the train to Hogwarts. She had been frightened at the fire that gleamed in his eyes, the words she knew he hadn't forgotten that had been exchanged by the pair. He knew too much, far too much…if she wasn't careful, Sirius Black could easily foil any plan she had for the 70s.

Hermione's smile faded as she saw something, something wholly different about the way Sirius was smiling. The smile that curled corners of his lips was not genial, but deeply entertained with a hint of...

Hermione blanched and rushed to the door to the courtyard, striding in long steps to where Sirius stood. She noticed James was right beside him, laughing gaily. Hermione could feel her blood go cold.

"Let's give him a beard, shall we?" James asked innocently.

"Nah, too easy. How does a pair of lady’s knickers sound?" Sirius suggested.

"How about this?" James said deviously, and pointed his wand at a figure lying on the floor.

Hermione gazed incredulously at the stiff form of Severus on the grassy grounds of the courtyard. From the looks of it, one of the Marauders had cast the Petrificus Totalus spell on him, leaving him completely paralyzed, and the pair was deciding how to transfigure him hideously.

She watched in horror as James aimed his wand deftly at Severus's arm and moved it slowly, running the length of his forearm. A long, thin ribbon slithered around his arm racing to his head, and constricted around it.

"James, what are you—"

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed. She rushed over and James broke away from Severus, glancing up sharply. His stricken face relaxed slightly when he saw her.

"Hermione—"

"Don't." She whipped out her wand and both James and Sirius took an automatic step back. Hermione did not spare them a glance but focused on the still form on the ground.

"Finite Incantatum," she said quickly, and right away Severus started to move, rolling over in pain.

"We were just having a laugh, Hermione," James insisted as Hermione crouched on the ground by Severus, carefully grasping his arm.

"I said, don’t.” Hermione looked up at him with contempt. “You don’t get to say my name.”

James flinched, and Hermione gingerly helped Severus to his feet.

"I don't need your help," Severus muttered gruffly, trying to shove her off but Hermione held him steadfastly.

“Stop th—stop!” Hermione held tightly when Snape tried lunging at James, dragging him back. “Severus, stop.”

“I’ll hang that twat,” Severus seethed.

“That’ll be the day,” James snorted. “When will you give it a rest? I’m better than you.”

She watched as Snape started frantically searching for his discarded wand in the grass. Hermione caught sight of it before him and snatched it up quickly. Bundling it inside her robes, she looked at Severus seriously. “You, stop.” She turned to James.

"You," Hermione said quietly, staring at James with as much disgust as she could muster. Never had she felt like this, not even with Draco Malfoy, the only person who had ever stirred feelings like this. "You what, cast a Petrificus at someone and start tormenting them? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"James Potter," James replied easily. “And you’ve conveniently missed the part where he tried to hex us.” Sirius nudged James hard, making Hermione's eyes snap to his.

“So that makes it okay?” She shook her head, glaring at the both of them. "I don’t care. You think it's funny, hurting people you don't like."

"We didn't hurt anyone; it was just a bit of fun," Sirius crossed his arms.

"A bit of fun," Hermione repeated slowly, and suddenly memories rushed into her mind, memories she knew didn't belong to her yet. "Now, I think I've heard that one before. About three weeks ago, actually. This woman—crazy girl—thought: you know, why not start hurting a few muggle families? Why not kill a young girl's family and use the Cruciatus curse on her for a while? A few hours, maybe? She thought—and this is a direct quote, you see—that it'd be a bit of fun."

James's mouth was agape, dumbstruck, while Sirius looked like he'd just been slapped. Silence had surrounded them now, all of the students staring at the scene curiously.

James was the first to speak. "Mum said it was for an hour," he said weakly. Hermione felt the floodgate of memories fill her mind again, flashing a cackling face and unimaginable agony.

Her mouth set grimly across her face. "She was wrong."

James made no motion to speak anymore, blinking heavily. She could feel Sirius staring at her but ignored it. She felt nothing but disgust towards the two of them.

And I wanted to help him? Hermione thought bitterly. She wanted nothing to do with him or James for that matter.

"Let me make something very, very clear," Hermione said calmly. She raised her wand to them threateningly, and instinctively they flinched away. "You stay. Away. From. Us. And if you see Severus, and you decide it would be fun to raise a wand against him again? I'll have a bit of fun of my own."

Her eyes moved to Sirius. A grimace spread on her face that she could not contain and she shook her head, locking her eyes with his. "You disgust me."

She spun around and grasped Severus lightly by the arm, guiding him out of the courtyard. The silence continued, and once they reached the corridor Severus extracted her hand from his arm.

"I am alright," he said quietly.

"You should go to the hospital wing, see if you’re hurt.”

"No," he said vehemently, clutching the arm to his chest protectively. She stepped away.

"Alright. No hospital wing. Let me at least see your arm. I saw the ribbon go around your neck, too, Severus. Three more seconds and you’d purple."

"I don't need your help."

Hermione felt anger envelop her once more. "Look Severus," she hissed quietly. "I really could care less how bruised your ego is that some—some mudblood girl just stood up for you. You should be glad you have friends that actually care about your well-being, because they don't come by often. So stop trying to push me away and let me see your bloody arm."

Severus looked at her with wide eyes. Quietly he murmured, "Why did you call yourself that?"

Hermione blinked. "What?" He glared at her. "What, mudblood?”

“What else?”

“I…I don’t know why I said it.” She shrugged a little. “I suppose old traumas from bullying made it slip out.”

He stared at her, long enough for Hermione to start feeling uncomfortable. “You were bullied?”

Hermione blinked, unsure of how to interpret the unreadable look in his eyes, and began wringing her hands. “I mean, not like—nothing like this. I mean, a boy once hexed my front teeth to grow past my knees, but compared to…” She winced and shook her head. “Yes. I was bullied for my heritage.”

Severus didn’t reply, staring at his arm for a long moment. Then, finally, "Don't call yourself that again."

Hermione looked at him with surprise, and nodded silently. Slowly Severus moved his injured arm away from his chest, and held it towards her.

xxx

When Lily found out what had happened to Severus, the term ‘violent outburst’ was a severe understatement. The moment they were in the common room, she hunted down James and thrashed him multiple times before turning to Sirius and hexing him for good measure. Hermione did not know very much about Lily from before, but she knew now not to make the mistake of getting on her bad side.

The next day Hermione found herself in the Transfiguration classroom again. She noticed that Sirius and James chose to sit in the back of the room instead, taking her words to heart. Good. She didn't want anything to do with them. It gave her some joy, however, that her argument with the James and Sirius wouldn’t affect her growing friendship with Peter and Remus.

The brass compass was in front of her again, and she whispered the spell over and over, forcing her energy to latch onto the circular device. Anger welled in her again.

"Vivera," she whispered desperately, but nothing happened. She knew it wouldn't; only truly advanced students could even dream to achieve this feat on only the second day of practice. She looked behind slightly and saw Sirius with the same concentrated look written on his face, muttering the spell with determination.

Angrily she turned back to the compass. Why wouldn't it work for her? Why was this so difficult?

How could she be expected to achieve anything in this decade if she couldn't even master a fifth-year spell!

"Vivera!" she cried, and was shocked when she felt a tug at her heart. Her wand trembling, she noticed the compass was shaking. Remembering McGonagall's words she moved her wand away quickly, ensuring not too much energy was drained from her.

The compass was shivering, distorting in size as her energy flowed freely through the circular contraption.

Suddenly the compass exploded, sending shards flying in every direction. Hermione yelped and jumped from the desk so that she wouldn't be struck with the worst of the shards.

I guess I still infused too much energy into it, Hermione thought wryly.

McGonagall was by her side in an instant as she examined the remains of her compass. "As expected during the first energy transference," McGonagall sniffed, but looked at her with something close to admiration. "I must say, Miss Granger, I definitely did not expect progress this fast. This is truly quite remarkable."

"But I didn't transfigure it," Hermione protested, but McGonagall waved her words away.

"That is its own task, Miss Granger. That you were able to transfer your own energy after just two days tells me I can expect great things from you."

Almost immediately sounds of bursting objects erupted in sequence around the room. Startled, Hermione glanced around to where it came from. She saw the objects that Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James possessed had all exploded.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows in disbelief, and Hermione gaped at the Marauders openly. After a moment she gave a shaky sigh. "It appears Gryffindor is far more talented than I expected this year. Twenty points to Gryffindor."

Hermione glanced at Remus who shrugged with a smile, and Peter seemed absolutely delighted at his destroyed statue head. James was shocked, and Sirius held a look of satisfaction on his face. He felt Hermione's stare and glanced up, surprise written on his face. Hermione glared at him and he averted his gaze, an uncharacteristic tinge lighting his ears.

Hermione turned away and waved her wand, repairing the broken brass compass.

The Marauders wouldn't be the only unregistered Animagi this time around.

Chapter 4: The Full Moon

Chapter Four

The Full Moon

"Will you stop avoiding me?"

The potions room was louder than usual that morning, as Slughorn had decided in his finite wisdom to assign a particularly troublesome brew that required working in pairs. They had not missed his fleeting smile when he loudly announced who each student would be working with, nor did it go unnoticed that each Slytherin was paired with a Gryffindor.

Severus did not look at her directly, but merely inclined his head to affirm that he'd heard her as he tipped the contents inside a small vial into their boiling cauldron.

"I don't know what you're talking about.”

"Liar." Hermione added a sliver of rat tail. "You're still being...odd." She lowered her voice. “I thought after…I thought we were alright.”

Severus didn’t reply.

Holding an annoyed sigh, Hermione cut the rest of the tail with viciously precise strokes, earning a startled look from Severus.

“Pray tell why you are abusing our very important potion ingredients?”

At least he's looking at me, now, Hermione thought wryly. "Pray tell me why the only words you've spoken to me today were 'pass me the powdered horn'?”

Severus rolled his eyes and turned back to his work.

“If this is about what happened in the courtyard, honestly—"

"Maybe," Severus said slowly as he stirred the cauldron, "you need to stop making everything about yourself, Granger."

Hermione felt something twitch inside her. The amount of times Snape had called before…

"Then enlighten me, sir," Hermione replied tartly.

His stirring hand stilled over the cauldron and he let it go, turning his head to look at her. His eyes were hard and serious.

"No," he replied shortly. "I don't think I will. Because if you can't see it, if you are as much of a friend you say you are to me, then you wouldn't need to ask. Now, put in the crushed root."

Hermione sat and stared at him for a while. “That’s ridiculous. And definitely not how friendships work.” No reply. “Come on, Severus.”

Hermione the tension in his shoulders as Severus focused on stirring. Now that she thought of it, he'd been very tense the past few days, even around Lily.

Her eyes widened. "This is about Lily?"

Severus jumped slightly and glared at her, hissing, "Quiet!"

She couldn't stop from smiling. "What happened? Did you do something wrong? No that can't be, she would have told me if you buggered up—"

"I did not bugger up," he seethed, but still had the unsettled air of distress behind his irritation.

She furrowed her brow. "Then, what is it?"

His eyes flashed and he looked away, taking a knife and chopping ingredients quickly yet precisely in true Snape fashion.

He looked truly incensed, and Hermione's smile faded, replaced with a worried frown. "I didn't mean to tease you," she said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She had returned to adding ingredients to the cauldron silently when he spoke inaudibly, "You'll…you'll find out soon enough."

Hermione wasn't sure what he meant by it, so she pressed her lips tightly and continued in silence.

xxx

"Excellent job, Abbot," Professor McGonagall said with a smile at the girl who had finally managed to transfigure a boot into an owl. A little more than a week of continued practice and nearly the entire class had finally mastered the Vivera spell.

Hermione stroked the feathers of a bald eagle that was perched up on her desk absently. She had been the first to transform her object into a permanent living, breathing animal.

The second had been Sirius.

She still remembered the triumphant grin when he’d transformed his basket into a puppy. He'd held it to his chest adoringly, and several students began crowding around him and cooing at the tiny golden retriever in his arms. Sirius caught her gaze amidst the chaos of students surrounding him, his grin slipping slowly.

Hermione had looked away.

If the signs prior hadn't been enough, today definitely confirmed it. She knew she had the potential of being an Animagus. It was going to be difficult, and she would need to find a place to practice in secret, but she felt it was something necessary. It never hurt to have a little bit of extra magical prowess at her disposal.

Remus transformed his object next, nearly ten minutes after Sirius; James and Peter managed near the end of class. Gryffindor house was awarded twenty points again, and Hermione could see the proud smile on McGonagall's lips, a welcome change to her typically unamused disposition.

With cheery smiles and excited chatter on the successful day in Transfiguration, students began filing out of the room. Hermione was in the middle of stuffing her quill and textbook into her bag when Remus came up beside her.

"I never got to congratulate you," he smiled, lightly stroking the eagle's feathers.

"Nonsense, you were just as brilliant today," Hermione replied, though slightly distractedly. The blasted book refused to go inside her bag.

"It usually helps if the zip is open all the way," Remus said dryly, and reached over to tug on the zip.

Hermione huffed. "There's that, of course. What ever would I do without you?"

"Not much with bags, I'm sure."

A small laugh bubbled out of her and Remus stared at her, his lips quirking in a small smile as they left the classroom.

Hermione glanced up at him. "Want to walk with me to Defense?"

Remus nodded easily and fell in step with her. When they passed by James and Sirius as they leant against the corridor wall Hermione glanced from them.

"You should know," Remus said slowly as they continued past them, "they are not bad people. They just have a…different sense of humor. And not a very good one, sometimes."

"I know that." She looked up at him solemnly. "There's a fine line between pranking and bullying, Remus. And what Sirius and James did was cruel."

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. What Hermione said was true...yet, if he were in that position, he wasn't sure if he would've intervened as Hermione did. The thought alone made him bow his head lower.

A sharp spark of pain in his bones made his spine snap straighter, a small hiss escaping his lips. Hermione caught the action and paused, frowning at him with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

Remus nodded as another burst of pain sidled along his frame. He knew this feeling; it came to him every month, just before the full moon when his body was preparing itself for the inevitable transformation. His senses heightened, his vision sharpened, his nose picking up every scent in the vicinity. He felt nauseated, but clenched his jaw and forced an easy smile. "It seems I'm growing older by the day," he chuckled with a casual grin, suppressing a wince as another crackle of pain shot up his spine. "Old bones."

Hermione nodded, looking unconvinced. That was strange. Usually people would have brushed it off and moved along, but he was deeply unsettled at the knowing look that seemed to hover about her. In fact, she looked at him as if she…but no. He barely knew her for less than a month. She couldn't know anything.

They walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Remus still feeling uneasy. If he didn’t know better, Hermione regarded him with something akin to understanding.

No, of worry.

She couldn't possibly understand anything.

xxx

Night had fallen quickly upon Hogwarts. It was well past midnight, and the occupants of the girls' dormitory in Gryffindor tower were sleeping deeply. Hermione waited until each fervent breath abated, each body ceased to toss and turn in search for a comfortable position. Slowly, Hermione lifted the red covers from her body and planted her feet softly on the cold floor. Reaching under her bed, she retrieved her small bag and pedaled noiselessly to the door.

The common room was empty and dark, save for the dying embers in the fireplace. Hermione deftly slipped out of the portrait hole and closed the door gently, noting with satisfaction that even the Fat Lady continued her soft snores, uninterrupted.

As she stole silently into the night, Hermione found herself pressed against walls and alcoves numerous times as the prefects made their rounds. "This would be much easier with an Invisibility Cloak," Hermione muttered dully, dodging into a crevice mere seconds before the Head Girl rounded the corner and stalked the halls. Once gone, she added, "And the map."

Both of which, Hermione thought with some chagrin, were probably sitting harmlessly in James Potter's school trunk.

Hermione continued down corridor quietly, until she came upon a particular stretch of wall. "Lumos," she muttered.

Concentration etched on her face, she stared at the wall deeply. I need someplace where no one will find me.

Slowly the wall began to reshape, shuddering slightly, and a high door stood before her. With a shaky breath, she turned the knob.

The room was large with high walls and tall windows, cathedral pillars mounting the room. The dim wandlight showed endless stacks and piles of chairs and stools, forgotten cupboards and whirring objects glittering atop chests and emerald pillows. They were things kept hidden, some without purpose and some with far too much.

Things that Tom Riddle would want to keep secret.

xxx

Far up in the Gryffindor Tower, a restless body tossed around. The boys' dormitory was silent, save for the fidgeting form behind the red and gold curtains. Suddenly the curtains were thrown aside and a towering body slinked over to the adjacent bed.

"James," Sirius whispered. James continued to sleep, a snore escaping his throat. Sirius nudged the sleeping boy hard. "James," Sirius repeated impatiently.

"Where's muh hippogriff?" James mumbled.

"About to clog you in the nose if you don't wake up for two minutes," Sirius snapped.

James blinked sleepily, "What?"

"I'm bored," Sirius said flatly.

"Go find someone else to snog, I'm not in the mood tonight."

A swift punch to the arm made James groan. "Alright, alright, keep you knickers on…" he reached below his bed and fished out a thick parchment. Tossing it to Sirius, James collapsed back against the sheets and grumbled, "Now leave me alone."

Sirius muttered darkly under his breath, "Don't know why you keep it all the time, can barely remember where your glasses are most days…"

Sirius jumped onto his bed and closed the curtains once more. Lazily leaning against the headboard, he whipped out his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He found subtle amusement watching Dumbledore pacing his study, and even more seeing McGonagall enter the kitchens in secret. Midnight treacle tart, Minerva? Sirius chuckled, shaking his head.

Perhaps he should try to roam the entire castle in ten minutes without getting caught? It seemed challenging enough, but it wouldn't be fun without competing with someone. Perhaps he could wake up Remus?

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a name dash quickly into an alcove on the map, right when a prefect was about to pass by. Seemed like he wasn't the only student unable to sleep tonight.

Smiling, he muttered another lumos to read the name better. His eyes widened.

"Lumos maxima," he whispered. The light from the tip of his wand grew brighter.

1. Granger floated on the map.

What was Hermione doing out in the dead of night?

Intrigued, he watched her footsteps wait until the prefect was out of sight. She moved quickly from the alcove and darted down the corridor, twisting and turning, until she slowed down, standing directly in front of a wall.

She stood there for quite a long time. Sirius began getting nervous watching her motionless name. Did something happen to her? What was she doing? There were no other names wandering that hall so nobody could have harmed her. She was just there, standing still.

Her name moved slowly towards the wall and, to his utmost incredulity, she disappeared.

Sirius stared at the map in disbelief. What the hell? His wand shook slightly in his fierce grip. Hermione's name was no longer in sight. It was as if she’d never been there at all.

Pulling on a pair of trousers, he whispered a quick knox and flung silently out of bed, down into the common room, and out the portrait hole without making a sound. Taking a breath, he stared at the map and began to walk.

After a few close calls from wandering prefects, Sirius stood in puzzlement before the wall that Hermione had disappeared through. It was an insignificant stretch of brick. The palm of his hand pressed against the cold surface of the wall, and it was solid. He thought for a moment it was enchanted like platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross, but it was not.

He paced around it, fingers trailing along the wall and then staring at the map. She was still not there, but she was nowhere else in the castle as well. Somehow Hermione was gone, and the answer to how was behind this wall.

He stopped mid-stride when he noticed a shift in the wall, and his trailing fingers were suddenly met with wood.

His eyebrows furrowed. It was a wooden door, right out of nowhere.

Well this was interesting.

"Mischief managed," he murmured and stuffed the map in his pocket. Holding his wand out in front of him, he grabbed the knob and swung it open.

"Lumos."

The door creaked slightly as it opened. Sirius stared blankly.

A broom cupboard.

He stepped inside in disbelief, but it was real. Brooms lined up inside, dust making his nostrils flare as his eyes squinted against the harsh wandlight.

"What the hell," he whispered. It was small, and there was no way Hermione had passed through here. He tested the walls with his hands, but they were solid and unmoving.

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he stepped out of the broom cupboard and closed the door behind him. Why did a broom closet suddenly appear in the wall when it hadn't been there before? He was growing suspicious feelings for the wall, though they were starting to become more and more positive by the second.

What if…?

Sirius's racing thoughts halted when the wall began to shift again. He backed away and pressed against the opposite wall. A high black, metal door transformed against the surface of the brick wall. He stood transfixed when the door slowly slid open and a dark figure emerged.

A small sound met his ears and light burst at the tip of a wand, dimly illuminating the corridor. His eyes wandered over brown, messy curls, and fixated on the face that distinctly belonged to Hermione.

She appeared aggravated as she checked her surroundings, making sure that no one was around. Sirius sank deeper against the wall as her eyes scanned over to where he was.

Her eyes squinted and she stood stark still, eyes fixated on where Sirius was hidden. He could feel her alertness emanating from her like sirens. She knew someone was there.

The sound of a moaning ghost snapped Hermione from her reverie, and she quickly doused the light and sprinted off into the dark soundlessly. He commended her swiftness as well as her instincts. Not many witches or wizards could know in an instant that they were being watched in secret, let alone by someone who made it his personal goal to be adept in deception and stealth.

He noted that the iron door was still there, though it was starting to shrink. He strode towards it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the room Hermione so desperately needed to go to.

It was fading fast and Sirius bounded towards it hastily. Grabbing the knob he flung open the door, but the cool brass knob had already turned wooden once he reached it.

Sirius growled in frustration when he was met by another broom cupboard.

"Dammit!" Sirius ground out and slammed the irritating door once more, striding angrily to the marble staircase and up to Gryffindor tower.

He knew this wasn't over. He would find out sweet, innocent Hermione's secret.

And he’d be sure to enjoy himself when he did.

xxx

Hermione felt an unknown uneasiness during breakfast the next day. As she was spreading butter on a scone, she felt like she was being watched.

Lily was animatedly discussing the Charms essay she already finished, but Hermione was only barely paying attention. Her eyes slid over to where James, Remus, Peter, and Sirius were sitting. They were laughing, as they usually did. Her eyes settled on Sirius, who was in the middle of telling a joke, causing the entire half of the Gryffindor table to erupt in laughter.

He must have felt her gaze, for he glanced up straight at her. Hermione flinched and averted her eyes, feeling annoyed that she was yet again caught staring. Slowly, though, her eyes drifted to meet his again. She had expected him to resume his conversation, but found him gazing at her intently instead, grey eyes fixated on her.

His lips curled into a smirk, and he winked.

"Are you alright?" Lily's soft query stopped the unpleasant thoughts clouding her mind. Nodding, Hermione took a bite of her scone and tried her best not to glance at Sirius again.

On the other side of the Gryffindor table, Sirius was mildly shocked and extremely amused at the reaction he'd managed to rise from Hermione. He hadn't meant to infuriate her. The fact that he'd caught her staring at him was nothing new; several girls and boys tended to more often than not, though it hardly mattered to Sirius.

In this instance, Sirius was doing much the same. Every so often he’d glance at her, trying to suss her out. Since the day she arrived Sirius couldn't quite place a finger on the feelings she inspired in him. He felt, inexplicably, like he recognized her, knew her.

But just as quickly he’d been proven false; he did not know her at all.

But he wanted to. She knew secrets of the castle that no one else did, held secrets that he was certain she'd never tell. He didn't know why he was fixating on it so much, why it bothered him that he both enjoyed her and disliked her; that she seemed to know things that he did not, and not in the way an older student knew things he did not; he did not understand the unbidden curiosity that piqued when her name came up, but it was there. Who was he to deny himself a good investigation?

He didn't like what he saw on the Marauders' map last night, and he felt suspicion building inside of him. He didn't like this. He didn't trust her. Something about Granger put him on edge.

Sirius glanced at her again, wondering if she was one to dabble in the dark arts.

With a pang in his heart he glanced over to the Slytherin table, where his younger brother Regulus sat. It had disappointed him when he watched Regulus get sorted into Slytherin, and it had confused him beyond belief. Sirius always thought of his little brother affectionately, and to some degree he still did. But after Regulus's first year, his only friends being the children of known Death Eaters, Sirius felt ill and could no longer keep up a pretense that their relationship hadn’t changed as brothers. Regulus had grown cold towards Sirius, much like his dear mother. And all the while, as they had grown distant with mounting contempt for each other, Sirius couldn't help but feel that he'd failed as an older brother.

He sighed and looked away from the blank expression of Regulus when his eyes flickered to his, noticing Sirius's stare.

He watched Hermione take a chunk out of her buttered scone, only to have it fall from her fingers and plop onto the front of her blouse. Pouting indignantly, she began cleaning it off as Lily laughed uproariously.

Sirius smiled a bit. If Hermione Granger was a Death Eater, she was a bloody funny one.

xxx

The feeling of being watched did not leave all day.

Hermione had tried to pinpoint it on someone, but there wasn’t anyone suspicious enough to be eyeing her so. It was just her own mind.

Why the sudden paranoia? She felt like she was going crazy. This had to stop.

"Hey Hermione?"

Hermione looked up across the table. Lily was biting her lip nervously. They were studying in the library, several large textbooks spread open all over the table. Hermione furrowed her brow at the strange expression on Lily's face.

"Yes? Are you alright, Lily?"

"Yes," Lily answered quickly, and looked away. Taking a steadying breath, green eyes pierced hers once more. "Have you, er…spoken to Severus lately?"

Hermione paused, staring intently at Lily's face. She seemed particularly apprehensive, which was very unlike the headstrong Gryffindor as far as Hermione had known her. She figured this had to do with Severus, who was having his own inner turmoil and avoiding Lily.

"Not really, no,” Hermione replied. “Just in potions. He wasn’t particularly verbose." Hermione watched Lily’s frown deepen, nodding distractedly. Hesitantly, Hermione asked, "Is something going on? He has been rather odd lately, even to me."

Lily let out the breath she'd been holding and growled frustratedly, "This is the thing: I don't know. He's been so peculiar and he’s not really speaking to me—I don't even know why, he's acting like a complete arse and a lunatic and—why are you smiling?"

Hermione dropped her smile and sobered immediately, though mirth still danced in her eyes. "Seems like you're very worried about Severus, Lily."

"Well, you would too if your best friend suddenly went berserk every time he spoke to you!"

Lily and Hermione stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter.

"Whatever the case," Hermione finally managed as their giggles subsided, "I'm sure it's nothing serious. He's just…well, sometimes he's in his own world, I suppose. Don't get worry too much over it; give him time. Although, out of curiosity," Hermione lowered her voice, "when did he start acting like this? It sounds sudden."

Lily shrugged, a little helplessly. "I don't really know," she admitted, furrowing a brow in thought. "I reckon a week ago, after we walked back from Defense…" She stopped, and heat rose in her cheeks. “Ah."

"What?"

"Nothing," Lily said quickly, suddenly feigning ignorance. "I guess we'll find out later what Sev's up to, won't we?"

Hermione studied her new friend carefully, deciding to ignore Lily's blatant change of tone. "Yes. Eventually."

They went back to studying, though Hermione's mind could barely focus on the ruins etched in the textbook before her. While she did find Severus and Lily's ordeal mildly amusing and—daresay—cute, she remembered James. Hermione tried her best to keep away from the trio in that respect, for she would rather die than be responsible for a drastic change in the timeline. Some things, as Hermione understood, were inevitable. Severus and Lily would never be.

That did not mean that Severus would have to endure the pain of finding her lifeless body in Godric's Hollow, or that Lily would have to suffer the fate of death by Voldemort's hand. No; many things would have to change while Hermione was here. Her permanent residence was in 1975—she may as well make sure the horrors of this era did not follow through.

Thank Merlin she had a few years to change the course of history. Hermione suppressed a shudder at the thought of turning time only to arrive in 1981, the year Voldemort did his worst damage.

As Hermione leafed through the pages of her text, a thought struck her mind.

Why hadn't Dumbledore simply sent her back to when Tom Riddle was in school? Or better yet, before he’d received his Hogwarts letter?

"I'm off to bed, now," Lily announced, and Hermione looked at the time.

"Good heavens, have we been at this for five hours?" Hermione said disbelievingly. It felt like merely minutes had passed.

"Well, we can't be the brightest witches in our year studying like Potter and Black, now, can we?" Lily teased, stretching in her seat and sighing. "Speaking of which…they seemed to have calmed down their pranks these last few weeks. I daresay they’ve taken your warning to heart."

Hermione nodded, frowning a little. "I suppose so.”

"To think, all these years of trying to get them to back off, and all I needed was you to do the talking," Lily smiled as she gathered her books and stuffed them in her bag. "Shall we head out?"

Hermione nodded in agreement and rose from her seat, stretching until her back cracked. It was best to get some rest before she headed out again tonight, and every subsequent night for that matter. She refused to waste any time here.

They stepped inside the portrait tiredly, Hermione trailing behind Lily as they trudged inside the common room.

"I wouldn't do that," Lily said, noting that Hermione was heading to collapse in one of the armchairs. "You really should just head up to the dorm; it'll make life a lot easier."

"I'll be up in a minute," Hermione assured, rubbing her shoulder slightly. "If I climb into bed now I’ll never unknot whatever’s happened to my shoulder." Lily smiled, shaking her head, and Hermione smiled back. "Night, Lily."

"Goodnight, Hermione." With that, Lily left.

Hermione turned back to the armchairs around the fireplace and almost immediately groaned at her mistake. Among the other students in the common room, the two whom she did not feel inclined to interacting with were sitting by the only vacant armchair. It hardly mattered, though; she’d never let that sort of thing stop her before. If anyone should be avoiding her, it was them.

She shuffled over to the armchair and sank down, and an involuntary sigh of relief escaping her. She could feel all the knots in her back and shoulders beginning to loosen.

"Alright there, Granger?" James said, glancing at her over the newspaper in his hands. He was sitting beside her in the armchair.

"Magnificent," Hermione mumbled, eyes closed as she tried to absorb as much comfort from the chair before heading to her dormitory.

Hearing no response back, Hermione opened one bleary eye to study James. He was regarding at her strangely.

"What?" Hermione said impatiently.

"Nothing," James said quickly. "Just, you know...that's the first thing you've said to me in weeks."

Hermione closed her eye again. "I hardly thought you’d notice." A lie; it was fairly noticeable. And it was true; she hadn't spoken to him for weeks. But she had good reason to; their behavior had been too...something for her. Beyond its reprehensibility, Hermione felt personally let down that two men whom Harry had idolized so much had been anything less than wonderful in their youth. It was a metaphorical break from the fantasy they’d all been entertaining on Harry’s behalf, and Hermione was the one who had to confront the reality.

Still, she couldn't be on bitter terms with James, or even Sirius, forever. She had to remind herself that they were young and reckless teenagers, and that the boy next to her was her best friend's father. Would-be father, if he ever gathered his wits and presented himself to Lily without being a complete tosser. Hermion should have expected, or at least remembered, that Snape used to be bullied by the Marauders.

Nonetheless, seeing it firsthand was too unpleasant to ignore.

"Look," James started uneasily, "About...you know...we went too far. It was a shite thing to do."

Hermione looked at him. "It's not me you should be saying this to."

James blinked. "Apologize to him? Fat chance!"

"Then you're clearly not very sorry," said Hermione coldly.

"It's not that. You don't know what he does to us either, Hermione," said James, growing annoyed. "He throws curses, dark curses—you've no idea what he can do."

Hermione glanced away. "I know what you can."

She didn’t miss the crestfallen look James gave her.

"Oh, honestly..." she muttered. “I suppose acknowledging you did something wrong is a start. Barely.”

"I do agree with you there," a deep voice cut in a few feet away. "Perhaps I should follow James's example."

Hermione looked over to the seat beside James. Sirius smiled at her. "Fancy seeing you here, Hermione. Usually you stay ten feet away from us."

"I could say the same," Hermione retorted, readjusting herself in the armchair so she could face them more directly, "and as far as I remember, you ran away from me. Tail between your legs and all."

James barked out a laugh, but Sirius merely smiled at her warmly. "You don't want to know what's between my legs, love."

Hermione’s entire expression soured and she pushed herself up from the armchair. "Right, I'm off to bed.”

"Oh, don't be like that," James called. "I have something for you, anyway."

Hermione turned back slightly. "What is it?"

"A letter from Mum," James answered, holding out a sheet of folded parchment. "She wants to know if you want to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays or if you want to go home."

"Home?" Hermione repeated, her voice softer than intended.

"Yeah," James said slowly. "You know. With us?"

She swallowed. Why did that not cross her mind? Of course she'd be staying with the Potters indefinitely, even going to stay with them over the holidays. She and James would be living together for the next few years.

Hermione's eyes slid over to Sirius, who was gazing at her intently as the flickering flames in the fireplace cast obscure shadows around his face, leaving his expression indistinguishable. Her eyes widened.

As would Sirius.

He would be living with the Potters soon, sometime when he was already sixteen, and that was not far at all.

"Yes, of course," said Hermione finally, and took the offered parchment. She attempted a smile. "I'll be sure to write that I'd love to come over for the holidays."

James started to smile and nodded, though he was still watching her carefully. Sirius said nothing.

"Well then. Goodnight."

They replied in kind, and Hermione fled to the girls' dormitory in relief.

It was going to be a long three years at Hogwarts.

xxx

Once Sirius was certain Hermione had gone into her dorm, he glanced at James. "She's a bit strange, that one."

James nodded absently, still staring at the door to the girls' dormitory. "She's been through a lot. It's understandable, I think, forgetting that I'm her…well…surrogate family of sorts now."

Sirius contemplated this for a while, staring into the fire.

"There's something else about her, James."

James looked at him closely. "What do you mean?"

Sirius looked away from the flames and into the brown eyes of the bespectacled young man before him. "Last night, when I took the map from you, I saw her on it. She was out of bed in the middle of the night."

"So?" James shrugged. "We do that all the time. I'd be disappointed if she didn't do her own sneaking around Hogwarts; wouldn't be a true Gryffindor otherwise."

"That's not it, James," Sirius said fervently, lowering his voice. "I saw her on the map. She was on the seventh floor, dodging prefects and whatnot. Then she went to this wall, and she just stood there. For a really long time. And then, the next thing I know, she's walking towards the wall and right and up disappears!"

"What do you mean, 'disappears'? Nobody disappears on the map," James said disbelievingly, alarm touched on his handsome features. "It's bloody foolproof."

"It is," Sirius agreed, "but this is different. I…I decided to go see for myself. I stood in front of the wall, just as she had, and…and then some sort of door appeared, and it was a broom cupboard, and I got frustrated and walked out—but right when I did, the door started changing into a large, iron door. And Hermione stepped out of it. She's discovered something about the castle that nobody else knows. That we didn't know, and that even the map cannot detect."

James was silent for a long time, taking all the new information in. Finally he said, "Did you tell Remus and Peter? What do they think?"

Sirius shook his head. "I didn't tell anyone yet, never got the chance. This is what I was getting to before Lily and Hermione walked through the portrait." He sighed, raking a confused hand through his black locks. "There's something odd about that girl, James. I don't know whether it's good or it's bad just yet, but she's different. She's not one we should underestimate."

James cracked a smile. “Why? Because a girl dared to discover something we hadn’t already sussed out?”

“It has nothing to do about being a girl,” Sirius growled.

“Is it so unbelievable she found a Hogwarts secret?”

“This fast?” Sirius said skeptically. “And why would she try to? What was she doing in there?”

“I dunno. Whatever she felt like doing, I reckon.” James shrugged.

Sirius sighed exasperatedly. “You’re completely missing my point.”

James mirrored his sigh and leaned forward a bit. “I hear you, mate. I get she gives you a bad feeling—”

“I never said it was bad.”

“Regardless,” James stared at Sirius pointedly, “I think you’re making something out of nothing. She’s just a girl, Sirius. A girl who went through a bloody traumatic event at the end of summer. Her family’s gone. If she’s found a secret room, let her have her secret room.”

Sirius closed his eyes and hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry. It doesn’t make bloody sense. I know you’re right…she’s just a girl. But what I feel, I can’t help it. I…”

James mused on this for a moment. "Right. Would you feel better if we searched this together?”

Sirius started to grin.

The two boys retired to their dorms and laid still in bed. It was until they were certain that everyone had gone to sleep that James sauntered over to Sirius's bed and drew the curtains around them.

"Ready? James whispered.

Sirius nodded and climbed out of the bed.

According to the map, Hermione Granger was still in her dormitory, her name hovering innocently among several other Gryffindor girls. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later when she finally stirred.

Sirius and James were prepared. They watched her name drift slowly from the dormitory to outside the portrait hole. The pair then slinked out of the common room and snuck underneath the cloak, rendering them invisible instantly.

Sirius guided them to the wall he knew Hermione was headed toward. They slowed their pace as they approached it, and Sirius could make out Hermione's mass of curls and lithe form in the faint light.

James watched with interest as the wall opposing her began shifting. A door appeared before her, high and metal, just as Sirius had described. Hermione went in and the door melted back into a brick formation. A quick lumos over the map told showed him all the proof he needed. Hermione was no longer there.

"Now what?" James asked Sirius.

"Now…we figure out how this bloody hunk of brick works."

At first the same thing kept showing up: a broom cupboard. Sirius grew increasingly frustrated and swore loudly, much to James's disapproval.

"A black door appeared for Hermione," James mused deeply. "She clearly had something else in mind." Realization dawned over James. Rushing to the wall, he gestured for Sirius to step away a little. He complied, watching James curiously.

James touched the wall and paced alongside it slowly. He halted in the center, and watched the wall expectantly.

Sirius gaped when the wall began taking form of giant double doors with brass knobs and intricate detailing. James glanced back at Sirius. "Come on, mate."

James opened the door and the two stepped inside cautiously. Sirius prepared to cast lumos but realized it was unnecessary.

The room was enormous and lit candles illuminated the room, engulfing it with bright yellow light completely. There was a gigantic bathtub in the center of the room with dozens of little knobs everywhere. To the side were rows and rows of sofas of all different sizes with two crackling fireplaces near it, and to the right were two very large, very soft-looking, king-sized beds with silk sheets.

Sirius let out an astonished laugh, clapping James on the back. "You did it, mate! Shit, this is amazing!"

"At least we figured out one thing, tonight," James grinned. "This room is fantastic."

"How did you do it? What is this room?"

"I realized, after your several failed attempts with the broom cupboard," James replied with a smirk, "that the wall is to our bidding. It gave Hermione that door, didn't it? And you were probably expecting something insignificant, which is why you kept getting that closet." James looked at Sirius excitedly. "It's a room that gives us what we want, Sirius," he paced around the large room in wonder. "I asked the wall if it could give me a place where I could relax and forget the world, and I had this sort of thing in mind. And the room gave it to me."

Sirius couldn't take the grin off of his face. "I cannot wait to tell Remus and Peter."

As they explored the room, they realized some restrictions. Food was not an option. Sometimes things randomly appeared inside the room when either one of them were idly thinking about a particular object. It gave them whatever else they needed freely.

"What shall we call this place, Sirius?" James asked lazily as they lounged on one of the sofas.

Sirius thought about it for a while. He wished he had a quill or parchment that he could write a list of possible names. Suddenly he felt something roll by his left foot. Leaning over the sofa, he saw a neatly rolled piece of parchment and a quill and ink bottle lay innocently by his sofa near his foot.

Slowly, a grin began to spread across his face. "We shall call it the Room of Requirement."

xxx

James and Sirius wasted no time to tell Remus and Peter about the mysterious room. In their excitement last night they did not notice Hermione slip back into the girls' dormitory, and it was only when James remembered about the map that they saw her name climb through the portrait hole.

All four Marauders began exploring the miracle of the Room of Requirement, watched each night as Hermione slipped from her dormitory to the wall. No matter how hard they tried, they could not enter to where she disappeared into. After the first few attempts, they gave up altogether, deducing that it was probably one of the many secrets about the Room of Requirement that they were not privy to.

As the week progressed, and the Marauders knew that the time was coming. Remus was beginning to look more and more ill as the days passed, and his senses were sharpened to the point that he could not walk even twenty feet near a piece of bacon without gagging. "It smells of blood and death," Remus hissed in disgust at Peter's prodding.

Hermione caught on to Remus's sickness quickly, knowing full well that the full moon would be approaching. He would sit in class stiffly, breathing through his mouth so that he wouldn't have to smell the vicious scents of girls' perfumes and the other odd things brewing in the classrooms. She felt a pang of sadness for him. She considered briefly to attempt brewing a wolfsbane potion for him, but knew that in doing so she would be revealing not only something that could irreparably damage the timeline, but if anyone else were to discover her brew, she would be revealing her true nature as a time traveler. Thus, Hermione sighed heavily and was forced to watch one of her mentors in the future suffer miserably.

It had to be a lonely thing, the transformation. Hermione thought of Remus standing inside the shrieking shack once a month, alone, waiting for his body to start shifting into a werewolf. All by himself, as a young teenage boy. He must have been terrified the he first changed.

Remus began noticing small things as well. Whenever Hermione was with him, he felt a distinct impression of understanding coming from her. And strong friendship. This made no sense at all; they were not quite friends yet, and the only people on the planet that truly understood him were Peter, James, and Sirius. Why did she always look like she knew something?

He also noticed her reactions when Sirius was around. Mostly she’d be irritated. But other times, when she thought nobody was looking, he could feel her heartbeat race just at the sight of him, and it wasn't in anger. Her eyes would betray her emotions easily at this time, for she gazed at him deeply, with a mixture of sadness and something a little more.

The night of the full moon arrived quickly. Remus felt sick all day, and it wasn’t just because of the aches and pains in his body. It was the sick anticipation of his first transformation of the school year. The first among many days that he would be stuck inside an abandoned shack to change into a monster. He wished he could kill the bastard that did this to him, that ripped any sense of normalcy from his life. He was stuck like this forever.

Night dwindled, and it was when dusk arrived that Remus trudged out into the common room. Hermione was sat near the fireplace, head buried inside an Ancient Runes book. She glanced up as he approached the portrait hole.

He expected her to say something, but she remained silent. Remus gave a nervous smile. "Not…not feeling well," he explained. "Thought I'd head to the hospital wing."

"And he's got his best friends to escort him," a voice said loudly, and James, Peter, and Sirius walked over to where Remus stood. James slung an arm around his shoulder. "Don't want you collapsing halfway to the hospital wing, now, do we?"

Remus smiled tightly and glanced over to Hermione. She didn’t say anything, only smiled faintly. It unnerved him.

"Well…I'm off."

He stepped out into the portrait hole and his friends followed. He heard them joking and laughing, trying to cheer Remus's spirits, but he could hardly concentrate on their voices.

Finally, Peter that interrupted his thoughts. "It's just another transformation, Remus," he said lightly. "It'll be over before you know it."

"He's right," James agreed. "It's just once a month. Ten months this schoolyear. A handful of days of this nonsense. It'll be fine; we're here for you."

Remus nodded, but the anxiety mounting in his gut would not abate. He dreaded what was to come. The full moon was there, rising inevitably into the night sky. He’d only have a matter of minutes before his bones began shifting and breaking into impossible pieces.

They arrived at the statue that led into the Shrieking Shack. Remus turned around one last time to look at his friends. He smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, mates."

He received several claps on the back and a few parting jokes, and soon he found himself walking alone in the dark passageway. After a few minutes he arrived at a wooden hatch and he lifted it up, climbing up into the shack completely.

Slowly he stripped himself of his clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them into the passageway entrance, then shut the hatch and locked it. He shivered slightly against the cool night air, and looked up at the high windows, waiting for the streak of moonlight to fall inside. His naked skin felt goosebumps and he breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves.

His eyes wandered to the window again, and he saw, clear as day, the full circle of the moon.

His spine was first. It snapped back in a distinctive crunch, and Remus gritted his teeth. His shoulders popped next, legs tensed as they gave out and his knees crashed onto the hard floor. He could feel the warmth of his blood already sliding against the floorboards. There was always blood.

His fingers cracked, knuckles whitening, and he saw through his peripherals that his hair was sliding down his face, lengthening. He let out a moan as he doubled over, his body breaking into pieces then remolding into another body. His eyes glazed and he began seeing red, prompting him to squeeze his eyes shut. The faintest trace of tears kissed his skin.

"Fuck," he ground out, helpless against the movements and cracks his body made. His heart started racing, thinking about how if anyone ever found out about him, about him being a werewolf, they would never speak to him again. "Fuck."

A crash across the room forced his streaming eyes open. He crawled into a sitting position, trying to see where the noise came from. His tunnel vision caught sight of a dark form lingering a few feet ahead of him.

He was not alone.

His eyes widened. "No," he breathed, and then sharply cried out as his body began to fully transform. The figure approached him slowly, as if it were in the same agony he was in. But for some reason, Remus could tell that he enjoyed it.

"I could smell you a mile away," a voice rasped thickly. "Knew you'd come here to play. Do you want to play?"

Remus managed a glare, forcing words through his teeth. The man was halfway through his own transformation. “I dunno who you are mate, but I’d rightly fuck off, thanks.”

The strange man frowned. “Not a very nice whelp, are you? ’S not every day I see one just like me.”

"I said, get awa—" The words stayed unfinished as his body twisted and contorted on the floor. The last thing he heard was rich laughter promptly turning into a growl.

xxx

The Marauders didn't come back to the common room for several hours. Hermione had grown tried from studying a while ago, and wasn’t very interested in searching for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem again. The bloody room was too big. It would take her ages to find Voldemort's horcrux.

She stared out the window and saw the full moon. Remus Lupin must’ve already transformed into his werewolf form. He must feel so alone each time during the change. It saddened her that Remus had such a large burden to bear for the rest of his life, especially right now, where there was no help with Wolfsbane.

Nodding off, Hermione fell asleep curled along the common room sofa, and did not immediately hear the portrait hole opening and closing. Soft voices filled her consciousness.

"What's she still doing here?"

"Dunno.”

"Should we wake her?"

"I'll do it." It was Sirius.

A skeptical scoff. “Why you? I’m the sort-of relative.”

“Because you’ve still got chocolate sauce on your hands, you nit.”

A short pause. “Right. Carry on.”

After a bit of shuffling, Hermione felt her arm being shaken lightly, a low voice saying, "Hermione?" Her arm shook again. "Hermione, go upstairs to sleep.”

"Hmm.” She rolled over.

“You want to be covered in soot in the morning?” Another pause. "Right then."

Firm hands looped around her back and under her knees and she was forcibly lifted. Immediately her eyes few open and met silvery ones above her.

"Ugh! Get off me." Hermione wriggled in his arms with a pinched look.

“Sorry, love. I let you go and you'll fall dead on the stairs."

She squirmed harder. “Don’t make me hurt you,” Hermione warned.

Even in the dim light she caught his faint smirk. "Would you rather I dropped you?" Hermione answered with a glare. Shrugging, Sirius replied, "As you wish."

She felt his grip suddenly loosen and her arms—they were traitors, really—immediately looped tightly around his neck. She could faintly smell sandalwood and grass against his skin. She ignored how his deep chuckling sent shivers down her spine and straight down her abdomen. And if she was a little closer than strictly necessary, well, nobody needed to know that either.

“Sans brutishness is preferred,” said Hermione, glowering.

"I would never," Sirius grinned. He lowered her legs down onto the floor and Hermione planted her feet firmly on the ground. When she didn't immediately drop her arms from around his neck, Sirius's eyes darkened a fraction. Hermione didn't know why she didn’t let go, or why a small, equally traitorous part of her didn’t really want to.

"This is the part," Sirius said quietly, "where you let go. And possibly inflict physical harm.”

"Right.” Hermione swallowed thickly. She slid her arms down his shoulders and let them hang at her sides. "Physical harm may need to be postponed until I’m more awake. Any other suggestions?"

Sirius smiled slowly. "I have plenty of suggestions, Granger. I just don't think you'd want to hear any of them."

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Here we go again.”

“What?”

“The macho red-blooded male posturing. It’s very tiresome, Sirius, and I’m already exhausted.”

“Posturing?”

“Yes. That,” Hermione waved vaguely in his direction, “thing you do. The smolder. The terrible double entendre. It’s obviously some sort of covering mechanism, but honestly you really don’t need it.”

Sirius stared at her for a long moment. "Well aren’t you full of mysteries.” His expression narrowed, and Hermione fought the urge to fidget. "I can’t seem to figure you out, Granger. Why?"

Hermione hiked a brow. “Don’t we think very highly of ourselves?”

Sirius snorted. “And you don’t? Your overconfident ego is visible a kilometer away, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Hermione coolly. “And in any matter, you’d dislike me regardless.”

"Why’s that?"

Hermione fixed Sirius with a firm stare. "I stopped you from your most favorite sport of tormenting a Slytherin."

Sirius’s expression shuttered. "I'll live," he said tightly. "Besides, there's a hundred other Slytherins to choose from, right?"

"You shouldn't hate them just because they're Slytherin," Hermione said sternly. "Not everyone sorted in that house is evil."

"Really?" His voice was challenging. "Name me one."

Hermione furrowed her brow at his request. "Why just one?"

"You have more?"

"I can list the entire House, Sirius."

Sirius laughed. "You're barking. Do you know what kind of people are in Slytherin?"

"And do you know what kind of people are in Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Honestly," Hermione scowled, frowning, "anybody in Slytherin is not automatically a Death Eater. You don't know every single Slytherin; you can't collectively deduce they're all pure evil."

"I most certainly can. Does it not strike you as surprising that all Death Eaters have been in Slytherin?"

"The ones you know of, maybe.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Do you know any other Death Eaters that aren’t?”

"Well. No," Hermione admitted. "But I also don't the whole list of Death Eaters, either."

"There we go, then," said Sirius dismissively.

"No, we don't go! That's not logical," Hermione said frustratedly.

"It is. You'll see. You've only been here a month, you don't know yet," Sirius shrugged easily. "Rotten to the core. Hurling curses, whispering amongst each other—"

"You're angry that they whisper?" Hermione laughed incredulously, and Sirius glared.

"It's the subject of their whispering!" he said heatedly. "There's no actual good Slytherin, Hermione. It's best if you learn that early on."

“God, you’re frustrating.” Hermione snapped.

“You’ve only just realized?”

“Don’t you see the inimical pattern here?” Hermione shook her head. “Before new students arrive at Hogwarts they’ve already been fed narratives by their parents of what to expect from each House. Gryffindors expect Slytherins to be nasty, so they treat them distrustfully. Slytherins expect to be mistrusted or scorned, so they’re already defensive and stick with their own House mates. On top of that the competitive nature of House points and Quidditch leave us students helpless to the stereotyped class system expected of us to fall for, and we do! Every single time.”

Hermione exhaled, trying to catch her breath. Sirius stared at her oddly for a moment, then said, “Sorry, was I meant to get any of that?”

“Oh for the love of—fine.”  Hermione looked at Sirius steadfastly. "There's Severus Snape."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Severus Snape is not evil, Sirius."

"And my mother is a saint," he retorted. "The bloke's got it in for him, Hermione. He doesn't hesitate to cast hexes at us, before any of us even do anything. You’re trying to justify that?"

"And you’re trying to justify cruelty. ‘It’s Snape’ is not a good enough excuse. If you’re capable of doing it to him, you’re capable of doing it to someone else.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Sirius darkly. “But you haven’t answered me.”

Hermione stared for a moment. “I don’t see him as anything but who he is. If dark hexes are what he does, obviously that’s wrong.”

"Then you see where I'm coming from?"

Hermione sighed deeply. Dropping her hands to her sides, she stepped back.

"I do. I really do." Holding back a yawn, she ran a hand through her mass of flyaway curls. "It's getting late. I think I'll head in."

She didn't move though. She was held still by the curious expression Sirius had on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"You're not a Death Eater in disguise, are you?"

Hermione laughed incredulously. "Never. I don't think I exactly qualify, anyway, what with muggle parents and all."

"Good. Because I'd like to test a theory."

"What theo—"

Quick as lightning, Sirius leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.

It was over quickly, and Hermione wondered if it had actually happened or not. But the tingling on her lips could not be mistaken.

Sirius had an unreadable expression. "Hm."

"What," Hermione said slowly, anger sparking around her, her voice just above a whisper, "was that for?" Hermione's eyes flickered over Sirius's shoulder, catching a glimpse of the window. "Is that—Remus?"

Sirius gave a soft huff. "It's Sirius, love. Remember? Bloke you loathe?"

"No, no, it's Remus," Hermione said, moving past him to peer out the window. "He's outside, he's looks wounded...” She narrowed her eyes. “Someone's with him?"

"What?" Sirius moved to stand beside her, squinting. "Who the hell is that?"

Remus was crawling beside the Whomping Willow, completely bare, with scratches and mounting bruises along his body. Blood was splattered across his skin, and he was not alone.

A second figure approached. A shadowy hand darted out and grabbed Remus's hair. Hermione shrieked when he pulled back and kicked Remus in the ribs.

"GET OFF HIM!” Sirius roared. He backed away and made for the portrait hole.

"Wait!” Hermione grabbed Sirius’s sleeve. The Willow began moving, and one of the branches snagged the torso of the standing stranger and whipped him into the air, hurtling him a hundred feet away and crashing him into the lip of the Forbidden Forest. Sirius pressed against the glass as he watched the stranger weakly stand and sprint into the thicket of trees.

Remus began stirring slowly.

"Come on, Remus, touch the knot…" Sirius whispered, his fist pounding helplessly against the glass. Remus crawled along the grass and leaned against the trunk of the tree, weakly pushing against a knot. The violent movements of the willow ceased, and without wasting a beat, he slid back down into the hole and disappeared.

Hermione was dumbstruck. She backed away slowly from the window and from Sirius, whose expression could only be identified as murderous. He backed away too, his hands trembling, his body stiff.

"Sirius?" Hesitantly, Hermione moved closer to him, lifting a hand to touch his arm.

Sirius glanced up sharply. He grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

"Where?" Hermione said as he led them to the portrait hole.

"To the Willow."

"No. Sirius, we need to go to Dumbledore," Hermione dug in her heels, forcing Sirius to stop. "He needs to know that Remus was attacked tonight."

"And just leave him out there?" Sirius snapped angrily.

"He's in the tree. That stranger is gone. He's safe for now," Hermione answered evenly. "Two fifteen-year-olds can't catch the man who did that to him. We need Professor Dumbledore not just for Remus, but to capture the man that did this to him."

Sirius was still furious, and she could tell it was taking a lot of self-restraint from just ignoring her and letting his instincts guide him instead, but he nodded grudgingly. They walked to Dumbledore's office and stopped in front of it.

"Do you know the password?" Sirius asked tensely.

Hermione didn't. Taking a breath she said tentatively, "Lemon Drop?"

Nothing.

"Pumpkin Pasty?"

Sirius cottoned on. "Lemon Meringue?"

"Mince Pie?"

"Sugar Quill?"

The gargoyle sprung to life and Sirius glanced at her questioningly before stepping in after Hermione.

Dumbledore was sat at his desk, poring over a thick roll of parchment. His look of surprise when Sirius and Hermione entered his office was one she’d seen many times; most of them had been directed at Harry.

“Mr. Black? Miss Granger?”

“Professor,” Sirius began. “Remus’s been hurt.”

xxx

The staff brought Remus to the Hospital Wing where Madame Pomfrey attended to him immediately. Sirius and Hermione remained outside, waiting for permission to visit Remus. Hagrid had been sent to search Forbidden Forest to find the stranger who had hurt Remus during his transformation.

Sirius concluded that the stranger had to be a werewolf himself to survive being alone with Remus during the night.

Which only increased Hermione's worries tenfold.

Hermione glanced at Sirius as he leaned against a wall with his eyes closed. He’d shut down the moment he saw his best friend's mangled state. Knowing Sirius from before, Hermione remembered he’d felt helpless and even guilty for what had happened, and how he couldn't be by his Remus’s side to help him.

McGonagall walked toward them down the corridor, James and Peter scurrying close behind. At McGonagall’s nod, they rushed to Sirius began whispering furiously.

Madame Pomfrey opened the door, her attention sliding onto the boys. “He’s awake now. Do not rile him up.”

Without sparing Hermione a glance, they rushed inside.

Hermione shivered against the cool night air. She should probably leave. She’d blown a significant cover by knowing Remus’s condition.

The door opened, and James poked his head out. “He’s asking for you.”

“O-oh.” Hermione bit her lip and walked into the hospital wing.

James, Sirius, and Peter stood beside Remus's bed. James touched Remus’s arm lightly, tilting his head. Sirius had his hands in his pockets. Peter looked like he was going to cry.

Hermione lingered near the door, giving them their space. Remus seemed well-healed, though his face held traces of cuts and bruises. The horrific sight of a bloodied body was no more. Now, Remus seemed almost peaceful.

His eyes lifted to meet hers.

She shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze was locked onto the young werewolf as he stared at her with bottomless eyes. She moved closer, slowly, until she reached his bedside.

"Are you okay?"

Remus stared at her, his breathing turning uneven. Was it because of her? Hermione started shifting away but Remus grabbed her wrist.

“You know.”

Hermione glanced at James, Sirius, and Peter. They were watching her warily. Slowly, she nodded. “I know.”

A pause. “Do you hate me?”

There was levity in his tone; a deeper meaning in his question. Hermione shook her head. "I could never hate you."

Remus exhaled and his grip on her wrist slackened, until his hand rested on the bed once more. Hermione looked up slowly at the boys standing beside her, and they gave her an expression of disbelief.

xxx

"It will take a lot of practice," said Sirius, his tone warning. "It's not going to be easy."

"We know," said James exasperatedly. "We know the risks, Sirius. We're willing to take it."

"And don't you dare ask us if we're sure again," said Peter darkly. "We have to be do this. It isn't even a question."

Sirius looked over at his two best friends and nodded in agreement. "Okay, then. It's settled. When do you guys want to begin?"

"Tomorrow night after dinner," James suggested. "We can use the Room of Requirement to practice in. Tonight we should think of what animal we'll be transforming into."

"Are you sure that's how it works?" Peter asked. "I thought it just…I don't know…came to you automatically. We just have to put our own magic into it. Wandlessly, of course."

"Well you get what I mean," James snapped. "Tomorrow night we start practicing."

"Prepare yourselves," Sirius said gravely. "Tonight, we're just wizards. Tomorrow, we'll be learning to be Animagi."

Chapter 5: The Lake

Chapter Five

The Lake

News of Remus's stay at the Hospital Wing did not come as a surprise, much to Hermione’s interest. It seemed that the student body of Hogwarts had grown quite accustomed to Remus being frequently ill; when he did not turn up for classes the next day, or the day after that, no one questioned it. In some respect it was very fortunate, for had they visited Remus in the Hospital Wing, the sight of his battered body would cause some level of upset.

She also had not spoken to Sirius since the night in the Gryffindor common room. That fact itself sat very well with her. What occurred in the common room that night was, in a word, disturbing. And on several fronts—he did not like her, did not trust her, and Hermione’s feelings were mutual. As it were, there were some boundaries Hermione wasn’t keen on crossing. Sirius kissing her—as brief and irritating as it’d been—was a massive cross-checked and notarized boundary she wouldn’t even consider. She’d known him as an adult, for Merlin’s sake—whatever small, minute, miniscule thread of a feeling there could possibly potentially be, was irrelevant.

Despite this, she couldn’t stop turning over his words after he’d kissed her. Testing a theory. Just what did that mean?

As for Sirius, he was been spending copious amounts of time with James and Peter, even more than usual. They would disappear during lunch and dinner, giving excuses of "tired" and "loads of studying to catch up on". Lily found their behavior gratifying, sighing in relief during lunch that she did not have to put up with James's antics at every hour of the day. Hermione saw through it, though. She could tell that a very, very small part of Lily was a little disappointed with his absence, as her eyes glanced at the double doors every once in a while when she thought no one was looking.

It was three days after the attack on Remus that Hermione finally gathered the courage to go and visit him in the Hospital Wing. A package of chocolates in one hand and a card in the other, Hermione strode to the Hospital Wing during lunch.

The corridor was mostly deserted, save for a few wandering ghosts gliding through the walls. It was a beautiful day outside; most of the students were eating their lunches out on the grassy courtyards or by the Black Lake. Hermione felt the warmth of the sunlight against her skin, streaks of gold seeping through the windows.

She slipped through the door quietly. It was empty; Madame Pomfrey was most likely in the back room.

All of the beds were neatly made, white linen sheets tucked tightly across the springy mattresses. Remus was lying on the far left side of the room, an empty glass on the bedside table as well as a stack of books and parchment. Hermione regarded these with amusement; it seemed even lycanthropy wasn’t enough to temp Remus to fall behind on his schoolwork.

Currently, he was asleep. Hermione approached his bedside quietly, watching him in his slumber. He looked so young, so much younger than Hermione ever remembered seeing him. His face had cleared up from the abuse he received three nights ago, and not a speck of blood or a gash across his face was in sight.

He really was quite handsome. It made her heart pang that for so long in his life he never felt like he deserved to be loved, to get close to anybody. James, Sirius, and Peter were his best friends, yes, but Remus kept himself reserved most of the time, always polite but never intrusive. Even with Tonks, whom she knew he would later on marry, he was so vehement against a relationship in the beginning.

Leaning over, she placed the card on the table beside him. She gazed at him, sadness edging in her heart. He seemed so very alone, for someone so young.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open. His hand lurched in the air, grasping her throat. Hermione gasped for air as he stared at her wildly, uncomprehendingly. The hand that still held the package of chocolates began trembling and she dropped it onto the bed, trying her best with both hands to remove the fingers wrapped around her throat.

"Remus." Hermione gasped for breath. "Stop—Hermione." She put all her strength in pushing his hand away, but Merlin he was still so strong. "Let go.”

Her words seemed to sink in and Remus threw himself off, recognition in his eyes. Hermione began coughing, fingers massaging her throat.

Remus stiffened as he watched her, anguish on his face as he stared at the hand that had been wrapped around her neck.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized desperately, as Hermione began to regain some composure. "I—I don't know why I did that. I swear. I don’t ever—I don’t do that."

"That's…that's alright," Hermione rasped, forcing a small smile as her fingers delicately massaged her throat. "I can’t say it was unwarranted. You’d just been attacked and I caught you off guard."

An awkward silence ensued. Remus looked more miserable than ever and Hermione shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She spotted the package of chocolates lying forgotten on the bed. "I brought those for you."

Remus's eyes snapped up, then followed her gaze to where the package was lying on the blanket, just above his knees.

He reached out and grasped it in his hands, examining it. "They seem homemade," he noted. He glanced up at her kindly. "They look delicious."

Hermione’s smile brightened. “I may or may not have snuck into the kitchens last night. The house-elves helped.”

He smiled again. "It’s very kind of you." Remus placed the chocolates by his bedside and saw the card she'd made. "Is that for me as well?"

Embarrassment had heat rising in her cheeks as Remus picked up the card and studied it. He looked at her in disbelief. "You didn't have to do this for me, you know."

"Why not?" Hermione frowned. "You're a friend in hospital. It’s the least I could do."

His regarded her carefully before his eyes went downcast. "Right."

Hermione watched him place the card back on the table and sat up in bed a little stiffly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you angry?"

“No.”

Hermione shook her head. "You’re definitely angry. I’m just not sure why.”

"I don't think you understand what’s happened," he said calmly, refusing to meet her eyes. "And when you do—”

"I’ll what? Run down the hallways screaming 'werewolf!'?"

Remus flinched and looked up at her. His voice was hard. "Yes.”

Hermione swallowed. "Sorry to disappoint." She took a step back, stopping herself from saying things that she knew she'd regret. She understood where he was coming from, why he would be so wary of her acceptance. Lycanthropy came with a level of alienation and hardship Hermione would never know, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t empathize.

"Of all people…I’m the last to discriminate. You being a werewolf…" Hermione shook her head. "It's a part of your life that you have no control over. It doesn't make you any less brilliant than you were last week. You're still you. You're still my friend. And…I'm not about to go telling people about you. That's your private life, and you have the right to deal with it however you wish."

Remus was silent, stunned by her words. She knew she laid it on pretty thick with her understanding, but he needed to know that she just didn't bloody care, nor would she ever.

"You mean to say…that finding out about my condition has absolutely no effect on you?"

"Right."

"And that you see me no differently than what I was before you found out?"

"Precisely."

"Are you kidding?"

The edges of her mouth quirked. "Absolutely not."

Remus was silent for a long time. Without another word, he reached to the package of chocolates on the table and began unwrapping it slowly. Hermione had to fight off a smile at how endearing this new kind of awkwardness in Remus was. A Remus Lupin confronted by unconditional acceptance was one only the other marauders likely witnessed.

He fished out a chocolate and held it in his palm. Then, slowly, he took a bite. "This is wonderful," he said quietly.

Hesitantly, Remus held out the chocolates. Eyes locked with his, she took out one and brought it to her lips.

"Yes," Hermione agreed softly. "It's wonderful."

xxx

"FUCK!"

A chair was thrown across the room and crashed violently against the wall, sending chunks of wood flying in each direction.

"Now Sirius, you know that chair did nothing to you. Such a wasted death," James said somberly, waving his wand in the air and repairing the chair with ease.

Sirius glowered at his friend, twitching at the amusement he saw in his eyes. "This is not funny, James! How are we supposed to be there for Remus if we can't even begin to transfigure ourselves! This is so bloody confusing!"

"You know we have to ignite the magic within ourselves," James said patiently, as if he had already explained this to him many times, and took a seat on the newly mended chair with a sigh. "Remember all the things McGonagall taught us about Animagi? Just take it easy, calm down, and keep going. You knew this wouldn't come easily."

"Yes, and we're trying to do this within a month, whereas the entire Animagi community masters the art of human transfiguration in years," Peter agreed, slightly out of breath. They had been at this for hours, and midnight was fastly approaching. They were sweating and exhausted, their haggard appearance and sluggish movements giving them away.

"I know." Sirius sighed in defeat, leaning against a pillar for support. His gaze turned brooding. "It just…it frustrates me. We have to do this for him. I don't want him out there alone again."

"And he won't be," James said gently. Jumping from his chair, he strode to his friend and clapped him on his shoulder. "It's only been three days, Sirius. We have weeks to go. We'll keep practicing here in the Room of Requirement, as long as it takes."

Sirius nodded, James’s words relaxing him a bit. The moment he'd seen Remus's battered body by the Whomping Willow, and—Sirius recalled with malevolent anger, gritting his teeth—when that bastard had struck him, Sirius was filled with a fiercely overwhelming surge of protectiveness, anger, and helplessness.

The first two were bearable, to an extent. It was the helplessness that Sirius couldn’t tolerate. He did not like the feeling of watching someone like a brother to him getting beaten bloody, and knowing there was nothing he could do. He never wanted to see Remus helpless at the hands of another opponent again.

After a few more tries, the marauders agreed to call it a night. Too tired and sweaty to go under the invisibility cloak all at once, they decided to take their chances and stealth their way back to Gryffindor tower.

The moment the trio stepped out of the door, they bumped straight into a girl.

Hermione let out a small shriek and staggered backwards, but James quickly caught her arm and righted her. She stared at them wildly, mouth agape.

"What," she said, looking back and forth between them, slightly panicked. "What—you—here so late?"

"Will have to run that by us again, sis, didn’t quite catch that," James said dryly.

Hermione took a deep breath. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "What are you three doing out of bed so late, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Fancy you should be asking us," Sirius said, amused. " I could ask you the same."

Hermione's mouth clamped shut.

Sirius smiled slowly. "I thought so."

"I was just out…to go to the kitchens. Something I know you three definitely do."

"The kitchens are on the other side of the castle.” James pointed in the other direction.

Hermione huffed. "Well, now I know. That still doesn't answer why you three are here."

"Honestly, you sound like Mum," James said with a wrinkle to his nose. "You're neither a prefect nor a figure of authority, so we don't have to answer anything. Let's drop it, yeah? I'm missing a date with a lovely four-poster bed."

Her eyes flickered past them, catching the Room of Requirement's door fading into the wall behind Peter's shoulder. Hermione sighed. Folding her arms, she asked, "How long have you known?"

"About what?"

"About the room."

For a beat, no one reacted. Then James cracked a smile. "For a bit."

"You know," Sirius said conversationally, "you're not the perfect Gryffindor you make yourself out to be."

“Sirius.” James frowned at him, but Sirius ignored it.

"If you considered me perfect, that’s entirely on you," Hermione snapped. "And what are you talking about?"

Sirius shrugged. "We know about your midnight strolls each night." Hermione froze, and Sirius's smile widened. "What exactly do you do inside that room with the black door, Hermione? Nothing naughty, I hope."

"How do you know about that?" Hermione said hoarsely. "Have you been following me?"

"How about," James stepped forward and slung an arm around her, "you get to keep your secrets and we get to keep ours. Deal?" When she didn’t reply, the trio sidestepped her and continued down the corridor.

Hermione whirled around. "Alright, fine. While we're here…I'd like to talk to you, Sirius."

"Sorry love, I'm knackered. Maybe some other time." Sirius waved idly as he walked, not looking back. He smirked when he heard, "You three better not go to bed without a shower! You smell like dragon dung!"

xxx

She heard distant laughter as they disappeared in the darkness. She paused for a few moments, making sure the trio was out of sight and no prefects were passing by. Carefully, Hermione went to face the wall again and paced three times. A black metal door appeared and she stepped inside.

Closing the door firmly behind her, Hermione stared at the enormous room. She had decided, after her first few nights of failure, to categorically scan the entire room in sections. She was nearly finished with one half of the room, but clearly without success.

An hour of rigorous searching passed. She sank to her knees against a wall, exhausted. Why was this so hard? From what Dumbledore had told her, Harry had found this horcrux within minutes! It was taking her weeks!

Sighing, she stood from her spot and decided nothing was going to get done today. Jumping to her feet, she put her wand back inside her pocket and started for the door.

Her foot snagged on a carpet and she lurched forward, dragging the carpet with her as she tumbled to the ground hard. Hermione groaned and rolled over to stare at the endless ceiling.

"God, this is ridiculous. If only I could write to Dumbledore. ‘Sorry Professor, I failed to save mankind because I couldn’t find a bloody crown hidden in the castle.’” Hermione adjusted her skirt and blouse as she rose to her feet. "I would be the one stuck to find all seven and destroy them in the 70s. Why not? Most brilliant witch of her age, all that rot." She looked up at the ceiling accusingly, imagining the future Dumbledore hovering somewhere in the heavens. "Why not Harry, hm? You liked him enough."

Her eyes traveled to the rug that had caused her fall. The opposite end was wound tightly around a small wooden desk that reached up to her knees, and she looked at it curiously. Kneeling down, she observed the ancient desk, standing on intricately carved legs and held a little drawer with a black knob.

Furrowing her brow, she examined a leg of the table in fascination. Sometimes wizards truly outdid themselves. The winding, moving strokes of wood, the small details engraved into it, nearly took her breath away.

It was when she realized that the winding pattern down the leg was actually a set of scales on a thick slope, that she realized the legs of the table were not legs. They were carved snakes.

"Good Merlin," she whispered, not daring to breathe. Whatever ancient piece of furniture she had in her hands, it was definitely Slytherin.

Hermione hastily reached for the drawer and pulled, but it did not budge. She’d assumed as much. Taking out her wand, she said, "Alohamora."

It unlocked.

Feeling giddy, she pulled the drawer open. Hermione inhaled sharply.

There, sitting on a blue velvety cushion, was a diadem.

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped her throat. Her fingers closed around the diadem and she held it up, examining it.

All notions of sleep vanished. At that moment nothing meant more to her than finally, finally finding her first horcrux. She didn’t want to say that it was easy, necessarily, but opening the drawer had been so simple. Why hadn't Voldemort put an enchantment or concealing spell on the drawer?

Hermione huffed a little. Voldemort probably never considered that anyone except his brilliant self would ever find this room or his horcrux.

Excitement rose in her and Hermione grinned. Merlin, she wished Harry and Ron were here so she could tell them! Quickly, Hermione tucked the crown inside her robes before taking out her wand and putting a Disillusionment charm. Now that she had the horcrux, she couldn’t take any chances. Quietly, she scurried back to Gryffindor tower.

Hermione clutched the diadem close to herself, making sure it stayed in the inside of her robes. Maneuvering quietly through the dark corridors, bypassing a notably less scraggly Mrs. Norris, Hermione finally reached her dormitory.

"Bargus Barnleby," she whispered, and with a loud snore, the Fat Lady swung the portrait open. Walking inside, she found the common room deserted. With a sigh of relief, Hermione rid the concealing charm from her body. Then, quietly as she could, Hermione made for the girls' dormitory.

"Back so soon?"

Hermione jumped. Sirius stepped out of the boys' dormitory entrance with a slight smile. She noticed his damp hair; he must’ve just showered.

"And all this time I thought you ignored the advice I gave you," Hermione said wryly.

"Unlike some, hygiene does pose importance to me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I thought you were going to sleep," she said as Sirius stopped in front of her.

He shrugged. "Tried. Couldn’t. Got a lot on my mind, you see."

"Right. Well, I'm tired," Hermione nodded to herself, and turned to leave. "Goodnight."

Sirius grabbed her arm. The diadem slipped under her robes but Hermione clamped her elbow down quickly, stopping it from falling out. Silently thanking both Merlin and Morgana, Hermione's eyes dipped down to the hand the held her, and then raised her eyes to meet his. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Stop what?" Sirius asked.

With deliberate emphasis, she removed each finger from her bicep. "Grabbing people without their consent. Especially people you hardly know."

Sirius shrugged. "I know you a little.”

Hermione frowned. "What are you playing at?" At Sirius's blank look, she gestured between them. "This. With the—yesterday, saying you're testing out a theory. You can’t test a theory on people without telling them why.”

Sirius's eyes had gone wide as she spoke, and once she finished he shifted away slightly and gave a small, short laugh under his breath. "I hardly thought you’d care. Was just something I wanted to try. Won’t do it again, wizard’s honor.” He crossed his arm over his heart.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That’s it?” Sirius shrugged again. “Is that supposed to explain why all the sudden you were up for snogging?"

Sirius snorted. "I’d hardly call that snogging." Hermione glared at him, and Sirius rolled his eyes. "I was testing something. Was just curious, alright? I wanted to know what would happen."

"And did you?"

Sirius flinched a little at the sarcasm in her voice. "I admit, it was mental. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Help me understand things.”

"And you thought kissing would help you understand," said Hermione blankly. At his chagrin, Hermione sighed. "Did you kiss James, then, when you didn't understand him?"

At this, Sirius’s mouth quirked upwards. "Well..."

Hermione found herself smiling and shook her head. "You're a good person, Sirius. Infuriating…but good. But this all really needs to stop. If you're curious about something, you could just ask me next time."

"Yes, yes, alright. Got anything else you want to get out of your system?"

“Sure. You’re irresponsible, rash…”

“Rash?”

Hermione nodded airily. "Like when you were going to storm off to the Whomping Willow after Remus was attacked?"

His expression hardening, he replied a little stiffly, "I would do anything to protect the ones I love."

His words were closer to the truth than he realized. Smiling a bit, Hermione nodded. "I know."

He glanced at her, eyeing her carefully, and then sighed. Running a hand through his dark locks, he said, "Well, I'm going to catch up on schoolwork. You're welcome to join me." He began walking over to an armchair.

As inviting as spending an evening with Sirius to do homework looked, the diadem concealed under her robes could not be ignored. "Maybe some other time. I am really tired." She gave him a wistful smile.

He nodded and sank down into an armchair. "Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Sirius."

Without another word, she walked to the girls' dormitory.

She sat silently on her bed for a while, the curtains drawn around her bed. The crown was very regal, very beautiful with ancient, intricate craftsmanship and radiating power she knew to be Rowena Ravenclaw's, as well as Tom Riddle's.

But the more she gazed at it, the more she held it between her fingers, the more she felt a burning ignite slowly inside her. The crown felt warmer to the touch, and her eyes crossed slightly as her mind drifted, uneven thoughts circling her head…thoughts that put her skin on edge…

Somebody in the dorm snored loudly and Hermione blinked, coming back to herself. She stared disbelievingly at the horcrux.

Fear gripped her as she dropped the horcrux onto the sheets. What in god's name just happened?

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with having the horcrux out in the open, much less near her, she knelt by her bed and hid the diadem inside her trunk, setting multiple concealing charms and enchantments to prevent anyone from stealing it, no less actually see the diadem. Satisfied, she dressed quickly into her night clothes and disappeared under the covers.

She could still sense it there, under her bed. It felt warm through the layers that separated her from it. Pressing against her. It made her anxious, and that worried her even more.

It was only the first horcrux and already she was feeling on edge. Was there something about them that she didn’t know about? A wave of resentment for Dumbledore passed through her. He sent her on this mission so quickly without even properly guiding her, telling her exactly to expect. She resented him for using the damned Time-Turner and dying because he had used it improperly.

She knew a part of Voldemort's soul had split and embedded itself into the diadem…but what happened when others were too close to it? When she had been holding it…a darkness began clouding her mind. What would have happen if she hadn't let it go?

Resolving that she would go to the library and research it, she turned to her side and sighed softly, putting all the negativity in her mind off to the side where it would be henceforth ignored.

Trying to relieve the tension still clenching her stiff muscles, Hermione's thoughts wandered back to Sirius. He was infuriatingly complicated to understand, his actions as chameleonic as his thoughts. Thinking about him was only furthering the pounding in her head.

Turning over in her bed with a small frown on her face, Hermione wondered what unstable future she was creating with every action, choice she made…and why the spot of her bed where her trunk lay underneath felt suddenly, bone-chillingly cold.

xxx

"These are bloody good, Remus! You have to admit, Hermione has taste." James crammed another chocolate in his mouth as he spoke, and Remus nodded, amused.

James was currently sat at the foot of his bed, with Sirius and Peter in chairs on either side of Remus. After a truly spectacular display of shameless wheedling, Remus allowed each of them some chocolate Hermione had made for him.

"So," Sirius started, chocolate still in his mouth, "when do you get out of here?"

"Tonight, actually," Remus replied. "I should be joining you for dinner, if all goes well."

"Excellent." Peter smiled. "You've been gone far too long and I don't think I can sit through another evening of James making an arse out of himself trying to get Lily to pay attention to him."

"I do not make myself look like an arse," James protested. "Is it so wrong to want to get her to notice me?"

"Yes," the three answered unanimously. James scowled.

"Well," said James, icily, "we'll see how you three feel when in ten years I'll be married to the finest witch on the planet and you sods will be single and balding."

"Single…" said Remus, troubled.

"Balding?" said Peter, numbly.

"Whoa," Sirius backtracked, "marriage, Prongs?"

James shrugged, eyes locked with Sirius's. "That serious, mate?" he asked softly. James shrugged again and looked away.

"Damn," Remus breathed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Don't get too excited, it's just a thought," James snapped irritably.

A beat passed. Remus cleared his throat. "You three have been looking awfully tired lately," Remus noted as he swallowed a morsel of chocolate. "Have you been spreading mischief about without me?”

"Yes," Sirius answered immediately, and James and Peter nodded.

Remus's eyes narrowed. "Really? What have you been up to?"

"Oh you know," said James offhandedly. "Planting dung bombs in the dungeons, enchanting the armor to sing love songs to the professors…the works."

"Mm," Remus noted. The display should have been convincing, would have been convincing, if Remus hadn't just transformed into his werewolf counterpart. Residual effects were still present in his body, one which included detecting heartbeats. The moment he'd asked about their whereabouts, their heartbeats had spiked. And when Sirius and James had answered, their heartbeats had risen further.

He smiled then, and changed the topic to the classes he'd missed the past few days. James, Sirius, and Peter relaxed as they returned as they animatedly relayed the last few days.

Remus was not certain why his best friends were so obviously keeping something from him, but it stung him deeply that they were.

xxx

"It's good to see him back," Lily noted over dinner. Her jade eyes softened as she looked at Remus, who was currently piling potatoes onto his plate.

Hermione nodded, taking a thoughtful bite from her food. His appearance had definitely improved since she last saw him, and seeing him out of the Hospital Wing was a welcome sight.

What Hermione couldn’t understand was why another werewolf had attacked Remus. How had he even known where the Shrieking Shack was? Hermione thought hard, sifting through every memory she had with the future Remus Lupin. Nothing had ever come up indicating that he'd been attacked like this while at Hogwarts. Then again, her former professor was a very private man who internalized everything—a defense mechanism for the monster that lived in him, likely.

She shook her head. No, not monster.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" James's voice boomed across from her, and both Hermione and Lily cringed. He leaned over the table towards them with a smile.

"Mind your own, Potter," Lily replied with a slight wince, concentrating heavily on her plate. Hermione's gaze shifted from James to Lily slowly; he looked slightly put-out by her fierce avoidance, but it did not stop him from attempting to cheerily to engage Lily in conversation. After six failed attempts, though, his attention wandered back to Hermione.

"Have you owled Mum yet?" James asked.

At this Lily's head snapped up. "Why would she owl your mother?" Lily asked narrowly.

James looked genuinely confused. Slowly, he replied, "Because Hermione lives with us now." Lily's eyes widened and James frowned. "Didn't you know?"

Lily turned to Hermione in disbelief.

"…Yes, I must've forgotten to mention it.” said Hermione, heat rising in her cheeks as the two stared at her. “The Potters are my legal guardians now. After what happened over the summer."

"Oh." Lily glanced down at her food. "I didn't know."

“I was only there for a few days.”

"Hermione's a bit on the shy side," James smiled gently, looking at Hermione with a knowing look. "I don't think she's told anybody; must be too ashamed of being my, ah…stepsister of sorts?"

"I'm not ashamed of you, James," said Hermione.

"Why not?" Lily replied, sipping her soup. "I can write you a list of reasons if you'd like."

A devious smile lit across James's face. "You write lists about me?"

Lily glanced up quickly and her mouth opened and closed, much to James's amusement. “No. I definitely don’t,” she said sharply, though the little red tinge across her cheeks was unmistakable. "I don't have time for this." Lily stood up, giving Hermione a forced smile. "Good night, Hermione." She looked over to James, whose grin widened, and promptly spun on her heel, exiting the Great Hall without a second glance.

"Why does she hate you so much?" Hermione couldn't help but ask as she watched Lily's retreating form. She knew eventually things would work themselves out, but the deeply-rooted dislike Lily held exclusively for James Potter made no real sense. Yes, he was quite infuriating, but so were the rest of the Marauders. So why just him?

James shrugged, then gave a wink. "She's just afraid to admit her undying love for me, that's all."

He was smiling genuinely and she knew that Lily’s coldness toward him did not bother him too much; he probably liked the thrill of chasing her.

Hermione's gaze traveled back to the Slytherin table, her eyes seeking a particularly hunched figure. Severus was quietly eating his dinner, though his eyes did flicker up towards the exit a few times from where Lily had left. He made no motion to leave, though, as he continued to pick at his food.

This too, she thought miserably. Feeling stifled, Hermione set her spoon back on her plate and jumped from her seat, bidding her fellow Gryffindors goodnight. As she walked down the Great Hall and to the exit, she help but feel watched, and saw that Severus's eyes followed her as she left.

But she did not stay a minute longer. Living in this generation would mean, inevitably, she would see its course of history as well, and she needed some air to process it. She wondered if she ever would really finish processing it.

A few months ago the prospect of caring about Snape's feelings would’ve made her laugh. Now it was quite serious and very, very genuine.

The sun had not yet set so Hermione left through the Entrance Hall and wandered the grounds, feeling the chill air with a shiver. Tugging her cloak tightly around her neck, she strolled the grounds listlessly.

Hermione knew from the beginning that Severus's feelings for Lily Evans would be futile, and had accepted it the moment she woke up in the Godric's Hollow. But, over the course of a few weeks, she realized that many things she assumed about Snape had been very misleading when it came to him as a young student. Dumbledore had been a little vague on the details before her time travel, only mentioning that Snape’s love for Harry's mother had protected Harry since his arrival at Hogwarts, and that he died with that promise.

What she hadn't prepared herself for was befriending the quiet, exceptionally talented wizard. She hadn't accounted for her feelings to get in the way; that she not only would she befriend him, but actually enjoy his company. To feel thrilled that she made his face light up with amusement sometimes. Hermione enjoyed talking with Snape, finally having an equal in passion for studies, and often found herself watching in admiration whenever Severus spoke passionately of potion brewing. Somehow she had become his friend, one of only two from what she'd gathered. And it was in this year he was meant to become a Death Eater.

While that was something she'd already planned on preventing, her position in the 70s suddenly made her very nervous. What if these future Death Eaters want to be persuaded, befriended? Hermione only knew fifteen-year-old Snape for a month, hardly enough to change his ways of thinking.

Even his thinking she couldn't be sure of. Did he dislike muggleborns on principle? He was a half-blood himself, and had scolded her for calling herself a mudblood. Surely that meant he wasn't inclined to the Death Eater mentality?

That hadn't stopped him from calling Lily a mudblood in his time, though.

What she did not want to witness, out of the other million horrible things that could happen over the next six years, was the night Severus Snape would realize his love would never, ever be returned.

With doubts and worries spinning through her head, she let out a small sigh as she strolled alongside the Black Lake. It was getting chillier by the minute, and the sudden gusts of wind had shivers running through her. She started to turn around and head back to the castle when a disturbance in the Black Lake caught her eye.

The water was rippling abnormally in a particular spot. At first she thought it was the Giant Squid poking around underneath the surface, but the movements were miniscule, even calm. Hermione crept closer to the edge of the lake and peered through the dark water.

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god!"

Someone was under water.

She started into the water but its icy temperature already had her feet stinging with numbness. Hermione clutched her head in dismay. How would she help him out if she would drown in the freezing water herself? Panic filled her instantly as her mind went completely blank. Oh god, oh god, oh god—

Suddenly Ron's voice filled her mind as she remembered when he'd shouted at her in their first year: 'Hermione are you a witch or not!'

"Yes, yes," she said breathlessly, gripping her wand and pointing it at the dark water. "Er, er—Accio Hogwarts student!"

It was the most foolish thing that had ever come out of her mouth, but the sudden rippling of the water had her thinking otherwise.

With an almighty force, a figure broke from the surface and flew toward her. The body crashed into her as they were both knocked backwards and landed a few feet away from the lake. Hermione shivered as the cold body above her robbed her breath. With a herculean effort, she pushed the still form away from her and rolled to the side, gasping for air.

After a moment, Hermione knelt beside the student and saw it was a boy, probably a year or two younger than her. Long locks obscured his face and his frame was stiff, as if frozen.

She also noticed he was not breathing.

"Oh good Merlin." She started chest compressions and Merlin knew if she was even doing it right because she only saw this done in muggle movies. Vaguely her mind registered that there was probably a spell for resuscitation, but her brain was too frozen and too frazzled to think of anything else.

When he made no movement and no water spurted from his mouth, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, and tilted his head back.

Her mouth pressed against his frozen lips as she blew air into his trachea. He remained motionless, and Hermione began to panic. Oh god. Someone was going to die in front of her. A kid was going to die before the war on Voldemort even began. Hermione tried the compressions but when that failed again, she threw her wand in the air and let red sparks shower around the pair, hoping somebody inside the castle would notice.

As she moved to push at his chest again, something caught her eye. Beneath his robe something was glowing, emitting a faint red light through the thick fabric. Her breath caught. For a moment she thought she heard a whirring sound when a sudden burst of light had her fumbling backwards, shielding her eyes. A ragged gasp ripped through the boy's lungs, his back arching off the grass. The intense red light receded from him and she blinked rapidly, fighting to regain her sight.

The spots from her eyes faded. She glanced over at the boy who was gasping raggedly, and sighed in relief. "Are you alright?"

He shivered uncontrollably in his icy wet clothes, stiffening at the sound of her voice HE started struggling to sit up. "I don’t know if you should try moving yet—"

"Shut up."

Hermione's mouth snapped closed, eyebrow arching. "I don't think so," she said, slightly incredulous. "You nearly drowned. A ‘thank you’ would—"

"Thank you?" The boy let out a short, incredulous laugh. "After nearly killing me and ruining everything? Are you joking or are you naturally this stupid?"

Hermione was at a loss. How did someone have so much composure and such leveled calm after nearly drowning? Anger flared in her. "I’m sorry, what?"

"Deaf as well, then?"

Hermione clenched her jaw, scowling. The level of sarcasm and brattiness had Hermione thanking the stars she’d been an only child.

"Listen, you—weasel." Hermione quickly stood as he struggled to sit up again, "I don't know what you’re playing at, but jumping in the Black Lake in this time of year would’ve gotten you killed. You're lucky I was here to get you out before you became a permanent iceberg for the Giant Squid to play with!"

"And so you’re the good witch who rescued me, then?" he hissed, not bothering to move the lops of hair still stuck to his face. "Did it occur to you, beneath that bird's nest on your head, that maybe I didn’t want to be saved?"

"All the more reason to stop you," Hermione sniffed. Absolutely unbelievable. Never in a century did she think someone would reprimand her for rescuing them from drowning.

He finally managed a sitting position and moved the hair from his face, giving her a clear view of cool silvery eyes piercing hers.

Shock rocketed through her. Hermione’s jaw dropped.

The fact that Regulus Black looked like a smaller version Sirius wasn't the end of it. He was sharper, paler; the cheekbones higher, smug smile curling wider, a stare fiercer than she’d ever seen. If Sirius were ever to be an angry, arrogant Slytherin, this was probably it.

She continued staring, speechless, as he finally stood unsteadily. The mocking expression was still clear as day. "Why don't you go back inside like a good little Gryffindor and forget you ever saw me." His eyes wandered over her. "I don't think you can handle me."

Before Hermione could react, he took a shuddering breath, whirled around, and ran for the Black Lake.

Hermione's eyes rounded and she jumped to her feet, grabbing him by the arm before he reached the edge of the water.

"Get off!" he growled, trying to throw her off him.

"I was wrong—you're not a weasel, you're suicidal!" Hermione screeched as she pulled him forcefully away from the lake. Thankfully this wasn't Sirius—if it had been, never in a million years would she be able to overpower him like she was with Regulus. Regulus was a bit shorter and easier to hold on to. He was still incredibly strong, though, and she knew her hold on him would only last a few more seconds.

"You don't know what you're doing—let me go!"

"No!" Hermione struggled to keep her grip as he thrashed. "Not until you stop trying to kill yourself!"

"Are you crazy?" he yelled in exasperation.

Finally he freed himself from her grip and wriggled violently from her, causing her to stagger backwards unsteadily. He reflexively went to catch her but was dragged along in her fall, and he landed on his knees roughly and Hermione groaned, her back hitting the ground.

"You," his eyes flashed as he knelt over her, "will regret getting in my way."

A glowing light came from his chest, the necklace behind his robes emitting a red glow. He followed her gaze and his expression changed, panic settling over his features.

His gaze caught hers threateningly. "Don't—"

"What the devil is going on here?"

Professor Flitwick was hobbling towards them at breakneck speed. Hermione tried sitting up but Regulus's hand clamped on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground so she couldn't move.

"She just fell, sir," said Regulus, concern layered thickly his voice. "And she wasn't breathing. I was so worried…"

"Clever of you to send up the sparks; couldn't miss it even if I wanted to!" Flitwick squeaked and peered over Hermione curiously.

Hermione gaped. That snarky bastard was turning this around on her!

"Miss Granger?" Flitwick looked over her with concern.

"Yes, professor," said Hermione evenly. She shoved Regulus's hand from her shoulder and stood up. "As you can see, I am quite alright."

"Don't believe a word she says," Regulus insisted. "Wasn't even breathing a few seconds ago—had to do an Efflo spell on her to get her to start again—and that was when I sent up the sparks right when she started."

Right. The Efflo spell for resuscitation. Hermione reflexively scrubbed her mouth with the back of her hand.

Hermione’s irritation increased when Flitwick nodded gravely at Regulus. Hermione almost regretted rescuing the wart at all. “Actually,” Hermione started. Regulus shot a look, eyes wide. It was the look; the don’t-get-me-in-trouble-we’re-both-students look. She didn’t know why she did it, but she did—Hermione cleared her throat and muttered, “Nothing.”

Flitwick sighed exasperatedly. "Well, don't just stand there, take the girl to the infirmary!"

Regulus started and helped Hermione to her feet. Flitwick narrowed his eyes at Regulus and added, "And do give a better story to Madam Pomfrey as to how Miss Granger fell, given the state of dress." His little eyes stared pointedly at their dripping robes. Hermione shot Regulus a glare; Regulus stared back at Flitwick with a wincing smile.

Gritting her teeth, she walked with Regulus to the castle and stared at the hand on her elbow, burning holes in it with every step they took as Regulus took her to the Hospital Wing.

"You owe me," Hermione hissed under her breath.

Regulus didn’t so much as glance at her. "Do I?"

Hermione stared at him narrowly. “You owe me.”

Regulus regarded her for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

Hermione should’ve maybe let it go at that, but she couldn’t stop there. “And since I both stopped you from nearly killing yourself and covered for you to a professor by making myself look like a complete dimwit, I want to know why someone so your age is doing something so dangerous.”

Regulus frowned down at her. "I don’t have to do any of that. I’m just a year below you, you know."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Was he really? To be honest, she didn’t know much about Sirius’s family. She knew he’d had a brother who’d been a Death Eater but later changed his mind. And from what little Dumbledore mentioned about Regulus, he had even managed to steal one of Voldemort's horcruxes.

"You seem younger," said Hermione, eyeing him skeptically. “And how do you know what year I am?”

Regulus smirked, giving her a pointed look. "Everyone knows who Hermione Granger is.”

Hermione looked away, slightly troubled. “Point taken.”

What good was her time here in the 70s everyone in school knew who she was? This same thing had happened with Lily when they'd first met. She had been discussing Hermione on the train to Hogwarts with Severus, as if she had heard about her and that there would be a transfer student coming to Hogwarts this year.

Did everybody know about her? Did everybody know about what had 'happened' to her family?

If that was true, why was Lily so surprised when she'd found out that Hermione was now living with the Potters? She didn’t think James would’ve been reticent about it…but maybe he had some tact, after all.

Wrapped in her own gloomy thoughts, she stumbled when Regulus suddenly stopped. She blinked in confusion when she noticed they weren’t at the infirmary.

"What's wrong?"

A smile spread on Regulus’s face, and he spun around. "Hello, brother.”

Hermione turned around and found Sirius standing a few feet away. He’d probably just finished dinner and was heading early to the common room.

Sirius was silent as he eyed the two of them, and their slightly-dried robes.

"What did you do?"

"He didn't do anything, Sirius," Hermione crossed her arms. "Other than being an idiot, that is.”

"That's not news," Sirius replied, taking a step toward them. His eyes narrowed at Regulus’s hand on Hermione's elbow. Hermione wriggled from his grasp and stepped back, watching the tension crackle between them. She didn’t want any part of it, frankly.

Hermione sighed. "You can stop glaring because he didn't do anything to me. If anything, I saved this moron's life—"

"You did not—" Regulus started hotly.

"—and,” Hermione ignored Regulus, “I’d appreciate if we minded our own business.”

The commanding tone was not a new one for Hermione, and she was not in the mood to see curses and jinxes being thrown around. She grasped Regulus’s shoulder, pulling him away as Sirius continued to stare him down.

Regulus threw back, "Goodnight, brother! Mummy says hi!"

Hermione nearly gaped at Regulus. “Oh, well done,” she said sharply.

But Sirius was unperturbed. Instead, he smiled. "That’s right, Reggie. You seem to have forgotten your leash at home."

Regulus's expression went cold. Sirius's smile lingered as he turned around began to walk away. Hermione was about to follow when she glanced back at Regulus, who seemed to be fighting the urge to hurl a jinx at the back of Sirius's head.

Making her decision, she glanced at Sirius once last time before spinning around and fixing Regulus with her gaze.

"And you," said Hermione, unimpressed. "I obviously do not need to go to the Hospital Wing, but that shouldn't stop you from going. You really should have Madam Pomfrey check you."

The angry radiating from Regulus faded as Hermione’s words registered. His expression soured. "Why are you still here?"

"Because clearly there’s something unusual happening in your head and it should be checked with medical and—dare I say—magical attention."

Regulus barely listened to her, sighing quietly with obvious boredom. "Listen, Granger. I don't really care what you think. I could live a long life without your opinion. Now today, you ruined a very important test for me, and—"

"Is that what you were doing?" Hermione’s eyebrow rose. "Testing something? Was it the necklace that was glowing?" Her eyes wandered down his chest where the necklace was concealed, but he roughly turned her around and began pushing her in the direction of the grand staircase.

"How’s this. I ignore you, you ignore me, and we go back to never caring the other existed. Yeah?"

Hermione pushed him off with a glare. "Fine. I know what you're getting at." She looked at him seriously. "I’ll pretend this never happened." Regulus smiled winningly, but she continued, "That doesn't mean that this is over."

"Sorry, Granger, not on the market." Regulus gave a parting smirk, then headed to the dungeons.

Oh yes, he was definitely related to Sirius.

"Seems you've already got my brother wrapped around your tiny little stubby fingers. I wouldn’t worry too much.” said Regulus over his shoulder.

Hermione scowled deeply. That little worm...

"What was that, Regulus?" she shot back loudly, her voice echoing against the walls. "You tried drowning yourself in the lake while trying to test a top secret necklace—"

Regulus stopped dead. He turned, glaring, and Hermione smiled. Slowly, Regulus stalked toward her—Hermione began to grow nervous at its predatory demeanor, her right hand moving to grip her concealed wand.

Regulus stopped centimeters from her and dropped his voice. "The great thing about this necklace is that I didn't drown, nor did I intend to. And while you pulled me out assuming I was off to white lights and harpsichords, I knew exactly what was happening around me—from when I stepped in the water to when Flitwick found us."

Hermione’s brows furrowed. What did he mean by that? His mind was conscious even though he was not breathing or moving? Did he mean…

Her eyes widened and Regulus tilted his head condescendingly. "I must say, I've had better."

Hermione's insides went cold. "That wasn't a kiss," she said angrily. "And you know why I did that."

"Funny you wouldn't use magic," he said innocently.

"I couldn't—everything was happening fast, I couldn't remember the spell—" she stammered.

"Strange to forget a spell you learn in your first year," he observed, taunting. Hermione had had enough.

"I don't care," she replied coolly. "I have nothing to hide. And are you really trying to use CPR against me?”

He shrugged. "I don't need to use anything against anyone, Granger. Just stating facts."

As he turned to leave, Hermione said, "Then allow me to tell you another. Dark magic is forbidden here. And believe me, I know dark magic when I see it. Especially when it's hanging from your neck." Regulus stared at her coldly, but Hermione shook her head. “I’d be careful, Regulus Black.”

For a moment she thought he would turn his piercing glare into something more, but was instead a little taken aback when he smiled, the same cheery smile he'd given Sirius a few moments earlier. "You've made the wrong enemy, Granger. I'll see you around."

When he finally left, the only thought running through her mind was, bollocks.

Hermione groaned, wanting to smack her head against the stone wall. What was she thinking? Why did she have to keep meddling? Why did she forget her place in this time period and pursue a pointless argument?

Hermione walked up the grand staircase contemplatively and her feet took her to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Mumbling the password, the portrait swung open and she climbed inside. Seeing the plush armchairs, combined with feeling the sleepy warmth of the fireplace, her tiredness caught up with her. She was looking forward to a nice, long bath; long enough to rid the smell of lake water from her body, and the sour taste of bad decisions.

The girls’ dormitory was quiet and empty. Dinner had probably not ended yet, giving Hermione an opportunity of solitude. Briefly she wondered where Lily was, she’d left the Great Hall earlier than everyone else, hadn’t she?

Hermione made quick work of her clothes and running the bath, sinking into the warm water. She ducked her head underneath and began scrubbing her hair.

Eventually Hermione started staring listlessly at the tiled wall. She could already see where this evening would go; the Gryffindors would return from dinner, and the girls’ dormitory would be too distracting for her to sleep. She’d made no attempt at befriending anyone else, really, so the girls kept their distance. Sometimes it felt lonely. Hermione kept reminding herself it was probably better this way.

Right, the girls would come up. Then Sirius would make an appearance, confronting her for getting caught with his brother. She’d lie. It was an endless dance of half-truths and dodging suspicion, and for whatever reason, Hermione was constantly under scrutiny by her peers. It was tiring. She could only hope the next two years would be different.

But she had a horcrux now. She was making progress, small as it was. All she had to do was figure out how to destroy them, find the other horcruxes, and…and the rest would be determined later.

When she started to grow drowsy she stepped out of the tub and dried herself, shrugging on a bath robe and retreating to her bed. Some girls had come back from the dinner, just as she thought, and were chatting amiably with their friends, already dressed in their night clothes.

Three beds down, Lily now sat cross-legged with a book in her lap. At Hermione's appearance, she glanced up and smiled, and Hermione walked over to her bed and sat down.

"I was just wondering where you were,” said Hermione.

"Yeah, after I left the Great Hall I just went straight to library," Lily admitted, tossing her fiery hair aside from her shoulder with a shrug. "An evening with Potter always sets my teeth on edge; only the solace of parchment relieves the tension."

Hermione nodded in understanding and sighed. "He adores you, you know."

"Oh I know," Lily said dryly, closing the book and setting it aside. "That doesn't mean I like acknowledging it as much as he does."

They laughed and Lily leaned against her pillows, stretching. "So how long have you been staying with Potter, again?"

"Just two days. I arrived at the end of August." Lily nodded, and Hermione watched her curiously. "I assumed everyone knew. I would've told you if I thought it was, you know…important." Hermione smiled genuinely, "I mean, you are the first friend I made here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, I suppose I am," Lily agreed softly.

Silence ensued between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, they were both just lost in their own thoughts.

"Nobody knows, by the way," Lily suddenly said, and Hermione blinked slowly.

"What?"

"About you living with James. You said you assumed everybody knew where you were living now, but in truth it's been a mystery. I never would have guessed you were living with the Potters."

Hermione frowned. "But then how did everyone know about me when I came here? You said yourself people have been talking about me on the train and everything."

Lily looked at her in disbelief. "Hermione…you parents were killed by Voldemort's followers and you managed to come out of that house alive. You were front page news. Everyone knows who you are." When Hermione remained silent, Lily added, "Nobody knows where you live because exposing that would only lead the Death Eaters back to you. It was for your own protection, you know."

"Yes," Hermione replied. In reality, it never occurred to her that anybody would care about her life, even though she hadn't actually lived it.

Was it not ironic? How everyone knew who she was, even though she did not have a clue as to what had happened in this new history? How she had managed to escape Voldemort's wrath incurred on her family, how her parents had been killed?

All she could see in her head was Harry's face.

Lily looked at her warily. "Hermione?"

Hermione looked up into Lily's eyes and wished she hadn't. She always heard adults telling Harry that he had his mother's eyes…and they were not lying. Seeing them now made it just that much harder.

"I'm sorry, Lily.” The admission came without Hermione intending for it.

 Lily frowned and sat up quickly. "Don't be sorry," said Lily, stricken. "I didn't mean to upset you. And definitely didn’t want to bring up bad memories. I have a notorious foot-in-mouth syndrome.”

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose and closed her eyes, chasing the sad thoughts of her previous life away. When she reopened them, she smiled reassuringly. "I'm not upset. Just…processing. You know?"

Lily nodded and looked at her hands. “Wanna hear something?”

“Please.”

Lily straightened, smiling brilliantly. "Severus and I are going to Hogsmeade together."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Lily nodded serenely. "That's why he's been acting so strange lately. Or at least, that's what I’ve vainly concluded."

Hermione had to blink a few times to register the words. "So," Hermione began, "you two are…?"

"Nothing like that," Lily said quickly, a blush forming on her cheeks. "…Not yet anyway. He's been trying to ask me for a month now, did you know? Poor bloke nearly gave himself a stroke just asking!"

"What happened?"

Lily gave a small, devious smile. "Well, it sort of started a few weeks ago when we were walking out of Defense, and we were talking about Patronuses, and I said offhandedly that my Patronus would probably be panther."

It was probably the most random thing she had ever heard, and no matter how hard she tried to make the correlation from a panther to Lily and Severus, she saw a blank. "Er…"

Lily shrugged a little. "Panthers are Severus's favorite animal. It's kind of his thing. That's why you never see him in any other color than black."

Realization dawned on her and Hermione understood the meaning behind Lily's comment to Severus. Patronuses were embodiments of a person and their personality, and also taking form of what brings them the most joy. And for Lily to say that her Patronus would be Severus's favorite animal…she no longer doubted that Severus had nearly given himself a stroke trying to ask Lily to Hogsmeade…

"I don't know why he made such a big deal about this Hogsmeade thing, though," Lily said with some irritation. "I mean, we go together every year, anyway. He didn't need to be all formal."

Hermione gave a small smile. "Lily, he wanted to be formal. For you."

Lily opened her mouth to respond but never found the voice for it. Instead she looked at her lap, blood pooling in her face once more.

"I don't know…" she said softly.

"What is it?"

Lily looked up Hermione in confusion. "Is it weird? I love Severus with all my heart. And…I think I might even like him, but…"

Hermione felt a stab of pain in her heart as she waited patiently for Lily to continue. Lily sighed and shook her head, looking lost. "But I just don't know. I feel like…like…"

When she didn’t finish, Hermione gently patted Lily’s shoulder. "You're only in your fifth year, Lily," she said. "You have two more years to worry about silly things like boys."

Lily smiled slowly and laughed, then wound her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You are very right, my dear. And who knows? Maybe I'll find some handsome, billionaire Quidditch player to marry!"

Hermione snorted and Lily grinned widely, and Hermione fought down the sudden urge to say, you have no idea.

When Hermione got dressed for bed Lily wished her goodnight. Just as she was about to slink off to her own four-poster bed, Hermione paused.

"Hey Lily?"

"Yes?"

"Did…did Sirius ask for me?"

Lily frowned. "No…why, should he have?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. Lily narrowed her eyes and Hermione waved it off. "It was silly to ask. Good night."

One by one the girls grew silent, and as the seconds passed into minutes, the entire dorm was filled with even breathing and light snores. Hermione breathed in deeply, and once she was sure everyone was asleep, her feet slipped out of the bed and landed softly on the floor.

She knelt by the trunk under her bed and carefully opened it.

Hermione sighed. The horcrux was still there.

She knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t help it. It had taken so long for her to get the horcrux and she needed it to stay put. Not that anyone would be able to get through all her concealment spells, but…it was the possibility of chance that kept her nervous. But the diadem was still there. Everything was okay.

Her fingers brushed against the metal and she hissed, moving her hand away. Why was it always so warm?

Tiredly, Hermione crawled back atop her bed and glanced out the window. From here she could see the Black Lake glittering against the midnight sky, tall evergreens obscured in shadows and wind. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see Harry again: standing on the opposite end of the lake and casting a blinding patronus. It had been only two years ago. It felt so long ago now.

Now, her latest experience at the Black Lake involved Sirius’s insufferable younger sibling with a maybe-death wish.

Merlin, she was entirely unprepared for being here. Every day something new was cast at her, and Hermione didn’t know if any of her choices were right. She was constantly second-guessing herself and being constantly on edge was exhausting.

Frankly, what she needed to do was stop thinking about it. It was one thing to be careful in the past, but her case was entirely different. There was no going back. She was in the past forever—she may as well make a home of it. Not every decision had to be life or death.

Hermione shook her head. She couldn’t go that far yet. First, the horcrux.

Tiredness still pressed behind her eyes but she was wired and worried now, and the trunk under her bed wouldn’t stop thrumming. Making up her mind, Hermione slipped off the bed again and pulled the diadem out of the trunk. Making sure the other girls were still sleeping, Hermione left the room.

She carefully closed the door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs into the common room. The diadem was concealed under the robe she’d hastily thrown on, warm against her nightgown. The common room was predictably empty with only moonbeams dimly illuminating the room. Quietly, Hermione lit one of the oil lamps and took out the diadem.

Destroying a shard of soul was complicated. Did it need intent? An intent of murder? Surely not. Hermione didn’t know where to begin. But she had to begin somewhere. Silently, she took out her wand.

She saw herself doing the spells; setting it on fire, blasting it into the wall, breaking it with force, all the while the horcrux whispered, laughing. Sometimes it sounded angry. Mostly, it was watching.

But she didn’t do any of that that all. Hermione blinked. The lamp light had long burned out. She was sitting at the common room table, wand in her hand, and the diadem sitting before her. No spells had happened. The diadem was silent. It was now quarter to five.

Blinking rapidly, Hermione stood and sent her chair skidding. The diadem did nothing. Moonlight from the fogged windows reflected on its glittering gems, feeling warm even though Hermione wasn’t near it. Fear coiling in her stomach, Hermione snatched the diadem and ran back to the girls’ dormitory.

No more handling a horcrux until I actually know how to destroy it, Hermione said to herself once the diadem was concealed and she was in her bed again. She stared at ceiling, holding the blankets tightly to her chin. She couldn’t shake the anxiety, nor the feeling of being watched.

xxx

"You could look a bit more excited.”

"It's just Hogsmeade.”

"Just Hogsmeade!" Lily looked at Hermione with disbelief. "Merlin’s beard, Hermione, you act like you've been there before."

"Obviously not," Hermione lied as she wrapped a scarf around her neck. The first day of October proved to be an even colder one, and it happened to land on the first Hogsmeade weekend. She was not particularly looking forward to it. This would be the first Hogsmeade trip without Harry or Ron. Or Ginny, or Neville, or Luna…

Lily suddenly steered her toward the Great Hall. Grabbing a basket of scones and clotted cream, she tossed one to Hermione and dragged her outside to the Entrance Hall.

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked with surprise.

"Curious now, are we?" Lily took a liberal bit out of her scone. "If you want to get the best stuff before the crowds get in, you have to leave early."

Hermione glanced where Professor McGonagall stood a few feet away with permission forms tucked under her arm.

"You do have permission form, right?" Lily asked warily.

"Er…"

Lily’s eyes widened and she stopped walking. "The Potters signed a Hogsmeade permission form, right?"

In all honesty, Hermione had no idea. They probably did, but she was not one hundred percent certain. "I'll go ask," said Hermione, and walked over to McGonagall.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall acknowledged. "I presume you're wondering if you have a signed permission form or not?"

"Er, yes, actually.”

"Well, don't look so worried; Mrs. Potter sent the owl already."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, professor." Hermione sighed and turned back to where Lily was waiting for her. "I’m cleared.”

Lily clicked her tongue. "Not just yet."

Linking her arm with Hermione's, she led them toward a corridor and entered the dungeons. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Are we getting…?"

"Of course." Lily grinned a bit. "He tends to sleep in.”

Walking deeper and deeper down the steering halls, Lily stopped in front of a wall and gazed at it with a sigh. Then, at the top of her lungs:

"SEV!"

Hermione flinched away with a grimace.

 "SEV-ER-US!" Lily’s voice rang brilliantly, and finally after a few moments the wall transfigured into a passageway and out came, none-too-pleased Severus Snape.

"Do you have to do that every bloody time?" Severus snapped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His tie was crooked and his robes were falling off his shoulders, hastily dressed.

"Are you really surprised, though?" Lily asked, handing him the basket. Severus rolled his eyes.

Hermione felt slightly awkward, as she tended to when she was around Lily and Severus. She felt like she was invading in a part of their lives that she had no right to see. More than anything, she hated being in the presence of a pair that she knew one would have an unhappy ending.

"Oh hello, Hermione," Severus said mildly, finally noticing her standing there. "Are you joining us?”

"No," Hermione said quickly. She didn't miss the flash of relief on Severus's face. Hermione did not want to impinge on the one day Severus had been looking forward to. "I'll be going off on my own. I'd like to explore it thoroughly. At my own pace."

Lily protested at first, and Severus had kindly offered to show her around, but Hermione was firm. In truth, she wouldn’t mind some time by herself. Distraction in the form of magic shops and sticky toffee pudding would be a welcome reprieve.

Hermione started at Zonko's first, then to the Three Broomsticks where she had a soothing cup of butterbeer that warmed her frozen hands and insides. By the time she left the Three Broomsticks, though, Hogsmeade had filled up considerably. Hermione felt a pang in her heart as she remembered doing the same with Harry and Ron so many times.

She tried remembering what was the last thing they’d done in Hogsmeade, what they’d talked about. Nothing came to mind. Nothing solid. She couldn’t even remember which shops she, Harry, and Ron had gone to. She’d never considered at the time that it would be the last. Why would she? The ache in her chest deepened.

"Hermione!" a voice called from behind.

She turned to find Peter striding toward her, followed closely by Remus. Hermione smiled thinly in greeting. "Are you by yourself?"

“Er…”

“You should join us,” said Peter, his voice brooking no argument.

"I, I really couldn't—" Hermione began.

"Oh, you really could," Remus smirked, and gently pressed on her back to usher her with them.

"Zonko's is pretty good, but if this is your first time you have to try the butterbeer at Three Broomsticks," Peter explained. Hermione didn’t get the chance to tell him that she’d already done so, because in the next moment he called, "Ah, there’s Sirius. Oi!"

Sirius came in sight, cheeks slightly reddened from the cold with his nose buried in his thick scarf. At Peter's call Sirius's head snapped up and he grinned, quickening his stride.

"Wotcher," said Sirius. His eyes flickered over Hermione. “Did you get here early?”

“I did,” said Hermione.

“What d’you think of it here so far?”

Hermione fought off her surprise—she’d expected at least a little surliness on his end from the Regulus encounter yesterday, but only genuine interest reflected back at her. Smiling a little, Hermione replied, “Very good. I liked the pub.”

“Right? Their meat pies are...” he got distracted by a man walking by in a bright yellow bowler hat, then shook his head. “Where’s James, by the way?”

"In the Quidditch shop last I saw," said Remus.

“Wicked. Wanna go? Could use a new tin of broom polish myself.”

They started toward the shop but Hermione hung back, watching them go. She didn’t think she could really handle the Quidditch shop just yet. Her heart felt hollow and Hermione had to blink rapidly to keep composed. She missed Harry and Ron so much.

“Are you coming?”

Remus was still there, waiting for her. Hermione shook her head.

“I think I’ll head back to the castle.”

Remus nodded, glancing away for a moment. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Oh,” Hermione started to protest, “you really don’t need to.”

“Yes,” said Remus, pointedly. “I really do.”

Understanding filled her. Nodding, Hermione started walking back to the castle, Remus falling in step with her. The walk was quiet for the most part. Remus kept his gaze ahead, hands stuffed in his pockets as he admired the grounds. She wasn’t sure if he sensed she wanted it this way, but Hermione was grateful for it regardless.

When they reached the Entrance Hall, Remus asked, “Are you headed up to the common room?”

Hermione thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. I might just walk around a bit?”

“Anywhere in particular?”

Hermione started smiling.

She led him up the stairs and across corridors until Hermione stopped in front of a familiar stretch of wall. She’d had every intent of letting Remus set the room, let him explore it on his own, but the moment the wall faced her, Hermione’s thoughts took reign. She thought of home, of Harry and Ron and her life before. She missed them so much, so much, and she’d give anything to see them again; if only to say goodbye.

Slowly, a door began to form.

It was earthy and familiar and her hand reached for the doorknob without thinking. She took a step in and her breath caught.

It was the Weasley's living room.

Her lower lip trembled as she walked inside. It was exactly how she remembered, down to every photograph to the grandfather clock. She lowered herself onto the couch and took a ragged breath. She glanced at the coffee table; ring stains covered the worn wood, ash marks of spells gone awry with haphazardly stacked papers from Mr. Weasley’s work. Off to the side was a photograph of all the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione at the last Christmas break, taken just a few months ago.

She didn’t know when she started crying, but wet droplets were splattering on her hands and all hope of self-control was lost. Everything she'd been holding inside finally burst, spilling from her until she was left feeling raw. She’d been keeping it in for so long, had not spilled tears since the day she used the Time-Turner to land her here. She cried for the friends she once knew, and would not be friends with the same way ever again. She cried for losing her parents, whom she never got to say goodbye too and only saw a few weeks each year. She cried for losing everything, finally being selfish enough to mourn the losses with the task Dumbledore sentenced her to.

When she finally calmed down, her eyes felt swollen and realized Remus had, at some point, sat next to her and was patting her shoulder.

"Is this your home?" Remus finally asked, tentatively.

Hermione sniffled. "No, it's my best friend's home. Was my best friend's home."

He paused again. "And that picture…those were you friends?"

"Yeah.”

A long pause followed.

"Hermione," Remus said slowly, "why am I in this picture?"

Chapter 6: The Letter

Chapter  6

The Letter

Hermione went still.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the rectangular picture frame in his hands. It was the one she saw earlier, with her, Harry, Ron…and apparently, Remus as well.

Her eyes slid to Remus's face. He looked perplexed as he squinted at the photograph. Merlin, she was an idiot. Why hadn't she remembered? She knew exactly the day, when the four of them smiled at the camera knowing that the cheerful moment was only temporary. She'd known he was there.

Her throat went dry. "I…I'm not sure," she said unevenly. "I don't really recognize that picture."

Her mind began working again, and when it did it was racing. Room of Requirement. Fit to one's needs. Requirement. Change. "It…it was probably the room. You were comforting me, and it probably just added you with my friends."

Remus stared at her for a long moment, then back at the picture. Slowly he set it back at the table, his eyes still frozen on it. "The room can do that?"

Hermione suppressed a shaky breath. "I guess it can."

He paused for a moment. "I look older."

Hermione bit her lip, cursing the Room for being so precise in its detail of Ron's living room. She attempted a small smile. "You always come off older than you look, Remus. The Room must've sensed that too."

His nodded unsurely, still visibly perturbed. Hermione had to think fast. Leaning over, she grasped the frame and stared at it, concentrating and praying that this would work.

The picture began transforming as she imagined something new. Remus watched quietly, and his eyes widened as the picture in the frame began changing. Smiling in satisfaction, Hermione handed him the picture. His eyes widened and he let out a small laugh.

On the frame was Dumbledore dressed in a very exquisitely decorated dress robe, with ruffles and sequin in a shocking pink color. "Right. Very cool." Remus smiled and then set the frame back on the table.

Hermione sighed inwardly in relief.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Remus broke her from her thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"Just," Remus shrugged a little, "you seemed a bit down earlier. At Hogsmeade. If you'd like to talk about it, I'm told I'm a good listener."

The no was on the tip of her tongue, but something made her stop. It felt nice, someone asking how she was doing. But what could she even tell him? "I wouldn't know where to start," Hermione said honestly.

"Anywhere," he shrugged again, leaning back against the couch. "Or nowhere. It's up to you."

Hermione bit her lip. She was still feeling raw after her weep, and the opportunity to finally talk to someone about her feelings was too good to ignore. She collected her thoughts, sifting through what she could actually say.

In the end, she went with (mostly) the truth.

"It's been hard adjusting," Hermione started. "It feels like living a new reality. And I'm grateful. For being alive, for finishing school at Hogwarts, for the kindness you and others have shown me. But I don't feel genuine. I feel like I'm pretending."

Remus frowned. "How?"

"I'm not…" Hermione shook her head. "I miss my family. I miss my friends. Everything I loved before is gone and I have to accept it. I'm trying my best—I really am—but it's so hard, Remus. And I know you don't understand; I don't want you to understand. Because feeling this way is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. I feel alone, mostly. And a little sad. But then I feel like I'm not allowed to be, and it makes me feel guilty."

"Who said you're not allowed to be? That's complete rubbish." Remus's frowned deepened, staring at her with concern.

Because I chose this. Hermione's mind couldn't cede to that, though. Had she really chosen it? Or had Dumbledore cornered her and forced the choice on her? In any case she was stuck, and she would do what she'd come here for, but the longer she'd stayed her the more she understood the permanence here. She was lost in the past forever.

"It's just the sense I get, being here." Hermione gazed at her hands, and felt Remus's stare.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. You shouldn't have to feel this way." Remus's voice was soft, and kind. "I can't help with most of those things, but I hope you see me as a friend now. You don't have to feel so alone."

Hermione looked up at Remus and found only genuine honesty in his expression. Hermione smiled. "Thank you. It means a lot more than you know."

Remus smiled back. Any further discussion was interrupted by Hermione's stomach rumbling. Hermione smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry."

Remus' smile widened. "Do you want to start lunch?"

"God, yes."

They walked back to the Great Hall where lunch had already been set up. Hermione sat down quickly and immediately started piling her plate with sandwiches. Remus followed suit, and within ten minutes they were plating seconds.

Remus drank deeply from his goblet and sighed, then stretched out lazily in his seat. Hermione watched him yawn a bit, then run a hand through his sandy hair and shake away his tiredness.

She didn't even know when she started smiling until Remus called her out on it. "What?"

"Nothing." Hermione shrugged a bit. "Just, you're so young."

He chuckled lightly. "What am I supposed to look like?"

"Young," Hermione laughed. "Just ignore me. I'm not making any sense."

Shaking his head, Remus took another swig from his goblet. Hermione wondered if Remus ever could imagine his life twenty years from now. How his boyish looks would fade much faster than normal, how the hardships in his life would force him to grow up quickly. She wondered if being his friend would ease some of that. Hermione held a snort. As if one person could make that much of a difference.

Regardless, Hermione was glad that she could be Remus Lupin's friend this way too. It was...nice.

"Contrary to popular belief," said Remus, "I'm not as serious as you'd think. I'm just not very loud about it."

Hermione raised a brow. "Are you saying you're a rebel?"

He gave a secretive smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione hid a smile. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hermione spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You and Lily are close, right?"

"Yep."

"Does she…know?"

The smile on Remus's face faltered. "No." At her questioning look, Remus elaborated, "It's not something I tell people. At all."

"But…James and Sirius and—"

"I never told them," said Remus bluntly. "The only people who'd known were Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff. James, Sirius, and Peter figured it out all on their own. I suppose anyone even slightly observant would cotton on that disappeared every full moon."

Hermione nodded in agreement. After all, that was exactly what she'd done in her third year when Lupin was her professor.

"I understand," said Hermione.

"Yes," said Remus, "I suppose you do." He ducked his eyes briefly. "I never thought someone other than my mates would accept me like you have. Did you…did you know someone else with my condition?"

Hermione smiled softly. "I did. He was so brilliant. I was lucky to know him."

Remus's eyes rounded in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

Remus reflected on this, picking at the bits of food on his plate. Hermione added, "Even if I didn't know someone, my feelings would be the same. The fact that people with your condition are treated so poorly just—" Hermione clenched her jaw, shaking her head. "It makes me angry. You don't deserve it."

"Not everyone is like me," said Remus lowly. "Not everyone is kind."

"Neither are we," Hermione countered.

His lips twitched. "Touché."

Remus slowly began eating again, and soon the pair were both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione looked up when she heard sudden laughter enter the Great Hall.

Regulus strode in with his Slytherin friends, snickering with them. Feeling Hermione's stare, his eyes caught hers. For a moment, his grin froze in place. Hermione tilted her head.

Regulus blinked and turned around, deciding the best action was to ignore her.

"Remus," Hermione asked suddenly. "Can you tell me more about Sirius's brother?"

Remus blinked and then followed Hermione's gaze to where Regulus was. He raised a brow. "I'm not sure I'm the best to ask. I don't know very much." When Hermione continued to stare at him expectantly, Remus relented. "They've been tense around each other since Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. Sirius thinks he's become a traditional Black family clone, mindlessly following their ancestors' path. I think he's being a tad dramatic about it, if you ask me. Then again, I don't even know the full story."

Hermione frowned. It was odd that Sirius would keep his private life so tightly concealed, even with his best friends. She watched the boys at the Slytherin table thoughtfully. Regulus did not seem the type to follow orders, not really. But it was undeniable that Regulus was interested in the dark magic, given the necklace incident.

She glanced at Regulus one last time before turning to Remus. "I think I'll head to the library."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's alright. Thank you for spending the day with me; it means more than you know."

Hermione left the Great Hall quickly, striding down the long stretches of corridors. It was cold and drafty but she barely noticed it. There was too much on her mind.

A much younger Madam Prince glanced at her warily as she stepped into the library. Spotting Regulus in the Great Hall was a wake-up call for her. She had to mentally shake herself to get her mind back on track, for while she may be stuck spending the rest of her life in this era, it did not mean that Hermione should get lost into the drama and forget why she even used the damned red-sanded Time-Turner a few months ago.

…A few months ago?

The realization struck her hard, and she mentally berated herself for getting so caught up in…well, everything. But what the hell was she supposed to do? Yes, she found one of Voldemort's horcruxes, but she had no means of destroying it yet. There were still six others out there, and that was only if Voldemort had actually made them all yet. But it would be wiser to begin searching and destroying now. It was the most effective move she could play, though not an easy one.

There was also her plans of being an Animagus. It would be extremely useful, especially if she was in a bad situation and needed a quick escape. If she remembered well, the way Sirius had escaped when imprisoned in Azkaban was transforming into a black dog and slipping through the bars.

She really needed to read about horcruxes, and if even Tom bloody Riddle had some difficulty researching it thirty years ago, she doubted it would be any easier right now. She sighed and leaned against a book shelf. She would need to go to the restricted section, if anything. She supposed a Disillusionment charm would suffice, but it was times like these that she sorely wished she could use the invisibility cloak.

Blowing a wisp of hair out of her eyes, Hermione sighed and decided to research transfiguration instead, not wanting to return to the common room just yet. She searched the shelves, and books began steadily stacking in her arms until the last book created a wobbly tower that reached up to her nose. Struggling heavily, Hermione managed to reach a table in the corner of the library and dumped the old texts from her arms.

Rubbing her sore arms, Hermione at the tower of books. Taking a breath, she grasped one and began to read.

xxx

Remus was just about to walk up to the boys' dormitory when the common room's portrait hole swung open and students started pouring inside.

Lily was the first to come up to him. Her cheeks were tinged pink, undoubtedly from the frosty air outside. "Hello, Remus—is Hermione up?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I don't think so. She said she wanted to go to the library."

"Course she is. Ta, though." Lily squeezed through the throng of bodies and went to the portrait hole.

"Wheedled your way out of a day in Hogsmeade, Moony?" James smiled as he came up next to Remus.

He shrugged, walking over to a stuffed armchair and sinking down tiredly. "I didn't mind."

Sirius grinned. "'S too bad, mate. You missed an epic prank war."

"Oh, piss off," James snapped with surprising irritation. "Because of your little act we're thrown out from half of Hogsmeade's shops indefinitely."

"You're what?" Remus was perplexed.

Peter answered dryly, "Sirius decided it would be fun to turn the windows of each shop into fudge. We're not allowed in Madame Puddifoots, Zonko's, and Honeydukes for a very long time."

"I thought Zonko's of all places would've had a laugh," said James. "But I guess it went tits up when folks started eating the store…"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "If they can't have a laugh a bit of harmless magic, those shops aren't worth visitin anyway."

"What I still don't get is why you felt the need to turn the stores into an afternoon dessert." James crossed his arms.

Sirius looked up and glanced around, noticed all three of his friends staring at him expectantly. "Oh come off it," he laughed. "We're marauders, we do this all the time."

"The fudge is a bit damning," Peter admitted.

"He's got a point," said James.

"What does Remus think?" Sirius turned to Remus.

Remus glanced between Sirius and James. "Er. I don't know? Seems a bit reckless, though, Sirius, even for you."

"Yes but—fudge."

James sighed. "Thing is, mate, we're struggling to keep up with you. One minute you're fine and then next you're blowing steam at anything in your way. Did something happen?"

Sirius glanced between his friends incredulously. "Sorry, is this an intervention?" When no one replied, Sirius stared. "Seriously?"

A long, uncertain pause followed.

"To hell with you all," said Sirius quietly, and he strode out of the common room and ripped the portrait open and slammed it shut, causing the Fat Lady to let out a string of unladylike words.

James stood for a few more seconds after Sirius's exit, then finally lowered himself onto an armchair. "Shit," he murmured.

"No kidding," Peter said dully.

Remus turned his head towards James, who looked back at him incredulously. "I think that's the first time we've gotten in an argument since…shit, I can't even remember."

Remus nodded, but his mind was going in circles. Then something clicked.

Suddenly he stood, maneuvering towards the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" James called.

Remus turned around and shrugged lightly. "For a walk." Without another word, Remus stepped through the hole and swung the portrait open.

"Are you going to slam my frame too?" the Fat Lady said accusingly once he was out of the common room. Remus tilted his head and offered her a polite smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

xxx

Hermione was knee-deep in ancient text when a figure plopped down next to her.

Hermione groaned. "Don't you have anyone else to terrorize?"

Lily's bright green eyes glinted against the soft yellow glow of the candles flickering around the room. "Everyone else is far too boring," she replied with a devious smile. "Besides, I'd much rather spend my day in the library reading up on…" her head tilted to read the cover of one of the many books littered across the table, "…The Art of Shape-Shifting. I'm pretty sure McGonagall didn't assign us anything over our first Hogsmeade weekend."

"Just some light reading."

"Right." Lily sighed deeply. "I saw you left early. You didn't have fun at Hogsmeade?"

"I felt tired, to be honest. Remus walked me back though. We had lunch."

"Oooh," Lily's eyes lit up. "Good lunch?"

"Not like that," Hermione laughed. "Gods, no. We just had regular, boring lunch. But what of you, Evans? How was your day with Snape?"

Lily shrugged. "It was alright."

Hermione stared at her until she finally caved in.

"Oh alright! It was nice. I still don't see what all the fuss was about, we did exactly the same things we've done any other Hogsmeade trip." Lily huffed a little. "And Potter made an appearance, of course. Did you know Sirius hexed the shops?"

"What?"

Lily smiled at her aghast expression. "It was quite the spectacle. Turned the shops' windows into fudge. Or was it caramel?"

Hermione frowned. "That's…creative, I guess? But why?"

Lily shrugged. "No idea. But they all got in trouble. I think that was the first time I saw Potter seriously irritated. They're banned from most of the shops."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy.

Lily sighed dramatically. "Bloody boys. I say, off with their heads and more chocolate for us," she grinned, pulling Hermione to her feet and taking her away from the desk.

"Wait, I'm not finished," she protested, looking back forlornly at the pile of books.

"I don't really care," said Lily airily. "It's the weekend and I bought stuff from Hogsmeade that I'm quite sure I won't be able to finish all by myself."

Before they left the library Hermione quickly waved her wand towards the desk she was sitting on and the books rose in the air, flying to their respective bookshelves and tucking neatly onto the shelves.

xxx

The chill October air hit Remus icily, making him shiver and he crossed his arms across his chest. It had grown darker outside, and a few stars were already peeking out in the sky. He climbed up a few steps that led to the top of the Astronomy tower. He found exactly what he'd expected: Sirius leaning against a ledge, lost in thought.

Remus did not say anything as stopped next to Sirius. He leaned against the ledge, Sirius. Through the corner of his eye Remus saw him stiffen.

A puff of smoke passed through Sirius's lips, and Remus raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you start that?"

A smile twitched on Sirius's lips. "Since I started passing off as older than I look." He shook a square pack of cigarettes with a roguish grin. "Got this when I ditched my mum at that wizard convention over the summer. But I told you that already."

"You did," Remus agreed. "But I didn't think you'd actually start."

Sirius grunted. "I'm turning bloody sixteen in a few weeks anyway. Might as well try it instead of staring at the damn thing."

Sirius brought the cigarette to his lips again and Remus stared out the tower over to the Hogwarts grounds. He saw the Forbidden forest, the tops of the leaves rustling softly against a gust of wind. All the monsters and creatures and silent predators were carefully stowed inside the vast stretch of wood, and with a glint of irony Remus wondered if sooner or later he would be thrust in there as well.

Remus stared at his folded hands. "Hermione was asking about Regulus today," he said.

Sirius exhaled a puff of smoke."What did you say?"

Remus looked over at his friend and shrugged lightly. "What I always say. The question is, where does this involve you?"

A ragged breath escaped Sirius, and his posture deflated against the ledge. He flicked the cigarette down the tower and lowered his head, reaching into his robe pocket.

He held out a letter, and Remus grasped it lightly. Turning it over he saw the Black family crest sealed on the back, though it was already broken. Remus lifted the flap and took out the square of parchment inside.

Remus felt Sirius watching him as he read. Finally, Remus tucked the letter back inside the envelope and handed it back to Sirius.

"I see," said Remus quietly.

Sirius nodded, raking a hand tensely through his wavy locks. "I won't go," he said quietly. "I don't—and that little shit struts around here, knowing what's happening—"

"Sirius, he's still young, he's not like them yet," said Remus patiently.

"Like hell he's not!" snapped Sirius. "He's just like mummy dearest, always sticking his nose up in the air. And father just loves him, wishes he was first born—he can have the bloody spot. I want nothing to do with it."

"And you don't have to," said Remus firmly. Sirius glanced up at him, half with barely repressed frustration and half with hopeless desperation. "You decide how you live your life, Sirius."

A ghost of a smile hinted on Sirius's lips, his eyes staring far off in a distance. "I think someone said that to me before…" He sighed and stared out across the ledge again. Almost hesitantly, he spoke again. "I know…I know I haven't been the same lately. But at least now you must know why."

Remus nodded, but pinned him with a stern look. "I just don't understand why you kept this from me. From James and Peter. You know we don't keep secrets from each other."

Sirius smiled ironically. "Says the master of secrets himself." Remus glanced away and Sirius sighed. "I can't help it sometimes, mate. I can't force you three to keep me standing all the time. Sometimes…I have to deal with it on my own."

"Is that what you're going to do over the Christmas holidays?" asked Remus, his turning sad. "Deal with it on your own?"

Sirius stared at his friend for a long moment. Quietly, he replied, "I have no other choice."

Remus breathed in deeply, glancing away again. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, the weight of a ton of bricks resting on his shoulders, but he knew that it was nothing compared to the weight forced upon Sirius. Clearing his throat, he walked over and slung his arm around Sirius's shoulders. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, I'm pretty knackered," Sirius agreed, yawning wide. They walked down the tower in agreeable silence before Sirius broke it. "Did…did Hermione say anything else?"

Remus gave a sidelong look before shrugging. "Not much, just the usual. Why?"

"No reason," Sirius said quickly.

"Were you an arse again?"

"No," Sirius said pointedly.

After a moment, Remus said quietly, "She concerns me, Sirius."

Sirius frowned. "Why?"

Remus shook his head. "She's smart and genuine and funny and truly someone I'm happy to be friends with. But something is off, and it's not just with what happened to her over the summer. Something about her…I've never seen anyone so sad."

Sirius stared at Remus for a long moment. "Sometimes…I feel like I know her." He shook his head, chuckling. "It's mental. I think we're all going insane."

Remus thought back to the incident in the Room of Requirement that occurred earlier in the day, and he grew even more unsettled just thinking about it. He opened his mouth to speak when a distant shout made the pair jump.

"Get to bed already!" they heard Professor McGonagall bark, and they turned to see her striding across the hall.

"It's only eight o'clock," Sirius protested.

"I don't care, seeing the two of you at nighttime is never a good sign," said McGonagall sternly. She scrutinized the two boys before waving off her hand. "Off you go, now. Curfew is about to start and I don't want the other professors finding reason to deduct more house points than I already will."

The two boys blanched. "Why are you taking away points?" said Remus incredulously.

McGonagall stared at them, her eyes narrowing. "I was going to do this in the morning, but since you're already here I might as well start." She turned to Sirius, who shrank slightly under her intense gaze. "I received several distressed owls today from Hogsmeade village."

Sirius grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "About that…"

She raised a hand and silenced him. "I don't want to know. I told you in your third year that any misbehaviors in Hogsmeade would revoke your visiting privileges." Sirius's eyes widened instantly, his expression completely floored. "For now, you are banned from visiting until the spring, as well as serving detention with me up until, and on, Halloween."

McGonagall gave one last flinty look before moving past them. She stopped and looked back at Sirius, who was still frozen on the spot. "And forty points from Gryffindor for your misconduct…and for lack of creativity."

Both Remus and Sirius blanched, and McGonagall gave them a disappointed look. "Five years I've taught you, and the best transfiguration spell you thought of was that?" Shaking her head one last time, she turned and disappeared into the next corridor.

Sirius stood stunned, watching where McGonagall had been just moments before. Remus shook his head and patted his friend's shoulder. "Let it go, mate."

"Banned until spring…" he mumbled slowly as he started walking.

"Be happy she didn't say forever," Remus reminded. "It could've been worse."

Sirius gave a withering look and rolled his eyes. "Says the one who's never gotten a detention in his life."

Remus smiled good-naturedly and told him to get over it.

xxx

Hermione swatted a lingering fly from her ear and forced herself to pay attention to the Care of Magical Creatures lecture, but it was difficult. Her toes were already frozen from the crisp ground, and as much as Hermione hated to admit it, having to repeat her schooling was, for lack of better word, boring.

She had thought that perhaps there were some spells or enchantments they did not teach students in the nineties anymore, and while that was the case sometimes (especially in potions), most of the material was a line-for-line regurgitation of the lessons she'd already learned.

Her mind drifted to the upcoming holidays. It was already the end of October, tonight being Hallow's eve. Hermione had done quite a lot of research on Animagi and had finally started practicing, sneaking into the Room of Requirement again at the dead of night. It was incredibly difficult and Hermione realized quickly that it didn't matter how many books she read or how many theories she'd observed; being an Animagus was beyond anything she'd ever learned. Yes, she was proficient in nonverbal spells, but wandless magic, magic from within, was unheard of for her.

The horcrux under her bed was also keeping her up every night. She could feel it, like a second heartbeat in her chest, vibrating against her own soul like a parasite. It disturbed her, enough that she started avoiding her bed and started sleeping in the common room. She would pretend to study and have her books laid out each night, but would end up asleep on the sofas. She woke before the other students and managed to slip back upstairs just in time, but she would by lying to herself if she said that it wasn't taking a toll on her.

The sudden movement of the fifth years around her caused her to snap back into reality, and Hermione belatedly realized the lesson was over. Stretching her arms out, Hermione sighed and began retreating from the part of the forbidden forest that their lessons were held in.

She was far behind than the rest of the class, and even her professor had already hobbled away. She supposed that was one difference between her time and the current one; before, the students would be escorted together back to the castle grounds in fear of having one or two students wandering on their own in the forest.

She sighed. She'd been through these parts plenty of times with Harry and Ron, and she knew where the herd of centaurs lived—much deeper in the forest—so she did not feel particularly unsafe.

As her eyes wandered up the great trunks of the trees surrounding her, she heard a muffled sound near the left. Frowning, she slowed her pace.

Maybe a student got lost on their way back to the castle after class? Hermione began a hesitant walk toward the sounds. The voices grew louder but only by a fraction, and finally Hermione reached a small clearing where she saw figures huddled together.

Hermione froze.

"I don't see why that is a problem," she heard the voice of Severus say coolly.

"It just seems like a double standard," a boy, considerably taller than him who she identified as a Slytherin based on his robes, said with a sneer. "Claiming to agree with us, and yet your actions are far from promising."

"You don't know me at all," Severus hissed softly.

"We know what we see, and what we see is not encouraging."

She watched Severus take a step closer to the boy fearlessly, and tilted his head. "That spell that you're planning on using right now? The one that's become exceedingly popular over the years…what was it again…?"

A second later the boy was hanging upside down, as if being held by the ankle. Hermione recognized the spell as levicorpus, but was puzzled when she noted that she had not heard Severus utter it though his wand was firmly gripped in his hand.

The surrounding boys around the pair growled and stepped forward, but Snape merely raised his wand and had them all petrified within moments. Hermione's jaw dropped; what in Merlin's name was he doing?

"How did you know?" one of them said anxiously.

"You see, Avery," said Severus calmly, and Hermione widened her eyes as he began rolling his wand between his fingers, "the irony is that the very jinxes you adore to use, are the very same ones that I created."

"What?" Hermione breathed in consternation. Levicorpus…that spell was invented by Snape?

"What do you want?" Avery growled.

Severus looked up at him with a sneer. Slowly leaning forward, he hissed, "A little more respect."

With a slash of his wand Avery fell to the ground, knocked unconscious. Snape grimaced down at him and shook his head in disgust, then muttered, "Feel free to release the petrificus spell on your own."

Severus spun on his heel and walked away.

Hermione was stunned. The exchange she saw was not just with a group of Slytherins…it was a group of future Death Eaters. She recognized the other boys now as Crabbe and Goyle senior, along with Mulciber.

Not only that, but she suspected Severus had used Legilimency on Avery.

Casting a disillusionment charm on herself, she approached the clearing quietly. Raising her wand, she released the boys from the petrificus spell and watched them stagger to their feet, then scurry over to the unconscious Avery.

Hermione turned and started running, her feet pounding against the unstable forest ground, and more than once she nearly twisted her ankle from landing on a gnarled root or a stone. Her breath was shallow, her vision only allowing her the sight of the castle a few hundred feet away. When she finally emerged from the forest entrance, she staggered a little and leaned against a tree.

She was already too late.

The Death Eaters had already started at the school. Alliances were already made. It was too early, far too early. She wasn't prepared for this. She thought she had time; she thought that her budding friendship with Severus could prevent him siding with Voldemort's followers.

Hermione wanted to collapse and wring her hair out of her head until she bled. Why was it never enough? Even going to the past to fix things, she was still failing. How could Dumbledore ever think that a sixteen-year-old girl could rewrite the future? How could he put something like this on her and expect her to succeed?

Her hands began to shake, and the bark of the tree was biting into the skin of her back through her robes. Pushing off from it, Hermione forced herself to head toward the castle.

Students were bustling to their next class. Hermione walked up the grand staircase and to her dormitory to get her books for the evening, but her mind was far and away.

The dorm was vacant, and Hermione sat on her bed and retrieved the books in the satchel next to it. Her eyes caught glimpse of her potions book, and with a sinking feeling she reminded herself that her next class would be Potions.

The bag in her hands began shaking. Angrily she thrust it away from her and dropped to her knees on the floor. Ripping out her trunk, she disabled the various charms and spells and tore out the diadem. It burned in her hands, filling her mind with a thick blanket of darkness. Her eyes were dry but her throat still constricted as her fingers gripped the metal bruisingly.

She flung it in the air and snatched her wand out of her pocket, and began belting out curse after curse, hitting it repeatedly with every terrible thought in her mind. It tossed and turned in the air wretchedly, and she heard a shriek-like scream erupt from the horcrux that only her ears could hear. It dropped harmlessly to the floor after a vicious attack of incendio, but she knew from the start that her attempts would do nothing to the crown. The only spell that was powerful to destroy the horcrux at the moment was fiendfyre, and that was not something she could control, especially in her state of mind.

She wanted to cry, but she could not. They would not come anyway if she tried. Her eyes were horribly dry, her mind nauseously empty, and her body thoroughly drained.

"What do I do?" she whispered to herself in a hollow voice.

No answer came.

Slowly, Hermione walked over to where the diadem had fallen and placed it carefully in her trunk. Her eyes fell on the pack that she had taken with her from the future, filled with textbooks and pictures and everything that was her last tie to the life she once had. Sighing, she closed the trunk and pushed it back under her bed.

It took a few minutes for Hermione to collect herself, but once she did she headed for the dungeons for Potions class. She entered the chilly classroom, walking over to the bench where Severus was sat.

She sat down and Severus immediately smiled. "Hello Hermione," he said cheerfully.

Hermione forced a smile. "Hello."

"You're rather early today."

"Am I? I didn't think so."

She didn't say anything else, sorting her books and quill. Severus frowned.

Before he could say anything, Slughorn walked in and started his lesson. He lectured for a good ten minutes then assigned the draft they were to make that day. Severus glanced at her uncertainly throughout class and Hermione did her best not to notice.

Once Slughorn finished his lecture, Hermione hopped off the stool. "I'll get the ingredients."

She walked over to the shelf and picked out the ingredients carefully. Hermione reminded herself that she needed to stay neutral; that not all was lost yet. The last thing she needed to do was push Snape away. Bottling up her emotions was quickly becoming her least favorite thing.

Despite her efforts, Snape still saw through her. Halfway through class he brought it up.

"Hermione, is something wrong?"

Yes! "No," said Hermione.

"You haven't looked at me in thirty minutes."

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked him directly in the eyes. "Better?"

He opened his mouth to say more when Slughorn reached their table. "Done already?" he said happily. "Why am I still surprised? You two are the most brilliant brewers of the class!"

Hermione handed Slughorn a vial with a sample of their draft for inspection. Slughorn smiled. "I'm very impressed. Mr. Snape is already a part of it, but I see no reason why I shouldn't extend my invitation to a mind as brilliant as yours." He lowered his voice, leaning towards Hermione secretively. "I would like you to consider being a part of a club I started years ago. Students with exceptional potential. I greatly consider you to be one of the best of your year, Miss Granger. Would you like to join?"

The Slug Club? Hermione glanced uncertainly at Severus, and his eyes were hopeful. It would be useful, and it meant perhaps spending more time with Severus, which meant more of a chance to prevent him from becoming something he would later regret.

"It would be an honor, sir," Hermione replied, and Slughorn looked positively thrilled.

"Excellent! I shall inform you of the first meeting of the year. Look for my owl!" With that, the old potions professor hobbled away. Briefly he turned and said, "You two are free to go as you've finished your assignment. Have a nice evening."

"Thank you professor," Severus and Hermione said in unison. Immediately Hermione gathered her books and stuffed them in her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow," she flashed him a little smile and made for the door.

"Wait, Hermione," Severus protested, hastily grabbing his things to catch up with her. She walked speedily down the corridor as he trailed after her.

"Sorry, I just don't want to be late for my next class," Hermione explained.

"You don't have a next class, Hermione. The only thing left is dinner and then bed." Snape quickly caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "Seriously, what is with you today? You barely said two words to me all day." His face darkened. "Was it Black again?"

Hermione sighed. "No, it wasn't Sirius. Really, it's nothing."

"But it's not nothing. Just tell me; maybe I can help," Severus said exasperatedly.

She looked at him tiredly. "It's been a long day. I'd like to just go to bed."

Severus stared at her and closed his mouth. "I see then. They've finally gotten to you."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Am I too shabby to be your friend now? Finally decided that I am not worth your time?" His voice dripped with disgust. "Potter and Black must be so proud."

Her eyes grew large for a moment before they narrowed. He thought that she'd been convinced to not be his friend anymore?

Severus looked at her with disdain. "You're just like the rest of them after all."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Right, bottling was clearly not on the agenda today.

"You know, I didn't want to say anything. But since you won't let it go, and are hurling accusations—yes, I'm frustrated today. Frustrated because I saw you in the Forbidden Forest."

Severus went still. She could see panic rising in his gaze, but he shook his head. "You…must've seen someone else. I wasn't in the Forbidden Forest today."

"So I imagined you hanging people upside down? Using Legilimency on fifteen-year-olds that support the man who murdered my parents?"

Severus paled. "Bugger."

"Yeah. I was on my way back from a Care of Magical Creatures lesson when I saw you." Hermione couldn't hide the disappointment in her tone. "I can't lie, Severus. Seeing you with them made me ill. Are you—?"

"No." Severus said emphatically. "You've got it all wrong. They were testing me, you see, they're my friends—"

Hermione made a noise of disbelief. "Friends don't do that, Severus! And I know what I saw, and they're exactly the kind of people that you're going to get yourself in trouble with. They're not good people."

He was shaking his head again, and Hermione reached out to hold his arm.

"Don't do this," she said softly. Her hands were fisted deeply into his robes as she clung to him desperately, bringing him closer to her until they were inches apart. "You think I don't know, that I don't understand, but I do. You have no idea what I've seen. What I know." She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing painful thoughts away.

Severus hesitantly brought his hands to enclose around hers. "It was nothing," he said gently, his face stricken at her sudden words and actions. "I'm sorry I upset you. We're just fooling around, Hermione."

She shook her head sadly. "That's just it, though. It won't be like that for long."

Hermione was hit with a wave of sadness. It didn't matter what she said to him; it was difficult to change someone when their mind was made. Inside she knew his loyalties would be in the right place…but this was a pivotal point now. Hermione had to acknowledge and accept that she was here now, forever, and had the power to change things. And if she had to use it, she'd start with the first friend she made here.

"Am I your friend?"

Severus cracked a small smile. "Of course you are," he said softly.

Hermione smiled back wistfully. "You don't even know me. Not really."

He glanced down, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes…it doesn't matter." He looked up at her with a light expression. "You remind me of Lily sometimes. It's subtle, but it's there. This…kindness. For anybody." He looked at her sincerely. "I would hate myself if I did something to ruin that."

Hermione looked at him sadly and gripped his hands tightly, before letting go of all reservations and throwing her arms around his neck and pressing against him almost in desperation. Severus hesitantly lifted his arms and wrapped them around her back. "I don't think I could hate you, Severus. No matter how mad I get." Hermione pulled back a little and looked up at him. "That doesn't mean Lily will be as forgiving."

She let go of him and slowly shuffled over to where her bag was thrown. Leaning down to grasp it, she slung it over her shoulder and looked at him tiredly. "Just…think of what you're getting into, Severus. Don't let your feelings cloud your judgement."

He watched her retreat down the corridor but made no move this time to follow. Everything that had passed between them just now confused him immensely, and he couldn't help but feel helplessly sad at their exchange. Something was bothering her, and it had to do with more than what happened between them.

His eyes lowered as he recalled the scene in the forest, and how Hermione had been watching without his knowledge. It deeply unsettled him, and her words began ringing in his ears. Shaking his head, he turned towards the end of the corridor and went to the Great Hall for dinner, uneasy thoughts sifting in his head.

xxx

Halloween night was unlike any other at Hogwarts, at least not in Hermione's experience. Hermione jumped the trick step along the staircase, wondering what other tricks she would encounter today. So far she had dodged an onslaught of bats upon waking up in the morning, a suit of armor had tried chasing her down the dungeons, and Peeves had finally made his appearance and pelted eggs at the first years, where Hermione was unfortunate enough to be mixed in with at the time. She looked down the front of her robes sadly as she tried removing most of the damage magically, but knew the robe would never be the same.

"Please tell me you won't stay this sour for the rest of the day," a chipper voice said behind her. She smiled when James fell in step with her. "Big day today," he grinned. "All the masters of manipulation and deviancy will be roaming around tonight. I'd be careful if I were you."

"A strong warning coming from you." Hermione lifted a brow.

"Course. I'm the cleverest wizard of our year."

"I think you've got the wrong adjective down. You probably meant barmiest—"

"Oh don't be a spoilsport, this is no time for name calling," said James airily, waving off Hermione's retort with ease. "You've never had a Hogwarts Halloween before, Herms—"

"Hermione," she corrected automatically.

"—and let me tell you, they really outdo themselves each year—"

"Truly fascinating, do tell me more—"

"You're late," said McGonagall as the pair entered the classroom. Immediately Hermione froze.

"No, professor I was sure I had ten minutes," she squeaked, checking her watch.

"Have a seat."

Hermione glared at James who threw his hands up in the air in his defense, and walked over to an available seat. Her eyes glanced over to the figure beside her who was, of course, Sirius.

They hadn't really spoken since the Hogsmeade trip, both lost in their own worlds. She was just grateful the Regulus incident hadn't made him turn cold toward Hermione again. She'd had enough teenage drama to last her a lifetime.

"Today we will be doing something different," McGonagall prompted. "The lesson will center mostly on methods of concealment without aid of a polyjuice potion. As you already know, a situation may rise where you need to hide your identity fast and effectively. Transfiguring yourself by altering certain features is just as good as any flask of polyjuice, so long as you know the proper methods of doing so."

She looked around the classroom and stopped at Peter. He flinched slightly under her stare. "Mr. Pettigrew, come up please."

Peter shot a helpless look at James but obeyed. McGonagall raised her wand and Peter shrank away.

"Don't look so glum, boy, I'm not going to hex you." McGonagall sounded amused. She waved her wand in the air and said clearly, "Dissimulo."

Slowly, parts of Peter began to transfigure. His hair went from blond to a light shade of brown, his face grew thinner and his shoulders broadened; a goatee began growing down his face and his eyes went from blue to brown to grey.

After a few moments McGonagall lowered her wand with a satisfied look. Peter turned towards the classroom and a few eyebrows raised, as well as a shriek of giggles from one side of the classroom. Peter's ears went pink as McGonagall explained, "You have to have the image in your mind when you perform this spell. Think of what you want, concentrate, and cast the spell. These transfigurations usually last between six to seven hours if uninterrupted, but can be easily reverted back with the counter spell."

Hermione smiled as she remembered this lesson. She'd ended up sporting a thick handlebar moustache the first time.

"Partner up with the person next to you, and begin."

Hermione glanced next to her. Sirius waved sheepishly. "'Lo."

Hermione took her wand out of her robe. "Would you like to go first?"

"Nah, you start."

"You're sure?"

Sirius shrugged easily, leaning back against his chair.

"Alright." Hermione raised her wand and stared hard at Sirius's face. He had very prominent features, very nice features if she were honest with herself. She began to smile.

She noticed Sirius stiffen at her sudden smile, and he began, "On second thought, I wouldn't mind going first—"

"Too late, I've already started."

Her wand waved deliberately in the air as she muttered, "Dissimulo!" and concentrated on Sirius's face. She lowered her wand down his neck, to his torso, and Sirius shifted uncomfortably as the transformations began.

After a full three minutes, Hermione lowered her wand and fought a grin. "You look great," Hermione said cheerfully. James, who was standing not too far from them and was partnered with a Hufflepuff girl, burst into laughter.

Sirius frowned. "Oi, just what did you do to me?" He looked around for a mirror. By now he had gained the attention of the other students, and James sidled up against Sirius and slung his arm around his waist.

"Mate, I had no idea you could be this beautiful."

"What is it?" Sirius asked. He looked to James for an answer who was still chuckling like mad, but all James said was, "Look down."

Sirius followed his gaze down his torso and blanched. "Bloody hell!"

James conjured a mirror and handed it to Sirius. He wasn't wrong; Sirius was beautiful. Angular features were now softer, fuller. Sirius's jaw dropped, but after a few seconds he tilted his head. "I do make a pretty bird, don't I?" He pulled back his lips to stare at his teeth. "Couldn't have straightened them a bit too, Granger?"

"Do you want me to?" Hermione said in surprise.

"You've already made me a lass, at least do it all the way." Sirius flipped his shaggy hair, giving her a sultry look. "Make me beautiful."

Hermione started laughing and lifted her wand. "If you insist…"

As it happened, not only was Sirius a beautiful girl but also an incredible sport; if he was to endure this, he was going to enjoy every moment. Hermione couldn't stop grinning, especially when he started making pouty faces at the mirror.

McGonagall came up next to them and observed Sirius. "Impressive," said McGonagall with the barest trace of a smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Hermione beamed up at the professor and looked back at Sirius. "Happy Halloween, Sirius."

Sirius smirked. "I think you mean Siria."

Hermione used the counter spell and set Sirius back to normal, much to a chorus of disappointed groans from the other classmates. Sirius rubbed his hands together as he inspected Hermione. "Right, shall we keep up the theme?"

"If you want," Hermione shrugged. "Just don't like, make my nose disappear or something."

"Make your nose disappear? Got it," Sirius winked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Sirius's attention to detail rivaled hers; facial hair, bulging muscles, thicker eyebrows, and several other things that had Hermione staring awkwardly in the mirror. "I'm not a handsome boy, am I?"

"Don't think so," Sirius winced sympathetically. "I really tried."

"I could tell," she said dryly.

"'S for the best, anyway. You're really pretty as a girl."

Hermione's cheeks warmed as Sirius used the counter spell on her.

xxx

The Great Hall was glittering with decorations of a multitude of objects; the sky was enchanted black with shimmering stars and lightning. The tables were already filled with students, and Hermione saw rows upon rows of the feast already lined up and brimming with food.

Finding a seat near the edge of the table, she finally caught her breath and stretched. Before she could immerse herself completely in the much-missed solitude, Lily sat down next to her.

"Happy Halloween!" she said cheerfully.

Hermione sighed and replied, "Let's hope so."

"What's wrong?"

Hermione frowned. "…Nothing at all, actually. Perhaps I'm just waiting for the ball to drop." Another figure sat down in front of them. "Hello James," she greeted.

"Evening, Hermione; might I add that you look absolutely stunning today, Lily? The sweater really does well with your eyes, and your hair for that matter; actually everything you wear looks perfect on you—"

"Don't you have other friends to talk to?" Lily snapped.

"Why would I talk to them when I could spend the rest of the night talking with you?"

Lily blinked a few times before groaning and looking away helplessly.

"Are we sitting at the end of the table now?" Peter's voice said as he sat down next to James.

"Looks like it," said Remus.

"Where's Sirius?" asked Lily.

"Serving detention, as usual," replied Remus. "Even on Halloween night, thanks to McGonagall. Working with Filch on the third floor."

All five of them shuddered and began piling their plates with food. Hermione had to admit, it was quite a nice dinner, and it was not just because of the spectacular food. For the first time she was not reminded painfully of sitting at this very table eating the feast with Parvati and Lavender and Harry and Ron; she didn't look at James and Lily with sadness knowing that it was on Halloween that their lives were taken away from them; her mind was far from these foreboding thoughts. They did drift casually to Sirius, and she realized the initial irritation she held for him had long faded. Especially since Transfiguration. He'd been himself, and Hermione finally understood his charm. Sirius was just fun.

The horcrux posed a problem, though. She was no closer to finding a way to destroy it than the day she found it. It was worrying her—what was the point in collecting all the horcruxes if couldn't destroy them?

Hermione gathered a few cakes and treats from the table and piled it onto a plate, then took a napkin and covered it. Standing up, she carefully grabbed the plated and bid the group of Gryffindors goodbye.

"Where are you going?" asked Peter.

"I'm pretty tired. I think I'll head to bed with some of this food."

They nodded in assent and Hermione walked out of the Great Hall with gusto, but as she continued it began to shrink little by little. Thoughts flying through her head, Hermione did not notice someone walking in her direction until she collided hard into him and stumbled backwards, the plate falling tragically to the floor.

A hand caught her arm and pulled her upright, landing her straight against the figure's chest.

She looked up to apologize but the words lodged in her throat. Hermione was staring straight into a pair of black-rimmed eyes and wild hair tied with a rubber band. A rugged sort of face looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Hello beautiful."

Chapter 7: The Runaway

Chapter 7

The Runaway

If asked, Hermione would probably say he was stunning. And not in a typically stunning way—no, Sirius pretty much had that covered—but in the eccentric, uncertain way that made one wonder if he would smile while breaking their neck. Considering she was inside a school at the moment, she probably didn’t need to worry about the latter.

As Hermione righted herself, she briefly took him in; his robes and loosely-slung green and silver tie told her he was a Slytherin. The smirk on his face told her that she would not be leaving any time soon.

Hermione glanced down at the plate that had fallen to an untimely death, scattering bits of food all around them. "You made me drop my plate," she stated.

A smile curled his lips and he tilted his head, saying nothing. He continued to stare at her until Hermione glanced away and took out her wand. She repaired the broken plate, then levitated the scraps of food back onto it. A quick scourgify cleaned the mess, and within seconds the plate was back in her hand. Hermione frowned. "The least you can do is bring this back to the Great Hall."

The boy's smile widened and took a step towards her. Hermione held her ground, even as he leaned in. She felt his breath, which smelled like mint, as he said softly, "You smell nice. Perfume?"

Hermione stepped away with a glare. "Right. I'll take the plate myself.”

She stopped when he grabbed her arm and spun her back around. She nearly lost balance of the plate and glared at him even more as he held on to her. "Now hold on just a minute," he sounded a little offended, "I'm not done yet."

"Well I am," she said plaintively. "Let me go or I'll drop this all on you."

His eyes flickered to the plate and for a second she thought he would release her. He raised his eyes back to hers and she felt the weight of the plate vanish and she gave a startled intake of breath. She had not noticed him taking out his wand, but evidently he had used it and sent it spiraling down the hallway in the direction of the Great Hall.

He gave her a smile and Hermione frowned. "Okay…” she shrugged out of his grasp and folded her arms. “What do you want?”

He smiled wide. "A bit of fun."

"Scabior?"

Hermione glanced to the side and found Regulus giving them a curious look. "You were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago."

"I got distracted," the boy she assumed was called Scabior said with a shrug. "And I'd like to get to know this bird here, so if you don't mind," he made a shooing gesture with an annoyed flick of his wrist.

Hermione stepped back. "Let’s not." She gave him a calculating look before adding, "I’ll see you around."

"But you could see me now," Scabior grinned, waggling a brow. Hermione found his persistence almost comical. Either he was incredibly bored or he really didn’t want to do whatever it was Regulus wanted him to do.

Regulus shot Scabior a dark look. "Avery was asking for you."

"Tha' git is always asking for me," Scabior snapped. The latter, then. She noticed that his accent got thicker, visibly agitated. "I'm done following 'im around."

"I don't think you understand. He's asking for you."

That made Scabior pause, and finally his focus on Hermione wavered as he shot an annoyed glance at Regulus.

Making a noise of disappointment, Scabior scowled at Regulus sulkily. "If he's not, I'll hex your pretty little eyebrows off."

Regulus raised one, perhaps just to annoy him further, and Scabior stormed off to the Great Hall. As he passed by, he slanted Hermione a look, kohl-rimmed eyes and all."I'll be seeing you soon, sweetness."

He left, leaving Regulus and Hermione standing awkwardly.

"You look a bit peaky," Regulus observed. "Cold?"

"Annoyed mostly," Hermione replied. It struck her as odd that the people she should have been looking for kept finding her instead. It was unsettling. "Another friend of yours?"

"Could you tell by his natural grace and charm?"

Hermione frowned. "I thought Slytherins were supposed to hate Gryffindors."

"We do."

"Then why has each one been a little too friendly with me?" Her eyes wandered to where Scabior had retreated to down the hall and her frown deepened.

He shrugged. "You're not really a Gryffindor."

Hermione glanced at him sharply. "Excuse me?"

Regulus smiled and sauntered over to her until his head was very near her own. His mouth opened to speak but he paused, his eyes slowly wandering up, up, until they stared past the top of her head. A smile lit his face like the switch of a light bulb.

Hermione didn't even have to look to guess who it was.

As Sirius neared them, Regulus said loudly, "What was that, Granger? You’d like a personal tour of my dormitory?”

Not feeling it was worth the effort to pull out her wand and hex him, Hermione simply glared and kicked him swiftly in the shin. Sirius snorted as Regulus let out a yelp, reached down to rub his leg. "What was that, Black? You want me to kick harder?”

"As if you could," Regulus sneered, still grimacing.

Sirius paused by them on his way to the Great Hall. “I wouldn’t poke the dragon, brother. This one bites.”

“Bugger off,” Regulus said venomously.

“I do not bite,” said Hermione incredulously, but it was no use; Sirius wandered off to the Great Hall and she was left with a still-wincing Regulus. She rounded on Regulus. “Why do you have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Use me to antagonize Sirius. It’s a—a shitty thing to do.”

Regulus shrugged. "Whatever gets under his skin. And for some reason right now that’s you.”

“Didn’t seem to work this time,” said Hermione airily. “So I’d stop. Leave me out of whatever feud you have going. I’m no one’s pawn.”

“Everyone’s a bloody pawn,” he retorted, silver eyes flashing. "You just don’t see it yet. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll find out what it is about me that’s eating at you.”

“Eating at me?” Hermione couldn’t help the disbelieving smile, "And what is it you think is eating away at me?”

Regulus smiled. Glancing surreptitiously, he reached inside his robes and slowly pull out a necklace—the same one he’d worn at the Black Lake.

"I know you're curious," Regulus said softly.

Hermione blinked. "You've got to be joking."

Regulus looked at her shrewdly. "No? Then why didn't you report me in to Dumbledore? You know that this isn't ordinary magic I'm using. You saw what happened to me at the lake. And yet…" He moved closer, the necklace dangling dangerously in his hands. "You kept quiet."

Because I need you to be on my side! Hermione thought irritably. Obviously turning him in to the headmaster would ruin any possibility of friendship between them. But if she were honest with herself, Hermione didn't see a friendship between them anytime soon. The way he behaved around her (and unfortunately, when both she and Sirius were present as well) made her like him less and less.

She glanced at the necklace again. Weighed the choices in her mind. Hermione sighed inwardly.

The tension in her body dissipated; her eyes wandered up to Regulus's face as she took a step forward that brought her close enough to touch the necklace by moving just an inch. “Tell me."

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Why?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because clearly you want to tell me, or else we wouldn't still be here."

Regulus's face tightened. When he didn't respond immediately, Hermione stepped back and stared at him. "When you're ready to tell me, you know where to find me."

"Actually no, I don't," Regulus said finally, with a mildly annoyed tone.

At this Hermione smiled. "You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You'll figure it out."

xxx

"Why must you leave?"

Madam Pince shot Severus a dirty look at the volume of his voice. Hermione rolled her eyes and dipped her quill in the ink bottle, carefully tapping off the excess before resuming writing her last Transfiguration essay of the month.

"I can't refuse to visit my…the Potters during my first Christmas holidays," Hermione chided as she scribbled quickly on the parchment. "They've been very kind to me, and they really want me to come so…will you stop making that noise?"

Severus scoffed again, the same sound he'd been making in the entire duration of their conversation for the last ten minutes.

"Honestly," Severus sounded highly annoyed, "you will definitely not be missing anything if you choose to stay at Hogwarts."

"Just because you've chosen to stay doesn't mean I have to," replied Hermione in a clipped voice. "Isn't anyone else you know staying for the break?"

Severus made a noise that was either mocking or irritated, Hermione could not tell by this point. As her eyes roved over the last sentence she had written, Hermione carefully placed the quill on the table and sighed, glancing over at the parchment in satisfaction.

"And that's it," said Hermione cheerfully, quickly screwing the ink bottle closed and packing away her books. She glanced at Severus, who was staring off into the distance with a deep frown and a scowl knit dangerously low on his forehead.

Sighing again, Hermione leaned forward in her chair. "It's not too late to change your mind about going home or not," Hermione reminded. "You should think about it. You, me, and Lily could rendezvous sometime over break. It'll be fun."

Severus gave her a dark and sullen look. "I'd rather not," he said softly, the faintest trace of disgust layered in his voice. "Not all of us have charming 'Mr. and Mrs. Potter's to greet us at home."

Ah, yes. The vague and mysterious family background of Severus Snape, of which Hermione only had a very basic knowledge about. By the way he spoke of his parents and his home, Hermione was almost certain that his home life was akin to Harry's; worse, even.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Hermione inquired.

"No." Snape’s lip curled with distaste. "And I wouldn't want them. More baggage to take care of."

Hermione frowned. "That's a very harsh way of looking at it," she said. "I would love to have an older or younger sibling. It would've made things less lonely." Snape watched her curiously. Hermione shrugged a little. "You might have even liked it."

"I'm perfectly fine as is," said Severus coldly. The sharpness of his words snapped Hermione from her thoughts, for she had spoken without even really thinking.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione honestly. "I was just saying whatever came in my head."

Severus nodded, looking away.

"Only you would be working hard on the day of departure," a voice interrupted both Hermione and Severus's thoughts. They glanced up to see Remus walking toward their desk.

"Force of habit," she replied, smiling. It was a tradition Hermione had kept since her first year at Hogwarts. "And besides, the train doesn't leave until two, and it's only eleven-thirty."

"I suppose you're right," Remus agreed, smiling.

"Is there a reason you are here, Lupin, or do you often cut in other people's conversations?" came Snape's silky retort.

Remus blinked, and shifted his arm to hold out a very dusty and massive book. "I came to put this back," he said slowly. "Sorry to have interrupted."

“Don’t be.” Hermione glared forcefully at Severus, then looked up at Remus. “I’ll see you on the train, yeah?”

Remus nodded, giving Hermione and Severus a forced smile. "I'll see you around."

When Remus sauntered off behind a bookshelf, Hermione rounded on Severus. "Why must you always be that way?"

"Be what way?"

"Just—mean. And to Remus! He's been nothing but kind to you; the least you could do is show a bit courtesy.”

Fury washed on Severus’s face. "I have no reason to be kind to spineless bystanders," Severus hissed. "He may be kind words and polite smiles, but not once has he told off Black and Potter in the last five years for their pranks. The fact he’s their friend proves my pointt."

"Where does that put me, then?" Hermione frowned. "I am their friend—most of them, anyway," she corrected, as her relationship with Sirius was tenuous at best. "I am living with, and essentially the adopted sister of, James Potter." Hermione shook her head. "And how do you know he doesn’t tell them off in private? Severus, you need to remember we’re all fifteen," she said emphatically. "They—and this includes you—will not do the right thing every time; we’re all still learning. It’s just the way it is."

Severus scowled and looked away, his eyes blazoned with anger that was barely restrained.

"Other than his friendship and his—his silence," she started hesitantly, "has he ever been cruel to you?"

He did not reply immediately. He glowered in his chair, looking away from her. Then, softly and definitely unwillingly, he muttered, “No.”

Hermione shook her head. "Then for Merlin's sake, Severus. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

Severus glared, then relented with an eye roll. “You’re such a bleeding Gryffindor heart.”

Before Hermione could retort back, Remus passed by their desk again, making for the library exit.

"I'll see you at the station, Hermione," said Remus, pausing a little. Remus's eyes flickered to Severus, who was firmly avoiding his gaze. Remus smiled tightly. "Goodbye, Severus."

A long pause. Hermione kicked her foot out. Severus held back a groan and looked up unwillingly. "Right," grimaced Severus at Remus.

She supposed it was too soon to expect more than that.

Remus smiled mildly and left. The tension in the air, while still lingering, was significantly less than it was five minutes ago. Hermione let out a breath and stretched in her seat, smiling widely. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Severus did not bother even responding. Grabbing his bag, he sidled a glance at her and said coldly, "Do try to stay alive while you're on holiday. The Potters are known for their beasts."

Hermione blinked a few times, wondering what in the world he could have meant.

xxx

Hermione did not dislike very many things.

Divination, broccolini, and Voldemort summed the things she disliked. So she couldn’t say she disliked sitting with Lily and her friends on the train, but there were other things she’d rather be doing than sit through six hours’ worth of poorly-hidden pitying looks.

But James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius had their compartment crowded with a couple of sixth-years in an epic tournament of Exploding Snap, and James offered Hermione a space inside to play with them, but Hermione declined. Lily, incredible friend that she was, steered Hermione to her compartment with her friends.

Honestly, Lily’s open acceptance and kindness was sometimes overwhelming—she seemed to be good friends with nearly everyone in the school, Slytherins included. She was such good fun to be around that it was no wonder so many students gravitated towards her like a magnet. Hermione was lucky to know her.

This was, unfortunately, one of those moments where being surrounded by people only served to remind her how alone she was.

What would happen once she collected and destroyed the remaining horcruxes? No matter what angle she looked at it, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. All that would be left was Voldemort. Voldemort and Hermione. If she lived that long, that is. A shiver ran down her spine.

As these thoughts clouded her head, a Slytherin boy walked past her compartment.

It took a long time for Hermione to finally realize that she had not been 'accidentally' bumping into flocks of Slytherins throughout the year; if she thought hard enough, it would seem almost convenient. She’d yet to meet the unspoken Slytherin leader, Avery, but it didn’t stop her from running into everyone else.

Scabior had been interesting. Regulus had been fairly traumatic, what with the nearly-drowning bit. But definitely, definitely, Mulciber was the worst so far.

She ran into Mulciber a week before leaving day, which had also brought her dangerously close to meeting Avery. She wasn’t too keen on that, not yet. Mulciber was just as terrible though, especially when strolling down Hogwarts grounds.

It had been rather tame, at first; he mocked her, her family, her upbringing, her blood status—insults Draco Malfoy had desensitized her to. Then, Mulciber took out his wand.

Now, Hermione didn’t consider herself an expert duelist, but she was big enough to admit she was rather good. So when for a second —a fraction of a second—she glanced up at the castle and caught a glimpse of Sirius through a window, laughing with his friends, Hermione was knocked off her feet. It was extremely disappointing.

Mulciber sneered over her. "Looks like mudbloods really aren't witches after all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Haven’t heard that one before,” said Hermione with heavy sarcasm.

Just as she was going to hex the smile off his face, a rough voice spoke: "Wot the ’ell are you doing, Mulciber?"

Hermione glanced behind Mulciber and found Scabior staring bemused, a toothpick held between his teeth. He’d drawn on eyeliner again, and his hair was tied back haphazardly. He reminded of her the muggle rock stars she had pinned up posters of in her old bedroom. All that was missing was the leather jacket.

"Showing the mudblood her place," said Mulciber.

Hermione held back a snort. Quickly, she rolled to her feet and adjusted the grip on her wand.

"I think she'll show you yours first," Scabior’s lips twitched. Mulciber hadn’t noticed Hermione’d stood up.

"Not siding with a Gryffindor mudblood, are you, Scabior? Can't imagine Avery would be pleased.”

Scabior’s lips turned down in disgust. "Avery can suck my—"

"Boys, boys," Hermione interrupted. "Can't we just be civilized and not hex the pants off each other? No?"

Mulciber whirled around, panicked. “I didn’t say you could get up!” He reached for his wand again.

Hermione lazily flicked her wrist and Mulciber's wand went flying. Catching it easily, she smiled at him as she slowly twirled it in her hand.

"You—you—" Mulciber’s face turned purple with humiliated fury. Scabior began roaring with laughter.

"Hex the girl, you prat!" Mulciber screamed at Scabior.

Scabior drawled, “You got yourself in this mess, you nit. Get yourself out of it.”

Mulciber rounded angrily on Hermione. "You'll pay for this, filthy—"

"You really might want to choose your words wisely," Hermione reminded, rolling his wand between her fingers.

Mulciber frowned. "You snap that and you're expelled," he said viciously, and Hermione had to give him merit for actually something other than how to bully students.

"That is true. I guess I'll have to give it back to you, then."

Instead of handing it over, however, she flicked her wand again and Mulciber's wand zoomed out of her hand and in the air, spinning madly towards the castle.

"It's gone in the dungeons," said Hermione. "Shouldn't take you too long to find it. Unless, of course, another student finds it first."

Mulciber glared at her in pure hatred and started towards the castle. "You best hope Avery doesn't meet you," he threatened, "for there will be pure hell to pay for this."

As Mulciber darted to the castle doors, becoming nothing more than a blur in the distance, Hermione sighed. She really should have not bothered with him, but the Slytherin had given her no choice. He was, after all, probably going to do some very unpleasant things to her nose with his wand when he had knocked her off her feet. She did not want a repeat performance of the evergrowing-front-teeth incident.

"Impressive. Creative," Scabior noted, running a rough hand through his hair.

"Yes," Hermione cleared her throat. "Well…jog on."

He was not fazed by her quick dismissal; in fact, he sidled along next to her with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Say, where did you transfer from, again? Rumors aren’t always so reliable—"

"I'm not sure why it matters."

"It doesn't, not really. Just that, back there—"

Hermione stopped walking and looked up at him. He was smiling good-naturedly, and Hermione's curiosity piqued at his seeming disregard of the House hatred.

"I really don't like to talk about my past." The smile was wearing down a bit on his face, and his expression was starting to change. She quickly looked away. "Sorry.”

Hermione continued to walk, but his next words chilled her.

"So fifth-year mudbloods know 'ow to do nonverbal spells?"

Hermione stopped.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and turned around to face him. Looking up at him with contempt, she said, "What do you want?"

"Now we're talking," Scabior grinned cheerfully. "I'm assuming you don't want to discuss the spell-thing? No?"

Her silence was answer enough. His smile widened. "Excellent. This is going to be lovely."

"What do you want?" Hermione repeated.

Scabior shrugged, unconcerned. "Dunno yet, but I’m sure I’ll think o’ something. I’ll be seeing you—don’ wanna be late for class.”

After his departure, Hermione had noticed more and more stares thrown her direction from the Slytherin table for several days. Some by the boys she’d seen with Severus in the forbidden forest.

"Are you alright?"

Startled from her thoughts, Hermione looked up. They were all staring at her.

"Y-yes. Must've dozed off or something." Hermione stood up and stretched. "I think I'll go to the lavatory."

"Don't take too long," said Lily, looking at Hermione worriedly.

"I won't."

Hermione slid the door open and slipped outside quietly.

Quickly making her way to the loo, Hermione was relieved that it was not occupied. Locking the door behind her, Hermione stared back at her reflection and sighed.

Perhaps she should have listened to Severus. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay at Hogwarts. Perhaps, perhaps…

But there was no time for perhaps and maybes. There was now, that was all.

A fierce knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. Running her fingers through her hair quickly in an attempt to tame the mane, Hermione adjusted her clothes and opened the door.

It was a short second year Ravenclaw girl, who looked about ready to explode so Hermione quickly moved aside to let her through. Hermione noticed a small line had formed outside the bathroom. Merlin, how long had she been in there?

A low whistle caught her attention. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Hermione tried not to smile. Sirius was leaning against the wall of the train. He looked a little tired, but she knew she looked worse. “Right? Who’d’ve guessed we’d both need to use the loo on a six-hour train ride?"

“Obscene.”

Hermione huffed a smile. "Sorry, what’re we talking about?"

"No idea.” Sirius flashed a grin. "Going home with James today, then?"

"I am.”

Sirius nodded easily. The line moved up a bit, so he stepped forward, Hermione moving with him. "You'll love it there," he said with a soft smile. "Spent countless summers at his house. The Potters know how to have a good time."

Hermione smiled. "I'm looking forward to spending more time with his parents. They were so kind to me when I first arrived."

“They’re like that, the Potters.” Sirius gave a half-smile. An edge of pain lanced in his eyes. “Sometimes wish they were my real family.”

Hermione’s heart panged. “Maybe they are.” She tilted her head. “Not by blood. But they’re your found family, right? That still means something.”

Sirius stared at her for a moment, as if he were at a loss. Then he blinked, and a smile began curling his lip. “Yeah. It does.” He inhaled deeply, glancing up the line before turning to her. “There’s some room in the compartment now. Most of the sixth-years left, if you want to come by. Real barrel of laughs, they were.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t win,” Hermione surmised.

“Not even close. And they’re sore bloody losers,” he said darkly.

“Thank you, but it’d be rude to leave Lily at this point.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced at the loo. “My turn now. I’ll see you.”

“Bye,” said Hermione, watching him go. Hermione made her way back to her compartment and found the girls asleep, including Lily. She hoped it stayed that way for the remaining hours until they reached London. Slipping inside quietly, Hermione took her seat and stared out the window, letting the sound of train tracks and rain drops lull her asleep.

xxx

When the train finally slowed, Hermione left her compartment and headed to the front of the train. She struggled a bit with her trunk as she stepped off the train and onto the platform. The chilly December air hit her immediately, and she ducked her head against the biting wind and wheeled her trunk behind her.

She glanced around hoping to see either James or his parents, but didn’t catch sight of them. She lingered near the train, waiting for James so they could find his parents together.

A finger poked her shoulder and Hermione jumped. "Easy." It was Regulus. Again. "I just came to take you up on your deal."

"Deal?" Hermione shook her head. "What deal did we ever make?"

"You told me to come and find you, and I did," said Regulus as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Here I am."

“Now’s not exactly the best time," said Hermione slowly, looking him over curiously. He seemed—fidgety.

"Obviously," Regulus snapped. "But now I know where to find you. Keep an eye for my owl."

"What?"

"Happy holidays." He dismissed her and abruptly turned around and left.

That was strange. He seemed less on edge about her, though; she optimistically considered it as progress.

"There you are," she heard James from behind. She turned and found James jogging toward her, looking exasperated. "We've been looking for you for ages! Come on, Mum and Dad are waiting."

"I’ve been here this whole time,” Hermione frowned. "Have the others left already?" Hermione inquired, referring to Remus, Peter, and Sirius.

"Yeah, they've left with their families," he said mildly. "Don't worry though, you'll get to see them again soon."

"Why?"

"You don't know?" Hermione shook her head. A sly glint flickered in his gaze. "Well, no point ruining the fun now."

"What fun?"

"You'll find over the next few days. Don't fret, sis; all will reveal itself over due time."

"That’s not cryptic at all,” Hermione muttered. Sighing, she strolled forward and followed James's lead.

It didn’t take long to find Charlus and Dorea standing just outside the platforms near the muggle exit. Dorea spotted Hermione first and immediately strode forward to wrap her arms around her. "Hermione! We're so excited you’re staying for the holidays." She squeezed tight, and Hermione hugged her back. It felt nice; Molly Weasley’s hugs used to feel this way, too.

"So," said Charlus, "are you two hungry?"

xxx

When they arrived at Godric's Hollow it was well past nine o'clock, for the Potters had decided to take James and Hermione to a muggle restaurant. It was amusing to see Mr. Potter ("Darling, do call me Charlus, I feel like my father when you call me Mr. Potter," Charlus grimaced) handle muggle money, much less see the muggle way of preparing food and serving. It had been Dorea's idea, for she felt Hermione would feel a little more comfortable dining someplace familiar.

Hermione was currently curled up on a very comfortable sofa in the living room, her head resting against the cushioned armrest as her eyes stared at the ceiling. Her body felt drained, as if all the energy sapped out of her the moment she stepped out of Hogwarts.

The room, similar to the rest of James's house, was very large and comfortable. Across from her was an oval pinewood coffee table, and across that was another sofa that James was currently occupying. He was stretched lazily across it, one hand holding a copy of the Daily Prophet and the other a quill.

The fireplace was lit, crackling with flames and bringing warmth to where she sat. She closed her eyes, savoring the rare moment of feeling at home, feeling comforted. A quiet moment she knew wouldn’t always happen.

Stretching a little, she peered at James as he read the Prophet. Once in a while he would furrow his brow, reach over to the table, and dip his quill in an ink bottle to underline or circle something.

She watched him do this for ten minutes. "James?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"Obviously." He circled something again. "Why are you circling things?"

His eyes briefly flickered over to hers. He looked away quickly and replied, "Don't worry about it. It's just something stupid I like to do."

At Hermione’s persistent look, Jams sighed and motioned her over. Unfurling herself from the couch, Hermione padded over and he sat up, moving so they could sit next to each other.

He held out the paper to her. Glancing at him briefly, Hermione began to read.

At first the markings seemed random but she cottoned on quickly; there was a pattern. They were consistently numbers—number of deaths. Numbers were circled, ages were underlined, and last names were underline twice.

"James," Hermione said slowly, "why are you keeping count of how many reported deaths there are in the Daily Prophet?"

James rubbed his jaw roughly and straightened his glasses. "Well," he began, “I didn't start doing this until the end of term last year," he admitted. "Around June. Around when things…things started happening with the attacks."

When Voldemort and his followers grew most active.

"So you’re tracking him?"

James shook his head. "Not at all. I just remember reading the Prophet one evening, the day after term ended and I was home, and my dad had just walked through the front door. He seemed…a little lost. More baffled, really, so I asked him what happened."

He reached around the sofa and picked up his school bag and placed it on his lap, fiddling with the zipper. "He told me he met about the strangest young man in the Leaky Cauldron, who was just starting a newspaper business of his own with the help of his wife—whom he just married, and quite young too, right out of Hogwarts—and he handed me a copy of the boy's first newspaper issue."

James unzipped his school bag he pulled out a second magazine. He handed it over to her, and when Hermione read the name of the newspaper she gasped.

"The Quibbler?" Hermione blanched.

"Have you heard of it?"

She blinked and looked up at him. "N-no," she answered, looking back down at it. "What is the young man's name, though?" she asked hesitantly. "The one who started this paper?"

James frowned a little. "I don't think I'm pronouncing it right—but I believe his name is Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Ah," Hermione nodded, still a little shell-shocked. "Ah."

"I read this paper last June. Merlin's beard, nearly ninety percent of it was pure garbage. He kept going on and on and on about some beasts and creatures that no one has ever heard of—nearly dozed off twice—but then I turned to the Current News section, and noticed some very interesting things."

James took the Quibbler and opened up to a section. "It mentions certain individuals, though at first glance very vague or unimportant. But they kept showing up, and they were from small families, virtually unknown…and dead. All of them—friends or acquaintances of Lovegood, I'm sure, for how else would he learn of their passing?—were mentioned, week after week. What interested me, however, was that the Daily Prophet never penned down these deceased. Not even in their obituaries."

"And…?"

"And isn't that strange? These deaths—none of them were from natural causes. It wasn't as if they went to sleep one night and simply never woke up the next morning. And none of them were cursed either, so they couldn't say it was by magic. It's so strange, so peculiar, and so much like Voldemort's style."

"Yes," Hermione said pensively. "It is very curious…" Hermione stared at the two newspapers again. "So you've been marking what's been reported in the Daily Prophet and what's not?"

"Pretty much," James agreed. "I didn't believe the Quibbler at first, so I went to a few witches and wizards' houses that the paper mentioned, and…well, the bloke had his facts right."

"You actually went to the homes of the families who lost someone?" He nodded. "And they didn't turn you away?"

"Frankly they were quite happy to have some company," James remarked. "They weren't cheerful visits, but the people were very kind. I only went to a few places, but honestly the first family had me convinced."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but James sighed. "I know I'm probably wasting my time, and I didn't mean for this to go one for so long…but it's kind of a habit now. The newspaper thing, I mean."

"It's not a waste of time," said Hermione. "I think it's…amazing, actually."

"Really?"

"You noticed something no one else has, and that's brilliant, James. I really think you caught on to something. You cared enough to meet these people. That means something."

And it really was brilliant. As Hermione reread some of the things he had marked, she realized he’d withheld a crucial distinction from her, but she noticed anyway. He’d distinguished between a wizard and a muggleborn wizard by their last name and identified their age; which, if she was correct, were all fairly young—probably right out of school.

If this was all true, then James must’ve read about her, too.

The urge to ask him if he’d kept the article arose, but Hermione pushed it down. The fact that didn’t bring up distinguishing purebloods or muggleborns meant he hadn’t for a reason.

In which case…

"Have you been doing this while at school, too?"

James nodded. "Mostly in my dorm, though. ’S a pretty grim thing to do in the open.”

“I’d say.”

James glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. "Blimey, it's eleven. How the hell did that happen?"

Hermione shrugged. "Dunno. Your parents don’t say anything about staying up late?”

"Not hardly,” James snorted. “Besides, they’re up to their usual scheming, probably.”

"What schemes?"

James smiled secretively and kept silent.

"Why won't you tell me!" Hermione whined. "I hate this!"

"And that's precisely why it's so much more fun not to tell you.” He sprung to his feet, pulling Hermione along with him. "Come, my dear sister. It is time to go to bed."

"Sister?" Hermione raised a brow. He’d said it enough times for Hermione to bring it up.

"Well you may as well be, living here forever and all. And I’ve always wanted a sister."

“Really? Not brothers?” Hermione was curious.

James choked a laugh. “I already have three brothers, remember?”

Hermione held a smile. “Right. Hard to forget.”

"Now come on. I believe you've met the staircase already?" James said as they approached it.

"Yes, I daresay I have," she sighed, and together they climbed up. When they went their separate ways, and Hermione laid very still in her bed and stared outside her window, a thought nagging her brain for the longest time which made shift restlessly on the bed.

The last thought she had before sleep overtook her was that somehow, Hermione needed to see Xenophilius Lovegood.

xxx

The next morning Hermione woke up with a start.

For a moment she could not recognize where she was or what bed she was sleeping in.

The Potters, her mind supplied. She was at the Potters.

The clock on the wall told her she had slept in late. Nobody had bothered waking her. Morning light was creeping its way through the heavy curtains, just enough to bathe the room in a soft yellow glow. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Hermione stared at the wild nest of hair that currently reflecting back in the mirror. After many attempts to flatten it, Hermione gave up and trudged downstairs.

James was sat at the table with a slice of toast. When he saw her come in James nodded, mumbling, “Morninmph’.”

"Morning. You could’ve woken me, you know.”

James shook his head. “Nah, I only just woke up too.”

Hermione grabbed a slice of toast and began buttering it. “So what shall we do today?"

"I could give you a tour about the house? I don't think I had time to do that the last time you were here." James paused. "Mmm actually, hold off on that. We’ll do that later.”

"Okay…" said Hermione, a little confused. “Anything else, then?" A thought struck her. "We can go into town, maybe?"

"Sure," James said easily. "I just have to tell Mum, and then we'll be off."

James and Hermione peered into the study and found Dorea Potter sitting comfortably in an armchair, a massive book in her lap.

"Oi, Mum! Is it alright if I show Hermione the town?”

Dorea barely glanced up from her book. "It’s fine—be back before supper, though.”

Smiling triumphantly, James led Hermione back upstairs to get ready.

After bundling up in warm clothes, the two stepped toward the fireplace.

“Have you used Floo powder before?” he asked.

“I have, don’t worry,” Hermione assured.

“Brilliant.” James took a pinch of Floo powder and said clearly, "Diagon Alley!"

Immediately a shot of flames engulfed him, and he disappeared. Hermione stepped in after him, shouting the same. The flames enveloped her, and Hermione closed her mouth before she could inhale a mouthful of soot. The moment she was on solid ground again, she was blasted immediately by a strong and cold wind that nearly stole Hermione's breath.

"Damned winter," James cursed under his breath, shivering next to her. "Come on, we better get a move on if we want to beat the crowd."

Walking around town with James Potter ended up being an extraordinarily enjoyable experience. They walked with their arms linked together (mostly to keep themselves warm; it was genuinely freezing) and stopped by several shops she did not recognize in the nineties.

For one, there was a small little bookshop at the corner of a street, and inside Hermione was amazed by the books at her disposal. As she explored further her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she saw books entailing dark magic, and after reading several titles she was convinced it was necessary to return on her own and make a few purchases. They would certainly improve her chances at destroying some horcruxes.

Later, James led her through the Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London, much to Hermione’s delight. James wasn’t as familiar with the area but followed Hermione’s lead with good humor, stopping by a pastry shop where they purchased little mince pies with tea.

He was smiling indulgently as Hermione enthused, “Oooh, I could show you how the tube works. I dunno how much more muggle money you’re carrying—frankly I’m surprised you carry any at all.”

“Dad works with the Ministry,” James said with a shrug. “He made a habit out of it, and it passed to me.”

“It’s smart,” she replied, “and really, wizards really ought to visit the rest of London. Or England. Or, you know, the world. There’s so much out there our community is missing out just because we’re different.”

“To be fair, we’ve seen the basics. Big Ben, London Eye, Westminster,” James ticked them off on his fingers. “Then that nasty business at Hampton Court.”

“What happened at Hampton Court?” Hermione asked curiously.

James rolled his eyes. “Some plonker hexed the suits of armors before we got there—they kept trying to behead the tourists.”

Hermione made a face. “That’s terrible. But fitting, I suppose. Still, if you want, I could show you around some muggle parts. Cambridge isn’t too far from here; we can go into town.”

James’s eyes lit up. “Yes, oh there’s a brilliant wizard pub there Dad keeps talking about. It’s supposed to be behind a Tesco.”

“It’s settled, then,” Hermione beamed.

They arrived home just in time for dinner as promised, and Hermione felt like a weight was lifted off her—for once, she could smile and laugh and it felt so right to do so, because at that moment in the Potters living room, sitting with James and his parents, Hermione did not need to think about Voldemort and ripped souls and Death Eaters and red-sanded Time Turners and Slytherins. Hermione could simply be, and it felt wonderful and feathery light and it made her happy. It made her feel at home.

Several days passed like this. The air between Hermione and James was infinitely languorous and fun. James was so fun. She got along with him so well, he made her laugh constantly, and she wondered why he was not like this all the time, especially at Hogwarts? Perhaps when he was around other people or his friends, he put up this version of himself that was supposed to be cooler. She liked this side of him so much more.

It was the night of December 18, a quiet Thursday in the Godric's Hollow. Hermione had a muggle book propped in her lap, sitting in her usual spot by the fireplace downstairs in the living room. James had taken to spending time with her in this room since the day of their arrival, and Hermione very much enjoyed the company. It was a sort of unspoken agreement between the two to make the living room their 'spot', and if Hermione allowed herself to think about it even a little, she would think it felt rather nice to have someone like a brother in her life.

"When are your parents coming back, again?" Hermione asked off-handedly as she turned a page. James was laying on his stomach right before the crackling fireplace, while Hermione had taken residence on the sofa on his left.

"Tomorrow night," James mumbled, flipping through pages of some wizard's magazine.

"And they do this every year?"

"Correct."

"I still can't believe they trust you to behave when alone in this house."

James scoffed, "My parents are very important people, Hermione, which you'll soon see the extent of. I'm competent enough to stay alive for three days in their absence, thank you very much."

Hermione grinned. "It also helps that the house elves are here though, doesn't it?"

"Yes, they are the majority of the reason behind my success…."

Hermione laughed, and James got to his feet. "I’ll be back—going to the loo.”

Hermione looked out the window and saw thick raindrops pelt against the windowpane relentlessly, and she sighed. A week before Christmas and it was raining?

Sighing, Hermione turned the page.

As she began to get immersed in the book once again, a noise made her pause. At first she thought it was the sound of perhaps a tree branch falling, but it was much more subtle of a sound than that. And it had come from the front door.

The rain was pounding against the glass so hard that it made it difficult to hear anything else above it. When she shook her head and turned back to the book, the sound came again, only louder.

Hesitantly putting her book down on the sofa, Hermione rose to her feet and slowly approached the window. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She squinted to try and see where that noise was coming from, but saw nothing.

“James? Are you done yet?” Hermione called. “Something weird’s…”

Suddenly someone started pounding on the front door madly, with enough to rattle it. Luckily the door was reinforced by magical enchantments, so it was impossible to knock it down.

It was also impossible for muggles to see the Potters' residence, meaning whoever was at the door could use magic.

“James,” Hermione repeated, a little shakily. “There’s someone at the door.” She flinched back when the pounded started again, even more frantic than before. She was now only a foot away from the door. Vaguely she heard shouting, of someone's name? It was so raw, and desperate, and the pounding began to grow weaker.

Hermione looked inside the eyehole and strained to see who it was in the dark.

The blood drained out of her face.

Hermione grappled with the locks, fingers stumbling. She tore the door open and looked down at the figure that was now on his knees.

"Oh god," she breathed, taking in the soaking wet appearance of the man in front of her. "Oh god."

Hermione stepped outside and was drenched immediately, but she did not care. Bending down, Hermione grasped his arms and tried to pull him to his feet to get him inside.

"Sirius," Hermione shook him hard. "Sirius!"

He was not responding, but she could tell he was still conscious. She gave a wild tug at him, and after much pulling and coaxing she got him to his feet. "Come on, Sirius," she encouraged him. "Just a little more. A little more and you'll be inside and safe. Come on."

He moaned softly, and Hermione swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.

They stumbled together across the threshold and Hermione kicked the door closed, trusting the enchantments of the house to keep them safe. Dragging him over to the sofa, Hermione flung her book away and forced Sirius to sit.

"James!" Hermione shouted, glancing at Sirius fretfully. "James!"

She refocused her attention on Sirius and saw he was truly soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. He was muttering softly under his breath.

"What? Hermione whispered. "Sirius, what is it?"

She moved closer to him, and she heard him whispering, over and over, "I couldn't do it. Wouldn't. Never. Never. Never. Never."

And then he went limp.

"Mipsy!" Hermione shrieked.

Immediately a house elf appeared next to her. "Mistress called?"

"I need a new change of clothes for him," she said quickly. "And towels and blankets, LOTS of blankets. Quickly!"

Mipsy immediately Disapparated with a crack.

"Sirius?" She pushed back the hair in front of Sirius's face and her jaw dropped. He was covered in bruises. “Okay, okay…let’s—let’s get you out of your wet clothes. Lift your arms.” It took a moment but Hermione was able to peel away his sweater and shirt. When Mipsy returned they helped Sirius into dry, fresh clothes.

Hermione was extremely worried about the catatonic state Sirius seemed to be in, but he was starting to rouse little by little.

Hermione tugged on a thick sweater over Sirius's head with much difficulty, and said, "Sirius? Sirius. I need you to raise your arms again, okay? Can you hear me?"

He did not respond. Hermione manually lifted each arm so that she could slide the sweater over him completely. Mipsy had already wrestled him inside a snug and wooly pair of pajamas, and Hermione said to her, "I need you to get James now, Mipsy. Tell him Sirius is here."

"Yes, Mistress." And she disappeared again.

Hermione grabbed a towel and began drying his hair quickly. To some extent Sirius was conscious enough to keep sitting upright, but his mind was worlds away. Whe she saw he was still shivering, and Hermione grabbed a few blankets and wrapped them securely around him.

She pushed his hair away again, and cupped his face in her hands. "Sirius?" she said softly. "Sirius, you have to wake up."

His eyes opened, but did not acknowledge her any further. His teeth were chattering, so Hermione kneeled on the sofa and wrapped her arms around him so she could give him her body heat. "It's alright," she whispered softly. "It's alright now."

They stayed like that for a while, until the worst of his shivering subsided. She held on to him tightly, gently rubbing his arms.

James bolted into the room with a crazed look. "What the hell happened?"

"He just showed up," Hermione answered quietly. "I don't know anything. He hasn't spoken much. He just showed up."

"Is he hurt?"

Hermione moved a little so she was on Sirius's side, then gently tilted his chin upwards so James could see his face.

James paled. "Merlin…"

Sirius flinched then, and Hermione dropped her arms from him.

"What is it?" James asked, finally dropping to his knees in front of him. "Sirius, what's wrong? What happened?"

Sirius lifted his head and Hermione noticed him scratching painfully at his left arm. He groaned, and then suddenly pulled out his arm from the blankets and tugged up the sleeve of his sweater.

Hermione gasped loudly. James cursed. Two angry words were starting to form on his arm.

Blood Traitor.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she looked at Sirius incredulously.

"What did you do?" James breathed.

The word were shining brilliantly now and Sirius hissed in pain, which slowly became a moan, until he was yelling in earnest.

"What do we do?" Hermione exclaimed, panicked.

"I don't know!"

"You need to contact your parents, now."

"I'll get them." James jumped to his feet. "Get him to calm down!"

"Hurry! I think we need to get him to St. Mungo's."

James disappeared again, and Hermione turned back to Sirius. He was not screaming anymore, but he was still staring at his arm.

Her heart clenched painfully. "Dear god, Sirius," she whispered quietly. "Tell me what I can do.”

Something sparked in her head. Hermione sprang up and darted up the stairs and into her bedroom. Throwing open her trunk, Hermione took out the satchel which she brought from her own time. Her hand finally caught onto a cool glass bottle, one that Dumbledore had given her before her journey, one which she never felt she would need to use.

She bounded back downstairs and rushed into the living room.

But by then, Sirius was gone.

Chapter 8: Tabula Rasa

Chapter 8

Tabula Rasa

Panic. Breathing was very difficult when all she could feel was panic.

You lost him? You lost him! Hermione's stared at the empty couch, the glass bottle in her hand falling to the plush carpeted floor.

How on earth did he disappear so fast? She had only been gone for a second! Hermione bolted to the dining room, the bathroom, even the kitchens. She threw open the front door and searched nearby outside, getting soaked again in the process. Nowhere.

She went back to the kitchens to the house-elves. "I need you to help me," she said firmly. "Sirius Black is somewhere in this house or around this block. Please help me find him."

Several elfish heads bobbed in compliance feverishly, and squeaks of "Master Black!" echoed in the kitchen. With successive cracks the house-elves disappeared and began their search.

She had only blinked a second later when a little elf popped back in front of her. The elf squeaked, "Master Black is in the third floor bathroom!"

Third floor? She’d never went up there before. "Take me, please," she said hastily, and small fingers grasped her wrist.

With a pop she found herself in a massive porcelain bathroom. Hermione glanced around frantically then paused.

Hermione forced herself to look away and reverted her attention down at the elf still beside her, who merely bowed and disappeared with a loud crack.

With a steadying breath, Hermione moved forward. The bathroom was beautiful, but she couldn’t admire it; not when Sirius was sitting limp against the bathtub.

Hermione knelt down, knees meeting cold tile. She was almost afraid to speak, not wanting to shatter whatever calm he’d reached.

He sat leaning against the tub, one leg out and the other bent up. His arms were crossed over his stomach, his eyes closed as if to drown out the rest of the world. Wet tendrils of hair framed his face. He could have been asleep, but his fast intakes of breath gave him away.

Two minutes ago Sirius Black had been a shivering and incoherent mess, not to mention bodily injured. Now, most of his face—which had sported several gashes and bruises—was reduced to just a darkened shade of grey and some swelling below his right eye.

"I healed it," Sirius said. His voice was raspy and low.

Hermione cleared throat. "That…they'll know you performed underage—"

"No." He glanced at the ceiling. "There’re over a dozen house-elves performing magic here regularly. They won't know who performed a few healing spells."

They sat in silence. Hermione was at a loss of what to do. Should she speak to him? Comfort him? Ask him what happened? Why he showed up late at night at James's doorstep with two words etched nastily into his forearm and a battered face?

He was like a fuse waiting to blow out, and Hermione did not know what to do, or say, or think—and that frustrated her. Finally, she managed, “Do you want to get some sleep? I can set up a room for you.”

His shoulders sagging made her pause. Sirius blearily opened his eyes and stared at her. Then, slowly, he turned his attention to the arms over his stomach. He moved his forearm and stared blankly.

Blood Traitor.

Hermione swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat.

“Sirius,” she said softly. “You don’t have to talk about it, but if you do…I’m here. We’re all here for you.” Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and gently closed it around his. Slowly, he turned his hand to grasp her fingers. “They hurt you, didn’t they. Your family.”

“Yes.”

With the level of hurt inflicted on him, it was a wonder he’d managed to get away at all. Was this the event that prompted Sirius to run away from home?

Hermione’s gaze roved over at his face, and an indescribable emotion swelled in her that she’d felt only twice before.

Once, in her fourth year when Harry returned from the maze holding Cedric Diggory's body. The other, when she woke up in the Department of Mysteries to find Harry in hysterics after Sirius fell behind the veil.

She clamped down the urge to damn it all to hell and throw her arms around him, knowing it was probably not the wisest move in the book. Especially when Sirius was so out of it.

Hesitantly, Hermione extended her other hand. Pale fingers lightly grazed his cheek, and Sirius glanced up sharply.

"Come with me," said Hermione softly.

Gently, she guided him away from the tub and walked him out of the bathroom and down the hall. Biting her lip, they walked down one flight of stairs and Hermione led him to her own bedroom, where she had some first aid supplies.

On a better day Sirius would’ve found a way to poke fun of her bedroom in her room to poke fun about, but now, he slumped down onto her mattress and watched with hooded eyes as Hermione moved about her room quickly.

She bumped into the dresser hard and she bit back a curse. “Sorry. Not used to this room, yet.” She knelt down and pulled a trunk from under bed. Sirius watched curiously as she threw it open and sifted through it. She pulled out a large bag and dug inside, her arm literally disappearing as she fumbled around. After a few seconds she pulled out what she needed and rose to her feet. With a soft look, Hermione sat next to him and gently reached for his arm.

Sirius stiffened. Hermione shook her head. "It's to clean it, Sirius."

She reached for his arm again and this time he let her. She rolled up his sleeve and opened her free hand, which had strange little squares in them. She ripped one open and took out a small towel, and her eyes flickered up to meet his briefly.

"This will sting."

He barely had time to respond when she started to wipe away at the bloodied words inscribed on his arm, and he hissed.

"What the hell is that," he said suddenly, eyebrows knitted together as curiosity got the better of him. Hermione could not prevent the smile that flashed across her face.

"Alcohol prep wipes," she said simply. "Muggle things. Don't worry about it, they're very effective at sterilization and cleaning."

He did not say anything else, just watched her carefully clean his scarred forearm. Hermione had to admit that while Sirius must have been seriously injured, mentally, physically, and emotionally, it had not deterred from his abilities as a wizard when it came down to it. The healing spell he performed on himself was, for the most part, flawless. The inevitable part was the scarring, which Hermione thought she could definitely help with.

She leaned away from him and set the used wipes on her bedside table, then stood up.

"Can I trust you to stay here when I come back?" she inquired. Sirius's eyes flickered to hers for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be right back," she said quickly, and made a swift exit down the stairs to pick up the glass bottle she had dropped earlier. Bounding back up the staircase, Hermione reentered her room and found Sirius exactly where she left him. Taking a breath, Hermione sat by him again.

"If you don't mind," said Hermione carefully, "I have something that can heal the scarring."

Sirius glanced at the bottle with an unreadable expression.

"I don't want it healed.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Why?" Sirius shrugged. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "If this is your idea of bravery or—or masochism, that’s not a good reason."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her words. "Do I look like a masochist, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand.”

Sirius looked away and gazed into the distance. Hermione rolled the bottle lightly in her hand and sighed. She couldn’t force him to use the potion, but it still left her deeply puzzled. Everything about this night was leaving her deeply puzzled.

"Where's James?"

Hermione glanced at him. "He went to call on his parents.” Sirius nodded and then carefully began rolling down his sleeve. "Would you at least like me to help with what's left of the bruises?"

Sirius blinked in surprise, as if forgetting he even had them. "The ones on my face?"

Hermione frowned slightly. "Are there more?"

Sirius gave a noncommittal shrug. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“It does if you have a haematoma, Sirius.”

Hermione stood and retrieved her wand from her dresser, then sat next to him and motioned for him to turn to face her. He eyed her wand. “Not worried about the Ministry anymore?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. "With a dozen or so house-elves working here round the clock, a few healing spells won't attract too much attention."

She conjured a bowl of water and a cloth, and began by dabbing the dried blood from his face first. She felt like too much like her own mother when Hermione had been a child. Playing outside as a young girl always had its hazards, and she could not count the amount of times Hermione had returned home with a scraped knee or a splinter. The thought of her parents brought a flood of wistful feelings inside her. She did not even get to tell them goodbye…and she never would.

For someone who couldn’t sit still for longer than five minutes, Sirius was an awfully good patient. He was quiet as she cleaned him up, and if the alcohol stung, he said nothing of it.

She brought her wand to his face and with a flick of her wrist, reduced the swelling of his eye and slowly cleared the bruises from his face. The scars remained, as Sirius wanted, and within a few minutes he appeared in far better condition than what he arrived in. Satisfied, Hermione moved away and gazed at him appraisingly.

"I think that should do it," she muttered, eyeing him critically. She set her wand down and moved to toss the bloodied supplies out. Sitting back on the bed, Hermione hesitated.

"Are there…any other places where you're hurt?"

Sirius glanced at her. "It's not as bad."

“But…”

"It's nothing," Sirius said flatly. "Let it go."

Hermione pressed her lips together, nodding. “Do you want to go downstairs?”

"No."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. “I can bring James here instead.”

Sirius shook his head. Hermione lowered her eyes, and laced her fingers together.

"…Do you want to talk about it?"

She waited for a response, but he remained eerily quiet. It was so odd, seeing Sirius like this. Normally he was loud and filling the air with infectious laughter; even in anger he was cutthroat and direct. Seeing him so quiet was unsettling.

"I made a decision.” He broke the silence. “My family didn’t like it.”

Her brows furrowed at his words. He looked at her then, a mocking smile twisting his mouth. "The present they gave’s rather fitting."

Hermione stared at him with disbelief. “Today…today is your birthday?”

"December 18, 1959," said Sirius solemnly, and shrugged. "My sixteenth birthday could have been worse, mind you."

“Not hardly!” Hermione was incredulous. "I'm sorry if it offends in any way, but your family is mental. Absolutely, positively mental. What they did—what they've done—it’s unforgivable.”

"There's not much to tell," said Sirius distantly. "I never…I've never really been a part of the Black family. Like oil and vinegar. This…" he gestured to himself, then around him in nonchalance, "was going to happen eventually."

Hermione slowly digested his words. "You're not going back, are you?" She lifted her chin slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

Sirius looked at her in the eyes, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. "You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione."

Hermione did not know if that was said mockingly or earnestly, but frankly at this point Hermione did not care. Sirius was safe. The Potters would be back shortly. There was not much else she could ask for at this point.

"Look..."

Hermione's attention snapped back to Sirius and was surprised he was eyeing her apprehensively. "About...about how I’ve treated you this year."

"Sirius..."

"Just listen. There’s really no excusing it. I can own up to being a nob so I will—I’ve been a nob. You’re just trying to get on with your life, especially after…” Sirius swallowed thickly. “I'm just really sorry. A nob-end’s apology, for what it’s worth."

Hermione suppressed a smile and shook her head. “Thank you. Really.”

"Sirius?"

Both Sirius and Hermione glanced up to find James was standing anxiously by the door.

James stepped inside slowly, looking immediately at Sirius. "You alright there, mate?"

Sirius nodded, looking sullen. "Been better."

"Mum and Dad are on their way." James shifted uneasily on his feet. "You want to crash in your room? At least until they arrive, and then we'll head to St. Mung—"

"I'm not going to the hospital," Sirius cut him off.

James let out an incredulous laugh. "Sorry mate, but I don't think you have a choice this time."

"I don't need to. I'm healed, and I'm fine. Right Hermione?" Sirius looked at her directly. "You healed my bruises, and I healed my arm. It's alright."

Hermione shrank back a bit. "I…I don't think…"

"There, she agrees with me. You're going to the hospital," said James, and Sirius whirled back at his best friend.

"Don't put words in her mouth, James. She hasn't said anything yet!"

Hermione had a feeling this argument would only escalate further. Taking a shaky breath, she said, "Sirius is tired. Just…let him rest, for now. We'll figure the rest out later. Now please, Sirius, you need to go to bed.”

Sirius relented. “Fine.”

When he made to stand both James and Hermione grasped him by each arm. "You don't have to guide me like a duckling," said Sirius blandly, and Hermione fought not to immediately let him go, "I know my way around this house."

"Yes, well," mumbled Hermione, holding onto him even tighter. "I don't exactly trust your ability to stay upright."

"What indication did I give that makes you assume I can't walk?"

Hermione slanted an annoyed glance his way, then looked at James. “Is he always this stubborn?”

Dryly, James replied, “Worse.”

xxx

Mr. and Mrs. Potter arrived sometime at midnight, frantic and searching for Sirius, who was for the moment fast asleep in his bedroom. Coincidentally, Sirius's summer bedroom was across from hers. Hermione tried not to dwell on that.

She had awoken at the sounds of loud voices, and blearily stumbled down the hall to see a very resistant Sirius and a very enthusiastic Mrs. Potter with her arms wrapped around Sirius and hugging him tightly. He seemed to be vehemently refusing a trip to St. Mungo's.

"I’m—fine—” Sirius gritted his teeth, trying to wriggle out of Dorea’s hold.

“No you’re not—you could have a concussion!” Dorea insisted.

“Ask Hermione—I’m fine.”

All eyes turned to her.

"Er—well. Sirius healed most of his injuries before I got to him. And I checked his wounds—he’s mostly okay?”

Sirius gave a look of triumph and finally extracted himself from Dorea's embrace. "See? I’m alright.” Before anyone could stop him, Sirius muttered a goodnight and bolted upstairs.

The next day passed quickly, though perhaps more quietly than she presumed, what with Sirius staying with them. While the subject had not been broached yet, she knew it would be arriving soon; Sirius couldn’t avoid them forever.

Dinner was quiet. James sat across from her, Sirius was sitting on her left. The food was delicious, as it always was, but she could feel unease in the air. It made eating a distracting affair.

After ten minutes, Charlus set down his fork. He looked at Sirius.

"Son, I think it's time we spoke about what happened last night."

Sirius glanced between Charlus and Dorea. "Er…"

Dorea spoke softly. "Sirius, dear. We cannot even attempt to help you if we don't know what happened. Please," she said gently, "tell us."

Slowly setting down his knife and fork, Sirius leaned back against his chair. "There's…really not much to explain."

Charlus smiled patiently.

Sirius exhaled slowly. “It was my birthday yesterday. I was given an ultimatum for something I've been expecting. My family disapproved of my decision. They branded me, and I left." Defiantly, he added, "Permanently."

Charlus nodded shrewdly. "They've cut you off, I presume."

Sirius nodded. "I owled my uncle about what happened, and I got an answer this morning. I think he'll be coming by soon with my things."

At this, Charlus cracked a smile. "I always did like that man."

Dorea reached over to gently pat Sirius’s hand. "Sirius, you know that this house will always be your home." She looked at her husband who nodded in agreement. "We expect we don't really need to say it out loud, for you should already know, but just to be clear: you are welcome to stay here—permanently—if you so wish. We’re glad you came to us, sweetheart."

A genuine smile broke across Sirius’s face. "Thank you," he said honestly. The tension finally eased, and they resumed their dinner.

A loud knock on the door startled Hermione, and Sirius rose from his seat.

"That was bloody quick," he muttered under his breath and headed for the door. Hermione and James were the first to follow, watching Sirius open the front door.

"You're the bloody greatest, Uncle," Sirius said cheerily, then threw his arms around the man.

"Are you kidding? You managed to piss off more people than I did when I lived at Grimmauld Place," the man laughed, his voice tinkling with amusement.

Sirius pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. "You have my clothes?"

"And your school trunk," said the man with a wink. "Burgy was so happy to see me, she accidentally mixed a wine-pouring charm with crucio."

"Classy," said Sirius with obvious disgust. "Please, come in."

Sirius stepped back and Hermione was finally able to see the mysterious uncle at the door. If she recalled, it was the same uncle Sirius had wanted her to meet when she accidentally time-travelled to 1971. Surely enough, he was as jovial and charming as she imagined.

Sirius’s uncle exchanged a few words with the Charlus and Dorea, ruffled James's hair, and grinned when James tried to swat him. When he caught sight of Hermione, Sirius's came beside her. "I'm so sorry, I haven’t introduced you. Hermione, this is my Uncle Alphard. Uncle, this is my classmate Hermione Granger."

"The one you wrote about?" Alphard Black stared at her knowingly, and Hermione’s cheeks pinkened.

"Er—no. No, it’s, this is someone else.”

“Another Hermione? Well,” Alphard extended a hand, "a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. I am truly sorry you’ve had to put up with my nephew."

She shook his hand firmly, smiling. "The pleasure is mine, sir."

Alphard's eyebrows shot up in the air as he gave his nephew and hearty look. "Did you hear that, Sirius? ‘Sir’! I like this one. Did you—?”

"You must be tired, Uncle, please come eat with us." Sirius practically shoved Alphard away. Alphard glanced back at Hermione and gave her a wink.

A plate of food and a spot on the table were added quickly, and Alphard was seated beside James as dinner was resumed. Idle chatter filled the air, and Hermione glanced over at those seated at the table. James was in a heated debate with Alphard about a quidditch team and Charlus was quick to take the Alphard's side, much to James's annoyance. Her eyes wandered to Sirius, who was watching his uncle and smiling softly.

After a while when dinner had been finished, Alphard focused his attention to his nephew with a sobered expression “I presume you want to stay with the Potters for the remainder of your school years?"

"Yes," said Sirius. He frowned, hesitating. "Unless you want me to live with you?"

"I want you to do what you want to do, Sirius," he said calmly. "It's always been your better instinct so far. I'm just letting you know the option is always open. I know you have two of your friends here and I wouldn't want to take that away from you. You've been living under too many damn rules for the past sixteen years, and I sure as hell am not about to give you more."

Sirius smiled slightly at this. "Then I would like to continue to stay with the Potters. Until the end of my seventh year."

"Don't be silly," said Dorea sharply. "You can't be expected to graduate and have a job so quickly. You stay here as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," said Sirius politely, "but…it's something I have to do."

"I saw your name blasted off the old family tree,” Alphard continued. “You've been stripped of your inheritance, I presume?"

"Down to every last knut," Sirius admitted.

Alphard nodded, going silent. Then, “Come, now. I'll help get your trunks up to your room, Sirius."

"I can do it," James offered, already rising to his feet. Alphard placed his hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"I'd like to do it, my boy," he said gently, and James nodded slowly, slightly confused. He moved to Sirius's school trunk and gripped the handle. "Come, Sirius, bring up your bags."

Sirius gave a strange look and did as he was told, grabbing his bags and heading up the staircase behind his uncle. Hermione blinked, then looked at James.

"What was that about?" James asked her. Hermione shrugged.

Charlus sighed and rose from his seat. "We'll find out soon, enough, son. For now, I think it's best we start preparing for the Christmas party."

Those words immediately caught Hermione's attention. "The what?"

Charlus looked at her in confusion. "Has James not told you?"

Hermione shot a sour look at her sort-of kind-of brother.

James winced. "Oops?"

"This is what you've been hiding from me? Seriously?"

"To be fair, I thought it'd be a really good surprise when I woke you up on the twenty-third and threw you into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder."

"Floo—why would we need that?" Hermione looked at the Potters with unveiled consternation. "Are we going somewhere?"

Dorea looked at her fondly, and reached over to pat her on the head. "Oh yes, dear. You're going to love it."

Before Hermione could ask any more questions, the sound of loud steps down the stairs entered the hallway.

"Well, it was wonderful seeing you all again," said Alphard cheerily, running a hand through his cropped black hair, much like Sirius would. Alphard approached the door, but paused and turned to her.

"Keep an eye on him, dearie. He's rough with the things he cares for."

Blinking in surprise, she barely had a chance to give a proper farewell before Alphard Black was out the door.

Sirius came back down the stairs looking dazed. Hermione frowned and walked up to him in concern.

"Sirius, what happened?"

Sirius shook his head, his eyes barely focusing on her.

"It's my uncle…he just gave me his inheritance."

xxx

Hermione stifled a sigh as she finished brushing her teeth. Stretching wide, she trudged back into her bedroom and crawled to her bed, wishing for nothing more than entering the dream realm in a long, uninterrupted bout of sleep. Before she could even fluff her pillow, however, the door to her bedroom knocked.

"Come in," she said tiredly.

The door swung open silently and Hermione was surprised at her visitor. "Sirius?"

"Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Is…something the matter?"

Sirius shook his head quickly.

"You can sit if you like," she offered. He sat down immediately, and Hermione frowned. "Did something happen?"

Sirius looked at her for a moment before nodding. "It was a while ago, though."

Hermione was getting seriously confused. "Sirius, you're not making any sense."

He gave a slight chuckle and shook his head. "Yeah, I suppose I'm not." He sighed, and looked at her slowly.

"So…I know this may not be the best time to discuss this…but I mean, it's a giant bloody elephant in the room whenever we're in the same vicinity and I thought it was about time to clear it up. Especially if we'll be living together for next few years."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I'm not following."

Sirius's hand gripped her sheets in a tight grasp, and he let out a loose breath.

"I've been a nob."

"That again?" Hermione was puzzled. "You already apologized yesterday."

"Did I?" said Sirius, frowning. "Right...right, I did. But I was kind of out of my mind, so I thought I’d say it again. Whilst not out of my mind.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied. “Like I said before, thank you. And don’t worry about it.”

Sirius glanced at her with disbelief. "That's it?"

"Was there something else?"

"No, just—you accepted so quickly. I hadn't expected—"

"Listen," Hermione interrupted before he could go on. "I accept your apology. We've both had our bouts of unkindness towards each other. Let's just leave it at that."

"But that's not even true," said Sirius suddenly. "You've been nothing but kind since you've come here."

"I don’t always feel that way,” Hermione admitted. “But again, thank you.” When he didn’t immediately reply, Hermione tried a different tactic. "Sirius," she said quietly. His grey eyes to flicker down to hers. She took his hand gently. "Honestly. It's alright. I'm not one to hold a grudge. Not for too long, at least, and not for people who've said they're sorry several times now."

A small smile quirked the side of his mouth. "Alright, then.”

Hermione had thought coming to this time would mean staying hidden in the shadows and passing quietly through the years, destroying horcruxes as she found them. But it was a bitter life, a lonely life that Hermione knew she could not live with. Not after having friends like Harry and Ron. Not after that.

And there it was, the realization that that kind of solitude was never meant to be a life for her; she would always need someone to help her, to be her friend and support, to enrich her life.

And in this lifetime, it was the marauders.

"Tabula rasa," Hermione said suddenly.

Sirius's eyebrow went up. "Now I'm the one not following, love."

Hermione nodded, and squeezed his hand. "Everything is in the past now. This is us starting over with a clean slate."

"Tabula rasa," Sirius repeated slowly, rolling the words on his tongue as if testing it out. "I like the sound of that." He released her hand and held his out to shake hers properly.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Sirius Black. I have an affinity of being a git.”

Hermione’s shoulders shook as she took his hand. "Hermione Granger. I tend to be an insufferable know-it-all."

He started grinning, and Hermione could not help but join him. "Ah, but those are the best kinds, love," he said with a smile, and Hermione was not about to disagree with him.

xxx

"Honestly, is all this really necessary?" Hermione complained as she brought a trunk down the stairs with James hot on her heels.

"Trust me. If you don’t, and you realize that you should’ve, you’ll end up crying on me all night and then where would we be?”

"Sirius is hardly bringing anything with him." Hermione glanced at Sirius who was following behind them.

He gave a sleepy smirk. "That's because I know what to expect, love."

She barely had time to dwell on this before Dorea came rushing to her. She glanced over to James. "Is she ready? Does she have her things?"

"She does, actually," Hermione replied mildly.

"She's fine, mum," James replied, taking Hermione by the arm and guided her to the living room. He lowered himself to her ear and whispered, "Are you ready?"

She blinked up at him and replied, "For what?"

He seemed to have found her response amusing, for a deep chuckle left his throat. "Ah, sis. You'll see soon enough."

With a pinch of Floo powder, she found herself shoved in the fireplace.

"Now, repeat after me," said James seriously. "Number Six, Draper Court."

"Number Six, Draper Court," Hermione repeated slowly.

James’s face pinched up. "Bloody hell, woman, louder!”

"Number Six, Draper Court!" Hermione said loudly, and threw the powder down onto the fireplace. A mass of green flames erupted around her and her stomach dropped as she traveled through the Floo network.

Hermione staggered out of a new fireplace. When the smoke cleared, Hermioine’s mouth dropped.

Green flames ignited into the fireplace again, and she heard the voices of Dorea and James enter behind her.

"Bloody hell, looks like we've not got much to do this time around, right Mum?"

"Yes, yes," Dorea said distractedly, and walked promptly over to the dozen people working around in the giant room. "Emilia! Where are the crystal glasses?"

Quietly, James sidled next to her and pushed the bottom of her chin up, closing her mouth. "Glad you brought your trunk now, aren’t you?”

"This is more extravagant than the Yule Ball," she said in wonder.

"The what?" asked James curiously, but Hermione merely shook her head. She felt a rush of warmth behind her and heard Sirius's voice.

"Whaddimiss?" he yawned.

"Nothing but the expression of pure wonder," James replied.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, and gave James a pointed look.

"I'm going to have to wear a dress, aren't I."

Dorea’s head snapped up from across the room. "I completely forgot! You need a dress!"

Hermione suppressed a groan, but Dorea was already reaching inside her purse. "It's really not so formal. It's just something we like to do each year. Almost every family in the Ministry throws a Christmas party, but we like to do things a little differently.”

"What is it that you do?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well—" Dorea started enthusiastically, but James quickly stepped in.

"At-at Weren't you going to give Hermione something just now?"

Dorea blinked in surprise. "Oh! You're right my dear, these explanations can be told at a more prudent time," she turned to Hermione and handed her a thick leather pouch. "That's for you. There's some wizard money in case you can't find anything in the muggle shops.”

"Muggle shops? We’re not wearing dress robes?"

“Ah—no. Not quite. A regular dress will suffice, dear. Sirius," said Dorea, and Sirius looked up. "Could you please accompany Hermione? You know how it isn't safe for young girls walking through the city alone."

"Absolutely, Mrs. Potter," Sirius nodded, and flashed Hermione a grin as he stepped in the fireplace with her.

James looked slightly put-out. “Can’t I go too?”

"No you will most certainly not," said James's mother sternly, giving him a harsh look. "I need your help here."

"But—"

"James."

Giving the two of them a sour look, James followed his mother.

Hermione looked over to Sirius. "So, where exactly are we going?"

Sirius shrugged. "London, of course."

xxx

"When's the last time you've been here?" asked Sirius lazily as the two of them walked down a very busy sidewalk. Muggle London. The fashion was very distinct in the 70s; Hermione kind of liked it.

“James and I visited a few days ago." Hermione smiled sadly. "I used to come here with my mum. We’d have afternoon tea sometimes in one of the shops.”

"You lived in a muggle house, right?" Sirius asked eagerly. Hermione nodded. "What was it like?"

“What do you mean?"

"You know," he gestured incoherently, "what was it like, growing up in a muggle house with muggle things, doing everything the muggle way? It must have been so different."

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose. Just think of it as living without your wand. And your parents don’t have wands. Everything is either electric or by hand.”

"Tell me something," said Sirius with curiosity. "Anything. Like how you made your breakfasts with muggle devices."

Hermione laughed. "Sirius, I hate to say this but we're not that different." She shook her head, "Almost everything we do is the same. We still use pots and pans and soap to clean the dishes."

Sirius grinned and shook his head. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off as ignorant. I really just…I don't know, it fascinates me. Always has. That was probably the first indication to my parents that I was the wrong sort of Black."

“You’re not a wrong sort.” Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, we do have something called a toaster."

Sirius's eyes sparked with interest. "Toaster?"

"Mhm," Hermione nodded, looking at the street ahead of her. "It's a metal box with slits that you put bread slices into. It heats up the bread and then pops them out when they're fully toasted."

The wonder on Sirius's face was magnetic. “Blimey.” Hermione grinned, making Sirius pause. “You takin’ the mickey?”

“No, no, I swear I’m not.” Hermione sobered, but the smile still lingered. “You’re just too fun.”

His gaze lingered on her briefly. Clearing his throat, Sirius glanced around. "How’s that store?"

Hermione followed his gaze. “Sure.”

A bell chimed when Sirius opened the door for her. A girl at the door greeted them, her gaze lingering on Sirius. He gave her a passing look and walked away, but Hermione noticed the small, coy smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

Hermione looped her arm around Sirius's and dragged him away, causing him to look down at her in surprise.

"Is something wrong?"

"Don't even get me started," Hermione muttered darkly, releasing his arm when they were finally far away from the woman at the door. "Honestly. She’s twice your age."

"What?"

Hermione looked up at him sourly. "Oh, please. As if you don't know."

"I don't, actually," said Sirius blandly as he perused the aisles with her, hands brushing against the fabrics he passed.

Hermione shook her head. "The shop girl is staring.”

Sirius glanced behind and started smiling. "That’s what's bothering you?"

"I never said it was bothering me," said Hermione quickly, averting her gaze to the clothes hanging on the stands.

Sirius hummed beside her. "I wouldn’t worry, love. It’s just the shop girl." Hermione gave him a sharp look and started chuckling. "Honestly, Hermione. It doesn't bother me. I don't pay attention to it, and neither should you."

"How often does this happen?”

Sirius shrugged noncommittally.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You’re only sixteen. These women have no shame.”

Sirius shrugged, not giving her a definitive answer. "Can't blame the ladies for appreciating what's pleasing to the eye. Can't blame the gentlemen either." At Hermione’s look, Sirius sighed. "Don't think about this, Hermione. It's nothing. You should be worrying more about what you're wearing to the Christmas party."

Hermione let out a helpless groan. "I am rubbish at dress shopping. This will be torture.”

"You really never cared about clothes?”

"It's not that I didn't want to," Hermione retorted. "I simply didn't have time to. It seemed unnecessary."

Sirius  reached over and picked up a dress by the hanger. "What about this?"

Hermione turned to him and inspected the dress he was holding up for her. "That's actually…not bad," Hermione admitted, and took the dress from him. It was a pretty red dress that reached down to her knees, cut at an angle that was quite stylish. "I think I'll try it on."

Sirius beamed. “See, shopping’s not so bad. Go ahead and try it on.”

Hermione picked out three other dresses before heading to the dressing room, leaving Sirius sitting outside on a soft leather seat. She tried each on and stepped outside slightly to ask him what he thought, and was surprised when he gave actual, serious answers.

"If you could just tell me what people usually wear at this thing, I could narrow the search down," said Hermione with some irritation as she shucked off the creamy dress she had tried on. Through the door, she heard Sirius's lazy reply.

"Love, you don't want to know what the other people wear at this thing. Trust me, you're doing it right so far."

"Right," she muttered, glancing at the red dress. With a sigh she slipped through it, and zipped the side quickly before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

What she saw was…quite nice.

"Well," Hermione breathed, turning to her side a little. "I guess you're the one."

Hermione quickly changed back into her clothes and held the red dress under her arm as she approached Sirius. He seemed surprised.

"You're not going to show me that one?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, smiling mysteriously. "Don't want to spoil the surprise."

Hermione paid for the dress and the two finally exited the store. Sirius paused beside her. "Do you mind? I need to use the loo."

"Of course not," she replied, and leaned against the bricks of the building as Sirius reentered the clothing store.

Sighing quietly, Hermione gazed at the walking figures all around, and could not help but realize how…normal everything felt now. For the longest time she did not believe she would be able to truly adjust, to feel like she belonged in this era. But now…

"Don't run so fast, Charlie!"

It was as if ice had slipped through her veins and traveled all throughout her body. Frozen in shock, Hermione could only stare at the figures approaching.

A little boy, no more than three, was darting toward the shop she had just purchased a dress from. Behind him a slightly older boy followed quickly. Charlie's legs seemed to have moved faster than he could, and he quickly collided into Hermione's shins. She knelt down and helped him up gently, and the older boy touched his shoulder and asked him if he was alright.

A woman with flaming red hair ran to catch up with her children, slightly out of breath. "Bill, make sure he doesn't try to run again, I don't want him to get hurt."

"Yes mummy," the elder replied dutifully, and firmly grabbed little Charlie's hand.

Hermione watched as they approached the door she reached over and held it open for them. The boys rushed inside, and the woman who she knew quite well to be Molly Weasley gave her a grateful smile.

"Thank you, dear," Molly said gratefully, giving her a gentle smile.

Hermione nodded wordlessly as the red-headed witch disappeared in the store.

The door bells chimed, and Sirius stopped in front of her. "You ready to go?" he asked, and Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Opening them again, she looked up at Sirius and smiled.

"Yes. Let's go."

xxx

Seeing Molly Weasley had been like a rush of cold water; a moment of clarity. After the Christmas party, Hermione was determined to stop by Diagon Alley and purchase the dark magic books she’d seen there.

The night passed quickly, and Christmas Eve had arrived in full steam. The party was set, the massive hall that the Potters brought her to now fully prepared for the evening. It seemed that they owned this extravagant hall, and held nearly all their parties and events here like the nobility she knew they were.

A loud rap in the door of the bathroom brought Hermione's attention away from the mirror she was facing. "In a minute.”

"Merlin's pants, Hermione,” James said through the door. "The guests are already arriving!"

"Alright, alright!" Hermione looked at herself again, hands running through the mass of curls framing her face. She had attempted to tame them down, and managed a slightly less frizzy look. Sighing, she pinned one side and then finally stood, giving a good look at the dress.

James was rapping on the door again and Hermione finally threw it open. James stilled.

"Holy hippogriff," was all he managed to say, and reached out to pull down on one of her springy curls, which bounced back up immediately. James grinned. "Springy. Nice dress.”

“You can thank Sirius for that. You’ve dressed sharply,” Hermione noted.

"That's because he has a certain green-eyed genius to impress." Sirius's voice entered the conversation as she saw him walk out of another bathroom. He turned to look at Hermione and he paused. "You were right. I rather like being pleasantly surprised."

She smiled slightly. James rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around hers.

"Yes, yes, you two can stare at each other all you want, as long as it's downstairs. Let's go," James urged, and walked down the large hallway towards the stairs. Hermione glanced up at Sirius.

"What you said before—do you mean that Lily is going to be here?"

Sirius nodded. "Oh yes. James has been very excited—you can't tell though, he's trying very hard to be cool—"

"Shove it, Sirius," said James.

Hermione continued, “Either way, I'm glad I'll get to see her. I've missed her.”

The descent down the staircase brought a wave of uplifting music and the cool chill of winter. What was once an empty hall was now a decorated, extravagant display of ice and crystal and silver, and a large ornate tree stood at the very center. She was immediately met by Remus and Peter, who had cleaned up rather nicely as well. Remus looked a little worse for wear, with shadows lingering under his eyes. But what his appearance lacked his enthusiasm made up for, and she reveled in the hearty embrace he gave her when she reached the bottom of the steps.

"You look lovely, Hermione," said Remus excitedly, his exuberant energy thinly veiled as Sirius and James clapped him on the shoulders. She knew he was itching to talk with his best friends, so Hermione kept it brief.

“Do you know if Lily’s here?”

"I think I saw her near the tree," he answered and Hermione nodded, leaving the friends to catch up.

Sirius had not been exaggerating when he mentioned the bizarre getup everyone would wear. Dorea Potter's policy, it seemed, was a muggle-themed party; or at least, the attire was. And so all the witches and wizards were required to dress in muggle dresses and muggle tuxedos, and while the men had a slightly easier task at hand, it was the women that wore the most…interesting variety of clothes.

Hermione spotted a flash of red hair and made a beeline for it. Lily wore a modest and snug green dress. When she spotted Hermione, she smirked.

"And here I thought I wouldn't see you until the beginning of term," said Lily dryly.

Hermione hid a smile. "Sorry to disappoint."

"How've you been so far?" Lily asked. "Potters treating you well?"

"Very," Hermione said firmly. "It's lovely. I'm lucky to count them as family."

"I'm glad," Lily said genuinely. Grinning, she added. "Where's that oaf of a brother of yours, then? I'm surprised he hasn't sought me out and sung a sonnet yet."

Hermione laughed. "He's with Sirius and the rest. I'm sure you'll see him eventually."

Lily glanced at her wryly. "Well it's not like I'm waiting for it, you know; I'm just surprised. He pulls some kind of stunt every year during this party, each of which earns him a well-deserved kick."

"I wouldn't say every year, Evans," a voice sauntered towards them, and Lily turned to see James walking toward her.

Her eyebrows rose high. "My, my. Looks like you finally figured out how to wear that thing."

"It was bound to happen eventually," he said easily. The music changed, and there was an immediate shift in atmosphere as several dozen people headed to the dance floor. "Would you accompany me with the first dance?"

"Last time you stepped on all my toes," said Lily bluntly.

"I've had lessons since," said James mildly. He held out his hand, and Hermione had to give him credit where it was due. He was much more like his normal self, as he was around her and the rest of the Marauders. He was not flaunting his attraction to her, and Lily seemed to notice. Without a hint of a smile, Lily placed her hand in his.

Hermione watched as the two walked to the floor and danced suavely. James certainly had not been lying about having lessons.

"Young love is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

Hermione turned to the voice, and her eyes rounded at the woman who stood beside her. She held out her hand kindly. "I never got to properly ask you for your name that day," the red-headed woman said with a smile. "I'm Molly Weasley."

"Hermione Granger," replied Hermione, slightly dazed as she shook the woman's hand. She should have known that the Weasleys would be attending this party, especially if it was muggle-themed. "Your children were very adorable when I saw them earlier."

"I'd say," she said with a grin, and Hermione did not realize just how truly young this Molly was. Her face was not marred by years of resilient hard work, raising her children and defending them. She was younger, livelier. It was heartbreaking. "I've got another on the way. My husband and I are thinking of calling him Percy."

"Congratulations,” Hermione offered a smile.

"Come, let me introduce you to my husband—Arthur! Arthur, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Arthur Weasley wore mismatched pants and a blazer with similar flaming red hair. He beamed at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you," said Arthur kindly. "Dorea was just telling us about you."

"She did?”

"Oh, yes, yes! Heard you were muggleborn, and I must say I was pleased to hear so. Tell me, do you know how ecksalators work?"

"Er…"

"Honey, I doubt she knows these things, even for a muggleborn," said Molly gently. Her face instantly turned perplexed. "Charlie! That's not food! Put that down!"

With a quick apology the two Weasleys departed, leaving Hermione alone.

Hermione blinked rapidly. Overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed.

She strode toward an empty chair and sat down, breathing deeply through her nose as she attempted to clear her thoughts. Meeting people she knew from her own time was inevitable, and definitely unavoidable. She knew it was going to happen.

So why did this hurt so much?

She needed to stop blaming herself. Of course she was having trouble seeing the Weasleys. For six years she had gotten to know them and their children. They were her second family.

Everything was different now. She’d never be their friend. A kind aunt, maybe. But nothing like before.

A shadow fell over her. Sirius was staring at her dubiously. "You alright?”

Hermione sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"What for, love? For sitting?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It just seems to be the right thing to say at any occasion."

Sirius took a seat beside her, staring off into the hall. "Just let it all sink in slowly," he said finally. Hermione glanced at him. "Enjoy the evening while you can. It only happens once a year."

Hermione looked away, and saw Molly holding up her youngest son in her arms with a smile. Her eyes wandered over to Remus and Peter, who were both chatting with several other people, and then finally to James and Lily, who were surprisingly still dancing.

Hermione looked at Sirius suddenly. "Would you like to dance?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Really?” At Hermione’s persistent stare, he shrugged. “Why not? So long as you don't step on me with those heels."

Hermione looked down in dismay. "It's barely an inch!"

His smile turned wicked. "Now you know you walked right into that one."

Hermione groaned at as they walked onto the dance floor, and placed her hand on his shoulder. They swayed with the music, and Hermione smiled up at him. "Should I be surprised that you're good at this?"

"Absolutely not," said Sirius firmly. "You'll find that I am, in fact, good at everything."

Hermione snorted. "Such as?"

A smirk flitted across his face. "You'll just have to keep guessing." He sighed slightly, and looked up. "I do enjoy this song."

"You know what it is?" said Hermione with surprise.

"I wasn't called a rebel back home for nothing, you know," said Sirius wryly. "I would be dishonoring my reputation as a leather jacket-wearing miscreant if I couldn't recognize Bohemian Rhapsody when I heard it."

"Aren't you full of surprises," said Hermione with a small smile.

"Get to know me, love, and you might find something you like."

xxx

"The presents should already be under the tree…we could always…"

"No." Sirius and Hermione said simultaneously as they stepped out of the fireplace and back into the living room of the Potter house.

"I'm going straight to sleep," said Hermione, taking note of the time. Two o'clock in the morning.

"That sounds like a plan," mumbled Sirius, trailing behind her as she forced her way up the stairs.

Hermione trudged to her room and threw her shoes on the floor. With a last shred of strength, she slipped out of her dress and threw an oversized shirt over her head. She was just reaching for her pajamas when the door knocked.

"Hermione, you left this on the bathroom," said Sirius as he held out a small purse to her.

Hermione gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem." He flashed a grin, and his eyes flickered down. "Put on some clothes, you silly—"

His words died on his lips, his eyes staring at her leg. Hermione frowned.

"What?"

Her eyes flickered to his, and then to her legs…and then she knew.

Sirius looked up at her, eyes swirling with an unreadable expression. His face was a myriad of confusion and recognition, and suddenly Hermione felt trapped.

"That scar," he said. "I know that scar. On your knee."

Hermione turned away and quickly shrugged into her pajamas. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said dismissively. "Everyone has scars."

"Not ones like that."

"I'm tired, Sirius," said Hermione, and turned to him slowly. "Please, I need to get some sleep."

"Why are you avoiding it?" Hermione watched him as he drew closer to her. "Let me see it again."

"No." Hermione turned to her bed.

"Let me see it, Hermione."

"No, Sirius! Go to sleep, you're very tired," she was about to pull her covers back when Sirius grabbed her arm and whirled her around, causing Hermione to gasp.

"You know!" he said incredulously. "You know, and you know I recognize it. I recognize you." He shook his head, and narrowed his eyes. "I didn't believe it at first when I saw you. You looked so much like her. And now I know why."

For the first time in a long time, fear was burrowing in her heart. Her eyes were wide as she stared into grey eyes, her heart thundering under her chest.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Was it so bad that he knew?

Her mind automatically replied to the distant thought. He's not ready to know yet.

But it was too late. She had slipped, and by something she did not even think Sirius would remember. And now, she did not know what to do.

She tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was not having any of it. Her wand was on her dresser, much too far away for her to try anything. Not that attacking Sirius Black was something she ever wanted to do.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Despair was filling inside of her, and she spoke against her better judgment. "Please," she whispered to him desperately. "Please."

His eyes narrowed, but paused when James showed up at the door. "Why are you two still awake?" asked James blearily. He looked at Sirius and Hermione, frowning. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione looked up at him then, her eyes pleading with his. He stared at her for a long moment, before slowly releasing her arm and stepping back from her.

"Just saying goodnight to Hermione," said Sirius, and headed to the door. James shrugged and left, and Sirius placed his hand on her door before turning around to meet her in the eyes.

"Tomorrow, you're going to tell me who you are," he said softly. "And if not, then that's okay. I have the next two years to find out."

He closed the door behind him, and never before had Hermione felt more uneasy.

Chapter 9: The Leaky Cauldron

Chapter 9

The Leaky Cauldron

The soft halo of early dawn emanated from the window, casting dark blue and pink shadows inside the bedroom. Hermione hardly took notice.

There were many things she wanted to do; so many things she had to do. Find the horcruxes. Figure out how to destroy them. Attempt to be an Animagus. Stop Voldemort. Save the world.

It sounded ridiculous when she listed it in her head like that. How could one person be expected to do this?

Was this how Harry had felt?

Hermione had felt that, at the time, she'd understood him. She was always looking at the bigger picture, though; she tried to show Harry that it was meant to be, it was meant to be him. He had saved the Sorcerer's Stone, killed a basilisk, and destroyed Tom Riddle's diary; he fought off a hundred dementors, battled with Voldemort during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and fought in the Department of Mysteries all by the time he was fifteen. How could that even be possible? How, for someone still learning in Hogwarts, could so much expectation, so much responsibility, be placed on a boy not even of age?

Hermione realized she never understood Harry at all. Nobody had. She was just glad that she was there for him when he needed her, glad that she could alleviate some of his burden when the time called for it. She only wished she had the same.

Sleep evaded Hermione the entire night. What was once bone-deep lethargy was now a whirlpool of fear and anxiety. Everything, everything just had to go wrong when regarding her. It would have made her laugh, if it did not have such serious implications.

The dress she had worn just hours ago was still lying on the floor. She sat on the bed, her back against the wall, facing the window above her desk, and her mind simply refused to stop thinking.

What to do, what to do.

The holidays were winding down to an end. After next week she would be back at Hogwarts, with about as much work on the horcrux completed since she arrived at the Potter residence. There were several things she had to see to, to work on, but all of it required for Hermione to be on her own outside without an escort, something she was certain Dorea Potter would simply not allow.

Her thoughts turned to Sirius.

Should she tell him the truth? It was unavoidable now, right?

The thought made Hermione cringe. He would be devastated. And judging from the emotional wreck Sirius had been these past few months, she doubted Sirius could handle the truth. That his best friends were killed. That he was incarcerated for twelve years. That he was killed right in front of his godson …

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and drew her knees closer to her chest. No. He was not ready for that. She needed time, but he needed closure. What could she do?

Her thoughts came to a halt when the sound of a tapping against her window drew her attention. Blinking wearily, Hermione squinted through the hazy darkness and saw an owl pecking insistently at the glass. Frowning, Hermione rushed to the window and unlatched it, gently stroking its dark feathers then untied the letter from its leg.

It gave a calculating hoot, silken black feathers ruffling importantly, and jumped off into the night air, leaving Hermione slightly dazed as she watched it disappear from sight. Furrowing her brow, she stared at the unmarked letter in her hands and quietly closed the window.

It was light in her grasp but the paper felt finer than normal parchment. Shaking her head, she opened it and took out a single slip of paper.

Her eyes widened as she read the succinct words.

I found you.

Now it's your turn. Leaky Cauldron, tonight.

The handwriting was neat and flourished, and a little insignia was stamped on the back. Hermione shook her head. He didn't even bother writing his initial, knowing full well that Hermione would recognize the letter from him. Smarmy toad.

Breathing in deeply, Hermione folded the letter and placed it inside the drawer of her desk.

xxx

"You seem quiet today, Hermione."

Sirius lifted his eyes from his plate of breakfast, giving Hermione a fleeting glance before reaching over to the glass of orange juice and taking a large swig. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Just…just tired from last night."

Feeling uneasy, Hermione finished quickly and stood, picking up the dishes as she pushed in her chair.

"Oh, darling, you really don't—" Dorea started.

"It's fine," Hermione replied quickly, flashing a smile. Without another word, she went straight to the kitchen and greeted the house elves, putting the dishes in the sink. Normally she would have washed them herself, but to spare the house elves from burst into tears, she resisted.

Her mind kept racing with how to get out of the house. She needed to not only go to the Leaky Cauldron, but Diagon Alley as well. Maybe just asking would work? It seemed to work well for James.

"Damn," she muttered as she went to leave the kitchen, "Damn, damn, damn—oh! Hello." Hermione jumped when the door swung open to reveal Sirius holding his own plate.

"'Lo," he said, setting his plates on the counter.

"Hi." An awkward silence followed. "Er, I'll just—be going."

As she strode past him his fingers lightly circled her wrist, stopping her.

"Hermione." His voice was quiet. His eyes penetrated hers, and Hermione swallowed thickly.

"Don't," she said softly.

"Really?" Sirius stared at her with disbelief. "Still?"

"Please."

Sirius exhaled, then released her wrist. She could feel his stare burning the back of her head as Hermione scuttled out of the kitchens, her heart pounding.

God, what should she do?

xxx

"You okay there, mate?"

Sirius did not bother opening his eyes, his hands folded behind his head as he lay on his bed. "Yeah, mate. Peachy."

"You don't look it." Sirius felt the mattress jump as James sprawled next to him boisterously. "Let me guess. It's about Hermione."

Sirius peeled an eye open. "Shut it."

"I knew it. You can't hide anything from me." James smiled triumphantly.

Sirius closed his eye again, heaving a sigh. "I'm just thinking, James. Don't get too excited."

"Thinking about what?"

"I'll let you know when I've figured it out."

James sighed and let it go, sliding off the bed. He'd known Sirius long enough to know when he was in his moods, and that there was no point trying to talk to him.

Finally left alone to think, Sirius returned his thoughts to the witch across the hall.

Who was Hermione Granger?

"Tell you what," said James suddenly, catching Sirius's attention. "There's a fresh layer of snow out today. I'll owl Remus and Peter, and we can sled down Riker Street. What do you say?"

Sirius almost said no, but frankly a little distraction would be nice. And James was going out of his way to make Sirius feel better. "Sounds like a plan mate." Sirius paused, glancing out the door. "Maybe Hermione'd like to join us."

James brightened. "I'll ask."

Sirius slipped quietly off the bed and padded behind James. He leaned against the doorjamb to James's bedroom, watching him knock on Hermione's door.

Hermione opened it. "James?"

"We're going sledding. Wanna come?"

Her eyes flickered to Sirius's. Indecision briefly flashed in them before Hermione smoothed it away. "Oh thank you, but I'm not feeling well today. Maybe another time?"

"Really?" James said with disappointment.

Hermione winced. "Sorry."

"'S'alright. We'll see you later, then."

James turned and clapped Sirius on the shoulder. "I'll owl Remus and Peter. Could you pull out the sleds from the closet?"

"Sure," Sirius replied. He pushed off the doorjamb, gaze lingering on Hermione's.

"You're sure?" said Sirius, his tone layered with meaning.

Hermione's throat bobbed convulsively. "I'm sure."

Without another word, she closed the door.

xxx

Once James and Sirius left the house, Hermione rushed to her desk and pulled a sheet of parchment from the drawer, along with a quill and ink bottle, and threw them in a small purse. She took out Regulus's letter and contemplated it. Should Hermione destroy it? Though it had no name or label, the handwriting and family insignia was a dead giveaway.

Her hand moved to tear it apart, but a small thought stilled her hands. What if she needed this as some sort of proof, once she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron? Slytherins were very particular, and the letter held importance. Biting her lip, Hermione tucked it inside her purse. With a snap she closed it and set the bag on her table.

When she was ready, Hermione crept downstairs to talk to Dorea. She was sitting in the parlor, a cup of tea in her hands and a book splayed open her lap. Dorea noticed her and smiled. "Hermione!"

"Dorea," she greeted kindly. Mustering a look of calm, Hermione asked, "I need some supplies for the new term, and I was wondering if I could go to Diagon Alley today?"

Dorea blinked. "Yes, of course. Anything you need, darling." She frowned. "But Sirius and James have already left…"

"I can go by myself," Hermione said quickly. "I know London quite well."

Dorea shook her head. "No, no dear. It's too dangerous to go unaccompanied in this climate. Especially you, dear. No, I'm afraid you cannot go without an escort."

Hermione's heart sank, when Dorea suddenly smiled. "I will come with you."

"Er—it's really no problem. You don't have—"

"Nonsense. You said you needed some supplies, we shall get you supplies. Let me just put on my cloak and scarf, dear, and we'll go together." Dorea smiled widely, setting down her things and leaving the parlor.

"Alright," said Hermione half-heartedly, and she went up to her bedroom feeling more dreadful than before.

xxx

Hermione glanced around nervously as Dorea led the way inside Diagon Alley. "I've been meaning to get a pair of self-pruning shears for some time now…do you think they would have them at Malkin's?"

"It's possible," said Hermione weakly as she trailed behind Dorea.

"I haven't been successful in finding those blasted shears, and I've been looking for ages now—may as well enchant a pair of my own and be done with it! But Charlus, bless his heart, reminds me far too often that our contribution to society depends on purchasing from vendors here."

Hermione nodded absently as they passed the Leaky Cauldron. Was he already there? How was she to divert herself from Dorea?

Clearing her throat, Hermione said loudly, "I'll be in the paper shop down there to get some things. I'll meet you by Madam Malkin's in an hour?"

Dorea glanced at her briefly and nodded. "Of course dear. Believe me, I understand—being seen with family can be embarrassing—"

"I'm not embarrassed," Hermione frowned, a wash of guilt running through her. Damn you, Regulus…

"Thank you, dear." Dorea patted Hermione gently on her left cheek and walked away, disappearing in the large crowd of wizards and witches.

Hermione sighed, quickly going inside the supplies shop and purchasing a few rolls of parchment and a new bottle of ink for good measure. Hermione checked the time. Quarter to five. It was already dark outside. Hermione clenched her hands together.

"Okay," she murmured to herself. "Okay." Steeling herself, Hermione entered the Leaky Cauldron.

The dimly lit pub was unusually packed. She heard the clanging of glasses and loud cheers, and more than once she tripped as she moved through the throng of bodies. She searched for Regulus but was coming up short.

"Seriously?" Hermione gritted her teeth. "How long am I supposed to—" she trailed when she heard a familiar loud voice.

"Told you she ain' coming," Scabior said a few paces away from her. He slung his arm over another boy sitting beside him— it was Regulus. "Fickle creatures, girls. Fancy 'em and—"

"I don't fancy her," Regulus growled, shoving off the arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah and me mum is an eight-legged horse—"

"Why are you even here, Scabior? I didn't ask for you to join me."

"Don't need to ask. I got senses of a snake," Scabior tapped the side of his head. "And I knew you was up to something. You know how Avery gets when you run off on your own."

"He's not my keeper, and neither are you," Regulus hissed. Hermione, having heard enough, stepped forward and cleared her throat.

Both heads shot up to look at her, and Scabior's face split into a wide grin. "Aye, you made it!"

"I'm not here for long," said Hermione brusquely. "And I'm here to speak with Regulus."

"I knew that," Scabior shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a little extra company, though—"

"She means leave, Scabe. Now."

Scabior gave a mock-hurt look to Regulus and rolled his eyes. "Right, a lad knows when he's not wanted…" He rose from his seat and slinked away, shooting an amused glance as he settled himself on a nearby bar stool.

"You can sit," said Regulus bluntly. Hermione shot him a glare and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. "I didn't think you'd come, actually."

"Why is that?"

"Dunno. After what's happened, I don't know what to expect anymore."

Hermione frowned at the cryptic words. "Look, I can't stay for long. Why did you bring me here?"

"You want to know things. I want to know things. I thought you'd be happier to talk outside of Hogwarts."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No, it's more than that. Knowing what I do, being caught with a muggleborn in a pub would look very badly on you right now."

An uneasy look flickered on his features before Regulus smoothed it away. "I'm very careful. And besides, you can't fault me for wanting a little fun."

"Could you be more cryptic? And stop treating me like—like your personal brand of amusement. It's weird."

"But you are." Regulus spread his hands like it was a title of a film. "Hermione Granger: Gryffindor in disguise."

Hermione blinked. "You keep saying that. Why?"

"I know a lot more than you think," Regulus leaned towards her, propping his elbow on the table. "Not just anyone meddles with Dark magic. You're no Gryffindor—by choice, maybe, but not in your heart."

Hermione suppressed an eye roll. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"Do you? You never answered me before—you saw what that necklace could do by the lake. You knew it was no ordinary magic. You said nothing."

Hermione pressed her mouth in a thin line. "I said nothing because I covered for you. Stupidly, I'm realizing." At his persistent stare, Hermione relented, "And because there's an explanation behind that necklace. One I'm still waiting for, by the way. Curiosity doesn't mean I enjoy the black arts."

"What will you do once I tell you?" Regulus's voice was challenging. "Tell Dumbledore? Smear my name?"

"No," said Hermione, quietly. "I will make you realize how dangerous this game is you're playing."

Regulus threw back his head and laughed. "Granger, my own brother couldn't sway me. You think you can?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

Regulus paused. Slowly his eyes hardened and his upper lip curled into a sneer. "Indeed."

xxx

"I think this sled is faulty."

"No," Sirius yawned, "you're just the dingus who thought sledding through a mountain of snow would be a good idea. Dingus."

James groaned as he staggered to his feet, brushing the snow from his face. Sirius was leaning against an adjacent tree with his arms folded over his chest, smirking. "Remus, Sirius is being mean. Do something."

Remus, who'd watched exchange with Peter, gave a shrug. "He has a point."

Peter and Sirius chuckled. "You too?" James sulked. "Next time Hermione has to be here. Even the scales with how many of you get to be an arsehole to me."

"Why didn't she?" Remus wondered.

James shrugged. "Said she wasn't feeling well." He frowned suddenly. "Blimey. Maybe we shouldn't have left her alone? She's been through a lot and—"

"Nah, she wanted to be alone," Sirius replied quietly.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "There's that face again."

Sirius glared. "There's no face."

"No. We know that face," Remus agreed. "You're perseverating on something and not telling us."

Sirius rolled his eyes and looked away. "It's nothing. Honestly. I probably look like this because James managed to bang up an enchanted sled. Which is supposed to be impossible."

"It was meant to go up the snow pile, not through it!"

As the argument started again, Sirius stared at the snow as his boot dug through it idly, his thoughts churning.

xxx

"That's ridiculous."

"It's not."

"Are you hearing yourself? I thought Blacks were supposed to be clever."

"We are; I am."

Hermione snorted. "From what you just told me? I doubt it."

"You think this is funny?"

"You don't?"

Regulus pounded his fist on the table, causing Hermione to jump in her seat. "You will take me seriously," he hissed.

Hermione's amused look quickly darkened to a scowl. "You can't tell me what to do, or how to feel. What you told me is utter insanity, and I'm being honest about it."

"This is how it has been for centuries," Regulus said frustratedly. "I am following the path of providence and creation."

"You're following the path to you death. You used black magic." Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper so none could overhear them. "Your stupid experiment with the damned necklace was your rite of passage, and you nearly died trying to achieve that!"

"You're being dramatic," said Regulus in a bored tone, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm being realistic. Nothing is worth dabbling in hateful magic. It's corrupting, Regulus."

"And what do you care if I am corrupted? Why are you trying to redeem me?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "I can't redeem you. I hardly know you. But you're young and you still have choices. You need to remember that."

Regulus stared at her for a long while. Something shifted in his gaze. "How is my brother?"

Hermione sighed quietly. "He's alright now. He wasn't when he arrived." Regulus looked away with a thoughtful look. "What did they do to him?" Hermione asked carefully. "Why was he so hurt?"

Regulus looked at her slowly. "They gave him a choice," he answered softly. "One that every Black family member has made. One that will be asked of me as well. And Sirius…" he trailed off, closing his eyes. "He chose the side they did not like."

Hermione bit her lip. It was exactly what Sirius had said. "And after knowing all this," said Hermione finally, "after knowing just how utterly insane this is…you're still going to go for it?"

Regulus traced idle patterns on the wooden table. "It's all I know."

Hermione suppressed a long-heaving sigh.

Maybe if she had more time, she could have gotten more information from Regulus and his bewitched necklace (although at this point she felt she knew everything she needed to), but she would never find out; for right then, Scabior drew towards their table in the corner of the pub and drummed his fingers along the wooden top. "Time's up, Reggie. We have to go."

Regulus nodded and stood. "Another time, Granger. I have a feeling you are not completely satisfied."

"I could say the same for you," said Hermione loftily.

As Regulus turned to leave, Scabior gave her a fleeting look, a small smile tugging in the corner of his mouth. "I'll be seeing you soon."

"I hope not," Hermione smiled sweetly.

Hermione waited until they left. Quickly she stood up, straightened her cloak. It was nearly six, and she feared she had stayed too long in the Leaky Cauldron. As she walked into the chilled air, she squinted to search for Dorea Potter.

A hand clamped around her shoulder, and Hermione turned around. "There you are!" Dorea said in relief. "I've been looking for you for five minutes, dear. Do you have everything you needed?"

"Yes," replied Hermione with a small smile. "Yes, I believe I have."

"Well come quickly then, dear! It isn't safe to be out in the dark like this."

The journey back home was quick and uneventful. Hermione sagged in relief when she stepped out of the fireplace, stripping off her cloak and wet socks, and collapsing against the sofa. Dorea chuckled and took off her emerald cloak as well, hanging it on the stand to dry.

Just then the door swung open, and in marched James and Sirius with equally weary expressions. "Mum, I'm starving," complained James as he flung off his cloak and heavy snow boots. "When do you think supper will be ready?"

"In a few, love, we've only just arrived as well," Dorea sighed tiredly, taking a seat beside Hermione.

"You went out?" asked Sirius, eyeing Hermione. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, Hermione needed some things from the shop. Quills and inks—you know. Oh, Hermione," said Dorea, shifting to face her. "You did get the Everlasting Ink, right?"

"O-oh, I'm not sure—"

"Show me then; if we go back tomorrow we'll still get a discount if we return it…"

Hermione nodded and withdrew her pack, fumbling inside and reaching for the boxed ink bottle. She took it from her purse quickly, not noticing a small slip of paper falling out and tumbling to the floor.

Dorea inspected the box and nodded. "Good. This will do well over the year. Now," Dorea handed the box back to Hermione and rose from her seat, "I will ring up the house-elves, and tell them to prepare for our next meal. You three get yourselves cleaned up; I don't want mud tracks all over my carpet."

They nodded in unison and Hermione quickly retreated upstairs. Shaking his head, Sirius began to head towards the stairs as well, when a sliver of fallen paper on the ground caught his eye. Frowning, Sirius walked towards it and bent down, grasping it between his long fingers and flicking the folded paper open.

Frowning, Sirius folded the slip of paper and tucked it inside his pocket.

xxx

Dinner was quiet. Charlus came in from work early and together they dined amiably. Hermione was incredibly nervous. Sirius made no move or indication that he was going to ask her about the scar again since the kitchen, and that made her even more nervous. He should've said something. Been angry. Mean. Something.

Losing her appetite, Hermione bid everyone goodnight and headed to her room.

Less than fifteen minutes passed before a quiet knock sounded on the door. Hermione's heart pounded. This was it. The conversation she'd been expecting.

Maybe if she feigned sleep he would go away? Scrunching her eyes closed, Hermione waited for him to leave. "I know you're awake, Hermione."

Cringing, Hermione slipped off the bed and opened the door. Sirius was leaning against the frame, his hands in his pockets. "Sirius," said Hermione softly.

Sirius nodded. "Are you gonna let me in?"

Biting her lip, Hermione opened the door to allow him in. He sauntered in slowly, and Hermione shut the door behind him. Sirius was inspecting her table, picking up things at random and tossing it lightly in the air before setting it back down. Hermione sat down on her mattress, waiting.

"So." Sirius out her swiveling chair and sat down. "We need to talk."

Hermione bit her lip. "Do we really?"

Sirius shook his head. "C'mon, Hermione. I've given you time. I've seen the scar—don't try denying you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm not daft. I saw the look on your face when I recognized it."

"And…where exactly did you recognize it?" Hermione asked lightly, and immediately wished she hadn't.

Sirius's gaze sharpened. "In Diagon Alley, four years ago. You knee was banged up." A thread of vulnerability entered his voice. "You were nice to me." His gaze hardened. "And I watched you disappear in an alley. You look the same. Just the same."

Hermione's throat swelled but she held his gaze. God, he was smart. She'd hoped Sirius wouldn't remember their first meeting with clarity but he did. There was no avoiding it.

But he wasn't ready.

"Who are you, Hermione?"

Hermione licked her lips. "Everything you know about me is true. I was born in England. My family is gone. I was sent to live with the Potters. But…there are things I can't tell you yet, Sirius. I can't ask you to trust me, because I know it won't happen. I only ask that you give me time. Please."

Sirius glared and looked away unhappily. Then, "Will you ever tell me?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes."

"And I'm not crazy." He stated it as a fact.

Hermione shook her head, her heart heavy. "No, Sirius. You're not crazy."

Sirius nodded, sniffing. He reached in his pocket and withdrew a folded letter, and Hermione's mind went numb. "Can you explain this, then?"

Hermione stared at the damning letter for several seconds, panic rising in her throat. "He—he wrote to me."

"You went to see him today." Sirius stared at her narrowly. "My brother doesn't listen to me anymore, but if he's listening to you I'd be careful about what you're encouraging in him."

"Encouraging?" Hermione repeated, disbelievingly. "I'm not encouraging anything. The exact opposite, actually."

"Come off it," Sirius snapped, losing his patience. "I know Regulus, git that he is. If he's interested in you it has to do with dark magic. Don't deny it."

Hermione gaped. "I'm trying to tell him off. You know he's into dark magic?"

"I wasn't born bloody yesterday. Of course I do." Sirius scowled. "Listen. Whatever's happened—what Voldemort and his followers did to your family—it's fucking horrible. And I can see why," Sirius's jaw clicked, "why sometimes, when bad things happen, you might feel like turning to the dark arts. But you shouldn't, Hermione. And you certainly shouldn't correspond with my brother about it."

"It's not like that. I swear, Sirius, it's not," Hermione added when Sirius shook his head with disbelief. "I'm just—just trying to understand it. I'm not hurting anybody and I definitely am not trying to get Regulus into trouble. The trouble he's making is all on his own."

"Are you seriously defending yourself about this?" Sirius shook his head again. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione stood quickly, running an agitated hand through her hair. "I don't have any more answers for you, Sirius. I've told you what I can. I'm not hurting anyone; not your brother, not this family. I think you should go."

Sirius stared at her for a long moment before pushing off the chair. Without a backwards glance, he left.

The door closed softly, and Hermione felt exhaustion take over her. Frustated tears threatened to spill over, but Hermione pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and shook them away. Taking out a roll of parchment from her desk drawer, Hermione began to write.

Dear Severus,

I hope you've been well. How's Hogwarts? In terms of what we talked about last, I believe you were quite right. Spending the holidays at the Potters has been a bit hard. I think, over the next holidays, I might stay at school with you.

xxx

"You look peaky, Hermione. Are you sure you're alright?" Lily asked in concern.

Hermione forced a smile. "I'm fine, Lily. Just tired from the holidays, is all."

Lily nodded, glancing out the train's window. "Funny, I would've thought James'd be in here rattling away about me, considering how surprisingly well our dance went last week."

"If it is any consolation, he did mention it once or twice…or twenty times at home."

Lily suppressed a grin, and straightened in her seat. "He's usually dreadful at dancing." She squinted out the window. "I see the castle now. We should change into our robes, I think."

Hermione and Lily dressed in the Hogwarts attire as the train slowed to a smooth stop. Hermione followed after Lily, grabbing her trunk and stepping onto the wet, snow-slick pavement. A few paces behind her she saw the marauders, dragging their trunks behind them. Her heart sank when Sirius and glanced away, pushing his friends toward the castle. Only Peter hesitated, giving her a small smile and a gentle wave. Hermione smiled back faintly.

Hermione gritted her teeth and rushed towards the castle. Pushing past several students, she entered the Entrance Hall and looked around desperately. A flash of long, slick hair caught her eye and immediately she began to run. Severus was standing near the staircase, looking about the other students with disdain. He caught her eye and his countenance brightened, smiling. "Hermione! Is Lily with you too?"

A rush of relief filled her—she'd grown so accustomed to Sirius's distrusting looks that Severus's joy to see her was overwhelming. Without a second thought, Hermione threw her arms around him in an embrace.

"Hermione, are you alright? I got your letter just last night, I—why are you shaking?" He withdrew from her, holding her firmly by the shoulders. "What is wrong?" His eyes darkened as she shook her head speechlessly. "It was Potter, wasn't it? Or his damned lackeys. What did they do, Hermione?"

"No. It was just a long holiday, Severus," said Hermione tiredly. "A really, really, long holiday."

Her eyes were thankfully dry so Severus did not inquire further, and allowed her to step forward and embrace him again. His arms looped around her securely and she heard footsteps draw near. Closing her eyes, she buried her face into Severus's chest.

"What's wrong?" It was Lily, whispering.

She felt Severus shrug helplessly. "Dunno."

"She was looking off through the entire train ride here…"

As Hermione withdrew from Severus's arms, she gazed at him with a new critical look.

Perhaps…her success in destroying a horcrux really did not lie with the Gryffindors. Perhaps what she really needed was a Slytherin. And Severus, who was already knowledgeable in the Dark Arts…could he have knowledge on what she needed? Her thoughts flickered to Regulus, then to Scabior.

A Gryffindor in disguise.

"Severus," Hermione started slowly. "Would you…would it be alright if I sat with you during meals?"

Severus blinked in surprise, exchanging glances with Lily. "Of course," he smiled lightly. "I can't say the rest of my House will be as pleased to see you, though…"

"Oh, sod your Housemates," said Lily with an irritated scowl. "I'll sit with you as well."

Hermione smiled gratefully, and nodded. It was time she learned how much Severus Snape knew about the dark arts.

Chapter 10: Legilimens

Chapter 10

Legilimens

"This isn't so bad," Hermione attempted a cheerful tone. "Hardly anyone's noticed."

Severus and Lily gave her a long-suffering look, then turned their attention to the rest of the Slytherin table. Dozens of students were staring at the trio, gripping their butter knives tightly and narrowing their beady eyes. Hermione swallowed hard.

"It could've been worse," she said weakly.

Lily let out a growl and grabbed a crumpet. "Sod them all," she muttered. "It's a free country. There's no rule that says there can't be inter-house friendship."

"Or inter-house breakfast," Severus said dryly.

"Well I won't be so easily intimidated," Lily hissed, taking a vicious bite out of the crumpet. "And neither should you two; it'll only encourage them."

"Who's intimidated?" Hermione said, straightening in her seat. "This is just their 'annoyance' phase. By next week they'll be in their 'ignoring' phase and will refuse to look at us. It's all working perfectly, if you ask me."

Severus opened his mouth to reply but closed it suddenly, his eyes narrowing at a figure approaching the table. Hermione followed his gaze, and found herself mirroring his scowl.

"Are you lost?" Scabior asked genuinely, his brows knitting together in confusion. Hermione frowned.

"No. I can eat wherever I please."

Scabior raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with Severus. "Aye, not that I'm complaining. Just making sure you know what you're doing before…" He trailed, and smiled widely. "Well, you'll see when it happens." Scabior turned away, and his expression brightened when he looked at Lily. "Evans," he smiled widely as he resumed his walk down the Slytherin table, taking a seat at the far end.

"Ugh," Lily set down her toast as if it had burned her. "Perhaps I should dye my hair black." She looked at Severus quickly. "Not that there's anything wrong with black."

"I never dreamed we'd have non-discriminating Slytherin flirt," Hermione said mildly. "It's actually really disturbing."

"What he is is an idiot," Severus replied shortly, his lip curling in distaste. "And you should stay away from him."

"You tell me to stay away from everyone, Severus. It's a wonder you haven't said as much about yourself."

"There are few you should trust, Hermione," Severus scowled, but his words fell to deaf ears as Lily turned to Hermione.

"He says that to me all time," said Lily darkly. "I've learned to ignore it at this point and just pretend to listen."

Hermione grinned. He made no other remark, but he remained annoyed throughout the walk to Potions.

"I swear you've perfected the art of sulking," Hermione said with a laugh, and Severus looked at her curtly. "If your own friends cannot tease you, who can?"

"Nobody," said Severus succinctly, though his expression had lightened slightly. Hermione nudged his arm with her elbow, smiling. "Lighten up. We do it because we care."

"Perhaps I should show you how much I care?" Severus challenged with an evil glint in his eye. Hermione laughed and shook her head in protest as they worked on their latest potion.

"Nearly done with the draught already, I see," Slughorn sidled beside Severus, peering into the simmering cauldron. "Soft purple, just as it should. You really are remarkable students."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione and Severus said in unison, though Severus's was a touch bored.

Slughorn leaned a bit closer, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Now, I originally planned to host the annual Christmas Eve Party last term, but circumstances prevented the celebration. Urgent matters, you see," Slughorn explained, and Hermione nodded while Severus stared blankly. "So I have decided, instead, to have a start-of-term celebration. Just a banquet, nothing too extravagant. Heavens knows the schoolwork has already started to unload on you fifth years."

Hermione returned to her experiment, her mind perusing over Slughorn's invitation. Perhaps…she could do what Harry had done…?

"Focus, Granger," Severus snapped, causing Hermione to jump a little. Hermione looked down and saw she had cut a root at a misshapen angle.

"Damn," she muttered, and began chopping with concentration. "Sorry, my mind was preoccupied."

"I didn't even notice," Severus said dryly. "Pray tell me what was on your mind that you've nearly butchered the last remaining ingredient."

Hermione glanced at Severus, and felt like she was trapped in one of those infamous Snape-stares that he gave on a daily basis back when he was her professor. She felt nervous all of a sudden, but she quickly squashed the feeling down. There was no need to be intimidated by this younger, kinder Snape.

"Slughorn's invitation, obviously. And I've hardly butchered it." When Severus made no reply, Hermione glanced at him. Her eyes widened. "Are—are you writing in the book?" Hermione said incredulously. Severus shifted slightly, giving her a better view of his textbook. Indeed, he had written quite a lot in the margins.

"You only just noticed?" Severus clucked his tongue. "I always write my own notes in all of my potions books. Makes things…easier."

"Ah," Hermione noted. "What made you start?"

Severus continued writing. "When there is something wrong, something easier, I fix it," he explained. "That is all."

"But how could you…you're just a fifth year."

"As you are too, yet you and I can do nonverbal spells," Snape remarked. "Tell me something I do not know."

"How do you know I can do nonverbal spells?" Hermione asked, groaning inwardly. She was by far the worst time traveler in history.

Finally Severus leaned away from the table to pin her with an exasperated glare. "Are you on something?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Why are you asking such obvious questions today, Hermione? It's as if you're only half-awake." Severus actually appeared annoyed. Hermione looked away, partially in embarrassment and partially because she was not sure what to say.

"You know I've had a lot on my mind," said Hermione. Severus looked at her for a moment before sighing quietly.

"When will you tell me, Hermione? I don't mind you sitting with me during meals, you must know. But you have not mentioned one word about the Christmas holidays."

"I know," Hermione said tiredly. Because she did. She had not told him yet what happened over break, and honestly did not know what she could tell him. He would never understand why Sirius grew so mistrustful of her, and she could not tell Severus about the scar on her knee, or the time-traveling. So what could she possibly discuss with him?

Nonetheless, they did need to talk.

Hermione let out a sigh. "Eat lunch with me in the courtyard today. The one by the mountainside. There are less people there."

Severus was puzzled for a moment, then understanding filled his dark, hooded eyes. He gave a curt nod and said nothing. Bending over his textbook, he resumed scribbling in the margins of his potions book.

"You do nonverbal spells on the potions we brew without noticing," said Severus, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

xxx

Peter Pettigrew was never one to stand out.

In fact, it was part of his motto, his personal goal, even, to remain in the background—unseen, unbothered, and he was quite happy with it.

Over the months, however, the background began to lose its appeal. He found himself wondering why he liked so much to remain hidden. What benefit did it have him now? Before, it was understandable. Peter was quite small for a fifteen-year-old, so naturally when he was an eleven-year-old, he was even smaller than normal. He was, as many cruel children would think, the perfect target for employing mischief and pranks, and heartless bullying. In fact, if he thought long enough, Peter could recall being quite miserable before he befriended Sirius, James, and Remus. Once he joined their party, the teasing and bullying had all but stopped.

Even still, he never felt quite part of the group. He was always so careful with his words and his actions, fearing they would change their mind and stop their friendship with Peter. That fear of abandonment, and return of the solitary and pitiless life, was the driving force of Peter's complacency and timid acceptance of the trio's words and actions.

But things were not the same anymore. Peter could not figure out what had happened to cause this change, but it had happened and it had changed him irreversibly. No longer did he slink in the background. No longer was his voice unheard.

Peter Pettigrew grew a backbone, and it was going to change everything.

During Transfiguration, Peter found himself glancing at the Granger girl several times during the lesson. She was quiet, determined, and attentive. She smiled at him kindly whenever she caught him watching, which was quite often.

What surprised him was the amount of coldness directed toward her lately. For the first time since the Severus-fiasco at the start of term, Hermione wasn't really talking with them. Mostly Sirius. Peter was utterly baffled.

Remus seemed the most troubled. He would exchange a few words about the class with her at least. James and Remus had asked, quietly, if Sirius was avoiding her again, because Hermione seemed to be avoiding them, but Sirius had been unsurprisingly reticent. And brooding.

Sirius was an expert brooder.

Peter was very honest with himself. Dismissing Hermione was rather odd. And Hermione—so distanced from people who should have been her friends—was now sitting with the Slytherins at all meals, accompanied by Lily Evans. Peter felt his heart sink even lower every time he watched her enter the Great Hall and head for the Slytherin table, taking a seat across from Severus Snape. And then he grew angry.

And it was because Peter was having these thoughts and questioned his place in the background and gained some bravery, that he decided he did not need to follow Sirius as an example. He would speak with Hermione today.

Peter had always feared abandonment, but he never thought he would be the one to abandon a friend. And it simply did not sit well with him.

xxx

"Hermione, will you cease your staring." Severus glared at her and began walking faster. "You are such an insufferable—"

"Don't," Hermione warned, "even think about finishing that sentence."

They entered the courtyard at a brisk pace, and found a bench to sit on. The view was truly spectacular, with flecks of snow on the grass near them and the mountainous view ahead. Hermione sighed in content as she sat down.

"It's still quite cold out," Hermione noted with a shiver. It was a massive understatement, as it was very cold outside, and she knew Severus was not entirely happy with eating in such weather, but knew he would not protest. His need of knowledge far outweighed his comfort.

"You're still staring," Severus said with a level glare. Finally Hermione could stand it no longer, and let out a small laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just—it's so big."

Severus narrowed his eyes, and Hermione tilted her head in thought. "Hermione…" Severus said warningly, not liking the look in her eye. She bit her lip and reached over, pushing his protesting hands aside and reached for the back of his head.

"No, I need it—"

"It looks ridiculous—"

"Leave me alone—argh!"

Hermione had successfully reached over him and quickly yanked off the hair scrunchie that had been tying his hair back. With a triumphant smile she pocketed it and looked at Snape with satisfaction. "There. Much better."

"Why must you interfere? Why must you always interfere? Maybe I liked it like that," Severus snapped angrily.

"I'll give it back," Hermione said laughingly. "I didn't realize you were so attached."

"I'm not."

"Trust me; I'm doing you a favor. You're much more handsome this way."

Severus opened his mouth but did not speak. He closed it immediately, and looked away in gruff embarrassment, though she could have sworn his neck turned scarlet.

"Well, go on. Eat." Severus said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione gave him a look and took out a pear from her coat, polishing it a little before taking a bite. He had the patience of allowing her to finish it off in peace, silence filling the air.

Hermione sighed.

"What is it?" asked Severus quietly.

"Nothing. Thinking."

"Good merlin."

"Stop it."

"I fear none of us are safe."

"Don't make me throw this at you." Hermione held up the half-eaten pear threateningly.

"Can we skip to the reason you wanted to talk privately in the freezing cold? Preferably before my balls fall off?"

"Severus," Hermione's jaw dropped, laughter bubbling from her.

Severus rolled his eyes. "What happened on the train, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked, pausing. "Er. Nothing happened on the train."

"Hermione…" he sounded exasperated.

"I swear, Severus. Nothing happened."

Severus paused. "And before the train?"

Hermione held a sigh. "The break was…quite nice actually," she began, her eyes focusing down on her boots. "But the night after that ridiculous Christmas party, Sirius realized I have some things…that I am not willing to share with him. It's made everything rather awkward."

Severus stared at her blankly. "But everybody has secrets."

Hermione turned to him, suddenly filled with ire. "Exactly! Merlin, he is such a hypocrite for calling me out when he's the biggest mystery out of all of us! Sirius has a bad mood? Broods for ages. Doesn't tell anyone way. Spontaneously turns Hogsmeade shops into fudge."

Severus listened to her vent, amused. She heaved a sigh. "So there. That's it. And I'm too much of a weenie to sit at Gryffindor's table now, and I know everyone else is confused why I've stopped…I don't think I've made any right choices since I got here."

Severus shook his head, his face contorted in a look of disgust. "Good riddance," Severus hissed quietly. "They are despicable anyway, you're lucky to have left while you had a chance."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "To be fair, though, it's a pretty involved secret. I'm surprised he's not angrier with me."

"He's a clotpole."

"…No, he's not."

"How can you still defend him?" he snapped.

"He's my friend. They all are," she said, hesitating a little.

"And what great friends they are. Has any one of them come up to you?" Hermione remained silent. That was all Severus needed, and he plowed on. "You are so blinded by this ideal friendship you think you have with them that you can't see that it doesn't exist. I cannot tolerate you breaking into pieces every time something goes wrong concerning Potter and Black."

Hermione was taken aback. She looked away. "Wow. I'm sorry I've been such a burden to you."

Severus sighed quietly. "You know that is not what I meant. I just…" he looked away, as if having trouble verbalizing what he was thinking. "You are my friend Hermione. Naturally I would be angry when I see you hurt."

Hermione stared at her hands, thinking. "I'm stronger than this, Severus." She looked at him. "I'm just so tired…all of the time. I feel drained, as if I'm being stretched thin from all directions. And I don't know why," she trailed, her mind going to the horcrux that continued to whisper to her under her bed.

"It's a vicious cycle for me, Sev. I get up, I try, I get hit, and I fall. I used to be stronger than this. I need to be stronger than this," her voice grew harder, and she looked away into the distance.

"Then become stronger."

Hermione looked at Severus. He was serious. "You might not be physically strong, but you have a mind, Hermione. From what I have learned, you can do battle with just your mind—it is your strongest tool and your greatest advantage. As long as you have this," he tapped the side of her head, "and you protect it, and you use it…you will be fine."

Hermione stared at him, stunned. "Oh Severus. Thank god I met you." She leaned against him, looping her arm into his. She smiled when she felt him lean slightly into her in return.

After a long moment, when Hermione was least suspecting the silence to be broken, Severus spoke. "Hermione…"

"Mm?"

"Would you like to learn Occlumency?"

Hermione froze. Eyes wide, she leaned away and looked up at him. Searching his eyes, she said incredulously, "You're serious."

"I am. You've been through such things Hermione, that at times I am amazed you are as kind as you are." Hermione bit her lip, and he continued. "You were targeted for a reason. I know that you will not always be safe. And if…" he paused, before continuing strongly, "if you were ever to encounter the Dark Lord or his followers, you must protect your mind."

Hermione pondered on his words. "And you'd be willing to…teach me?" she asked unsurely.

"Yes."

Hermione lowered her eyes, her mind racing. Learn Occlumency from Severus Snape? She remembered when Harry had lessons with him, and he came back miserable each time—but she knew it was because of their mutual hatred that made the lessons extremely difficult.

"How do you know how to do it?" she asked slowly. Severus blinked, his eyes tight.

"I've said it before, Hermione. Our mind is our greatest weapon. It was natural for me to find ways…to protect it."

Hermione nodded slowly. He did not directly explain how he knew it, but she would not press him, for she did not really need to know.

Occlumency, learning to be an Animagus, and destroying horcruxes. Hermione had a feeling that the list would not end there.

"Yes," she breathed. Hermione looked Severus in the eyes, and smiled. "Yes, I would be honored to learn from you."

Severus looked relieved, and gave her a small smile of his own. "Excellent," he straightened, looking at her superiorly. "We will begin at first chance. I don't want to interrupt your studying during the weekends, so tell me which days work for you."

"We'll be doing this immediately?" Hermione spluttered in shock.

Severus gave her a pointed look, as if she had said something incredibly stupid. "What else did you think would happen? The world is not safe, Hermione, and the faster you learned to protect yourself, the better."

Hermione nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, I suppose you are right…well, how about Potions on Tuesdays and Thursdays? It is the last class on those days and we can skip dinner and go straight to practicing."

"Very well," Severus smirked at her in that familiar way, and Hermione scowled. "I have one condition."

"Here we go," Hermione muttered.

"During our lessons, you will refer to me as either 'sir' or 'Professor Snape'. We must maintain the student-teacher relationship as close to reality as possible, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione groaned when she heard his words. "I thought I'd never have to call you that again," she muttered under her breath. It was all very deja-vu, and much too close to home.

"What was that?"

Hermione jumped and smiled brightly. "Nothing at all...Professor."

"That's Professor Snape to you," Snape leered, his lips curling upwards in amusement.

"Never," Hermione grinned, and yelped when he kicked a pile of snow onto her. "That's foul play! I'll report you to your boss!"

He kicked snow onto her again and she reached into her pocket, stretching the hair scrunchie and sending it hurtling to Severus's face. He looked at her murderously and made a lunge for her as she sprang from the bench, running down the sloping courtyard with Severus hot on her heels. She shrieked when he caught her around the waist and spun her, bringing her to a large mound of snow.

"Do you surrender?" His voice danced with laughter.

"No," she laughed, the let out a short scream when he doubled her over, leaning behind her as he brought her face closer to the snow.

"Do you surrender?"

"No!"

He was just about to drop her into the snow when they heard a scuffle of feet a few feet away. Hermione and Severus lifted their heads simultaneously, and were surprised at what they saw.

"Peter?" Hermione said in shock. Peter smiled nervously.

xxx

"Are you sure you're okay, Remus?" James asked quietly. "You look a bit—"

"I know what I look like," Remus snapped, and James blinked. "I'm sorry," Remus groaned, lowering his head into his hand. "It's close to the full moon, so you know…things are a bit heightened for me right now."

"I know, mate," James clapped his shoulder reassuringly. "You'll get through this, just like you always do."

"Yeah," replied Remus distantly.

"Are you going to the Shrieking Shack?"

Remus shrugged. "I'm not sure. After the attack last term, I've had a different arrangement with Dumbledore…can't say I prefer it."

James furrowed his brows. "You never did tell us what his alternative was, Remus."

Remus gave him a meaningful look, and James paused. "You don't mean…" James hesitated, and Remus gave a curt nod. James sprang to his feet. "He can't do that! You can't be caged like a—like an animal—"

"But that's what I am, James." Remus rose to his feet as well, striding over to James's side of the dormitory bed. "Once a month, that is what I am. It's only fitting."

"There must be something else," James replied quietly. Remus shrugged, and slowly sat back down on his own bed.

"It's okay, you know? It's better than getting maimed by a werewolf."

"Did they ever find out who it was that attacked you?"

"Last I heard from Dumbledore, they're still tracking him down," Remus admitted. "It doesn't—there will always be people who will hurt me, James. And there will be people I hurt. It is the way it is."

James stared at his best friend, his emotions conflicting in his mind. "It doesn't have to be that way. And you shouldn't have to accept pain. There is more to life than that."

"Is there?"

James did not reply. Instead, he stated, "I have to meet Sirius and Peter soon."

Remus looked away, heaving a sigh. "Might as well. Just another thing to add to the list."

"What do you mean?"

Remus gave a pointed look. "I'm not an idiot, James. I know you three go out together every night, doing god knows what, and taking the cloak and map with you."

"Don't be silly," James lied, feeling panic stir inside him. He hadn't meant for Remus to notice, and he did not want to tell Remus just yet what they were planning with their Animagus-training. "We're just fooling around."

Remus looked away. "I understand. I'm not saying anything."

James felt the coldness of his words, and frowned. "You don't really think we're leaving you out of the group, do you?"

Remus stood from his bed and headed for the door. "Not at all," he replied. "But I wouldn't be the first."

Remus walked briskly across the common room and climbed out of the portrait hole. He decided to visit Dumbledore's office to verify the means of his transformation tomorrow night. He could understand James's fury at the prospect of being locked away, but really, what other choice did he have? He could not test Dumbledore's generosity any longer. He was the only headmaster in all of Britain to accept him as a student, knowing his circumstances.

He arrived at Professor McGonagall's office, and knocked quietly. "Enter," he heard her say, and he opened the door.

"Mr. Lupin," McGonagall acknowledged. "Are you well?"

"Yes, Professor," replied Remus as he stood before her desk. "I was hoping I could see Professor Dumbledore tonight, regarding my…plans for tomorrow."

"The headmaster is currently away from Hogwarts, but I was informed that your location will remain the same as last."

"Professor Dumbledore is not here?" he said incredulously.

"Yes. Urgent matters, none that concern a fifth-year. Off to bed, and you will meet me here at six o'clock sharp tomorrow evening."

"Yes Professor," he said subdued, turning mechanically away. Once the door was closed behind him, he furrowed his brows. Dumbledore had never left Hogwarts the week of his transformation. What had called him away?

xxx

James sat on his bed, his mind turning over the conversation with Remus. He glanced over at Remus's bed, and he felt another familiar pang in his heart. Mind made up, he rose from the bed.

James quickly left the dormitory and searched for Sirius. He was not in the common room, nor in the Great Hall. It took him quite some time, but he finally found Sirius hunched over a book in the library.

"Bloody hell. Are you studying?"

Sirius glanced at him wryly. "I do study, on occasion."

"We're supposed to meet in the Room of Requirement tonight," James reminded, taking a seat across from his best friend. "Also, Remus has got the idea in his head that we are not including him in our friendship any longer."

At this Sirius's head shot up. "What! Why would he ever think that?"

"Oh, I dunno, Sirius. Maybe because we sneak out of our dormitories every other night without him? The man is damn clever; he was bound to notice some time."

"Damn," Sirius cursed, leaning back in his chair. "I don't want him thinking we're ignoring him. He must know better."

"All the more reason we need to practice tonight, so that we can show him what we've been up to," replied James emphatically.

"Right, right," Sirius agreed, nodding. "Where's Peter?"

xxx

"So the mouse has finally crawled out of its hole," Severus sneered, releasing Hermione and stepping away. "Were they not feeding you well?"

"Stop it, Severus," Hermione hissed, and shot an apologetic look towards Peter. "Was there something you wanted, Peter?"

Peter hesitated, and Hermione smiled at him kindly.

"I..I, um…"

"Yes?" Severus raised a condescending brow, and Hermione threw him a dark look.

"Could I…speak with Hermione privately?" he finally managed. He was fidgeting like mad, and Hermione took sympathy and nodded.

"Severus, if you could please," she gave him a meaningful look, and he frowned.

"No, I think I'd rather stay. We are all friends, are we not?" Snape said innocently, but she saw a hint of a smirk on the corner of his mouth. Hermione scowled and turned to Peter, who looked as if he were debating with himself.

"Peter, let's go, we can walk somewhere—"

"No," he replied immediately, and looked her in the eyes, suddenly determined. Peter glanced over at Severus, and licked his lips. "He's right. Severus should stay. He's been the better friend out of the two of us."

"So he does have a brain," Severus remarked blandly.

"Severus." Hermione's tone was warning.

"I came here because…because," Peter took a deep breath. "I felt like I should. Sirius is my best friend, Hermione. He's—he's been there for me when nobody else has, he saw me when nobody else did…so, so you must understand why I follow very closely to him." Peter looked up and met her eyes, and Hermione nodded slowly, her heart beating very fast at what she saw in them.

"My friends—they're my best friends above all. But—but that does not mean I have to follow their example. O-or don't have to. And…and…and I do not think it is right. So," Peter continued in a high-pitched voice, "I would very much like to continue speaking with you…and be your friend. I-I-I'm not sure if we've done something to make you leave Gryffindor table, but—please don't feel left out. I know what that feels like. It's terrible."

Hesitantly, Peter raised his gaze to Hermione's again. Hermione was struck, frozen on the spot, and it was as if she saw little stars floating in her vision.

Hermione glanced at Severus. He said nothing, but inclined his head as if to say: whatever you wish.

"Oh Peter," she sighed, and took three steps up to give the small boy a hug. He was taken aback at first, but then quickly returned the embrace. They released each other and Hermione broke into a wide grin. "Thank you. This means more than you could ever know."

Peter was positively beaming, his eyes glancing over to Snape, whose mouth was twisted in an expression of attempting to smile while smelling something foul.

"Does this mean you'll sit at the Gryffindor table again?" Peter asked hopefully.

Hermione paused, and glanced at Severus. He looked back at her indifferently, though his mouth was forming a frown. "I don't think so, Peter," Hermione said finally, looking back at him. Peter was visibly disappointed, and Hermione sighed. "It's a personal choice. Until I can clear my head. It's nothing anyone's done to me."

"I understand," Peter nodded, but he gave her a small smile. "I'll see you in the common room?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, and with that Peter began heading back into the castle. She watched him go, and it felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"I did not expect that," Severus noted blankly as Peter disappeared out of sight. "I never knew he had the bal—Hermione?"

She felt Severus's finger brush against her cheek, wiping the wetness that was there. She looked up at Severus, her eyes bright with relief and happiness, and she smiled. He looked at her in deep concern and confusion.

"I did it," she breathed, more to herself than to him. Her smile broadened. "It has not all been a waste. I've made a difference. I did it."

xxx

"Peter, where the bloody hell have you been?" Sirius hissed, quickly grabbing the young boy by the arm and dragging him back out of the portrait hole he had just climbed in from.

"I was roaming the courtyards—" Peter began.

"'Roaming the courtyards' he says," James shook his head as he walked briskly down the halls beside them. "Have you forgotten what today is?"

Peter blinked a few times before gasping. "Oh. Oh. Merlin's beard."

They slipped quietly into the Room of Requirement, and the trio exchanged looks.

"We were very close last night," James said seriously. "If we try our best, we can do this tonight."

"James…"

"We have to try, Sirius."

"Alright," Peter said, bracing himself against his knees. "Begin."

The three marauders allowed the energy of magic to flow through them, focusing on transforming their bodies into an animal. Each had a specific animal in mind, each pushing themselves as far as they could go, and each terribly desperate to be there for Remus during his full moon transformation.

There was a rustle of noise, and James opened his eyes.

"HOLY SHIT!" James exclaimed. "Peter, look at Sirius! Look at our bloody boy!"

Peter opened his eyes and broke his concentration, only to have his jaw drop. "Sirius!"

Where once stood the six foot, dark-haired aristocrat, was now a large shaggy dog with wild black fur and twinkling grey eyes. The dog form of Sirius gave a happy bark, and began running around the room.

James reached down when Sirius drew near him, running his hands through his mane. "Nothing seems to be amiss…the transformation was flawless…damn it, Sirius, I had hoped I'd be the first to shift." Sirius barked again, and James straightened. Immediately Sirius went back to his human form, a shit-eating grin spread on his face.

"You owe me six galleons," Sirius declared proudly, and James rolled his eyes.

"You just wait, tonight me and Peter will have transformed as well, isn't that right—Peter? Where is he?"

Sirius frowned, noticing his friend's disappearance. "I dunno, I think—oh."

"What?"

Sirius crouched down, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "I think your answer is down here."

James glanced down and blanched. "You've got to be joking."

A large rat was staring up at them, its nose quivering in excitement. James reached down and stroked its back.

"Looks like it's just you," Sirius smirked, ignoring his friend's glare. "And make that ten galleons."

Peter transformed back to normal, his eyes dancing with excitement. "James! Did you see me! Sirius! It was like nothing I'd imagined it'd be!"

"You bet your tea cozy it was," Sirius grinned, clapping Peter on the back.

"Let me concentrate now," James was perfectly still, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through his nose. He let the magic flow through him, and willed it to transform his body into an animal. Beads of sweat ran down his brow, and he opened his eyes in exhaustion.

"I don't think I can do it today," James said tiredly, only the words did not come out of his mouth. He blinked, and saw that Sirius and Peter were hovering over him with identical looks of awe, smiling wide. It was then that James breathed in deeply and glanced down, realizing what had happened.

With delight he began to run, jumping and circling his friends in his stag form. Finally he stopped out of exhaustion, and willed his body to return to normal. It happened immediately, and within moments he was standing beside Sirius and Peter.

"Well shit," said James, unable to stop smiling. "That was bloody quick."

"We will practice the rest of the night, to make sure the transitions are smooth," said Peter firmly, and the other two nodded. Smiling, he said, "If this can keep up…I think we don't have to hide this from Remus anymore."

"And he will never have to be alone again," said Sirius solemnly.

xxx

Hermione bit her lip as she perused through a large book she had bought over Christmas break. While she did have a euphoric moment yesterday with having Peter Pettigrew become a fiercely independent and strong-willed boy, it reminded Hermione that every moment in this era counted, and she still had yet to destroy a single horcrux. The end of the year was approaching quickly, and Hermione had to continue her research. However, the only piece of magic that she found relevant to horcruxes was, yet again, fiendfyre, and even that was remarkably vague.

"…'Fire possesses sentience of its own'…yes, yes, I know that…" Hermione muttered, clutching her bushy hair with a frustrated hand. "Dragon, snake, chimaera…beastly flame…but how do I put it out?"

"Can't say I'd ever dream o' you saying those words, Granger," a voice said suddenly. She jumped and watched Scabior sit in the seat across from her.

"What, are you following me?" Hermione snapped, closing the book quickly.

"I'm just brushing up my spells for the O.W.L.s next month, is all," Scabior said in defense. "No need to twist your hair in a knot—oh," Scabior's expression dropped in false sympathy, "I spoke too soon."

"And sat down too soon, as well," Hermione muttered, stuffing her books in her bag.

"You're a damn feisty one, tha's for sure," Scabior noted, tilting his head. "You should really stop, it only interests me more."

"I don't get it. Shouldn't you hate me? You're a Slytherin; don't you have some stereotypes to fulfill?"

"I do as I wish, and I wish as I do," Scabior sat up straighter, looking affronted. "I may run with the crowd but I don't necessarily enjoy their cake. I choose for myself, I do."

"Right. Well, this has been fascinating. I'll be off now," Hermione rose to leave, when Scabior's next words caused her to pause.

"Funny that a good little Gryffindor should be looking up fiendfyre, don't you think?"

Hermione swallowed and gave him a withering look. "Academic curiosity."

Scabior smiled slowly. "I could help you, if you like."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt you could ever help me."

He raised his hand to his heart. "That hurts, Granger. I was being sincere."

"You know, there're hundreds of other girls in this school for you to charm. Feel free to pick any one of them."

Scabior stood up, leaning against the table. "Well since you asked so nicely—I choose you."

Hermione groaned in frustration, slinging her bag over her shoulder as he continued.

"Have you ever heard of my family, Granger? They were very prominent wizards, brilliant ones too—"

"Clearly skipped a generation," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"—and you would be amazed at all the inventions my lineage is responsible for, which has been passed down generation after generation, after generation, where I was taught some very ancient and valuable magic—"

He was cut off abruptly when an owl soared into the library, dropped a letter in Hermione's hands, and flew away. Hermione read it quickly and pressed her lips together.

"An invitation?" Scabior observed.

"Very astute of you. I see you haven't—" Hermione stopped when a second owl came and dropped a letter at Scabior's feet. Smirking, he picked it up and smiled.

"Like I said, Granger. I'm practically royalty." He smiled and tucked the letter in his robes. "I'll be seeing you soon, love. And this time, it'll be you who comes to me."

Hermione made a face of disgust as he left. Why was she always stuck with Slytherins?

xxx

Hermione went down to the Great Hall for lunch, smiling when she saw Lily and Severus already sitting there waiting for her. She studiously ignored the rampant glares sent her way and took a seat.

"I'm starved," she announced, grabbing a sandwich off her plate and taking a large bite. "Is this turkey?"

"I'd say," Lily said mildly. "I see you got your letter as well."

"Yes," Hermione cast a wistful glance at the letter sticking out of her bag. "I almost wish I didn't have to go."

"It won't be so bad," Lily assured gently. "I've gone loads of times already. Slughorn likes to talk a lot, so you spend most of his meetings just sitting there listening to his stories," she smiled fondly. "He's quite brilliant you know. Gives me hope about the Slytherin House, knowing people like him were sorted in there as well."

"I agree," Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. "He is quite extraordinary, if you think about it."

"While this is very fascinating, I would not mind a change of subject," Severus interjected dryly. Lily grinned, and propped her arms on the table.

"You are also a good egg in the Slytherin House, of course," Lily amended. "Slughorn's a bit more interesting because he's genuinely nice to everyone."

Hermione snorted at the glare Severus was shooting Lily.

"Er, excuse me."

Hermione turned around, her mouth parting in surprise. "Peter?"

Peter smiled nervously, glancing around the room. "Would you mind if I sat here today?"

Speechless, Hermione and Lily moved over to give him space to sit, while Severus openly gawked.

Nearby, a Slytherin girl scowled, "This isn't a charity table!"

xxx

James, Sirius, and Remus stared across the room.

Remus turned to them. "Sorry, have we missed something?"

xxx

"Who would've thought," Severus said mildly as they headed out of potions. It was a quick lesson, as it was the end of the week, and they had all crafted a draft of stimulant potion to keep the drinker awake for twelve hours.

"Peter has a good heart," Hermione chided softly. "Though I worry what impression this is giving. I don't want this escalating."

"It already has. Just accept it."

Hermione groaned. She glanced around and stopped walking. "So, where are we doing the lessons?"

"Someplace secluded," Severus murmured, his brows furrowing in thought. "And comfortable."

Hermione considered telling him about the Room of Requirement, but held her tongue. She wasn't sure how she would explain knowing about such a place, and how it would affect Severus if he knew about it.

"There is this spot on the grounds," Severus began, "that I like to study by myself. It's quiet and nobody else knows of it."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked. He led her outside, traveling down the hills of the grounds and down a set of stone steps, stopping in front of a tall tree.

"I like leaning against here to study," Severus remarked, staring up at the tree. "It's quite comfortable and we can just spell it warm."

"Sounds alright with me," Hermione agreed. Severus gave her a long look. Frowning, she asked, "What?"

"Remember what we discussed?"

Hermione blinked, and then frowned even more deeply. "No."

"Hermione."

"Fine," she snapped. "Sir."

Not bothering to hide a triumphant grin, Severus took a seat and sat opposite her. "Now," he said, taking out his wand, "this might hurt at first, but you'll get used to it. You have to close your mind, as if you are putting up a mental shield. It's a bit messy the first few times, and I promise not to look into your memories as much as I can."

"What?" Hermione froze. Shit. Shit. No. Her memories? All her memories? Was she an idiot? She blamed Sirius for fogging her mind these past few days! "No. Er—let's—let's start with just basic breathing or something—"

"Don't worry, I promise you'll be okay. I said I'd try not to look," Severus smirked, misreading her apprehension. "I will be quick, and you have to be alert."

"Wait, Severus," Hermione said, alarmed.

"Legilimens!"

Chapter 11: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 11

The Beginning of the End

Her skull was on fire. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as blinding images sifted through her mind like pages of a book, the edges burning and crumbling.

She was no longer cognizant of the fact that she was sitting on the grass against a tree, or that Severus was sat beside her. She felt as if she had been ripped from the ground and forced into her head, watching her life flicker by in rapidly fading images.

She was sitting in the girls' bathroom, sniffling as she attempted to wipe the tears from her face. There was no use crying now. She was an outcast as a muggle and an outcast as a witch. Nobody would ever like her, and they weren't wrong….she  was a know-it-all…nobody would be her friend…

Hermione stepped outside the stall and felt her heart stop when she saw two heavy feet standing in front of her, and her jaw dropping when she looked up and saw a troll staring down at her…

"Focus, Hermione," Severus said calmly.

Hermione was kneeling on the floor watching a cabinet repair and destroy itself over and over, as it vaulted in a time loop right before her eyes. She had finally noticed the shard embedded in her knee, and glanced down and saw the broken time-turner. Hermione's eyes widened.

"No!" she yelled and closed her eyes, throwing up a shield desperately in her mind. He shouldn't see this, he should not be seeing this!

Hermione gasped when she was pulled out of the memory and back to the present. Her breathing was rough as air filled her lungs rapidly, and she vaguely realized that she was doubled over, the palms of her hands flat against the ground.

"Not bad," Severus said beside her, his tone holding a touch of concern.

"T-hanks," Hermione gasped, straightening in her seat and composing herself. Licking her dry lips, she looked at Severus fearfully and swallowed hard. "So, um, I think I'm done for the day."

"Really?" Severus scowled. "Hermione, as much as I'm impressed that you were able to block me out at some point, that's hardly anything. This won't work if you don't practice."

"I understand," Hermione's hand trembled as she fought to push a bushy lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm just…I just…I don't know if I'm ready." She gave an apologetic smile to an extremely perplexed Snape.

Severus's expression softened. "No one is ever ready, Hermione. That's the point. I need you to trust in me; I'll know when you've had enough. Let's try one more."

Hermione swallowed thickly. If she as able to block him once, she could do it again. Maybe she could steer her memories away from her time. Slowly, she nodded.

It came even faster than before, and Hermione felt the wind knock out of her as her mind zoomed through the recesses of her memories, some buried deep and some resting fragilely on the surface. She tried desperately to do what Snape had been trying to teach her, to shield her mind from intrusion, but everything was going too fast and she was struggling to remember what she was doing in the first place…

Hermione was staring down at a pale, blond-haired boy as he spoke, and something snapped in her. The next moment her hand swung in the air and connected loudly with the boy's cheek, leaving everyone—including herself—flabbergasted.

"Hermione," Ron said in wonder beside her as the blond ran away, looking at her as if she owned the world, and Hermione felt herself warm with pleasure…

"Focus,"a voice reminded.

She blinked when the scene shifted to Hermione sitting in Dumbledore's office as he handed her a golden necklace. The Time-Turner was almost weightless in her hands, and she was mesmerized by the ruby red grains of sand inside.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said shakily, "you used this tonight, didn't you."

Hermione blinked and realized what she was thinking. "No," she breathed, "No!"

She attempted to stop the memory, to redirect it elsewhere, and for the moment it had worked; the scene shifted to darkness, her mind striving to shut him out. The reaction was immediate; energy drained from her and wisps of fragmented thoughts flickered around her. She could feel Severus there with her, in her mind, penetrating it with his presence, and she struggled to throw him out. He was like heavy weight pressing against her in every direction, the walls closing in. But as quickly as she managed to stop the memories, they came flooding back, and Hermione was far too weakened to do anything to stop them.

She was standing in shock when a little boy shyly stuck out his hand to her. "I'm Sirius Black, by the way." The little boy beamed, and Hermione's heart stuttered.

"Hermione…?" Severus sounded unsure.

Tears collected under her lids when Professor Snape curled his lips in disgust, saying softly, "Five more points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all."

"NO!"

Memories swirled and vanished, and she threw her mind into darkness, fighting to keep Severus out. It was long moments later that Hermione realized the darkness she was seeing was the back of her eyelids, and she was on the grass once more.

She was too frightened to move. Her breathing was uneven, but so was Severus's beside her.

Trembling, Hermione opened her eyes. She was lying on the grass with her hands clutched to her head. Slowly, she raised herself to a sitting position. Swallowing thickly, she turned to look at Severus.

Severus was sitting absolutely still. His back was perfectly straight, his muscles tense. He was in shock.

"Severus?" He didn't reply. Hermione blinked rapidly, and shifted closer. "Severus," she repeated. When he made no move to reply, she said pleadingly, "Please say something."

"I was there." He was staring intently at the grass, his breathing uneven. "Older. I was there. You called me 'Professor'."

Not knowing what else to say, or what to make of this unusually frozen Severus, Hermione answered tentatively, "Yes. You were."

It was ages before Severus spoke again. "Is this why…" He gave her a scrutinizing look, as if trying to decipher her. "Is this why…Black mistrusts you?"

She nodded haltingly. "Yes."

Severus was lost in thought again, and Hermione did not know what to make of it. She didn't know what to do. Finally, she whispered, "Severus, you cannot tell anyone."

This finally got a real response from him. He furrowed his brows and said, "Does anybody else know?"

"No," she said quickly. "Not even Dumbledore."

Immediately Severus sprang to his feet. "For once perhaps that oaf Black was right," he said coldly, and it was like a bucket of ice had been dropped over Hermione's head. "Dumbledore should know."

"No—stop!" Hermione grabbed Severus's arm violently. "You can't tell him, you cannot tell anyone!"

"Why?" Severus sneered. Hermione fought back the hurt inside her and scowled.

"Because he's the one who sent me here. He's the reason I'm even here in this bloody time. I can't…I can't know what it will do if Dumbledore knows, if anyone else knows. It could throw off the rhythm of an already disturbed time stream."

"Why are you here?" the next question came rapidly from Severus. Hermione opened her mouth, and stilled.

"I—I can't. I can't tell you. Please, you must know I mean no harm."

"You can be vague," said Severus, taking a step forward, and keeping his wand locked on her. His upper lip curling, he hissed, "Explain."

Hermione bit her lip. Severus's eyes were filled with confusion and disbelief. She would never be able to reach her wand without having a hex thrown at her.

"Lower your wand," Hermione lifted her chin. Severus frowned. "Lower your wand, Sev, and I will tell you what I can."

The use of his nickname brought a spark of clarity to his eyes. Narrowing them, he lowered his wand arm hesitantly and waited.

"Come, sit," she sat back against the tree, and waited for him to follow. He sat down stiffly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You can ask what you want," she started quietly. "But I can only tell you what I can."

"Who are you?" Severus asked at once.

"Hermione Granger."

"Who are you really?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione repeated. "I've not changed my name."

"How did you get here?"

"From a Time-Turner."

"Don't be daft," Snape snapped. "No Time-Turner can move back years; even first years know that."

"I didn't use an ordinary one," retorted Hermione. "You saw my memories. Think of what you saw when I was sitting in Dumbledore's office."

Severus grew silent again, his mind racing. "The red sand is responsible?" Hermione nodded. "I've never heard of this."

Hermione almost snorted. "I didn't either, until a few months ago."

Severus sobered immediately. "Why are you here?"

"I was sent by Dumbledore."

"For what purpose?"

"To…help."

"With?"

Hermione shook her head. "So you knew me already," Snape continued. "When you arrived. You knew everybody here."

His voice sounded almost betrayed, and her heart twisted. "Not personally," Hermione insisted softly. "I don't know most of the people in this decade; I only recognize their names."

Severus was silent once more. Hermione fidgeted in her seat, waiting for the worst. She was mentally preparing herself for the distrust, the betrayed eyes and the sneering. Always the sneering. It was a shame, because Severus and Hermione had finally become genuine friends.

The sneering did not come. Instead, Severus said inaudibly, "Proof. Show me proof."

Hermione's eyes widened. Slowly, she replied, "Were my memories not enough?"

Severus shook his head. "I…have to know this is all by Dumbledore. I need to know you aren't here…to harm."

"I don't know if I have anything like that to show, Severus," Hermione muttered. Wringing her hands, she shook her head. What could she show? Her textbooks from the future? Fat lot of good that would do. She brought nothing of proof, nothing to—

"Wait," she said suddenly. "I have one thing. It's not enough, but it's something."

Silently the pair walked back into the castle. Hermione led him to the Gryffindor common room, muttering the password and climbing inside. Severus hesitated.

"I'll stay here," he said uncomfortably.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want this out of the open. You should see it where it belongs."

After much persuading and harsh words, Severus grudgingly entered the Gryffindor common room. She spelled the staircase to stay put as she led him to the girls' dormitory. It was still lunchtime and Gryffindor tower was silent and empty, and she crept into her dormitory with Severus right behind.

She stopped at the foot of her bed and knelt down. Reaching for her trunk, she pulled it out on top of her mattress and flicked her wand a few times, disabling some enchantments and opening it. She groped inside, searching for the bag, while Severus watched her intently. His stare was unnerving, and she could not meet his eyes when she finally pulled the bag free and slipped her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around a cold chain.

She reached for Severus's hand. She dropped the necklace in his palm, and waited. He stared at it, then lifted it to his eyes in scrutiny.

"Where is the sand?" he pondered.

Hermione bit her lip. "After I got here, it disappeared. You're only allowed to use it twice. But if you look closely inside, there's still a tiny spot of red."

Severus brought the Time-Turner closer to his eyes, squinting. Finally he lowered his hand, expressionless, and returned the necklace to Hermione.

He sat down on her bedspread without a word. Silently, Hermione returned the Time-Turner into her trunk and put the charms back on it, then drew it under the bed. She had never expected this sort of reaction if someone were to find out about the truth of her existence. Screaming, accusations, flying hexes—those she had expected. But not this.

As quietly as she could, without disturbing the bed too much, Hermione took a seat beside Severus. He met her eyes, and Hermione held her breath.

"The story," he murmured, as if unsure of what to say. "About…the Dark Lord's followers attacking you, and killing your family. That can't be true."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Honestly, Severus…I have no idea. I think it is."

Severus scowled. "What does that mean? You're not from here, you can't have been attacked and had your family murdered."

"This wasn't normal magic I used to get here, Severus," she whispered harshly. "Using this Time-Turner—it changes fate. My destiny has been changed. It rewrote history, what it needed to change, to have me stay here. I have—I have bits of memories of being tortured. I have residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse, as if I truly had been cursed with it for hours."

Severus was shocked, and his eyes went wide as he stared at her incredulously. "How is that even possible?"

"How is any of this possible?" she replied with a shake of her head. "But I know there's some truth to the stories. The Granger family—the family lineage where I come from, the parents that should have had me in a few years—are dead. There will never be a baby Hermione Granger born in 1979. So the Time-Turner has done its work."

It took Severus several moments to process these words. He looked torn between denying it all and going into a fit of rage.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" Severus looked from his lap and pinned her with a fierce stare. "You said you came to help. Nothing you've done here could have been without a purpose." Understanding registered on his face, and it was slowly twisting into fury. Hermione shifted nervously, and reached for his hand. "What happens in the future that is so terrible that Albus Dumbledore sends a teenager into the past to fix the mistakes?"

"Severus…"

He pulled his hand away before she could touch him, as if already burned. His eyes were full of accusation. "I saw your memory. You knew me. I was your professor, and I was—I was—"

Cruel to you. Hermione bit her lip as he worked the pieces together.

"That has nothing to do with it," she said earnestly. "I hadn't plan on talking to anybody, being noticed by anybody; being your friend happened on its own! I swear."

Severus abruptly stood up, breathing quickly through his nostrils. He was shaking, but was still trying to keep control.

"I understand," he said. He turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Hermione jumped from her bed and reached out to him, stopping him before he opened the door. "Are you angry?"

His expression was unreadable, making it impossible for Hermione to know what he was thinking. "I don't know."

Severus was clever, and had probably worked out the finer details of her purpose here without needing to be told. It frightened her. He would think she had used him.

Licking her dry lips, she said timidly, "Nobody can know, Severus."

His glare was sharp and piercing. "Suddenly forgot we were friends? No longer trust me?"

"No, I—"

"I'll keep your secrets," Snape forced out, shaking her off him. "I…I need to think for a while."

"You have to promise," Hermione quickly held out her hand. "Promise you will tell nobody of what you learned about me today."

Severus stared at her. Narrowing his eyes, he gruffly took her hand. "I promise," he said, and then withdrew. "Now I would appreciate," he began quietly, "if you would respect my wishes, and allow me to think."

"Y-yes," Hermione agreed unsteadily, watching him retreat. He closed the door, and she heard him close the portrait door.

Hermione dropped her head in her hands, body shaking.

xxx

Remus was sitting quietly in the common room, the walls growing dark as the sun set outside. He reread the same line five times, until he finally snapped the book closed in frustration. At this rate, he would barely get a Troll in the O.W.L.s.

It was almost time. Checking the clock, he saw he had about an hour before he was to head to McGonagall's office in preparation. Glancing around the common room, he noticed that it was abnormally crowded with fifth-years, though understandably. Each of his housemates were either buried in a book or scribbling furiously on stacks of parchment. Some were even practicing spells on the far corner of the room, with cheerful encouragement coming from the portraits looking over the students' progress.

To say he was disappointed when he didn't see his best mates around on this particular night was one way to look at it. Remus was past feeling angry and hurt. He was resigned, and accepted what was unraveling before him.

A sudden thump of footsteps caught Remus's attention. Hermione had just walked out of her dormitory, looking slightly pale. She shuffled over to the empty sofa near the fireplace and reached for the book that was sitting there. It seemed she hadn't noticed him.

"Hello," Remus said suddenly.

She jumped a little, as if she hadn't expected anyone to notice her. "Evening, Remus. Studying?"

"Just barely," he cracked a smile. "Are you staying?"

She followed his gaze to the book in her hand, and smiled slightly. "I was just picking up my book. I thought I'd head in early to bed."

Remus nodded. He focused on Hermione's book, and smirked a little. "That's an interesting text. Anything in particular you're researching, or are you simply fond of unapproved magic?"

Hermione looked at the book title and cringed. "It's more a companion to A History of Magic. I'm looking at the lineages of some spells, like fiendfyre."

Remus's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Yes, that's quite an old spell, I think. Horribly tricky, even for the dark arts."

Hermione nodded vaguely. "Yes. It's proving to be quite tricky to understand, let alone trace its history. Whoever even tries to use this spell is insane."

Remus nodded politely, then looked around awkwardly as silence ensued between them.

"It's going to be a full moon," she noted.

"Yes," he managed, his fingers twitching. "Soon." Hermione was looking at him sadly, and appeared to want to say something more before she was interrupted.

"Beautiful night tonight, don't you think?" James's voice suddenly appeared behind them. Hermione stiffened and saw James walking near the fireplace, with Peter and Sirius climbing through the portrait hole behind him. "Hermione! Finally done avoiding us?"

Hermione paled. "I—I haven't, er—"

"You're going to break all our hearts if you keep sitting with the Slytherins. And now Peter too?"

Peter laughed nervously. Remus caught Hermione's surreptitious glance at Sirius before she turned back to James. "It's really nothing. Just trying something new." She smiled at them. "Goodnight."

James sagged a little in disappointment when Hermione left, but brightened when Sirius and Peter sidled up with him. "Fancy a stroll, Remus?"

Remus blinked up at them, perplexed. "I—what?"

"Come, now," Sirius grinned cheerfully and hauled Remus to his feet. "I hear there's a surprise with your name on it, just waiting for you out the door."

"I don't understand," Remus stammered, but his confusion was heartily ignored.

xxx

"What is it?" Remus snapped when they'd stepped through the Room of Requirement. "Are you all mental? I have to leave in a half-hour, McGonagall will be expecting me—"

"Ask her to let you transform in the Shrieking Shack again," Sirius asked suddenly. Remus frowned, his brows bunching together in confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because," James stepped forward, "You have a reason to go there now. You won't be alone."

"Of course I will be alone," Remus said slowly. "What are you three playing at?"

"You know how, these past few weeks, you've seen us all slip away?" Peter began hesitantly. Remus nodded uncomfortably. "Well, we weren't messing around, and we weren't excluding you."

"Well that makes me feel loads better. Thanks," Remus retorted sarcastically, and moved to push past them. Sirius caught him by the arm.

"He's right, Remus," he said seriously. "We weren't goofing off. We were waiting until it was perfected—and I'm only sorry it's taken this long."

"Taken this long for what?" asked Remus in exasperation. James and Sirius exchanged significant looks, and then to Peter.

"We might as well show him," Sirius shrugged. Looking grim, the three stepped away from Remus and closed their eyes.

Remus's mouth fell open in shock as a stag, a shaggy dog, and a rat stood in the places where his three best friends had been standing not a second ago. The transformation had been instantaneous, quicker than the blink of an eye, and it was all Remus could do not to jump in shock.

"What…you…"

The dog—Sirius—ran around him playfully and put his paws on front of Remus's shirt. Remus knelt down in awe, grabbing the dog on either side of the head, and looked into his eyes.

They were grey, just like Sirius's, and they were staring contemplatively back at him.

"Merlin's beard," Remus breathed, jolting a little when a pair of antlers nudged his shoulder. James was wont for attention as well, and Remus saw that Peter—little, squeaky, ratty Peter—had climbed on James's back.

Remus stepped away and watched the animals transform back into his friends. All three were fighting grins, and looked to Remus as if waiting for approval.

Remus had no words. His mouth opened and closed, until he spluttered, "Have you all gone mad?"

The grins faded. "Aren't you happy, Remus?" James asked.

"Why would I be happy?" Remus asked incredulously.

"We—we learned to be Animagi!" Sirius exclaimed. "It took a lot of bloody effort, but it was worth it. Now you don't have to be alone when you transform, Remus. Don't you see? This is a good thing."

"No, it's not," retorted Remus hotly. "Did you even think what would happen if anyone were to find out? You're underage and you're unregistered—what will happen if you get caught? Azkaban is not short of empty cells, you know."

"Don't be dramatic, Remus," Peter snapped. "No one will find out, just as nobody else knows about your secret."

"I like to think of it as his furry little problem," Sirius added thoughtfully. Remus was shaking his head violently.

"It isn't safe! If you think I am going to put my best friends in danger and rip their animal throats out when I turn into a werewolf—"

"You wouldn't do that," James said gently. "You're a danger to humans. I think the mortality rate goes down a bit with other creatures. And you wouldn't feel threatened, so it's not like you would lash out at us."

"No," Remus said firmly. "I won't do this. I will not."

"I'm afraid you've got no choice in the matter," Sirius said in an equally challenging voice. "You're my best mate, my brother. We've sat back and watched you suffer alone through this long enough. And we're going to be with you every full moon, right at your side, chasing rabbits and scratching trees and keeping you safe from the arseholes that could attack you like last time."

Remus was still shaking his head. He whispered, "Why?"

Sensing that the fight was going out of him, Sirius stepped forward and slung his arm around Remus's shoulders.

"Remus," he said quietly. "We would do anything for you. If the roles were reversed, wouldn't you do the same? Would you listen if I tried to stop you?"

Remus sighed wretchedly and nodded.

"Al-alright. But I cannot guarantee I'll even get permission to do so," Remus warned. He sighed again when the three ushered him out of the room and into McGonagall's office. Needless to say she was appalled that Remus suggested to transform in the shrieking shack, and had outright refused—but then Dumbledore was there as well, back from his journey, with his keen, twinkling eyes had narrowed on Remus's face, and had asked him gravely, "Would you feel safer?"

Remus, dumbstruck, nodded fervently, and was shocked at Dumbledore's smile when he acquiesced. He went back into the hall looking every bit as numb as he felt, and told his friends the news.

"I don't agree with this," he mumbled throughout their journey to the Shrieking Shack. And when they arrived, he began to refuse their presence.

"Remus," James started exasperatedly.

"Okay look," Remus said sternly. "You will stay a good ten feet away from me once I transform. If I snap at you, get the hell out. I don't care if we're best friends, I will not have your bloods on my hands."

"We understand, Remus," Sirius said quietly. Remus nodded quickly, nearly shaking.

"Good," he said almost breathlessly, "good."

He ushered them away so he could strip down, tucking the clothes safely in the passageway. He waited, and he was trembling heavily at the thought that his friends could be injured in less than a minute.

The first beam of moonlight entered the Shack. He stiffened, feeling his body crunching inside him, and Remus let out a low moan.

Sirius, James, and Peter held their breath as Remus began to transform. It looked violent and painful, and within moments the trio transformed into their animal counterparts.

Then, they waited.

The wolf was hunched over, breathing rapidly. The shaggy dog licked his nose and decided to be the first to pad over him. The stag shivered, its eyes alert and filled with alarm.

At first, the wolf howled and swiped at the dog. It missed by a hairsbreadth and the dog snapped its mouth at the paw, pouncing around the wolf.

And, amazingly, the wolf played along.

The stag, with the rat sitting astride it, walked slowly to the pair, but within moments they all began to poke around each other in animal content.

xxx

The book was shaking in her hand.

The book, the final book that had planned to read about fiendfyre, was shaking in her hand.

She had read it. She had gone to the restricted session, cloaked with a Disillusionment charm, and stole the book in the dead of the night. She poured into its contents until daybreak, and stared numbly out the window until the rest of the Gryffindors began to wake up.

"Bugger," she finally whispered, and closed her eyes.

She ate breakfast in the library. She knew Severus wanted his space, so she had given it to him for the past few days. The Slytherin table was off-limits now, and she was still not too happy with sitting at her own House's table.

The book trembled in her grip as she waited by the Black Lake. She knew this was his usual spot, had seen him strutting about here enough times to know when to avoid him. But she was not looking to avoid him now.

A figure began to approach approach. She made no attempt to conceal herself, and crossed her arms when he stopped in front of her.

A smile spread on his lips slowly. "What did I say, Granger?"

Hermione did not look away. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing composure.

"I think I said," he sauntered over to her, smirking proudly, "that the next time we meet, it would be you coming to me. Seems I was right."

"Yes, yes," Hermione said impatiently. "Have you finished gloating?"

"Not nearly, but continue," Scabior grinned wickedly. He settled against a nearby tree, crossing his legs and arms, and waited patiently for her to speak.

Hermione cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, and stuck her chin up. "Well, I've been doing some reading."

"Oh?"

"And I found something rather interesting in a book."

"You don't say."

"About a bit of magic, that I'm sure you're very familiar of," Hermione said quite stiffly, as if she were forcing the words to come out saccharinely polite. She breathed evenly through her nose and recollected herself. Standing straighter, she announced, "Considering, of course, it is your ancestors that created the spell."

"Ah!" Scabior brightened, and clapped twice mockingly. "I see a lumos spell hovering over your head, Granger. Took you long enough to figure it out."

"Yes, well," Hermione coughed uncomfortably. "There it is."

"There it is," Scabior repeated lightly. "What do you want from me, then? To teach you?"

Hermione's eyes widened comically. "No. No, no, I-I was just curious. I'm always in search for information, to better educate myself. I thought it would be…beneficial, to ask from the source, as it is at my disposal."

"Hmm," was Scabior's thoughtful response. "There's one itty problem, dearest." Hermione frowned, and Scabior leaned closer until he was towering over her. He pointed his thumb to himself. "Slytherin, remember? I ain't doing nothin' unless there's something innit for me. And sorry to say, luv, but you're not my type."

"Not your—" Hermione spluttered, then quickly snapped her mouth closed. "I'm sure we can think of something."

"I'm sure we can," he nodded in agreement. "Like writing my next two Charms essays."

Hermione burst out laughing. "You really think that would work? Copying homework in a Charms class? Flitwick would know in an instant."

"Not asking you to copy them," Scabior looked at her as if she was daft. "I want you to write me a draft. Spare me the extra work. I'll rewrite in my own words an' all, see? I have better things to put this—" he his head, "—to use on."

"Clearly," Hermione muttered.

"Well?"

"How about I help you write them?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"You will be helping."

"No, I mean I'll just sit and help, like a guide! Surely that's much fairer."

"Fair?" Scabior began to frown. "Who said anything about fair? Spending every damn day with you to work on—" Suddenly he paused. "On second thought, I think that's a great idea. Yes. You and I will work together. Together, on these papers. And I'll be teaching you about me family spell."

Hermione grew suspicious at the pleased look in Scabior's eye. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly. "Nothing, love. Merlin, a bloke stares into space and suddenly he's plotting the worst."

Hermione continued to stare at him warily. Scabior brightened and took her by the arm. "No time to start than now, then."

"Now? I thought—"

"I thought you wanted to learn?"

Hermione bit her lip. "If anybody asks, I'm helping with your essay," Hermione said tersely.

"Don't want anybody to know where your interests lie, is that it?" asked Scabior with a raised brow. Hermione stiffened.

"Not at all. I'm just not keen on being harassed by your other, less genial friends."

"Ah, them," Scabior acknowledged. "Hard to get around their thick skulls, honestly. They're just a bit of fun; time-passing, even."

"Your idea of fun is very different from mine," Hermione muttered as they walked towards the castle.

"And yet here you are, asking me about bloody fiendfyre," said Scabior in a surprisingly dark voice, which made Hermione pause in her fast steps. "You know why you're so interesting, Granger?"

Hermione swallowed. Scabior leaned forwards so that they were eye-level.

"You walk like a Gryffindor, you talk like a Gryffindor, you even wear their robes—but inside, when you think no one's looking, you're no more a Gryffindor than I am. And if that isn't bloody exciting, I don't know what is."

Hermione's heart pounded as he straightened, his words reverberating in her skull. Mutely, she followed him inside, her head swimming in thoughts as they made for the library.

It was difficult finding a secluded seat that was not taken by every fifth year in the school. As the O.W.L. exams were now a mere two weeks away, panic had fallen over the fifth years. Scabior grimaced in disgust when a girl in the far corner of the library burst into tears, dropping her head on a very large textbook.

"Amateurs," Scabior muttered.

"Oh please." Hermione scoffed. "You're making me help you with two essays, you're no better."

"Not because I don't understand it. I just don't want to do it," Scabior shot back. They settled into a vacant table nearby, and Hermione took out a few rolls of parchment from her bag, along with a bottle of ink and a quill.

"Your boyfriend is staring at us," Scabior observed bluntly, and Hermione immediately straightened and looked in the direction Scabior was.

It was Severus. He glanced away, but it was clear he had been watching the two since they'd arrived in the library. Hermione tried to make eye contact with him, but he was firmly avoiding her and had turned in his chair so that his back was to her. Hermione let out a soft sigh, and returned her attention to Scabior.

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione muttered. Truthfully—and for some ridiculous reason—she had expected to see either Sirius or Severus. But she could see why Severus was given such a title. They had become such close friends, and had spent nearly all their time together lately.

"Is that an invitation?" Scabior lifted a brow. Hermione shot him a glare that only earned her a grin. "Right then. Fiendfyre. What do you want to know?"

Hermione blinked at his direct question. "Er, what do you want to tell?"

With a glint in his eye, Scabior huffed. "You see what I mean? Sneaky. You should've been in our House."

"I don't think that would work out. 'Dirty blood' and all."

"Ah," Scabior blinked as if he'd forgotten about that. "Right. Best you stay where you are, then. But you haven't answered my question."

Hermione twisted her mouth unsurely. How would she ask this? Tell me how to use it and put it out?

"Tell me…how it started. With your family."

"Well," he began, steepling his fingers. "It's very old magic. Traced it back about six hundred years. My family was the one to create it."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "Why was something as horrific and indestructible as fiendfyre necessary?"

"Nearly indestructible, Granger," Scabior corrected. "And why does any spell, dark or not, exist? It's a means to an end."

"But clearly went vague on the 'end' part," Hermione muttered. Scabior raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You know what I mean. It's almost impossible to execute the spell and put it out as well. The fire burns forever."

Scabior looked at her closely, then a smile grew on his lips. "Is that what the books have been telling you?"

Hermione furrowed her brows, and nodded slowly. Scabior looked extremely pleased.

"My, my. Looks like the family legacy hasn't died yet," he said proudly.

"What do you mean?"

Scabior tilted his head. "I mean what I mean. The books got it wrong."

"You mean it doesn't burn forever?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

Scabior barked out a laugh. "Simpler than that, Granger. It can be put out. But it seems not many people have figured out how."

Hermione let his words sink in. Put out? But how? She had scoured every book she could find, researched until her eyes were ready to bleed, and yet there was no word on how to stop the spell once it started.

"Frustrating, isn't it? Not knowing everything." Scabior leaned over the table. "I'll let you in on a secret though. How does one ever put out a spell? Any spell? Come now, Granger, I know you to be clever."

Hermione blinked. Then, her eyes widened. "Counter spell," she breathed. "You know the counter spell. That's why none of the books could mention it—they didn't know it!"

She hadn't realized how close she was to him, or how animated she had gotten in her excitement, until she heard a loud screech of a wooden chair and hard footsteps to her right. Hermione jerked away and caught the sight of Snape exiting the library just in time. Suddenly the beauty of her discovery began to fade, and Hermione frowned in her lap.

"Hermione?"

She looked up and caught Scabior's uncertain look. "Thank you, Scabior," she said sincerely. "Let's start on that essay."

xxx

"Five points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Inwardly, Severus Snape flinched yet again, for what seemed to be the tenth time that day.

It had been two weeks since the incident. Two weeks, without a word of hello or goodbye to the girl who had come and changed his entire life. Two weeks, and Severus still felt every bit betrayed and confused as he did the day it happened.

Severus tried very hard not to think of what he had seen. Most days, he could almost forget. But then that forgetfulness would nearly make him fall in step with Hermione Granger in the corridors when he caught sight of her, and then he would stop himself. He wasn't quite ready for that. Not just yet.

But then on days like these, when he was sitting in a crowded library with students chatting frantically like tiny bugs fluttering around him, his mind drifted to the memories he unknowingly peered into. Had seen the gaunt, thin, cynical man he would be in twenty years. From the looks of it, he had grown worse as the years progressed. He did not seem happier in the future, from what little Hermione had inadvertently revealed to him in her memories. He was even crueler than he was now, and that thought truly frightened him.

It seemed, Severus thought bitterly, that he was not meant to be happy even in the future.

Many things began to make sense, however. How Hermione knew things more than she ought to have known. How she easily performed sixth and even seventh year spells without even realizing. How rarely she seemed to the study the course material (though her nose was always buried in books), yet she passed with flying colors.

Truth be told, he understood. He knew, logically, why Hermione would keep this a secret. He knew why should would never tell him, or anyone else, about her secrets. Had he been in her position, he would not hesitate to do the same.

Severus started when he saw the foolish flirt of a Slytherin strut into the library, but alongside was Hermione. He blinked several times, as if trying to clear the image. But it remained the same—Hermione was now sitting with Scabior at a vacant table, looking dually annoyed and hopeful.

He watched them for several moments. They discussed and bantered, grinned and frowned. The longer he watched, the more irritated he became. She had done this before, with so many others. He knew her to have spoken with Regulus. The marauders. Scabior. And himself.

What was Hermione Granger doing in 1975?

Severus closed his eyes, warding off the intense wave of anger. It was foolish to behave this way. She had a purpose here, and one that the greatest sorcerer of all time had bestowed upon the young girl. She was brave, he would give her that.

But when he watched Hermione lean dangerously close to the Slytherin, completely enraptured, Severus had had enough.

Betrayal. Yes, that was what it was. Not to himself, but to their friendship. Secret or not, she had hurt him. She would have been better off not being friends with him at all. Not if she knew him in the future. Not when he had been her professor.

The joke he had made with him calling her 'professor' during their lesson now made him sick.

She had fooled them all, including Severus, and it was not something he could tolerate for very long. It felt like she'd fooled him, tricked him, into being her friend.

Angry, betrayed, and utterly alone, Severus swiftly exited the library and headed towards the dungeons.

It was at this inopportune moment that Severus bumped heavily against a group of boys. "Watch where you're going," he hissed dangerously, and noticed when it was too late that he had bumped into Potter and Black.

"I'd watch myself if I were you," Potter said narrowly.

"Hold your tongue, filth," Severus growled. It was Sirius who spoke next, his expression blank and his words full of mockery.

"You should invest in some shampoo, Snivelly. It'll take me weeks to get these grease stains out of my robes." Immediately Severus drew out his wand, and Sirius had his out instantly.

"Give me one good reason not to hex you purple," Severus said softly. Sirius and James stared down at Severus fiercely.

"I hope I qualify as a good reason," a kind voice interrupted. Sirius and Severus jumped back, eyes wide as they stared at the headmaster not three feet away from them. Immediately they stuffed their wands in their robes, not daring to look at each other.

Dumbledore's eyes were bright and knowing, and his hands were folded behind his back. He stepped forward and looked at them gently. "I would hope that my students would focus their magic towards their exams, rather than on each other."

"Yes sir," Sirius and Severus said in unison.

"Sorry, sir," Sirius added quietly. Dumbledore nodded genially and watched as Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus began quickly walking away. Sirius shot one last loathing look at Severus while Dumbledore had his head turned, and disappeared.

Severus knew he should leave now, for he did not want a longer conversation with the headmaster than necessary. But something in him stopped his movements, and he found himself gazing at the wizened old man. This wizard, in twenty years' time, would be responsible for sending a teenaged girl into the past? He could not believe that Dumbledore would ever do something so foolish, and yet…he had. And Severus, for all he was worth, was going to stare at the man until he understood why.

Dumbledore caught his gaze and his smile brightened. "Is there anything you wanted to say, Mr. Snape?"

"No sir," Severus said automatically.

"Are you certain?"

Severus looked at Dumbledore for a moment before replying, "Yes, sir." Quietly, before he could say another word, Severus turned around and walked away from Professor Dumbledore.

He did not entirely like what he found in those bright, blue eyes.

xxx

The day Hermione was dreading the most had finally arrived.

The O.W.L.s were nearing their end. It was the second to last one now—Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was surprisingly easier this time, considering her own O.W.L.s had been with Umbridge, and Fred and George had set off fireworks in the examination room. A missing Dumbledore, Peeves cackling like mad up and down the halls, and Harry collapsing shortly afterward—it had been chaotic. It had been the worst day of her fifth year, for it was shortly after that was when they'd gone to the Department of Mysteries.

But Hermione was not afraid of zapping to the Ministry of Magic this time, nor was Dolores Umbridge her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. No, she was dreading what she knew was to happen this day—unless her presence in this decade had changed at least that much.

She glanced between Severus and Sirius, then James. They seemed to be willfully ignoring each other, focused intently on their exams. Sirius was far too relaxed for his own good, but she knew well enough that he was in the top five percent of his class already. He gloated with good reason.

Suppressing a sigh, Hermione redirected her attention to the exam. It was filled entirely with her neat handwriting, little notes and explanations flooding the pages. She had finished fifteen minutes ago, and was going through her third revision. Handing it in early seemed far too overconfident, so Hermione decided to bide her time and wait.

"Quills down," Professor Flitwick squeaked, indicating the examination was now over. There were several panicked squeaks and even more sighs of relief. Hermione remained silent, stretching her arms a bit before lowering her quill to the desk.

Finally, it was over.

The daunting thought was accompanied with the amount of information Scabior had revealed to her last week. They had finished the Charms essays together, (she had done most of the writing; Scabior had dozed through nearly all of it), and in between writings he would tell more and more about the curse. He did not tell her the counter spell to fiendfyre. It was incredibly frustrating. To be so close but not at all.

Patience, Hermione repeated to herself. A little bit of patience was all she needed. Soon, soon, she would know. But she had to be patient.

Hermione was packing her things when a sudden burning sensation pressed against her chest. Gasping, Hermione lifted her hands to her throat and stiffened, tremors running up and down her frame.

"Hermione?" Sirius stopped near her, frowning.

She managed a pained smile. This hadn't happened in months; Merlin, she hated this feeling. Cruciatus after effects were miserable.

"Are you alright?" he said with concern, moving closer.

Hermione looked away as another electric burst of pain rocked through her. "Fine. I'm fine."

His eyes roved over her, thinking. "Is this like…like before? On your first day?"

"I'll be fine, Sirius." Hermione forced her body to move to her will and slipped the strap to her bag around her shoulders. Sirius grew quiet, and with a short nod, left the room.

Her gaze wandered over to Severus. His nose had been barely an inch away from the parchment, but he now straightened in his seat and set his quill down. His hair flopped to the other side, stringy and shinier than usual, his expression blank and unusually drawn. He caught her stare before she could look away, and Hermione shifted in embarrassment.

Another shudder ran through her, this time hotter and even more painful, and Hermione's eyes squeezed shut. When they reopened Severus looked alarmed. He gave her a questioning look—god, she'd missed it, her heart twisting—and Hermione shook her head.

She spared no glance at anybody else went straight to Gryffindor tower. Choking out the password, Hermione stumbled inside and ran up the flight of stairs to her dormitory, and fell to her bed. She yelped when it brought no relief. Suddenly, she noticed something peculiar—a light, coming from beneath her bed. Eyes wide with disbelief, Hermione sank to her knees and threw out her trunk. It burned at the touch and Hermione whipped out her wand, disabling the enchantments and bringing out what she feared to retrieve.

The horcrux was glowing.

Hermione's breath was stolen away. How? Why was this…? Hermione dared not touch it, lest it harm her even more than it already was. The diadem was glowing, as if being superheated to an unimaginable temperature.

Suddenly, dread filled Hermione.

She had felt the pain of this glowing. Her body knew that the horcrux was acting up. Her body had known.

In horror, Hermione quickly threw the diadem back inside the trunk and placed the extra charms back on it. It still glowed faintly from underneath her bed, alive and beating.

She needed to destroy the horcrux fast. And Scabior would be the only way.

xxx

"Very well, everybody, you are free to go!" Flitwick squeaked finally, having forgotten to announce it at one point after falling deeply into conversation with a nearby fifth-year. The students cheered and started piling out of the room.

"Did you like question ten, Moony?" Sirius asked with a grin. He relished in the new nickname, one of four that they had come up with amongst themselves.

"Think I did," said Remus seriously, as they joined the crowd around the front doors and anxious to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: he's sitting on my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin."

Remus grinned when his friends laughed, feeling lighter than he ever had before. Having his friends accompany him on his last transformation had changed everything. He had not thought it possible, but he had never felt more alive.

Peter was the only one who looked thoughtful.

"I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail,' he said anxiously, 'but I couldn't think what else –"

"How thick are you, Wormtail?" said James impatiently. "You run around with a werewolf once a month –"

"Keep your voice down," implored Lupin.

"I happened to be joking," Peter said dryly.

They all wandered outside, settling down by the Black Lake near a mossy tree. Severus had been trailing behind, however, his attention distracted by the exam paper in his hands. He plopped himself down by a set of bushes, nearly overshadowed by them as he hunched down.

Sirius, leaning against the tree, announced, "I'm bored. Wish it was the full moon."

Remus gave Sirius a dark look. "You might. We still have Transfiguration next. Be useful and test me."

Sirius gave a pinched look to the outstretched book and shook his head. "I don't need to look at that rubbish. I remember everything just fine."

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," James said quietly. Sirius followed James's line of sight, and smiled.

"Excellent," he murmured. "Snivellous."

Snape was currently busy reading over his examination, a frown etching his forehead. What most would not know, however, was the concern lurking in his eyes as he periodically cast glances up towards the Gryffindor tower. He knew Hermione had fled there as quickly as she could, before Flitwick could even properly dismiss them, and while he had misgivings for her, he could not squash the tremor of concern he had for her pained look before she left.

It was this distraction that caused Severus to fail to notice Sirius and James's intent stares. Remus frowned in disapproval as he looked up from the book he'd been pouring into.

"You just spoke with Dumbledore," Peter protested, but to deaf ears. Remus wanted more than anything to go back to his book, wishing that his friends would not do what he feared they would. And as much as he wished, he knew he would not be reading a single word on the page if he were to try. Silently he closed the book, and rose to his feet.

"Don't," he warned quietly to Sirius. Sirius half-glanced in Remus's direction, and appeared as if he was considering his words, but his expression changed and he turned away.

"All right, Snivellous?" James asked loudly.

Severus stiffened, the paper shaking in his hand. It was spoken differently than before. A challenge. Something he had not heard in a very long time, not since…

The incident where Hermione had intervened.

"Finally off your leash, Potter?" Severus said quietly, folding the paper into his bag. "Did Granger reward you for being a good little boy these past few months?"

James, who had no real plans to do more harm than poke fun at his arch-enemy, suddenly grew stiff with anger. Both drew out their wands simultaneously, but Severus was a half-second too late. Before he could utter a spell, James shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Severus's wand flew twelve feet away.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, and shouted, "Impedimenta!" when Severus made a dive for his wand. Remus rushed beside Sirius and gripped his arm tightly, as if in warning.

"You—wait," Severus panted, looking up at James and Sirius with pure loathing, "you—wait!"

"Wait for what?" said Sirius coolly. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"

"That's enough, Sirius," Remus said quietly.

They winced when Severus let out a slew of curses, and James grimaced.

"Wash your mouth, if not your head," said James coldly. "Scourgify!"

Severus choked wildly as pink soap bubbles filled and foamed in his mouth, gagging him—

"Leave him ALONE!"

James stiffened immediately, turning to the source of the shout with a fidget.

"All right, Evans?" he asked kindly, as if Snape was not lying on the ground writhing.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated angrily. "What's he done to you?"

"It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean," James tilted his head thoughtfully, speaking more to himself than to her.

"You think you're so cool," Lily shook her head in disgust. "You're just a bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

"And what do I get in return?" James inquired softly.

Lily glowered. "If you're going off on me dating you, it's never going to happen. Now let him go."

James shook his head. "Ah, ah. Name your price."

Lily was revolted. "Has your sister taught you nothing? You're just the same, vile creature you were at the beginning of the year. I thought you had changed."

James appeared hurt for the first time that evening, and began to reconsider the wand in his hand that was point towards Severus. Conflicted, he began to lower his wand, when Severus lunged free from the spell and shot a curse at James that just barely nicked his cheek.

"OI!" Sirius shouted, and threw a spell at him that caused him to levitate in the air, frozen.

"STOP!" Lily screamed. "You let him down right now. Now!"

James, who had been silent, removed the spell and Severus fell to his knees. "You're lucky Evans was here," James muttered.

And before he could stop them, prevent the wretched words from spilling from his lips, Severus allowed the humiliation and defeat raging in his body overtake his mind, as he yelled:

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Lily blinked. "Fine," her voice was even. "I won't bother in the future. Continue."

"Apologize to her!" James and Sirius roared.

"I don't want you to make him apologize!" Lily rounded on James. "You're just as bad!"

"What?" James spluttered. "I would never call you a—you-know-what!"

Lily shook her head in plain disgust. "Strutting about the halls messing with your hair, hexing students in the corridors because you think them beneath you—you will get nowhere in life, James Potter. You make me SICK."

She ran to the castle, and before anyone could think to stop him, Severus bolted after her.

Remus looked away from James and Sirius, and met Peter's eyes briefly. He bent down and picked up the forgotten book, and walked away.

xxx

Hermione had finally calmed down enough to feel the tremors fade from her body. The horcrux had stopped glowing on its own. Why in the name of Merlin did it glow? And why was Hermione able to feel it?

Hermione jumped from her thoughts when the dormitory door slammed open.

"Lily?" Hermione asked cautiously as Lily began throwing on her night clothes.

"If you hear banging outside the portrait hole, tell him to go away," Lily said stiffly. Her eyes appeared puffy, but otherwise she was completely calm. Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

"Lily?" she repeated, but to no avail. Lily collapsed on her bed, back turned to Hermione, and pretended to fall asleep. Heart thudding wildly, Hermione sprang from her bed and leapt down the staircase into the common room.

"Hermione," Remus said suddenly. She looked at him in a panic, and Remus was taken aback. "I—I'm…" he trailed, as if saying more was useless. She glanced briefly at James and Sirius, who were sitting quietly by the fireplace, when she heard loud banging on the portrait hole.

Marching towards it with her stomach fluttering wildly, she opened the door.

Severus was sitting cross-legged before the door. His clothes were in complete disarray, his head in his hands, and seemed to be waiting.

"Severus?"

He looked up immediately, his eyes desperate.

"I didn't mean to," he rasped wildly, eyes bloodshot as if he had been crying. "I have to tell her I'm sorry. I didn't mean a single word. Could you—could you tell her I'm here?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, and whispered, "Oh, Severus," she said softly. "She's not coming."

He stilled at her words, and for a very long time they remained that way, their eyes connected for an eternity. Then his eyes misted over, as if lost in thought, and he looked numbly away.

"I'll stay all night," he murmured inaudibly. Hermione shuffled hesitantly toward him, unsure what to do. This was the first he had spoken to her since their Occlumency lesson, and she didn't want to damage more than what was already broken.

Tentatively, she sat on her knees beside him. She patted his shoulder gently, shocked at the trembling she found there. His face was expressionless and his eyes dry, but there was a numbness and a terror inside him that Hermione had never seen in Severus before.

He had done what she had feared. Nothing, not even her, could stray from what fate had already ingrained in the fabric of time. Severus was shaking, and Hermione understood just how much Lily meant to him. She would have felt the same for Ron, if the roles were reversed. It was friendship rooted deeply, winding and twining together until they became inseparable. And Snape had severed the only bond he ever loved.

They stayed there until it became dark. It was only until a prefect had warned to give them detention that she managed to get Severus to his feet. She kept a gentle but firm grip on his forearm as she walked with him to the dungeons. He was terrifyingly silent throughout the journey.

As they stopped before the entrance of the Slytherin dorm, Severus rounded on Hermione. Eyes wide, he said urgently, "I didn't mean it, Hermione. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, and I don't mean it for you."

Hermione, heart clenching, replied, "I know, Severus."

A flicker of recognition showed briefly in his eyes, before they returned to the dull, deadened gaze.

"So it would seem."

Notes:

*NOTE: Quotes used directly and indirectly from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix belong only to J.K. Rowling. I merely used it as a plot device, and claim no ownership.

Chapter 12: Fiendfyre

Chapter 12

Fiendfyre

The morning began with rain.

Dreary clouds overcast England, dark and billowing in sweeping movements. An occasional rumble of thunder could be heard, preceded by a quick flash of light.

The Noble House of Black was silent except for a faint sound in the kitchen. A small, squash-nosed elf was scrubbing the floor vigorously, his eyes flicking nervously to his mistress between strokes.

As if sensing his gaze, two sharp, black eyes bore into the house elf and a frown twisted on regal features.

"Faster, Kreacher!" she hissed in distaste. "I can't have this place filthy with our guests arriving!" She froze when a clap of thunder vibrated against the windows. She seemed to be holding her breath, and very slowly, walked to the window to peer outside.

Sighing in relief, she drew away and resumed her post near the little elf, who was now scrubbing so desperately that welts were starting to form on his hands.

The mistress of Black Manor smoothed her clothes, relishing the finery of the fabric as she struggled to calm her nerves. The master of the house was still away at business—she scoffed angrily at the thought—but no matter. She did not need him.

Two loud cracks were heard outside, and she flew to the window. Eyebrows furrowing, she ordered the elf to get the door.

Two women dressed in similarly gaunt clothing sauntered inside the manor. One had dark, curly hair that ran down to the middle of her back, her mouth slanting down with disdain; the other had silken blonde hair and a deep frown etching on her face, though very beautiful all the same. Both were similar yet very different, as they stood silently.

"You," the mistress of the house said coldly, "are late."

"Good to see you too, Aunt Walburga," the curly-haired woman said dryly.

Walburga Black's eyes narrowed as she stared at the two ladies. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if they arrived before you, Bellatrix?"

"Maybe."

"A small idea," the fair-haired woman also replied.

"Don't give me cheek, Narcissa," said Walburga sharply. "The ring on your finger is going to your head."

"She's right, Cissy," the dark-haired woman agreed. "The way you and Malfoy behave almost sickens me."

"Everything sickens you," said Narcissa with a sniff. "Forgive me for being fond of my husband."

"Watch your tongue—"

"Enough."

The two women silenced, and Walburga looked at them severely before turning and walking into the living room. Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, who were in fact sisters, followed suit.

Narcissa walked into the room and gazed at the wall, lined with fading wallpaper. "You've blasted Sirius," she observed as her fingers traced the scorch marks where a handsome face used to be. Her eyes traveled down further. "And Alphard."

"They are no longer family to us." Walburga's voice was cold.

"More blood traitors," Bellatrix scowled. "Where did that brat go?"

"The Potters."

Bellatrix's expression darkened, when suddenly a loud crack was heard outside.

Walburga stilled. Calmly, she said, "Open the door, Kreacher."

Kreacher, who had been silently listening to the exchange while polishing the furniture, bowed deeply. "Yes, mistress."

A man and a woman sauntered into the living room. Bellatrix, who had been very still, began to smile.

"Carrows," she stated with a slight curl of her mouth. "I expected a bit…more."

"You'll get your wish," the squat female hissed as she drew out her wand.

"Not now, Alecto," the man said sharply, halting her arm from rising. "We have business to attend to." He loosened his grip when she lowered her wand. Turning to Bellatrix, he asked bluntly, "Are you ready?"

"What do you think?" Bellatrix nearly snarled.

"We will search the house," he answered with a slight growl, eyes narrowing on Narcissa. "To ensure the Dark Lord is protected, and that your loyalty is…sound. And what of you?" He jerked his head towards Narcissa.

"Do not speak to my sister like some common witch!" Bellatrix shouted. Narcissa raised a fine brow.

"I am here as a witness," she replied evenly. "As family, it is only right."

"You will not be taking the mark, then?" Alecto's face had taken to a nasty smile. "This will be interesting. Let's go, Amycus. We have to check the house." Alecto did not wait for Amycus to follow, and marched up the staircase as he sauntered about the first floor.

Bellatrix turned her head slightly. "Cissy," she muttered quietly. "It would be best to keep your gaze lowered when he arrives. That fool of a Carrow has a point; you haven't taken the mark."

"But my husband has," she answered equally quietly. "That will be loyalty enough."

Bellatrix looked as if she wanted to say more, but pressed her lips together in a thin line.

Walburga watched the exchange silently. Within a minute the Carrows returned, and Alecto appeared to be slightly disappointed.

"Clean," Amycus declared. He lifted his sleeve and pressed his wand to his forearm. Suddenly a black skull with a snake protruding from its mouth sprouted on his skin, moving in ripples against the tip of the wand.

A single knock was heard against the door. Kreacher did not need to be commanded to open it. The air was thick with tension, as a tall, cloaked figure walked into the room.

All present in the room bowed immediately. Bellatrix had her nose nearly pressed to the floor.

"Rise," a cold voice commanded.

They straightened. "My lord," Bellatrix breathed. "It is truly an honor."

Lord Voldemort watched her, the corner of his mouth twitching. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale and sallow against the dark cloak draped over him. His eyes were narrowed, red-rimmed and calculating, and they bore through Bellatrix as though he could see through her.

"Yes," he answered quietly. "I can see that."

He stepped forward slowly, his eyes pausing over every face. His gaze landed on the Carrows, and they flinched slightly. "Leave."

They were gone immediately. Voldemort stepped closer, until he stood directly in front of Bellatrix. "The witness?"

Narcissa took a small step forward. "I am here, my lord."

She dared not raise her eyes. Though he had done nothing yet, barely even raised his voice, Narcissa felt her body trembling slightly. The dark aura he emitted, just from his presence…she had never felt anything like it.

"I believe a congratulations is in order," said Voldemort, though his words sounded more like mockery. There was a subtle sneer to them, an icy coldness that swept down Narcissa's spine like an electrical current. Hesitantly, she raised her eyes.

"Thank you, my lord," she murmured. He stared at her briefly, and she remembered hearing from Lucius that he could read minds. She kept her thoughts carefully blank, knowing it would not be enough, but hoped he didn't actually care enough to peruse her thoughts.

The latter seemed to prove true, for Voldemort looked away in dismissal and returned his attention to Bellatrix. He reached inside his robes, and the three women stiffened. When he withdrew his hand, a silver pouch was enclosed in his long fingers.

"Your arm, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix, nearly breathless with joy, silently raised her arm. Voldemort raised his own and clasped her upper arm as she followed suit. Narcissa stepped forward and took out her wand, but jolted in surprise when Voldemort snapped his head to look at her. "I will be speaking the terms."

"Of—of course," Narcissa agreed quickly.

Voldemort returned his gaze to Bellatrix. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he said softly, and Narcissa pointed the tip of her wand at their joined arms, "do you swear to protect my possession with your life, and pledge absolute loyalty to Lord Voldemort?"

"I swear," she whispered, and a fine silvery string slithered out of Narcissa's wand and wound itself around their arms.

"Do you swear to keep its location hidden to all but me?"

"I swear." Another string wound itself around them.

"Do you promise to show no mercy for any who dares to attempt thievery of this possession?"

"I swear."

"Should you fail, Bellatrix," Voldemort's tone had gone abnormally quiet, yet it still resounded in the room as if magnified in the terrifying silence, "your punishment will be death."

Narcissa saw it, finally—a flicker of fear. A brief second of reality, of understanding her position and its consequences. Narcissa knew her sister to be intelligent, and had wondered how she let her fanaticism with Lord Voldemort cloud her so completely—but it wasn't until the flicker of fear dissolved into a resolute stare of devotion, did the answer dawn upon Narcissa.

The last of the binding magic leaked from the wand tip, and Voldemort immediately withdrew his arm in distaste. He pressed the pouch into Bellatrix's hands, a sort of cruel smile playing at his lips, and said, "Do not disappoint me."

"I will not, my lord," Bellatrix said firmly.

"I dare say not…nearly to your knees you were, to take upon such a task for me…"

"It is the greatest honor, to do any of Lord Voldemort's bidding!" Bellatrix said passionately.

"Honor, yes…will this shroud the dishonor that is marring the name of your ancestry, I wonder? Are there not three blood traitors in your family now? And one even married a muggle…"

"My sister is dead to me!" Bellatrix shrieked, her face stricken with horror. "I do not associate myself with the likes of Andromeda any longer. She is a disgrace to the name of wizard—"

Voldemort looked away from her, disinterested. His cold eyes traveled to Narcissa, then finally landed on the Walburga, who had been watching silently at the end of the room.

The effect was immediate. Her back straightened and she lifted her head, though her eyes held the same cold sliver of fear that mirrored Narcissa's. Voldemort made no move towards her, but merely asked softly, "Do you bear good news, Walburga? I have heard from my followers…whispers of allegiance and abandonment…"

"My youngest, my lord," Walburga answered strongly. "He is keen to your teachings. I anticipate his loyalty to you will be a fast one."

"I need your certainty. You have one month."

He was gone. Walburga visibly withered, her hand reachiing behind to support herself against the wall. Bellatrix was doing a fine mix of terror and awed silence, her pale fingers gripping the bag Voldemort had entrusted with her fiercely. Narcissa was swimming with confusion and fear: why had Voldemort not questioned upon her not taking the Dark Mark?

"I must write to Regulus," Walburga said unsteadily, a break from her usually stern character. "I must…yes, excuse me…."

Narcissa barely noticed her departure. Bellatrix seemed to have finally snapped from her reverie, as she now was looking at her sister with emblazoned eyes. "Time to go, Cissy. Our work here is done."

"I must see to Lucius," Narcissa replied distractedly, shrugging her arm away before Bellatrix could grab hold of it. "You heard the Dark Lord. Your task is secret. I cannot know its whereabouts."

Bellatrix looked as if she wanted to protest, but merely pressed her lips together in a line as she realized it was true. Narcissa wasted no time in leaving Grimmauld Place, and darted into a darkened alley before Apparating to her home.

The only indication of her distress was the slight tremble in her hands. She found Lucius in the study, and felt relief wash over her immediately at the sight of him. He looked up at her arrival and a small smile twitched at his lips.

"My dear," he began gaily, but froze when he took in her countenance. "Did something happen at the meeting?"

"No," she attempted a strong voice. "None at all."

Lucius sagged in relief. He strode from his desk and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Our lord is gracious," he whispered, "and to his word. You must have pleased him."

Narcissa would argue that she didn't think it was possible for Voldemort to be pleased, but held her tongue. "Did you say something to him, Lucius? He did not—he didn't ask—"

"I asked for your pardon," Lucius answered quickly. "I assured your loyalty, and that you would not need to take the mark while in the works of having a child."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "But I'm not—"

"I chose my words carefully," Lucius assured as he ran his fingers lightly through her blonde hair. "This is a happy day, Narcissa. You're safe."

Somehow, Narcissa could not fully believe him.

xxx

It was perhaps the most silent day thus far in Hogwarts.

Which was strange, because everyone was speaking. The Marauders chatted amiably during class and mealtimes; Lily had asked Remus for a spare quill when her tip disintegrated in Potions class, and Hermione had spent another evening in the library during lunch with Scabior as he explained the long history of his family while she helped outline his Charms essay. It was an average, productive day, yet the amount of unspoken words blared loudly enough that Hermione could almost feel them graze against her.

A full week had passed since the incident with Lily and Severus. The latter had resorted to absolute seclusion, seen only in classes and at supper. He had begun spending more time with his Slytherin friends, ones Hermione knew would be up to no good in the future, out in the courtyard between classes. He didn't appear to say much, merely sat and watched them with a deadened gaze as they conversed and tormented the poor first years silly enough to cross their path.

She had also noticed Sirius throwing glances at the Slytherin table as well. At first she thought he was still brooding about Severus, but after discreetly following his line of vision, she realized this was not true. She could not make out who it was he was looking at, but considering Severus was sitting at the very end of the table, she ruled him out.

Had Hermione turned around completely, she would have noticed Sirius's gaze was set firmly on his younger brother. If anyone else noticed, they did not comment—it was no secret that the Black brothers did not get along, after all.

Sirius was not feeling any of this at the moment. He was focused more on a letter clutched tightly in Regulus's hand underneath the table, after the family owl had swooped down during supper and dropped the envelope onto his plate. It remained unopened, but Sirius recognized this particular insignia immediately.

He waited after the last bell to pull Regulus aside in a darkened corridor.

Regulus immediately drew out his wand, but Sirius easily waved it aside with a disarming spell. Angry at having been beaten so quickly Regulus snarled, "What?"

"I saw Celsus deliver a letter today. Good news?"

Regulus regarded Sirius contemptuously. "The best," he said through his teeth. "Now, if you would—"

Sirius grabbed his elbow to stop him. "Regulus," he dropped his voice. "You know you always have a choice, right?"

For a moment the cold exterior cracked, and Regulus's expression was troubled. "It's not that easy."

Sirius shook his head, his grip loosening. He places both hands on Regulus's shoulders, drawing him closer. "It is. I know what letter you received today, brother. I know its contents, for I received the same one before Christmas." A flash of anger crossed his face, and his grip tightened on Regulus's shoulders. "It's too soon," he growled. "I don't understand why they're starting so early with you."

"Your decline seems to have burdened me with its consequences," Regulus answered, his voice oddly detached.

Sirius drew his head back, his eyes narrowing as his mind worked rapidly. "Are you…do you mean to say, you've changed your mind? You don't fancy this path anymore? Even the dark arts?"

"There is no dark arts, Sirius. There is only magic," Regulus snapped. "I like to practice every part of it. Is that so wrong of me?"

"Only if you use it to hurt. For your own selfish, hungry gain."

Regulus grew quiet.

"How long do you have?" asked Sirius, dropping his hands to his sides.

Regulus closed his eyes. "One month."

Surprised flickered through Sirius's eyes, but he grimly clenched his jaw. "You are a smart boy, Regulus. Once you're in, it will be permanent. You know that your only release will be death."

A cold shiver ran down Regulus's spine. Swallowing, he stiffened his posture and stepped back from Sirius. Without another word, Regulus strode away.

Sirius's gaze lingered on his retreating back, his eyes lost in thought and deeply troubled. He headed back the common room and brooded on a squishy armchair by the fireplace.

Had Regulus genuinely changed his mind? It was still unclear. He looked hesitant, that much was certain. And the way he said it…to be burdened…

The most Sirius could confirm was that Regulus did not expect this. At least, not so soon. He'd probably thought he would have more time; more time to understand, or to be persuaded otherwise…

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of loud voices.

"Why not just talk to him? He's been your friend since you were children—"

"I don't want to talk to him, Hermione."

"He's been lurking by the Fat Lady's portrait for a week now, Lily. I can't keep derailing him. This has to be discussed sooner rather than later."

Sirius glanced up towards the corner of the room, where Lily and Hermione were having a very intense conversation.

Lily was studiously doing her homework with Hermione; the latter appeared torn between two sides, and the former was working with grim determination. Sirius resisted the urge to shake his head. He knew Hermione to be a very smart witch. Why was she still encouraging a friendship between Snape and Lily after what he'd called her? After the loyalty he had always displayed to the dark arts?

Sirius wondered on his own actions after Lily's outburst on James. At the time it had seemed like good fun, and an even better distraction…but now….

Lily finally looked up and said something quietly. Hermione's expression changed, and she murmured something in return. Lily nodded. Both girls sighed and sagged in their seats, and Hermione appeared to have resigned her efforts. Lily rubbed her eyes and began packing her things, calling in for an early night and bidding her friends farewell.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the wooden seat, stretching out to relieve the tension between her shoulders. She too gathered her things, but did not put them away in her bag. Instead, she wandered over to the armchairs where Sirius was sitting, seeming to have not noticed Sirius. He wondered if she would have chosen to sit here if she had.

When she sank down on the armchair, she flipped open a very large textbook and buried herself in it. Sirius briefly thought of his own schoolwork. There wasn't as much anymore after taking the O.W.L.s, but still enough to cause a headache. Sirius sighed in defeat and took out his wand.

"Accio schoolbag," he said quietly, and watched his bag come flying from his dormitory and deposit itself onto his lap. His voice startled Hermione, who finally turned to see him sitting near her.

She paused briefly before saying, "Hello."

Sirius nodded his head in acknowledgement as she looked away. They worked in undisturbed silence for twenty minutes, both getting absorbed in their schoolwork. It wasn't until Sirius heard a sharp hiss that he looked up.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione seemed to be fighting down a grimace as she clutched her hand to her chest. "Fine."

Sirius scanned her over, noticing the sweat that had broken out on her brow. "Is this…is this the…?"

Hermione looked at him questioningly before understanding what he meant. She shook her head. "These aren't the after effects of the Cruciatus," she assured quietly. "Those were much, much more intense. You remember."

"So it's something else, then?" Sirius prodded. Hermione remained tight-lipped. "Is this the same from the O.W.L.s?"

Hermione only stared at him, before nodding once. She bit her lip as she did so. She must have been in much pain to set aside her stubbornness and admit it to him.

"Come on," he stood and held his hand. "You have to see Madame Pomfrey."

"No."

"Hermione, don't be foolish. You have to get this checked out, especially if you don't know what it is."

"I don't want to."

Sirius glowered at Hermione as she looked up at him stubbornly. "Well you can't be feeling good staying in here. Why not walk it off? We still have an hour before curfew."

Hermione eyed him dubiously. She seemed to think it over, and glanced up at the girls' dormitory. "Maybe…maybe I should take a walk. It could help…."

Sirius suppressed a sigh of relief. "Let's go then."

Hermione paused to look at him warily. "You still want to go with me?"

Sirius frowned. "Why not?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Sirius sighed inwardly. Right.

"Well, if you don't want me to come with you, that's…also fine."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Some company would do me good. Let's go." She stared in surprise as Sirius helped her up, and walked with her to the portrait.

"Any place in particular you had in mind?" Sirius asked, in effort to fill the awkward silence.

"None in particular."

Sirius shoved his hand in his hair, not knowing how to go about this. It used to be much easier talking to Hermione, before the Christmas incident. He actually enjoyed her company. It wasn't until now that he realized how much.

But it was different now. And while he was the reason, so was she.

"The Astronomy tower," Hermione declared suddenly, ripping Sirius from his thoughts. She looked up at him firmly. "I'd like to go there for a while."

Sirius nodded. It was a good place to think, standing high above in seclusion, the expanse of Hogwarts grounds lying before them with its rolling hills and glimmering stars. He often came up here himself when he wanted to sort out his thoughts.

When they arrived the sun was just starting to dip behind the horizon. Colors of red and purple streaked across the sky, illuminating the tower as if it were on fire. Hermione immediately went to lean against the edge, the cool wind caressing her upturned face. Sirius watched her serene expression, the way her hair fluttered gently against the breeze. It felt too similar to a dream, enough to make him forget for a moment, the mystery that shrouded around the young girl.

"I feel so out of my depth lately."

The admittance caught Sirius off-guard. He hadn't expected her to speak to him, thinking she would prefer the solace of the fresh air over conversation with someone who had been as unkind to her as Sirius.

"How do you mean?" Sirius asked carefully.

Hermione turned her head to look at him, her eyes boring into his. "I haven't enough time. Things I wanted to complete this year…and there are people who are struggling that I want to help, but nothing I do makes a difference. Not a large difference, in the long scheme of things," she muttered the last under her breath, but Sirius made no comment. "I've been here for nearly 10 months, and yet it feels like I haven't achieved anything."

Sirius watched her look away in frustration, as if she hadn't meant to tell him those things. He wasn't sure what she was talking about, but the frustration in her expression and tiredness of her voice were genuine.

"I'm not sure what you're exactly referring to," Sirius answered slowly, "but from what you've said, I think you're expecting too much from yourself. You're trying to move mountains when you've only got a shovel."

Hermione did not reply. "Anyway," Sirius continued with a shrug, "we've just completed our O.W.L.s, haven't we? It's alright to take a break now."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "I would do anything to take a break."

Sirius watched her carefully. For once she was unguarded, vulnerable. Even at her most fragile state, she still had an aura of unapproachability. But this time, it was different.

Quietly, Sirius asked, "Who are you, Hermione?"

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "I'm nobody important."

"Hermione."

Her eyes snapped to his. "What do you want me to say, Sirius? What?"

"The bloody truth," said Sirius bluntly. "You've sat on this for months now. Why can't you answer me?"

"How about I do the same, then? Sirius Black, what happened to you before Christmas when you ran away from your family? Why did someone carve 'blood traitor' in your arm? What was that letter you tucked inside your robes on our first Hogsmeade visit? Where have you been going every night these past few months with Peter and James at the dead of night? What, not willing to answer?" Sirius glared at her mutely. "Of course not."

"That's not the same, and you know it."

"Isn't it, though? Alright. You recognize the scar on my knee. That means you've seen me before—you've deduced as much. Is that really a crime? And if you are that suspicious and that curious, figure it out on your own. I'm not going to tell you anything—at least, not right now. I'm not ready to. And you're just going to have to respect that."

"You admit it, then?" asked Sirius warily. "I'm not crazy. We've met before."

Hermione sagged, leaning against the ledge and pressing her hands to her temples. "Yes. Okay? Yes."

The silence that ensued stretched until the sun had nearly set. Finally, Sirius spoke, "The thing is, Hermione, with all the questions you just threw at me, I feel like you already know their answers."

"That's absurd. I don't know most of them."

"But you know someof them. You're a perceptive woman. Deadly perceptive. And you're brilliant, and you'd've figured out most of the bullshit that's been happening to me and my friends by now."

"I could say the same for you," Hermione looked at Sirius dead in the eye. "I think you just don't want to figure it out. You'd rather hear it aloud, and that's something I'm not willing to do right now."

Sirius's lips twitched. "You know me well." The smile faded. "And I don't know you at all."

"That's not my fault. You ignored me for five months."

"I've been cautious of you for five months. And you it goes both ways, you know. You've been avoiding me." Sirius looked away. "Look," he started, watching her frown deepen. "I'm very protective, Hermione. And the way you reacted when I asked you after the Chistmas party didn't reassure me. Tell me, if you were in my place, what would you have done?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Probably the same," she admitted reluctantly. "But then I would've figured out that someone who'd been tortured by Death Eaters and had their parents killed by them wasn't likely to be one, no matter who she tends to speak to in school."

Sirius winced slightly. "Touché." Sirius leaned against the wall tiredly. "I haven't been a good person this year. It's a fact. And I'm afraid I took most of it out on you."

"You're still good, and that's what matters. But you have dealt your frustrations on those who don't deserve it. Like last week with Severus."

Sirius's expression darkened immediately. "Now don't with that. You know what he said to Lily."

"I also know that you were the one to start picking on him. I know what he said, but that doesn't make what you did any better. He wasn't bothering anyone, and you just decided to target him with your bullying!"

"He would've done the same to me," Sirius retorted. "You don't know him like I do, Hermione. For five years he's been wheedling his way with the cruelest Slytherins, studying dark magic under candlelight, and using every chance he could to hurl a curse at us. It started out with us in retaliation."

"And it will end with you backing off. If Severus really was the instigator and the one at fault—fine. But that doesn't mean you give him the satisfaction of bringing you down with him."

"Why is it that whenever we talk, we end up lecturing each other?" said Sirius incredulously. "Is that who you are? 'Hermione: The Conscience of the People'."

Hermione snorted. "Hardly. It's not as if anyone in this bloody place ever listens to me."

"They do."

Sirius said it quietly enough to make Hermione look at him in confusion. "You really don't see it, do you? People listen to you, Hermione. James, Remus, hell, even Peter's stood out…it's like when you talk to someone, you change them a little."

"I don't," said Hermione weakly. "Really…"

"You do. You changed me a bit. You made Remus happier after the Shrieking Shack incident. You talk with the vilest members of Slytherin House and they aren't hexing you six ways to Sunday. That's what confused me so much, how everywhere you go, you change things. You said you didn't earlier, that nothing you do makes a difference, but you are so wrong. It's as if you're blind to the hidden animosity in this school, and in turn everyone is blind to the fact that you're a Gryffindor."

Hermione was shaking her head furiously. "Honestly, the way everyone talks about inter-House friendship sounds like it's a battlefield. They're still your classmates! It's okay to talk to whoever you want."

"But not everyone thinks like that," Sirius reminded. "And the Slytherins aren't known to be the friendliest bunch, not to mention what most of them end up being once they graduate."

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," Hermione said with a frown. It felt odd for her to say the words he'd told Harry, but perhaps it would teach him something. "I can understand from your upbringing, what you must think of anyone who's not the purest of heart. But I thought going to this school would make you see that there's more than one shade of good. It's not black and white."

"How do you do it?" Sirius began eyeing her as if she were a foreign creature from the Forbidden Forest. "People have been terrible to you, even your friends, yet you still have this unending optimism. You think the best of people, even when they won't think of it for themselves."

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. It's how I've always seen things. You have to look underneath the surface to understand who someone really is."

Sirius looked down, as if in deep thought. Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering if this conversation may have changed something between them. She was tired running back and forth from being a friend to being an enemy.

"Look, Sirius," Hermione's voice was tired, yet firm. "I'm not going to change what I've told you before. There are things about me nobody should know, especially right now. Nothing has changed. If you want to talk to me, that's fine. But I'm not going to chase after your friendship."

Sirius thought on this for a moment. "That's fair."

Hermione glanced away, staring off into the darkened horizon with a distant look that Sirius couldn't decipher. "This is the best we can do for now, I think. Mutual acknowledgement."

Sirius nodded. "It's getting dark. I don't want another reason for detention this late in the school year. Are you feeling better?"

"Hmm?" Hermione looked surprised for a second, before nodding briskly. "Oh, oh right. That. Yeah, it's definitely better. I think I needed to get out of that dormitory for a bit and stretch my legs."

"I'm glad it helped," Sirius stepped away from the ledge and headed to the staircase, beckoning Hermione after him. They walked in silently and swiftly, hoping a prefect—or worse, Filch—wouldn't catch them wandering around right after curfew. The conversation between Hermione and Sirius had ended up taking longer than expected, and the sun was long gone from the sky.

"This would be a lot easier with the cloak," Sirius muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Hermione was looking at him suspiciously.

"Ah, nothing, nothing. Just wishing I brought my cloak with me. It's a bit chilly."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

They reached the common room in one piece, bidding each other goodnight. Before Hermione could open the door to the girls' dormitory, Sirius caught her attention one last time.

"How'd you know?" Sirius prompted abruptly. Hermione gave him a questioning look. "About the letter. The one you said you saw me tuck in my robes the day we went to Hogsmeade for the first time. How did you know it was important?"

Hermione seemed to think over his questions carefully before responding. "You were in a very foul mood after receiving it," she said slowly. "You were stuffing it in your pocket as we were leaving our dorms. And then the whole—" Hermione gestured in the air, "—Hogsmeade incident happened."

Sirius nodded slowly. "And…do you have any idea what the contents of that letter could've been?"

Hermione did not say anything, her eyes wide, but they briefly flickered down to his forearm. Sirius went very still. Hermione was about to speak when Sirius continued, "My brother is fond of you."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Don't be ridiculous. He hates me."

"He doesn't waste his time around people." A bitter smile twisted his lips. "That's something my mother loves about him. How selective he is about whom he associates with. And he talks to you," Sirius noted, staring at her as if she was a particularly difficult puzzle. "You even met him Diagon Alley over the holidays."

"He insisted," Hermione shook her head distractedly. "And we don't even get along, Sirius. Your brother is damned annoying."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "That he is," he agreed. Sobering, he looked at her seriously. "I've jumped to a lot of conclusions about you, especially when it came to Regulus. I… think it would do him good if he talked to you."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What?" She let out a short laugh. "Why would I do that?"

Sirius shrugged, looking down. "Like I said, he speaks with you. Whether or not he's polite about it is irrelevant. He won't ever talk to me without feeling forced, and I know I'm not the one who can help him right now." Sirius shrugged again, this time with a sadness and resignation that Hermione rarely ever saw in him.

"I'll try," said Hermione, not knowing what else to say to reassure him. Talking about Regulus was the last thing Hermione had expected to discuss tonight with Sirius. The realization that there was something that had even Sirius out of his depth was alarming.

xxx

Hermione's back was still pressed against the wooden door to the girls' dormitory. She'd been standing there for at least ten minutes now, wishing with all her might that she didn't have to go up.

Any relief she'd felt in her walk to the Astronomy Tower was gone. The dull, stinging ache in her chest and the shadow over her mind returned full force, now that she was back in her dormitory. It also didn't help that the conversation with Sirius was still swimming in her mind, adding to the befuddlement.

Swallowing nervously, she slowly made her way upstairs, approaching her bed with utmost caution. Quickly she changed into her nightclothes, and drew back the covers and settled in bed.

She pressed her lips in a thin line, staring at the top of the four-poster blankly. She took even breaths and closed her eyes, hoping to distract herself.

Let's think…Sirius. Interesting conversation. Possible establishment of trust. It's good that he doesn't think I'm out to hurt anybody. What an arse.

The whispering started, and Hermione clenched the bed covers tightly. She could feel the darkness hovering over her, draining her dry like tumbleweed in a desert. She knew where it was coming from, knew that the answer lay hidden in the trunk under her bed, concealed with several enchantments to keep prying eyes out.

But she didn't realize she should've prepared to keep it in….

Hermione wracked her brain for answers, sifting through her years with Harry. Harry had been able to feel Voldemort's emotions through the burning of his scar, but that turned out to be because a part of Voldemort's soul had embedded itself into him. Then there was the ring that Dumbledore wore in her sixth year which he managed to destroy, at the price of a cursed hand that was slowly spreading. She didn't think Dumbledore would've had these problems with the horcrux acting up—then again, Albus Dumbledore was an exceptionally powerful wizard, so it was expected that he would not have the same problems…

Her thoughts began to drift as unruly sleep started to take over, her eyes drooping heavily…maybe just a little while….

She was in a library. It was enormous, the ceiling so high in the air that she could barely make it out its end; there were enchanted candles floating all around, and perhaps twenty levels of bookshelves with a grand staircase connecting to each one. The floors and walls were plated with gold, with rows and rows of desks spread neatly across the ground floor.

She was sitting on a high desk with a book in front of her. There was no title, which piqued Hermione's unfailing curiosity. Opening it carefully, she flipped through the pages and frowned when she realized nothing was written inside.

Closing the book with a loud snap, Hermione jumped to her feet and rushed to the staircase. Perhaps she could find something useful in this large library?

She walked up the stairs to the second floor, and began perusing the shelves. With each book she hefted into her hand, she felt bitter disappointment fill her as she discovered that every single book had nothing written inside. Desperately she began flinging books down, checking for words and finding nothing but blank pages.

She went to the next floor, and the next, and the next…she called for assistance but nobody came; completely alone in the large library with its empty books, Hermione began to cry.

A soft hand touched her shoulder, and a gentle voice asked, "Are you alright?"

She turned around in surprise, so shocked that she barely managed a glimpse of the first person she'd seen in the library, and her eyes promptly flew open.

Hermione was back in her dormitory, panting as if she'd been running for hours. Her forehead was slick with perspiration, and she swiped at it with trembling hands as Hermione desperately tried to gather her bearings.

The sight of a dressed and frowning Lily beside her bed filled her vision. "Oh good, you're awake. You'll be late for breakfast if you don't hurry down. It's already seven-thirty."

Hermione nodded distractedly, trying not to notice the look of concern on Lily's face as she slid from bed and headed to the lavatory. Her heart was pounding hard and her hands were still shaking as she splashed her face with water. Her mind conjured an image of piles and piles of books…but when she stretched for more, it was as if her mind shut itself off. Shaking her head, Hermione busied herself for the day and headed out of the dormitory.

By the end of breakfast, she didn't remember the dream at all.

xxx

Two rolls of parchment dropped unceremoniously on Scabior's lap. He looked up with a frown.

"Up," Hermione ordered, her arms folded across her chest in a very no-nonsense stance.

"Amazing as it might sound, even I can't do that on command," said Scabior dryly as he tried to block the sun with his hand.

Hermione's frown deepened. "Don't be disgusting. Come on, we have things to cover. You got your outline."

Scabior gave her a skeptical look and unrolled the parchment. He inspected it carefully, making sure to take as long as possible. Within minutes Hermione was tapping her foot impatiently and sighing in exasperation.

Scabior finally rolled the parchment back up in satisfaction. "Finished?" asked Hermione sarcastically, and Scabior nodded grimly.

"Looks about right. You're very antsy today—more than your usual amount, I mean."

"We have less than three weeks of the school year left," Hermione said with a note of impatience. "I don't want to waste any more time."

Scabior rolled his eyes. "What do you want to do today?"

"Show me the counter spell."

Scabior's eyebrows threatened to disappear behind his hairline. "What?"

Hermione clasped her hands neatly in front of her abdomen, and looked him straight in the eye. "The counter spell. I'd like to see it, please."

Scabior frowned suspiciously. "I thought you didn't want to learn how to do fiendfyre?"

"I'm not asking you to teach me to cast fiendfyre," Hermione corrected lightly. "I'd like to know what spell to should use to stop it."

"And why is that?"

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Academic curiosity."

Scabior began to laugh, and Hermione scowled. "I'm sorry love, but a family secret doesn't get that reputation by teaching silly Gryffindor girls how to cast it."

"Are you going back on your word?" Hermione's voice was very close to breaking. Scabior raised an eyebrow.

"No…but you need to give me a better reason to teach you something like that. How am I to trust that you won't go blabbing this to any old person? This is very powerful magic, Hermione, and I'm keen on keeping it out of other people's business."

"What would it take, then? Shall I make an oath?" was Hermione's next question.

Scabior blinked several times. "You're serious about this," said Scabior in genuine surprise. Hermione stared back resolutely. "Okay then. Yeah, I'd like an oath of secrecy. Do you have any parchment on you?"

Hermione nodded, and quickly extracted a piece of parchment and a quill. "Your terms?"

Scabior replied after a moment, "'I solemnly swear never to tell, show, or otherwise reveal to another living soul on how to cast and/or dispel the fiendfyre curse. I acknowledge and accept any and all consequences of breaking this contract.' Write that down."

Hermione scribbled furiously, and then signed the bottom. She quickly handed over the parchment to Scabior, who inspected it briefly before signing it as well. He took out his wand and pointed it to the paper, muttering a binding spell and smiled in satisfaction.

"Just so you know," he said lightly, "I really did think you were cleverer than this. All this fuss over a fiendfyre curse?"

Hermione did not reply. She tucked the parchment back in her bag, along with the quill and ink bottle, and closed it sharply. She looked at him brightly. "Shall we begin, then?"

Scabior nodded slowly, and told her they would need someplace secluded to practice. She told him there were many empty classrooms to work in, and could easily get permission from one of the professors to practice some simple spellwork before the summer began. As they headed inside the castle, Scabior could've sworn he saw a triumphant smile flash across Hermione's face.

Hermione was true to her word—she asked Professor Flitwick for permission to practice in an empty classroom, and he gave it with glad tidings. He seemed almost sentimental, muttering excitedly about 'brightest witch of her age' and 'excellent approach to longevity'.

Scabior shifted a little nervously as they stood before each other in the vacated room. Scratching the back of his head, he muttered, "I've never, er, taught anyone anything before. 'S a first for me."

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "You'll be fine. I'm a quick learner."

Scabior nodded, then cleared his throat. "Erm. Well, both fiendfyre and its counter spell have no verbal incantation. It's completely dependent on wand movement and intent—this is why both casting and stopping this curse is so difficult. Not many witches and wizards pay attention to the precision of wand movement, and not many of them are very bright."

Hermione nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to Scabior. "You were smart in asking for the counter spell first," he noted with a half-smile. "Best to know how to stop it before casting the actual flame.

"The way to go about casting the counter spell is purely on intent. Same goes for casting fiendfyre. You have to want it to happen, to picture in your mind either casting massive flames, or vanquishing it altogether."

"Okay," Hermione was looking down in deep thought. "So if I want to do the counter spell, I have to imagine extinguishing the fire completely?"

"Like pouring a bucket the size of Mount Everest onto a fire."

"Okay," Hermione repeated, shifting her weight as she closed her eyes in concentration. "Alright. This is almost like casting a Patronus charm, don't you think? You need to have a happy memory to cast a successful Patronus. Same with thinking deeply on an extinguished fire."

"I s'pose, yeah," Scabior shrugged. "Do you have the image in your mind?"

"Yes," said Hermione firmly, widening her stance.

"Now, look at the wand movement I'm about to do. It'll take you a couple of tries to get it right. It's sort of like a backwards seven, but the end trails off into a half-parabola. Watch."

Scabior raised his wand in complete concentration, and slashed his wand quickly in the air. It was exactly how he described it—but it was done so quickly, that Hermione had trouble following along. He showed it to her a few times.

"Got it?" He asked. Hermione nodded hesitantly. "It's alright to be unsure. Let me see it."

Hermione raised her wand in the air and almost began to wave it, when Scabior stopped her. "Higher. You're putting out an eternal flame, not a bloody campfire."

Hermione gritted her teeth but obeyed, lifting her wand higher in the air. "That's better," Scabior observed. "Now wave…" Hermione tried to mimic Scabior's wand movement as precisely and quickly as he'd done it, but knew from Scabior's frown that it hadn't been correct.

"Try doing it slower; that way you'll do it correctly and can just speed it up later. Here, I'll show you…"

For one grueling hour, Scabior made her repeat the motion of the wand movement. He showed her how to do it slowly, and would not relent until she perfected it. She learned quickly that Scabior was very much like Snape when she had him for Potions—stern, vicious, but a very thorough teacher.

"I think you're getting a hand of it," Scabior noted with a touch of pride. "Do you want to practice if it actually works on fire?"

Hermione's eyes widened in panic. "You mean on actual fiendfyre?" she said shrilly.

Scabior guffawed and shook his head. "Are you insane? In this classroom? It'll be a standard fire for you, sweetheart. The spell works mostly the same on it."

Scabior conjured firewood in the classroom and set it ablaze. It was a good foot taller than her, and Hermione swallowed convulsively. "Just do what you practiced, Granger," Scabior said beside her. Hermione held her wand high above her head, and pictured a large bucket of ice water extinguishing the fire. In three successive movements she slashed her wand in the air.

The crackle of the flame disappeared. Hermione looked on in amazement as the fire extinguished, and grinned at Scabior.

"I did it!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. She jumped on the balls of her feet, refraining from grabbing Scabior and making him do the same. "I put out the fire!"

"That you did," Scabior smiled widely. "But don't let this get your hopes up too high. The actual flame this spell is meant for will be a thousand times bigger and much more difficult to control. Fiendfyre has a mind of its own, and it won't go down without a fight."

Hermione nodded in understanding while her mind was brimming with excitement. After putting out a few more flames that Scabior conjured, some successful and some took more time, they both called it a day and agreed to practice again in a few days, after the Hogsmeade weekend.

After Hermione darted into her dormitory and prepared for bed, she took out a very large book (which probably would have been confiscated by now if she hadn't changed the title on the cover to something much more benign) and fished out a muggle pencil from the bottom of the trunk. Many of the pages were faded and the corner missing, as if the edges had been singed off violently. She practiced another set of wand movements with ease, something she'd been practicing for a while in secret. Its movements were akin to an infinity symbol, but a bit more complex.

After practicing until exhaustion, Hermione collapsed under the covers. And for the first time in months, she didn't notice the insistent presence of the horcrux under her bed.

xxx

Hermione was pacing up and down row up on row of bookshelves. She didn't know where she was, and it was frustrating her beyond belief. She called for help and no one answered, and when she tried to read a book in her boredom, all of the books were blank.

She finally tried to find a way out, but quickly discovered that the windows were locked and there simply was no door. The staircase went on forever, as if it created a new level every time she climbed a set. She had no wand, no way out, and trapped in a library with false books.

"Excuse me?" a hesitant voice asked quietly beside her. "Please don't be afraid," he said quickly, and Hermione's eyes snapped up to see a boy, not much older than her, standing half-hidden behind a bookshelf.

Hermione stood up slowly from the ground where she had exiled herself to, shock written on her face. "Are you lost too?" he asked gently, as if afraid she would run away.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "I don't know where I am," she said nervously, wringing her hands together. The boy nodded sympathetically.

"I as well," he said softly, and stepped away from the bookshelf and into full view. He was quite handsome, with dark hair and penetrating eyes. His face was angular yet soft, and was wearing neatly tailored clothing. "Do you remember where you were before you came here?"

Hermione's brows furrowed in deep thought. "I think I was at a school," she said unsurely. She looked down at her clothes, noting she was wearing a uniform with a skirt. "Definitely a school."

"I was in Albania," he replied quietly. "And suddenly I found myself here."

"Do you think we're stuck here?" she asked worriedly. The boy smiled.

"I don't think so. Not unless we want to be."

Hermione frowned at the odd statement, but brushed it off when he held out his hand. "Come. I think I found a way out of here."

He was looking at her kindly, and Hermione found herself believing him as she took his proffered hand. They walked down the grand staircase together in silence, Hermione throwing glances around them.

"How long have you been here?" Hermione asked.

"Quite a while, I believe."

"Do you know why the books are blank?"

The boy looked at her with a frown. "They're not empty."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no I'm sure they are. I've looked at nearly all of them, and not a single one has any words written in them."

"Then perhaps you need to read with new eyes," the boy remarked, causing Hermione to laugh. She didn't notice the boy did not return her smile.

They arrived on the first floor, and he took her past the rows of desks and into a back room. "I've never been here before," Hermione noted as she followed behind him. She gasped when they entered.

"This is lovely!" Hermione exclaimed. "It actually looks just like my grandmother's sitting room. There's the pink tea set, and the couch with some knitting…" Hermione marveled, striding in the room with a bright smile.

"Come sit with me," the boy smiled genially, and Hermione followed him to the sofa.

"Is this the way out?" Hermione asked.

"Oh no," the boy answered with a shake of his head. "That'll come later. Would you like to try and read something?"

"I told you, none of these books have anything written in them," said Hermione in annoyance. "There's no point wasting time on it anymore."

"You haven't tried this book, though," the boy leaned over to the small table before them and picked up a book sitting idly. He flicked through the pages with a blank expression, and then handed it to her. Hermione took it from him and opened it.

At first, the pages were blank. But then suddenly, slowly, ink began to appear on a page, until entire paragraphs were written. Amazed, Hermione glanced at the boy in wonder and began pouring into its contents.

"Incredible," Hermione shook her head. "How did you get it to work? You figured it out, I'm guessing?"

"I'm very persuasive," the boy shrugged nonchalantly. "It is but simple suggestion. The books will show you want you want to see."

Hermione read through the pages, and saw several dark curses listed along with how to effectively use them. She shuddered inside and flipped through the pages.

"Pretty nasty stuff, if you ask me," Hermione noted darkly. "Wait, did you say anything?"

The boy smiled widely. "Of course. Give it a try."

Hermione looked back at the book, and then closed her eyes. When she opened them, she had to suppress a gasp.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh…"

It was her family photo album, with her mum and dad with their hands frozen in the air and identical smiles on their faces. She flipped through it voraciously, feeling stinging sadness creep up inside her.

"You miss them, don't you?" the boy said softly beside her. Hermione nodded, sniffling quietly.

"So much that sometimes I feel as if my heart will burst," Hermione whispered, her fingers going over her mother's laughing face as she hugged a four-year-old Hermione.

"You could see them again, if you wanted," he said quietly, and touched her forearm lightly. Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"How? They're gone forever. Dead…I'll never see them again…"

"But you can," he said urgently. "You just have to come with me outside. Promise me that you'll come, and you can see your parents again. You can be with them forever."

"See them again?" Hermione repeated dazedly. The boy was smiling widely, almost disconcertingly. "No… no that's not right, they're dead…how would you…?" Hermione froze as she stared at him. "What's your name?"

The boy's smile became less and less handsome the longer she looked at him. There was a sneer to it, a cruelty twisting at its corners as he continued to watch her. "I was actually growing fond of you, Hermione. I really hoped you would choose to stay."

Hermione leaned away from him. "What is your name? Tell me," she said desperately.

The boy looked at her coldly. "Oh I think you know. But I will indulge you." He leaned close to her and whispered, "Tom."

Hermione leapt off the sofa and sprinted to the door, but was caught by the arm and spun around until her back hit the wall. Tom was towering over her with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Now, now, Hermione. This is a nonrefundable visit. I'm afraid I can't let you leave just yet."

"Get away from me!" Hermione shouted, fighting against his hold on her. She wished sorely that she had her wand, but realized it would do her little good in this dream world.

"I don't think I will," Tom smirked. "You see, I've been waiting a very long time for this, Hermione Granger. I have seen your heart and your mind for nine months now, seen the darkest parts of you. Oh yes, you are a very naughty girl," he sneered down at her as he held her arms pinned to the wall. "The things you have thought, hidden deep inside your mind; you are not as nice as you once were, did you know? Dabbling in dark magic, thinking of all the ways you could hurt somebody with less than one curse; you heart is tainted. Others can see it, but you can't. Slytherins have always been extremely perceptive, and they know what's hidden inside you."

"You're wrong," Hermione choked out.

"I'm telling you what you already know," Tom sneered. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Did you really think you could do this on your own, Hermione? This noble quest…the only friend who knows your secret abandoned you…even your adoptive brother can't stand to speak to you…"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Yes, you stupid girl," Tom hissed. "You are alone, and have always been alone, even when you were in your proper time. And now, you will die here alone."

Hermione stilled at those words. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him with fear. Tom noticed this with relish, and smiled cruelly. "Haven't you figured it out by now? I thought you were clever but I should've known better, especially for a mudblood. I seem to recall from your memories a Miss Ginny Weasley?"

"N…no," Hermione shook her head. "No, this can't—that was a diary, a memory—"

"A horcrux," Tom corrected. "And you made the same mistake as Ginny did; held me in close proximity every day, allowing your soul to feed me, and in turn I gave you some of myself…"

Hermione recalled the amount of darkness that had been clouding her mind these past few weeks, and the stabbing aches she would get in her chest if she was too near the horcrux. Dread filled her immediately.

"Wake up," Hermione chanted as she closed her eyes. "Wake up, wake up, wake up…."

Tom laughed in a high, cruel voice. "That won't work here, I'm afraid. I suggest you take a seat and allow this dream to come to its natural end."

Hermione paused at this. "That's it," Hermione whispered, and looked up at Tom, who was now frowning. "This isn't like Ginny's experience at all. You controlled her through the diary and its memories. This—this is with a plain horcrux. This is just a dream."

"A dream you can't escape," Tom reminded angrily. Hermione smiled.

"Oh, no. I most definitely can leave."

Without a second thought, Hermione dashed toward the table and grabbed the ceramic tea pot, then slammed it against the table. It shattered everywhere, and Hermione grabbed the largest shard she could see and looked into Tom's eyes.

"No!" he screamed in fury, and the last thing she saw was Tom lunging for her as she slashed her throat.

Hermione awoke gasping for breath, coughing rigorously. She felt her neck and found it still intact, not even a single droplet of blood stained on the skin. She glanced around the dormitory and saw that everyone was still asleep, and it was nearly an hour before sunrise. The horcrux beneath the bed was thrumming in her eardrums, hurting her heart with its malice.

Her face contorted as she kneeled over with her head in her hands, and began to sob.

xxx

There were noticeable bags under Hermione Granger's eyes on Saturday morning. Her fellow classmates asked if she was alright, and she smiled serenely and said yes, perfectly fine, thank you. When she left to get a plate of crumpets on another end of the table, one of the girls whispered to the others that she'd heard Hermione crying for hours in the girls' dormitory.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, the very last one of the school year, to be exact, so naturally the students were brimming with excitement at all the last-minute purchases to make in the village. Even Severus Snape, who had been looking very glum these past few days, had a spark of life in his eyes. He too noticed Hermione's sudden change in attitude when she was the last to leave the Great Hall that morning, but decided against saying anything. It was too soon.

Hermione brought a very large messenger bag with her to Hogsmeade. Many students did as well, to make it easier to carry everything on the walk back to Hogwarts. But Hermione did not visit any shops; she stood idly by, watching the students walk briskly past her in silence.

When the appointed time to leave began to approach, the students started to file out with wistful sighs and remarks of things to do next year when they returned. Hermione waited for the students to leave, then made a break for it to the Shrieking Shack.

Regulus and Scabior were walking with their fellow gang of Slytherins, laughing raucously with the others at something Avery had done. Severus was there as well, slinking towards the back with his hands stuffed in his robes.

"Who shoved the stick up 'is arse?" Scabior whispered loudly to Regulus, who snickered in response. Severus sent them a death glare and quickened his pace. They passed by the Shrieking Shack, and Regulus glanced at it one last time with a forlorn sigh.

"Next year I'll go inside there," he announced. "I don't care how haunted it is."

"You say that now, Black. I'd write my will beforehand, just to be safe."

"Shut up," Regulus said without any real heat. As he continued to look at the Shrieking Shack, he squinted his eyes. "I think there's somebody there."

"Already seeing apparitions?" Scabior teased, looking ahead. He stopped walking and squinted as well. "Regulus, I think you're right. Somebody's up there. It looks like…" Scabior shook his head disbelievingly.

"Do you recognize them?"

Scabior did not respond. They didn't notice that they'd lagged behind for so long, and jolted when Severus suddenly appeared before them.

"What are you dolts still doing here? They're closing any minute, and you—bloody hell!"

"Somebody just set the Shrieking Shack on fire!" Regulus shouted.

"Come on!" Scabior roared, and sprinted to the shack with absolute dread coursing through his veins.

The fire was blazing with an animalistic grace, crackling and howling as the trio grew closer. Regulus and Severus began to cough, but Scabior clamped his mouth shut and kicked the door open.

"Stay back!" he shouted at Regulus and Severus, and then ran inside.

"Is he mad!" Regulus screamed, but Severus held him by the arm.

"Let him do this," said Severus over the roaring flames. Regulus looked at Severus incredulously.

Minutes passed, and Severus and Regulus started to grow nervous. "I think one of use should alert the castle," said Regulus. "They might be—" Suddenly the fire went out as if someone had blown out a candle. Scabior came into view, clutching a violently coughing Hermione Granger to his side.

He threw Hermione unceremoniously to the grass, and Severus shouted, "What the hell!" and knelt to the ground beside Hermione, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

"Was it worth it?" Scabior shouted angrily. He threw what looked like a badly charred crown at Hermione's feet. "Idiot girl! Was it worth it?"

Hermione looked up, her coughing subsiding, and growled, "Yes." She kicked the crown, and it disintegrated into dust.

Chapter 13: Once Forward, Twice Back

Notes:

This chapter was beta’d by the lovely Sigridhr. I owe her so much for putting up with my slow pace of writing this fic, and dealing with my general insanity.

Chapter 13

Once Forward, Twice Back

The crown was resisting.

The horcrux was attacking her mind, forcing her to her knees as it brought forth every single painful memory Hermione had. She looked up to see a snake made of red flames launching itself towards her, and Hermione dashed to her feet and avoided the hit, crying out when the it managed to singe her legs.

"Granger!"

Hermione covered her mouth with her arm as she started coughing, and vaguely saw an outline of a boy bursting into the shack.

"STOP!" Hermione shouted as he raised his wand. Scabior was taken aback by her scream and hesitated for a moment, but it was enough. With a violent movement of her arm, she wrenched the diadem from her fingers and flung it into the fire.

Scabior and Hermione were thrown back as the flames roared and amplified. She registered vaguely that she could hear the horcrux screaming in agony, and that she couldn't breathe properly, but her vision was starting to darken and her thoughts began to slow. With a last effort, Hermione raised her arm and slashed her wand in the air. The fire disappeared.

"Get up, Granger!" Scabior shouted. Was she still lying down? Evidently yes, and she staggered to her feet when two arms lifted her from under her arms.

"Stupid bloody girl!" Scabior growled, and then glanced around. The Shrieking Shack was badly burned, and with the fiendfyre now put out, Hermione could see the charred remains of the diadem. It was silent. Hermione smiled faintly.

He must have seen her looking at it, because in one fluid movement Scabior picked it up and then grabbed her again, clutching her to his side as they stumbled out of the Shack. He threw her to the ground in disgust and dropped the diadem to her feet, and Hermione saw Severus kneel beside her and wrapping an arm around her. She kicked the diadem and watched in satisfaction as it reduced to dust.

"Hermione, what were you thinking?"

She turned to see Severus looking at her with a troubled expression. "She's injured," he announced as he inspected her, and looked up at a seething Scabior.

"Well of course she's bloody injured, she just cast bloody fiendfyre in a wooden bloody shack," growled Scabior, running his hand through his hair angrily. "And what the hell was with that crown? What are you playing at, Granger?"

"Fiendfyre?" Regulus said in alarm, casting another look at the burned shack. "How—"

"Somebody's coming," Severus said urgently. He glanced up at the Shrieking Shack. "At least the shack doesn't look too bad; it only got blacker. If anything, this'll just encourage the haunted shack theories."

"We have to get out of here before anyone sees us," Hermione gritted her teeth as she stood up. Severus still had an arm around her as he helped her stand, and didn't seem very keen on letting her go.

They immediately bolted towards the castle. Hermione grimaced as her shins and thighs began to sting very badly, and her hands—she didn't even want to look to see how much damage there was. Severus clearly had no problem looking at them, for once they were safely inside the castle, he pulled her to the side and held them up to his eyes.

"I'm fine," Hermione snatched her hands from his inspection. "They're just burns."

"Oh no, sweetheart," Scabior's smiling was scathing as he walked up to her. "Those aren't just any burns. They're cursed burns." Hermione's eyes widened. "What? Didn't come across that part in your reading?"

"I did," said Hermione mutely. "I might've…overestimated my accuracy."

"You need to see Madame Pomfrey," said Severus at once.

Hermione shook her head impatiently. "If I go to her, she'll know what this is! And once she finds out someone set fire to the Shrieking Shack, it's only a matter of putting two and two together."

"No offense, Hermione, but looking at the state of you now, anybody can put two and two together," Regulus said bluntly. Hermione glanced down and winced at the abysmal state of her attire. "Come on."

Hermione took a step back. "Where are you taking me?"

"The common room."

Hermione wrenched free of the trio and backed away. "And going to the bloody Slytherin common roomis so much more inconspicuous!" Hermione laughed incredulously. "No, I'm not going with you."

Severus glared, but Scabior shrugged. "Well go then, Granger, just go head up to your room and try a bit of spellwork on those burns. Doesn't take more'n a week for your hands to completely blister, until all that's left is bone."

"Stop being horrible, Scabior," Hermione snapped, but she reflexively cradled her hands closer to her chest. She could feel the burn digging deeper into her skin already. The terror must have shown on her face, for Scabior's glare softened a fraction.

"I'm no master in potions," said Scabior, as if the words were being wrenched unwillingly from his mouth, "but I know what could heal that."

"Of course you do," nodded Hermione. "You'll know all about how to work with the family trade secret."

Scabior's lip twitched, but he remained silent. Severus glanced between the two warily, and said quietly, "Lucky for us, I am something of a master in potions. I will make the antidote."

Scabior's expression instantly darkened. "You really think I'd tell you my family's legacy? You daft?"

"Somebody has to make the potion, Scabior," Hermione frowned. "And since I'm a bit indisposed at the moment—"

Regulus, who had been watching the exchange with growing annoyance, snapped impatiently, "Are we really going to have this discussion in the entrance hall of the school?"

"Right," Hermione bit her lip, looking around distractedly. Suddenly she gasped. "The old classroom!" she turned to Scabior emphatically.

"Oh yes, of course!" he replied sarcastically, looking at her as if she had two heads.

Hermione made an impatient noise. "The one we were practicing in! I have still have permission to use it. No one should be down the corridor right now."

"Alright," Scabior agreed gruffly. He gave a hard look to Severus. "We need to get to the potions supply closet. Black, go with Granger to the classroom." They began to separate, but Scabior grabbed Hermione's upper arm and lowered his voice. "You will tell me what this was all about afterwards. You owe me."

Hermione swallowed, watching him walk away with Severus.

It was an odd arrangement to say the least, and despite the sharp pain shooting up and down Hermione's body, she came to realize that three boys—three Slytherin boys who were already on the path to the dark side—had helped her. And were going to make an antidote for her own silly mistake. Hermione shook her head in wonder. She was slowly starting to realize just how foolish a lot of her assumptions about people were….

"Down here?" Regulus's voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, down here." She noticed Regulus was keeping in pace with her as she trekked slowly down the corridor, his eyes darting around carefully. "It's okay. Everyone's getting lunch in the Great Hall right now. No one will be looking down here."

"Reassuring," replied Regulus. Hermione couldn't tell if his reply was sarcastic or not. She didn't wait to find out.

"This one," Hermione pointed at the door to an empty classroom, pressing her injured hands closer to her chest. Regulus stepped forward and opened it, gesturing for Hermione to walk through first.

He closed the door behind them and leaned against the wall, watching Hermione speculatively as she slowly sank into a chair. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Silence… there was complete silence. No longer did the horcrux ring in her ears. The constant ache in her chest disappeared. She was finally, finally free.

The relief was short-lived as Hermione thought of the other horcruxes she would need to find and destroy. Were all of them even made yet? She destroyed the diadem – leaving the ring, the locket, the snake, the cup, the diary… was the locket even a horcrux yet? Hermione tried to wrack her brain and recall what Dumbledore had told her before her journey into the past, but her mind refused to cooperate.

And the snake… if he had Nagini right now, then surely she'd become a horcrux. Harry wasn't even born yet, so then….

"You're really stupid, you know."

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts at Regulus's words. She looked up to see him watching her with his arms crossed lazily.

"Thank you for that assessment, Regulus," said Hermione.

"I mean, what kind of idiot wakes up one morning and thinks, 'I'm going to blow up the Shrieking Shack today. I feel lucky.'"

"I didn't blow it up," Hermione snapped.

"Don't understand why everyone's putting such a fuss about you," Regulus continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Scabior and the greasy git tripping over themselves to help you. It's pathetic."

"I didn't ask for their help, and I certainly didn't ask for yours," said Hermione coldly. "You can leave now."

"But you're so stupid that people can't help but try to help you," Regulus said patiently.

"What's your point, Regulus?"

He shrugged. "I don't even know. It's just curious, is all. And what was that thing that Scabior had dropped on the grass before? A crown?" Hermione pressed her lips together. "I see I've reached the touchy subject. How about this then: where in Merlin's name did you learn to cast fiendfyre? And why?"

"It's a long story," Hermione looked away, feeling suddenly very old. "And none of your business."

"Yeah but why though? Why did you do it? That's really dark magic, Granger. I didn't think you would ever use it—thought you were just really curious about it."

Hermione glanced at Regulus with a raised brow. "Are you curious about it? Enough to use dark magic again?"

"Who's to say I don't already?" he challenged.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "You don't seem that interested in it anymore."

"There you go again, acting like you know me," Regulus muttered, but behind his words was something she couldn't quite recognize—and for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of fear flit in his eyes. Hermione recalled what Sirius had discussed with her the night before, about Regulus receiving a letter from his family, and wondered if now would be a good time to bring it up.

The door opened loudly and Scabior and Severus walked through. Evidently not.

"Unfortunately, Hermione," started Severus curtly, "I'm not sure how quickly I can brew the potion, since the oaf beside me refuses to give me a sheet of instructions on how to brew it."

Scabior glared darkly at Severus, who was setting up the cauldron on one of the desks. Hermione suppressed a sigh. "Give him the instructions, Scabior. The quicker we can get this done, the quicker we can get out of each other's hair."

"And in our case, it'd be much safer for all of us to stay out of Snape's," Regulus remarked with a slight grimace.

With great reluctance, Scabior did what she asked, and Severus was well on his way to a bubbly, boiling solution in his cauldron. Regulus had taken to a nap in the corner of the room, his feet propped up on a desk and leaning against his chair. Scabior was watching as Hermione transfigured her clothes back to a somewhat normal state. It wasn't a perfect result, as she was having trouble keeping a firm grip on the wand, but she reached success after a few minutes and smiled triumphantly as she sat down on a chair.

Hermione attempted to ignore the stare burning through her forehead. Finally, she sighed exasperatedly. "What?" Scabior didn't reply. "What?"

"How did you learn to cast it?" Hermione looked away nervously. "I mean, we only practiced the countercurse. Once. And then the next day you do this."

"I did do my research, you know," said Hermione quietly. "And you gave me the history lessons about it in exchange for the essays."

"But why? You never really answered why you're doing this, why you were interested in fiendfyre." He let out a harsh laugh. "Blimey, at first I thought you fancied me, but when that fell through I couldn't understand why you continued."

Hermione breathed in deeply and looked Scabior straight in the eye. "I know you want to know, Scabior. Everyone in this room does." Her eyes flitted over to Snape, who was carefully brewing the potion. She knew she had a lot of explaining to do to him. "But you really, really don't want to know. It's not safe for either of us, and believe it or not I think we might be friends now. And I don't… I don't want you to get involved in my mess. At least, not yet. It's not fair to you."

"Do you fancy the dark arts now?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "You know… you know they don't really allow your kind in."

"My kind…?"

"It's their thing, not mine," Scabior said quickly. "I don'—I don' really care, just in it for the fun—"

"I don't fancy the dark arts," Hermione assured, not particularly interested in what he was trying to say. "I just need to borrow one of its spells for a short while…" Hermione glanced down at her hands again, and sighed. "I definitely need more practice."

Scabior looked at her dubiously, but did not comment. "Are you going to tell anyone?" asked Hermione. The question had been worrying her for the past hour. After all, she didn't exactly have his loyalty from just a few days of chatting.

"But of course. I went through all this bloody trouble of getting you antidote just to tell the whole school you set the Shrieking Shack on fire," said Scabior dryly. "Which, well..." Scabior coughed. "You did a decent job, that. For a day's practice, that is. Was stupid, but still good. You put it out yourself n' everything."

"Did you just give me a compliment?"

"Don't be daft," Scabior scowled. When she found herself smiling, Hermione wondered when exactly she had stopped thoroughly disliking the boy.

"The potion is ready," Severus announced as he sauntered up to the pair. His eyes were narrowed shrewdly as he regarded Scabior. "If what he says is true, you'll need to apply this every three hours for a week. I've made a cauldron full, so it will last you the trip home."

"Guess my job is done," Scabior jumped to his feet and strolled to Regulus, giving his chair a swift kick. "Time to go, Black."

Regulus woke with a start, glaring at Scabior's back as he left the classroom without another word. Muttering darkly under his breath, Regulus stood and brushed out his robes. He glanced at Hermione and Severus and then left as well.

Hermione finally turned to look at Severus, and released her breath with a whoosh.

"Well." Hermione leaned back against her chair tiredly. "Hello."

Severus carefully took a seat before her and set the cauldron on the table. "Hello." He held out his hands expectantly, and Hermione offered her own. He started to apply the thick liquid from the cauldron onto the burns, and Hermione couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her the moment the ointment met with her skin. Severus's lips twitched in a self-satisfied manner, knowing full well that his potion was, as always, flawlessly brewed.

"Thank you for doing this," Hermione said meekly after several minutes of silence. Severus nodded in acknowledgement. He began wrapping her hands in bandages, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How exactly will I be wearing these wrappings without causing suspicion?"

"Bad potion accident," Severus said automatically. "That excuse always works."

"I suppose…" Hermione said slowly. She expected he would be bursting with questions and accusations the moment they were alone, but this was something else entirely. He was quiet and calm, and was actually talking to her. Well, progress was progress. It didn't do well to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hermione supposed, but it didn't make the uneasy feeling in her stomach disappear.

Severus cleared his throat then, and Hermione focused again on his face. He was sitting rather stiffly in his chair and was not meeting her eyes. "Your other burns?" he said almost coldly. Hermione frowned, and then looked down at her shins.

"Oh," she said in surprise. "Well, you can just… oh honestly, Severus! They're just legs! Here, give me," she reached for the cauldron but her hands were swiftly batted away. Hermione scowled. "Well if you won't let me then just do it. I didn't know the one thing that frightened a Slytherin was the sight of a girl's shin."

At this Severus began to glower at her deeply, one that would have sent a first year scuttling away quickly. Hermione merely raised an eyebrow and lifted her leg forward a bit so he could reach it. Immediately he began applying the ointment liberally, and within moments he was frowning deeply.

"Merlin, these are even worse than your hands," he muttered.

"I've had worse," said Hermione off-handedly. Severus paused and lifted his eyes up to look at her.

"I really hope not."

Hermione blinked, watching him resume his work. Hermione bandaged her shins herself, now that she had the use of her hands again. Wincing slightly as she pulled her repaired stockings over them, she sighed in relief when the job was done.

Severus was pouring the remaining contents of the cauldron into several flasks, and handed them to her. "Every three hours for a week," he reminded her sternly. "And it'll be like you never got burned."

"This'll last me more like a year, to be honest," Hermione murmured as she put the vials into her bag.

Severus did not meet her eyes. "I figured you would be in need of it again, so I doubled the measurements."

Hermione looked at him with a startled expression. "You—you made extra on purpose?" Severus nodded. Hermione set the bag down with a thump, and fixed him with a hard look. "Alright, why aren't you asking me questions? Everyone else has but you. Aren't you wondering why I cast that bloody spell? And you—you went and made me extra, because you knew I would cast it again."

Severus gazed at her firmly. "Of course I am curious. But if you wanted to tell me what happened, you would. And…" Severus shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't sure… I haven't been a very… it's been a strange few weeks, and I wasn't sure you even wanted to talk to me, not after I…" Severus trailed off, and Hermione understood.

"Well, you're talking to me now," she said, daring to sound the tiniest bit hopeful. Severus cracked a slight smile.

"Yes, I am."

"And you're not… running away. Or accusing me of, you know. Bad intentions."

"No, I'm not."

"So have you been deducing what could be going on?" asked Hermione curiously.

Severus straightened, and peered into her eyes carefully, as if trying to decipher whether she would be angry with him or not. When he saw no such thing, he began to speak quickly. "I've been thinking on this for a few weeks. And after today, well—I know you're from the past, I know you're incredibly smart and powerful with moral standards so high nearly no one could reach—and yet you cast one of the most dangerous and darkest spells just to destroy some trinket."

Hermione blinked rapidly. "Well, you're right on the margin so far," she acknowledged, blushing slightly at having someone else tell her how he perceived her as.

"And you've been in pain," said Severus a little quieter. He looked at her with worry. "I noticed it during the OWLs. Saw you run to your dormitory after. Looked like something was torturing you." As if realizing something that instant, he looked at her in shock. "That thing—the crown—was that hurting you?"

"You noticed that?" said Hermione in surprise, her stomach doing an odd flip when he nodded. "Yes. For… for quite some time now."

Severus looked at her for a long moment, his eyes latched onto her so attentively that Hermione had to fight not to look away from the eye contact. Hardly anyone looked at others directly like this for so long, and Hermione was perturbed by the broiling questions and careful assessments underneath those black eyes.

A bitter smile twisted Severus's lips. "I did exactly what those buffoon friends of yours did to you not too long ago. Made myself a right hypocrite and jumped to conclusions."

"To be fair, it wasn't an easy subject to digest," said Hermione helpfully, though inside her mind was in complete disarray. Days and days of not speaking, and then this. She was slightly annoyed that it took burning the inside of a building for him to realize how foolish he had been towards her.

"Well," he gruffly cleared his throat. "Well."

Hermione frowned, but shook her head. "Right. We should get going." She rose to her feet and brushed the remaining ash and dust from her clothing. He stood with her, his eyes flickering over her unsurely and then turned to the door.

They strode outside and came upon the grand staircase. He turned to head downstairs, but paused and whirled around.

"Are you doing anything over the summer holidays?"

Hermione paused. "Er, not that I know of," she replied hesitantly, taken aback by the sudden question. "Why?"

Severus shrugged his shoulders awkwardly and looked to his shoes, locks of long hair partially covering his face. "Just wondering."

She didn't believe it for a second, but she decided to humor him; he was, after all, back on speaking terms with her, and she didn't want to push his buttons more than necessary. At least, not right now. "I'll owl you. Is that alright?"

He blinked and nodded quickly, not quite meeting her eyes still. Suddenly his face sobered, and he glanced up the staircase, as if searching for the Gryffindor tower. "Has she….Has Lily…?"

Hermione glanced up as well, and then looked at him with sadly. "No, she hasn't said anything."

For a brief moment, he looked completely like the broken boy who'd sat in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, begging Lily to come out. But the expression disappeared, replaced with a look of cold solemnity, and he straightened his shoulders. "Right. Well, good day."

"Severus," Hermione said softly, catching his arm before he could take a step down. He froze, not turning around to meet her eyes. "I know it's not my place. But she won't see you. And she doesn't want to speak to you."

"Yes, I know that," he said icily, ineffectively attempting to shrug out of her grip.

"So then do it another way," she glared. "Write her a letter. She needs to know how you really feel, that you don't…you need to apologize," Hermione said firmly.

Severus whirled around. "You think I haven't tried? You think I don't regret every day, every time I see her, how much I didn't mean what I said?"

"Don't you yell at me," said Hermione sharply. "I know what you said to her, and if I was in Lily's place, I would make you work for it too. I've been—I've been desensitized to being called a mudblood, because of how often it's been shoved at me as if I were a disease. Don't look so surprised."

Hermione glowered at him reproachfully when he winced. "But it is still a hurtful word, and nobody deserves to have their entire identity be reduced to their bloodline; to be told they are disgusting for what they were born as. It doesn't matter how angry you were at the time, it doesn't matter what the situation was. It shouldn't have been said."

"I know," replied Severus quietly. "I know, Hermione. I know."

He was visibly sagging, and Hermione sighed. "It's not the end of the world, Severus. Not yet. You're still young; you can let her know the truth. That you will never say something like that again."

He looked at her then, gazing at her with a mixture of curiosity and questioning. "You say that a lot, you know," he noted. "You say things sometimes, like you know more than you let on, like you're older than we think. Sometimes I forget you're not from here. How old are you, really?"

"I'm—" Hermione stopped. "I…I don't know? I don't know which timeline I'm following anymore. I came here when I was sixteen, and it's been a year already so I suppose…" Hermione let out a short, incredulous laugh. "I'm seventeen. My birthday's passed on both timelines now, I think, so… Seventeen. I'm seventeen now."

"You were still at Hogwarts?" said Severus in shock. "You haven't even finished, have you?"

"No, I haven't," she replied distantly. "It was the end of my sixth year when Dumbledore… came to me and… and now, here I am." She shook her head in wonder.

"You're of age then," Severus observed. "You can do magic outside school now."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione nodded, realizing that he had a point. This would greatly improve her hunt for horcruxes since the Trace wouldn't be on her. "It feels weird being able to finally tell someone this."

Severus looked at her incredulously for a second, and then stepped closer to her. "This summer, I'll write to you. And I think, well. I think we should see each other at least once during the holidays. I have been a fool, and—and everything is so confusing right now, the people I spend time with—" He broke off suddenly, as if fighting with himself, and Hermione felt a wave of sadness as she knew what he was referring to. "They abandoned you, those bloody Gryffindors, and I was no better."

"Not all of them," Hermione reminded lightly. Lily had never left her side, and that thought made her feel terribly guilty for taking their friendship so lightly this entire year.

Severus narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if understanding what she meant, but chose not to comment on it. Hermione knew full well why. He was shaking his head again as he continued, "There's so much about you, Hermione, that I can't believe is true. You're living day by day like this, and it's slowly making sense to me; everything that you've been doing, the fiendfyre and the crown—" He broke off, but then looked at her with a renewed sense of purpose. "I will write to you. And I will write to her." He glanced up the staircase briefly, and then gazed at Hermione seriously. "You don't have to be alone anymore in this, Hermione."

Hermione's throat threatened to close as she listened to Severus's words. "You daft Slytherin," she shook her head, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "I'll see you over the summer."

And with that they parted, and neither had a chance to speak to each other for the remaining week at Hogwarts. It wasn't until Hermione was boarding the Hogwarts Express, trunk in hand and a crowd of students surrounding her, did Hermione catch a glimpse of Severus again; he was settling his own trunk down, a hoard of Slytherins surrounding him, of which she recognized Scabior, Regulus, and Avery and his gang. The latter sneered at her, with the former merely holding her gaze as she dropped off her trunk. Scabior's eyes flickered to her hands, and saw the fresh bandages that were wrapped around them. Nodding in acknowledgement, he disappeared, as did Regulus and Severus.

"Come on, Hermione," Peter said jovially behind her, patting her shoulder with a smile as they began looking through compartments. "We should still be able to find a good one before the underclassmen climb aboard."

"Very true," Hermione agreed, and began to look eagerly for a compartment to sit in. A throat cleared behind them, and James was standing with Sirius and Remus. "There's an empty one here," James pointed at the one beside him, opening the door. "If you want." His voice was neutral, but his eyes were unsure with a small, glittering bit of hope.

Hermione's eyes slid to Remus, who appeared very tired but very keen as he watched her, and Sirius seemed to be in higher spirits as well. Hermione and Peter exchanged looks, and Hermione shrugged. "I suppose it will do."

A wide smile spread on James's face and held the door out for her. Hermione caught the sight of bright red hair and paused. "You go in first. I'll be back in a minute."

Quickly brushing past the mass of excited students, Hermione caught up with Lily and grabbed her shoulder. A smile bloomed on Lily's face.

"Aren't you supposed to be sitting with you four-man army?" she said lightly. "They speaking to you again?"

"I suppose they are, yes," replied Hermione vaguely. "It's all very weird. But they can wait," Hermione waved her hand distractedly. "Have you got a compartment?"

"This one right here with my mates," she pointed to the door beside her. "Would you like to join us?"

Hermione smiled genuinely. "Thank you, but it's alright. I just wanted to see you beforehand. It's been a really strange year." Lily snorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I wanted to thank you. You were the first person to really welcome me to this school, and you didn't even know me. And I'm certain if it weren't for you, I would've gone mad within the first month here."

"I wouldn't blame you," said Lily darkly, but patted her shoulder with a smile. "I'm glad I met you, Hermione."

"Can I—I mean, do you want to meet up this summer? I'm not sure how I feel about three months without seeing you."

Lily blinked, and then grinned. "Of course!" she said cheerfully. "Merlin knows I'll need the company. My sister drives me barmy every summer, so it'll be nice to have someone fresh company. And you could meet my parents! They'll love you."

"You should come to my home too, the Potters will adore you," said Hermione enthusiastically.

"I keep forgetting you live with the Potters," Lily said sheepishly. "Would that be alright, then? If I came over?"

"Of course," Hermione frowned. "I'll have to ask Dorea or Charlus, of course, but it should be fine."

"Alright then," Lily beamed. "I'll see you soon." The two girls embraced, and Hermione caught the sight of a letter being discreetly tucked inside Lily's robes; a letter addressed to Lily, in what appeared to be Severus's neat handwriting. She looked up at Lily, who seemed frozen for being caught in the act, but quickly schooled her features and shrugged, as if to say, 'it is what it is'. Hermione smiled understandingly, and was exceedingly happy that for once in her life, somebody had listened to her advice.

xxx

It was a full month before Hermione received her first letter from Severus.

She'd been sitting in James's room. James was absorbed into today's Quibbler, so he did not take notice when a tawny owl swooped through the open window and dropped an envelope onto Hermione's lap. It gave a low hoot and took off, leaving Hermione to rip open the letter fervently.

Hermione,

I hope your holidays are going well. Are you free this week? We have a lot to discuss, especially about your plans of next term. There is a bakery nearby Godric's Hollow where we could meet.

S. Snape

Hermione read it twice, frowning. How did he know she lived in Godric's Hollow? She cast a glance at James and then understood. Know thy enemy.

Wordlessly leaving James's room, Hermione went to her own and quickly scribbled a reply.

Severus,

I am free this week. We could meet today, if you like. I've never been to that bakery yet, so it'll be fun visiting.

Hermione

She sent off the letter with anxious anticipation. She knew this would be it—the day she finally told him who she was. It terrified her, but part of her was almost glad she could finally tell someone, to not be alone anymore. Even though Hermione had her fair share of friends this past school year, it was unmistakable that Hermione was utterly alone in her quest, and thus nobody actually knew who she was. To be free of this burden, to finally have someone else know…

Hermione did not muse on this longer, for her owl returned with another letter in its beak. For a moment she thought it hadn't been able to deliver hers, but when she saw her name written on the envelope, she hastily took it and tore it open.

Three o'clock today, then. I'll meet you at the door.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she checked the back of the envelope to see if anything else was written. There wasn't.

Meet her at the door? Surely, surely he would not do that. Severus Snape, show up at the Potters' front door? The idea was laughable, not to mention dangerous. If Sirius or James saw him… well, she was glad magic was forbidden outside Hogwarts.

Hermione still did not dare to test her magic outside Hogwarts. Her body was most definitely seventeen right now, so the Trace couldn't possibly be on her.

But this was no time to think of this. Three o'clock was two hours away. She worried her lower lip, wondering if she should bring her bag from her own time with her, the one filled with textbooks and things she owned from before. And the empty Time-Turner that brought her here… no, he had seen that already. There was no point in showing that again.

Hermione prepared herself and grabbed the purse, then went to Mrs. Potter and told her of her departure. Mrs. Potter—Dorea, as she urged Hermione should call her—was skeptical of her leaving so suddenly, but did not protest. After assuring she would be back before dark, Hermione hovered anxiously by the door, glancing every few seconds out the window, as if expecting to see long, dark hair and a hook nose at any instant.

On her last glance she saw him. Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip, and immediately she opened the door before Severus could knock. He looked surprised at her sudden appearance, noting she closed the door quickly behind her, and gave a wary smile.

"Hullo," he said.

"Hello," said Hermione, breathlessly. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Very," Severus agreed amiably. He glanced up briefly up at the house, and the faintest of sneers curled his lips. "Potter and Black inside, then?"

"Just James," Hermione shrugged, stepping away from the door. "Sirius went out to see his uncle some hours ago."

Severus looked as if he swallowed a particularly bitter lemon at the mention of James and Sirius's names, but made the effort to school his features back to one of indifference. "Let's go, then. Don't want to get there when the bakery closes."

Hermione nodded and fell in step with Severus, walking along the sidewalk together. "Where do you live, by the way?" Hermione asked. "I feel terrible that you had to come all this way. I could've met you at your house."

"Spinner's End," Severus said brusquely. "You needn't bother come there. It's far from Godric's Hollow, and a dreadfully dull place."

His expression was hard and closed, staring straight ahead at the street. Hermione did not comment, for she knew, though he would not tell her outright, that home was not an endearing place for him. She didn't have to guess very hard why.

The bakery was very close to Godric's Hollow; they reached a little shop on the corner of a street about three blocks away. She was instantly chilled as she stepped inside, and felt grateful for muggle air conditioning. They sat at an empty booth, Hermione noting that it was quite a private little shop, and knew why Severus chose this place in particular. He wouldn't let her near his house and would be caught dead before actually stepping inside the house of James Potter and Sirius Black, so a bakery nearby her home was both private and safe.

Severus shifted a bit in his seat, his hands folded under the table. Hermione cleared her throat.

"So how has your summer been?"

Severus shrugged indifferently. "Yours?"

Hermione shrugged as well. "Rereading lots of books, mostly."

"Books for school, or books for other… things?"

Hermione looked at him sharply, taking in his nonchalance. "Both," said Hermione carefully.

Severus looked at her for several more moments before sighing raggedly. "I think we've danced around this subject long enough. I meant what I said before we left Hogwarts, Hermione," said Severus seriously. "I am sorry for how I handled what you trusted me with. But –" He took a deep breath. "I'm ready to hear the whole story, and I won't run away this time. If you want to tell me, of course," he added quickly, taking in Hermione's surprised expression. "Only if you want to."

"I do," Hermione answered immediately. "I really do. But you have to absolutely, absolutely swear that this stays between us."

"I swear," Severus said solemnly, and Hermione believed him. Perhaps this would be her downfall. She knew a thousand ways how it could be. But she also knew she could not do this alone, not anymore. She already tried doing it alone. And she knew she couldn't spend the rest of her life living like this.

"Okay," she nodded, feeling suddenly very nervous. She looked away from Severus and stared at her hands, folded neatly on the table. "Well, I don't know if I'll bore you the details of my entire life story. I'll just start with the basics. I was born in 1979 to muggle parents. Eleven years later I got my Hogwarts letter, and got sorted into Gryffindor. I made two best friends; Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Severus repeated. "Do you mean—no, you can't mean. The only Potter with magic here is—" Severus stopped short. A look of cold dread filled Severus's eyes. "Potter's son. You were friends his son in school."

"Yes," Hermione admitted, feeling suddenly very sick now that she was finally telling him the secrets of the future. But she kept going. "We weren't friends at first, but we were by the next month."

"What does Harry Potter have to do with you going back to the past?"

The question was asked so innocently, with such genuine confusion, that Hermione almost began laughing. "What does he have to do with it? He's everything to do with it," Hermione smiled incredulously. "Harry Potter was famous when I was at school. There wasn't a witch or wizard who didn't know his name."

Severus's eyes darkened. "I see," he said quietly. "So, Potter and his family become famous. I'm not entirely surprised."

Hermione's expression changed instantly; a haunted look was about her, and her eyes filled with deep sadness. Severus furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"He's not famous because his parents were popular. He's famous because Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby."

Severus's eyes widened to saucers as he flinched at the name. "What?" he exclaimed in a harsh whisper, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard. "Are you serious?"

Hermione gave him a hard look. Severus began shaking his head in disbelief. "Why would he do that? Why would he try to kill a baby?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "There was this prophecy," she muttered quietly. "Something about a boy born on the 31st of July that would be You-Know-Who's downfall. So he decided not to take his chances, and used the Killing Curse on him. But it didn't work; it backfired and ended up destroying his body."

Severus looked even more horrified. "Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse? How is that even possible? And you're saying that in the future, the Dark Lord is no longer alive because of that?"

Hermione shook her head, her lips pressed in a hard line as she clasped her fingers together even more tightly. "It was old magic that saved him," she continued hollowly. "That's the only reason. No one has ever survived the Killing Curse, except Harry. And Vol—You-Know-Who didn't exactly die. His body was gone, but the spirit remained."

Severus sat back in his seat, looking aghast. She could see his mind working rapidly, trying to figure out the meaning behind Hermione's words, and filling the holes that Hermione was intentionally leaving. She wasn't sure if she wanted tell him that it was Lily's death that saved Harry that night.

Severus looked up at her again, a renewed question in his eyes. "Why are you here, Hermione?"

Hermione took a long breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for what she was about to reveal. "Over the years, You-Know-Who took every chance trying to kill Harry. He tried very hard to restore his body, but never quite succeeded. But in my fourth year, he found a way. He came back, with a new body, and picked up from where he left off. The reason he could do this was simple, really. He's always looked for a way to cheat death, a way he could live forever. He found one—really old, really terrible magic."

This was it. This would be the hardest part for Severus to digest, but it was now or never. "He…he split his soul. Seven times. Hid them in objects and scattered them around the world, making it so that if one form of his body died, he'll always have a backup plan. That's how he was able to come back at all."

Severus continued to stare at her after she stopped talking, and waited for him to speak. His eyes were wide with shock, and she knew this was a lot of information to dump on somebody all of a sudden, but he had to know. He asked, and it was time to tell.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Severus opened his mouth. "S…seven times? He split his soul seven times?"

Hermione nodded.

Severus peered at her searchingly. "Is that what it is, then? You're here to destroy those objects where he hid his soul." His eyes narrowed in realization. "That's what that crown was, then, wasn't it? It was one of the things you had to destroy."

"Yes, it was," Hermione agreed. "It's why I've been getting Scabior to teach me about fiendfyre. He doesn't know why, obviously. Fiendfyre is about the only thing at this point that's powerful enough to destroy a horcrux."

"Is that what they're called?" Hermione nodded. Severus began to nod fervently, grabbing the glass of ice cold water in front of him and taking a few long swigs. He set the glass down and gazed at Hermione with glazed eyes and renewed determination. "I believe you," he said. "It all sounds so ridiculous, but I know you're not lying. And it makes sense. What I want to know now is, why did Dumbledore send you? Why not Potter himself? And what actually made him give you a Time-Turner to change history?"

"Well," Hermione began carefully. "From what Dumbledore told me, he and Harry spent a lot of my sixth year trying to learn more about horcruxes and even went to find one on the day I came here. Dumbledore, well…" Hermione shrugged ineffectually. "I won't try to understand why he does the things he does. But he found a Time-Turner, a lost Time-Turner that was thought to be a myth, that could move decades instead of hours. The Sands of Destiny, remember?"

Severus nodded.

"Well, he used it, only he went into the future instead of the past. He saw terrible things, and realized that You-Know-Who had won. There was another war," Hermione added quickly, noting Severus's confused face. "And apparently I fought in it during my seventh year, but we lost. You-Know-Who had absolute power. And the deaths… so many people died, Severus. Everyone I cared about. So Dumbledore used the Time-Turner to come back to his proper time, and ran into me." Hermione smiled bitterly. "Sometimes I think it's because I was the first person he could reach. That's why he chose me to do it. But he said… he said he trusted me, that no one else could do this. It made some sense, because I've worked with Time-Turners before in my third year, when I took extra classes and got approval to use one to get to them all.

"He explained everything to me; about the horcruxes, about who died in the future, about going into the past and destroying them early on and therefore changing the course of history. And so… I left everyone I loved behind. To save the people I love. To save everyone from the rise of You-Know-Who."

When she finally finished talking, Hermione sagged in her seat. The weight was finally off her. She could breathe easier now; she felt it. Severus was unusually quiet as he contemplated everything she just told him.

"So this is what you've been doing here?" Severus finally spoke, looking at her questioningly. "This is what you've been hiding all year?"

"Yes."

Severus shook his head incredulously. "You must hate us! You have enough on your plate as it is, but instead you had terrible friends along the way to make matters worse."

"Not always terrible," Hermione said lightly, but the bitterness finally broke through and she looked away. "But it definitely didn't help." She shook her head quickly and pushed away the dark thoughts. "You know everything now. So… what do you think?"

At that point, Hermione was glad she got to know Severus Snape in his youth. This person was so, so different from the one she knew as a Hogwarts professor. She never would have known, for instance, that the younger Snape would reach over and take her hand in solidarity, staring at her wordlessly for several minutes.

"You won't be alone in this anymore, Granger," he said firmly, holding her hand tightly. "Dumbledore may be a brilliant wizard, but this is a burden no one should carry alone. Just tell me how to help, and I will."

The moment felt surreal as Severus's words registered in her mind, her vision swimming.

She was not alone anymore.

"You have to understand," Hermione said quietly, "what this means in the long run. I'm working against the people you've started to be friends with, Severus. I know how you feel about the dark arts, and after what happened with Lily… I know you've gotten closer to them."

"I thought you would appreciate that I would have access to their information, Hermione," said Severus in a light tone, looking at Hermione with a mix of smugness and mischievousness.

Hermione raised her eyebrows incredulously. "You would do that?"

"You are so daft sometimes," said Severus in wry disbelief. "Did you honestly think, after telling me all this, that I would continue on the path I was headed to? That I would abandon yet another friend?"

"But Lily—"

"Forget about Lily!" Severus hissed. "This isn't about her, this is about you. And the safety of this world against the Dark Lord. There are people I need to protect too, so I am offering you my help."

Stunned into silence, Hermione could do little but stare at Severus. She looked down, noting he was still holding her hand in a ferociously tight grip. It loosened immediately, until Severus released her and shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"Okay," she said finally. Hermione broke into a smile. "This is—this is so much more than I could have expected." She shook her head slowly in wonder. "Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

Severus gave a little smile, but darkness was hidden in his eyes. He was still thinking about everything she had told him, and was still trying to come to terms with it. Something was different in the way he looked at her now. Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what it was.

And then she recognized it—it was such a familiar look, one that she recalled Harry received so often—a look of pity.

The door to the bakery opened, letting the bell on the door to ring a few times. A shadow fell over the two, and Hermione looked up.

"Well, well," Severus pursed his lips, his eyebrows pinched in a dark expression. "If it isn't the lost stray."

Sirius glared at him briefly, but ignored him. "Mrs. Potter wanted me to find you," he muttered to Hermione. "She told me you'd be here. Something's come up at home."

"Alright," she nodded. Glancing briefly at Severus, who was already rising from his seat, she smiled unsurely. "Goodbye, Severus."

"Hermione," he nodded curtly, and gave one last look of pure loathing to Sirius, who was only too keen to give one in return. "I'll keep in touch," he told Hermione briefly, before exiting the bakery.

"Ready?" Sirius asked tightly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What is it, then?" Hermione asked as they left the bakery. "What's happened at home?"

Sirius shrugged. "She didn't tell me. I came home and she just sent me right back out to get you."

Hermione frowned, biting her lip. What could have happened that she sent Sirius to get her? Hermione checked her watch. It was still only five o'clock….

"So, you and Snivellous?"

Hermione looked at him sharply. Sirius looked as if trying to suppress a grin, but failing.

"You know we're friends," Hermione said tartly.

Sirius gave a sour look. "You do know what he said to Lily, right?"

"Yes, I know. And he knows he was wrong." Sirius made a disgusted noise, and Hermione glared. "And you bullied him because you were bored! Don't try to make yourself look better."

"You can't compare what I did to what he did. What Snape said is something far worse than any hex I have ever thrown," Sirius remarked, shoving his hands in his jeans.

"And he knows it! He's apologized to Lily. And she's forgiven him."

Sirius was taken aback. "How do you know that?"

"Lily and Severus are my closest friends," Hermione sniffed. "They've been writing to me all summer."

"So they're friends again?"

Hermione looked away. "I don't know that much."

Sirius let out his breath slowly. They walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Sirius finally spoke again. "Have you… spoken to Regulus?"

He would not meet her eyes when Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "A little," Hermione said honestly. "Before vacation started, I spoke to him briefly. But not enough to talk about… you know."

Sirius made no reply. He appeared to be walking stiffly now, a worried look in his eyes. "He doesn't have much longer," replied Sirius quietly. "I have to do something. Or else he'll never be able to escape."

Just as Hermione was about to reassure him that she would be sending and owl his way soon, the sound of a massive cannon firing caused both of them to jump in fright. The ground shook as Hermione and Sirius immediately ducked to the ground.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sirius exclaimed.

"That didn't sound right," Hermione breathed. "I think it was something magical."

"What, like reducto or something?" Sirius asked in concern. He helped Hermione to her feet and kept a protective arm around her, looking ahead. They could see smoke and bits of debris from the corner of the road behind from where they were walking.

"Come on, somebody might be hurt," Hermione urged him forward, and they ran to the end of the sidewalk. Across the street, a small shop was billowing smoke. She squinted to read the name of the shop, but it seemed to have blasted off.

"The person who did this might still be here," said Sirius lowly, his hand reaching his back pocket. Hermione stayed his hand.

"Be careful," she warned. "Don't use that unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I know," said Sirius. Neither dared take out their wand in the broad of daylight, but both were ready to whip it out in case someone started to attack. Sirius peered closely at the shop. "The person who did this doesn't seem to be there. No one's come out."

"Let's go, then."

Sirius and Hermione cautiously crossed the road and peered inside the blasted shop. Hermione coughed, covering her face with her arm. "Can you smell that?"

Sirius grimaced, coughing slightly as he took another breath. "Yeah. There's definitely traces of a magical signature in the air. This was no accident."

"But this is a muggle shop," Hermione said in confusion. "Why would someone attack a random muggle shop?"

"Haven't you been reading the papers, Hermione?" Sirius frowned. "Blimey, and I don't mean to be disrespectful at all, but your own family was attacked and they were muggles. This is their sport," Sirius gave a disgusted look at the shop. "Killing and torturing muggles is just a game for them."

Hermione swallowed hard, trying not to be overwhelmed by the fear gripping her insides. She reached over and pushed against the wooden door, wincing when it crumbled at her touch. Glancing nervously at Sirius, they both stepped inside.

The inside of the shop lay in ruin. Bits of paper were scattered and charred everywhere, a strong smell of ink and ash filling her nostrils. "Do you know what this place was?" asked Hermione.

Sirius shook his head. "I can't remember. Never really walked down this street. The shops keep changing over the years too, when the muggle closes his business and another takes over."

Hermione nodded distractedly. They did a search around the shop and found nobody inside, much to their relief. Hermione stepped over a thick piece of paper that wasn't completely ruined, and bent down to pick it up. The text was faded and ash-ridden, and Hermione blew on it to get rid of the debris.

"What is that?" Sirius asked over her shoulder, peering at the piece of paper. Hermione's stomach plummeted as she made out the words, feeling suddenly very dizzy.

"It's a business card," said Hermione faintly. "Of Xenophilius Lovegood."

Sirius furrowed his brows deeply, narrowing his eyes at the paper. "Is that the man who writes for The Quibbler?" Hermione nodded. "Why does a muggle shop owner have that bloke's business card?"

Hermione stepped back and glanced at the remains of the shop, the puzzle pieces slowly fitting. "Look around you, Sirius," she whispered harshly. "What kind of store do you think this was?"

"A…" Sirius glanced around, taking in the paper and the broken bits of machinery. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "This was a supply shop."

"Of paper," Hermione confirmed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Mr. Lovegood probably bought loads of paper off of the muggle who sells it here."

"But why from a muggle?" asked Sirius with a deep frown.

"Why not? It makes sense, doesn't it? The Quibbler is constantly writing about muggle equality and all sorts of eccentric things—who better to acquire paper from? They're setting their own example by it."

"Or maybe nobody else in their right mind in the Wizarding World would want to supply paper to someone like him," Sirius observed. He took her by the arm urgently. "We need to get out of here now, before somebody else arrives. We don't want to be caught at the scene."

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "Let's go."

Quickly and quietly, Sirius and Hermione slipped out of the destroyed paper shop and crossed the street, dashing through alleys. They no longer felt safe taking main roads, and criss-crossed through the town until they reached Godric's Hollow.

The door to the Potter house opened the moment they stood in front of the door. Dorea Potter was waiting at the door, and she grabbed Sirius and Hermione and roughly pulled them inside.

"Where have you been?" she hissed, closing the door behind them. She saw the state of Sirius and Hermione's clothes and blanched. "What happened? Why are you covered in dust?"

"There was an explosion on the way home," Hermione informed her, but apparently she could not have said anything worse. Dorea's eyes nearly popped from their sockets, and she pushed them away from the landing and into the living room.

James was leaning against a sofa, but immediately sprang forward when they were shoved onto the couch. "Thank Merlin," he sighed in relief. His face was stricken with worry, and Hermione was filled with confusion.

"What is it? Why is everybody on edge?" asked Hermione. She glanced between Dorea and James. "And where's Mr. Potter?"

"He's been called away at the ministry," said James quietly.

"What happened on your way home, Sirius?" asked Dorea seriously, her voice low and even.

Sirius straightened slightly at the sudden attention on him. "I picked up Hermione from the bakery, and on our way home, there was an explosion. One of the muggle shops had been attacked."

James and Dorea exchanged troubled looks, and Dorea said, "And?"

"We—well, we checked to see if anybody was hurt—"

"You shouldn't have!" exclaimed reprovingly at Sirius and Hermione, who winced at the sudden shouting. "In these times, if you hear loud bang outside, you leave immediately!"

"Somebody could have been hurt!" Hermione interjected hotly. "We couldn't just leave!"

"And how would two teenagers help, hmm? Are you planning on putting law enforcement out of business? They're there for a reason."

Hermione and Sirius said nothing. Sirius's fist was clenched tightly, and Hermione felt very much the same. Nothing they could say would earn them any kindness tonight.

"Which store was attacked?" asked Dorea finally. Her anger seemed to have abated for the time being.

"It was a muggle supply store for paper," Sirius replied. He looked at Hermione for a moment, wordlessly asking her permission. Hermione reached into her pocket, and withdrew a charred piece of paper. She handed it to Dorea.

"We found this there," she said, and Dorea inspected it worriedly.

"Xenophilius Lovegood?" she whispered. James took a step back, his mouth parted in shock.

"Oh…" he breathed, and before anyone could say anything, James sprinted to the staircase.

Hermione looked back at Dorea with a frown. "Why did you send Sirius to get me? What happened before the explosion?"

Dorea looked at her gravely, her lips pursed. "The dark mark was spotted over a house nearby," she said. "We were told it was very close to Godric's Hollow. Charlus left for the ministry immediately."

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. It was starting already. Things were already moving too fast, this was too soon, she only had destroyed a single horcrux—

The sound of tapping against glass sounded inside the living room. An owl was pecking insistently at the window, and Dorea immediately crossed the room and took the letter from its leg.

"What is it?" asked Sirius impatiently. Dorea looked up in surprise.

"It's addressed to you," she said. "To both of you."

Sirius and Hermione exchanged troubled looks, and Hermione reached for the letter. Hermione ripped open the envelope with trembling hands. There was no emblem or insignia, just their names. Inside was a small slip of paper.

Written in unmistakable handwriting, as if scribbled in desperate haste:

Help me.

Hermione looked at Sirius in horror.

"Regulus," said Sirius bleakly.

 

Notes:

Hello!

I want to thank Sigridhr again for beta'ing this fic. She is seriously amazing. If any of you enjoy the Avengers/Thor, Star Trek, Amelia Peabody, or the Tolkien series, her works are definitely worth a read.

Some important things will be rolling out now that Severus knows and Sirius is a sudden partner in Hermione's little detective work soon-to-come. I can't wait until Xenophilius Lovegood is introduced. I can't wait until everyone and everything is introduced. You guys are going to hate me forever (but in a really good way).

As always, you guys have shown me so much generosity in the kindness of your reviews and feedback. I swear I try to answer all of them, and I sincerely apologize if I've missed replying to some of you!

Until Chapter 14! xx

Chapter 14: Lovegoods and Revelations

CHAPTER 14

Lovegoods and Revelations

"He's a strong one, dear Aunt," Bellatrix said softly, a long fingernail running idly down his arm. "You did well today. Kept your family's honor alive."

Regulus stared at his mother across the room, who held his gaze steadily. The pride in her eyes tantamount to satisfaction sickened him. Here, finally, he felt the unadulterated hatred that his cousin was trying to pry out of him, but not in the form she wanted.

Icy fingers gripped him suddenly by the cheeks, puckering his lips as he was forced to look into hard, black eyes. "Are you ready to prove your worth to the Dark Lord?"

His eyes flitted to his mother one last time. A flash of annoyance crossed her face at Bellatrix's grip on Regulus, but other than a deep frown, she made no move to stop her. Sirius's irritating face popped up in his mind then. For so long he thought Sirius to be the idiot of the family, the one who broke his mother's heart when he left Grimmauld Place. Sirius, who had escaped.

His throat was too dry, and he knew that any word he'd utter at that moment would be nothing but a hoarse whisper. So instead, he gave a curt nod. Bellatrix's unchecked fingernails dug even deeper into his skin.

A pleased grin spread on her lips, and she bounced backward in her approval. "I knew I could trust you, baby cousin. Gather your things," she made a careless gesture for him to move to the staircase, "your initiation awaits."

Cold dread filled his stomach. Regulus's eyes flitted to his mother.

"Upstairs, Regulus. Mummy has to talk to your cousin for a bit." Regulus nodded and turned around wordlessly, marching up the stairs. Faintly in the background he could hear her exchanging sharp words with Bellatrix. Mind racing, muscles tensed, Regulus strode to his room and quietly closed the door. He made for Celsus, opening his cage with trembling fingers and hastily scribbling a note on a scrap of parchment. The elegant owl ruffled his feathers with a worried hoot, unaccustomed to Regulus acting so strangely.

"Shush, shush," he whispered, tying the note with fumbling fingers. Celsus fluttered his wings again, and Regulus stroked his feathers soothingly. "Quick and quiet," Regulus murmured, looking into Celsus's sharp red eyes imploringly. "Make sure you are not seen, and return immediately. Don't wait for a reply. Okay?"

Celsus hooted affirmatively and took off without a sound.

Regulus sagged against the window. It was a stupid thing to do. He should not have written to them—no, he truly should not have. He'd put them all in danger. How would Sirius and Hermione help him? Sirius would not…he could hear the long-suffering words already… 'I told you, Reggie, now look what you've done…made Mother proud, haven't you?'

The door to his room flew open, and Regulus straightened. "Mother?" he said in confusion.

"No need to get ready so soon," she said crisply, appearing very pink in the face. The argument with Bellatrix must have been more taxing than he thought. "I've spoken with your cousin. You will begin your—services—at the proper date and time."

"And when is that?" he asked quietly.

"You'll know when." The stern look faded and she walked up to him, pressing her palm lovingly to his cheek. "You did the right thing, darling," she said, smiling proudly. "You've brought honor to our family again. You have no idea what this will mean, what future will await us…without this, without you…." She looked troubled for the briefest moment, as if tempted to say more. But she did not; Walburga Black pressed her lips into a thin smile and brushed them lightly against his cheek, and left the room.

When he was younger, much younger than now, he might have agreed. The details were always obscured, because back then his mother would gently explain these sentiments to him and he would listen with wide-eyed wonder, but never a minute later Sirius would pull him to the side and tell him that mother was wrong. He was tugged on both sides since birth, Sirius wishing him to ignore the family motto and his parents wanting Regulus to uphold it. It wasn't until he learned the absolute power of forbidden magic that he began to sway the other way. Who wouldn't be interested in that kind of magic, with power and possibilities beyond his wildest imagination?

But this—this is not what he wanted. Not after Bellatrix…not after what he had seen, and what he had done. Not when the Dark Lord personally asked for him; when his mother relied upon him so heavily in the name of family honor; when Sirius found an escape from this house and showed him there was an alternative; when Hermione Granger was able to wield dark magic but did not taint her hands with the malice behind it.

Regulus blinked at the realization. Hermione Granger was actively curious about dark magic—she used dark magic—and yet she could not be more different than Regulus. They were one of the same, and yet their fates could not be more different.

Regulus walked slowly to his bed and sat down. His back was straight and his countenance calm. Celsus reappeared at the window, letting herself in and looking hopefully at Regulus. He reached over and fed Celsus a treat, earning him an appreciative nip on the finger.

Abruptly, Regulus walked to his desk once more and picked up his quill.

xxx

"Sirius, slow down—" Hermione stumbled on the stairs as she tried to match Sirius's long strides, "—will you wait! You can't just rush into this—"

They reached the top of the stairs and Sirius threw open his bedroom door. Hermione hesitated for a fraction of a second before following him inside. Sirius was moving things around haphazardly, as if looking for something, and made a noise of triumph when he found a piece of parchment.

Hermione's eyes widened and her hand shot to his wrist to stop him. "No," she said fiercely. "It's not safe. You cannot owl him."

"Let go, Hermione."

"Listen to me. Think about what Mrs. Potter just told us. The Dark Mark was sighted here and we saw a store get blasted into pieces, and now Regulus sends for help? We both know what's really going on here, and I'm telling you we have to think this through."

"He's my brother," said Sirius angrily.

"The letter has my name on it too," said Hermione sharply. "And we have to think carefully about what we do next." Hermione slid her hand from his wrist to grasp him firmly by his hand. "Please, just think for a moment what will happen if your owl is intercepted. If someone other than Regulus reads your reply and gets wind that he asked for your help, they will hurt him as well as us."

Sirius's body tensed briefly. He returned her grip on his hand, looking angrily at the ground. The muscle jumping in his jaw slowly ceased. Finally, he met her eyes again, cold grey irises filled with trepidation.

"What, then?"

"Well," she started, but did not know what to say. Her eyes darted around the room unsurely before landing on the window. She pointed at it. "We could start by letting that owl in."

A large black owl had just swooped down at Sirius's window and began tapping the glass impatiently. Sirius unlatched the window and untied the note, jumping slightly when the owl launched into flight without further preamble. Closing the window tightly, Sirius sat next to Hermione and ripped open the note.

All is well. Don't send a reply owl.

"That's it?" Sirius said incredulously, turning over the letter to check the back. Hermione let out a sigh.

"I told you," Hermione said shakily, reading the note herself. "Sending an owl would've been disastrous."

"This doesn't explain anything. What happened? How do I get in contact with him?" Sirius kicked a box by his bed angrily. "Bloody git! This is just like him! Riling us up, then lying through his teeth! I bloody hate him!"

Hermione said nothing. She was worried at what could be happening right now at Grimmauld Place, wondering what could have compelled Regulus, who wasted no time declaring his absolute hatred for Sirius, to ask him for help. And why did he address Hermione as well? Their last exchange was far from friendly.

"One thing is for certain," Hermione said quietly. She looked at Sirius gravely. "He's being initiated to the Death Eaters. There's no other explanation why he would owl us these messages on the day all these attacks happened."

Sirius gazed back at her intently, as if trying to solve a riddle in her eyes. "I agree," he said finally. "There's no doubt about it. My idiot little brother is going to be one of them. But he doesn't want it anymore. I'm not sure if he wanted it at all. He was always fond of the dark arts—no, he bloody loved it. He just didn't realize there was a difference between fascination and practice."

"So what do we do?"

Sirius shrugged with a deeply frustrated scowl. "Hell if I know. Can't bloody owl him, can we? And I'm not about to knock on the door to my house and ask to see him. We'll just have to wait and see if he contacts us again."

"I don't think he can, or will. We have to get him out of that house," Hermione frowned deeply, chewing her lower lip in thought. An idea sparked in her head. "Snape!" she exclaimed.

Sirius gave her an ugly look.

"Regulus is friends with Snape," Hermione said emphatically. "I could, I don't know, owl Snape and ask him to owl Regulus saying he wants to see him. And we'll be there when they meet up. Nobody would suspect Snape to be working with us."

"Yeah, with good reason," said Sirius bluntly. "He won't help us, Hermione, or have you forgotten that Snape marches with the Slytherin Death-Eaters-To-Be day and night at Hogwarts?"

"I know him better than you think, Sirius," said Hermione firmly. "He hates you, yes, but I will be the one to ask him. He'll listen, I'm sure of it."

"You have an awful lot of faith in him, you know," said Sirius. "I know judging you in the past hasn't gotten me very far, but there's a reason why Snape doesn't get on with anyone. He knows more dark magic than anyone in the school. He's just no good, Hermione."

"I know," said Hermione quietly. "You're not wrong in thinking this. You've known him for five years so you know what he's been like." Hermione shook her head. "But I know him too, and you have to understand that there's more to people than black and white. He's grown up, Sirius, and so have you. This time last September, you would've considered hexing me just for the thought that I'd ask help from Snape. People change. Trust me on this."

Sirius looked unconvinced. Hermione sighed loudly. "Do you have any other brilliant idea of how to help Regulus? No?" Sirius scowled at her, but said nothing. "Well, there we have it."

"Not today then," Sirius deflated. "We'll wait a few days before doing anything. It would be…safer…for him, I think."

Hermione nodded, inspecting him warily. For the time being, he seemed ready to let it go. "Where's James run off to?" Hermione suddenly remembered, realizing she last saw him run up the staircase frantically several minutes ago.

Sirius shrugged.

"Let's go then," Hermione stood up and strode out of the room. Reaching the door, Hermione knocked twice. "James?"

"Don't bother," Sirius rolled his eyes and opened the door.

James was sitting on his bed, glasses drooping to the point of his nose and holding a newspaper. "What you got there, mate?"

James looked up in surprise and sighed, tossing the paper towards Sirius. "Nothing. I thought maybe there'd be something in here, but there wasn't anything. When you mentioned Xenophilius Lovegood, I couldn't help but be a little…worried."

Hermione sat down next to him. "Have you still been documenting the mysterious muggle deaths?"

James nodded. "I have, but there wasn't anything in the last issue. I dunno, mysterious deaths, the Dark Mark suddenly appearing, and that paper shop blowing up…this isn't a coincidence."

"I wish we had a television or something, just to see what's happening in the muggle world," Hermione said wistfully. "I suppose we could start a subscription to one of their newspapers…"

"A tele-what?" James asked with a puzzled expression.

"It's like a box with moving pictures and colors where people tell the news, or have movies and shows airing." Hermione explained. At Sirius and James's blank faces, she sighed. "I'll show you next time we're in the city."

"Regardless, we need to get to the bottom of this," Sirius continued firmly. "I can't just sit here waiting for something to happen. We need answers."

"Dorea would never allow us to leave the house any time soon, not after the Mark showed up," Hermione frowned.

"Not forever. And the first chance we get, we have to get to the bottom of this."

"We should see Xenophilius Lovegood," James said suddenly. "Anything could happen to him now, and despite the utter nonsense that's filled in the Quibbler, he was the only one to catch the strange deaths. I'm betting he got wind of the Death Eater's movements and he's been sent a warning."

"Death Eaters don't send warnings, with itching powder in an envelope," said Sirius mildly. "They set examples. If they wanted to hurt Xenophilius specifically, he would've been dead long ago."

"So you're saying that shop blowing up was coincidence?" asked Hermione skeptically.

"I'm saying we don't know anything for certain," said Sirius. "And James might be right here. We should go see him. There's nothing else we can do right now."

Hermione nodded. They had a point. Visiting Xenophilius could potentially answer several questions that had been eating at her mind for months.

"I just hope he's okay," Hermione said worriedly. "If he was a target, he must be in danger. The Ministry is probably seeing him now already."

The three paused their conversation when they heard the door slam loudly downstairs. Exchanging looks, they instantly flew out the door and to the living room, finding a very tired Charlus Potter settling down into an armchair.

Dorea stepped in urgently. "Well?" Her voice was wavering and afraid, as if terrified to know whose name he would say.

"There was nobody inside that house," Charlus said tiredly. "Very odd business. Ministry officials got rid of the Dark Mark, and when they went inside, it was empty. It's like they all vanished."

"What family lived there?" Hermione asked. Charlus exchanged looks with Dorea and shook his head.

"That's not for me to tell," said Charlus. "And it's best for your three not to meddle in this. These are dangerous times, not for three teenagers to try to solve."

"But Dad—" James protested.

"No," he said firmly. "Be grateful nobody has been seriously hurt. It's late now; you should be off to bed anyway."

James, Sirius, and Hermione stared mutinously. Dorea moved to them impatiently and started to shoo them away. "Up you go then, you heard him! In your beds!" Grudgingly they went up the staircase but stopped once they reached the hallway, leaning down the railing to hear if Charlus was telling Dorea any more, but it was not so.

"Probably cast a Silencing charm," James muttered.

Hermione sighed and headed to her room, wondering who lived in the house where the Dark Mark was cast.

xxx

"I don't feel right doing this," Hermione whispered harshly as they stealthily headed out of the Potter house. A full two weeks had gone by since the explosion at the muggle shop, and the Potters had kept Sirius, James, and Hermione on a strict rule that kept them from leaving the house without supervision.

The beginning was the worst. Sirius out of all of them was like a coiled spring, gaining energy each passing second and waiting to be released. The confines of James's house had never bothered him before, but the absolute restriction upon him and the rest of the family was one he had no real right to contest (at least, that was what he presumed), and to some vague degree understood. It did not mean, however, that he was quiet about it.

"I asked mum if we could have muggle food today," said James reassuringly. "And we're going out to get it."

"I don't think she had this in mind when she gave you permission," Hermione said breathlessly as they walked speedily down the block.

"We'll climb that hippogriff when we get there," said Sirius. "Do you have the address, James?"

"'Course," James assured. "It'll be a bit of a walk though. Damn, I wish Apparation was taught in fifth year instead of sixth. We could've done this much more quickly."

"We could always call the Knight Bus," Hermione suggested.

Sirius shook his head. "Too risky. Anyone could be on it who'll recognize us. I'd prefer a quiet affair, thanks."

They walked in silence for a length of time, the summer sun beating down particularly bright that day, causing a red flush on all of their cheeks. Hermione wished she had brought something to tie her mess of hair up.

James suddenly stopped.

"His house is just along this path," James pointed ahead. Hermione squinted.

"This is it?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

James nodded. "This is his address. He lives in a flat here." At Hermione's skeptical expression, he frowned, "What?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Nothing. I just expected something different, I guess. Something more in the country."

Hermione was referring to her knowledge of where Luna lived. She knew the Weasleys and the Lovegoods were distant neighbors, but clearly she did not know for how long.

James shrugged, and together the three approached the front door. Standing nervously, no one moved to knock for a few moments. Sighing, Hermione leaned forward and knocked three times.

A shout came from within, and Hermione flinched. Sirius tensed to her right, and James watched curiously.

The door flew open, and the first thing they saw was electric blue eyes. Hermione faltered at the familiarity of them, and Sirius said, "Xenophilius Lovegood?"

"Are you here for the Thestral Convention?" asked Xenophilius excitedly. He appeared to be very young, perhaps two or three years older than them, his pale blond hair brushing his shoulders in tangled wisps. He was dressed in an extremely odd fashion, wearing multicolored robes with orange feathers poking out from the sleeves.

"The what?" asked Sirius, looking at him oddly.

"Clearly not then, what a shame indeed. Better to start off young, that's how it all begins anyway! Would you like to attend? Unless," a shrewd look suddenly overcame him, and Xenophilius looked at the trio suspiciously. "Are you solicitors? Consorts of the Ministry? Or of the Prophet? Don't tell me they're starting young as well."

"Have they been here, then?" asked James curiously.

Xenophilius sniffed. "They certainly have. Nearly couldn't finish my latest article on Scandinavian Bluff Imps, they stayed so long. I don't have time for that kind of interruption today, apologies! It's best you go," his voice turned business-like as he began to close the door, but Hermione stopped the door before it could.

"We're not from the Prophet or the Ministry!" Hermione interjected. "Please, sir, we just wanted to ask about your newspaper."

Xenophilius paused. "The Quibbler?" Sirius, James, and Hermione nodded vigorously. A brilliant smile broke out on his face, and Xenophilius pushed the door open wide. "Well why didn't you tell me from the beginning? Come in, come in! Lyanna, is there a pot of tea made? We have guests!"

No response came from within, but Xenophilius did not seem surprised. They entered what appeared like a grossly overpopulated antique shop; the furniture was misshapen and lumpy, and the walls were covered with bright green wallpaper that seemed almost luminescent. Dozens of bits and bobs were littered on every surface, with drawers and tables overflowing with strange objects, and the room lined with bookcases filled with potions supplies. It was an interesting duo of chaos and intellect, and if everything was not so horrifically much, Hermione would have appreciated it greatly.

She did not have time to dwell on the thought, however. Instantly they were seated at a wooden table in the shape of a pentagon, and five saucers were thrown haphazardly down by Xenophilius. Hermione realized belatedly that he was still talking, rapidly and excitedly. She slid her gaze to James, who was listening attentively. Sirius looked like he was just trying to keep up.

"Earl Grey?" Xenophilius asked, producing a pot in his hands.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione smiled politely. Xenophilius took a seat as well and folded his hands.

"So. So. Fans? Struggling with inspiration suddenly bursting forth?"

"Intrigued readers, sir," replied James.

Xenophilius gave a wounded look. "That again? Merlin, do I look like a 'sir'? When did that happen? Lyanna! Do you think I'm a 'sir' now?" No response came again. Xenophilius beamed. "I do think she's mocking me."

"Is Lyanna…?"

"My partner in crime," Xenophilius straightened in his seat proudly, fiddling with the golden band around his finger. "It's been about two years now, last I checked! Not the easiest, but certainly the most fun. She's a potions master, Lyanna. Graduated Hogwarts with distinction. Me though, I'm dead awful at potions. Never got the hang of precision and ingredients and simmering—but she does!" He grinned again. "So, what really brings you to my doorstep?"

Hermione exchanged glances with Sirius and James, before taking a breath. "Well, actually, you see—well, James here, he's been reading the Quibbler for a very long time—"

"Almost religiously," Sirius informed.

"—and he noticed that in a particular section of your paper, you listed some important, ah…deaths, so to speak—"

"Patterns," James added, fussing with his hair in a way that almost seemed bashful.

"And it interested all of us, really," Hermione finished.

Xenophilius blinked. "Well, what? What was it that interested you?"

"It was the pattern of deaths in your obituaries, si—Xenophilius," James corrected quickly. "I've been reading both the Prophet and the Quibbler closely for a very long time, and I've noticed that the Daily Prophet…well, it tends to glance over the more menial, 'less important' cases. Most muggleborns and squibs aren't covered at all, but yours do—and you also document muggle deaths. And—and there's a pattern. It's what lead us here to speak to you in person."

"A pattern of deaths?" said Xenophilius, intrigued. "I—I suppose some of them could be considered, well, odd, but I never really thought more of it—"

"It's been very important that you documented them," Hermione said seriously. "With Death Eaters on the rise, and the political propaganda that's spreading amongst the pureblooded societies, this is exactly the kind of thing they wouldn't want the common witch or wizard to know. It's all being hidden and hushed, and maybe the Prophet doesn't realize it either, or the Ministry hasn't been giving it a top priority, but you have been writing about them."

For the first time since their meeting, Xenophilius was struck silent. He looked at the trio carefully, appearing much younger than Hermione thought he would be.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

"You know about the shop that blew up two weeks ago?" Sirius inquired.

Xenophilius nodded slowly. "Ministry officials came by to ask me several questions, wondering if I was still alive. 'Course I knew it was all rubbish, I hardly think a Death Eater would target me; I'm just a silly writer. Just a silly writer…"

"The shop that was targeted was the one that supplied parchment for you newspaper," said James, leaning forward in his seat. "I'm sorry, but I can't help but think this wasn't a coincidence."

"I'm afraid it was," said Xenophilius firmly. "What mad men do in their spare time is their own affair, and it was unfortunate that their muggle target was the supply shop I did business with. Now, I don't know what answers you were looking for when stopping by, but I fear that this is all the help I can give you. I know nothing else, nor did I suspect of a—a pattern of deaths, as you say—"

"But sir, please, we're just—"

"I'm sorry," Xenophilius shook his head furiously. "No, I really am. I'm afraid I'm just of no use to you right now. I genuinely do not know any more than I've told you already. I didn't suspect anything strange these past few months. There is nothing more I can do for you."

Hermione scowled and turned to Sirius impatiently. His eyes flickered to hers and she saw him nod mutely, his expression understanding. There was nothing else to be done today.

"We'll be off, then," said Sirius courteously. They stood up, and Xenophilius walked them to the door. "Just one more thing," Sirius added. "Have there been any more deaths lately? There was nothing in your last paper."

Xenophilius shook his head again. "No, actually. There haven't been any deaths in the muggle world or the wizarding world in the past few weeks." Suddenly Xenophilius's eyebrows knitted together, as if realizing something. He blinked and then cleared his throat, ushering them outside.

The door closed loudly behind them, and they walked a full three blocks before James exploded. "He didn't know anything! How could someone not know anything about what's going on? He's got his own newspaper, for Merlin's sake!"

"What a foul little man," Hermione bristled, her mind still buzzing with agitation. "Of all people, I never thought he'd be the one to say 'what mad men do in their spare time is their own affair'. The reason why these problems keep happening is because people keep ignoring them!"

"We did find out one important thing though," said Sirius gravely. "Nothing's been happening for weeks now. No random death. No suspicious activity that Xenophilius would usually catch. It's as if the Death Eaters have gone silent."

"The calm before the storm," said Hermione, a slight shiver passing through her. "I really…don't know what will happen now."

Sirius rubbed her shoulder and smiled at Hermione encouragingly. "None of us do. But that won't stop us."

The return to their home was a silent and stealthy affair once more; James signaled for them to come inside once he confirmed it was safe to do so—the last thing they needed after their unsuccessful meeting with Xenophilius Lovegood was Mrs. Potter's shouty disappointment.

Hermione closed the door to her room and sank onto her bed. After all she had anticipated when meeting Luna's father…this was far beyond her imagination. "How could he not know anything?" Hermione whispered to the ceiling incredulously. Was it really all by random chance? Was everything James had been documenting really unnoticed by Xenophilius himself? Or was he merely saying that to throw them off?

Hermione did not know the answers to any of those, nor did she have much chance to dwell on them. A soft hoot came from her table, and Hermione jolted up in surprise.

"Did you let yourself in?" Hermione asked, bemused, as she walked over to her desk. The window was already open, and a tawny owl was perched atop her copy of Hogwarts, A History. A letter was tied to the owl's leg and Hermione took it carefully. "Sorry if you had to wait a bit. I was out on a very uneventful goose chase. Here," she pushed a small dish of water, to which the owl took a generous gulp. Hooting gratefully, it waited for Hermione to read the letter.

Ripping the seal open, Hermione's eyes flew over the words written on the parchment. She read it twice more to be certain, and breathed in deeply. "You're waiting for a reply, right?" Hermione looked at the owl again. It ruffled its feathers affirmatively. "Hang on a minute, then."

Hermione left her room and crossed the corridor. The door to Sirius's bedroom was ajar, and she knocked twice before pushing it open.

Sirius was flipping through a catalogue when she poked her head in. He glanced up in surprise. "Hermione?"

She held out the letter as she let herself inside. "I think it's time."

Throwing the catalogue aside, Sirius launched to his feet and pored over the contents of the letter. "Tuesday?" he noted mildly. "Who the hell does anything on a Tuesday?"

"I'm not even going to try and understand what that means," Hermione said irately. "Severus knows what he's doing."

"He'd better," said Sirius, before reading the letter again. "Well, we should figure out what we're going to say to them. To Regulus, I mean." He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I have no clue what we're going to do about this."

"We're going to try to help him," said Hermione softly.

"And how do we do that? 'Please Reggie don't become a Death Eater'?"

"Something more constructive is what I'm hoping for," Hermione remarked dryly. "First, we have to know exactly what is going on with him. No more ideas and half-guesses. What happens after that…we'll see. Come on."

They headed to Hermione's room where the owl was waiting patiently. Sirius clasped his hands behind his back casually as Hermione rummaged her desk for a quill. "Honestly…where in Merlin's name are all my quills?" Hermione muttered under her breath. "I think—maybe my trunk—oh whatever," Hermione grabbed a pencil and piece of parchment and scribbled her reply. "Where should we say to meet? The Leaky Cauldron?"

"And be seen by the entire wizarding population? No thanks," Sirius crossed his arms.

"You've been awfully paranoid lately," Hermione remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"When you have Bellatrix Black as a relative, you learn to be more cautious."

"Alright, then…someplace muggle? Outdoors?"

"Too many eyes watching."

"Inside?"

"Too many ears listening."

"Outer space, then? Or are there interplanetary wizards too?"

Sirius smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would've already if there were," Hermione rolled her eyes. "How about somewhere inside? We could go to that bakery Severus and I went to several weeks ago. It seemed safe enough for me, and not too crowded."

"Crowded would be preferred, actually…"

"Sirius, make up your mind!"

"Yes, yes, alright! To hell with it. Let's go to your muggle bakery."

Hermione folded the letter neatly into an envelope and sent the owl on its way. She smiled hopefully. "It'll be okay, Sirius. Trust me. We'll figure this out somehow."

"I'm sure," said Sirius calmly, a sharp contrast to his troubled expression. He picked up her pencil and inspected it, before drawing a scribble onto a sheet of paper. Knitting his eyebrows together, Sirius said, "If these things exist, why the hell are we still using quills and ink?"

xxx

The details of their rendezvous were sent back the next day with stern instructions written out carefully by Severus. Sirius managed not to roll his eyes more than ten times while reading the reply letter, and even began planning out what their cover story would be when telling the Potters where they were going.

"Explain to me again why I have to stay here, while you two traverse to a muggle café and have all the fun without me?" James folded his arms over his chest, the smallest trace of a pout forming on his bottom lip.

"Because, dear James, somebody has to stay behind and protect the family name," said Sirius, mirth dancing in his eyes despite the seriousness of the matter. "And it's not a café, it's a bakery."

"Because that makes all the difference in the world."

"You weren't really in the original plan, James," Hermione reminded. "Besides, having three people show up is far more suspicious than two. Two is small and discreet."

"And three is an army," said James dryly. "Very well. I'll stay. Just be safe, alright?" James looked at Sirius seriously. "I mean it. No funny business today, mate."

"I wouldn't today, you know that."

James nodded, and turned to Hermione. "Good luck."

Sirius and Hermione left the house without too much grief from the Potters. Things were starting to normalize again since the sighting of the Dark Mark weeks ago, and they realized that hiding and living in fear was no way to go about their business.

It was a healthy walk to the bakery from Godric's Hollow, but there wasn't much alternative. And while Sirius was normally good company, neither of them could be distracted from the task at hand today. Upon reaching the bakery, Hermione fiddled with her purse and glanced around surreptitiously. "I think it's safe," she murmured.

Sirius nodded. They walked inside and headed to a booth near the far corner. Neither Regulus nor Snape could be seen, and Hermione checked her watch.

"They're late," said Sirius under his breath.

"They're not late," Hermione sighed.

"If they're not here ten minutes early, they're late."

"Says who?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"The laws of etiquette," Sirius scowled.

"And I assume you wrote them?"

"I merely enforce them."

"So if someone were to arrive on time…?"

"They're very late."

"Yes, that makes complete sense—"

"It does, in fact—"

"Fighting like a pair of old hens already?" a smooth voice drawled over them, and they saw Severus standing before them with his hands in his pockets. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Sirius leaned sideways and glanced behind him. "No friends with you today?"

"He wanted to maintain a healthy distance while walking over here," Severus replied, with a twinge of annoyance in his voice. "Standards to keep, I'm told."

Sirius let out a genuine snort, and Severus narrowed his eyes. The door to the bakery swung open and in walked Regulus, flushed and slightly out of breath. Hermione's eyes roved over him and didn't detect any overt harm done to him, except he looked slightly thinner than when she last saw him on the Hogwarts Express.

Regulus slid into the booth wordlessly, choosing to sit beside Hermione. Snape looked over at Sirius in disgust, and Sirius refused to move over. Hermione scowled deeply.

"Sit. Down," she said through her teeth. "People are staring."

That did the trick. Sirius shuffled a bit to let Severus sit beside him, but Severus sat at the very edge of the booth as to ensure the greatest amount of space was between them. Sirius moved as far as possible from Snape, both of them sitting uncomfortably with identically expressions of distaste.

"Did everything go alright?" Hermione spoke first. She looked to Regulus. "You got out of the house fine, right?"

"No questions were asked," he replied softly. "Snape's plan was a good one. Spending the day with a future Death Eater doesn't cause much suspicion in my family."

Severus flinched but said nothing. Sirius's expression darkened instantly, his hands gripping the wood of the table forcefully. "I knew it." He narrowed his eyes loathingly. "I—"

"No," Hermione cut him off with a stern look. "We don't have time for that."

Sirius gave her an incredulous look. "Hermione, open your eyes! He's bloody joining them!"

"And he brought your brother here to help him! Doesn't that mean there's something about this situation you're not aware of?"

Sirius still looked at Severus with repugnance, but she could see the confusion and questions in his eyes. "Why are you helping us, Snape? What are you doing here?"

Severus slid his eyes slowly to Sirius, fixing him with a carefully blank stare. "Hermione asked for my help. I'd thought you would understand what helping our friends means."

"And is my brother your friend?"

Severus gave him a long-suffering look before turning to Hermione. "Can I speak to you in private?"

Hermione nodded slowly, avoiding Regulus and Sirius's stares, and slid out of the booth. She could feel Sirius burning a hole through the back of her head as she was pulled outside the bakery.

"Yes?" she asked Severus.

It took only a glance to see Severus's patience was wearing thin. Clenching his hands into light fists then loosening his grip, Severus sighed. "Don't you think this would be easier if they knew?"

It took a moment for her to understand what he meant. Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you mad? You think they're ready for that? They'll think I'm making it all up!"

"Would they?" Severus prodded. "I know it was…difficult…telling me everything, and admittedly there was a period of disbelief for me, but don't you see how impossible it is right now to correctly explain to them why I am joining the Death Eaters, and how we could help Regulus out of this? How will Sirius and Regulus trust me to help if they don't believe I'm on their side?"

"Then tell them the truth about why you're joining! Because you're a-a spy!"

"And why would a sixteen-year-old want to be a spy for the Death Eaters? You honestly think they'll believe that, after knowing my…past history?" he said delicately. Hermione was panicking. No, she wasn't ready for that…she couldn't tell them she was from the future. It wasn't time yet to tell them—to tell Sirius.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell them right now. It's just not the right time."

Severus looked at her frustratedly and turned away. She could feel his disappointment as it passed through her, but she would not change her mind. Severus didn't know just how dangerous it was to start this right now, in such a precarious situation.

"Then what do we tell them?" asked Severus finally.

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe…as close to the truth as we can get. Maybe—maybe I don't have to tell them I'm from the future just yet, but I can tell them that I want to bring Voldemort's organization down." Severus shuddered violently.

"Don't say that name out loud!"

"It doesn't matter!" Hermione whispered harshly.

"There're ears everywhere, Hermione! It's not safe right now to be bold."

"Alright, alright," Hermione placated. "Well, what do you think? Giving that explanation could work. And it might actually smooth over some questions Sirius has been having about me."

Severus looked off in the distance again, thinking rapidly. "It will have to do."

They walked back inside and found Sirius and Regulus exactly as they left them; silent and stewing in each other's company.

"Nice chat?" asked Sirius innocuously.

Hermione didn't respond to Sirius's snark. "There are things that Severus and I have to tell you. But first, we need to focus on why we're here. Regulus?"

Regulus looked up, startled at the unexpected attention placed on him so soon.

"Yes?"

Hermione pinned him with a firm stare. "We can't even begin to help you unless we understand what's going on. You need to tell us what's happened, and what those letters you sent a few weeks ago mean."

Regulus's eyes flitted to Severus then Sirius, looking like a trapped animal. She could see the doubt and fear behind those grey eyes and the boyish face, already burdened at his young age. He swallowed convulsively as his eyes hardened, pulling up defensive walls that he was so accustomed to having.

He dropped his gaze. "I'm not sure what to tell you," Regulus answered quietly.

Sirius made a noise of impatience. "Damn it, Reg, just spit it out. We're just trying to help—"

"I don't want your help," Regulus hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. "Did that thought occur to you, or did it get stuck in that ridiculously long hair of yours?"

"You sent us a letter for help," Sirius reminded calmly, refusing to rise to Regulus's instigation.

"A mistake. I sent a reply if you remember, informing you that all was well."

"And yet here you are," Hermione interjected, arching an eyebrow. "You didn't have to agree to Severus's plan. You knew we would be here, and you knew why you would be here. Stop trying to fool us and stop trying to divert us from what you're trying to hide. We can stay here all day, if that's how you want to do it."

Regulus fumed silently, glaring at Hermione with such intensity that Hermione had to fight away the impulse to fidget. She held his gaze steadfastly, until the coldness in his stare faltered; until his expression turned troubled once again and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he broke away from her eyes and looked at his hands as they joined together tightly.

"I don't want it."

He spoke so softly that they almost missed it. Sirius inhaled sharply, but remained silent. Severus did not look surprised.

Regulus lifted his gaze and stared angrily back at Sirius. "Why did you have to leave? Why did you leave and force my hand into this?"

"I left for the same reason you're here," said Sirius patiently. "I didn't want that life."

"And now it is mine. I'm—I'm to be initiated this Saturday, keeping the family name sparkling and pristine." He looked away with his brows knitted together. "I didn't know…I didn't realize what this all meant until the Dark Mark happened…and now I'm stuck."

"Do you want to leave?" asked Hermione softly. "It's—I don't think it's too late for that. Sirius left, didn't he? You could to."

"And go where?" Regulus sneered bitterly. "To the Potters? You think they want another orphan under their roof? I would rather eat a jar of dung beetles than be indebted to yet another person."

"So you want to stay?" Sirius demanded. "Because you sound very resigned for someone who doesn't want it."

"I'm going to be initiated," Regulus repeated, his lips curling derisively. "That isn't going to change no matter what we discuss today."

"So that's it? You're just going to be a Death Eater?" said Sirius incredulously, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

"It's like we've said," Hermione frowned at Regulus. "Everybody has a choice, no matter what. Did you already make your choice?"

Regulus looked back at her intensely, his eyes wide and filled with an unnamable emotion. Slowly, he nodded.

Sirius leaned back heavily against the booth and glared at his brother. "You're a goddamn fool, Regulus. You don't want it, but you won't even try to leave it. The hell do you want us to do about that? What are you playing at?"

"I don't know!" Regulus exclaimed, a crazed look in his eyes. "I don't know, alright? I—I can't stop what's happening now, and I can't help but not want to be a part of it! I can't leave it because I have a responsibility now—and unlike you, I actually want to protect my family."

"Oh yes, our family," Sirius seethed, his hands curling until his knuckles cracked. "A magnificent family we have. Was it the third or fifth time when we saw Bella perform the Cruciatus on our house-elves that you decided you wanted to protect that family? Or when dear old Father hung us by our toes for stepping out of line—how old were we there, again? Seven and six? And Mum, oh I could spin tales about her—"

"Don't you bring her into this," Regulus growled menacingly. "You know she's different, you know she is different!"

"Boys!" Hermione shrieked, alarmed. "We're in a bloody bakery! You need to calm down and lower your voices!"

"I have nothing left to say anyway," Sirius grimaced, standing up suddenly. "This was a waste of time."

"Just when I was wondering how long it would take for you to run away again," Regulus mocked.

"Regulus, for once in your life shut the hell up," Hermione snapped. "Sirius, sit down. Sit down." She glared furiously at the elder Black brother until he acquiesced, collapsing back down on the booth with a brooding expression. Hermione glanced at Severus, who was quietly watching the scene.

"And thank you, Severus, for being so helpful these past few minutes," Hermione couldn't help the sarcasm that leaked into her voice. Severus blinked calmly.

"I think that argument was long overdue," said Severus silkily. "It wasn't my place to interfere just when they were getting somewhere. Now, I assume both of you have run out of unintelligent things to say?"

No response came except a paralleled sound of huffed breaths.

Severus smiled faintly.

"Good. Regulus," Severus turned his attention to the youngest of their company. "You're going to be a Death Eater. That seems fairly final from the way you've described it to us."

Regulus pursed his lips, but did not disagree. Severus continued, "And we know your family and your love of the Dark Arts brought this on you."

"It's not just a love for Dark Arts," Regulus interrupted, already appearing tired. "You know I am fond of all the practices this world has to offer. Why should I limit my knowledge to just what we're taught in school?"

"Because it's doing you so much good now," Sirius scoffed ruthlessly, staring at his brother as if he were constantly holding back the impulse to whack the back of his head.

"Not now, Black," Snape finally spoke to Sirius directly, giving him an irritated look. "The time for childish comments is over. We have to find a solution to our problem."

"Childish comments are fitting for a childish boy." Hermione kicked Sirius under the table, and he went silent.

Severus ignored them. "I already anticipated this to be your reason for initially contacting Hermione and Black, and then withdrawing your plea for help. I must ask for certainty, though, so answer truthfully." Severus leaned forward on the table, fixing Regulus with a firm stare. "Do you believe in the motto and practices of the Death Eaters and their leader? Do you agree with them?"

Regulus clenched his jaw as his muscles tensed. He shook his head firmly. "No."

Hermione could see the relief in Severus's eyes. He straightened abruptly and nodded. "Good. Then we have a solution."

Regulus frowned. "What solution could there possibly be?" asked Sirius bluntly.

Severus glanced at Hermione, and she inhaled deeply, bracing herself. "It's what I mentioned before, when I said Severus and I have some information that you should…probably know." She glanced nervously at Snape again. He nodded encouragingly.

This was it. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she let the words spill from her mouth, "We're going to try to bring down You-Know-Who's organization."

Hermione expected some disbelief or silence, but she did not anticipate the genuinely mirthful laughter that came from Regulus. Hermione gave him a withering look as he chortled, with some of Regulus's usual annoying charm reviving inside of him.

"Oh Granger," Regulus wiped his eyes. "Just when I thought you didn't have a sense of humor."

"You're joking," Sirius half-smiled, a sharp contrast to the worry building inside him.

"She's not," Severus confirmed. "It's why I'm going to join them. We need someone on the inside to bring him down."

Sirius was mumbling and shaking his head, rejecting the idea altogether. "No. No way. You can't do that. You're bloody sixteen; you think you can change the world? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because Voldemort destroyed my life and my family," Hermione said evenly. All three of the boys sitting around her flinched to some degree. "I'm not afraid of saying his name, and I'm not afraid of him. You think things are bad now? Think about how bad it will be a few years from now, if they're allowed to continue terrorizing the wizarding world! Not even that, they're targeting the muggle world as well! They're getting away with these supremacist ideas because they're catering to the pureblooded society of the wizarding world. And I—I'm not going to sit here and wait for them to come to my doorstep and kill me."

"Hermione," Sirius's voice was soft with understanding. "You know I agree with you. But just…how are you planning on doing this? How will you go up against people the Ministry of Magic can't control? This isn't a game; you can get seriously hurt! We're just…we're just a bunch of school kids." Hermione lifted her chin as a cold chill swept over her, and months of repressed words began to slither out.

"We are not children anymore. The violence will not stop because we're not ready for it. This war started the moment they cast their first Dark Mark into the sky."

Her eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Hermione waited for someone to rebuke her, to call her mad again…but the words never came. Regulus and Sirius were looking at her as if they were seeing Hermione for the first time.

"What is your plan?" asked Regulus quietly. "And how does this involve Snape? And, well, me?"

"I will be part of the Death Eaters as someone who can relay information to our side," Snape replied in a low tone. "Like Regulus, my circumstances were already somewhat compromised before I was approached. I made it pretty obvious how I felt about the Dark Arts and…how I used to feel about muggles."

Sirius made a sound of disbelief, but did not comment. Hermione stepped in.

"The idea, Regulus," said Hermione, "is that, well, since you're being forced into the Death Eaters and don't actually agree with their work, you could do what Severus is. Ideally, you just wouldn't join," Regulus tightened his jaw, which Hermione ignored, "but since that isn't an option with you, I thought maybe this could be best. Severus will be there with you every step of the way too."

Regulus shook his head slowly, a laugh bubbling inside of him. "I really admire you, Hermione. Honestly, I do. We just barely tolerate each other, but you're probably the only Gryffindor student I admire. But you're—you're forgetting something," Regulus actually laughed a little. "I don't think you fully understand what Snape and I will be doing as Death Eaters. Do you really understand? If you want us to be spies, we have to be utterly convincing. The Dark Lord can read minds, they say, and me—I'm a bloody open book! He'll see right through me. And the things I will have to do…the things I've already done…" Regulus shook his head violently. "No, you don't understand. It's like Sirius said, this isn't a game. I'm—I'm going to have to do things, unspeakable things!"

"You are also choosing this life!" Sirius nearly shouted. "Hermione is trying to suggest to you, instead of wasting away there like you already plan to, you could help us."

Regulus deflated and looked down at his hands. Hermione frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Regulus…what did you mean by 'the things I've already done'? You don't—you don't mean—?"

Regulus lifted his head and his expression was raw with agony. His eyes slightly red, he croaked brokenly, "I did something terrible, brother."

Sirius went still. His eyes went wide and he reached over to grip Regulus's wrist.

"You—you weren't involved in what happened a few weeks ago, were you?..."

Hermione averted her eyes at what she saw. It was as if something finally fractured inside Regulus and he was doubling over, hands sliding into his black hair and curling into fists. Hermione looked frightfully at Sirius, who was looking at Regulus blankly.

"I didn't—I didn't do much," Regulus mumbled as he slid his hands down to rub his eyes. "I wasn't really involved, since I'm not initiated yet, but…I saw what they were doing…I saw and heard things, and I did nothing to stop it…I stood there, horrified, terrified, with my mouth shut and my wand at the ready. Is this what my life is going to be from now on? Am I going to be the one terrorizing these people? Will I be the last thing somebody sees?"

"Stop," said Sirius fiercely. He leaned over and grabbed Regulus by the chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes were dry but red, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Now that Hermione thought of it, that was probably close to the truth. "If you keep your head down, and listen to what Snape and Hermione here have to say, that will never happen. Understand? Never."

"He's right," Hermione nodded gently. "You have to trust us, Regulus. And you're forgetting you still have three more years at Hogwarts. You'll be free from any real duties throughout the school terms."

Regulus breathed deeply and scrubbed the side of his face. "I still don't understand how you're planning on dismantling the Death Eaters movement. Have you even told any adults about this, at least?"

Hermione cleared her throat sheepishly. "Well, no. But I probably will have to soon. I'm not exactly sure yet. As for what I plan to do to take it down, let me worry about that. It's, well, it's why I've been asking and doing a lot of the things I was doing this year." Her eyes flickered to Sirius's meaningfully, who narrowed his eyes questioningly. "I'll tell you the details later. I don't think it's safer to discuss all of our plans here out in the open…"

Hermione glanced around and was surprised no one was paying them any heed. The bakery was quite crowded as it was, but Hermione was certain it was because it was the only store on the block that had air conditioning.

"I think the point of this," Sirius began quietly, "is to make sure you know that you don't have to do this alone. You did the right thing when you sent those letters, Reg. No matter what shite we've had between us these past four years, you're still my family. And…well, now that I know what's actually going on in that head of yours…" Sirius grunted awkwardly. "Anyway, it'll be alright. Okay? You'll be fine so long as you stick with us."

"Keep in touch with Severus," Hermione ordered. "You'll need him the most if you want to survive this ordeal. You're lucky you're both in the same house."

"Lucky," Regulus snorted bitterly. "Yeah, that's what I am…lucky Regulus Black…"

Hermione glanced around. "It's best we leave now. It's getting late."

Severus and Regulus got up first, and Sirius and Hermione slid out of their booth after them. The sun was just about to dip behind the horizon, still giving streams of evening rays of light down the streets. Severus and Regulus disappeared down one of the streets quickly. Severus said his goodbyes to Hermione before leaving; Regulus simply walked away as fast as he could.

Sirius and Hermione began to walk the long trek back home. She glanced furtively at Sirius, observing that his brow was furrowed in deep thought.

"Bee in your bonnet?" she attempted to lighten the mood. It failed spectacularly.

Sirius shrugged his shoulder lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "Just say it, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head firmly, keeping his eyes averted. Hermione's concern escalated. "I can tell you want to say something. Just tell me."

"I—" Sirius paused as they stopped at the corner of the sidewalk. "Why didn't you tell us from the beginning, Hermione? I'm…how did Snape know this was what you were doing before us?"

Hermione nodded, keeping their eyes locked. "Snape was my first friend. He grew to suspect me like you did too, but that's where he was different from you—he trusted me. And he also earned my trust."

Sirius looked at her as if she'd knocked the wind out of him. Hermione broke their gaze and stared off into the distance. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about what I've been planning. It had to be at the right time, when you were ready to know. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah," Sirius exhaled slowly, looking down. "Yeah, I understand. I suppose…I feel like a real asshole now, you know? I was such an asshole. I feel like I tell you this every time we speak to each other. Sirius Black, the Magnificent Asshole."

"Yeah, you were," Hermione agreed with a nod. She smiled lightly. "But you're not anymore. At least, not where it counts."

Sirius smiled back sheepishly, and they resumed walking. "So does that mean you trust me a little bit more now?"

"What, telling you my diabolical plans wasn't proof enough?"

xxx

"We are old maids. We are literally old maids. Every time you spend a day with Hermione you come back and report to us all the gossip," said James in a mildly revolted tone.

"This isn't gossip; this is actually serious stuff," Sirius exclaimed.

Remus shook his head. "James is right, mate. Last time we discussed something like this, I ended up not really talking to Hermione for months. I'm not about to do that without hearing what she has to say first."

"Agreed," Peter piped in.

"I can literally pull her in here and have her tell you this herself," said Sirius exasperatedly.

"Well go on," James arched an eyebrow.

Sirius sighed and stood up, striding out of James's room. He knocked twice on Hermione's bedroom door.

"Come in."

Sirius poked his head in her room. "Remus and Peter are here. Wanna fill them and James in on what happened today?"

Hermione blinked. "Er, yeah, sure? Wait, why are they here? Why didn't you tell me they came!"

Sirius waved away her questions. "Too much work. Just come by, won't you? I think they're—how do I put this mildly—'tired of my shit'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him back to James's room. The next hour was absolute chaos, and it made Hermione very grateful that she didn't tell them everything about her existence, like Snape had encouraged for her to do yesterday.

"Hermione have you gone mad?"

"Have you told anybody else?"

"Snape apparently knew—"

"—And your brother too, now—"

"Hermione—my sweet sister Hermione—surely there's a method to this madness, right? You're not—I mean to say…if this is about revenge…" He was cut off with a hard punch to the arm.

"Shut up, James."

Hermione rubbed her temples. She could feel the headache coming already, and she'd be damned if she let this tirade continue. "Your concern is really, really very kind. Honestly, it warms my heart to hear this. But I know what I'm doing, alright? If you know anything about me, it's that I don't do anything without thinking it through."

"How can you possibly achieve this alone?" asked Remus, stricken. "Merlin, you haven't even told an adult…this is so reckless, even for you."

"Pardon?"

"What he means is that you're going about this entirely the wrong way," Peter explained gently. "Going one-on-one against You-Know-Who and his followers is just asking to be targeted, Hermione. You need to think this through."

"You don't understand," Hermione shook her head. "And it's okay that you don't. But like James said, there is a method to my madness. I…can't really tell you any of the details right now. It's safest that way. But you have to promise to keep this to yourself, and you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"We already can and will," said James impatiently. "It doesn't stop us from worrying. This is—I'm sorry Hermione, but this is all wrong. You shouldn't be doing this."

Hermione scowled. "This is…this is rich coming from a bunch of rule breakers, don't you think? Where's your sense of adventure and—and justice?"

"If we get caught we get detention," James emphasized. "If you get caught you'll be murdered! Don't you understand just how dangerous this is?"

"We're living in a dangerous world," Sirius replied quietly. "We're at danger every time we step foot outside the door. If we don't start fighting back now, things will only get worse."

Hermione looked at Sirius, shocked that he had come to her defense. He folded his arms and shrugged.

"Someone needs to at least know that Snape and Regulus are going to be working for the good side," Peter mentioned concernedly.

"Dumbledore?" Remus suggested.

"After they're initiated," said Sirius firmly. "Once the school year starts. I have to agree with them on this, Hermione. Somebody other than a bunch of teenagers has to know. People who have positions of power and knowledge that we can trust."

"Fine," Hermione reluctantly agreed. Dumbledore was going to know about Snape being a Death Eater in the future anyway. There was no harm in speeding it up. But how on earth she was going to bring it up, Hermione didn't have the foggiest.

"Blimey, it's almost time, isn't it?" James looked at his watch. "Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes, grinning. "You just want to start early, don't you."

"I feel stifled in this human body, Moony."

"Am I missing something?" Hermione asked unsurely. The four boys froze, exchanging glances in a silent conversation. Remus nodded, and James sighed. He walked up to Hermione and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Hermione, there's something you should know."

Hermione raised her brows.

"I'm a stag."

"You're a…"

"Stag. Deer. Spirit of the forest. Protector of the wood."

"What the idiot is trying to say is that he's an animagus," said Remus wryly. "We all are, except me of course."

"Since you trusted us with a pretty big secret, it seemed about time to tell you about this one," said Peter, somewhat abashed. Hermione nodded impressively. So they figured it out how to transform already? She felt everybody staring at her, as if waiting for some reaction—right, right, she wasn't supposed to already know they were animagi, was she?

Hermione widened her eyes in shock and gasped lightly. "You—wait, are you registered? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to try being animagi on your own?" Perfect.

"Sounds like a familiar argument, doesn't it Sirius?"

"That it does, James."

"Interesting."

"I'm serious," Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What made you want to be animagi anyway?"

"Well," James sauntered over and slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders, and they sat down together on James's bed. "We've known from the beginning about Remus's, ah…furry little problem."

Peter snorted and Remus rolled his eyes.

"So naturally, we wanted to be there with him to help," James continued conversationally. "Granted, our methods were a little more extracurricular and frowned upon—"

"Illegal," Hermione corrected.

"Sure, sure. We did it to help our best friend. And revealing what we've done already isn't going to help anyone, is it?"

"I suppose not," Hermione admitted. "Hang on. Is that why all of you are here? It's the full moon tonight, isn't it?"

"Clever and deductive," James smiled. "Yes. And don't say you want to come along, because it's too dangerous even for us. You aren't an animagi."

Yet, Hermione thought to herself. She shrugged. "I wasn't planning on asking anyway. I have plans."

"What plans?" asked Remus curiously. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

Sirius knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Who would be coming here at eight o'clock?"

Hermione smiled mysteriously as her gaze passed over James, lingering on him for a moment before standing up and wordlessly leaving the room. James watched her leave with a dumbstruck expression.

"What did that mean?"

"I dunno, James, but I think we should follow her," Sirius crept towards the door, and the rest of them followed suit. Walking slowly down the staircase, the four marauders were greeted with an open front door and a brilliant flash of red hair.

"E-Evans?" James spluttered.

Lily smiled serenely. "Potter." She looked up at the rest of the boys and smiled again. "Are you leaving already?"

"We're going back to my house," Remus lied, which Hermione presumed was the excuse he'd also given to Mr. and Mrs. Potter. "Sleepover, you see."

"We could stay for a little while, though, couldn't we?" James rounded on Remus with wide eyes that both threatened and pleaded.

"Mate, look at the time," Sirius pointed to his watch. Hermione tried not to laugh when she saw James visibly deflate.

"Right, yes, it's actually time to go now," James muttered morosely, resigned at the turn of events. "We ought to leave, then…hang on, Lily, you didn't walk all the way here, did you?"

Lily blinked at the sudden concern in James's tone. "No, of course not. My parents drove me here. I'm having a sleepover with Hermione."

James nodded slowly. "Alright. See you later then, Evans." He smiled and turned to the door, walking outside into the setting sun. The rest of the marauders filed out with their goodbyes, and the door closed behind them.

"I wonder why they couldn't just have their sleepover here," Lily noted thoughtfully.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe Remus's house is more interesting."

Lily smiled slyly. "You didn't tell them I was coming, did you?"

Hermione shook her head, suppressing a smile. "They didn't ask."

"Cheeky. Let's go upstairs."

"Do you want some dinner? The house-elves would be pleased to make you something."

"You—you have house-elves?"

Hermione turned slightly pink. "Well, not me really, but…the Potters do. I was surprised too when I came here…erm, they're really very friendly, though, if you want to stop by the kitchens?"

"Okay," Lily beamed. "I've never met one in person before."

"They're amazing," Hermione and Lily walked down to where the kitchens were, and saw a dozen little house-elves scrubbing several large pots and pans vigorously.

"Miss Hermione!" they squeaked in unison.

"She brings a friend!"

"Everyone, this is my good friend Lily Evans," Hermione introduced, and Lily waved cheerfully.

"It's nice to meet you all. Hermione was just telling me how amazing you are."

There was a loud uproar, which was strange because it looked as if all the house-elves were about to faint. They gathered around Hermione and Lily and asked if they wanted more supper, and promptly ignored any refusal and made them a hot meal anyway. Hermione and Lily left the kitchens with arms full of food, and headed up the stairs.

"They're nothing yet exactly like what I imagined," said Lily breathlessly, placing the plates of food onto Hermione's desk. "It makes you wonder, doesn't it though? Like…I dunno, do some have wages for their work?"

"Technically they're not allowed to have wages, and if you try to give them any then it's considered the highest mark of insult to the house-elves," Hermione replied sadly. "You know, when I was at my other school, and I learned about house-elves, I made an organization to try to promote equal rights and welfare for them." She smiled sheepishly. "It didn't work out the way I thought it would…but I still think there is a lot of work to be done. Not just for them, but for all magical creatures. After the years I've had, with the professors I've had," her mind flitted to Umbridge, and she boiled internally with anger, "I know it's something I'd like to focus on after school. If I get that far."

"What do you mean, 'if'? Of course you'll get that far," Lily said firmly, clasping Hermione's hand comfortingly. "I know these past few weeks haven't been very good, and after what happened last summer…" Lily trailed, her eyes brimming with emotion. She shook her head violently as a fiery spirit roared inside her, and she looked at Hermione with determination. "You'll be just fine, Hermione Granger. You're already top of your class—well nearly, anyway," Lily grinned at Hermione's scoff.

"Nearly? Who's the first, then?"

"Me, of course."

"Darling Lily, we know things have changed since I started at Hogwarts."

"Not that much."

Hermione laughed, and she felt lighter and happier than she had in a very long time. "Oh Lily," Hermione sighed quietly, a content smile still lingering on her lips. "You make me very happy."

"Do I?" Lily feigned disinterest but she could see the pleased smile tugging at her mouth.

"Yes. You really do," Hermione answered honestly. "You remind me a lot of my old girlfriends. They were brilliant. And you are too."

Lily tilted her head. "You don't talk about your old friends a lot."

"No?...I hadn't realized," Hermione replied faintly. She shifted uncomfortably and moved to sit on her bed, and Lily sat opposite her. She looked at Hermione patiently.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It's really not that interesting. I had two best friends at the start of my first year. Boys, very annoyingly lovable boys. One of them was Ron, and I became friends with his younger sister Ginny…it was fun," Hermione smiled at the memories that began resurfacing. "I spent a lot of time with her. She had red hair like you too, coincidentally! There was also Lavender, and Parvati…they were a little gossipy, but who isn't at that age? I disliked them sometimes for that, but despite it all they were still loyal friends…and most of all, good people." Hermione looked away wistfully, remembering the foolish anger she'd felt towards Lavender just before the Time-Turner had pulled her into the seventies. How she would give anything to see even her again. "That's all that matters in the end."

"It sounds like you surrounded yourself by very good people," Lily noted with a soft smile. "As for me, I have Alice and Amelia, of course. They're probably the only two I've stayed close friends with since starting here. We did a lot of late night studying and talking for hours…" Lily grinned as she thought about it. "They're so much fun. It reminds me sometimes of me and Petunia when we were children."

"Petunia?"

Lily's eyes grew wide. "I never told you?" Hermione shook her head unsurely. "I have an older sister, Petunia."

"No, I don't think you did," Hermione said vaguely, although already about her. "Do you two not get along anymore?"

Lily snorted. "She can barely stand to look at me." A touch of sadness was in her voice, but she hardened herself and shrugged. "It's been this way for years, though. It's probably why I forgot to mention her to you; we just don't get along like we used to. She's a muggle, you know? I think that's why she resents me…"

"For not being a witch?"

"Sort of? If she was given the chance to go to Hogwarts right now, I doubt she would. Every time she mentions me and my schoolmates, she calls us freaks."

Hermione's mouth tightened into a thin line. She knew Harry's family was as unsupportive as it could get during his childhood, but seeing this insight first hand…knowing what Harry's aunt had been like even before he was born…he really hadn't stood a chance.

"And what about your parents?" Hermione inquired.

At this, Lily brightened instantly. "Merlin, I love them. They're muggles, so they get a kick out of everything I tell them about my studies and school life."

"Mine did too!" Hermione said excitedly. "My parents were dentists, and they couldn't wrap their heads around the idea that a few spells could replace their line of work in the Wizarding world."

"Mine are accountants, and I showed them my Arithmancy book in my third year and I swear my mum almost fainted. She was so excited."

"That's really interesting," Hermione mused, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "Do you know how fascinating it would be if a muggle mixed modern knowledge with witchcraft? You and I already know how to since we grew up in muggle homes, but imagine! What if a muggle took their financial knowledge and use Arithmancy principles? What if a doctor interwove modern medicine and science with magic?"

"Hermione, that's basically what the wizarding world already does," Lily replied with a humorous smile.

"I know I know, but—well, I dunno where I'm getting at. But it's really cool that your parents are actively interested in magic to the extent of reading your textbooks…doesn't that just mean that not all muggles would react horrifically if they found out about magic?"

"I suppose it would," Lily nodded slowly. "You know, you should really come and meet them. They'd love to see you, especially if you speak to them about this stuff."

"They're picking you up tomorrow morning, right?" Hermione asked. "Maybe I could pop by and say hello?"

"Absolutely. And then later you're coming to my house."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, alright, don't worry. I'll come to your house this summer."

"Good. Now let's dig in already, shall we?"

xxx

Hermione did not know at what time James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius returned home, but she knew they did once she woke up the next morning.

Lily was nowhere in sight. Hermione yawned and stumbled out of bed, uncaring of the status of her hair (which currently closely resembled pygmypuff fur), and glanced across the hallway. Both Sirius and James's doors were ajar, and from the lack of noise and frequent snoring, she knew they were empty.

Padding down the stairs, Hermione rubbed her eyes as she entered the living room. Peter was the only one sitting on a sofa, a book in hand.

"Good morning, Peter," Hermione greeted.

Peter glanced up and smiled. "Morning, Hermione!"

"Had a nice, er, night?"

Peter nodded vigorously. "Very fun. Tiring, but fun."

"Uh huh. Could you tell me where everyone else is?"

"Remus is still upstairs sleeping…oh and the Potters haven't come down yet, and the rest are…in the kitchens."

Hermione frowned. "What? Why?"

"James and Lily are—well, and Sirius is there to witness it, and I thought it better if I stayed here, too crowded in there—"

"You're not making any sense."

Peter gave a sheepish look. "I think it's best if you saw it for yourself."

Hermione blinked, then rounded towards the kitchens. Opening the doors, she let out a small scream.

James was desperately trying to put out a very tall tower of flames using the lid of a pot, while house-elves ran wildly around him, wailing and shouting. Lily had her head in her hands as if consumed by a massive migraine, and Sirius was leaning against the kitchen wall, observing with a contented smile.

"What the hell is going on in here!" Hermione shrieked.

"Master James won't let us help!" a house-elf cried, wringing her hands desperately. "He is making a mess in our kitchens, miss! He won't let us help!"

Hermione marched towards James and yanked him away from the stove. "James for the love of god let these good elves put out the damned fire!"

Immediately three elves jumped up and extinguished the fire within seconds. What remained was a very large pan with a pile of ash inside.

"Can somebody explain this, please?"

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, her face edged with anger. "Potter here thought it a good idea to forcefully take the kitchen and used his privilege as a master of the house to command the house-elves not to interfere, no matter what disaster falls to the kitchen."

"I was giving them a small break," James added hastily, wiping his forehead and leaving a trail of char across his skin. His glasses were askew and his hair more wild and untamed than she'd ever seen it before. "I just wanted to try my hand at cooking, is all."

"Is all? Is that really the only reason?" Hermione prompted, eyeing him questioningly.

James stiffened. "Yes."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm going back to the living room." She looked at the house-elves kindly. "I'm sorry about all this."

The moment she was gone, James cursed and raked both hands into his hair.

Hermione shook her head. "Seriously? You had to do this today?"

"I wasn't—I swear I wasn't trying to be smart," James said dully. "I…" he sighed. "I'm gonna head back upstairs. Sorry 'bout the mess," he mumbled, earning him several gentle words from the house-elves.

Sirius and Hermione were left in the kitchen. Sirius moved away from the wall and stretched his arms above his head. "Before you start," Sirius began, "the fire only started seconds before you came in. Otherwise, it was a controlled chaos."

"Nice of you to just stand there."

"I had to make sure I was preserving every second in my memory for when I get a pensieve," said Sirius innocently.

"You're all idiots."

By the time everyone was gathered together again, Remus was finally sitting sleepily on the sofa, and Lily was, surprisingly, sitting next to James and having a brief but civilized conversation with him. Sirius smirked and followed Hermione to breakfast.

Dorea was already seated at the table, a pile of letters in front of her. "You're in luck," she smiled. "Your O.W.L. results have come in."

Any cheer that was in the room drained instantly. Remus looked even more ill than he already was (which was saying a lot); Peter let out a startled noise and brought his nails to his mouth nervously. James and Sirius had equally cool yet utterly terrified looks, and Lily was gripping the wooden chair to the table so hard her knuckles were turning white. One by one Dorea handed the letters out, and after a few tense moments, they all began tearing through them.

There were both shouts of excitement and groans. "Nearly all O's," James sighed in relief. "Sirius, let me see…blimey, we have the same scores!"

"I told you there was no need to study," Sirius shrugged boredly.

"This is awful," Remus said in a dull voice. James walked to stand next to him and peered at the piece of parchment in Remus's hands.

"You have one more Outstanding than us, Remus."

"I missed two," he moaned, shoving the letter back into its envelope. "Mum will be furious."

James's expression faltered, and he clapped Remus's back encouragingly. "She's an idiot if she gets angry at those results. You did really well."

"Yeah, I got one less than both Sirius and James," Peter added helpfully. "How did you two do?"

Lily shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I don't know. It's alright. I only got one E."

James's jaw dropped. "And the rest are O's?"

Lily smiled secretively.

"What about yours, Hermione?" asked Sirius.

Hermione looked down at her own paper. "Straight O's," she said in disbelief. "But…last time I…" Clamping her mouth shut, Hermione stared at the small 'O' printed next to Defense Against the Dark Arts. What had changed? Did she really learn more since then? It felt wrong, somehow…like she had a one-up on everything…but was that really her fault? This was the way it had to be, wasn't it?

And yet, despite having taken these exams already, Hermione swelled with unbidden pride at having achieved the goal she had wanted when she was a proper fifth year.

"There's another letter for you, Hermione," Dorea handed it to her after pecking her brow and congratulating her. Seeing Severus's name, she immediately ripped it open.

Initiation in two days at the Malfoy Manor. Anything I should know?

Malfoy Manor? Hermione bit her lip in concentration. What could she possible know…?

Oh. Oh.

"Excuse me," she muttered hastily and quickly ran to the staircase. Running to her desk, she grabbed a quill and parchment and began to write furiously.

Try to find a plain black diary. The words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' is written in gold on the front. Not sure where in his house it could be.

Burn this letter.

She sealed the envelope and picked up her wand with unsteady fingers. She was of age. She knew she was, her body was seventeen no matter what time turner she used. Breathing in deeply and gripping her wand firmly, Hermione waved the tip at the letter and whispered a concealing charm.

She paused. Gazing outside the window nervously, she waited for an owl to swoop in and drop a howler on her desk, claiming she broke underage wizarding law.

But no owl came. Hermione waited several minutes, until she was certain that no post from the Ministry would be arriving for her. A victorious smile graced her lips. Finally, she could be free of the fear of performing underage magic!

Tying the letter to her owl, Hermione watched it launch into the air and soar through the cloudy sky. If all went well, another horcrux would be in her possession by the end of the week.

 

Notes:

Hello!

Now before I hear the angry accusations, I will say that this sort of proves my repeated stance that I'm never abandoning this fic. An update!

Sorry for the ridiculous wait, there really is no excuse except school and my muse, both which have been rectified. I've successfully completed my 3rd year of college! Remember at the start of this fanfic when I was about to enter it? Ah, sentiment.

This chapter is the longest yet I think, and there's more to come this summer. The goal is to have Sands of Destiny finished completely by August, because honestly it's about time I updated regularly and finally complete this fic.

Thank you to ALL of your reviews and support and kindness! I have tried and failed to respond to everyone's reviews on the last chapter, but I will still continue to try. The response has been overwhelming, I don't think I quite deserve it. But thank you for being amazing, and there is no fandom as amazing as Harry Potter's, and the amount of love this ship has gotten in my fic is...unbelievable. I love you all and hope you all have wonderful summer.

As for the story: expect horcrux things. Expect it all the time.

Lastly, a massive Thank You to my amazing friend Hinatas for beta'ing this chapter for me! Without her, I don't think this chapter would have been tolerable. I owe her so much.

Until chapter 15! xx

Chapter 15: The Diary

Chapter 15

The Diary

Severus Snape was many things, and coward was once one of them.

Water dripped from the ends of his hair to his bare shoulders as he stared at his wardrobe. It was sparse with dust collecting at the bottom, the wood chipping dangerously along the surface. His fingers brushed across the fabrics and frowned at the cheap, patched texture. Most of these didn't originally belong to him, and some of them he had tried to mend himself with no luck. But it would have to do.

Severus wasn't brave. He wasn't memorable. He disliked most things and liked even less people; but somehow, in just one year, he had changed—and suddenly Severus was starting to be some of those things.

Snatching the darkest shirt and coat he could find, he shrugged them on and stared down at himself. They were shabby, but they would do. There were no mirrors in his room and he didn't care enough to go to the bathroom and see for himself.

He glanced at the clock. Still time.

Severus retreated to his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Everything was so detestable—the walls, the cupboard, the bed, the air. It wasn't filthy, but it was as close as it could get to it. It was why nobody knew (except Lily, of course) where he lived or why he never allowed any friends—the few he had—to come over during the holidays. No one needed to see this part of his life.

Severus looked at his nightstand and saw the rolled piece of parchment that'd been delivered to him yesterday. Hermione had instructed him to burn it, and Severus had full intentions to—just not yet. His eyes roved over the small, neat handwriting as he delicately picked it up.

What was it about her that made him befriend her so quickly? At first he thought it was because of Lily—she was the one who had introduced them on their first day of fifth year, after all. But Lily had introduced him to her all her other friends, and Severus just barely tolerated them (and learned the hard way not to refer to them as 'those air-headed ninnies' whilst in Lily's company). This was different. She was different. And though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he was glad of it.

His heart lurched when he heard a loud thud and muffled shouting downstairs, and his eyes narrowed at the instinctual anxiety that filled him whenever his parents argued. Normally this would be the part where Severus would be filled instantly with repressed rage, but the feeling didn't come. After all these years, all that remained in him was disquiet.

His mother was shouting in earnest now, and Severus sighed. Crushing the parchment tightly in his fist, Severus sauntered to the bathroom and pulled out a muggle lighter his father had given him for Christmas. Holding the flame against the edge of the parchment, he dropped it into the rubbish bin and watched as the orange tendrils of smoke curled and bent around the paper, until all that remained was a pile of ash.

He walked down the stairs quickly and headed to the door. "And where the hell do you think you're going?" he heard his father sneer. Severus did not bother glancing behind him.

"Somewhere where your stupidity can't touch me," he muttered.

A hand gripped his shoulder and whirled him around, forcing Severus to look at him. "Give me any more cheek and you'll have a red one for the rest of your holiday."

"Leave him alone, Tobias," Severus's mother pulled Snape away from his father. She looked him up and down to make sure he wasn't hurt. "Off you go."

Severus pressed his lips together and fought off the disappointment when his mother turned away from him and went into the kitchen. Not wanting to be further berated by his father, Severus squashed down any lingering disappointment and left the house.

Spinner's End was a small street in Cokeworth, and coincidentally it was a two minute walk to Lily Evans's house from his. It was how they met each other, after all, but as he walked past the muggle residence today, he didn't feel the usual rush of warmth; instead he felt cold, as if a bucket of ice had been dumped down his head. They were more or less on speaking terms now, but he…did not know how she would react once she found out he'd gone and joined the Death Eaters. He was certain he did not want to know.

Could he really pull this off? Could he really, earnestly, fool a deadly organization into believing he was on their side? He'd meant every word when he told Hermione he would join the Death Eaters to help her bring down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but the closer he came to upholding that decision, the less certain he was that he was truly capable of it. And now, with Regulus relying on his help as well…

Severus shook his head. There was no room for second thoughts.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stopped at the bus station and began his journey to London.

xxx

"James, you really don't have to escort me," said Hermione, but knew it was to deaf ears. James was practically bouncing with every step, smiling cheerfully at any muggle that would look in his direction.

"Well actually I do. You heard Mum and Dad—there's no way you're walking all the way to Cokeworth of all places by yourself."

"I wasn't planning on walking," said Hermione, exasperated. "I would've taken a bus. But then you walked right past it and rambled off about healthy walks and quidditch."

"I don't want to lose my shape during the summer months," James said darkly, then continued to stare at the road ahead. Hermione sighed, knowing a losing argument when she saw one.

In truth, Hermione did not mind very much that James was accompanying her to Lily's house. What did concern her was what James planned on doing once they arrived. "So, are you going to walk all the way back home once we get there, then?"

"'Course."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You do realize that no one is safe alone, right? It's not just a sexist forethought—yes, I said it, don't look so surprised—your mum and dad will be equally angry with you when they see you've walked home from Cokeworth by yourself."

James shrugged. "Then I'll try the muggle bus system. Do you have some coins on you by chance?"

"Yes, I do…"

"Then we're set!" James flashed her a good-natured smile. At her troubled expression, he looped his arm around her gently. "It's alright, Hermione. Really."

Hermione smiled slightly, if not a little fretfully. Even without the worry of James's safety, there was something else entirely that was eating her mind…and it partly involved her trip to Lily's house.

When she promised Lily that she would come over to her house this summer, she knew she would honor it. And at Lily's enthusiastic owl that her sister was leaving for the weekend for a summer academic competition in the country, Hermione sought her chance.

Was it coincidence that she was going to the same town Severus lived in? On the day he was to be initiated? Hermione liked to think so.

But Hermione liking anything never changed the truth.

Because the truth was, Hermione was terrified. This wasn't just her anymore. She was not alone anymore, finding horcruxes by herself and keeping her promise to end Voldemort before he could destroy everyone she loved. She involved others. Severus willingly involved himself, to the point of joining the Death Eaters and finding Tom Riddle's Diary, if he could.

What was terrifying her most was the prospect of their plan completely falling through. Voldemort did not achieve the title 'most dangerous wizard of all time' without reason. Voldemort in the flesh was much more dangerous than any horcrux she'd pick up. Voldemort living, breathing, and watching during the initiation…Voldemort burning the tattoo in Severus and Regulus's forearms permanently…Voldemort penetrating their minds to ensure absolute loyalty….

It was a dangerous game to play. Hermione was not ready. But Hermione did not believe anyone could ever be ready to face grievous uncertainty—to face death. Hermione could not imagine how strong a wizard would have to be to willingly accept his fate. But, prepared or not, she had to go forward. There really was no going back anymore.

"Here we are," said Hermione, stopping in front of a modest brick house. The houses around them were identical and in neat little rows that reminded Hermione of Harry's description of Privet Drive.

"Ah," said James, his eyes transfixed on the brick home. He shifted his weight, scratching the back of his ears. He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll go then."

He whirled around so quickly that Hermione almost didn't catch his words. "James!" She grabbed a fistful of shirt before he could disappear, and he jerked to a stop. "What are you doing? You can't leave now!"

"You don't need me any further than this," he replied nonchalantly, but behind the calm exterior she could see he felt differently.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Let's just walk to the door. Then you can leave. Okay?"

Hermione was not entirely sure why she was pushing for him to stay a few minutes longer, but her grip remained firm. James hesitated, then looked back at the house. Reluctantly, he nodded.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, James sauntered behind Hermione as they walked up the front steps to Lily's home. She rang the bell once, and waited.

The door swung open and Lily was suddenly before her, smiling brilliantly and taking a step back to let Hermione inside. "I was starting to think you wouldn't make it."

"We chose to walk," Hermione informed with a sheepish grin.

"Why don't you ask for a house phone? They're dead useful, and much faster than owls."

"Merlin, I wish we could have a phone in the house," Hermione sighed wistfully. "That and a tele."

"Luckily I have both those things," Lily grinned, until her eyes fell on the boy standing quietly on her doorstep. "Potter?"

James looked up quickly and cleared his throat. "Erm," he said lamely. "I was just, er, dropping Hermione. Off. Dropping her off. And she is dropped now. So…I'll be going."

"Hang on," said Lily quickly. "This is actually what I was going to tell you about anyway with the phone and owl thing—as it turns out, my parents will be staying with Petunia overnight for the competition. So I don't have a ride home for you, Hermione. I'm so sorry," Lily looked at Hermione with a deeply apologetic look. "Honestly, I hate to tell these things last minute, but they literally just rang—"

"It's alright," Hermione stopped the onslaught of self-depreciating apologies before they could go further. She glanced at James, who was looking between the two girls unsurely, like a fly caught in particularly troublesome web. Hermione's lips twitched into a smile. "Well, James, I suppose it's a good thing you walked me here anyway. If that's okay with you, Lily."

"Come again?" said James weakly, clearly not following the conversation; or if he was, his mind was far too befuddled to string words together coherently.

"You'll have to stay," Lily told him. Her forehead wrinkled as she looked James up and down, as if sizing up how much aspirin she will require for the next few hours.

If there was a way to look both terrified out of one's wits and pleased beyond measure, James was doing a marvelous impression of it. Dumbstruck and unmoving, James stared unfocusedly between Hermione and Lily. When Hermione cleared her throat, James finally snapped out of his reverie and blinked several times.

"May I come in?" he asked solemnly. Lily seemed surprised at the request, and nodded slowly.

"Obviously. You too, Hermione, come in," Lily stepped backward and turned around, leaving the door wide open for them to enter. James gestured for Hermione to go in first, and then closed the door quietly behind him.

The moment Lily was out of earshot, James gripped her upper arm and whispered in her ear, "I feel very very very very wrong being here right now."

"This wasn't your end goal, then?" Hermione asked innocently. James began to speak, but snapped his mouth shut before words could come out. The resulting wounded look made Hermione sigh. "Well, you'll have to stay regardless. Just…I dunno…don't be a prat and then maybe Lily won't kill until you've at least had dinner."

James nodded furiously and looked as if he were taking mental notes of Hermione's every word.

The living room was quaint and sparse, with a small television box set up in front of a sofa and armchair. James was immediately entranced by the box that shouted noises and moving pictures, shuffling towards it until his head was level to the screen, inspecting every pixelated square.

"What is this?" he breathed, intrigued.

"That would be the latest episode of Doctor Who," said Lily amusedly.

"More specifically, a television," Hermione added.

"This is the thing you were talking about getting a few days ago?" asked James. Hermione nodded. "What does it do?"

"It can tell you the news, the weather, music, and lots of programs on the front screen there at the click of some buttons," Lily explained. She had a strange smile playing on her lips, as if suppressing the urge to grin at James's genuine curiosity. James looked at the box with wonder.

"And these people can talk in it? Like moving pictures, but with voice?"

Both Lily and Hermione nodded. Hermione's eyes slid to Lily's, and they both smiled knowingly. James slowly backed away from the television, his eyes still transfixed on the screen.

"Uh huh. Well, this is very interesting, marvelous…"

After a few more moments of marveling, Lily showed James and Hermione the rest of her house (they had to pause several times for James as he inspected the more elaborate muggle contraptions), until finally retiring in the parlor.

"I had hoped you would get to see my parents at least," said Lily with a sigh. "It was kind of the whole point. Though it's nice to have Petunia away."

Hermione leaned back against the sofa and shrugged slightly. "I had the chance to see them when they came to pick you up from our house the other day. They seemed very nice."

"Sorry, but who's Petunia?" asked James confusedly.

Lily glanced at him oddly. "My older sister."

James raised a brow in surprise. "I've never heard of her," he said mildly.

"There's nothing really to say about her," Lily said dismissively, and a little too quickly not to be noticed. James tilted his head with a knowing look.

"You don't get along with her."

"She doesn't get along with me," Lily corrected sharply. "I have nothing to do with it. I'd happily talk to her more if she wouldn't—" Lily stopped abruptly, casting a wary eye at James. "What do you care, anyway? It has nothing to do with you."

"Ah, no, it doesn't," James conceded, settling more in the sofa as his hand instinctively went up to tangle in his hair. "I apologize at my attempt of small talk."

Lily pursed her lips and looked away, traces of embarrassment and resignation in her demeanor. Hermione sighed. While it was absolutely amazing to see her best friend's parents at their budding stages of friendship, it was equally exhausting.

Hermione's gaze traveled idly to the open window, and promptly froze. Across the parlor's window and hidden behind a curtain of slick, black hair, walked Severus Snape with his head bent down. Her heart jumped in her throat when he lifted his head briefly, as if it was something he instinctually did every time he passed by Lily's house, and locked eyes with Hermione. He stumbled slightly as his eyes went wide in shock, not anticipating to see Hermione at Lily's home—or anywhere near his for that matter.

"I'm going to get some air, do you mind?" Hermione jumped to her feet, surprising Lily and James.

"Do you want me to come with you?" asked James. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"I'll be fine. I just need to clear my head a bit, get some fresh air. I'll be back in a minute."

"Yes, of course…" Lily trailed in confusion, watching the brown-haired Gryffindor briskly walk out of the parlor and out of sight.

Hermione's heart was pounding with dread and anticipation as she quietly slipped out of the front door and ran across the lawn. Severus was no longer in sight. She quickly rounded the corner of the next street, her eyes glancing around searchingly until she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and yank her into the shadows.

"What are you doing here?" Severus hissed, standing very close to her.

"I'm—Lily, she invited me," said Hermione breathlessly. Her gaze drifted to his left arm, staring at the long black sleeve of his coat piercingly. "Did you—did they—?" she did not finish, but Severus swallowed and nodded once.

"It's okay, Hermione," Severus reassured softly, his fingers brushing against her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "I'm…alright."

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

"For what?"

"I don't know. I feel like I should be apologizing about this. It's because of me that—"

Severus cut her off. "If you still think this is all for you, you've let this get to your head too much," said Severus slowly. "At the end of the day, this was my choice. And it was Regulus's. Putting the blame on yourself solves very little."

Hermione bit her lip. "How's your forearm?"

Severus stiffened at the unexpected question. "You know about that?"

Hermione nodded. Severus looked down.

"It…stings."

"Liar," Hermione shot back, shaking her head as she glanced at his arm again. "It hurts a lot. I can tell."

"It's manageable," Severus replied smoothly. "And I would think you'd be more interested in what I've got with me than the state of my arm."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"You don't—you don't mean—?"

Severus reached into the folds of his clothes and pulled out a black, aged diary with golden lettering written on the front.

Hermione stepped back, looking up at Severus in awe. "How did you find it?"

"You asked me to look for it, and I did."

"Yes I know, but I didn't think you'd find it so quickly! Did they see you? Where was this? This, oh Merlin…but this is very…this is good…."

Severus held out the book. With trembling fingers, Hermione willed herself to push aside the familiar fear of the horcrux and hold it.

She could feel it immediately, the slight thrumming of the leather, the heavy weight against her skin…it felt as if it could burn through her, and it would only be a matter of time before the whispers and the headaches would begin—

"We have to destroy this," Hermione finally said. "Quickly." She looked at Severus seriously. "I should go back now, they're probably worrying. You're going to tell me everything that happened, Sev. Wait for my owl."

She looked down again at the diary hesitantly.

"Keep it," Severus said quietly. "It'll be safer with you."

He did not mention the strange sensation that took hold of him the moment he held the diary in his hands, nor the sudden relief he felt once Hermione had taken the wretched thing from him. No, he did not think he could handle keeping the diary. He felt terribly guilty at shoving it to Hermione knowing what it would do to her.

What it has already done to her, a voice reminded him, and it took a great amount of self-control not to shudder.

"I'll see you later," said Hermione, and Severus nodded slowly. She quickly sprinted towards the corner of the street and disappeared from sight. After a few moments Severus stepped out of the shadows and slowly began to walk.

His house was silent upon entering. Severus walked up the staircase and into his room, locking the door behind him. His movements began to quicken as he shrugged off the coat and the shirt, wincing in pain as the fabric brushed against the tender flesh of his forearm. His actions grew quicker and more desperate, shucking off his garments until all that remained were his briefs. The white hot pain from the Dark Mark, now engraved under his skin, flared suddenly as he stepped into the bathroom. His frame shook as he lifted his gaze to stare at his reflection.

What he saw shocked him. It was still him; still slick, shabby Severus, tall and gangly with awkwardly hunched shoulders and dark circles under his weary eyes, now branded with a slithering skull and snake—it was him, but something had changed. The boy staring back at him no longer had gaunt, haunted eyes. He was determined. He seemed…free.

Severus's lips twitched into a smile, and the pain in his forearm began to fade.

But where Severus's bravery began to shine, Hermione's nervous disposition returned with the heavy weight of a horcrux under her arm. She entered Lily's house as quietly as she could and immediately headed towards her purse, currently sitting idly by the door. Stuffing the diary quickly inside, Hermione made for the parlor.

Her steps slowed as she approached the doorway. From a distance she could hear them—even the dimmest mountain troll would notice the racket—and it wasn't until James and Lily came into view that Hermione paused.

Arguing, they were always arguing…but something about it this time made Hermione stop. They were acting no differently than they would in front of everybody else, and Lily certainly wasn't going easy on him no matter how many times James tried to charm her, but something was there. Something small, almost imperceptible, butthere. And for now, it was enough.

xxx

In the weeks that passed since the marauders discovered Hermione's plans to overthrow the Death Eaters, something unusual caught Hermione's attention (though upon further inspection, it wasn't very unusual). Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—while Hermione would be reading a book or sitting in the living room, she would catch James looking at her curiously. He'd immediately look elsewhere and ruffle up his hair the moment Hermione would catch his eye, pretending for all the world that nothing had happened.

Though James's strange behavior didn't truly alarm her—especially considering he was always this strange and comical—Sirius's behavior did. It was nothing like how he would usually act around her, and that was saying something considering she'd seen nearly all facets of his temperament; quiet, moody, raucous, accusing, cheerful…but he was none of these during these times. He would look at her sometimes as if wanting to say something, the words just on the tip of his tongue. He would gaze at her distantly as his mouth parted, but every time he would close it and clear his throat, smiling sheepishly and moving on.

Hermione knew something was on his mind, and he desperately wanted to ask her a question. She was certain all the marauders wanted to ask her several questions, but none of them plucked up the courage to do it.

The tenth time she caught Sirius looking at her strangely with that questioning look, Hermione was in the backyard with a large volume of Young Witches Who Rose To Power on her lap. Slamming it shut, Hermione turned to Sirius and scowled.

"What is it, Sirius?" she snapped.

Sirius jumped slightly, bewildered and stammering, "N-nothing, just looking at this magnificent garden around us—"

"Oh come off it. I know you've been wanting to say something for weeks, don't deny it. You and James are terrible at concealment."

Sirius looked like he was going to argue, but wisely stopped at Hermione's glare. "Yes, we're all curious," he ceded reluctantly. "But what they're curious about, you'll have to ask them yourself. I'm not entirely sure."

"What is it that you want to ask me, then?" said Hermione.

Sirius glanced down, gathering his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he looked back up and the intensity in his grey eyes startled her.

"You told us that you were planning on stopping the Death Eaters. It's how you were able to help Reggie when he insisted he couldn't stop from joining them."

"Yes…?" Hermione frowned.

"I want—I think—I meant what I said then, that if we don't stop fighting back now, it will only get worse. Every day people are going missing, Dark Mark or not. I think what you're doing—it's the right thing to do."

He smiled a little, and Hermione smiled hesitantly back. She felt relief at his words, for she hadn't been expecting this to be what Sirius wanted to talk to her about. She'd been almost afraid that Sirius would go back to distrusting her like he had last year, but it didn't seem like that would happen again anymore. He was…growing.

"You don't know how happy that makes me, Sirius," Hermione said honestly. Sirius shifted his hand as if making to grasp hers, but he glanced at her unsurely and let his hand drop, and instead smiled encouragingly.

"James I'm certain still thinks you're barking, but I know he knows you're doing what you think is right," said Sirius with a sigh. "Peter and Remus are worried. I think they're planning an intervention, to be honest."

"No," Hermione groaned, and put the book down onto the grass so she could prop her elbows on her knees and drop her head in her hands. "This is exactly why I held off telling anybody about this."

"Would you rather they didn't care at all?" asked Sirius. "We're your friends. It's natural for us to worry for your safety."

Hermione bit her lip guiltily. "You're right," she said. "They're doing what any friend would do. You're all doing so much more than any normal friend would do."

"That's because we take everything to much higher levels," Sirius chuckled. "Blimey, we became Animagi just so Remus wouldn't feel alone anymore."

Hermione smiled softly. "You love with all your heart, all four of you. You're more like brothers than friends. You would do anything for each other."

"And you're part of that family now," said Sirius quietly. "Which is why I have to ask you something."

Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"This thing—this struggle against Voldemort and his followers—it's not just yours anymore. My brother is involved, and I can't just sit in the sidelines and hope he doesn't get killed someday. I want to be a part of this, Hermione. This is more than you or me, this is something bigger than anything we've faced before."

Hermione looked at him disbelievingly, her mouth parted but no sound coming out. Shaking her head, Hermione managed, "You want to help? To join me?"

"Yes," said Sirius firmly.

Her heart was racing. "And what about James? And Remus, and Peter—"

"I can't tell you what they're thinking. I only know what I want, and that's making sure my brother doesn't die at the hands of a sodding Death Eater. Or worse—doing something he would never forgive himself for."

"I…I don't know what to say," said Hermione weakly. "I'm really happy you feel this way, don't get me wrong. But I told you before that I can't…I can't tell you everything of what I'm doing just yet."

"Why not?" Sirius pressed, his eyes looking through hers searchingly. "You're carrying so many secrets, and for what? Why won't you let someone help you?"

"To keep you safe!" Hermione exclaimed, panic stricken. Against rationality, Hermione was shutting down the idea of telling him everything, she wasn't ready, no, she wasn't ready at all for this. "Don't you remember what they did to my parents? Have you forgotten why the Potters adopted me? This is dangerous, and I only told you because Regulus's life was at risk and I had to help him!"

"So were you never planning to tell anyone else?" said Sirius in disbelief.

"I don't know," said Hermione truthfully. "Sirius, I'm not saying you shouldn't try to help. I just don't know how much I can tell you of what I'm doing just yet. I want you to do what you believe is right too."

Sirius was scowling and looked away. Hermione's insides turned over as she bit her lip. Was she being too stubborn? Was it…was it finally approaching the time where she would have to tell him?

"I will tell you everything," Hermione said quietly. Sirius looked up in surprise. "But not today. Not for a while. You have to respect that, Sirius, or this will never work."

Sirius looked down at his hands once more as they fiddled together idly. "As long as I can help," he replied quietly. "As long as I can keep the people I care about safe. Your secrets are not mine to pry for, anymore." He gazed at her gently. "Just let me fight against those bastards with you."

The honesty and passion in his words took Hermione aback. This conversation had happened between them so many times, and each had ended with Sirius furious at Hermione for steadfastly keeping her secrets well-guarded. It was different now. They were different now, and Hermione finally reached between them and firmly gripped his hand.

"Of course."

Sirius grinned. "Excellent. Quick question, though, because this has been on my mind for weeks—what exactly is your strategy? You don't have to go into detail, but you must have some sort of plan, surely."

A slow smile spread across Hermione's lips. "Have you ever heard of the muggle story of the Trojan Horse?"

xxx

The opportunity never arose for Hermione to leave the house again for the rest of the summer—at least, not by herself. So she went to the last resort.

The Potters, Sirius, and Hermione took the summerly trip to Diagon Alley in late August to prepare for their new school year ("No, James, you cannot have the Chudley Cannons broom set"), and spent the last week of the summer holidays drinking ice cold pumpkin juice in the Potters' backyard while watching James and Sirius attempt to knock each other off their brooms using disgruntled garden gnomes (they were supposed to be de-gnoming the garden but quickly found a much more amusing way to pass the time). It was the night before the first day back to Hogwarts that the plan would proceed.

Hermione waited until well past midnight, when even Sirius's lamp light extinguished. The house was silent save for James's loud snores that could be heard down the hallway (he rarely kept his door closed). Quietly, Hermione rolled out of bed and crouched down.

The trunk was beneath her bed exactly the way she left it last. And even though the book was locked and sealed away tightly inside, charm after charm placed on it to make sure it was hidden, she could feel it. She could feel its blasted heartbeat. She could hear its soul, cold and small though it was, as it whispered unintelligible things in her consciousness. It was just like last time.

One would think that, having already dealt with one of Voldemort's horcruxes in the past, Hermione would be able to handle having another one in her proximity much more calmly and resolutely; but in reality, it was much worse. Hermione didn't think it was possible to be worse, but the feeling—the heavy, burdened feeling pushing against her heart, the familiar headache that only increased as the hours ticked by—was more oppressive and damaging than ever before.

And like before, every night Hermione would sleep with the trunk under her bed and feel the horcrux reverberating against her heart like a steady rhythm of drums.

It was not silent tonight either. Hermione bit her lip as she raised her wand with trembling fingers. Breathing deeply and shaking off her nerves, she began to mutter incantations under her breath as one by one, the charms on the trunk were removed.

When the last charm was lifted, Hermione sat still, frozen, as if waiting for the horcrux to spring to life and transform into Lord Voldemort himself. No such thing happened. Hermione released her breath and slowly unlocked the trunk. Digging to the bottom, her fingers grazed against the leather of the book and grabbed hold of it.

She barely looked at the diary as she stuffed it inside her purse. Rising from her haunches, Hermione stuffed her wand in her pocket and went to her bedroom window. Peering down, she squinted hard until her eyes caught the shadowy figure standing beneath her window. Nodding affirmatively, Hermione stole out of her room.

The hallway was dim and the staircase pitch black, but she feared to use a quick lumos in case it woke anyone up. Charming the stairs so they wouldn't creak, Hermione padded softly down and made for the front door, not noticing that faint lamplight was coming from the dining room.

Just as her fingers brushed the doorknob, she heard, "Hermione?"

Startled with fright, Hermione spun around and raised her wand. Breathing rapidly, she stuttered, "S-Sirius? What are you doing awake?"

"Getting a glass of water," said Sirius slowly, his eyes following her wand to the purse hanging from her shoulder. "Are you going somewhere?"

Shit, she cursed inwardly. Her mind came up with a dozen scenarios and explanations she could give, and none of them were promising. Sirius, however, was quicker to deduce.

"Does this have to do with…?" Again, Hermione seemed to have lost control of her voice. Guilty and speechless, Hermione winced. In a second Sirius was in front of her.

"Have you gone mad?" he whispered fiercely. "It's the middle of the night! It's not safe out, not even in the daylight! Bloody hell, woman—"

"Sirius this is important," Hermione pleaded. "Please, you can't tell anyone, no one was supposed to be awake—"

"Clearly that was your plan," Sirius growled and shook his head. "What happened to keeping me informed? You could've bloody told me you had plans for whatever it is you're going to do!"

"Remember when I mentioned there's certain things I can't tell you just yet because they're so dangerous that knowing it would threaten all of our lives?" Hermione whispered harshly. "Yes, well, this is exactly one of those moments."

Sirius stared at her, fuming silently. "I don't like this. You shouldn't be out there alone."

"I won't be alone," said Hermione impatiently. "Now, please, I need to go before it's too late."

Sirius cursed. Stepping back from her, he waved at the door. "Go. I won't tell anyone, so you can stop looking at me that way. But if you're not here before sunup, there's nothing I can do for you."

"I'll be back earlier than that," Hermione promised. She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm gratefully. "Thank you. I'll be back soon." Quickly and quietly, Hermione stepped out the front door and into the starry night.

The figure that had been beneath her bedroom window emerged silently from the shadows, and Hermione lifted a finger to her lips before he could let a word in. Raising her wand, she silently cast a Disillusionment charm on the both of them. Satisfied, Hermione ushered him along the sidewalk and walked quietly.

They reached a forest some distance away. Severus was the one who'd suggested it, and Hermione, having no other options or ideas where to do this, reluctantly agreed.

"Am I allowed to speak now?" Severus muttered under his breath as they trekked through the trees and shrubbery.

"Obviously," she said. "And surely there must be some other forest to do this, this is far too close to town," Hermione worried her lower lip, flinching whenever she heard a distance noise or a twig snap. The bag hanging against her hip was starting to weigh down heavily, until a thin layer of sweat collected on her forehead and she was struggling to catch her breath.

"It's the only option we have in the time restraint we're being dealt," replied Severus. "Is something the matter?"

"Sirius knows I'm here," Hermione blurted. Severus's mouth dropped open. "I didn't know he was still awake! It doesn't really matter anyway, he's asked to help us with all of this—"

"That idiot is going to help destroy horcruxes?" Severus snorted. "Don't tell me you told him."

"No, of course not," Hermione snapped. "He just wants to help any way he can, especially with Regulus joining the Death Eaters. You can't blame him for wanting to protect his family and friends."

"You'd be surprised."

Hermione scowled. "He's not going to say anything, so come off it already."

Severus glanced at her and furrowed his brows. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said shortly.

"Hermione—"

"I said I'm fine, Severus," she glared at him sharply. Severus frowned, and it annoyed her even more. "That's all anyone's been asking me since I got to this decade. I'm fine. I can handle myself."

Severus looked at her strangely and lowered his eyes briefly to her purse. His stomach churned at what he was about to say, but it had to be done. "Let me hold it until we reach the clearing."

He did not wait for a response as he quickly slid the bag from her shoulder and looped it around his. Hermione's mouth parted in surprise and fury, but she stopped. Instantly a swooping calm overcame her and cleared her thoughts and she blinked, as if stepping out of a fog.

Severus nodded curtly and looked ahead.

"It's coming up," he said softly. "Just beyond that row of trees. We should be safe there."

"I don't know how I feel about this," Hermione said, looking nervous. "The last time I did this I almost destroyed the Shrieking Shack. We're surrounded by trees this time." Hermione shook her head. "This will be be very difficult."

"It will be difficult if you refuse to believe in your abilities," Severus replied smoothly. "You have the power to control it. You told me that the horcrux fights back and fills your head with nonsense, am I right?" Hermione nodded. "Control your mind. I taught you the beginnings of Occlumency, use it. It still applies here."

Hermione frowned. "You're saying I can keep the horcrux out of my mind if I use Occlumency against it?"

Severus nodded slowly. "I didn't realize it until I gave the diary to you. It had been invading my mind as well, and at the time I didn't realize that the most basic form of defense could be used against it."

"Are you using Occlumency against it now?"

Severus nodded again.

"And it's okay?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"The heavy, weighted feeling persists, but my mind is clear and focused. I am keeping it away from my thoughts. By no means is this easy, but it beats the alternative."

Hermione shook her head incredulously. "I…that's brilliant. I don't know why I didn't think of it myself!"

"I daresay you were preoccupied at the time," said Severus delicately.

Hermione shrugged. It was too true.

"We're here," Severus said. They stepped into a clearing and walked to the center. Trees surrounded them like a large wooden cage, the crickets going silent as they trekked through the overgrown grass. They stopped once they reached the center of the clearing, and Hermione reluctantly turned to Severus.

Severus breathed in deeply and carefully removed the purse strap from his shoulder, then extended his hand towards her.

"It's best if you took off the wards yourself."

Hermione took the purse quickly. "Right, you're not of age yet. Right..." Hermione took out her wand and lifted it in the air, pointing the tip at the purse, and slowly began to lift the various protective spells on the small bag. She lowered her wand and glanced up at Severus. He was watching her passively, but from the slight shake in his frame, Hermione knew he was as terrified inside as she was.

She lifted her chin and looked at the bag. "Okay. Okay…" Pursing her lips together, Hermione began to reach inside before halting suddenly. "Take your wand out and be ready. The priority is the horcrux. Not me. Do you understand?"

Severus swallowed hard, his eyes wide, and nodded quickly. He was taken aback by her sudden serious tone, but he knew this was extremely important; because for Hermione, this was her purpose—her entire existence in this decade was dependent on her success in bringing Voldemort down. And he would not do her the dishonor of not taking her word seriously.

"You will be performing fiendfyre as well its counter spell, correct?" Severus asked suddenly.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Would it not be wise for you to show me at least the basics of the counter spell? In case something happens to you, we should still have a way to put the fire out."

Severus did not expect for her to roll her eyes and groan.

"I can't," Hermione sighed. Severus raised an eyebrow, and Hermione shook her head. "It's not what you think. If I could tell you, I would. But Scabior made me swear an oath that I wasn't allowed to reveal how to do the spell to any living person—an idiotic oath, truth be told, but since I don't have the means of properly telling you right now, I have to make do."

"What do you mean 'properly tell me'? Hermione, you made an oath!" Severus exploded, his lips curling with distaste. "And with that bloody oaf of all people. What were you thinking?" Hermione gave him a withering glare.

"I was thinking that I needed to learn how to dispel fiendfyre to destroy a horcrux, and I did whatever it took to learn it!" Hermione said heatedly. "And yes, I can still properly tell you. I'm not a complete idiot—I made sure there was a way around the oath."

"Which you can't do right now."

"Yes."

"Bloody useful clause," Severus hissed, and Hermione threw the purse to the ground angrily.

"I'm trying my best, Snape. I don't need another person to remind me how poorly I'm doing my job!" Hermione shrieked.

Severus snapped his mouth shut. "I—" he started, looking confused. He stepped back warily, his eyes shifting until they landed on the purse lying forgotten on the forest floor. "I don't—I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. I know you're trying very hard."

Hermione's nostrils flared as she struggled to calm her breathing. "Thank you," she said finally. Looking away, she regained her composure and shook her head. "This is so different from last time," she said quietly. "It's affecting both of us in proximity. It only used to affect me without even any contact. This…will be a harder horcrux to kill."

"Clearly my Occlumency plan wasn't as foolproof as I believed," said Severus dully, his grip loosening on his wand. "It already got to me."

"This is a power beyond your knowledge, Sev," Hermione said patiently, all anger now forgotten. "You can't expect to know how to handle it immediately. We'll keep trying. For now, let's just—let's do this."

Severus nodded tersely. Raising his wand at the ready again, he watched as Hermione slowly crouched down and opened the purse. Severus gritted his teeth; he could feel its darkness and malice and poison surrounding him already. Cold fear clamped around his heart. Hermione's hand disappeared inside the bag, and an irrational thought of large, pointed fangs sinking into her skin like the Monster Book of Monsters filled his mind, but he brushed the thought away.

The book was smooth and silent as she withdrew her hand from the purse. Hermione paused to glance up at Severus, and he nodded encouragingly. She bit her lip, and set the book on the grass and slung the purse over her shoulder.

"You can leave if you want," Hermione said suddenly, her eyes bright with fear. "Merlin, this is—this is far too dangerous, you shouldn't be involved in this mess. Just get out of these woods. You'll be safer that way."

"Are you mad?" said Severus incredulously. "I'm doing this of my own free will. I am not going to run away like a—like a bloody coward. I chose this, I chose to help. You're stuck with me."

His words were said with strong conviction, and it surprised the both of them. Eyes wide, Hermione nodded once and swallowed. Severus tightened his fingers around his wand. She rose up and pointed her wand steadily at the diary.

"Aperio."

The diary flipped open to a blank page in the middle, and the effect was immediate. Severus was nearly hurtled back from the impact; wind was spiraling around them and catching debris and twigs, their eyes streaming as a foul voice reverberated against the trees. The horcrux must have known they were intending to kill it—Severus had opened it himself after finding it in Malfoy Manor, and he did not encounter this whirlpool of death.

Severus couldn't catch most of what was going on—the roaring of the wind and the debris that was quickly leaving scratches on his face were distracting him—but when his eyes opened enough to see what was happening, what he saw he knew he would never forget.

Hermione was on her knees staring up at the middle of the wind tunnel. A figure was emerging from the diary in wispy, silvery swirls like a puff of smoke, materializing into an opaque young man. From behind Severus could not see his face, but knew that whoever he was, it was not the first time Hermione was seeing him. His words were soft and melodic, almost gentle, and it lulled wind around them like a trance. Suddenly Hermione's expression twisted in fury and she shouted something Severus could not catch. Immediately the wind amplified astronomically around them and it finally knocked Severus to the ground flat on his back. The soft voice was now roaring and hissing, the silvery figure of a boy now changing into something larger, shifting from image to image that Severus couldn't understand.

Cast the spell, Severus pleaded in his mind. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as the air whipping around him stole his breath. He looked at Hermione and she seemed acres away even though she was just a few feet across from him. She was still and shaking, her eyes wide and frozen with fear.

Severus found the strength to lurch himself on his chest and crawled desperately towards her, fighting the horcrux's poisonous words and clearing the awful visions in his mind. He reached her side and grasped her fingers, but she did not look away from the horcrux's projections. Whatever this was, it was much more terrifying and damaging than the previous horcrux she'd destroyed.

"Her-mione," Severus choked out. Hermione did not even blink. "The spell…Hermione…the spell…."

She would not respond. Whatever part of her that had control over the horcrux was now gone. Closing his eyes, Severus used his last resort: launching his mind into hers. What he saw there…Severus wished he could look away, but instead he mentally skipped past the horrors being projected in her mind by the horcrux and searched for Hermione's consciousness.

Don't listen to it, Severus ordered. It's wrong. What it's telling you is wrong. You must not give in! He could feel her uncertainty and her despair, and he could sense how desperately she was clinging to his words as if they were the last tether to sanity. He knew what he had to do.

Clearing his own turmoil and thoughts, Severus began to show her his own visions; their first Potions lesson together, the day they met in the Great Hall with Lily by his side; Sirius sitting across her during breakfast and making her turn pink with laughter, James slinging his arm around her and purposefully annoying her by giving an awful nickname, Lily studying with her at the library—and like a cool balm, Severus could feel Hermione's mind returning. The racing thoughts slowed to a calm stream, and slowly but surely, Hermione was coming back.

I'm right here, he said softly. You can do this. He has no power over you. Destroy it.

He opened his eyes and returned to the spiraling wind and the horcrux fighting against them, but this time its shrieks were not of malice, but of fear. For Hermione was no longer on her knees; she was rising quickly and had her wand pointing at the diary. Without even a moment's pause, she reached down and violently shoved Severus behind her, then slashed her wand in the air.

Roaring flames ignited in front of them. The cutting wind disappeared instantly and Severus gasped for breath, slowly pulling himself to his feet. His wand was raised but shaking and he winced at the echoing screams of the horcrux.

An enormous flaming beast was circling before them, destroying everything in its path. He turned to Hermione. Her eyes were red but a deadly calm had come over her, and with grim determination she steadily lifted her wand at the flames. She turned her head suddenly towards him.

"Look away, Severus," she said. Severus's eyes widened and he looked away quickly. He heard the wand slash in the air and as quickly as the deadly flames came, they were gone.

Darkness surrounded them again as their eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light. Around them was devastation like no other; trees were fallen over and burned to ash, and the grass was charred and nearly barren. The damage was deadly and quick, but the closer they looked, it was clear that the fire only touched the trees closest to them and did not spread outside the clearing. Hermione had successfully prevented the fire from escalating dangerously.

Severus's eyes fell to the diary. It was burned and almost completely diminished, and the soul inside of it destroyed. A sense of relief washed over him as Hermione reached forward to pick it up and the diary turned to dust at her touch.

Hermione turned to him then, smiling tremulously. "Thank you," she said, and promptly fainted.

xxx

The strong smell of smoke and wood stirred Hermione from her sleep. She felt aches and pains everywhere, but it was no question that her head hurt most of all. It was pounding incessantly as if she'd had one too many firewhiskeys, and it did not seem likely that the pain would go away soon. Groaning, Hermione blearily opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was that it was still dark. The second was that a soft blanket was draped over her. Hermione's eyes traveled until they landed on the hunched figure of Severus Snape sitting near her, his hands folded and legs crossed, and for all intents and purposes fast asleep. She must have made some noise, for his eyes suddenly snapped open.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he said. "It's four o'clock. You've been asleep for three hours." Severus looked at her unsurely. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," Hermione admitted. With some effort she managed to sit up, and pulled out a twig that was lodged in her hair. She grimaced.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Very much. I'll have to drink something for it once I get back home," Hermione winced and tenderly rubbed the back of her head. Severus merely watched her as she slowly gathered her bearings. Sighing, Hermione folded the blanket and stuffed it back in her bottomless purse, then faced Severus.

"There's two things I ought to say to you now," Hermione said quietly. Severus stared blankly. "First, I'm sorry."

"Again?"

"Yes. What happened was exactly what I knew it'd be. Completely out of control and utter chaos. I put you in grave danger."

"Let's not have that conversation again. I chose this too, remember?"

Hermione wanted to protest, but knew that for now she would get nowhere. Clearing her throat, Hermione nodded. "Second, thank you."

Severus's lips twitched. "You said that one already too."

"Properly this time," said Hermione. "I don't know how you did it, but…you pulled me out from whatever that horcrux was doing to me. I've never let myself get that way. Even last time when it was resisting, I was able to fight it off. For some reason it was different with the diary…and if you weren't there today, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

Severus patted her hand awkwardly and attempted a smile. "But you are, and that horcrux is not. That's all that matters."

Hermione nodded and sighed again. "I think it's time to go home now."

They rose up slowly and brushed their clothes, then began their journey back to their homes. Whether it was the excitement of their success or their tiredness, they did not know, but they spoke animatedly through the duration of the walk, barely stifling their laughter as they grew closer to Hermione's home. It was as if they were finally free, the horcrux no longer destroying their consciousness, and they could not be happier.

Severus stopped in front of her front door and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, then?"

"Yes." Hermione paused, as if wanting to say something more but was too unsure to say it. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Spit it out, then."

Hermione looked at Severus thoughtfully, and replied carefully, "One thing I've learned since I came to this decade is that nothing is set in stone, and that you should never assume anything of the future. And what you did today proved that whatever you saw of yourself in my memories when you were teaching me Occlumency isn't what you're going to be. You are brave and kind. The man I knew twenty years in the future was neither."

Severus was stunned speechless as Hermione gave him one last smile and went inside.

As she crept up to her room, she saw the lamp light on through Sirius's room. Quietly, she knocked.

The door opened to Sirius leaning against the doorframe. She couldn't seem him clearly as his face was hidden shadows, but she still make out the frown etched on his face.

"It's okay," she said softly. Sirius exhaled slowly and nodded.

"I'm glad," he replied. "You're a bloody reckless witch, did you know that?"

Hermione smiled widely. "Only too well." Clearing her throat and glancing down at her shoes briefly, Hermione whispered, "Well, good night, then."

"'Night, Hermione," said Sirius quietly, gazing at her in a way that made Hermione's heart beat quicken. Quickly she stepped away and headed for her room, not knowing why her face felt so warm all of a sudden.

xxx

"Can you believe this," said James with his mouth stuffed full of cauldron cakes, "'Mysterious Fire Mystifies Muggles'—and it was right on the outskirts of our town!"

Sirius glanced at Hermione, who immediately stiffened and shook her head warningly. "Eh, I wouldn't believe too much of it, James," Sirius said off-handedly as he took a swig of pumpkin juice. "Sounds like a bit more of that Skeeter rubbish."

" 'Two muggles taking a midnight stroll to walk their dogs witnessed an alarming fire in the forest by Kenilworth and Dixon,'" James continued. "'The Department of Security arrived at the scene before Muggle interference and cleared the area. Dark Magical involvement is suspected.'"

Hermione paled in her seat as the train to Hogwarts slowed down. James folded the Daily Prophet on his lap and stared out the window. "We were so close," he muttered sadly. "I didn't hear a thing."

"How could you, with you snoring so loudly?" Remus said quietly, causing Sirius to snort loudly.

"Did you hear anything, Hermione?" Peter asked hopefully.

Hermione glanced between Peter and the boys. She smiled wistfully. "Not a thing."

She caught Sirius's eye, who merely rolled his.

The train slowed to a stop after a few minutes, and everybody pulled on their robes and headed towards the carriages. It was dark and raining heavily as they headed up to the castle, the sweeping front lawn glistening with the light cast down from the castle. Quickly the sixth years ducked inside and went straight to the Great Hall.

Hermione's eyes roved over the four tables until they reached Slytherin. It was remarkable to her how many friends she had made from that House, yet at the same time it was no surprise at all. She saw Scabior sitting idly next to another sixth year girl, and Regulus sitting beside Severus. The latter caught her eye briefly, and without a hint of a smile, he looked away.

Had Severus read the Daily Prophet as well? The story was not front page news by any means, but the fact that the burning woods had not only been published, but the fire had been seen by muggles? Hermione shuddered to think what would happen if a muggle had been walking through the forest at that time…careless, she had been so careless….

"Hermione," said Sirius next to her, and Hermione glanced down to see him waiting for her to sit. Smiling sheepishly, Hermione sat beside him and watched as the plates and goblets instantly filled.

"Doesn't look any happier, does he?" Sirius noted. Hermione looked up in surprise. She followed his gaze to the Slytherin table, and said, "Regulus?"

"I saw you checking too. Merlin, what a year this will be—I don't think Regulus has hated me more than he does now."

"He doesn't hate you, Sirius," Hermione said patiently as she nibbled on a piece of chicken.

"He does. It's alright," said Sirius with a small shrug. "Has he told you anything since, er…since?"

"No," Hermione admitted with a sigh. "Neither Severus nor Regulus have told me any of it, but I know that…you know…it's done."

Sirius nodded, his eyes downcast. "I feel like a shit brother for letting it get this far. I should've—I dunno—steered him away from Mum more, kept his nose down and showed him the right way. I should've done something. Instead I pushed him as far away from myself as I could. I mean, you remember how I treated him at the start of last year?"

"I do," said Hermione, "But Sirius—blaming yourself because someone chose their own path isn't the answer. I highly doubt you were responsible for pushing Regulus towards the Dark Arts," Hermione challenged, and Sirius sighed. "He was always going to be interested in it no matter what you said."

"Suppose you're right," Sirius acquiesced, and then smirked, "as always."

"The sooner you accept that fact, the easier your life will become," Hermione said primly, but her façade broke quickly as a smile curved her lips.

Sirius laughed, but sobered quickly. "So," his voice lowered, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. "'Mysterious Fire'?"

Hermione felt herself redden. "Maybe."

"Hermione, as enthusiastic as I am for conflagration, you have to be more careful," said Sirius. "The Prophet reported it as Dark Magic Death Eater shit, but the Death Eaters know they weren't involved. If this persists, they're going to start asking questions, and they'll trace everything back to you."

"I know," Hermione moaned helplessly. "I really didn't think anyone would be out to witness it, and—and that fire, it's really hard to control—" she clamped her mouth shut. Sirius raised a brow, but chose not to comment on it.

"Be careful," he said again, and Hermione nodded weakly. Sirius went back to his plate, and Hermione wondered how long she will manage before she does get caught….

After the feast, Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors sleepily trudged to the seventh floor and made their way through the common room and straight to the dormitories. Hermione changed into her night clothes and laid down on her four-poster bed with the red velvet curtains drawn around her, and stared up at the wooden ceiling until her eyes drooped, sleeping to the sound of the rain pattering against the windows.

 

Notes:

Two horcruxes down!

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you to everyone who's sent me so many encouraging and kind messages! It means so much, honestly I don't know how I was lucky enough to have such a loving and kind fandom take their time to read my fic and spread such positivity.

This chapter ended amiably, and with good reason. Chapter 16 will bring us to Phase 2 of Hermione's time travel adventures. There will be definite parallels to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Thanks again to my best friend hinatas for beta'ing this chapter for me! She is a goddess!

Until Chapter 16! xx

Chapter 16: The Prophecy

-:-

The precipice between living and dying was, by most of the wizarding community, largely unacknowledged and ignored. The benefit of coming from magical heritage was the profound ignorance to one's own immortality, lest of course they were immersed in its study.

The same could not be said for wizards of muggle heritage. Muggles grew up knowing their existence was finite, that every memory was precious, every moment was fleeting.

That was what Hermione remembered as she lay gasping in the snow, a trail of warm blood falling into her hair.

-:-

Chapter 16

The Prophecy

Summer was quickly fading as the chill of autumn swept the grounds of Hogwarts. The morning mist rose high during the first week of fall, leaving Hermione's cheeks flushed against the pale wisps of air. Her eyes searched the skies in exasperation as Sirius jogged next to her to match her quick strides.

"But the theory should work, right? If I try to enchant one this summer, I won't have the trace and it'll work?"

"If you wait until after your birthday, of course it will work," Hermione agreed as she shifted her school bag. "But the magic is tricky; I knew someone who once enchanted a car to fly and it didn't have much longevity…"

"Ah, I'm not too worried about that," Sirius said easily, a familiar smirk falling in place. "You're forgetting you're looking at a genius."

Hermione snorted loudly as they reached the shade of a tree where Remus, Peter, and James were already sitting. James tossed Sirius an apple as they sat down.

"Remus was just telling me you two are already studying for the N.E.W.T.s," James said casually as he bit into his own fruit. "Mad, both of you. It's only been a month."

"The N.E.W.T.s won't care if it's been a month," Hermione said sternly as she took out a large book from her bag, opening it on her lap. She sighed wistfully. "It never changes, does it? My old friends were just as lazy, never listened—"

"Yes, yes," Sirius waved away her words carelessly. "I just find it hard to see you studying for exams while trying to overthrow Vol—"

"Shh!" Hermione hissed warningly. "Do you want the whole school to hear? You can't mention this so brazenly!"

"What are we supposed to call it, then?" Sirius asked. "'The Quest'?"

"Call it whatever you like, but don't just blurt it out loudly in public," Hermione bit out.

"Have you, you know…told anyone yet?" asked Peter hesitantly. "Like Dumbledore?"

Hermione glanced around at the curious expressions surrounding her. She sighed. "No, I haven't," she said. "And I really don't want to. Or plan to."

"Why not?" Remus frowned. "We decided it was for the best, and this is serious—"

"I know it is! Which is why involving more people is not the way to go about it. Honestly, I keep repeating this over and over like a broken record—"

"A what?"

"Nevermind. I don't want anyone to interfere, and I know what I'm doing." Hermione looked away bitterly. She felt like every day she was repeating the same thing over and over, and she was getting irritated by it. "You don't understand. You have no idea what I've gone through."

No one said a word. Hermione closed the book on her lap and began stuffing it back in her bag. "I think I'm going to eat my lunch inside."

"We just want you to be safe, Hermione," Remus said quietly.

Hermione stilled. "Safe," Hermione said slowly. "Because telling Dumbledore would keep me safe, naturally. The moment I do, he'll think I'm mad try to stop me from doing anything ever again. He will monitor my every move, keep me locked inside, keep me safe. But that's what you want, isn't it?" Hermione glared. "Isn't it?"

"Of course not," James said testily. "But you're right, what you're doing is mad."

"James…" Peter started.

No, it's true," James said stubbornly. "I won't go soft on her about this. You can't do this alone, Hermione."

"I didn't think I was alone anymore," said Hermione stiffly. "I guess I was wrong about that too."

"You're not," Remus said fiercely, now looking at James with annoyance.

"Well if she keeps doing this by herself, she will be! Blimey, she won't even tell us what she's doing, or what we can do to help! She's got it all bottled inside, like she always has—" James exploded. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe evenly. "We understand that you're not ready to tell us anything about this yet. Somehow Snape knows about this and Regulus got roped into it, and that doesn't bring me any more comfort. But you have to do something."

"I'm going to do this the only way I see safest for me," Hermione replied evenly. "I'm sorry if this bothers you."

James huffed. Remus tilted his head and looked at Sirius. "You're being awfully quiet over there. Don't you have something to say?"

Sirius looked up from his folded hands, his grey eyes sharp and calm. "Not at all. Hermione pretty much covered it all."

James looked at Sirius wildly. "You agree she shouldn't tell Dumbledore?"

"I think we ought to start widening our perspective, mate," said Sirius. "She knows what she's doing, and we need to start trusting that. She saved my brother's neck this summer. Not to mention what happened last time I made the mistake of distrusting her. So yeah," Sirius shrugged. "I don't have anything to say."

Hermione gazed at Sirius with surprise, and felt such a rush of affection for the young Gryffindor that she'd never felt in her life. The last thing she expected was for Sirius to come to her defense, but what he'd said to her in the summer must have been true.

"So you think what she's doing is right?"

"I think it's time we stopped forcing our decisions on her."

James was glaring at Sirius. It was almost uncomfortable to see, as Hermione had never seen James be truly angry at Sirius. Peter was shifting uneasily as his eyes darted back and forth between them, and Remus was looking mutinously down at his book.

"I don't think we're welcome here right now, Hermione," Sirius broke his gaze away from James and got to his feet with a soft sigh. He helped her up and said casually over his shoulder, "See you in Defense."

The walk to the castle was odd and quiet. Hermione threw furtive glances his way but couldn't get anything out of his expression; if anything, he looked tired.

"I'm not really hungry," said Sirius suddenly. "Want to head to the common room?"

"Er, why not," said Hermione as Sirius steered them to the grand staircase. They walked in amiable silence until they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and Sirius let her through first before following her inside.

The common room was empty and silent. "I guess I could work on the essay Professor Binns assigned us to hand in next week—"

"Would you like to see something?" Sirius interrupted her, and Hermione's mouth parted in surprise.

"Er—sure?"

"Stay right here," Sirius whirled around and went up the stairs to his dormitory, leaving a dumbstruck Hermione.

He came back within a minute and settled himself down on an armchair. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his erratic behavior but remained silent.

"Hold out your hand," Sirius ordered. Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes but complied. Sirius reached over and dropped a thick piece of parchment on her outstretched hand. Hermione's eyes went wide, for she knew perfectly well what this was. She looked at Sirius with alarm at first but quickly tampered it down to one of mild surprise.

"Parchment?" Hermione said, unimpressed.

The trademark smile lit Sirius's face. "Not just any parchment," he leaned closer and pressed the tip of his wand against the center of the parchment. "'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"

Like clockwork, ink sprung upon the parchment slowly, swirling into a perfect map of Hogwarts.

"We made this together, James, Remus, and Peter," Sirius smiled proudly. "Took ages, but we finally figured out every corner of this place, all the secret passageways…"

Hermione watched little footprints dart across the map, their names trailing beside them. "This…is a map that shows all of Hogwarts and the people in it."

Sirius beamed. "And now you get to see it."

Hermione smiled hesitantly, but it faded. "Sirius, why are you showing me this now? Is this—is this about James?" Sirius's eyebrows knitted in confusion as Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because if this is some sort of revenge on him because you're angry, I really don't want any part in it."

"I didn't show this to spite him," Sirius frowned. "Well, I did a bit. But we were already planning on showing you this soon; I just sped up the process."

"And I suppose he really wanted to be there when I saw it," Hermione concluded, and Sirius gave her a carefully blank look that spoke volumes. "Well there's nothing to be done now," Hermione ran her fingers down the parchment as a small smile tugged at her lips. When was the last time she'd held this in her hands? Ages and ages ago…back when Harry was suspicious of Draco Malfoy, showing how his name would disappear off the map in the middle of the night…of course, Harry had been right about him, but it no longer mattered.

"What gave you all the idea to make it?"

Sirius grinned slyly. "Well, we all had a penchant for wandering about the castle after hours, and I suppose we grew tired of being sent to detention by prefects all the time."

Hermione smiled as a small laugh escaped her. She unfolded the map further and looked at her own name hovering in the Gryffindor Tower, with Sirius's name beside it. "This is pretty advanced magic, you know," she said off-handedly. "Being able to track every movement in the castle…hold on," she squinted at the map, and her eyes widened at the revelation. "This is your handwriting!"

Sirius looked smug as she gazed at him in amazement. Hermione had seen this map hundreds of times already, but she never even considered whose handwriting would be bewitched permanently onto the map. Her heart filled with delight, and she wished dearly that Harry could've known. It would have given him so much comfort after Sirius had gone beyond the veil…

Hermione frowned, her thoughts drifting to a darker place. Sirius, dead…James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Severus…all her friends, now…would she be able to keep them safe? Were there some things that could never be altered in the fabric of time? The sorting hat had warned her at the start of her journey about this, that there are always consequences…but it was a warning, nothing more than that. The hat did not and could not predict the future. And Hermione was determined to keep it that way.

"Oi, why the gloomy face?" Sirius's words interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione looked up quickly. He'd been peering down at her as if he'd been trying to catch her eyes when they'd been downcast, and now tilted his head questioningly. "Thought this'd cheer us both up. Cheered me up a little."

"It did," Hermione smiled half-heartedly. "I was just thinking about my old friends before I transferred here. They were just like you lot, and this map reminded me of them…I guess I just miss them."

"Why don't you visit them?" Sirius asked. "And you could always write to them, too."

Hermione's frown etched deeper as a feeling of loneliness engulfed her body. "I can't," she said quietly. "They're gone too."

Hermione could feel Sirius's gaze boring through her, and she wished she hadn't brought this subject up. The last thing she wanted was yet another interrogation, yet another painful memory to be resurfaced...she didn't want to talk about this at all, and so she began thinking of ways to leave.

"Like your parents?" asked Sirius quietly, hesitantly.

Hermione nodded stiffly. Just as she was about to stand up to excuse herself, she felt Sirius's hand tentatively grasp hers. She glanced up at him in surprise.

"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling, but I do know this. The ones who love us…they never really leave us, do they? They'll always be here," he placed his other hand over his heart, and smiled a little. "So you see, you're never really alone."

Hermione stared at him for a very long time until she broke into a wide smile. She turned her hand over to clasp his firmly, feeling as if the warmth of his hand had filled her veins with sunlight, and the memory of Harry and Ron grinning shined brightly in her mind.

xxx

Surprisingly, there was no brooding from James nor Sirius the following day. Hermione had expected the typical icy glances and muted avoidance, but none came. James and Sirius seemed to have patched things up relatively quickly, and Hermione suspected some convincing had been done on Sirius's part about Hermione's plans.

Whenever she thought about it, Hermione couldn't help the small smile that crept on her face. This was nothing like how it was last year, and it confirmed that she finally did something right; her friends' reactions were growing less and less suspicious and more concerned, and Sirius had somehow become her greatest ally in terms of making the marauders respect the freedom of her own choices.

As far as allies went, however, she didn't get the chance to sit down with Severus until the middle of the first term. It wasn't that he was avoiding her—or vice versa—there simply were less and less opportunities for them to speak on greater matters for more than a few minutes. She noted that Severus could be seen hanging about the usual Slytherin gang (half of whom were now inducted Death Eaters) more and more; by contrast, Regulus seemed to have made it a mission to make himself scarce during these times.

On the day before their first Hogsmeade trip, Severus dropped down in a chair across from her in the library.

Hermione slowly lifted her gaze as she flipped a page of her book. "You better hide that before Madame Pince catches you. Apparently she's set a no-food policy in the library."

Severus took a large bite from his apple and smirked, the sound of his crunching echoing against the towering bookshelves.

"Did you see Lena Quarkley yesterday?"

"Terrible, what happened to her," said Hermione sadly, leaning back against the chair and stretching. "Did she at least get the goal? I couldn't hear over the cheering once Emmett caught the snitch."

"She didn't," said Severus with a half-shrug. "Twelve fractures and broken bones for nothing…she won't leave her room anymore, says she looks like an Egyptian mummy."

"People better not be teasing her," said Hermione darkly as she picked up her quill and dipped it quickly in the inkpot. Severus was quiet for a few minutes as he stared out the high-arched window, the sound of a quill scratching against parchment drifting between them.

"Tomorrow's the first Hogsmeade trip," Severus mentioned.

"Mhm," Hermione muttered. "It loses its appeal after the first dozen trips, frankly."

"Hermione," Severus said quietly. "Tomorrow is the first Hogsmeade trip."

Her quill paused in its movement. Hermione lifted her eyes slowly, taking in Severus's careful expression. Slowly, she set down her quill and straightened.

"And what will you be doing when you're there?" asked Hermione lightly.

"I don't know yet," Severus replied. "I don't know that much to be honest. But I'm pretty sure I'll want something sweet later on, probably around noon."

"Hmm," Hermione nodded. "Sounds like a good idea."

Severus took another bite of his apple. "I should probably get rid of this before I'm banished from the library forever." He leaned forward as if to brush off his robes as he stood, but instead smoothly slid a note underneath her textbook.

He whirled around quickly and disappeared behind a bookshelf, his robes fluttering behind him. A few moments later she heard the door to the library open, then close loudly. Hermione exhaled and pressed her hand against her forehead.

The first Death Eater meeting was being held somewhere in Hogsmeade. At first Hermione had been thrown by Severus's strange choice of words, but now it was all finally making sense—why Severus had been so absent these past few weeks, why they rarely spoke about important things in the small opportunities they did have, and now why he indirectly told her about the first meeting. It all had to do with keeping his façade of loyalty while simultaneously keeping Hermione under the radar yet informed. While it seemed far-fetched that a bunch of students would be watching Severus under such scrutiny, it was better being safe than sorry. They were much more than just students now…they had made a life decision by joining the Death Eater movement.

What was she supposed to do with this information? She had no idea where or when the meeting would be, and she wasn't sure she wanted to have anything to do with it. This was Severus's role; the last thing she wanted to do was interfere.

Hermione glanced around surreptitiously before lifting her book and picking up the note Severus left for her. Stuffing it swiftly in her bag, Hermione packed her things and sprinted back to her dormitory. It would be safest to read the note in the privacy of her own room.

The common room was bustling with excitement; a group of third years were listen with rapt fascination as James regaled a story of getting dunked into a barrel of cockroach clusters.

"Aren't you banned from some of the Hogsmeade shops?" one boy piped up. "You, Black, and Pettigrew—"

"The caramel-window rumors are true," James said distastefully, but not looking a bit put-out. "But our banishment's been since lifted—it was only up to last spring, right, Peter?" Peter nodded eagerly. "Right, so it's long past spring by now. A whole new year is ahead of us," James grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she quickly went to the girl's dormitory. She reached inside her bag and took out the note, eyes roving over it quickly. She frowned irritably and started to tear the paper, muttering, "As always."

xxx

"Will there ever be a time where I don't get cryptic messages?" Hermione crossed her arms as Severus approached her. She shivered slightly at the relentless gust of wind. "We need to find a new place once winter's here."

"Do you know anywhere private where we can eat our lunch?"

Hermione shrugged. "I dunno. The library used to be a good place, but I guess even there isn't safe anymore." She raised an eyebrow pointedly and Severus huffed.

"I couldn't risk it," Severus defended. "What if they'd overheard?"

"You're telling me the least academically driven Slytherins would waste their time sneaking about the library?" Hermione challenged dryly. "I'm so afraid."

"Whatever," Severus mumbled. "It's not been easy these past few weeks. A single slip-up and I'll be the next Nearly Headless Nick."

"That's not funny," Hermione glowered. "It's…it's not that serious, though, is it? I mean, you're still just kids. They can't be taking this so seriously inside Hogwarts, right?"

"Isn't it you who's always saying we're not kids anymore?" Severus stated with a wry smile. "I'm just being careful. It's really not so terrible…most of it, anyway. I'm used it. Regulus, on the other hand…"

"I've hardly seen him since school started," Hermione frowned. "I thought he was just avoiding you."

"He's avoiding everything," said Severus. "He turns up when he has to, but mostly he sticks by himself now. Even Scabior's starting to give up on him, and they were actually friends."

Hermione scowled. "Why is he doing this?"

"Think of it in his perspective, Hermione. Would you be happy right now if you were him?"

"I'm not happy as it is," said Hermione. "But I see what you're saying."

Severus looked at her carefully. "So…how've things been with you, since…you know."

Hermione arched a brow. "Since the forest?"

Severus nodded.

"Well," Hermione inhaled deeply. "The same, really. I haven't gotten any closer to finding more horcruxes. Sirius has been a pretty good friend since the summer. I keep expecting him to change back to not trusting me and being wary around me…but he hasn't. Not even when we skirt the topic of what I'm doing against Voldemort. James on the other hand has been, I dunno…the rest of them aren't very happy with my decisions, but they've accepted it I suppose."

"Naturally Potter would be the last to understand," Severus commented with much heat. "So long as he and the others don't behave the way they did last year. Like I had behaved at the end of last term."

"They won't," Hermione said firmly. "And you really should stop blaming yourself for that, Severus, you know I understood."

Severus shrugged. Hermione sighed quietly. "So why did you want to meet here? Anything important."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Is that all I am to you now? An informant?"

"Of course not!" Hermione said in shock. She narrowed her eyes when she caught Severus's smirk.

"It may come as a surprise, but I have missed you," Severus grunted. "I thought we could catch up. The job description of being a Death Eater sort of implies having a standard of who I'm friends with, and if any of the Slytherins saw me spending so much time with you…"

"They would get suspicious," Hermione finished tiredly. "It makes sense. I get why you haven't been around much."

Severus shrugged. "It won't be for long."

"Is it the same with Lily?" asked Hermione curiously. "You two are sort of friends again, right? If you're avoiding me because of the Death Eaters, is it the same with Lily?"

"Sort of. We have advanced potions together this time, so yeah, I've gotten the chance to talk to her," Severus tugged at his green tie a bit uncomfortably. "It's not the same as before. And I think it was supposed to be that way, so it doesn't really bother me anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned. "You and Lily are still friends, though…?"

"We are a little," said Severus hesitantly, "but like I said, it's not the same. It was never meant to be. At least, not now."

Hermione locked her eyes onto Severus, trying to piece together what he wasn't saying out loud. His gaze was unflinching, but filled with something much deeper than what was being said…Hermione's suspicions began to grow louder…until she came to a conclusion she deeply dreaded.

"No," she whispered. She stared at Severus wildly, eyes wide open, praying he would prove her thoughts wrong. "You didn't—you couldn't've—right?" She gripped his sleeve tightly. "You didn't see…"

His gaze finally lowered as he stared down his lap. "When we were in the forest, and the horcrux had taken control, I had to get you out of it," said Severus in a low, calm voice. "I had to reach into your mind and pull you out. And I tried, I tried very hard not to look—I didn't want to, those weren't my memories to see—but they were burning in my mind, for that's what the horcrux's power was doing to you—and I saw only for five seconds. The things you didn't like to think about, what you've been keeping to yourself secret for so long…I'm sorry," Severus said emphatically. "I couldn't stop it—if I could've I wouldn't have looked at a single memory. I'm not supposed to know. I can see that now."

Hermione's hand loosened its grip on Severus's sleeve until it dropped by her side. "What did you see?" she said hollowly.

Severus swallowed heavily. "I saw Lily," he said hoarsely. "And P—James. And the boy. I saw terrible things done to him, your friend Harry…" he broke off as he shook his head. "And Lupin and Black, and Pettigrew—!"

"No," Hermione said firmly. Her shock had now faded into determination. "You need to forget what you saw about Peter. What you saw about James and Lily, Remus, Sirius—that's all what my future was. It's different now. You can't think of Peter as the man he was in my memories. They're not dead, and he's not a murderer, just as you aren't a vile, bitter old man."

"But what if there's some things that can't be changed?" said Severus. "Lily and I—we were never meant to be. I had said the same, disgusting thing back in your time that I did last May. We're two people who aren't meant to be friends—no, Hermione, listen. Right now, this is how it's supposed to be. I can see now that while things have changed since you came to my time, some things are stagnant, unchangeable. For now, my friendship with Lily is one of those things. And I'm alright with that."

"You're being silly," Hermione snapped. "You can't go on assuming these things."

"I'm making my own choices," Severus replied smoothly. "This is one of them. Perhaps in the future I'll think about mending our broken friendship better, but right now our priority is destroying horcruxes and defeating the Dark Lord."

"Fine," Hermione said sharply. "Do whatever you like. But if this is because you think James and Lily—well, fine, then, but that doesn't mean you can't be her friend!"

Severus looked back at her, wistfulness and resilience written clearly in his expression.

Hermione looked away in frustration. He was being unreasonable. And he was only just telling her that he'd seen her memories! Why hadn't he told her right after she destroyed the horcrux? Angry thoughts buzzed inside her mind as she fumed silently, leaving Hermione irritable and hungry.

"What's your plan at Hogsmeade?" Hermione decided to change the subject as she began eating her forgotten lunch in earnest.

Severus cleared his throat and said quickly, "Well, I don't know where exactly we'll be going, but the meeting will be done before noon. I figured we could meet at—"

"Actually I thought about it, and maybe we shouldn't," Hermione interrupted. "It'll seem suspicious for you to see me right after a Death Eater meeting, don't you think? Let's just wait a bit, and then you can tell me everything."

Severus nodded in understanding. "It makes sense, I suppose. The day after, then?"

"The day after," she said grimly.

Their lunchtime passed in silence that was neither uncomfortable nor amiable, and soon they departed to their respective classes. Severus's words haunted her thoughts for the next three classes, not once raising her hand as she often would to answer a question. Consumed with questions, Hermione was silent for most of the day.

She remained this way throughout dinner, eating distractedly as she tried not to glance across at the Slytherin table. She couldn't help the thoughts that were troubling her; had something been changed unintentionally with Severus seeing into her future? The burden of altering time was supposed to be only on Hermione, she was the catalyst in this time, only she was supposed to have full knowledge of what could be. Deep down Hermione knew she was thinking too deeply into this and that Severus seeing so much of her memories wouldn't change anything. For all she knew, Severus meant to see her future all along. After all, hadn't he seen himself in her memories anyway during their first Occlumency lesson?

A headache was starting to make its presence known near her temples, and Hermione sighed. There was still so much she didn't know about time travel, about the consequences of time alteration—at least, not for the Time-Turner she'd used. She knew perfectly about the one she used in her third year, and those principles of time travel were relatively straightforward. But using a Time-Turner that was folklore even in the wizarding world gave her very little source material to study from.

Hermione stared at her plate, her food mostly untouched, and pushed it away, her appetite having been lost many hours ago. "I think I'm going to head in early," Hermione said to Lily who was sitting beside her.

"You sure? The dessert's about to pop up in a few minutes," Lily frowned slightly.

Hermione nodded. "I think I just need some rest."

Lily smiled encouragingly. "I'll see you later, then."

Hermione stepped away from the bench and swiftly left the Great Hall, lost in her thoughts. Ghosts drifted lazily above her as she made her way up the staircase, wishing that Gryffindor Tower wasn't all the way up on the seventh floor.

She nearly missed a door closing softly as she passed the corridor to the third floor. She paused, narrowing her eyes as she squinted down the empty hall. The lamplight was dim and flickering, casting shadows and muted darkness beyond the flames' reach. She almost dismissed it entirely until she heard a loud shout echoing distantly down the corridor.

For once in your life, mind your business and go to bed. For a moment she nearly listened to herself and turned away. But curiosity got the best of her (as it tended to), and she discarded her plans of a quiet evening in bed with a book as she walked down the third floor.

In all honesty, Hermione wasn't the investigative type in the old trio—it had always been Harry who'd done all the primary snooping (and landing himself in detention half the time), and Hermione had always been the resourceful one to triple check everything from the library and gently drop inquisitive questions to professors who indulged her bookish curiosity. Now, as she lurked quietly down the corridor alone, she found herself missing Harry and Ron's presence beside her dearly, hidden under the safety of Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map in tow.

Whoever was down this corridor was making no effort in concealing their voices. Hermione's cheeks reddened at the thought of this being nothing more than a couple having a private moment in an empty classroom. She would be mortified to find them in a compromising position…but the thought disappeared when she heard what was distinctly an argument coming from a door on her left, and her breath caught when she recognized the voices.

Hermione was right in front of the door by now and she wanted to leave immediately. As much as she wanted to help and as curious as she was, this wasn't her place right now. Just as Hermione was about to whirl around and pretend she never came down this way, the door flew open.

Regulus flinched at the sight of her and then rolled his eyes, muttering 'of course' before shouldering past her quickly. Hermione's mouth parted as silent words formed on the tip of her tongue. He disappeared from the corridor and went down the staircase. She glanced briefly at the classroom, the door now wide open, and tentatively peeked inside.

"Was wondering when you'd show your face again. Not a single letter all summer. I'm hurt."

Scabior was leaning casually against a chair, his feet propped up against a desk and tilting back so the chair was balancing on its back legs. He smiled disarmingly, then pressed a cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

Hermione's eyebrows nearly rose to her hairline. "Since when did you start?"

"Who said I'm only just starting?" Scabior grinned wide, revealing two rows of pearly teeth.

"At least make sure to banish the smoke and freshen up the room before you leave," Hermione groused. I could've been in my bed right now, Hermione thought wistfully as crossed her arms. "I don't recall you writing me a letter all summer either."

"So I didn't," Scabior acknowledged, his mirth not quite reaching his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Hermione sighed, leaning against the wall. "I was heading to my dorm when I saw something down this corridor. It seemed strange, so…here I am."

"Always meddling where you shouldn't, eh, Granger," Scabior dropped the cigarette onto the table before him and flicked his wand lazily, banishing the cylinder with a puff of smoke. "It'll be the end of you soon if you keep that up. Bad shit's going down."

Hermione peered at him carefully, her eyes dropping down to his right forearm that was covered by his robe. Scabior followed her gaze and snorted.

"Don't worry," Scabior pulled up his sleeve, revealing a clear forearm absent of any tattoo. "Even they got standards, and I wasn't particularly interested."

"We both know just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there," Hermione said lightly. Scabior looked at her oddly.

"Why do you know that?"

Hermione's lips twitched. "I'm always meddling where I shouldn't."

Scabior scoffed as he rolled down his sleeve. "Trust me, I wouldn't make a show of it if I had gotten it. You can sleep easy tonight." His lips twisted into a snarl as he spat, "Bet you know all about Regulus, though. Heard you had a nice long chat with him a few weeks ago."

Hermione lifted her chin, her voice soft. "He made his choice, Scabior. No one in the world could've changed his mind."

"Then he's a bloody idiot," Scabior seethed, his chair slamming down loudly on the ground as he dropped his feet from the table. "He deserves what's coming."

Hermione glared at him sharply. "No. You're his only friend right now, you do not get to be an ass. And honestly, did you expect anything different? You knew exactly what road he was walking on before, and I don't remember you jumping through hoops trying to stop him!"

"Oh fuck off," said Scabior, shaking his head. "You know us for one year and you think you've figured us all out? It ain't my bloody fault he don't listen, he won't even bloody tell me what's going on with him now, 'cept showing me that arm of his a few minutes ago—"

"And then you blew up in his face, didn't you! No wonder he's afraid to tell you anything anymore!"

Scabior glared at her but his shoulders hunched slightly. He looked away, anger and frustration radiating from him as he fiddled with his wand. Hermione stayed silent, not wanting to break whatever thought process that was going on in Scabior's head. She was fighting fatigue and sleep as it was, and just barely noticed when Scabior rose to stand. She eyed him warily as he sauntered over to her, pausing just a few feet from Hermione.

"Sorry 'bout the 'fuck off' back there," he grumbled, coughing a little before sauntering out of the classroom.

Hermione blinked a few times once he was gone, then gritted her teeth and fought the urge to slam her head against the wall. She chose to spare herself a worsening headache by leaving the room and sprinting to her room, diving under her blankets, and vowing that she would never, ever deliberately interfere with other people's issues because she was very, very done with being everybody's nanny.

xxx

A high-pitched squeal woke all the girls in the dorm the next morning.

Hermione groaned, rolling to her side and pushing herself into a sitting position. Her hair was wild and even bushier than usual, her eyes still closed as if watching the last bits of a forgotten dream. The air stirred around her and there was scurrying movement across her four-poster bed, and finally Hermione opened her eyes.

"Snow!" someone shouted happily. "Snow on Halloween!"

Hermione scowled and slipped off the bed, padding over to the nearest window and gasping. She turned away and sought Lily, who was trudging zombie-like towards Hermione while rubbing an eye tiredly.

"Lily, come quick," Hermione urged. Lily straightened and focused on Hermione's face, an inquisitive look causing her lips to pout. She sidled next to Hermione and looked out the window.

"Well that's a first," she said, nonplussed. "It's not snowing now. Must've happened while we were sleeping."

"This can't be normal," said Hermione dubiously.

"Who are we to argue with nature," Lily shrugged and turned away, heading towards the bathroom.

The sky was overcast with grey and white as a heavy stillness enveloped the castle with a cold, iron grip. Something was stirring in the air; the winds were changing and chills were sweeping down the spines of the inhabitants of Hogwarts, leaving everyone with an inexplicable notion to stay indoors though it was largely dismissed.

Hermione bundled herself warmly underneath her school robes as she quickly went down for breakfast. It was still quite early in the morning, but the prospect of a Hogsmeade trip coupled with the early snowfall prompted nearly all the students to scarf down some food and head out immediately. Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus were halfway through their meal by the time Hermione arrived, sliding quickly next to Sirius.

"So," James began, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth, "where do we begin this time? A quick stop to the Three Broomsticks and then Zonko's? I'm running low on my Filibuster's Fireworks—"

"Actually Remus and I wanted to stop by Honeydukes first," said Peter, exchanging amused looks with Remus. "You know his sweet tooth."

"Hell yes we do," Sirius winked slyly at Remus, who smiled widely and winked back. James and Peter sniggered in their porridge, and Hermione looked between them strangely.

"Did I miss something?" she smiled hesitantly, not liking the way Peter snorted loudly and James glanced at Sirius.

"A story for another time, sister," James reassured. "Right now we have to go."

"Not yet, mate," Remus pointed across the room, and watched as an owl came soaring towards them. It squawked loudly before dropping a letter onto James's plate.

"Is that from your mum? Can you ask her if she's making those little apple pies for Christmas this year?" asked Sirius eagerly.

"It's from Xenophilius Lovegood," said James slowly, looking at everyone in shock. "Why would he write to me? He all but threw us out last time we saw him."

"Dunno. Maybe he wants you to join a hunt for three-eyed porcuprickles," Peter suggested.

"You did tell him to write to you if something ever happened," Hermione reminded, looking at the letter warily.

James glanced at her unsurely and looked down at the letter. With fumbling fingers he tore it open, his eyes moving rapidly over the note.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "This…shit."

"What?" said Sirius. James handed it over and Sirius took it quickly. Hermione leaned towards him, her head almost brushing the side of his as they read the letter.

Mr. Potter,

I was told to write to you should something occur that I saw fit to inform…while I didn't take it seriously at the time, I felt this was something that warranted an owl, given the current state of things...alas I still haven't found another paper supplier to publish this in the latest issue of the Quibbler….

A muggle family was found dead in their home in Leeds. The Dark Mark was not spotted above their home, but it can be confirmed Dark Magic was involved.

X. Lovegood

Sirius slid the letter towards Remus and Peter, and Hermione slowly straightened again.

"What does this mean?" asked Sirius quietly. He turned to look at Hermione. "Could this be..?"

"It has to," Hermione said firmly. "And it's close to the time frame when my family was murdered last year, don't you think?" Everyone flinched at her words, but Hermione chose to ignore it. "This isn't coincidence. I have…a very bad feeling about this."

Sirius's eyes snapped to hers sharply. Hermione gazed back levelly and shook her head just barely. Later.

"We'll talk about this on the way," said Remus. "Let's get going."

They briskly made their way to the Entrance Hall and began their trek to Hogsmeade. Sirius held back slightly and paced his strides to match with Hermione's as the other three trudged thickly through the snow in front of them. Once reaching the village Sirius waved his hand sheepishly at them, calling, "You three go on up, we're gonna check out the view of the Shrieking Shack for a bit."

Hermione looked up at Sirius sharply, not liking that he had made this unexpected decision for her without letting her speak. Sirius held out his elbow and Hermione glared briefly before taking his arm into hers.

One they reached the view to the Shrieking Shack, Sirius wasted no time.

"What's going to happen today?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I found out yesterday from Severus that there's going to be a Death Eater meeting today. Somewhere in Hogsmeade. I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner, I just—had other things on my mind yesterday."

Sirius's jaw clenched. "I don't feel good about this, Hermione. I don't think we should be here today."

Hermione's heart fluttered anxiously in agreement. She didn't like this at all either. The murder, the meeting at Hogsmeade, even the damned snow was flashing bright red warning signs in her head. Something very bad was going to happen today, worse than the news they got from that letter…

"Let's—let's tell the others," Hermione said restlessly. "I'd feel much safer once we're back at the castle."

They headed back towards the bustling village, and Hermione began shivering in earnest. Sirius glanced at her warily, but said nothing.

"Where did they say they'd be?" asked Hermione.

"Er, Three Broomsticks? Or, no, Honeydukes?"

"Three Broomsticks is on the way first, let's try there," she replied. They strode briskly towards the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, and just as Hermione's fingers brushed against the doorknob, Sirius suddenly stopped her.

"What?"

Hermione looked at Sirius suspiciously as he looked at her, chagrined. "I think it's best if you went inside yourself for this one," he coughed.

"...And why would I do that?"

"Er, well," Sirius looked extremely uncomfortable. "You know, it's the Three Broomsticks, so…" Hermione shook her head, not understanding where he was going with this. Sirius scratched his head. "Madame Rosmerta is in there, and if I go in then I'll be stuck there for an hour-"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the inn. "Honestly, your head is more inflated than Ron's ever was..."

"Who's?"

Hermione ignored him. They quickly entered the cozy inn and stood awkwardly by the door, their eyes darting urgently for any sight of their friends.

"I don't think they're here," Sirius muttered. Hermione sidled past him and walked along the rows of tables, ignoring the brief glances thrown her way.

"Looking for someone, dear?"

Hermione turned to a good-looking witch drying a glass behind the bar.

"You know James Potter?" she asked.

The woman broke into a grin and laughed lightly. "Do I ever! Are you looking for them?"

"Yes," said Hermione quickly, a spark of hope igniting in her.

"He and his friends haven't come here yet. Don't worry, they always stop by during one of their school trips, or my name isn't Madame Rosmerta," she smiled heartily.

Hermione wilted at her words and turned away, walking back slowly to where Sirius stood. He was leaning against the wall by the door and slouching, as if trying to disappear into the shadows of the room.

"You were right, they're not here," Hermione sighed quietly. Sirius pushed away from the wall and pulled her arm gently.

"Come on, let's try Honeydukes."

"Yeah…" Hermione let herself get pulled a bit towards the door, but dug her heels suddenly into the wooden floor when she caught sight of someone she never expected to see for many years to come. "Trelawney?"

A young witch sitting at the table adjacent to Sirius and Hermione jumped in surprise. Her appearance was just as mystical and disheveled as Hermione remembered, even wearing several multicolored shawls and bangles. "Pardon?"

"Do you know her?" Sirius whispered, and Hermione swallowed.

"Erm, sort of," Hermione fought to think of something quickly. "She's—well, don't you recognize her from the books? Cassandra Trelawney's great-great-granddaughter, Sybill Trelawney?"

Sirius's brows furrowed in deep thought. "What, the Seer?"

"Famed Seer, thank you," Trelawney sniffed, straightening proudly in her seat at Hermione's knowledge. "I see you are acquainted with the noble art of divination?"

"Not a fan, sorry," said Hermione briskly, but Trelawney's hand shot out and snatched Hermione's hand before she could move away.

"It is of no matter, dear, no matter…I was told I'd be here for a job interview, though I didn't suspect they'd send a child for the job…pity…"

Sirius couldn't help but crack a smile. "Wouldn't you have 'seen' it though?"

Trelawney narrowed her eyes behind the large oval glasses. Hermione tried to break free from her grip.

"Sorry, you've mistaken me for somebody else—we really better be going—"

Hermione scowled when the grip on her hand became tighter. She looked at Trelawney warily, and froze when she saw her hooded eyes had now misted over, rolling dangerously behind her glasses.

"Sirius—Sirius, help—she won't let go—"

Hermione watched frightenedly as Sirius tried to pry Trelawney's hand from Hermione's, but could not. Sirius made a sound of frustration and growled, "Let her go, you madwoman—"

A sharp, rasping breath came from Trelawney, and she tightened her grip on Hermione's hand to the point of crushing, causing Hermione to cry out in pain. Trelawney opened her mouth as her head tilted to the side, and began to speak.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born under stars older in years, born with the vision not ours to see…and the Dark Lord will mark them as their equal, but they will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…for he will not live while they survive, and they will not live while he survives…"

Trelawney's head snapped back and she began to cough, and immediately Hermione snatched her hand away. She cradled her hand against her chest and glanced fearfully at Sirius, who was shocked into silence.

Trelawney cleared her throat and glanced back and forth between Hermione and Sirius. "So sorry, dears, did I miss something?"

Hermione backed out of the inn and ran, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She could hear Sirius running behind her and she stopped once they were far away from the Three Broomsticks.

"What," Sirius panted, "was that?"

Hermione shook her head wildly, unable to speak. What the hell was going on? What the—what the hell was going on!

"She just made a prophecy," said Hermione tremulously, her body shaking. "She…she made a prophecy…about me…us…or…" A lump formed in her throat as the words of the prophecy repeated over and over in her head, twisting and gnarling into uneven seams, and Hermione clutched her hair tightly until sparks of pain shot from her scalp. Lightheaded and dizzy, Hermione staggered backwards and nearly fell had Sirius not been nearby. He grabbed her arms and steadied her.

"What do you mean, about you? How could that be about you? And us?"

Hermione's eyes darted around Hogsmeade fretfully. "We need to get out of here, we need to leave now, this doesn't feel right—" Hermione's words were cut off as a violent tremor ran through her body, causing her to shout in pain.

"Shit! Hermione, what—!"

Hermione gritted her teeth at the familiar tremors, the same she had felt in the carriages last year; the aftereffects of a Cruciatus Curse she'd never actually been hit with….

"Fine—I'm—fine—" Hermione gasped. She dropped to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. What does this mean? What does this mean? Why is this happening now!

Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind she knew there was a connection behind all this, there was something the universe was trying to tell her, but she was too frightened to piece it together.

"We need to get you out of here," Sirius said firmly, and helped her up. "James and the rest can manage on their own. Let's go."

He slung her arm around his neck and helped her to her feet. Hermione tried to calm down as faint tremors racked her frame. They lumbered past several shops unsteadily, Sirius keeping a firm grip on her waist as they walked. They made a sharp turn to a path that would lead them towards the castle, where they were confronted with a towering, hooded figure.

"Night night," the figure hissed softly, and raised its wand.

Hermione's eyes widened in terror as she saw the tip of the wand ignite red, and she pushed Sirius away.

Behind them screams started to fill the air, and Hermione whipped out her wand and shot spell after spell at the hooded figure, ignoring the searing pain in her hand and body. Sirius had caught his bearings and had his wand out and firing at another hooded figure sweeping nearby. Within moments both of them fell unconscious into the snow, leaving a panting Sirius and Hermione.

The echoing screams behind them were drowned by roaring flames as tall and towering as skyscrapers.

"We need to help them," Sirius shouted.

They ran back and saw more hooded figures in black than Hermione could count, and her heart sank as reality dawned on her. This was the Death Eater meeting all along.

Students were screaming and running, third-years frozen in absolute shock and the shop owners battling down the Death Eaters as well as the flames engulfing their shops. Sirius and Hermione stood no chance fighting against such an organized force when there were students on every corner getting hit and a fire spiraling out of control.

"Come on, come on, get out! RUN!" Hermione shouted at the terrified students. Sirius blasted a Death Eater clean off their feet and helped up a Ravenclaw who was bleeding profusely from his arm. Hermione blocked a jinx and fired back, watching her opponent crumple to the ground.

She turned around focused on the flames and knew it was fiendfyre immediately. Raising her wand high in the air, she slashed it quickly into a practiced move that was now second nature to Hermione. Almost instantly, the flames vanished.

The crowd around her grew smaller and smaller until Sirius gripped her arm and they began to run back to the castle. They staggered to a halt when a figure appeared before them, just by the entrance pathway that led to the castle.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

Hermione and Sirius both fired a curse the same time as the figure shot his. Sirius cried out and fell against her, causing them to crash into the ground.

Flat on the ground and pinned by Sirius's body, Hermione raised her wand at the hooded figure and screamed, "REDUCTO!"

It disappeared. Hermione panted breathlessly under the weight of Sirius's motionless body. She felt warmth starting to seep into her clothes and froze.

"Sirius?"

No reply came. Hermione shifted a little and pushed at Sirius's shoulders, turning him over to his side and lifting him off herself. She let out a cry at the sight before her; blood was pooling into the white snow from Sirius's chest and arms, as if someone had taken a sword and slashed viciously all across his body.

"No, no…" Hermione lifted his arm to feel for a pulse, but his wrist was too badly damaged. Pushing her fear aside, Hermione pointed her wand at Sirius's torso.

"Vulnera sanentur," she breathed, watching the blood flow start to ease up. "Vulnera sanentur…Vulnera sanentur…."

Sirius sighed deeply, and Hermione almost wept in relief. Staggering to her feet, she pointed her wand at Sirius again and incanted clearly, "Levicorpus."

Slowly, with Sirius's body hovering beside her, Hermione walked to the castle.

xxx

The first thing Sirius noted was that he was not in pain. Which was...odd, because he distinctly remembered being in a lot of pain before. Before, before before…what?

He licked his dry lips and noticed it tasted like rust, metallic and coarse against his tongue. Unpleasant. He needed that lip balm James gave him as a Christmas gift years ago—

The thought of James brought his memories rushing forward like a flowing stream and he gasped, his eyes flying open.

White familiar walls, soft linen sheets he's slept in far too often. The hospital wasn't his favorite place, but it was comfortable at least…his vision was somewhat blurry still, but he realized immediately that someone was sitting beside him. Someone with very unmanageable hair.

When his vision cleared, his eyes settled on the calm, still figure that was Hermione Granger. She was watching Sirius silently, but behind the cool exterior he could see traces of something he was afraid to know.

"Hermione," he croaked. Sirius tried again, clearing his throat. "Hermione."

She smiled a little. "Sirius."

"What…happened?"

Hermione's smile faded. "You were hurt. Someone cast a very terrible curse at you. You've been sleeping for a while."

"You saved me," he stated. Hermione nodded.

"I knew the curse. Someone at my school used it once."

Sirius fell silent. Then, after a while, he said, "Is everyone safe?"

Sirius watched in horror as her eyes filled. She shook her head and assured him quickly, "Yes. Yes, everyone is safe. No one's been seriously injured…everyone is alive."

Sirius sighed in relief and closed his eyes. "Thank Merlin." He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione again. "What is it, then? Why do you look so put out? Everyone's safe!"

Hermione's lower lip trembled, but she bit on it and shook her head. "No. No, Sirius…no one is safe. No one will ever be safe until this all ends." Sirius tilted his head uncomprehendingly, and a flash of anger crossed Hermione's eyes. "You almost died, Sirius! You were as good as dead! If I hadn't known the counter spell for Sectumsempra you wouldn't be living right now, do you understand that?"

Sirius stared back at her in surprise. "I'm not dead, Hermione."

"But you could have been," she said fiercely. "You could have been."

Sirius watched Hermione curiously as she ran her hands across her face, digging her fingers into her hair and hunching over, as if she wanted nothing more than to curl in onto herself. But she did not; she dropped her hands to her sides and sat straight in her seat beside him, and looked at him directly in the eye.

"It's time I put aside my selfishness, Sirius. What happened in Hogsmeade is proof more than ever that it is time." She squared her jaw and said, "It's time you know who I really am."

 

Notes:

NOTE: Parts of this chapter used semi-direct lines from the Harry Potter books and movies; these lines belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, and were used to further the plot of this fanfiction only.

Well then!

Consider this chapter a metaphorical end to the first segment of Sands of Destiny, and Phase Two has begun. This is what I've been building up to for three years now, and you have no idea how excited I am now that I can finally write all the things we've been waiting for.

An overwhelming thank you to hinatas for beta'ing, critiquing, and overall being the best soundboard a writer could ask for.

Chapter 17: And Begin Again

Chapter 17

And Begin Again

xxx

His bag was weighed down by the thick, black cloak hidden inside, but Severus barely noticed. His eyes were currently trained on the boy in front of him, walking slowly with the crowd of terrified students emerging from the shops of Hogsmeade and back to Hogwarts. It hadn't been difficult assimilating into the groups of students, and Severus looked forward to locking himself in the Slytherin bathroom and washing away the dirt on his hands. But first thing's first.

Severus could hear McGonagall barking out orders in the distance. His eyes shifted over to Avery and Mulciber strolling lazily beside him, an unmistakable air of satisfaction upon them. His stomach turned at the sight and he looked away, training his eyes back to the boy a few paces ahead of him.

When Hogwarts came in sight the students all but ran to the castle, and Severus joined them. He passed through the Entrance hall and swept into the dungeons, following the figure before him. Just as they approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Severus grabbed a fistful of robes and spun the figure around.

"What the f—"

Severus didn't allow him to finish; casting a quick Silencing charm, he dragged the boy into a broom cupboard and tossed him to the ground.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Severus roared.

Regulus shrank back at the volume of his voice but continued to scowl. "What?" he shouted.

"You dared? You dared use my own spell in a duel as a Death Eater? You bloody fool!" Severus kicked Regulus's leg hard, causing him to yelp. "What if they trace it back to me? Do you ever think? Is the space above your brow just a compartment of dust? I didn't teach you that spell so you could use it on whoever you liked! It's defensive only, against the Death Eaters should they find you out!"

Regulus jumped to his feet, panting furiously. "I had to use it, it had to seem real!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Idiot boy!"

Regulus ducked when Severus moved to slap him in the head. Regulus growled, "You have no idea what task I have, the burden I carry! I just saved my family!"

"By what? Attempting to murder your brother?"

"Yes."

Severus stopped. He looked at Regulus oddly. "What did the Dark Lord say to you?"

Regulus swallowed thickly, still trying to catch his breath. Finally he said, "He—he didn't like what he saw in my mind during the initiation, I-I didn't Occlude well enough—and this was what I had to do. I had to do whatever it took to save my family."

"And trying to kill Sirius would prove your loyalty," Severus concluded. Regulus nodded grimly, looking away.

The anger slowly dissipated from Severus's body, leaving him weary. "Why Sectumsempra? There are other curses, Regulus."

"It's the darkest spell I know," said Regulus. It was Severus who looked away then. "Besides," Regulus continued, "I knew the countercurse. And you weren't far behind me. I wouldn't have…you know..."

"Right," said Severus reluctantly. The idea of saving Sirius Black's life didn't much tickle his fancy, but he realized he would have done it anyway. "Right, well. Let's go get cleaned up."

xxx

In the Hospital wing, Hermione stared at Sirius steadfastly.

There was solitude in her gaze; a sharp, detached coldness that made the ends of Sirius's hairs rise. She was silently daring him to challenge her, and it left him speechless.

The door to the infirmary opened and the sweeping figure of Madam Pomfrey strode to Sirius's bedside.

"I see you're awake," she said briskly as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "The fever's broken. Everything else seems to be in order…"

"How long have I been in here?" Sirius asked.

"A few hours." Pomfrey paused in her hurried movements and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "You're alright, dear. Drink this and then soon you can head back to your dormitory. There's plenty still of time until dinner. I suspect Dumbledore has quite a few things to say tonight..."

Sirius nodded dazedly as Pomfrey pressed a cup in his hands, and it was only then that he realized Hermione was no longer sitting beside him; some time after Pomfrey barged in the room, she'd slipped away.

"Drink," Pomfrey ordered.

He raised the cup and drank deeply, licking his lips at the pleasant taste.

"Good," she took the cup from him and started cleaning up. "Now rest."

Sirius wanted to protest but found he lacked the energy to. His body was still worn out from the beating it took today, and there were so many questions in his head that he exhausted his mind into a slumber.

Somewhere between sleeping and waking Sirius dreamed of a dark globe looming over him, and he cracked his eyes open to see the globe turn into a head of raven hair and pale grey eyes hovering by his bed.

"Reggie?" he croaked, blinking sleepily. Regulus's eyes widened and suddenly he disappeared. Sirius closed his eyes and turned over, falling asleep again.

The third time he woke up Madame Pomfrey was cleaning up the table next to his bed. "How're you feeling?" she prompted.

Sirius assessed himself for a moment. "Much better."

"Excellent. Your things are ready for you at the end of the bed, and you are free to leave."

Sirius watched Pomfrey disappear in the back room before staring up at the ceiling in confusion. So much had happened in such a short span of time, and Sirius was still reeling with questions. Had he dreamed Regulus was beside him? Or had he actually paid him a visit?

Shaking his head in confusion, Sirius slid off the bed and changed into his freshly laundered clothes, then wandered to the door. He passed by rows and rows of identical beds that were all occupied, soft groans and labored breath coming from behind the curtains. His heart sank, but he was glad they were unharmed for the most part...they were alive and well, and that was what mattered. He reached for the doorknob and turned it.

When the door to the infirmary swung open, Sirius was surprised to see James, Peter, and Remus waiting around the door. Peter was sitting down while James and Remus were leaning against the wall, and glancing up when Sirius stepped through the door.

"Sirius!" Remus rushed to Sirius and drew him into a tight hug. Sirius welcomed the embrace as James and Peter joined in, smiling warmly at the explosion of affection lifting his heart.

"Why were you waiting outside?" Sirius asked as they pulled away.

James scowled. "Pomfrey kicked us out. Said we were disturbing you."

"Which we weren't," said Peter irritably. "We were just sitting around."

"I think the vulgar language might've set her off," Remus added delicately, to which James snorted.

"I'd say, haven't heard you talk like that since we found you and—"

"So what happened in there?" Remus asked Sirius concernedly, quickly cutting off James.

Sirius's smile dropped, his thoughts conflicted again. "Well, I woke up. Didn't know what the hell was going on…then Pomfrey came and gave me a tonic and set me out. I'm not…entirely sure what's going on, to be honest."

He didn't know why he omitted Hermione from his explanation, but something stopped him from mentioning her. Remus nodded. "Let's head back to the dormitory and we'll tell you the rest there."

They walked briskly to Gryffindor tower, the corridors mostly empty as their footsteps echoed along the walls. Sirius winced as twinges of pain sparked down his torso with every step, but he pressed his mouth firmly in a line and tried controlling his slight limp. Once in the privacy of their dorm, James helped Sirius into his bed and then plopped down right next to him. Remus and Peter followed, making a semicircle of curious friends around Sirius.

"So," Sirius began tentatively, "can you, I guess, tell me what happened? From the beginning? Hermione and I tried finding you in Hogsmeade, we tried getting you out—"

"Slow down," said James. "We'll tell you what we know. Mind you, it's not much." He briefly exchanged glances with Remus and Peter before turning back to Sirius. "We went off to Honeydukes like we planned to, walked around a bit…but something felt off. I can't explain it, but we just had this feeling…"

"I felt it too," Sirius nodded. "It's what made us start looking for you."

"Yeah, well, didn't do us much good, did it?" Remus scowled. "Next thing we knew we heard screams and sounds of spells being thrown. We went outside and saw one of the buildings was set on fire."

"And then we tried to get back to Hogwarts but the barman at the Hog's Head pulled us in—and a quite a lot of other students, actually—and made us hide out in the cellar," James finished. "We were let out when McGonagall showed up. I've never seen her so furious."

Sirius nodded, letting everything they said sink in. "Did you have to fight off any Death Eaters?"

"No, but I would've liked to show 'em some of the hexes I know," said James fiercely. "It was bloody overrun with them! Why the hell would they target Hogsmeade?"

"Why not?" asked Remus. "Think about it. Where else is there a dense population of witches and wizards at this time of year? The village is always bustling and full, and it's the perfect place for a group of people to slip in and wreak havoc."

"Plus it's really close to Hogwarts, and we all know You-Know-Who doesn't exactly hide his hatred for Dumbledore and the school," Peter added knowingly.

"You fought them off, though," James said quietly, and a hush fell over the group. "Hermione told us. We saw you in the Hospital wing."

Sirius swallowed. "Did…did she tell you what happened?"

"She was really shaken when she walked through Hogwarts," said Remus mutedly. "I heard from some fifth years that she strode through the front doors with your body suspended in the air, gliding next to her…she headed straight to the infirmary and Dumbledore was on her in an instant."

"When we finally got to see you, she told us what had happened," James continued quickly. "How the Death Eaters came out of nowhere and started attacking, how both of you fought them off and tried sending everyone to safety. And then you got hit by a dark curse..."

"And she saved me," Sirius finished quietly. "I know that part."

"But it doesn't make sense," said Peter, looking quite unnerved, "Hermione is supposed to be in on these things, right? Snape and Regulus, they're part of that now, they would've said something, especially if they were planning to attack. Why didn't they tell her?"

James widened his eyes. "D'you think this means they aren't really on her side? That git—should've known you could never trust him—"

"Hermione knew they would be at Hogsmeade," Sirius interrupted.

James and Remus were stunned. Peter spluttered, "How do you know that? W-why didn't she say anything?"

"She told me on our way to Hogsmeade, when we broke off from you. She said there'd be a meeting. Not this." Sirius shifted in discomfort as he took in the worried looks around him.

"Then one thing is certain," said Remus, looking shaken. "Someone was lying."

xxx

Sirius did not see Hermione until dinner. The announcement was made earlier that attendance to the feast was mandatory, just as Pomfrey had suspected. When she arrived she immediately took her regular seat next to Sirius, giving him an encouraging smile and asking how he was. Something in her eyes warned him not to ask any questions from before, so he looked at her for a moment before muttering that he felt fine.

Dumbledore was seated at the head of the table, remaining silent until all the food and plates were cleared away. A hush fell over the students as they watched him expectantly.

He rose slowly and walked around the table until he stood directly before them.

"As many of us already know, Hogsmeade was attacked today."

His watery blue eyes scanned the Great Hall calmly, lingering on the Gryffindor table for a moment before continuing. "Thanks to the help of Hogsmeade's staff and patrons, as well as several brave upperclassmen, there were no severe fatalities. In light of these events, however, I feel I must tell you what you may have already guessed." His kindly expression grew stern. "Dark forces have been gathering and growing stronger by the day. The Daily Prophet has told us some of the tragedies resulting from it, but this is only the beginning. It is not safe anymore. There are people who will try to hurt you without reason, and I must emphasize that you must be ready."

A chilling disquiet stretched between them, and finally Dumbledore's gaze softened and he smiled a little. "I can assure you, however, that while you are in Hogwarts, no harm shall come to you. The choices you make beyond this are your own."

Confused murmurs spread around the Great Hall when Dumbledore stepped back and resumed his seat at the high table.

"What d'you suppose he means by the choices we make?" Sirius asked under his breath as they began filing out of the Great Hall.

Hermione's mouth pressed thinly, muttering, "I wouldn't know."

xxx

But of course she did.

Several hours earlier when Hermione had stormed through the entrance hall with Sirius's motionless body gliding beside her, Dumbledore had appeared before her in an instant.

"We'll take it from here, Miss Granger," he said quietly as Madam Pomfrey rushed towards them and gazed at Sirius with unveiled perplexity.

"He was hit with a dark curse," Hermione informed Pomfrey. "A sort of—of slicing curse that cuts every inch of your body. I managed to reverse the effects but he's still really hurt, the internal damage—" Hermione broke off, pressing her lips in a firm line that suddenly began to tremble.

"Thank you, dear," replied Pomfrey gently, raising her wand. Hermione did not protest as Sirius's body was gently floated towards the Hospital wing, but felt a hand stop her when she tried to follow.

"I need to be there with him," said Hermione firmly as she looked up at Dumbledore.

"He will be there when you return. Right now I must ask you some questions."

Irrational fury bubbled inside her but she quickly stamped it down. If she let him see how emotionally compromised she was, he would surely stop her from seeing Sirius even sooner. Nodding curtly, she followed Dumbledore as he led her to a winged gargoyle.

"Licorice wand," he called, and the gargoyle sprung to the side, revealing a set of spiraling stairs. They walked up in silence until they reached Dumbledore's office.

"Please sit, Miss Granger."

Hermione carefully sat down on the chair before Dumbledore's desk. The last time she was here was when he sorted her privately into Gryffindor, giving her his condolences on the death of her family. She never realized how much she disliked being in his office until now.

As if reading her thoughts, Dumbledore mentioned, "For years I've tried making the Headmaster's office a kinder room to be in, but I'm afraid my efforts went to waste. Even I find it too quiet in here."

Hermione said nothing. Dumbledore's pleasant gaze did not waver. "Several professors and Hogsmeade workers recounted the events that transpired today, but I would like to know what happened while you were there."

Hermione shifted nervously. "We were attacked, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, and she continued.

"We—Sirius and I were looking for our friends when they came. It was very sudden, and I don't know what happened first—just that there was a fire and curses were being thrown by figures in black cloaks. Death Eaters, sir."

Dumbledore nodded again, as if already knowing this. "And then Mr. Black was cursed."

"Yes, we were fighting them off and trying to get everyone back up to Hogwarts, the third-years were really frightened…" she looked away, unable to take Dumbledore's penetrating gaze anymore. "One snuck up on us and he attacked Sirius. I jinxed him and then immediately brought Sirius to the castle. That's all."

Dumbledore nodded again, taking in her words carefully. "Did you notice the cloaked figures when you arrived at Hogsmeade?"

Hermione frowned in thought. "No, I didn't see them when we reached Hogsmeade. They just came…without warning."

Dumbledore didn't reply as Hermione's frown deepened. Now that the adrenaline of the fight and rescuing Sirius was dissipating, Hermione thought back to the Death Eater attack. Severus hadn't mentioned this would happen, not even a hint of worry about it—did it mean he hadn't expected it? Surely if it was this dangerous, he wouldn't…he wouldn't have let her come…surely…

But the hooded figure that cursed Sirius appeared in her mind, and Hermione's jaw tightened grimly. The spell that Severus Snape had invented in his sixth year at Hogwarts, the same spell Harry had used on Draco Malfoy during a duel in his sixth year, had now been used on Sirius.

"Is there something troubling you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blinked, looking back at Dumbledore.

"No sir, just—just worried about Sirius."

Dumbledore scrutinized Hermione for a moment, as if hoping she would voice the things left unsaid in her words. "I hope you know that anything discussed in this office will not leave these four walls. I know your time at Hogwarts since your arrival has not been easy, and you may rest assured that should you need help, you are always welcome here. The choice belongs to you."

Hermione was taken aback. "Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

Dumbledore nodded dismissively. "That is all for today."

Looking at Dumbledore oddly, Hermione rose from the chair and left his office. As she walked to the Hospital wing she wondered if Dumbledore did more than just guess at what was going through her mind.

Throughout Dumbledore's speech at dinner and then at his parting words, Hermione was certain Dumbledore knew something more of what happened at Hogsmeade. At Sirius's question she answered vaguely, knowing that revealing anything now would not be good for either of them. But they had to talk, and soon.

The hairs at the back of her neck prickled, and Hermione had the feeling that she was being watched. Instinctively her head turned to the right and she caught Severus's gaze, whose stare was boring through her with a wide, meaningful look. Scowling, Hermione turned away and grabbed Sirius's arm.

"Meet me at midnight in the common room."

Sirius frowned instantly and began to protest but they fell to deaf ears, for Hermione was already weaving her way through the crowd of students and shifting closer to the Slytherin end of the hall. She glanced around impatiently until she caught Severus's eyes again, and she looked at him darkly and inclined her head before turning back around and marching out of the Great Hall.

She walked along the mass of students that were gathering towards the grand staircase, but slipped quietly away from them and rounded a corner. She paused briefly to look behind her, and surely enough a head of dark hair was slowly parting from the crowd of students heading towards the dungeons. Hermione quickly sprinted forward and darted into the nearest empty classroom.

The door opened quietly a few minutes later, a dark head peeking inside, and Hermione grabbed a fistful of green robes before hauling him inside the classroom.

Severus staggered as Hermione flicked her wand and locked the door. Wide eyes flickered to the end of the wand, swallowing when it didn't lower.

"Why sectumsempra?" Her voice was cutting and even. "Of all the spells, why that one?"

"Well this is déjà vu," Severus panted, gobsmacked. "How did you know what it was?"

"I'm from the future, Severus."

She could see the questions swimming in his eyes, but he swallowed convulsively and shook his head. "It wasn't me."

"I'm sorry?"

"It wasn't me," Severus repeated. He backed away when Hermione's grip tightened on her wand, but he gritted his teeth and said, "Read me."

"Who was it then?" Hermione ignored his last words. "Considering the timeline, I'd say you just came up with that spell a few weeks ago. Wanted to try it out, I suppose."

Severus was furious. "You think I'm not bloody upset by this? I wasn't told—and bloody Black—" Hermione's eyes narrowed, and Severus added quickly, "Regulus. It was Regulus who used my spell. I didn't know he would use it against Sirius."

"…Why did he do it?"

Severus sighed, glancing down and slowly slumping onto a chair. "It's complicated." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, propping his elbows on the desk in front of him and pressing his palms against his forehead. When he looked up at Hermione, he was shocked at the darkness in her gaze.

"You don't believe me," he said resentfully.

"I'm angry," Hermione snapped. "And you need to give me straight answers, Severus. From the beginning."

Severus glared back at her. "Why don't you just read me, Hermione, since it seems anything I say will do little to improve your trust in me."

"I didn't think I needed to use legilimens on you to believe you, Severus," Hermione scowled. "For god's sake, Severus, just tell me what happened! Why did the Death Eaters decide to attack Hogsmeade? Did you know about it? And why did Regulus try to kill Sirius? Yes, I know exactly what that spell can do; I know how dangerous it is! The fact that you still came up with it, even now—" she broke off, swallowing hard.

Severus's hands clenched into fists as he watched her struggle internally. "It was supposed to be just a meeting," he said quietly. "If it was anything dangerous I would've told you. You know that."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, nodding after a beat. Slowly she walked forward and sat in the chair across him. "I know," she said finally, looking very tired. "I know you wouldn't put us deliberately in danger. I know that."

Severus shifted a little. "I didn't think—we weren't told what would happen once we got there. We gathered in a small room that skirted the village where the rest of the Death Eaters were waiting for us. They said this was our initiation."

"Initiation?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "Didn't that already happen in the summer?"

"No, that was different. This was a test of loyalty," Severus looked down at his hands, flexing them. "The attack on Hogsmeade was our rite of passage."

Hermione looked at Severus searchingly, hundred questions flitting through her. Their attention both snapped to the door when it slowly opened.

"Lily?" Hermione said in surprise.

"I thought I saw someone come this way," Lily frowned. "Come on, get back to your rooms. I'll be starting prefect rounds soon."

Severus nodded curtly, his eyes not meeting Lily's. He strode out of the room without looking back, leaving Hermione to trail behind him. As she passed Lily, she caught Hermione's arm gently.

"Are you alright?" she asked, worry visible in her gaze.

Hermione smiled a little. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

Lily smiled back. "I won't be done with rounds until late, but are you up for a cuppa with me tomorrow? Being the weekend and all, we could have a late morning in…"

A rush of warmth filled Hermione. "Yes," she said gratefully. "Yes, I think I'd really like that."

xxx

Sirius tossed around his bed fitfully, his eyes wandering to his watch every few minutes. His stomach twisted in knots, feeling almost jittery with anxiety. He glanced over to James and Peter's beds, envying their still silence.

He looked at his watch again and decided it was nearly time enough, and slowly sat up. He winced as pain radiated in his abdomen. Pomfrey had patched him up splendidly, but there were still things that the body had to do on its own, and feeling residual pain from being slashed three hundred times was hardly unusual. Still, it was irritating as he had to stifle groans while putting on a warm night robe. Grabbing his wand from under his pillow, Sirius quietly opened the door to the boys' dormitory and crept downstairs.

The common room was silent and the fireplace was long since extinguished, but he knew he was not alone. There was a silhouette by an armchair facing the window, and it shifted at Sirius's arrival. Hermione's head popped out from the armchair.

"You're early," she noted.

Sirius shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. "I know the feeling."

He watched as Hermione stood up and brushed her night robe, shivering a little. "Let's go, then."

Sirius started. "Sorry?"

Hermione gave him a dry look. "You didn't think we'd stay here, did you?"

"Erm…"

Hermione shook her head and went towards the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was snoring loudly when they crept out, and Sirius closed the door softly behind him.

"Where are we going?" Sirius whispered, and Hermione shushed him scoldingly, motioning for him to follow. They were still on the seventh floor, Sirius realized, as they weaved stealthily along the corridors. When Hermione stopped in front of a familiar wall, understanding dawned on Sirius.

Hermione was standing still before the wall, her eyes closed in concentration. She breathed in evenly, and slowly the wall began to change, and a white wooden door came into form. Hermione swallowed and went to turn the knob, and Sirius caught the tremble in her fingers.

Sirius glanced around and saw an unexpectedly tidy room. It was comfortable and clean, with white linen bed sheets on a bed and a desk shoved in front of a window. The walls were lined with bookcases, and Sirius wandered over to one nearest to the door. There were dozens of books with titles he did not recognize and authors he'd never heard of before.

"Interesting room," he said as he walked over to the set of chairs in front of the desk where Hermione was sitting.

"It was mine," Hermione replied. "Before I came to the Potters."

Sirius had guessed this, and nodded as he took a seat.

She lifted her wand and flicked it every few seconds silently. When she was done she carefully put away her wand stared at him resolutely, unflinching, waiting.

"What did you just do?"

"Silencing charm," Hermione said evenly. "And a few wards. I know the Room of Requirement already takes care of that for us, but I don't want to take any chances. I don't want us to be disturbed during this."

Sirius looked at her warily. "What is this about?"

Hermione's smile was forced. "Ironic, really. The time I finally pluck up the courage to tell you the truth, you want nothing to do with it." She lowered her gaze briefly, as if mentally preparing herself.

Sirius glanced idly around and perked up when he saw several picture frames sitting at the far end of the desk.

"Little Hermione!" Sirius exclaimed as he picked one up. It looked to be before Hermione went to a Wizarding school, wearing a muggle school uniform. There was another one sitting closer to him, as if frequently picked up and cleaned. Hermione said nothing as he reached for it.

Sirius was still smiling as he looked at it, but it faded the longer he stared at the photograph. There were three people in the picture; Hermione stood beside a boy with flaming red hair, and the third person—

Sirius scowled when he saw the Gryffindor ties and the Hogwarts emblem.

"What—what is this?" said Sirius in shock. "This can't be—you're wearing a Hogwarts uniform. You can't be more than twelve here, and…and this boy—"

"Looks a lot like James, doesn't he?" Hermione finished for him, seemingly unperturbed by his questions. It was as if she was resigned, making Sirius even more uneasy.

"What is this, Hermione?"

Hermione looked Sirius in the eye.

"In the summer of 1971, you and your mother were in Diagon Alley. Your mother paid a visit to Knockturn Alley as you sat along the edge of the entrance, and it was there that you saw a girl."

Sirius's heart was beating fast, a feeling of dread coming over him. Hermione continued, "You recognized me as that girl last year. That night on the train where we first met properly. The girl you hadn't seen in five years, someone who hasn't aged a day since."

"Hermione…"

Hermione shook her head warningly. "Just listen." Sirius nodded weakly. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm eighteen years old, and I was born on 19 September, 1979. Last summer I woke up in James Potter's home and realized fate had written me to be his adopted sister."

Sirius blinked several times incredulously. "You're barking."

"Am I? You knew from the start there was something off about me. Your instincts told you that you'd seen me before. Last Christmas you saw the scar on my knee and recognized it immediately, you know I've been hiding something for a long time. And you were right. This is the truth. I—" Hermione broke off, but forced herself to keep going. "I am a time traveler. I used the Sands of Destiny to go twenty years into the past, your past, to stop Voldemort from rising to power."

She could see she was overwhelming Sirius, but he did not utter a word. He sat in the chair of her old bedroom quietly, looking at her and looking away and glancing around the room. His bewildered expression was settling into one of curiosity, and he swallowed thickly.

"What are the Sands of Destiny?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

Hermione blinked in surprise, then replied in a rush, "It's red sand in a Time-Turner used to travel further back than the normal Sands of Time allow. Dumbledore gave it to me at the end of my sixth year after he failed to use it correctly, he made a kind of paradox I think, and his life was ending—" at Sirius's perplexed look, Hermione slowed down. "Dumbledore used the Time-Turner before me to look into the future instead of the past, and saw Voldemort's triumph. He asked me to help him change that."

Sirius absorbed her words slowly. "But the Potters adopting you, your parents dying before the start of last year, all these things happened. How could a Time-Turner change that?"

"It's not like a regular Time-Turner," Hermione explained, though still bewildered at Sirius's response. This conversation was not at all in the direction she'd predicted it would go. "It's just as the title says; it rewrites destiny. My destiny. It changed fate and time to fit me into this decade. Everything that happened as a result of my arrival is real. In this time, the Potters knew my family and adopted me after they were killed. The Granger family is dead, preventing my parents from ever giving birth to me the year I should've been born."

Sirius closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his face into his hands. It was a lot to take in and Hermione wasn't being particularly gentle about it, but there was no conceivable way to tell someone she was a time traveler without overwhelming them. In another light, and another time, she would've found the ordeal amusing.

"Did you get to say goodbye?" he asked suddenly.

"I—what?"

"Your parents," Sirius dropped his hands and stared at her. "Your friends. Those two boys in that photograph. Did you get to say goodbye before you came here?"

Hermione blinked rapidly. Slowly she shook her head once. "No," she said faintly, "I didn't."

Sirius mouth curved downwards. "Can you ever go back?"

Her heart began to ache as she replied inaudibly, "No. Never."

Genuine pain reflected in Sirius's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Hermione looked at him disbelievingly as he looked away distantly. After several minutes she couldn't hold it in any longer. "That's it?" she blurted, and Sirius returned his focus on her. "After hearing the truth, that's what you had to say?"

"Sorry?" Sirius repeated in confusion.

"You—you believe me? You're just taking what I say as truth?" Hermione said almost accusingly, and Sirius frowned.

"Why would you lie about this?" said Sirius curiously.

"I—" Hermione fretted. "Aren't you going to ask me something? Anything? You're just—you're just sitting there!"

"It almost sounds like you want me to not believe you," said Sirius bemusedly.

"No, no of course not…" Sirius raised an eyebrow as Hermione gazed at him uncertainly, "I guess, I don't know. I expected something different." She looked down. "I didn't expect you to believe me right away."

"I didn't," Sirius reminded. "I thought you were barking mad at first, but it makes sense. I still have a lot of questions, but…it fits. The thing with seeing you at Diagon Alley, the scar on your knee. Your involvement with bringing the Death Eaters down. It makes sense. Your story is mad, but I believe you."

When she looked at him again, and saw truth and solidarity reflecting back at her, it was as if an invisible weight lifted from her and made her feel suddenly lightheaded. Telling Severus about herself had been a relief, cathartic even. But this—telling Sirius, without argument, without anger and heat and distrust, without exhausting herself to convince him she wasn't a threat or a danger, without the fear of complete rejection and losing a friend again—this was something entirely different. It was something new.

It was who Sirius was now. Someone who believed in her unconditionally.

She began to cry.

"Whoa, whoa, Hermione!" Sirius immediately jumped from his chair and hovered unsurely by her side, hands fidgeting as if wanting to reach out to her but afraid of doing so. He settled with just kneeling on the floor beside her and gripping the back of her chair as breathless sobs broke through her.

"Please don't cry," Sirius implored as he flailed about. He reached out and tentatively patted her back so softly she hardly felt it, but it didn't matter. She would never forget the look of shock on his face when Hermione lifted her head and was smiling so warmly it made his heart leap in his chest.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. As if finally realizing her disposition, Hermione quickly scrubbed her face with her hands, erasing the last of her brief breakdown. Sirius was still watching her worriedly when she turned to him.

"Sorry about that," she said sheepishly. "I don't know what came over me. Haven't cried in ages…it felt nice, though."

"Then you needed it," Sirius replied simply. "There's no need to be sorry for crying."

"I cried too much last year," Hermione said wearily. "I was tired of it. But you might be right, I did need that."

He nodded encouragingly, smiling a little. Sirius glanced down and cleared his throat. "Well," he rose to his feet. "What now?"

Hermione shrugged tiredly. "I guess I should go over the details now. So you know everything. So I can help you…so you can help me." The last part was spoken very softly, and she could feel Sirius staring down at her.

"Then we'd better get to it," said Sirius. "But my bum can't take sitting in that chair much longer. I don't know how you spent your childhood in it."

A laugh bubbled up out of Hermione and she grinned, "Fine, no chairs. The bed should do."

xxx

"Blimey," Sirius breathed. It was now well past two in the morning, and Sirius and Hermione were sitting comfortably on the bed, a plate of biscuits between them. They'd taken the liberty of asking for a bigger mattress, and the room accommodated them accordingly.

Hermione had explained everything relatively easily, even telling him about her intervention with Severus, while Sirius listened quietly and asking questions only when she finished her story. Surprisingly, none of them were about events pertaining to his future.

"Harry Potter," Sirius repeated, as if testing the name. A smile lifted the corner of his lips. "Your friendship with the Potters lasted lifetimes. That's incredible."

Hermione beamed. "It is kind of incredible, isn't it? I mean, this fate or whatever didn't have to have me as James's sister, but somehow it did. What were the odds?"

"Nah, I think it goes beyond that," said Sirius. "Even if you weren't his sister, and you ended up being, I dunno, Frank Longbottom's cousin, you and James would've still been friends. I'm serious," Sirius grinned when Hermione suppressed a laugh. "Yeah he was a tosspot last year but everyone's a tosspot at fifteen, but we get past that."

"You'd know," Hermione said boldly, and Sirius merely nodded.

"I accept that. God you must've been pulling hairs trying to get through to us. And you're bloody eighteen now! You can do magic whenever you like! When is your birthday again?"

"September," Hermione answered. "And it was hard being here with you guys at first, but I got used to it. You're all so different here, and I think that's what threw me off."

"Are you going to tell them? James, Peter, Remus, Lily?" he asked carefully.

Hermione faltered. "I—I don't know," she admitted ruefully. "I honestly don't. Someday I will. I want to. But is it safe to tell so many people? It was hard enough telling Severus, let alone you. And look how much danger he's in now."

"We're in danger regardless. Just living right now is dangerous." Sirius said sensibly. "How many horcruxes do you think Voldemort's got left?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, from what I know, there's Helga Hufflepuff's cup, the Slytherin locket, and the Gaunt ring. There's a snake too but I'm not sure when Voldemort makes it a horcrux…and then all that's left is Voldemort himself."

Sirius shivered, unnerved. "How desperate does someone have to be to split his soul into seven pieces?"

"The only thing we can't conquer with magic is death," said Hermione plainly. "Well, that and making food from thin air, but I can't really picture the Dark Lord in a kitchen."

Sirius burst out laughing, and Hermione smiled as she stared up at the ceiling contentedly. A calm silence fell between them, and when it stretched too long Hermione glanced over to Sirius. His brows were furrowed fretfully, as if in deep thought.

"What is it?"

Sirius jumped. "What?"

"That there," Hermione said. "You want to say something, I can tell."

Sirius looked down uneasily, "Er no, not really."

Hermione gave him a stern look. "Sirius."

Sirius looked away again, as if gathering his courage. "You said the Sands of Destiny rewrote history and fate to fit you in this time, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Well…did it ever occur to you that maybe…the same thing happened with Dumbledore?"

Hermione stared at him blankly. "…What?"

"Dumbledore. You said he used that Time-Turner before handing it over to you. He went to the future and saw Voldemort's triumph. But…what if that's just how fate was written by the Time-Turner due to Dumbledore's presence at that time? What if it really wasn't meant to be that way? For all we know, if you had stayed, things could have been different. Harry, he might have won."

His words were met with silence. Hermione's mind had gone blank, Sirius's words washing over her with dread.

"I…I never…"

Sirius looked at Hermione unsurely. "I could be wrong."

Hermione's hands were shaking. She launched off the bed and began pacing, running her hands wildly through her hair. Finally she turned to him with wide, terrified eyes. "Oh my god."

Sirius immediately stilled. "Hermione. Hey, it's okay."

"No," Hermione shook her head violently. "No. No, you're right. It was Dumbledore. Dumbledore was the one who messed with the time stream. It—it had adjusted itself to fit Dumbledore in it, and in that fate it was Voldemort who won. Merlin, what if—what if he was wrong? What if Harry was actually supposed to win? Dumbledore couldn't know for sure, could he?" Sirius didn't reply. "I shouldn't have left. I should have left only when it was certain we'd lost."

She trudged weakly back to the bed and crumpled, her face the expression of agony. Sirius scooted closer to her carefully.

"It doesn't matter now, Hermione. Victory or not, you being here is sparing Harry a lifetime of suffering. It's sparing hundreds of lives from being brutally murdered by Voldemort and his followers. You're stopping him before he can do terrible damage, don't you see?"

"If I succeed," Hermione said numbly. "If I win. And if I don't, Harry will be dumped on the Dursley's doorstep again. Only this time, I won't be there as his friend."

"No," Sirius said bluntly. "I don't believe that. Things are already changing here, and it's because of you. You're going to win this, Hermione. Just look at yesterday!" Sirius shook his head incredulously. "That mad lady made a prophecy about you! And I'm sure that never happened in your proper time."

At the mention of the prophecy, Hermione instantly became alert. "The prophecy," she breathed. "I forgot all about it! Oh...yes, that never happened before, it'd been about Harry when I was in my time. But things have changed…"

"Do you remember what it said?" Sirius questioned.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But I need to see it again to make sure…god, we need a Pensieve."

"We'll add that to our list of things to do," Sirius said firmly. "For now, you need to focus on what's at hand, right here, right now. Best of all, you're not alone in this anymore."

Hermione snorted lightly. "Certainly not. Who would've thought Severus Snape would be my ally?"

At the mention of Severus's name, Sirius sobered.

"Was it really Regulus who cursed me with that spell?"

Hermione looked away from her hands and back at Sirius. His expression was neutral, but she could the see the turmoil boiling beneath the surface.

"Yes," she said sadly. "Severus told me after dinner when I cornered him."

She started slightly when she heard Sirius chuckle.

"That rat bastard," he said, a fierce smile twisting his face into one of anger. "I thought I dreamt it, but I was wrong. He visited me in the hospital wing."

"He did?"

"Yeah, after you left I saw him standing over me. Ran away the moment I started waking up." He shook his head bitterly. "I don't even know what to make of him anymore."

"There must be reason," Hermione said frustratedly. "Something that made him use that curse on you—you heard what he said right before he cast it, right? He apologized."

"He almost killed me, Hermione," said Sirius calmly.

"I know. It just seems too simple. I was angry before, but I can't help wondering if there's more to this than is being let on. I wish I could ask him."

"Why not ask Snape?"

Hermione chewed her lower lip. "I could. I just…I want to hear it from Regulus."

Sirius looked at Hermione thoughtfully. "We should expect this, though, right? He's a Death Eater. He has expectations to fulfill. We can't assume they'll be easy on us."

"Mm."

Sirius smirked. "Good response."

"Sorry, I'm just tired," Hermione smiled weakly. "We should go to bed."

Sirius nodded in agreement. They left the Room of Requirement (after Sirius did a thorough scour of all her books and pictures, much to Hermione's amusement) and snuck back into their dormitory. Just as they were going to depart, Sirius stopped her before she went up the stairs.

"Hermione," Sirius started, "you've considered being an Animagi, right? From what you've just told me?"

"Yes…?" said Hermione, not knowing where this was going.

"Well, I am one. An Animagus, that is."

"Yes I'm well aware, Sirius."

"So," Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets, "knowing what I do now, I think you're right. You have a big job on your hands, and you could use all the help you can get, even from yourself."

"Meaning?"

"I want to train you."

Hermione's eyebrows flew up. "Really?"

Sirius shifted awkwardly but nodded solemnly. "Yeah, really. You need to be able to defend yourself in any way, and being an Animagus can really be useful. I know you already have an affinity for it, right?"

"Yes, that's what McGonagall told me," Hermione recalled. "I looked up loads of stuff about it last year but just never got the chance to try it out."

"Well now you're going to start," said Sirius firmly. "Every day we're going to practice until you get it. It usually takes years to achieve, but I think you can do it."

Hermione smiled, bouncing nervously on her toes. "Yes, yes I would like that! Thank you," she said earnestly, making Sirius turn pink and shrug.

"Don't thank me yet." His voiced lowered an octave as his expression sharpened. "You're not alone in this, okay? Not even with the gathering and destroying horcruxes. Not with dealing with whatever shit's going on in that brilliant head of yours. Me, Snape, your friends, we're all here for you. I'm going to help you."

Hermione nodded as a lump formed in her throat. Swallowing it down, she whispered, "Okay."

Sirius smiled. "Good night, Hermione."

When Hermione slid into bed, she stared out the window and gazed at the night sky, wondering what it was like to be as old as the stars.

xxx

Lily Evans woke up every morning with a purpose.

Usually it went something like having breakfast, doing rounds for her prefect duties, attend classes, eat lunch in the library while studying with Alice and Amelia, more classes, dinner, and then study until she couldn't read another word. It was a good system, a reliable system that kept her at the top of the class, and Lily liked it this way.

This morning should have been the same, but when Lily's eyes opened at the first light of dawn, she knew today would be different.

Last night she went into a fitful slumber as the events at Hogsmeade plagued her mind. She'd been one of the few students who stayed out to fight the Death Eaters before getting pulled inside a shop for safety, but not without dragging two frightened third year Slytherins with her. And as she sat huddled with her classmates, young and old, she knew there had to be something more than this.

Hermione was still sleeping when Lily hopped out of bed, and Lily stretched her arms high over her head as she headed for the lavatory. Several girls were already awake and dressed, some standing sleepily in front of the mirror while holding a toothbrush halfway to their mouths, and Lily shook one awake who'd begun to snore with the brush hanging from her mouth.

By the time she was out Hermione was wide awake and dressed for the day. Lily was still contemplating on the more and the how of what she should do when Hermione strode up beside her.

"Ready for that cuppa?" said Hermione with an easy smile.

"Gods yes, let's go. I could go for twelve cuppas and a hippogriff right now," Lily said darkly and Hermione stifled a laugh. They ate breakfast quickly and brought mugs of tea back to the dormitory. While Lily loved the school week, she enjoyed the weekend even more; the small reprieve from a week's worth of grueling work returned some semblance of sanity to her. And right now, her brain was sifting through ideas rapidly of what the next plan of action should be.

Lily was lost in deep thought when Hermione nudged her arm. "Is something wrong?"

Lily looked up from the mug in her hands to Hermione, concern written all over her. She opened her mouth to dismiss it, but stopped.

"Yes," she said plainly. "Something is very wrong." At Hermione's inquisitive look, she continued. "What happened at Hogsmeade has made me realize something. We're totally defenseless out there. We know defensive spells, but yesterday…" Lily pressed her lips in a thin line. "We were useless and outnumbered. The third years especially didn't stand a chance. How is that right?"

Hermione was speechless. Lily ploughed on, "I'm not saying that what we're learning at Hogwarts isn't good enough. I think we need something beyond the classroom setting, where grades don't matter, to practice and learn more defensive spells. We need to help ourselves and train ourselves for what's out there, now more than ever."

"What are you saying?" asked Hermione warily.

Lily lifted her chin. "I think we need to start a defense club."

xxx

"Unbelievable," James said in wonder as he sidled in the cramped classroom. Lily rolled her eyes and pointedly looked away from him. "Lily Evans, the top student at Hogwarts, abusing her power as a prefect and smuggling in a hoard of teenagers to a classroom? After hours? Have I stepped in a third dimension?"

"You will soon if you keep that up," Lily retorted. James smiled and shook his head, walking over to Remus and Peter. Hermione rushed over to her and nervously wrung her hands.

"We have about fifty as of now," she said in a hushed voice, though visibly excited. "And from all houses. There's a good bunch of Slytherins here, too."

"I noticed. Some are in my astronomy class," Lily informed, smiling mysteriously. "Very friendly."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was joking or not, unable to read anything from Lily's impassive face. When two Slytherin girls sauntered up to them, Hermione held her breath.

"Interesting gathering, Evans," a blonde-haired girl said coolly. "Hope you don't mind I brought some of my other friends with me."

"Not at all, Stacy. Anybody is welcome if they're interested," Lily replied agreeably. Stacy nodded and walked back with her friend to the group of Slytherins. Hermione watched the exchange and furrowed her brows.

"Was that some kind of test?"

Lily snorted. "Doubtful. Merilla Stacy is the serious type, but she's really fun when you get to know her."

When it looked like no one else would be coming, Hermione stuck her head out of the classroom and glanced around carefully before shutting the door. Swishing her wand and incanting a Silencing charm, the room fell into a hush as she resumed her place next to Lily.

Hermione nodded encouragingly, and Lily took a deep breath. She turned to the students before her.

"Hopefully most of you know why you're here today," Lily began. "Especially after what happened at Hogsmeade."

"We know," a Ravenclaw boy said. "But why couldn't this meeting happen during school time? Like a proper club?"

"It will, once it's settled we're starting this," Lily assured. "I wanted to keep this quiet first."

"What is it exactly you're planning to start?" Sirius asked from the back of the room.

Lily straightened, composing herself calmly and with purpose. "I want to start a defense club for students who wish to learn beyond the classroom setting. Hogwarts has taught us well, but after what we witnessed at Hogsmeade, we're in no way prepared to fight actual battles against those who will try to hurt us." She paused, looking around. "As of today, there are still ninety-four students in the Hospital wing. A lot of them are our age, a lot are much younger. The point is, we need to be able to defend ourselves against what's out there, especially now. Dumbledore told us just last week that it's not safe anymore, that what we do beyond the teachings of Hogwarts is our choice. This is my choice."

There was a general murmur of assent, and Hermione looked at Lily with pride. Lily inherently had a way with words, her kindness mixed with fierce determination and inspired others to believe in her and stand by her.

"And who will be teaching us?" a Hufflepuff boy sneered. "You? Her?" he pointed to Hermione.

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Hermione already knows loads of spells beyond what we've learned so far. She could do wandless magic when she came to Hogwarts. You're lucky you have the chance to learn from her."

Hermione shifted a little, a little overwhelmed by Lily's confidence in her and the amount of curious stares directed her way, but Hermione didn't shy away from the attention. "It won't be just us. Anyone who wants to teach can teach. What we need is practice and precision, and we definitely need to know how to do silent spells. You won't stand a chance against a Death Eater if you're shouting exactly what you'll be using against them."

"Is that what this is?" a Gryffindor girl piped up. "An army against the Death Eaters?"

"Anyone against the Death Eaters is already part of any army," Merilla Stacy said irritably. "I know I don't want to be helpless at the hands of one like my sister was last week." She looked at Lily firmly. "Sign me up, Evans."

Lily smiled and nodded to Hermione. Hermione felt a flutter of excitement and nostalgia when she whipped out a scroll from her pocket and spread it on a table at the front of the room. "Anyone who wants to join will sign their name here," said Lily . "I'm going work on getting this club to normal club hours and approved by the school. Although it won't be under the assumption that we'll be practicing defensive spells."

"Why not?" asked James.

"We don't know who's already part of the Death Eaters here," said Lily quietly. "I hate to think it, but we all know it's happened and there's no point pretending otherwise. I don't want word getting out that Hogwarts is building up an army or something. That's really not what we're aiming for and we don't want that attention."

"What should we call the club?" asked Alice as people began lining up to sign the parchment.

Lily sighed. "I'm not sure. Something far from what we're doing and wouldn't get much attention. If anyone has an idea, now's the time to say it."

Hermione froze then, her eyes wide with realization. "I have the perfect name!" she exclaimed. Scrambling to her bag and pulling out another piece of parchment, Hermione scribbled furiously and thrust the paper at Lily. Lily frowned as she grasped the paper, but as her eyes roved over the words hastily scratched on the parchment, a broad smile broke across her face.

"We have a name for our club," Lily announced as she rolled up the parchment in her hands, "'The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare'!"

xxx

 

Notes:

Thank you so so much for the support and feedback I've gotten for this fic! You guys are incredible and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

A massive thank-you to my best friend Hinatas for beta'ing this chapter flawlessly, being extremely supportive, and making this experience even more fun for me!

Chapter 18: Bitter Work

Chapter 18

Bitter Work

A cold front swept across Britain, the crisp remnants of autumn replaced by a new wave of bone-deep chill. The trees were now bare, gnarled and winding branches twisting along a quiet, sleepy road in Little Hangleton.

A manor stood atop a hill that overlooked the little village, its windows boarded shut with vines curling over once-handsome brick walls. A dim light flickered in the highest window where the boards were broken, slapping against the glass at every gust of wind.

A pale hand deftly shot out a wand at the window, and immediately the noise silenced.

In the attic, two other men in the room flinched at the movement. One was fidgeting ever so slightly, his forehead shining with sweat, while the other merely moved his long, silvery blond hair behind his shoulder. The smaller man wiped his forehead and attempted to straighten himself, only to jump in fright when two narrow slits of piercing eyes faced him once more.

"Would you repeat that again for me, Amycus?"

Amycus Carrow swallowed. "One of them—one of the new recruits used a dark curse on his brother during the initiation. Regulus Black."

"Interesting you know this, very interesting, as you weren't even present during the initiation, were you not?" Voldemort said coldly. Amycus shivered imperceptibly, his body going stiff. "Yes, the Dark Lord knows what you try to conceal."

"N-no, my lord, I was detained. I did arrive at Hogsmeade shortly after the initiation began, though—"

Voldemort looked away from him, inspecting his wand carefully. A bolt of fear went through Amycus, dreading that the wand tip would soon be pointed between his eyes and that would be the end of him, yet it was not so. Amycus appeared visibly relieved when Voldemort's attention shifted away from him.

"You confirm this incidence, Lucius?"

Lucius lifted his chin. "Yes, my lord. I witnessed it myself. Sirius Black was as good as dead, had he not been taken to the castle. Regulus has proven himself most…loyal, to you and your teachings."

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" asked Voldemort silkily, his eyes bright with amusement.

Lucius said nothing, knowing it was wiser to keep his words to himself. Voldemort moved away from them, waving his hand abruptly. "Dismissed."

Exchanging glances, Amycus and Lucius swiftly left the old muggle residence, leaving the dark lord alone in the room. After hearing two affirmative cracks, he reached in his pocket and retrieved two delicate pieces of jewelry, setting them on a worn and rickety writing desk.

The flames from the fireplace cast red and orange shadows on a small ring with a stone encrusted inside the gold band, a faint, unusual silvery line running it. Next to it was a locket. The Dark Lord's long nail traced the caricature of a green snake that wound itself on the front, reflecting amber and green onto his fingers. He felt it reverberate against his touch familiarly. His lips curled in a sneer, and he pointed his wand at the ring. A crackle of electricity burst from the tip and the ring spun wildly where it stood, a loud shrieking noise erupting from the stone.

He pulled his wand away, and the sound died. He raised his wand higher and banished the ring, and it disappeared instantly.

Voldemort turned his attention to the locket. This curse would be more elaborate, but nothing a Dark Lord could not do…

It would be tested, of course; this particular one required it. And as Voldemort pointed his wand at the locket, smiling in satisfaction, he knew who he would go to….

xxx

Hermione grimaced as sharp pain erupted from her abdomen.

Something had changed—either from the way they carried themselves around each other, to the way they walked together, fluid and warm and simplistic; it was inexplicable. It was something different, something ungraspable about them no one could quite place but were certain had happened.

On a subconscious level Hermione felt it too. She was smiling again, the kind that came from the heart, mostly due to something Sirius had said or done. Now that she could speak to Sirius freely, it was as if a barrier had shattered between them, and since then it had become easy to talk with each other. She found she quite liked talking to Sirius; his humor and his infectious grins were becoming difficult to deny.

It was lunch time, and Sirius was leading her to the seventh floor, walking briskly up the steps as Hermione puffed behind him.

"Come, we haven't got much time!" Sirius threw a glance behind him exasperatedly.

"It's not—my—fault—" Hermione panted, clutching her stomach, "you said—you said—eat quickly, and now it hurts—"

Sirius shook his head and slowed down a bit, waiting for her to catch up with him. "Which is why I also suggested you should just eat later," he replied smoothly, and Hermione shot him a glare.

When they reached the seventh floor, Sirius and Hermione walked hurriedly to the wall that led to the Room of Requirement. This time it was Sirius who stood before it, motioning for Hermione to step back. The wall began shifting and changing until a door materialized, and Sirius opened it immediately.

Hermione darted inside and shut the door. "Nice room," she commented.

"It's the one James, Peter, and I used when we practiced transforming ourselves," he shrugged. It was a square room with soft blue carpeting and a few chairs at the end of the room next to a fireplace, as well as a table with a little pitcher of water. A punching bag was stationed on the side of the room as well.

"What's that for?" Hermione asked.

"For your frustration," said Sirius mildly. "There might have been some, er, casualties to the furnishings while we practiced—"

"You mean you broke stuff when you were angry," Hermione said dryly.

"Hence the bag," Sirius answered testily. He ushered her to the center of the room and shook his body out, loosening the tension in his muscles.

"Now," Sirius began firmly. "This shit isn't easy."

"I guessed so."

"What we're doing is transfiguration but for our bodies, and to ourselves. We preserve—"

"—our mind as Animagi rather than assume an animal mind," Hermione recited, giving him another dry look. "I know how this works, Sirius."

"Humor me," said Sirius, and Hermione nodded. "Our mind is still intact as Animagi, which is our biggest advantage. This is wandless, nonverbal magic, unique of its kind. Once you master it, it's really simple shifting forms, but the first shape shift is the hardest. It took me ages to do this."

Hermione nervously watched as Sirius took a step back. "Watch."

Sirius started to lower himself on his hands and knees when the change happened. It was quick and precise and in the blink of an eye, Sirius was replaced by a black shaggy dog. He barked happily and ran around her, making Hermione giggle.

He stopped in front of her again and pushed himself on his hind legs, and in a second Sirius was back in his human form. Hermione looked at him impressively and Sirius grinned. "I have to say, being a dog really suits you," said Hermione.

"James said the same thing to me," Sirius said thoughtfully. "So, that's that. Looks simple enough, but you have to really, really concentrate. Are you ready to practice?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes."

"Okay." Sirius gave her plenty of space and crossed his arms. "This is purely concentration." Hermione nodded again. "Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Open your mouth, Hermione."

Hermione looked at Sirius anxiously, waiting for him to crack a smile and say 'kidding!' but it never came. Sirius looked down at Hermione expectantly and, reluctantly, Hermione parted her mouth wide.

"Lift your tongue." Hermione complied, and made a noise of surprise when Sirius placed a leaf in her mouth. "Careful there, you can't spit that out."

"What is this?" Hermione spluttered, not liking the feeling of a leaf scraping underneath her tongue. The taste of it was starting to fill her mouth and she grimaced.

"It's a Mandrake leaf," Sirius folded his arms. "In order to be an Animagus, you have to carry the leaf of a Mandrake in your mouth for one month."

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "When did you three carry a leaf in your mouth for a month?"

"Around Remus's attack," Sirius replied grimly. "Nobody noticed we didn't talk as much during that time; people thought we were just gutted at our friend being stuck in the hospital wing."

The taste of the Mandrake leaf was getting stronger and Hermione had to fight not to spit it out of her mouth. Still, she made no complaint. She had asked for this, after all.

"So…now what?" she asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Now you concentrate."

"On what?"

"Transforming."

"Do I—er—I don't pick, right? What I want to change into?" asked Hermione hesitantly, having a small thread of hope despite knowing what Sirius would say.

Sirius shook his head. "Whatever animal you become, it's not up to you. That's up to the magic resting inside you. Now, find the magic coursing inside of you. Find it, follow it. That's all I want you to do right now."

Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to find the magical energy inside of her. For several minutes she grappled with nothing, gritting her teeth.

After a while, Sirius spoke. "Do you feel it?"

"No," Hermione scowled. "I don't feel anything."

He nodded understandingly. "That's alright. It takes time."

"How long did it take you find your magical energy this way?" Hermione asked curiously.

Sirius pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'd say…three months?" When he looked back at Hermione, he found her gaping at him. "What?"

"Three months?" she said, stricken. "But…the books…"

"…Can be misleading. There is no other way," Sirius said sternly, and Hermione's mouth snapped shut. "You either do it this way or we end these lessons right now. You already knew it could take years to become an Animagus, so why does it matter? Blimey, in any other scenario it would have taken me up to five years to master this, but we all lucked out and did it in a year. That could be you too."

Hermione frowned while chewing on her lower lip, trying for the life of her to remember she did in fact know this bit of information all along. Perhaps the idea of not being immediately good at something was throwing her off.

Finally she sighed and nodded. "Right, sorry. We'll keep doing this as long as it takes."

"Good," Sirius nodded back approvingly. Sauntering over to the table, he lifted the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water. Hermione was dismayed when he pulled out a chair and took a seat. "You can continue," he waved before taking a generous drink.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione looked away and closed her eyes tightly. She imagined herself shifting and changing, her magic wrapping around her like a fiery shield. She stretched out her mind but her eyes saw nothing but the darkness of her eyelids, and felt for the ebb and flow of her magic.

She didn't know how long she was at this until she felt a hand gently press on her shoulder. Jumping in shock, she looked up to see Sirius smiling softly down at her.

"That's enough for today."

"But I haven't done anything," Hermione replied blankly.

"That's how this goes," Sirius explained. "You won't be able to tell how much progress you're making until you transform. It'll be unexpected."

Hermione acquiesced, but still felt inadequate for not understanding how to improve herself. Being an Animagus was one of the most complex forms of magic she ever encountered, mostly because there was no true guideline of how to become one (at least, not illegally). It relied too heavily on intuition and guessing, which was always something that Hermione never really mastered.

Nonetheless they quickly left the Room of Requirement, and when Hermione glanced down at her watch, she shrieked.

"We're late! We're so late, Sirius!" she shouted as she ran down the hallway in a frenzy, Sirius laughing behind her.

xxx

"…Spew, Miss Evans?"

"S.P.E.W. actually, Professor."

McGonagall regarded Lily blankly, the proposal parchment balanced lightly between her fingers. "And what, may I ask, do you intend to do in this club?"

"To educate my classmates of the history of House-Elves, and their plight. For centuries they've been stripped of their rights and forced into slavery," said Lily calmly. "Perhaps they'll start wondering where the food here at Hogwarts comes from."

McGonagall didn't seem convinced, looking at Lily archly, but nodded curtly. "Very well, you may hold your meeting next week. But I need not remind you that this school requires a minimum of ten students to grant official club status."

Lily grinned cheerfully. "I'm well aware, Professor McGonagall. I assure you that numbers won't be a problem."

McGonagall pursed her lips and glanced down at the sheet of parchment. With a quick flourish of her quill, she signed the permission form and handed it to Lily. "Good luck, Evans."

Hermione was pacing impatiently outside McGonagall's office when Lily came out. She paused, warily taking in Lily's somber expression.

"She didn't…" Hermione trailed, fighting not to let her disappointment show. But when Lily held out a paper to Hermione, McGonagall's signature written clearly in green ink, Hermione's spirits soared.

"You sneak!" Hermione accused, and Lily was grinning hard, linking her arm with Hermione's as they rushed through the corridors and to the Great Hall.

"It's your fault for not having more faith in me," Lily said lightly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. They sat down eagerly at the Gryffindor table while students were just starting to trickle in for dinner. A few warm rolls were already there, and they each devoured one before Hermione began pulling out several sheets of parchment.

"We need to plan a schedule of what we're going to cover each week," Hermione began as her quill worked furiously. "When are you planning to hold the first meeting?"

Lily frowned thoughtfully. "I was thinking next Friday."

Hermione's quill paused. "You do know nobody will want to be anywhere after six on a Friday night."

"Exactly," Lily replied, pleased. "Not only will it be on a day nobody would want to attend a club meeting, but the club title in itself will go under the radar, so to speak. Only those who know what we're about, and are truly serious, will attend these meetings."

A slow smile spread on Hermione's lips. "Excellent thinking, Lily," said Hermione, impressed. "Now that that's taken care of, let's start with lesson plans. I think we should start with basic defensive spells, mastering Expelliarmus and what not."

"Let's make a list of spells we have to cover," Lily took out her own quill and started writing on a separate sheet of parchment. She looked up at Hermione suddenly.

"Hermione," Lily began.

"Yes?"

"Do you think third years could do nonverbal spells?"

Hermione looked away from her outline. Deep in thought, she wondered…could she have done it at thirteen? Hermione suppressed a snort. Well, yes.

But Hermione had to consider what other students were capable of, how fast they learned, and how much practice they would need, and their current spell knowledge and accuracy certainly had to be taken into account as well.

"I think they should learn that last," she said finally. "They need to focus first on being able to perfectly produce the spells we'll be teaching them. There's a reason we learn nonverbal spells in our sixth year. At our age, we're expected to have mastered casting spells and understanding magic to its entirety. We'll teach them nonverbal spell-casting at the very end."

"But they'll still learn it by this year?"

"Definitely," Hermione nodded affirmatively. They would need to know it…they needed to know how to defend themselves now more than ever. Her heart pounded hard when she thought of hunting for the remaining horcruxes, and being found out. If they got wind that a student at Hogwarts was slowly trying to kill Lord Voldemort, if they had even the slightest clue…Hogwarts would not be safe.

She didn't want it to come to that, though. The last thing she wanted was putting the lives of hundreds of students at risk because of her. This had to end cleanly.

"But can you really expect that?"

Hermione jumped, looking frightfully at Lily. "W-what?"

Lily raised a brow. "Can you really expect them to understand it?"

Hermione exhaled slowly, relieved. It was silly to think Lily knew what Hermione was thinking. Shaking her head, she answered honestly. "Yes, I firmly believe they can do it. If they're determined to learn, nothing can stop them."

xxx

Hermione chewed nervously on her thumbnail as she and Lily paced the empty classroom. There was a large folder tucked under Hermione's arm filled with notes, though not the sort that would really be needed for the meeting. It was a backup plan should McGonagall come to observe the meeting; just the idea of it made Hermione's stomach flip. While she had no qualms against Professor McGonagall, playing this double role wasn't something Hermione felt entirely prepared for.

"How's your mouth?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Sirius sidled next to her. "No different than before."

"Surprised you haven't eaten it yet," Sirius commented wryly, and Hermione glared. "What? It's happened."

"To you?"

"To a witch or wizard," he corrected. "Seems you haven't, though."

"Your faith in me is comforting," said Hermione distractedly, her eyes fixing back on Lily.

Sirius followed her gaze. "She doesn't seem too worried, does she?"

"Why should she?" Hermione asked in a slightly high-pitched voice. "She knows what she's doing; we have a backup if McGonagall walks in—this should go smoothly."

"Not many students create new clubs here," Sirius noted thoughtfully. "Especially about House-Elves. Funny you chose them."

Hermione's racing thoughts paused, and she narrowed her eyes at Sirius. "How is it funny?"

Sirius hesitated, unsure at the strange look in Hermione's eyes, "I mean, they're just House-Elves. They're not very interesting."

Sirius could feel the air growing colder around him. Hermione replied primly, "Well when your life is forcefully bound for eternity to someone who doesn't see you as a person, you'll wish somebody in the world would care about your rights."

Leaving a speechless Sirius behind, Hermione snuck a glance down the corridor to see if the telltale swish of an emerald green cloak, matched with McGonagall's severe glare, were approaching towards the classroom. When neither came, she slowly closed the door and caught Lily's eye.

Sirius had been right, of course; Lily did not seem the least bit worried. At Hermione's nod of assurance, Lily nodded back and turned to the group of students that had gathered inside the room. They were all the same students who'd been present at the secret meeting, which to a degree disappointed Hermione (did nobody care about elfish rights?), but it made the meeting much easier.

"Thank you all for coming again," Lily smiled gratefully. "Seems we have the same group as last time. Since this is our proper first meeting, I thought it'd be best to first answer some questions and keep it informative, starting with the reason we're all here. Voldemort."

It was as if a gust of cold air had rippled in the room, students shivering and a few yelping in surprise.

"D-don't say that name out loud!" Peter said weakly.

"I'm not afraid of the name," Lily said calmly. "But I am afraid of what he's capable of. He's the reason why we made this defense club in the first place; his followers have been terrorizing Britain for years, muggles and wizards alike. He's getting stronger. We have to be able to stand up for ourselves."

The room fell silent. Hermione could feel the worry and fear emanating from the students at the reality of Lily's words.

"Why do you think You-Know-Who is doing this?" a timid girl second-year asked from the back. Her voice did not quaver, but she did shift nervously at the blank looks.

"Perhaps because he's evil?" Merilla rolled her eyes.

"Yes but…but, what is he trying to win by killing and hurting people?" the girl persisted. "What could he gain by hurting so many people?"

"Power," Lily answered decisively. "Power through fear. He wants control. For now, he's settled on blood purity, that somehow having muggle heritage makes you less of a person. For the past few years he's made a mission of hurting muggles, wizarding families with muggle heritage, and any blood traitors who support them."

The room fell silent as everybody contemplated Lily's words. "Is that what happened to Granger and her family?" a boy asked boldly.

Hermione started. She looked at the boy who spoke up, and was surprised to see so many other curious faces watching her expectantly. Did they really expect her to talk about the murder of her parents? One she hadn't even been able to witness, her parents buried and gone by the time she woke up in James Potter's house?

"We're not here to discuss Hermione's life story, or anybody's for that matter," said Lily coldly. "If there aren't any more real questions, we can move on."

Hermione's eyes flitted to the curious and confused faces, and felt a pressure bubbling up in her chest, thoughts racing in her mind, until the words burst forth unwittingly from her mouth, "Yes. Yes that's exactly what happened."

Staring at her in shocked silence, their mouths gaping, Lily's head whipped to her in an instant as Hermione continued. "It was sudden, and quick. There was no warning. I—I don't remember any of it. But I know what the Dark Mark looks like. In the papers it's small, and you can almost ignore it, but seeing it up close is something else."

Hermione breathed sharply through her nose, now recalling the summer at the Quidditch World Cup, and channeling the terror in those memories and bringing it forth, praying it would do its intended purpose. She wanted these students to look beyond the fascination and understand the tangible fear, the very same fear they had felt Hogsmeade, and motivate them. Just this once.

"You see it, and at first you don't understand it. It's massive and looming over you, filling up most of the sky as it moves. And then—then you realize what you're looking at, and that's when you remember to be afraid. And you don't want to know what's happened, but of course you already do."

Her eyes were burning, but Hermione's expression remained unchanged. The students were now regarding her with horror and something akin to empathy, but her eyes traveled to Sirius's instead, who had been watching her intently throughout her speech. His eyes were wide and she was thrown off by the knowing look in them.

"I don't know anything beyond that which the papers published. I can't seem to remember it, but I know this much. What's happening out there is real—nobody is safe. In an instant, you could be face-to-face with someone who will try to kill you. I wish I'd had the proper training and focus at that time. Maybe things could have been different, then."

It seemed forever until someone spoke. "You are brave no matter what, Granger." It was the sneering Hufflepuff boy, though not a single trace of haughtiness was on him now. His eyes mirrored a look of determination that everybody else seemed to have now, and Hermione made an effort to smile, though it came out as more of a wobbly grimace.

Questions started pouring in then, and it wasn't until late in the evening hour when Lily finally said, "That'll have to be enough for now." At the uproar of disappointment, Lily sighed. "McGonagall hinted that she might show up during the S.P.E.W. meeting, so we have to take this precaution—at least for this meeting. We've devised a backup plan so we won't be caught unaware lest she suddenly comes to observe us."

Hermione sidled next to Lily then, hefting the large folder more securely under her arm. "Before we start practicing spells and such, we thought it best to actually talk about House-Elves in case McGonagall asks us of particulars," Hermione announced happily.

A collective groan resounded in the classroom.

"Can't we just make something up if she asks?" Merilla Stacy asked wearily.

"What's there to know?" the Hufflepuff boy asked exasperatedly. "They like serving wizards and witches. It's in their blood."

"That right there—that is exactly why we're going to talk about House-Elves," Hermione snapped crossly. "These assumptions end today." When she saw them starting to slump in their seats—much like they when Professor Binns droned on about the Goblin Wars—she added fiercely, "And we're not moving on to spells until all of you have some basic knowledge."

"Hermione," said James patiently. "We understand what you're trying to say, but…they like being House-Elves. They find it offensive when someone tries to interfere or set them free. Surely you realize that?"

Hermione pursed her lips together. "Of course I do. I've seen what happens if you set free a House-Elf that doesn't want it. But I've also seen what happens when a House-Elf doesn't want to be enslaved." She shook her head. "Servitude isn't inside them like eye color or an instinct; it's enforced since their birth. From the other elves, from the families they're magically bound to—from their inception they're told to believe that this is what's right. How is that okay?"

Hermione's speech had come just in time, for a stern voice suddenly said, "An excellent question, Miss Granger."

McGonagall hovered by the doorway with her arms crossed, watching the students jump in fright and glance at her. She had clearly just arrived, as Hermione knew that door had been closed just moments earlier.

"Thank you, Professor. It's one we'll be thinking about until our next meeting." Looking at the students emphatically, they slowly began to pack their things and trickle out of the room. Lily and Hermione were the only ones who remained, along with McGonagall.

McGonagall offered them a rare smile. "That was a fascinating end to the meeting, ladies. I'm rather impressed you garnered such interest in this subject."

"It is an important topic, Professor," Lily nodded surely.

Bidding McGonagall a good night, Lily and Hermione quickly fled the room and headed to the Gryffindor common room, where they were met with interested and gushing underclassmen that had been at the S.P.E.W. meeting. Nodding faintly and waving them off, they tiredly went to the girls' dormitory and pulled on their night clothes. Lily laid awake, staring up at the canopy with a sense of accomplishment.

"You were brilliant, Hermione." She turned to look at Hermione. "You are brilliant."

Hermione's cheeks glowed as she turned her head to look at Lily, both of them smiling in the dark despite the very serious meeting just a half hour ago. "So are you."

xxx

Rain pounded heavily against the high-arched windows of the library where Severus Snape sat. He set his quill down against the inkpot to stare outside the murky windows; from here the sweeping hills of the Hogwarts grounds could be seen in their entire splendor, vast and rolling until it faded into the Dark Forest. He remembered how it felt when he saw it for the first time in his first year. Hogwarts grounds, compared to his tiny home on Spinner's End, had made him feel like anything was possible…it hadn't taken very long, though, for him to realize a nicer home and better food did not relieve him of all of his problems.

He barely lasted a minute staring out the window before a lofty voice said, "This hardly counts as studying."

Severus looked up, frowning. "I only just took a break." His eyes narrowed when Hermione's expression grew smug. "Why am I bothering explaining this to you?" he said distastefully. She didn't answer, choosing to set her bag down and start taking her books out, sitting across from him. He eyed her suspiciously. "I take it you're no longer angry with me."

"I wasn't necessarily angry at you," Hermione replied and unscrewed her bottle of ink, wrinkling her nose when some of the ink spotted on her fingers. When she did not elaborate, Severus pressed further, "Have you figured things out, then?"

"Surprisingly," she smiled. Severus rolled his eyes, looking at her disdainfully. "You're annoying."

"And you're impatient," said Hermione swiftly. "We both have questions for each other, and we both have news to share, so will you at least let me unpack and organize my things before we, I dunno, pour our hearts out to each other?"

Severus sighed. Hermione busied herself by shuffling a deck of notecards and setting them aside, then unscrewing several more bottles of ink, these ones of various colors for note-taking. He grew restless again, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I hear you've started a club."

"Yes, and you're not allowed," Hermione replied primly.

"Why not?" asked Severus indignantly. Not that he had any real interest to join a club, but the flat denial irked him.

Her eyes finally flickered up at him, hands pausing. "It's a defense club, and if you come and join, what will your friends think?" she asked lowly. "If they find out you're going to a secret defense club, they'll either assume the worst, or try to join as well, thus forcing us to end the club then and there. Or they'll ostracize you for joining a club about House-Elf rights, which defeats the whole 'spy' purpose."

"A defense club under the guise of being about House-Elves?" asked Severus, impressed. "How did you even manage that?"

"Always the tone of surprise," Hermione sniffed, but a wry smile broke through. "You have Lily to thank for that, though. She organized it most of it, and she was the one to come up with a defense club in the first place. The attack at Hogsmeade really bothered her." At Severus's sudden despondence, Hermione frowned. "It's not your fault, you know. Like you said before, you didn't know what would happen."

"I should've realized," he muttered, his hands clenching and unclenching. This was something he'd been thinking about since Hogsmeade happened…Lily had been in danger, as had Hermione, and they'd fought against the Death Eaters on their own…he could never forgive himself if anything had happened to Lily…

"Lily can take care of herself," Hermione's sharp words cut through Severus's thoughts. He jolted in surprise, gazing at the severe stare she was giving him. "You're forgetting she's the most brilliant witch of your year. Even if you warned her—which by the way you can't, since you being a Death Eater is a secret—do you honestly think she would stay behind at the castle?"

Severus looked away. Finally, once he seemed to overcome some of the guilt that had been plaguing him for days, he replied dryly, "I thought you were the brightest witch of our year."

"Of my year, of course," said Hermione easily, returning her attention to her books. "I'm not really part of this year, and anyway I'm not particularly interested in putting myself in a competition against Lily." She stilled, then, looking at her side of the desk with satisfaction. "Alright," she nodded, "I'm all set up for studying after our talk. We can start now."

He waited a beat, before continuing, "What if I was careful, though?"

Hermione blinked. "About what?"

"Coming to the meetings."

Hermione groaned. "You're still on that?"

"Think about it," Severus pushed. "Who's got more experience with dark arts than me? I could—I don't know—help train them against dark magic."

"Do you really, actually want to be part of this club?" asked Hermione curiously.

Severus paused. "Not really…perhaps? I just like having options."

She looked at him skeptically. "I'll keep your words in mind. For now, we have a lot to catch up on."

"Indeed. Which reminds me, you do realize we're in a library? Anyone could've heard the multitude of things you just blurted out now."

Hermione snorted. "I'd like to see them try. I cast a muffliato spell when you were busy daydreaming out the window."

"I wasn't—!" Severus glared at Hermione's knowing smile. "You're awfully cheerful today, aren't you? Practically glowing." His eyes widened. "Something's happened… something good! I haven't seen you this happy since last year."

"That's not saying much, considering last year was horrible," Hermione remarked darkly. "But you're right, things have been looking…up…I suppose. I want to know your side first, though, then we'll get to mine."

"And what if I want to hear your side first?" asked Severus stubbornly, to which Hermione quipped, "You'd best prepare for disappointment, then." Severus sighed and stretched, his stiff muscles loosening a bit.

"Well," he heaved a sigh, "there's not much to say. We were told to go the border of Hogsmeade near the mountains, and they were waiting for us." Severus glanced down uneasily. "They gave us the cloaks and the masks…said our first mission was to set an example of our destruction and ability to evade capture. That would be our proof of loyalty."

"And that's when you started attacking," Hermione nodded slowly, a wrinkle in her forehead. "Who else was there?"

"Lucius Malfoy, Alecto Carrow, and Walden Macnair were the ones who gave us the orders," Severus recounted, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Later I think I saw Amycus Carrow…but that was it."

Hermione pursed her lips. "And then they left right after?"

"Immediately," said Severus. He looked at Hermione questioningly. "Does this mean anything to you? Are they important?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know any more than you do, Severus. I can't say I know much about the other Death Eaters, but I did know of Lucius Malfoy…he was sort of close to Voldemort…"

"He has to be if the Dark Lord entrusted one of his horcruxes with him," Severus said bluntly. Hermione nodded in agreement. "Regardless, I'm certain what happened at Hogsmeade was reported back to him. Anything more than that is anyone's guess."

Hermione had a distant look in her eyes, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Regulus," she said abruptly. "You said Regulus used your spell to curse Sirius. Why?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't been able to get much word out of him, to be honest. But I did confront him after the incident. He said it was to protect his family…that's why he used my curse. So it would 'seem real'."

Hermione frowned deeply at these words. "So it would seem real?" she repeated, and Severus nodded. "He did this to protect his family…Merlin knows he's been a bit of a target since the beginning, what with his family ties and Sirius denying his heritage, and Regulus taking up the role…" Her eyes widened. "Do you think he's being monitored?"

"What do you mean?" asked Severus curiously.

"Regulus said he used your curse—a potentially fatal curse—so that it would seem real. That can only mean he's trying to convince someone then, right? Convince someone about more than just loyalty to the Death Eaters, but to Voldemort himself." Her eyes glazed over as the pieces started fitting together in her mind. "Voldemort…must've had doubts about Regulus, probably because Sirius backed out. Even though Bellatrix and Narcissa and a whole load of others come from that house, Voldemort wouldn't be satisfied unless he had absolute certainty that Regulus wouldn't be the same. The consequences of that would've been very bad…"

"He did mention to me that Voldemort wasn't pleased that his aunt Andromeda married a muggle," Severus noted, eyes wide with realization. "Then Alphard Black, the blood traitor, Sirius the abandoner…Regulus is the last heir to restore dignity to the family traditions. He was being pressured from the start."

"Being a proficient Legilimens wasn't enough," Hermione concluded, her fingers wringing together fretfully. "He got past Voldemort that way, made it into his leagues…wounding Sirius nearly to death would be solid proof that Regulus has no sympathy for Sirius's kind of mentality."

Severus gave a disgusted look. "This would've been a lot easier to understand if that brat just told us what's been on his bloody mind! Before he couldn't keep his mouth shut, now he refuses to say a word!"

"He's under a lot of pressure," Hermione said distractedly, her mind still going over the things they'd just discussed. "At least he's still on our side. Being a double agent on top of all this isn't easy, you know."

"Oh yes, I very well know that!" Severus huffed. "Being a spy myself, I too have been under duress, but you don't see me hiding in my bed all day."

"Is that what he's been doing?" asked Hermione, a touch of sadness in her voice. Severus shrugged.

"Let's just say he doesn't much prefer the company of anyone anymore. Scabior's been the only one to get through to him lately."

"Yeah, they're quite close…" Hermione mused.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Severus exhaled loudly. "Well, that's all of it. Now it's your turn."

Hermione's eyes grew round, as if worried for a second, and Severus grew suspicious again. "This is something I might not like, isn't it."

"For you? Of course. But this was bound to happen anyway, and it's still all new…"

Severus pulled a face. "You're not dating Black now, are you?"

"What! N-no!" Hermione spluttered, her cheeks flushing pink instantly. "What made you—? Ha, ha, erm," she cleared her throat. "No, that's not what happened. But…well…after the incident at Hogsmeade on our side, it was time to tell him. So…I told Sirius about who I really am. About being a time traveler."

She looked up at Severus tentatively. He was absolutely and utterly gobsmacked. "He took it well, though! A lot better than you," she said accusingly but nonetheless in jest, but Severus continued to stare at her with his mouth hanging. "You were the one to suggest I needed to tell other people about this anyway, Severus. Don't go turning back on that now."

"Of all the people you'd tell first, you picked him?" Severus burst, finally breaking his silence. His eyes bulged from their sockets, looking at Hermione as if she had grown four extra heads. "What about Lily? Lupin seems to have his head on straight, even if he is a bit of a weirdo. Even the dunderhead would've been understandable as he's your stepbrother, or Pettigrew and his many nervous breakdowns!"

"Firstly, Peter does not have nervous breakdowns," Hermione reprimanded, scowling. "And secondly, Sirius was the one who knew the most already. Lily has no clue what's going, everyone else just has a vague idea—it was Sirius who's been persistently digging up my past, and—and there was an incident anyway where he sort of saw me before I showed up in this time, but that's all water under the br—" Hermione tried to say this in a rush so Severus wouldn't entirely pick up on it, but he jumped on it immediately.

"How is that possible? How could he remember you before you showed up in our time?" Severus exclaimed.

Hermione winced guiltily, Severus's words forcing her to relive a moment of failure she'd been trying to overlook. "When I had the Time-Turner, I was…interrupted…a girl in my house burst in on me and it frightened me, so my hand sort of slipped…and I was transported to 1971 instead of 1975. I ended up in Diagon Alley, and Sirius was there. He's recognized me as that girl ever since—he's had his doubts, of course—but when he realized I was the same girl, he knew I was hiding a very big secret. I thought he'd figure it out right then and there that I was a time traveler, nevertheless…" she trailed, watching Severus for his reaction. When he merely sighed and looked out the window, Hermione continued confidently, "As it is, it all worked out in the end anyway, didn't it? And there's one more person on this earth who knows what I am and can help us further. This should be good news."

She could tell Severus was going to be annoyed about this for a while, that it was Sirius who knew her secret now, as old prejudices and misgivings were the hardest to overcome. They both had reasons to hate each other, but she assumed since their intervention with Regulus in the summer, things between them would have improved. There hadn't been any quarrels between them the entire year either, and Sirius and Severus lived in civil tolerance of each other while pretending the other didn't exist. This existence, Hermione realized, had a very fine thread.

Narrowing her eyes shrewdly, she inspected Severus once more. "You're going to be working with him from now on, so I suggest you squash down any ideas of instigating a quarrel. I know how much you're dying to flaunt how you were the first person I told—don't give me that look, Severus, I know you very well!" Severus glared at Hermione, which she returned with interest. "But I'm asking you to continue being at least civil. You don't have to start braiding each other's hair, but we have to work together, or else it wouldn't be any different if I were working on this alone again."

Severus rolled his eyes, huffing. "Do you really think I'd jeopardize things just to get a one-up on Black?" Hermione stared at him. "Fine, fine! I will try to work with him. I should've seen this coming, anyway, dealing with Regulus and all…" Severus briefly thought of the things he'd seen in Hermione's memory by accident and focused on the parts that pertained to Sirius, and fought down a guilty grimace.

Hermione smiled brightly. "Thank you, Sev."

Severus's lips twitched, looking at her oddly. "Lily used to call me that all the time. It's strange hearing it again."

"I've called you Sev before," Hermione frowned. Severus shrugged.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, I have my own questions for you now," Severus leaned forward on the desk and laced his fingers together. "What happened at Hogsmeade on your end?"

Hermione took a deep breath, then began telling him everything that happened from their arrival to when Sirius was attacked. Severus listened to her, intrigued, when she detailed what she heard in Trelawney's prophecy for her, a matter that still confused her.

"From what you're saying, this prophecy is about you and the Dark Lord finishing each other off," Severus said quietly, his brows knitted together as he frowned deeply. "Did anyone else in the pub hear this?"

"Sirius heard it, but I can't speak for anyone else," Hermione said worriedly. "The pub was packed, though. I'm sure nobody else heard." Severus nodded slowly. Hermione looked frightened. "I'm…I don't know what to do, Severus. This prophecy was originally for Harry."

"And now it's yours," Severus said firmly. He no longer looked inquisitive as he gazed at Hermione seriously. "This is expected since you're the fate-changer of this new era. All you should focus on for now is finding those horcruxes and destroying them. We'll deal with the rest when we get there."

Hermione swallowed, nodding. "Okay. Right, yeah. The prophecy isn't what's important right now. Finding the horcruxes is."

"Do you have any ideas about the remaining horcruxes?" asked Severus.

Hermione bit her lip. "So the diary and the crown are destroyed. That leaves us with the ring, the locket, the cup, and a possible snake. Dumbledore had found the ring on his own, so we'll have to start figuring out where that one is. The locket, I don't know…the cup, also don't know…"

As Hermione grew more and more worried, Severus regarded her apprehensively. "We'll figure it out, Hermione. We'll start with the ring and go from there." Severus knew he was going to regret this next bit, but he went for it anyway. "Maybe we can…possibly…meet with Black and start researching together where to find these items."

The crease in Hermione's brow vanished as she glanced up at Severus in shock. "You're suggesting working with Sirius and figuring this out together?"

Severus scowled, looking away. "What's the point of him knowing if he doesn't help?" he said gruffly.

Hermione was impressed. "Yes, that'll help…I'll doing some research tonight. I'll tell Sirius about this."

Severus nodded stiffly, and couldn't help but be somewhat relieved that the overwhelming tension in Hermione that'd been present just moments ago had dissipated, for the time being at least. She was always hardest on herself, not realizing how much she had accomplished already.

xxx

High up in the North Tower, students sat sleepily in a heavily perfumed classroom, puffs of smoke coming from the incense at every corner of the room. The Divination professor was droning on about astrology charts, gesturing importantly at a constellation of Capricorn. Sirius yawned as he watched him, checking the time often as he scrawled some notes down.

At the bell tone there was a collective sigh of relief, and they all began packing their things and shuffling out of the classroom. Sirius had just squeezed himself through the circular trap door when he nearly collided into Snape.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he made to sidestep him but Snape blocked his path again. "Move along, now," said Sirius tersely, trying to go around him again but Snape moved quicker. Sirius gritted his teeth and his fingers itched to reach for his wand, but didn't particularly want to start anything, least of all with Snape.

"We're supposed to see Hermione today after dinner," Snape bit out, looking as if it physically pained him to speak to Sirius. "I assume she told you."

"Yeah, among other stuff," Sirius groused as he finally got past Snape, and started walking briskly down the stairs. Snape followed him down. Sirius regarded him with dislike. "I don't need a bloody escort."

"Don't make me vomit," Snape spat. "Since we both came from the same class just now, I thought it prudent to tell you how this will work."

"She could tell me herself—"

"She won't be coming down to dinner so she told me to relay the information personally," Severus said coldly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "These things unfortunately cannot be written in by owl."

Sirius resigned to hearing Snape out as they reached the bottom of the staircase. He could hear the loud chatter coming from the Great Hall, and the promise of food made his stomach tighten. Turning round to face him, Sirius waited.

"She changed the location from the library to meeting on the fourth floor," Snape informed. Sirius frowned.

"Where on the fourth floor?" he asked.

"She did not specify. That's all." Snape regarded Sirius with disapproval, a critical look in his eye, and his mouth parted as if wanting to say something more. He decided against it, however, and immediately snapped it shut. Without another word, Severus turned away from Sirius and made for the Great Hall.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at the strange behavior but took no mind to it; Snape wasn't somebody he cared thinking about much anyway. He joined James, Peter, and Remus at the Gryffindor table and ate as much as he could, finally feeling like he was his regular self again. The past few days had been grueling on the students as their professors loaded them with piles of work, and the first wave of exams were just around the corner. For once Sirius was genuinely worried about classes, especially with N.E.W.T. examinations that were just a few months away.

As the plates cleared away and the students started trudging out of the Great Hall, Sirius made an excuse of going to the library before separating from the group. He dawdled around the ground floor for a bit until the last of the students and professors had gone away, before he finally decided to climb up the stairs.

Many of the portraits along the staircase were empty, and the few that remained were already fast asleep. Torches burst into life as Sirius turned down to the fourth floor, and found Snape standing there already, waiting. Neither said a word.

Just when Sirius started considering knocking his forehead against the wall, Hermione ran into the fourth floor corridor, flushed and breathless.

"I'm here," she panted, hefting a large bag over her shoulder. "There's an empty classroom no one uses anymore just around the corner."

They followed Hermione to the classroom. She pulled out her wand and whispered, "Alohomora!" and once door clicked, they quickly went inside.

Hermione's eyes traveled warily between Sirius and Severus, the silence between them reaching unbearably tense and awkward levels. She busied herself by pulling out books from her bag. Sirius's eyes bulged.

"Blimey, what else have you got in there, a tent?" he exclaimed.

"I'm sure that was meant to be a joke, but there actually is a tent in here," Hermione said off-handedly. At both Severus and Sirius's incredulous stares, Hermione snapped, "I had no idea where I'd be if I time-traveled here, I had to be prepared."

Hermione spread the books before them, each one looking more worn than the next. "I picked these out from the library today," she explained. "This is where we'll start doing our research. I changed our location to this room instead of the library because it'll give us more privacy, and because I didn't want Madam Pince getting suspicious…the less anyone knows, the better."

"Why these books in particular?" Severus inquired after lifting a tattered volume that was bound several by a thick leather clasp.

Hermione raised her wand and conjured a set of comfortable chairs to sit in, then lifted it again to join several desks together into one long, sweeping table. Flicking her wand, each book gently set itself down on the new table. Once they were seated comfortably with a book in front of them, Hermione answered his question. "Back in my time, I learned a few things about Voldemort. Dumbledore also gave an explanation before I used the Time-Turner, but it's not nearly enough to find all of his horcruxes easily." She took a deep breath.

"One of the horcruxes Voldemort made was a ring. It belonged to the Gaunt family, but I have no idea who they are or why he chose to use this particular ring. My guess is they're an important pureblood family for Voldemort to even bother with them. If we find out who the Gaunts are, we might get closer to finding that ring." She gestured at the books. "These books have the entire history of the pureblood families in our Wizarding World, archives of newspaper articles, everything. I'm hoping we'll find something that'll bring us closer to where this ring is now."

Severus and Sirius nodded in understanding. "Well then," Sirius leaned over and blew across the book, sending a puff of dust flying off the cover. "Let's get started."

 

Notes:

At long last! This one was a transitory chapter and somewhat explanatory, but we all need these to set up the scene. Next chapter, the horcrux ring! Chapter title is a nod to one of my favorite shows of all time, and seem somewhat fitting for this chapter.

Thank you for everyone's support, concrit, and suggestions. You're the loveliest readers I've ever had, whether you've been with me since the first chapter or somewhere down the line. I hope I'm doing the time-travel genre justice, as well as the Marauder's era.

Thank you again to my best friend hinatas for beta'ing this chapter; without her encouragement this chapter might've been posted even longer than it already has been.

Until chapter 19 xxx

Chapter 19: Merope

Chapter 19

Merope

"You're shitting me."

Sirius's back hurt from being hunched over a table for four hours, his neck stiff and aching. His eyes felt useless and were somewhat unfocused, and Snape was no better; Snape fidgeted every few minutes as he desperately sought a more comfortable position, and Hermione was nodding off before jumping in surprise.

Sirius pressed down the archived copy of The Daily Prophet onto the table. Severus, who was sitting next to him, peered over it curiously.

"This issue is very old," Severus murmured, "1924?"

Sirius pointed at the paper frantically. "Right here, there's an article—'Marvolo Gaunt incarcerated for attacking Ministry personnel, while his son, Morfin Gaunt, receives a three-year sentence for multiple offenses against Muggles'—this has to be them! Just look at the first name, 'Marvolo'—didn't you say that's what Voldemort's name is? Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"Marvolo Gaunt," Severus repeated, his eyes narrowed. Quickly he reached for Hogwarts, A History that was sitting neglected on the far end of the table, and then slammed it open. Sirius and Hermione jumped, startled at his sudden change in demeanor. Sirius turned to Hermione.

"Can't've been an important family," he mused, frowning. "Most pureblood affairs are front page news in the Prophet. They hardly had three lines."

"They were important," Severus said firmly, sliding the large textbook towards Sirius and Hermione.

Written in deep green and gold ink, under the history and lineage of Salazar Slytherin sitting at the very end, were three names: Marvolo Gaunt, Morfin Gaunt, Merope Gaunt.

"I recognized the full name," Severus said, his lip curling in distaste, "having studied Salazar Slytherin's history for years. I've seen that name over and over. They were the last remaining heirs of Salazar Slytherin himself."

"Slytherin's heirs…" she stopped suddenly, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Merlin. Of course. 'Enemies of the Heir, beware.'"At their blank stares, Hermione elaborated, "Voldemort is the heir to Slytherin, I've known that all along! He's related to the Gaunts! And they're Slytherin's last remaining descendants!"

"I'm sorry?" Sirius and Severus asked in unison, then glared at each other.

Hermione shook her head excitedly. "In my second year, Voldemort tried coming back to power using one of the horcruxes we destroyed already," she looked to Severus, "the diary. He set loose a basilisk in the school through the Chamber of Secrets and threatened 'Enemies of the Heir, beware'—I, as a muggleborn, was naturally targeted and Petrified—"

"You were what?" Sirius exclaimed.

"—and after Harry defeated him, it was confirmed that Voldemort was behind the attack, that he was Slytherin's heir despite being an orphan, and this article links everyone together!" she finished in a rush.

"One day," said Sirius in amazement, "you're going to sit down and tell us everything that happened to you in your time. It sounds like a bloody adventure."

"Marvolo seems to be the oldest one, probably the father," Severus noted as peered down the book. "Which leaves either Morfin or Merope who married a Riddle."

"Tom Riddle had a muggle father," Hermione recalled slowly, her brow furrowing. "I remember Harry telling me…how he hated his name, how he fashioned himself a new one, an anagram that was Lord Voldemort. Merope Gaunt had to have been the mother." Abruptly, she started sifting through copies of the Prophet.

"What're you looking for?" asked Sirius curiously.

Hermione pursed her lips, fingers rifling quickly through the pages. "Trying to see…there must've been a release article somewhere…" She grew more and more agitated as she searched the pages, finally giving up when she could not find anything. "I thought there'd be an article of when they were released from Azkaban. I guess not."

Severus nudged the pile of newspapers with his finger. "How far back did you go?"

"Erm, I could only check out one paper per year from 1924 up to last year."

"And none of these had mention of Gaunts or Riddles?"

"No…what are you doing?"

Severus lifted his wand and all the scattered books and papers snapped shut and neatly folded on themselves, stacking together into piles.

"There is nothing more in these books that will help us. Our best option now is to search through the rest of the archived Prophets," said Severus decisively.

"Are you mad?" said Sirius disbelievingly. "Every single issue in the last fifty years? Who's to say there'd an article about Gaunts or Riddles—there was hardly a paragraph on the Gaunts' arrest!"

"Because, you blithering oaf," Severus hissed menacingly, "to make a horcrux, you must commit an act against the laws of nature—murder. I highly doubt either the Gaunts or the Riddles would have remained in the physical world much longer after he procured the ring, don't you think? And the prophet would surely have written about it!"

Sirius gritted his teeth, glaring at Severus with pure loathing. "The Prophet's been skipping out on reporting strange murders for a long time now, only the Quibbler has mentioned anything about them."

As they glared at each other furiously, Hermione chewed on her lower lip in deep thought. "I suspect they would've printed something, though," she murmured. "This wouldn't have been a quiet affair, though…and back then, there wasn't the terror of Lord Voldemort destroying your workplace…yes, we should check through the rest of the archive. I'm certain something would've been written."

Severus looked at Hermione triumphantly, and Sirius rubbed his face tiredly.

"Well, do we have a starting point at least? I'm not sifting through 18,000 bloody newspapers tonight," said Sirius irritably.

"Logically speaking," said Severus smoothly, ignoring Sirius's snort, "as Tom Riddle was unlikely to have known about his heritage before coming to Hogwarts, I would start during his school years."

Before Sirius could throw another retort, Hermione checked her watch. "It's late," she noted unhappily. "There's no point in risking a trip to library now. We'll resume our search tomorrow during our free period."

"But we're so close," Severus said suddenly. "We've almost figured it out, we can sneak inside somehow, there's got to be a way—"

"You want to continue researching?"

"I mean, this article with the Gaunts and then Slytherin's lineage—I can tell we're nearly there, this puzzle is almost solved. We just—I don't know, if we stop now, it might not be the same tomorrow!"

"That's ridiculous," Hermione retorted, but she knew what Severus was getting at. She herself did not really want to call it a day, her fingers itching to search some more…

She risked a glance at Sirius. His brow was furrowed, staring openly at Snape with a mixture of dislike and understanding. She knew he was tired as well, but with their new discovery, all of them had a rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins.

"Are you up for it?" she said to Sirius.

He pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose, then said grudgingly, "Yeah, what the hell. Snape's got a point. We know what we're looking for now; it doesn't feel right to just end it here." His eyes flickered to Snape briefly and rolled his eyes, turning away and muttering something under his breath that sounded distinctly like 'smug bastard' as he headed for the staircase.

"Wait," she called Sirius, and he halted questioningly. "First I have to check something on this floor."

"Check?" he asked in confusion, but Hermione was already stalking away down the corridor opposite from the staircase. Severus and Sirius exchanged wary glances.

Quietly they marched down the corridors, narrowly escaping a run-in with a prefect as Hermione grabbed Sirius and Severus's arms and shoved the three of them behind a tapestry.

The jumped apart the moment the prefect disappeared down the corner, Sirius muttering curses furiously under his breath and Severus just barely containing the urge to hex him, glowering at the tall Gryffindor.

"Stop," Hermione hissed, then continued her hurried sprint down the corridors. They reached a plain wall, distinct from the others only by a mounted oval mirror next to a suit of armor. Hermione gazed at it thoughtfully, pursing her lips.

"What is so important about this mirror?" snapped Severus impatiently. He turned to Sirius. "Do you know this?"

Sirius shook his head, frowning at the mirror. Hermione continued to stare at her reflection, ignoring the two of them. "What am I to do?" she asked the mirror. She drew forward and inspected the sides of the mirror, feeling around the edges. "Is there a password? Something I should touch? I—I want to pass."

To their surprise, fogged words spread faintly on the mirror like morning mist. Tap.

Hermione drew her wand and pressed the tip onto the glass uncertainly. Nothing happened. She groaned loudly, "Oh, what now!" Glaring at the mirror, her eyes bore through it as if trying to see behind it, or perhaps whatever enchantment had been placed on it.

"C'mon, Hermione, it's just a blasted mirror," said Sirius, feeling annoyed as well. "We should go to the library now, before it's too late—"

Hermione gasped. "Just a mirror," she breathed. "Of course! Brilliant! Yes," she spun around and strode to the wall directly across the mirror. She glanced at the mirror once more before tapping the wand against the stone, her mouth sloped in a frown of determination.

To Sirius and Severus's disbelief, the mirror suddenly sprang away behind the suit of armor, leaving a wide, gaping hole that was big enough to crawl comfortably through. Hermione beamed, walking back to the hole with her hands on her hips in satisfaction.

"How did you know that was there?" asked Sirius incredulously. "What spell did you use?"

"Is this a way out of the castle?" Severus gaped.

"I knew from my time that there was a passageway on the fourth floor that led straight to Hogsmeade," said Hermione with an airy smile. "I never got to use it since it was caved in by then, but I had hoped it wouldn't be now. Seems I was right. As for the spell, there wasn't really one," Hermione admitted. "I imagined myself getting past the mirror to a passageway, and whatever came from my wand was answer enough. Fairly good method, really, no other student would be able to accidentally open the passageway if their wand touched that piece of wall, it's all about intention—"

"Yes, yes, alright," Sirius rolled his eyes. "How did we not know about this one?" Sirius murmured under his breath, looking at the secret passageway with fascination. "We've marked all the others—"

"Well now you know," Hermione said firmly, not noticing how Severus had a glint in his eye, filing away Sirius's information in his mind. "According to you, the room it leads to can fit loads of people inside." She looked contrite. "I am sorry I had to take your discovery away from you. But time is of the essence."

Sirius was still lost. "Why not all the other passageways? They all leave Hogwarts too, if that's what you were looking for."

"But none of them can guarantee the size of a room I'm hoping for," said Hermione firmly. "I chose this one specifically because it's supposed to have plenty of space. We'll need it when we destroy the next horcrux this week."

"You seem sure of yourself," Severus noted. "You really think we'll find it and destroy it this week?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "No more dancing around the problem, or wishing there was an easier way. There isn't. I can't let Hogwarts be my limiting factor to finding these horcruxes quickly—I must leave the castle sometimes to hunt them down. It's silly to only look for them while on holiday, isn't it?"

"It does waste a lot of time during the school year," Severus muttered. "Well, what're we waiting for, then?" He looked at the passageway entrance. "Let's see where this leads to."

Severus climbed through first, then Hermione and Sirius. It was a decent-sized crawlspace with a cold draft blowing in their faces, making them shiver. The mirror slid back in place the moment Sirius passed through, leaving them in complete darkness.

"Lumos," Severus said lowly, and bright light filled the tunnel. They crawled for what seemed like ages, until Severus suddenly stopped.

"There's a small jump here," he told them. The tunnel had widened to let the three of them stretch out their legs comfortably, and the ceiling was now three feet above them. Severus shifted so his feet were in front of him and pushed himself forward. He dangled for a moment before jumping down. Hermione and Sirius moved forward to peer over the ledge, and saw Severus shaking dust from his robes. "Seems you were right about the size of this room, Hermione."

Hermione pushed her legs forward and jumped off, and Sirius followed. It really was a small jump, and would be easy to climb back up to. Hermione lit her wand and held it high, and saw the high ceilings and wide berth of the hidden room. It was made entirely of metal and dust, large enough to hold two hundred people comfortably.

"Blimey," said Sirius, impressed. "Who would've thought this giant room was hiding underneath Hogsmeade?"

"We need to find the exit," Hermione gritted her teeth against the cold draft. It was coming from somewhere…Hermione followed the chill and pressed her hands against the walls, finding nothing. Severus and Sirius followed suit, and all three of them traced the cool air to where Hermione was pounding her fist against the metal wall. "Come—on—" she said through clenched teeth. Sighing, she stepped back. "Do you think it requires a spell?"

"I don't think so," Sirius mused, biting his thumbnail thoughtfully. "No, I can't feel any magical traces here. There's no enchantment hiding an exit. It's really basic, something muggle."

"You can feel magical signatures?" asked Severus curiously.

Sirius shrugged, messing his hair uncomfortably. "More often than not," he said. "It's really easy once you get the hang of it."

"It's really not," Severus replied suspiciously. "It takes decades to master that kind of magical harmony."

"Then those wizards weren't very good then, were they?" Sirius snapped. Severus said nothing.

Hermione sighed again, pressing her forehead against the cold wall. She felt the draft waft over her head gently, and Hermione paused. She glanced up, her mouth parting, and exclaimed, "There!"

Severus and Sirius looked up. "You're joking," Sirius moaned. "What idiot put a door on the ceiling that's that high!"

"It's an old bunker," Hermione realized. "Not sure how it ended up here, but it explains the size of the room and the metal walls. I'm sure there's some kind of ladder…" she searched around the room, but came up with nothing. In the end, Severus conjured a ladder and propped it against the wall below the metal trap door. Hermione climbed up carefully until she reached the top. A wheel was in place of a handle, and she pocketed her wand, gripped the wheel, and grimaced as she tried to turn it. It screeched loudly, making shivers run down her spine as metal ground against metal; she could see the rust around the edges and felt pieces of paint chipping off against her hand, until finally the wheel gave way and a great clunk sounded in the room. She glanced down nervously at Sirius and Severus, who nodded encouragingly. Her stomach turned slightly at how high she was, and weakly looked away. Setting her jaw, Hermione pushed up against the trap door. When it did not budge she pushed harder, groaning, her arms starting to protest and the ladder creaking under the pressure—but suddenly it began to lift, and dirt was sliding down the edges of the door, falling from the earth that lay above, until Hermione had cracked it open enough to see the outside.

"What do you see?" Sirius shouted.

Hermione scanned the area carefully before slowly setting the door back in place. She spun the wheel and descended from the ladder, jumping the last step. "Trees," she said breathlessly. "The village is far away. We're near the end, close to the mountains. We bypass Hogsmeade entirely."

"Brilliant," Sirius grinned. "It'll be much easier, not having to sneak past Hogsmeade."

"So this will be the path we take to get in and out of Hogwarts?" asked Severus.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, pushing herself up on the ledge of the tunnel. "We'll take this path to leave the school and destroy any horcruxes we find in the room."

They were silent as they made their way back to the castle. By the time the mirror slid again to hide the passage entrance, the three of them were tired and covered in dust.

"Ready for the library?" Hermione asked wearily. Sirius and Severus moaned incoherently.

"Tomorrow," Severus's eyes were closed, as if trying to Apparate to his bed. "Tomorrow."

They silently agreed, and trudged back to their dormitories. Sirius and Hermione winced at the Fat Lady's loud complaints for waking her up in the middle of the night.

"Some night," Sirius yawned.

"Great night," Hermione corrected, leaning against the girl's dormitory door tiredly. "And we have lots to do tomorrow. Sorry the passageway thing took so much time. I didn't realize how far the tunnel went."

Sirius waved it off absently. "Makes no difference. See you tomorrow, Hermione." He looked at her properly, his eyes briefly losing all traces of fatigue as he smiled down at her. Hermione smiled happily in return, and quietly slipped inside her dormitory.

xxx

The next morning the unlikely trio rushed straight to the library before breakfast. Just as Severus had predicted, an article had indeed been written of Morfin Gaunt during the time of Tom Riddle's school years.

"Murdered a family of muggles nearby and then admitted he did it," Sirius read quietly. He looked at Hermione, bitterness in his gaze. "Sounds like Voldemort's style."

Hermione grabbed the paper and read it rapidly, grimacing. "He killed the Riddles. And….yes…it took place in Little Hangleton." Hermione glanced at Severus and Sirius determinedly. "I bet you anything that somewhere in this town, a horcrux is hidden. Voldemort, he—he did everything personally. Every place the horcruxes have been, it was well thought out and meant something to him. He killed those muggles and framed his uncle for the murder. He had to have hidden a horcrux in the town that more or less was the reason he was born."

Severus nodded slowly. "We don't have much else to go on anyway, might as well go see what we can find."

"I guess all that's left is deciding when to go," said Sirius as he folded up the old newspaper.

Hermione bit her lip. "When should we go?"

Sirius replied, "We need to sneak out so nobody knows we're gone, and it'd be better if we did this in daylight. It's far too dangerous even for us together to go lurking in an unfamiliar town at night."

"And when is that?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't see how all three of us are going to sneak out of Hogwarts in the middle of the day unnoticed."

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," Severus said suddenly. He looked from Hermione to Sirius. "While everyone's rushing to get to the village, we'll just slip away through the passageway."

"Last I checked, Little Hangleton wasn't a brisk walk from Hogsmeade," Sirius said dryly. "How exactly do we plan on getting there?"

Before Severus could retort, Hermione intervened. "I'll Apparate us there."

"You passed already?" said Sirius, surprised.

"I passed when I was a sixth year in my time, Sirius," Hermione said patiently. "It helps that you two have been practicing, though; it'll be less of a shock for you."

"Saturday morning, then?" Severus asked.

Hermione pressed her lips, looking between the two boys, and nodded. "Saturday morning."

xxx

"That's the third owl this week," Scabior smirked at Regulus's disgruntled glare as a prim black owl dropped a thick envelope onto his empty breakfast plate. "Did you win the Galleon Draw? Are you holding out on me, mate?"

"You very well know what these letters are," Regulus said moodily, tearing the letter up immediately. "More congratulations for being a world class coward."

"Not this again," Scabior took out his wand and lazily waved it over the shredded paper. They immediately melded together, reforming into a crisp letter. "You're not a coward. You're bloody brave, that's what you are. No one else could've done what you did—what you did it for."

Regulus sighed, running a hand tiredly through his dark hair, and began opening the letter with an air of resignation. "You were smart," he muttered. "You didn't get involved."

Scabior mirrored his sigh and began piling food onto his plate. "Not so much smart as apathetic," he said plainly. "Nobody takes me seriously, not even myself. Besides," he shrugged, "I'm not nearly high up in the breeding like yours truly—"

"I don't give a damn about blood purity!" Regulus burst out loudly, earning him several fierce glares. Scabior's eyes bulged.

"Hush up now!" Scabior hissed, his eyes shifting nervously over the glaring Slytherins. "I know you don't care anymore, gods! It won't help if you shout about it. Have you forgotten where you are right now?"

"I don't—" Regulus swallowed, his body rigid with anger. "I don't want you saying that about your status."

"I was joking!"

"Don't even joke about!"

"Alright! Damn it, alright. Keep your socks on." Scabior shook his head, distracting himself with a large gulp of pumpkin juice. "Was only trying to cheer you up. Clearly bad form. Now stop your sulking and eat." They sat in silence for a few minutes, Scabior chewing thoughtfully, until he said idly, "Mind you, my family is actually quite brilliant. I may not have blue blood but I do have blue brains."

Regulus choked on his toast. "I don't think that's real."

"It is. I've taught you nothing these past months, then, it seems."

"Speaking of teaching," said Regulus, "are we practicing today?"

Scabior snorted in his eggs. "What's left to practice? You've bled me dry, Black. Haven't got any spells left in me."

Regulus made a face. "We've got to do something. I can't stand sitting in the common room anymore, hearing them all gloat and holding out their arms all delicately. They're idiots."

"Of course they are," Scabior said easily. "And once you get your chance—which I suspect you will soon, as there're, yes, two more owls sending their regards to you right now—you can pull rank and send them to Romania or some shit. Convince them there's dark magical artifacts in dragon dung."

Regulus was caught between a groan and a laugh, shaking his head as two more letters fell onto his lap. Grinning, he stuffed those in his robe as well. "And then send them to the cave trolls."

"Cave trolls?" a voice sneered. Regulus's smile dropped as Avery took a seat beside him. "Off to see your family, then, Scabior?"

"Oh, we really don't want to go there, now," Scabior drawled. "Didn't your cousin marry a muggle magician who runs a circus in Leeds?"

Regulus snorted loudly, covering it with a generous swig of water. Avery clenched his jaw.

"You watch your step," he growled. "Things are changing 'round these parts now. Loyalty is everything."

"I'd say I'm a loyal bloke," Scabior smiled widely. "Don't even need a pretty little drawing on me arm to prove it neither." Avery's eyes narrowed.

"This is boring," said Regulus coldly. "Let's go." Avery glared at Regulus as they stood, but said nothing. A rush of satisfaction surged through Regulus's body, the letters in his pocket suddenly lighter as he walked with Scabior to the grand staircase.

"Damn," Scabior raised his eyebrows. "That was something else." He looked at Regulus and grinned, grabbing him by the neck and messing his hair. "Pulling rank already, eh?"

"Thought I'd give it a try," Regulus replied, a hint of true bred haughtiness coming into his voice as he fixed his hair. "Honestly, the amount of respect he receives is laughable. I have no idea why he's leader."

"You'll be leader soon," said Scabior. "Then you'll shape up those tossers. Teach them the real beauty of the Dark Arts, teach them the sight beyond the convoluted lies they're following like the bloody fools they are—"

"'Convoluted'?" Regulus repeated. "You must be blue brains after all."

"Oh fuck off."

Regulus grinned, the sensation somewhat strange for he hadn't done it in a while. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but Scabior...well, he didn't like to think of what it would be like to go through everything without him. His eyes wandered until they met the group of students walking opposite them, and the smile disappeared instantly.

He averted his eyes and looked straight ahead. Through his peripherals he could tell that at least one of them had looked his way. He ignored it.

Scabior made a noise of annoyance. "You'll have to talk to them eventually, you know."

"I know," Regulus muttered. "Just not right now."

"Why the hell not? I'm sure Snape's filled 'em in by now, figured it all out. And Granger's got a temper, so the fact that she hasn't hunted you down and hexed your eyebrows off, I'd say you're in the clear."

"It's not that simple," Regulus said tersely. "If you're so eager, why don't you talk to her."

"Maybe I will," said Scabior boldly. Regulus looked at him calmly, calling his bluff. His mouth parted in surprise when Scabior turned right around and went down the staircase, walking quickly to catch up with Hermione.

Regulus looked away bitterly and increased his speed up the staircase. He was far too early for class, but definitely wasn't going to head back to the Great Hall and resume breakfast. He supposed he could head back to the common room…

Someone swore next to him. A boy's bag had ripped open and tumbled several books down the staircase. Regulus paused. He started to bend down and pick up a textbook when the boy looked up, "Oh no, that's alright, thank—" he froze. Regulus's eyes widened, halting his movement. "Ah."

"Lupin," Regulus stated. Lupin was already looking away, moving quickly in gathering his things. Regulus's eyes traveled to his tattered bag, noticing the several patches of darned corners with mismatching colors. His mouth sloped downwards. Despite his initial instinct, Regulus glided down the stairs with an air of indifference, bending down to pick up a fallen quill and a ratty old book. Lupin glanced up when Regulus held them out to him.

"Thank you," he said politely. He waved his wand dexterously over his bag and resealed the tear, then stuffed the books back in. Lupin stood up and shouldered his bag, now taking the time to fully look at Regulus. "That was very kind."

"I'd call it something else," said Regulus curtly.

Lupin smiled genially, and Regulus narrowed his eyes. Regulus sometimes resented Lupin for this very reason, for no matter how unpleasant someone was to him, Remus Lupin would always be kind.

"I heard you'd been to see Sirius," said Lupin, jolting Regulus from his thoughts and catching him off guard. "After he was attacked at Hogsmeade."

"I—no, I didn't," he lied. Lupin smiled.

"Ah. I must have been mistaken, then."

Regulus scowled, feeling once again the child he'd been when Sirius first introduced Lupin to him all those years ago, back when he wasn't at Hogwarts yet. Remus Lupin had always unnerved him the most.

"You look terrible," he said unpleasantly. It wasn't entirely a lie, either; Lupin's hair was limp and straw-like, his skin sunken with dark circles as if he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in days.

Lupin sobered. "Yeah," he nodded, shrugging. That was that, then, Regulus supposed. Lupin gave him a vague smile and hurried down the stairs for breakfast. Regulus watched him oddly and gave himself a shake. So much for avoiding Gryffindors.

xxx

"Hello again, beautiful," an elbow was suddenly resting on her shoulder, and Hermione scowled. "Long time, no see."

Hermione groaned.

"Oi! Is that how you greet your friends?" said Scabior, offended.

James, who was staring at the exchange with increasing confusion, said, "Friends? You and Hermione?"

Scabior's eyes found James's, and they lit up. "Don't you remember, now? How this little witch sat at our Slytherin table during meals when you lot turned your nose up at her?" James's eyes bulged and his cheeks went pink. Sirius scowled beside him.

"Where's the tosspot? Aren't you two usually attached at the hip these days?"

"He helped me in the stairs, actually," Remus strode towards them, breathless, and they all took a seat at the Gryffindor table with Scabior and Hermione sitting a bit further away. Sirius's brows rose.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Remus shrugged lightly, thinly buttering a slice of toast. "Old bag tore again."

Sirius frowned, then clapped Remus's back. "You have got to get a new one, mate," he said. "Even magic's got its limits."

"I know," Remus agreed with a heavy sigh, one which Sirius knew meant yes, you're right of course, but I don't actually plan to spend money on a new bag. "Where's Peter?"

"Still sleeping, I'd wager," James cut in, finally tearing his eyes away from Scabior and Hermione. "Poor chap stumbled into the dormitory at five in the morning, studying all night."

"Please tell me it was for our midterm exams and not the N.E.W.T.s," Sirius moaned. "At this rate he'll burn out before Christmas!"

"Both," James informed sadly. "He's got the right idea, though. We've got to take those exams seriously…I haven't even started on any of our essays…"

"That's because you can write them all the night before they're due and still receive the highest marks in our class," Remus retorted, and Sirius chortled into his water goblet.

"Didn't know you were jealous, Moony," James said under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You must not know me very well," Remus smiled, "there's plenty to be jealous about."

James's smile faded. "Pretty bad this time, yeah?"

Remus shrugged, his hands fiddling with his goblet. "It's the weather. Makes my joints hurt more somehow…it's always harder becoming him—that—in the winter."

James and Sirius frowned, then leaned closer and began speaking quietly. Lily walked by them with her eyebrows raised, then took a seat next to Hermione, not noticing who was sitting near them.

"Morning," Lily said pleasantly. "So for today's meeting, I thought we could start with defensive spells—"

"Meeting?"

Lily looked up and saw a boy wearing a Slytherin tie sitting across from Hermione. "Hello?"

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, "he invited himself here—"

"Name's Scabior. We've met before." Scabior grinned at Lily appreciatively. "What's this about a meeting?"

Lily's eyes slid to Hermione, but couldn't read her expression at all. Lily turned back to the Slytherin.

"It's about House-Elf rights. I'm sure you wouldn't be interested."

"Ah, but to me it is. What's this about defensive spells, then?" Scabior inquired interestedly.

"Nothing," Hermione interjected, looking sharply at Scabior with a meaningful look that Lily didn't understand. "We'll talk some other time."

Scabior smiled, somewhat more gently this time, and exhaled. "Some other time, then." With that he stood up and strolled away.

Lily frowned. "Odd. What was he talking to you about?"

"Nothing much, really," said Hermione, shrugging. "What were you trying to tell me earlier? The defensive spells?"

"Yeah," Lily quickly unrolled a sheet of parchment and showed it to Hermione. Hermione glanced up as Lily explained, watching Scabior's retreating back until he left the Great Hall.

Scabior made his way back up the staircase and headed to Charms. The room was vacant, and Scabior sat himself in a seat far back and crossed his feet atop the desk. He was early, but knew he wouldn't be sitting alone for long…

Ten minutes later the door opened and Regulus shuffled in. He blinked when he saw Scabior already sitting, and slid into the seat beside him.

"Had a nice chat?" Regulus asked coolly. He wouldn't meet his eyes. Scabior shrugged lightly.

"Eh, I've had better." He watched until Regulus glanced up at him, smiling faintly as the corners of Regulus's lips tugged upwards.

"Honestly…?" Regulus asked quietly, his voice low and tentative.

Scabior sighed dramatically. "Honestly?" He gently nudged the side of Regulus's head. "You'll be fine."

xxx

"Hermione, what are we doing here?" Sirius growled as they stood, shivering, near the greenhouses. Behind him, Severus was sulking quietly.

"If it's potions ingredients I assure you I can find them on my own time," Severus hissed through his chattering teeth. Hermione had called them abruptly to meet outside the greenhouses, leaving the two boys cloak-less and shivering.

"No, it's—well, it's a loophole. Since we'll be going on our trip soon, I figured now was the best time to do this." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and peered through greenhouse one, waiting. "He's always lurking in this greenhouse around lunchtime…"

"I'm starting to hate your vague explanations," Severus glowered. "You really should have been in Ravenclaw."

Just then, Hermione shushed them and stepped back. They waited with held breath, until the sound of a man humming grew closer and closer. Suddenly a translucent figure glided from inside the greenhouse and towards Hermione, Severus, and Sirius.

"My word!" Sir Nicholas yelped, startled as he almost ran into Hermione. "Don't you know better than to frighten a ghost?"

"What happens if you frighten a ghost?" asked Sirius curiously.

"Just wait and find out!" Nicholas started towards him threateningly until Hermione blocked his path.

"Sorry, sorry! We just, er, came to chat with you," Hermione said, flustered. "We need your help."

"My help?" asked Nicholas, puzzled.

"Yours specifically."

A smile broke across Nicholas's face and his chest puffed out pompously, the frills on his ghostly shirt fluttering as he seemingly forgot his previous ire. "Anything, my dear girl, anything! I am indeed of the most noble of the ghosts, and to help a member of my own House is the greatest service I can give!"

Severus, who had never spoken to Sir Nicholas or been his presence for longer than a second, had to fight to hold in his laugh. The end result was a constipated grimace.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled gratefully. She turned to Sirius and Severus. "You two, go away for a bit."

"What?" Sirius blurted, and Hermione glared.

"Go!"

Once they were out of earshot, Hermione returned to Nicholas. "I was hoping, if you could, sort of…look at this wandwork I'm about to show you and then go and show it to my two friends over there that just left. Only to them. And please don't tell anyone about this."

"You want me to be like some sort of—of—messenger, or parrot?" asked Nicholas, affronted. "The insult!"

"I can't show it to them myself, or else I wouldn't ask," said Hermione desperately. "Please, Sir Nicholas. You're the only one I could turn to."

"Ha!" Nicholas snorted. "Well, well….who am I to turn away a young student in need…very well, I shall do as you requested. Remember this, little Gryffindor, remember when your House Ghost aided you…and perhaps write to the Headless Hunt sometime for me? I still can't believe they won't let me in…"

"Of course," Hermione beamed. "Okay, so this is how it is…"

Behind the greenhouse, Sirius kicked at the deadened grass and crossed his arms. "What do you think they're talking about? What the hell are we even doing here?"

Severus's eyes slid to Sirius's distastefully. "Keep quiet and wait."

Sirius scoffed. "Bucket load of fun you are."

Severus glared. "Let's get something clear, Black. We are not, nor will we ever be, friends. So you can piss off."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Oh shove a broomstick in it, will you? You think I want to be your friend?" He laughed even harder as Severus gripped his wand tightly inside his school robes. "The day that happens I'll eat my own hair. Friend," he chuckled. "Things may be changing, but nothing could ever change this."

They were facing one another, their bodies tense with repressed anger and words they were itching to release. Sirius's sardonic smile did not waver as Severus bared his teeth.

"I say, I hope you won't bloody the lawn," Sir Nicholas said dryly. The two sprang away from each other immediately.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Severus.

"Waiting," Nicholas replied in a bored voice. "Now if you please, watch as I do and remember it quickly. I'd like to escape this humiliation before the Fat Friar spots me…" He lifted his arm, pointing his index finger out, and performed a wand-like wave that looked like a backwards seven that trailed into an upwards curve. Sirius blinked several times, and Severus frowned in confusion.

"Sorry, but what is this?" Sirius said as Nicholas continued the movement three more times.

"Can't tell you, but it looks absolutely absurd," Nicholas sniffed. "Have you memorized it, then? I can't leave until you do."

"I—I think so?" Sirius said unsurely. He glanced at Severus, who was pulling out his wand and started trying to mimic the movement. Sirius drew out his own and tried to duplicate it as well.

"You're putting far too much flourish in it! Calmly, calmly…not that calmly, you don't want to be asleep…yes, that's more like it…"

It turned out that Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington was an abysmal instructor, with little patience and too many adjectives at his disposal. Eventually, however, Sirius and Severus got the hang of the wand movement, and were relieved when Nicholas announced he would be leaving.

"Your work is satisfactory," Nicholas smiled. "Now I must go before it's too late." Without another word, he flew away speedily towards the castle.

Seconds later Hermione ran towards them, a wide grin on her face. "You learned it?"

"What did you make him teach us?" demanded Severus. "I really don't like being uninformed, Hermione, least of all learning a spell without knowing what it is."

"Remember a while ago I told you I couldn't teach you the counter curse to fiendfyre? That Scabior had made me sign an agreement that said I couldn't tell a living soul how to perform said countercurse?"

"…Yes?"

"Well," said Hermione with a glint in her eyes, "Sir Nicholas isn't living."

Sirius eyes widened. "That was your loophole. You showed Nicholas the counter curse and made him show it to us!"

Hermione nodded. "Granted, I was still scared that it wouldn't work and I'd get struck by lightning or die horribly, but it worked out fine. And I'm sure neither of you have perfected the wand movement, but since I didn't tell you or teach it to you myself, you can learn the rest from my example." She sighed wearily. "For now, if the time ever comes where you need to extinguish fiendfyre, you know how to do it. Merlin knows you may need to if things don't go perfectly during our trips."

"Let's hope it doesn't reach that point," Sirius said darkly.

"This was…admirably brilliant," Severus admitted. He smiled a little, the kind he rarely showed except for his friends, and it made Hermione's heart soar. She could tell he was angry at something nonetheless, and it wasn't particularly difficult to guess what it could be about.

"Tomorrow," Hermione said firmly. "We'll meet on the fourth floor after breakfast. We'll feign a reason why we aren't going to Hogsmeade and then slip away through the passageway. And try dressing in muggle clothes; you don't want to stand out too much when we get there."

"Should we bring something with us?" asked Sirius.

Hermione pressed her lips together nervously. "Only your wands."

xxx

The next morning when Hermione's eyes opened, dawn had not yet broken across the horizon. The sky was eerily blue, the kind that was vibrant yet dark, as the stars retreated into the clouds. The fire from the furnace was long since dwindled into dying embers, and with a shiver Hermione slowly slipped out of bed.

She padded down the stairs and into the common room, where the fireplace was unlit and the faint remains of moonlight streamed through the arched windows. She sat on one of the sills and tucked her knees against her chest, watching flurries of snow softly falling on the rolling hills of Hogwarts. The Black Lake was just starting to freeze over, and if Hermione closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself back in the future, where she belonged, where her life was, where she grew up and sat on this very window sill and watched the sun rise. In those lingering moments, Hermione imagined herself at home.

When she started hearing the sleepy grumbles of the seventh years getting ready for the day—as they were the only ones willing to wake at the crack of dawn to study—Hermione returned to her dormitory and changed into her day clothes. Within an hour the rest of the girls were starting to wake up and excited chatter filled the air as people planned on which shops they would visit first at Hogsmeade.

Lily was at her bed the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed in warm mittens and scarves. "Ready for our adventure, Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled wistfully. "Sorry Lily. I don't think I'll be going today."

Lily's face crumpled. "What—why? No you can't, you have to come, Merilla and I were going to take you to the Honeydukes and teach you how to get free fudge from the vendors!"

"I'm not feeling well," Hermione unconvincingly tried looking pained. Lily was skeptical.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You were fine last night…"

"It's a bug," Hermione waved vaguely, "it'll pass. I'm just not up for a huge trip out in the cold, you know?"

"Do you want me to go to the hospital wing?" Lily asked worriedly. Hermione panicked. The last thing she needed was Madam Pomfrey interfering.

"No!" she exclaimed. Lily raised an eyebrow, and Hermione smiled sheepishly, "No, no that won't be necessary. Just—just gonna take it easy for now. I should be fine by tomorrow."

Lily regarded her closely, then shrugged. "Alright. Hope you feel better, Hermione. I'll bring you some sweets!"

With that Lily strode away, her vibrant red hair swinging behind her. Hermione sighed guiltily. She didn't like lying to Lily anymore…after all the kindness and unwavering support she'd shown Hermione, and the more secrets Hermione held from her, the more difficult it was becoming to continue lying to Lily. In the beginning it hadn't been very hard, for they weren't very close at the time and Hermione, in her rationale, had concluded that maintaining her emotional distance from Harry's parents would be best. It had been a selfish thought, more for her own self-preservation than for their safety or to preserve the timeline. Yet when fate had thrown her into James's life as a sister, and Lily as her first and best friend, she knew things would be different.

She waited until the girls had entirely emptied out of the dormitory before pulling on her winter coat and bundling herself in a thick scarf. She didn't know when she would tell Lily the truth. She would be angry, and Hermione was afraid of it. It was inevitable, for Hermione would be angry too if Harry had kept something as big as this from her. But it didn't change the fear, and selfishly, Hermione wanted to keep things the way they were for as long as she could manage. She still had a duty to protect the people she loved, one she took upon her own volition, and the fact remained that the more people who knew about what Hermione was doing, the more harmful it would be to them.

For now, Lily did not need to know.

With a heavy heart, Hermione sat back on her bed.

In the boys' dormitory, Sirius chewed his lower lip apprehensively as he sat in his bed, watching his best mates quickly getting ready. He hated this part. The part where he had to lie to his friends…it went against everything he stood for. And lying meant there was no trust, and Sirius trusted his friends above everybody else in the world. They were family to him, and…this didn't feel right.

"What's wrong, Padfoot? Aren't you going to get dressed?" James leaned against his bedpost inquiringly. Hearing James's question made Peter and Remus glance up sharply.

"You're not coming?" Remus asked anxiously.

Sirius looked at Remus, then to James and Peter, all wearing the same expression of confusion. He hated himself even more as he spoke.

"I…can't come this weekend." James and Peter's eyes boggled. Sirius went on half-heartedly, "I have a lot to catch up before term ends and…" Lie, say you have to study, say you're not feeling well—

"Oh, fuck it. I'm seeing Hermione."

Sirius held his breath. Remus merely blinked.

"Okay. See her at Hogsmeade."

Peter folded his arms expectantly.

Sirius sighed. "You know how Hermione's on this hell-bent mission of dismantling the Death Eaters and all that? How she's doing it on her own?" said Sirius. Three heads nodded. "Yeah, well, she's not going at it alone this time. She's up to something and it's pretty dangerous and I'm going with her."

"Where in this castle will it be that dangerous?" James deadpanned.

"He's obviously not staying at the castle," Peter rolled his eyes. "Where're you going?"

"I can't tell you that," Sirius admitted gloomily. "But we'll be back really quickly, and I'll head down with you on tomorrow's trip."

He looked at James, and he wasn't entirely happy, but he didn't seem to be putting up a fight. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a half-smile. "I don't like this at all of course, you all know that already, but if you're going to do it anyway…I'm glad you told us. At least now when we're worried sick, we'll know what you're up to."

Sirius smiled gratefully, then made a face when James roughly messed his long hair and walked away. Sirius flattened it back, and Peter wished him good luck. Remus still hadn't said a word.

"Remus?"

His brows were knit together in a slight scowl, but the moment Sirius spoke Remus looked up and shrugged. "Would've been fun if you came, but it's alright," he smiled.

Sirius grabbed his arm as he started to leave. "Mate," Sirius looked troubled. "Come on."

Remus smiled genially. "Don't worry about it. See you at dinner." Sirius's fingers slipped from his arm, and Remus left the dormitory.

xxx

Severus looked between Hermione and Sirius skeptically. "You two are certainly cheerful today. Surprised Black even had muggle clothes. Leather?"

"Piss off," Sirius said wearily. Hermione sighed.

"Let's just get this over with," she said under her breath. They reached the fourth floor and Hermione tapped the wall opposite the mirror. They climbed inside the passageway and traveled in silence, shivering the further they went. Finally the tunnel widened and they jumped down the landing, their sounds echoing on the metal walls. Severus lifted his wand and conjured the ladder again, propping it against the wall where the hatch was.

"Who wants to go first?" Hermione asked. Sirius and Severus both grunted, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Just like old times. "Guess that's me." Tightening her scarf and double checking that her wand was still in her pocket, Hermione began to climb. Once she was halfway up she heard Severus climb on, then Sirius after him. Hermione reached up and spun the wheel to the trap door, her muscles protesting against the unrelenting metal, and sighed in relief when the door finally gave way. Slowly, she pushed the door up.

Cold air whipped at her face as she peeked outside. Carefully, she climbed out, her legs trembling unsteadily on the snowy ground, and glanced around to make sure she was alone. Peering down the hole, she called, "Come on up!"

Within moments all three were standing in the snow, cold from the icy wind and sweaty from the climb. Hermione buried her face into her scarf until just her eyes peeked out, shivering.

"Where to?" Sirius shouted over the wind.

"Little Hangleton is in England, and I'm afraid I can't Apparate that far yet," Hermione shouted back. "We'll have to Apparate twice, once to get out of Scotland and another to get to Little Hangleton. For safety, let's walk half a mile out before we Apparate out of here."

Sirius and Severus nodded in agreement, and Hermione led them towards the mountains until even the faintest tip of Hogsmeade was no longer visible. The wind began picking up, and Hermione buried her nose deeply into the woolen scarf. "This is far enough," she called, taking out her wand. Severus and Sirius stood on either side of her, huddling close, and she held out her arms for them to hold onto. "Ready?"

They nodded apprehensively. "Okay," Hermione drew them closer with her elbows and both squeezed back, whether it for preparation or with fear, Hermione would never know. Gripping her wand tightly, she concentrated and held her breath.

She fought to keep from gasping. Her body felt as if it were being forced through an extremely small hole the size of a pin; she was contorting and moving fast through space and time, and Hermione felt nauseous. It'd been more than a year since her last Apparation, and it was more unpleasant than she remembered.

Finally the spinning stopped and they staggered onto the ground, gasping for breath. Hermione straightened, and Severus was the next to recover. He was still breathing shallowly when he turned to Sirius.

"What's—the matter—Black?—Haven't—haven't got the—"

"Another word and I'll kill you," Sirius said hoarsely, holding onto his knees. Severus turned away, groaning and bending down on one knee as he tried to regain control over his stomach.

"Sorry," said Hermione sheepishly. "We may have gone a bit further than you're used to. Than we're all used to, honestly."

"It's alright. Let's get a move on," Sirius finally straightened, looking considerably less green than he had a minute ago. He went as far as to reach down and haul Severus to his feet, roughly thumping his back.

"Where now?" Severus asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Just the second Apparation."

It must have taken all their willpower not to protest, but Sirius and Severus simply walked back towards Hermione and grasped her arms. "This one will be shorter, don't worry," she reassured. "Hold on."

The second Apparation was easier, and by the time they landed in Little Hangleton, they were still standing upright and unfazed.

Hermione shivered, but it was not from the cold…the air around them was still, the roads vacant and quiet, as if time had suspended her altogether.

"Merlin…" Sirius whispered. He looked at Hermione. "You feel it, right?"

"Yeah..." Hermione trailed, glancing around. "There's something heavy lingering in the air."

"This place is stale. Almost angry," said Severus uncomfortably.

"You think it's cursed?" Sirius asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "There's certainly a cursed artifact hidden somewhere here. The whole town isn't cursed, though. Just…something bad happened here. You can tell."

"It's one of the places Voldemort was most angry," said Severus quietly. "Violent magic like that leaves an impression."

No one spoke as they mulled over his words. Hermione started down the path, glancing left and right as they went deeper into the town. It was as if they were walking through an abandoned village, silent and still, except the homes were far from decaying. It made her nervous.

As they reached a fork in the path, Hermione pointed to her left. "According to the archives, that road down there leads to Marvolo Gaunt's shack. The road to the right is where the Riddles used to live. I'm not sure which one Voldemort would hide the horcrux in." As soon as the word left her mouth, a deep chill filled her and the air grew even colder.

Sirius glanced around warily, reaching for his wand but not taking it out. "Did you hear something?"

"I think," Severus said carefully, "it would be best not to use certain words here. It's stirring something that's best left untouched."

Hermione nodded anxiously, "Yes…let's get moving…we'll take the road on the left. He prides that family name more than the muggle one."

They moved quickly, not wanting to spend a lot of time in Little Hangleton, for the longer they stayed the more apprehensive they were all feeling. The air was growing thicker now, harder to breathe in, and the path was now a plain dirt road. The snow had made it muddy, and Hermione was grateful she'd thought to wear thick boots. Finally they arrived in front of a little shack, beaten and old, visibly neglected for decades. "This is it," Hermione said shakily. She turned to Sirius. "Do you feel the magical signature?"

Sirius nodded grimly. "It's definitely there. The whole damn house is cloaked in the thickest, most foul kind of magic…terrible things have happened here."

"But is it active? Can you tell that?" Severus asked urgently, forgetting his usual sneer and sarcasm. "We could be walking into a trap."

Sirius pressed his lips together in concentration. "No…I mean—I can't tell that kind of stuff, so I'm not sure. I only know that dark magic has touched this house before, and that it's fading. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hermione said emphatically, touching his arm. "That's more than enough." Steeling herself, Hermione drew out her wand. "Take out your wands," she said to Sirius and Severus. "Don't use it unless you have to. You still have the trace on you, and I don't think being around me will be enough to negate it." They complied instantly, and Hermione took a shaky breath. When she turned the doorknob, it was locked.

"Not surprising," she muttered, pointing her wand at the door. "Alohamora."

She yelped in surprised when her wand went flying in the opposite direction. The door had disarmed her. "What!"

"Are you alright?" asked Severus urgently, concern in his voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine—the door disarmed me! There's definitely some kind of enchantment over this place, weak as it may be."

Sirius walked over and grabbed the wand from the dirt, holding it out for her helpfully. "I don't think magic will be the answer to getting in, then," he said mildly.

"Then we won't use magic," said Severus firmly, and started rummaging through his pockets.

Hermione held out her hands, "Okay, wait, we need a plan. This could be more dangerous than the other hor—the other items we already collected and destroyed. We never had to find one outside like this, we don't know what's in there!"

"And what could we possibly do to find out other than go in?" Severus raised an eyebrow challengingly. Holding a small, thin rod, he muttered, "I'll need to borrow this for a second," as he reached behind her bushy hair and plucked out a hairpin. Bending down onto one knee, he started picking the lock.

"Good old-fashioned muggle lockpicking," Sirius grinned appreciatively. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"It's good to know," Severus replied, and ignored any subsequent questions. He wasn't particularly keen on sharing his half-muggle upbringing with the likes of Sirius Black.

After a few minutes of jangling, the door clicked and swung open.

"Curious, don't you think?" Hermione noted as they went inside, "that the only way to get in was without magic?"

The shack was scattered with broken plates and boarded windows, bits of pottery shattered on the wooden floor. It took less than a minute to scout the entire house; two small bedrooms were across the kitchen, and next to that was a small, moth-eaten sofa with layers of dust.

"Hang on," Severus frowned as he checked the two bedrooms. "Didn't you say three people lived here? Where's the third room?"

"Maybe they shared?" Sirius suggested.

"No, there's no indication that more than one person lived in each bedroom," Hermione murmured, inspecting each bedroom. Each had only one bed and a wardrobe with tattered clothing, and a wooden table with news clippings. The second bedroom had a table with strange objects sitting on it; a bone-needle hair comb, snake skin preserved in plastic casing, and oddly shaped rocks.

"Here." Severus was standing in front of a broom closet, his hand on the doorknob, staring silently. Hermione inhaled sharply.

A flower-patterned cloth was laid out on the floor with a flattened pillow. Next to the pillow, almost to the ground, the letters m-e-r-o-p-e were scratched into the wooden wall. Hermione bent down and traced them carefully, her throat tightening. It had been engraved with fingernails.

"This…is horrible," Severus rasped, and Hermione nodded as she pressed her lips together. "This closet would hardly fit a child." He looked sickened.

Sirius said tonelessly, "Terrible things have happened here."

Hermione's hand trailed over the flattened pillow idly. It was hard and unrelenting, and couldn't have been easy to sleep on…she paused when her hand brushed something cold and stiff underneath the pillow sheet. Her heart thundered when a familiar skin-crawling sensation crept up her spine. She felt for the object again, her eyes going wide when it moved between her fingers…as if it were a ring.

"Do either of you have a handkerchief?" she asked, her voice trembling. Sirius patted down his leather jacket and quickly handed Hermione a white cloth, fleetingly noticing that the initials S.B. were sewn in the corner. Swallowing thickly, she pushed the metal ring further out from the pillowcase until it dropped onto the flowery bed sheet.

And there it was; the same hollowness that entered her heart, the same emptiness that threatened to shroud her mind…and a strange symbol was inscribed into the black stone, a triangle with a circle inside, and a line intersecting it…

Shaking her head, she quickly wrapped it with Sirius's handkerchief and stood up. "This is it," Hermione murmured, holding out the white cloth. "It was in the pillowcase. He…he hid it in his mother's room…"

Unnerved by the strange Gaunt shack, the trio quickly left and headed back to their Apparation spot. Hermione secured the horcrux in her pocket and made sure to button it before grabbing Severus and Sirius by the arm. With a crack, they disappeared.

"I never," Sirius panted as they ran back to the trap door, "want to go there again."

"You won't have to," Hermione answered breathlessly. She kneeled down to unlock the door, grunting as the wheel resisted, and Sirius and Severus bent down to help. The wheel gave way easily, and they scurried inside.

Once Hermione dropped down onto the metal floor, she immediately ushered Sirius and Severus to the tunnel exit. "You three wait up on the ledge and back away as far as you can," she warned. "Actually, it's best if you leave altogether."

"Not in a thousand years," Severus hissed. "Are you forgetting what happened last time?"

"What happened?" asked Sirius, looking back and forth between Hermione and Severus who were currently glaring at each other.

"That was a diary," Hermione snapped, annoyed. "It was different. This is just a ring."

"And the crown was just a crown," said Severus sarcastically. "Hermione here was paralyzed under the influence of the diary horcrux—the soul had projected itself to Hermione and read her thoughts, forcing her to see the worst of her memories. I helped her get out of that," Severus turned to Hermione, glaring, "and only then was she able to cast fiendfyre and destroy it."

"You can't stay there alone," Sirius said immediately. "At least let us stand inside the room."

"Are you forgetting it's made entirely of metal?" Hermione shouted frustratedly, her hands curling into tight fists. "I don't want you getting even a little burned, this is cursed fire! If it looks like I need help then do whatever you want, but right now I need you to do as I say and stay in the tunnel!"

They looked like they were going to fight her on it, but they grudgingly walked towards the tunnel and hopped onto the ledge. Satisfied, Hermione unbuttoned the pocket in her robe and pulled out the wrapped cloth. She felt it thrumming against her fingers, heard the faintest whispers caress her mind. Kneeling, she placed it on the floor and unwrapped it.

The tiny black stone glinted in the wandlight, showing the emblem again. The gold band fit delicately around it, and Hermione was almost tempted to reach out…just one touch….

Hermione shook her head hard and saw her fingers were outstretched, edging towards the ring. She got up instantly and backed away, muttering, "What is this, The Lord of the Rings?"

She took several deep breaths, gripping her wand tightly. She turned her head, staring at Sirius and Severus one last time. They nodded encouragingly, identical grim expressions on their faces.

This time, she closed her mind. This time, she glared at the horcrux with scrutiny, unafraid of what it had to say, of what it would do. Because it couldn't harm her, not like this. It was all mind games and trickery, sweetened whispers that would turn brutal the moment it realized it was under threat. A smile tugged at her lips.

The horcrux desperately tried to react, sensing impending danger, but it was not fast enough; Hermione slashed her wand high in the air and instantly, the world was aflame.

She heard it screaming, wailing, cursing; she could feel it writhing in her heart, agonized and hateful and promising revenge. "You are pathetic," she muttered, hoping that Voldemort could hear her words as she stood over the vulnerable, exposed sliver of soul that was dying. Fire whipped around her like an inferno, and Hermione lifted her wand higher, spinning her arm around her, controlling the flames. She'd never done it before, never realized she could until now, watching the hated ring spin madly with rage and torment. It was exhilarating, and before she knew it she was laughing. The flames laughed with her, licking appreciatively at the metal walls and pummeling the ring until it screamed no more.

A voice inside her told her to let it burn on, keep the flames spinning high in the air, and Hermione wanted to. But as the ring came in sight again, the strange emblem still intact, Hermione drew a sharp breath and blinked. Raising her wand, she quickly whipped it into the counter curse, and the fire disappeared.

Stillness like no other met her ears. The aftermath of the fiendfyre curse spread about her in all its scorched beauty. The walls were blackened, hot to the touch and the air was unbearably hot. Sirius pointed his wand up at the trap door and muttered a spell, causing it to fly open and let the fumes escape.

Severus was in front of her at once. "Are you hurt?" Hermione dazedly looked down at herself and was surprised to see not a single bit of damage to her clothes. Even her hair—wild as it was—was untouched.

"I'm fine," said Hermione, amazed. Distractedly she walked around him and bent down at the ring. It was most definitely dead.

The golden band disappeared in a puff of dust when she reached for it. The black stone, however, remained.

"It's still there?" Severus peered over her curiously. Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully.

Hermione shook her head. "It's safe. The horcrux is gone. This…must be a very powerful stone for it to have survived fiendfyre."

They stared at the stone as it reflected in the light, the strange symbol now divided by a thin crack.

Notes:

Thank you everybody for your kind words! You make me so happy with your comments! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

As always, thank you to the effervescent hinatas for beta'ing this chapter! You are a shining beacon of light in my life.

Until chapter 20 xx

Chapter 20: Ginger and Rum

Chapter 20

Ginger and Rum

Coarse wind blew hard across Hogsmeade, sending tendrils of snow flurrying through the air. Lily's cheeks were flushed as she rubbed her gloved hands together and trekked through the densely packed streets of Hogsmeade. There was a nervous fluttering in her heart, her eyes flitting the little shops warily as she and Alice maneuvered through the crowd.

Alice gave her a little nudge. "Are you okay?"

Lily nodded somewhat distractedly. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Really?" Alice said skeptically. "You're holding onto that wand pretty tightly for someone who's fine."

"I don't know," said Lily honestly. Biting her lip, she pointed at the Three Broomsticks. "Let's get some butterbeer first, yeah? I'm freezing."

Walking inside the little pub was an instantaneous relief; Lily and Alice sighed as warmth washed over them, and Lily peeled off her frozen gloves then shoved them in her pockets. Her bright green eyes scanned the room as they made their way to a vacant table, noticing several hooded figures in cloaks sitting scattered about the pub. She could hear Alice ordering herself a drink but didn't pay it much heed, too busy eyeing the people surrounding her…

"Lily."

Alice was frowning. Lily blinked.

"What?"

"You tell me." Alice folded her hands on the table, gazing at her expectantly. Lily's temper flared.

"Shocking as it may be to you but I'm not actually an Occlumens, so you'll have to tell me what exactly you're talking about," Lily snapped. Alice continued to gaze at her steadily, and a small fraction of Lily's subconscious shrank with guilt.

"You haven't been able to stay still since the moment we left Hogwarts," Alice said softly. "I think you know why."

Angry words bubbled in her throat, but they just as quickly died down. Lily exhaled slowly, though it did not relieve the tenseness in her body. "Alice," Lily's voice cracked a bit, and pressed her lips in a thin line. "I can't help it. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time. What if…what if someone actually gets hurt this time? Or worse?"

Alice leaned closer, dropping her voice. "They've placed security everywhere since the attack," she said gently. "It won't be like last time. Dumbledore's made sure of it."

"Maybe," Lily said quietly. "Maybe nothing will happen. But I—I can't help but have my guard up, Alice. I can't help it. Without realizing it, I've counted six people in this pub with their hoods drawn up. Another four are here all alone, sitting without food or drink." She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe it herself. "I keep touching my wand to make sure it's there, I've replayed in my mind exactly where to go if someone throws a curse at us. I'm being careful."

Alice's eyes widened. "Merlin, Lily...I didn't realize how much this affected you. I thought you were just being paranoid."

"I am paranoid, Alice, I admit it. But so what if I am?" said Lily, her eyes glittering with passion "What does it matter if it means I'll be safe? If I can protect the people I care about? Paranoia doesn't just happen on its own, Alice, there's always a causality. And this—whatever it is—it's not going to go away for a long time. Maybe never. Can you honestly say you're not afraid?"

Alice lowered her eyes, shifting uneasily. "…No," she admitted, shaking her head a bit. "I'm very afraid. It's hard not to be, after what happened last time. I suppose I'm not used to seeing you afraid, and it's worried me."

Lily looked at her hands. "I'm not as brave as you think."

Alice shook her head again, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's always so fascinating to me when others don't realize what they're capable of. You, Lily Evans, literally have no clue what you're like to the rest of us." At Lily's inquiring look, Alice elaborated. "We all remember how you fought against them, you know. It's why so many people showed up at the first defense meeting. You stayed out longer than you had to. You could've gone in first, gone to safety like most of us did. But you didn't. You were quite literally dragged into a shop by McGonagall herself."

"I had to," said Lily, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I couldn't just leave, there were kids still out there, little ones! I know I'm a fair dueler, I knew I had to be out there helping."

"That's exactly it, though, isn't it? You looked out for us."

"I had to," Lily repeated, miffed at Alice's insistence and struggling to find words. "And I was far from brave, I was terrified out of my mind the entire time."

"Bravery doesn't mean you're not scared," Alice said wisely. "I won't argue with you over semantics. Point is, you're the strongest person I know, you're annoyingly brilliant, and you're my best friend." She reached over and circled Lily's wrist with fingers. "I've got your back. I know where my wand is as well."

Lily stared into Alice's baby blue eyes and felt something waver inside her heart, the tightness in her chest slowly unclenching. She worried her lip, unable to say much more.

Alice drank deeply from her mug and gratefully allowed Lily her silence. Draining the last bits of the butterbeer, Alice licked her lips and sighed before going very still. Lily quirked an eyebrow curiously. A slow smile started to spread on Lily's lips when Alice suddenly stretched wide and tousled her hair, shaking it violently. Lily hid her snort as several people gave her strange looks. It had been an old game of theirs, and Lily couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for her, knowing she'd only done it to make Lily laugh.

"Well done," Lily applauded as Alice straightened her hair.

"How many this time?" Alice whispered furtively.

Lily glanced about the pub lazily. "Hmm…if you include Madam Rosmerta…eight."

"That's two more than last time!" Alice squealed excitedly.

"Quite right. Even Frank Longbottom gave you a sidelong look, and you know how much effort it takes to pry his attention away from that old Herbology textbook."

Alice suppressed a smile. "You have to do it too now. Come on, Evans. That prefect badge has stripped away the devil-may-care hellion I so knew and loved."

Lily made a face. "Alice, when I do the hair thing, I get offers to take me to St. Mungos. I think it's the red hair."

"It's not the hair, just bad luck."

"I'm still trying to forget the last time, Alice."

"Lily."

"The last time, Alice."

"Just do it, Lily, it'll be fun."

"Nott, Alice. Nott. Alice, Nott."

"Oh don't be so dramatic—"

"Then that wizard without teeth—"

"—you made Zed Bastet do a double-take—"

"—he was missing teeth, Alice, his dentures fell out—"

"Lily, yes—"

"Lily no!"

"I'll do a Witch's Dare," Alice challenged, her eyes shining brightly.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "A Witch's Dare? You're bluffing," she laughed, but Alice stared back solemnly. "Merlin, you're serious."

"Course I am. Lily Evans hair flips are as rare as unicorn blood."

"Is that why I'm cursed to explicit mortification every time?" Lily grimaced, glancing around surreptitiously. "Fine," she acquiesced, holding out her hand and twirling her wand in the other. Alice took it immediately. "I propose a Witch's Dare. You will perform the task of utmost embarrassment I choose for you, at any time or place I so desire, or be cursed with…" Lily pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Frog's breath. For two days. Do you accept my Witch's Dare?"

"I accept your Witch's Dare," Alice recited, her eyes gleaming.

"Then perform or be warned," Lily finished the spell's lines, and a thin blue wisp of air streamed from Lily's wand tip and curled over Alice's wrist like a bracelet. "That'll be fun to explain," she smirked.

"I expect it will be," Alice said as she held up her wrist to her gaze and shook around the blue air bracelet a bit. When she turned back to Lily, it was now Alice's turn to smirk. "Now, flip."

Lily sighed and unwillingly took off her hat. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it, smoothing out the tangles. Giving Alice one last exasperated look, Lily slowly stood from the table and sauntered towards the bar in what Lily hoped to be an unaffected glide.

"One butterbeer with ginger and lime, please," she said to Madam Rosmerta. Her eyes darted around quickly. She feigned a yawn and stretched her arms, then generously flipped her long, flaming red locks by bending down first and then whipping her head back up.

She cringed when heard someone splutter behind her.

Instinctively she whirled around—not the best mode of action, for it made her hair whip around again—and the spluttering grew louder. Behind her stood James Potter, whose face was pinched in a sour grimace as he attempted to rid the taste of Lily's hair from his mouth.

"Potter?" she blurted.

"Regrettably," he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. "Good thing I've got these glasses to protect my eyes."

"I'm so sorry," Lily apologized, gratefully taking the butterbeer that Rosmerta had placed onto the bar and steered James towards the table where Alice was sitting. Seeing her approach, Alice positively beamed.

"That's twelve for you, including Potter's mishap. Sorry about that, by the way," Alice tried looking somber for James. "I suppose it was the color that gave you away…always looks like you've set a fire when you wave that hair around."

"I can't believe you got me do that," Lily muttered darkly, trying to tame the flaming heat that seemed to be permanently adhered to her face. "Was it worth really worth the Witch's Dare?"

Alice smiled secretively. James, on the other hand, was intrigued.

"A Witch's Dare? Really?" James was impressed. "Blimey, I haven't done that in ages. Not since second year, at least. Mind you I made one with Remus, which was absolutely terrible because on the outside you think 'oh Remus, here's a nice bloke, wouldn't make me do anything too terrible' but he's bloody ruthless. Never made the mistake of underestimating him again."

"What's this I'm hearing about me?" Remus sauntered over to their table with Peter beside him, their hands filled with drinks. "Are we sitting here?"

"Yeah, why not," Alice ushered them, and Lily pulled out two extra chairs for them. "James was just regaling an incredible story of your last Witch's Dare."

Remus smirked. "Ah, yes. The knickers incident of 1972. Best day of my student life."

"That was because of you?" Lily's mouth dropped, her throat bubbling with laughter. "Oh my god! We thought Potter got hit too hard in the head by the bludger!"

"I had," said James irritably, and Peter howled in laughter. "I also had that damned blue bracelet around my wrist and Remus decided to enact the dare under his breath after the win. I hadn't a clue what was going on until I'd stripped to my undergarments on my broom fifty feet up in the air."

Alice and Lily shrieked in laughter as Remus smugly sipped his butterbeer. Peter was skeptical.

"Sounds sketchy, mate…part of the Dare is to 'perform or be warned'…I think you wanted to strip on the Quidditch pitch."

James smiled serenely. Lily wrapped her arm around her stomach as it began to cramp, wiping away moisture from her eyes. James's eyes were filled with mirth, grinning with her in a show of good humor. Lily felt lighter than she had before she'd walked in the Three Broomsticks, and—dare she say it—more than when she agreed to the Witch's Dare. She gazed at James a fraction longer after their laughter died down. It took her some time to realize she was still smiling at him.

"This requires another drink," Alice announced as she hopped out of her chair and disappeared through the growing crowd of customers.

"Damn shame Sirius couldn't be here to hear this," Peter chortled as he took a generous bite from his bangers and mash.

"Is he not here?" Lily asked in shock. "I never knew him to skip a Hogsmeade trip."

"He had more important things to do," Remus said quietly, his eyes trained on his mug. James and Peter looked at Remus oddly but said nothing. Lily glanced between the three boys.

"Er…"

"Let's get you something a bit stronger, mate," Peter clapped Remus on the shoulder and helped him up. Remus unwillingly allowed himself to be dragged towards the back of the pub, presumably to try to nick some alcohol from the older students, leaving Lily and James alone at the table.

James smiled sheepishly. Lily couldn't help but smile at his hopeless expression. "Is he alright?"

James blinked. "Who, Remus? Oh yeah, he'll be fine. He's a bit on the rocks right now, you know…with his mum and all."

"Yes, I heard about that, it must be so hard," Lily frowned sympathetically. "It's been going on for six years now. He's so kind to go visit her every month."

James smiled easily. "He's a good lad. Always had a big heart."

"Big heart and big mind," Lily nodded. "He says the most fascinating things during prefect rounds, you have no idea. He knows so much, he literally explained to me about gravitational lensing—did you know about that?"

"The thing with the stars, right?" James grinned. "Remus bloody loves astronomy, despite the lunar phases—" he stopped short suddenly, and Lily raised a brow.

"What about the lunar phases?" Lily asked. "What, did he fail them on the OWLs or something?"

His eyes were wide but they relaxed instantly at Lily's question. "Yeah, he got marked down on the lunar phases and hasn't been happy about them since," James shrugged. "But he spent two hours explaining black holes to Sirius and me, and speed of light, magnetism—his mum's a muggle scientist, you see—she wasn't always, but after Remus was born she ah, found a calling so to speak—so when he's not learning Hogwarts stuff here he's reading muggle science."

"Good for him," Lily was impressed. "He mentioned some of that to me, but I didn't realize his mum was a scientist. I wonder what kind?"

James shrugged. "I can never remember." He glanced over Lily's shoulder with a pout. "I wonder where they've gone off to."

"Alice has been gone a while too…" Lily craned her neck to check the bar, and to her relief she found Alice chatting up with Amelia and Frank. "Never mind."

A strange silence stretched between them, then, as Lily and James glanced about the crowded pub. Lily did not know why she felt like talking to James a bit more, surprised that she hadn't had a single moment of wanting to throw a book at him. The thought made her pause to scrutinize him.

James noticed. "What?"

"We had a civil conversation just now, Potter," Lily crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd jot that down in my diary, if I were you.

James chuckled, inclining his head. "The day is young, Evans. Anything can happen."

Lily smiled warmly. "It's a shame no one was here to witness it."

"Eh, Sirius wouldn't have believed me anyway," James shrugged unaffectedly.

"Where is he, by the way? I wonder if he's sick as well."

"Sick?"

"Hermione wasn't feeling well in the morning and skipped out too," said Lily, worrying her lower lip. "She seemed a bit off…I do hope she's alright."

James regarded her wordlessly.

"What?"

James shook his head. "Nothing, yeah? I'm gonna go look for my friends," he took his glasses off and started cleaning them briskly. "Strange about Hermione, though." Putting his glasses back on, he stood up. Before leaving, he gave one last warm smile. "See you later, Evans."

Lily watched him go, shocked. What had made him leave so abruptly? More importantly, why did it matter so much to Lily that he was gone? Shaking her head, Lily rejoined her friends and quickly forgot all about James Potter and his smiles.

xxx

By midday the weather had not calmed down one bit; the snow had stopped but the wind was still going strong, and by then Lily was already quite tired. Departing from her friends who wished to stay longer, Lily slowly trudged back to the castle and imagined herself warm and in a bath, preferably with a heaping mug of hot chocolate.

She went straight to the girls' dormitory, hefting a bag filled with sweets that she bought for Hermione. But when she got there, the dormitory was empty. Puzzled, she checked the shared lavatory and found that empty as well.

"Hermione?" she called.

She heard a crash. It had come from the boys' dormitory.

Had someone else come back? She didn't see anyone else heading back to the castle, nor had anyone elected to stay…she checked the time. The younger students would be having lunch right about now, the dorm should've been empty…narrowing her eyes, Lily took out her wand and stealthily approached the boys' dormitory. If anything, she could call foul play and hand out a few detentions.

She paused by the door and held her breath, listening in for another sound. After a few moments, another loud crash and a string of curses came from inside. Gritting her teeth, Lily turned the doorknob and threw the door open.

"Who's in here?" she demanded. A tuft of hair and a pair of dark eyes peeked over one of the beds. Lily gaped. "Remus?"

"Ah," Remus gave her a stiff smile, then disappeared behind the bed again. Lily strode over towards him and saw his trunk had been thrown open, piles of clothing and books flung around him in disarray.

"I didn't know you came back…bit early for packing, don't you think?"

He didn't look up. "Not packing…searching…."

Lily looked at him questioningly, watching him check on the bottom of his trunk. "A-ha!" he pulled out a small bottle with strange green liquid inside. He stood up and brushed himself off, turning to Lily with a strained smile. "Now, I'd very much like some privacy, please."

"Sure…you look a bit pale, though, are you feeling well?" Lily asked, concerned. Something darkened in Remus's eyes, but he smiled and shook his head.

"I'm absolutely fine. I just need a bit of time alone here, so if you please."

"I don't think...Merlin on a broomstick, is that absinthe?" Lily's eyes rounded comically once she was finally able to read the label on the bottle. "Where did you get that? You're underage, you can't drink this!"

"I'm three months from being seventeen, it's perfectly fine," Remus placated, starting to usher her towards the door.

"Remus you're a prefect! You can't go around drinking absinthe in the middle of the day! You have to put that back." Lily twisted out of his way and put her hands on her hips. Remus's smile was starting to slip, revealing a very pained and frustrated expression. He was looking paler by the second. Lily shook her head. "You understand I can't let you drink that here, right? You're—I don't even know what to say right now, honestly."

Remus sighed quietly. "It's alright," Remus he nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry I put you in this position, Lily."

Lily started to smile, but it disappeared when he tipped the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply. Shocked, Lily rushed forward to snatch the bottle but Remus evaded her effortlessly, licking his lips while making a face.

"What the hell, Lupin!" Lily shouted angrily. "Don't make me pull my wand at you!"

Remus gazed at Lily in a way that made her stop. Her eyes widened at what she saw reflecting in his eyes. "Please do," he muttered, and Lily was afraid at his sincerity. Her eyes darted to his bedside table, and was shocked to see an empty bottle.

"You drank all that already?" she said weakly, indicating the empty absinthe bottle. Remus shrugged, not meeting her eyes. Pursing her lips, she said softly, "Let's sit down. If you're this determined to get piss drunk, I certainly won't allow you to be alone while you do it."

Remus gave her a guarded look but said nothing. They walked over to his bed and sat down. He took another sip, this one smaller. "It doesn't affect me that much, to be honest," he said quietly. "It takes about two whole bottles of this for me to start feeling anything."

"Hilarious," said Lily dryly, but noticed he was looking with an unmistakable look of seriousness. "What, you're serious? That's impossible."

"Six years ago you didn't even know magic existed, but you think my ability to burn off alcohol faster than the average human is impossible?"

"I…I suppose it does sound silly when you put it that way…." Lily watched him take another swig from the bottle, grimacing as he swallowed. "Can you at least tell me why you're trying to get smashed as fast as possible?"

Silence again. Lily fought not to roll her eyes. "Did something happen with James and Peter? Did you get in a fight?" Remus shook his head. "Is it about Sirius? I saw you tense up when his name came up at the pub." Remus was still for a moment, then shook his head. "God, you're elusive as Hermione, but in a completely opposite way. She's mastered the ability to talk for ages while not saying a single thing. You, on the other hand, refuse to open your mouth. You can see why this is incredibly frustrating for me."

Remus had made the solemn decision to be as unhelpful as possible while Lily sat next to him, but it did not deter Lily for a moment. Remus seemed to be upset, and in a desperate attempt at something, chose to resort to absinthe for relief. She sat there as he made his way halfway through the bottle, and Lily secretively cast medi-spells on him with her wand to make sure he really was alright. To her amazement, he really wasn't drunk at all; if anything, he was only just starting to get buzzed.

The spell ended up being redundant, however. She knew the moment Remus had become properly drunk: he started to talk.

"Just hurts, y'know?" Remus gazed at the ceiling tiredly. "Everywhere. Bones aching. Smelling everything. You didn't shower this morning. Stuff like that."

Lily spluttered. "How—what?"

Remus waved her away idly. "It's worse in the winters, but this time…bloody hell it hurts. Nobody understands but bless them, they're trying. I'm the coward hiding in my room drinking ruddy absinthe."

Not understanding where he was going, she tried changing the topic. "Any idea where Sirius is? Hermione's missing as well."

Remus snorted loudly. "Ah…together, somewhere. Can't tell. But it hurts…" he drank the last of the bottle, and sent it clattering on the floor.

Lily sighed. He was far gone now, too far gone for Lily to get anything helpful out of him. She expected he'd be passed out in ten minutes anyway, and decided to wait it out until he fell asleep. She glanced longingly at the door, wondering what the bath would've been like had she not ventured to the boys' dormitory. But what Remus had just said…Sirius and Hermione were together somewhere? How would he even know that?

A thought suddenly occurred to her. She looked at him tentatively. "Remus…this is about your mother, isn't it."

Remus paused in his ceiling-gazing, lifting his head to look at Lily properly. He stayed that way for several moments before bursting into laughter.

"My mother!" he snorted, shaking his head carelessly. "Oh, my mother, so beautiful. Got a picture here somewhere…would've been better if she really were ill rather than me being this way…that's horrible to say, but when you've changed as often as I have…"

"So she's not sick?" said Lily, confused. "Wait—you're sick? Remus," she reached forward and pressed her hand against his forehead and yelped. "Good god, you're burning! That's not normal, people never get that hot!"

"I'm not normal, and I'm not people, so I guess it should be fine," Remus shrugged unconcernedly. He tried to get up. "I think…I have another somewhere…maybe James has it…"

"You are not drinking another bottle of that vile poison," Lily said firmly, and pushed against his chest so he fell back onto the bed. He made no further attempt to stand. Instead, he resumed his blank gaze at the ceiling. "Perhaps I should get Pomfrey."

Remus smiled humorlessly. "Don't waste your time. She already knows. I'm also thirsty?"

"What is it, then?" Lily inquired with concern. She reached for his hand and found that burning hot as well, but Remus didn't seem to be sweating profusely or shaking.

"Can't you guess? You got straight O's on the OWLs, didn't you? You're smart, Evans, you must've guessed?"

Lily looked at him like he was speaking nonsense, which he definitely was right now. Drunk Remus was just a patronizing version of Sober Remus, actually spitting out things he normally thought in his head but would filter it into kindness. Lily found it almost amusing.

Right now, however, she was too busy worrying that he had somehow sealed his fate with alcohol poisoning and was itching to call Pomfrey, and shook her head at Remus's question. He rolled his eyes.

"God, Evans, I expected more."

Lily scowled in annoyance. Suddenly Remus sat up, leaning quite close to her, and said, "Awooooo." And promptly began to giggle.

That was the last straw. "Remus Lupin I don't care how drunk you are, if you try cat-calling or—or dog-calling me again, I will hang you upside down in this dormitory and let you stay there until someone finds you!" Lily sprang up from the bed in disgust. Remus was stunned.

"What? No—no you've got it wrong! Oh bloody damn this all, course you wouldn't get it—right, go on, leave already, give me some peace. Door's over there." He gestured behind him and sank back on the bed. "Door is way over there…still here?"

"Still figuring out if I should hex you," Lily snapped.

"You'd better decide quickly, you don't want to see me tomorrow night." Remus finally rolled off the bed and rummaged through his trunk again, glass clinking here and there until—Lily couldn't believe it—another bottle.

"Oh no, no you don't—Remus!" Remus was already drinking and waving Lily's arms away as if swatting a particularly annoying fly. Lily finally managed to swipe the bottle from his hand. "Rum? Do you have a whole store in there or something? What has gotten into you? I can't stand by and watch you do this to yourself anymore!"

"That's not your decision!" Remus snarled, jumping to his feet and trying to snatch the bottle back. "None of this is any of your decisions—getting bitten by a werewolf was certainly not my decision! Now I am choosing to drink so my bones don't ache as much, and I'm choosing to do this preferably by myself, so pardon me Evans but piss off!"

Lily's eyes went round, numbly allowing Remus to take the bottle from her motionless fingers. She stood rooted to the spot, watching him sit on the bed and lean against the post, drinking deeply. He stared at his lap as he capped and uncapped the bottle with idle, restless hands, never looking at Lily. Slowly, Lily stepped towards him and sank down next to him on the bed. Remus flinched.

Lily swallowed thickly, and turned to look at him. He…was hunched over, his body tense. The bottle was still, as if he'd lost all interest in it.

"Look at me, Remus."

Remus stiffened. She waited patiently, watching as slowly raised his eyes and slowly turned his head. He wasn't quite looking at her eyes, but every few seconds she'd catch his gaze. He seemed almost afraid.

"When did it happen?" Lily asked softly.

His Adam's apple bobbed before replying stiffly, "Very young. Before I came to Hogwarts."

Lily nodded, waiting a moment before speaking. "James, Peter, and Sirius…they know." It wasn't a question, for she knew the answer. Remus nodded imperceptibly. "Explain to me then, if your best friends already know, why you're sitting in your dormitory drinking by yourself?"

Remus finally looked at her properly, genuine surprise registering on his features. "I…you're not…?"

"No." Lily's gaze was firm. "Never."

Remus looked torn, and he looked down at the bottle. "I told them to stay at Hogsmeade. Said I needed to be alone for a bit. They know I'm drinking."

"They know you're drinking three bottles of absinthe and rum?" Lily raised a brow.

Remus's head lowered. "No. They don't know I drink this much when it gets bad."

Lily inhaled slowly, and shifted a bit so she was sitting close to him. "It's the pre-transformation aches, isn't it? That's why you're using this stuff to numb it down. You know it'll hurt even more after the transformation, right?"

Remus shrugged. "It's the lesser of the evils. I heal much more quickly after I've transformed than before." Despite saying that, though, he let the bottle slip from his hands and drop onto the floor. He turned to look at her, his eyes fierce and piercing.

"You can't tell anyone."

Lily nodded solemnly. "I won't."

"You're not afraid?"

"I'm not."

"You should be."

"Why would I be afraid of you? You feed the birds outside every evening before prefect rounds."

"It's different now."

"…You don't feed the birds anymore, then?"

"You know what I mean, Lily."

"I honestly don't," Lily frowned, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms over her chest. "If you seriously think I, of all people, am going to have problem with you being a little different, you don't know me at all." Remus continued staring at her skeptically, and she punched him lightly on the arm. "C'mon, Lupin, it's not the end of the world. It's just something that's once a month. It doesn't take over your entire identity. Just think about vampires—they can't go in broad daylight or else their skin starts sizzling. That's already loads better than what you've got. And they're completely iron deficient, always needing supplements." Remus stared at her speechlessly. She went on, "And you're not the only one who gets something once a month," Lily gave him a dry look, and Remus's lips started to twitch. "At least yours is for a day, mind is seven damned days of the week. I'd wager my entire life savings that the aches you're feeling are similar to menstrual cramps."

Remus started to laugh, and Lily grinned. "I'm serious! You've never had them, you have no idea! You know they're like labor pains? I literally give fake birth every month. Hormones, higher testosterone levels, soreness, irritability, I mean honestly Remus, you really should've come to me first."

"My mother did tell me she felt like murder every month," Remus remarked, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "At least she doesn't have claws or the mind of a monster."

"You haven't met my sister," Lily said darkly, and Remus laughed harder. She bumped her shoulder against his. "We've all learned everything there is about werewolves, Remus. I don't have a problem with you turning into one sometimes. It's who we are inside that matters."

Remus smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, Lily."

Lily smiled back, patting his back. "Now, no more of this. I suspect the full moon is tomorrow, right? Right. If you asked me, I'd come down to the dormitory and stuff my face with all this chocolate I bought today. They were for Hermione, but I'm sure she won't mind if I shared."

Remus smiled tentatively. Convinced, he and stood up with her to head to the common room and paused, wobbling just a bit. He suddenly looked very green. "Oh. This is no good."

Lily tapped her foot patiently as he bolted for the bathroom.

Once he was done (he was a much less wobbly and a lot more grumpy that he'd expelled all the expensive alcohol), they sat in front of the fireplace and Lily shoved five chocolate frogs in his mouth with several coconut balls, a heaping of fudge flies, and several cups of tea. She listened patiently as he spoke, nodding every once in a while, but allowed Remus the explosive rant that had been on his mind for what she suspected to be a very long time.

Once he had finished, an amiable silence now between them, Lily checked her watch and glanced about the room. "I think I should check the infirmary. Maybe Hermione is there. I'm getting worried now."

"Why would she be there?"

"She wasn't feeling well earlier, it's why she didn't come to Hogsmeade today. I just hope she's alright."

Remus looked at her carefully, not saying anything. James had given her an eerily identical look at the pub earlier. Lily scowled.

"What is it? Why does everyone look at me that way when I mention Hermione?"

"She…she hasn't told you anything else?"

"No…should she have?"

"No," said Remus firmly.

Lily looked at him oddly, then thought back to what he had said when he was getting drunk. "You said Sirius was with her," she said slowly. "Earlier, you said that. How do you know that?"

"I'm sorry I said that," Remus said immediately, and the look in his eyes told her he was being genuine. "That's not my story to tell. I shouldn't have mentioned this at all, forget I said anything."

"I sure as hell can't forget anything now, Remus." she tilted her head incredulously.

Remus put his cup down and looked at her seriously. "Everybody has their secrets, Lily. Sometimes you have to trust that they'll tell you when they're ready."

Lily sat quietly for a moment. Then she asked, "Does Hermione know that you're a werewolf?"

Remus blinked. "…Yes. She's the only other one to know."

Lily stared down her chocolate frog, lost in thought.

xxx

As the fire erupted from her wand tip, enveloping her in a blanket of coiling, hissing flames, Sirius's grey eyes reflected red.

Fiendfyre was both wild and tame, forming into the shape of a dragon and spreading it's fiery wings with a deafening roar. He could hear it screaming; a shrill, chilling sound that didn't quite resemble a human. In just a second the metal room was filled with malice and evil and rage like Sirius had never witnessed before…

And yet, it was impossible to look away. His eyes were watering at the intensity of the light, his lungs starting to struggle against smoke in the air, but it was almost as if he were in a trance. In the midst of the chaos stood Hermione, gently circling her wand in the air and the flames obediently followed her moves, never straying from her intent. They weren't even close to the ledge, much to Sirius's astonishment. He watched her as she stared down at the shrieking horcrux with a smile, before suddenly starting to laugh.

At that moment, something compelled Sirius to look at Snape. His face was calm, not going through nearly as much turmoil as Sirius was…the sight was familiar to him, the heat of the fiendfyre curse was something that didn't unnerve Snape as much as it did to Sirius.

The fire disappeared. The horcrux was dead, Hermione was still and unhurt, and Sirius let the door open to let the fumes of the fire escape. The stone was intact, but Hermione assured them the soul was most definitely dead. Looking at it all made his stomach turn.

"Let's head back," Sirius suggested quietly. "I think we've spent long enough in here."

Snape closed the trap door and they all shuffled into the tunnel, making the long trip back to the castle. It was quiet, with somewhat less triumph than Sirius had expected. The horcrux was destroyed, they snuck in and out of the castle without being caught or disturbed…for all intents and purposes, he should've been happy. They all should have.

Yet the tired frowns on Snape and Hermione said otherwise. They'd done this before, Hermione had done it three times now, and they did not seem surprised by the aftermath. It was a victory for their hunt, but not as satisfying as Sirius thought it would be. Instead, it left him feeling wrong inside…and sad.

Snape quickly headed for the dungeons, leaving Sirius and Hermione to make their way quietly back to Gryffindor tower.

"That was…something," said Sirius.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah."

"Is it always like that?"

"Like what?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just…that."

"The first time was a disaster," Hermione explained. "I almost burned down the Shrieking Shack. The second time was a little better, but I still didn't have complete control until the very end. Almost burned down the forest. This time was the first time I had total control." She paused. "It was…exhilarating."

Sirius glanced at her. "You liked it?"

"I…no. No," she repeated more firmly. "I don't like dark magic. It's just. Holding that much power, you have no idea what it feels like until it's under your control. I've never felt anything like it before."

Sirius made no reply for the rest of the walk up the staircase. The common room was full, students chatting excitedly about the upcoming Christmas holiday while some played a tournament of Exploding Snap.

Sirius checked the time and groaned. "Oh bloody hell, we missed dinner."

"Did we really?" said Hermione, crestfallen. "Want to grab something from the kitchens?"

"Yeah, sure. But I'm not going anywhere until I've had a good long shower. I still smell like that old shack."

Hermione agreed and headed straight for the girls' dormitory, sharing Sirius's sentiments; she wanted nothing more than to scrub Little Hangleton and the horcrux from her body.

After a long shower, Hermione went back into the dormitory as she dried off her hair. She caught sight of Lily sitting on her bed with a book propped in her lap.

"Had fun at Hogsmeade?" said Hermione, walking up to her.

Lily glanced up, closing the book. "A bit," said Lily. "I couldn't find you when I got back. Where've you been?"

"Oh, the library," Hermione replied easily. "I always finish up the assignments before holidays start."

"Really? I was just there, I didn't see you." She held up the book in her lap, the cover titled Moste Potente Potions. Hermione faltered.

"Ah, right, well, I went for a walk afterwards."

"And are you feeling better?"

"Hm?" Hermione blinked. "Oh, yes! I feel completely fine now."

Lily narrowed her eyes for a fraction of a second, but quickly dismissed it and reopened her book. "I bought you some sweets from Honeydukes," she pointed to Hermione's bed. "I hope you don't mind Remus and me went through some already."

"Not at all," Hermione grinned as she went to her bed and perused through the bag. "Thank you so much." Lily smiled silently. Hermione quickly refolded the bag and pulled on a red jumper. "Well, off to get whatever's left of dinner."

Lily bade her goodbye, and with that Hermione left the dormitory and went back to the common room. James was loudly complaining about a faulty card, and Remus wasn't having any of it. Sirius was hovering over them watching the game, but at Hermione's approach he detached from the crowd and walked alongside her towards the portrait hole. His hair was damp against his head, and she could smell the soap he'd used. It was oddly soothing.

Once they reached the portrait to the kitchens, Sirius reached over and tickled the pear. Suddenly, he paused.

"I've an idea," he said mildly. "Go to the room of requirement. I'll meet you there with the food."

Hermione's eyebrows rose high, disappearing behind her bangs. "Why?"

"Just do it, will you?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "I'm really hungry, Sirius. It's been a long day."

"I know, which is why you should go and rest in the room and I'll bring the food. Damn it, just listen to me for once, yeah?" Sirius looked at her earnestly, and Hermione sighed.

"Fine. Don't be long."

Sirius flashed a smile before disappearing behind the portrait. Hermione grimaced and tiredly began her ascent to the seventh floor again, wondering why Sirius had changed his mind so suddenly. Once inside the room of requirement, Hermione sank into a squishy emerald armchair and sat before a roaring fire, hoping Sirius would not be too long.

He arrived ten minutes later, hefting several boxes that were presumably filled with food. He set them on a table nearby and grunted.

"Damn, those were heavy," he groaned, rolling his shoulder back and forth. Hermione jumped out of the armchair and made for the row of boxes. Just from the smell her mouth was watering, catching the tantalizing scent of boiled potatoes and roasted chicken. Just as her hand reached to open a box, Sirius slapped it away.

"Uh-uh. Not yet. First, we practice."

"Practice what?" Hermione snapped. At his stare, Hermione crumpled. "Animagus training? Now? Gods we've been at it for months, and I've got as close to transforming as muggles are to suddenly sprout magic!"

"Exactly why you've got to keep at it," Sirius said sternly. "I told you before that we'd be practicing every day. We lost a few days from researching the Gaunts and preparing for our midterm examinations, and I'll be damned if we lose today too. If you want to win this thing in the long run, you have to keep at it."

"But—but can't I at least eat something first?" Hermione pleaded.

Sirius shook his head. "You'll have to work for it."

Hermione hated him very much right then, glaring up at him as if she could will him to disappear. She marched towards the center of the room, her hands in little fists, and closed her eyes.

To some extent she could see the logic in what he was saying. He was right in that they'd lost a few days of practice, and in order to succeed she had to train every single day. Though dangling food in front of her was just cruel.

"Not so tense," she heard Sirius say in front of her. She felt him tap at her hands. "Loosen those up, you're blocking all the energy in your body by being so stiff." Hermione loosened her fists and willed herself to relax, but she was still too angry to really comply. She heard him sigh.

"Look, I know you're mad. But if you eat right now you're going to get too sleepy and you won't be able to train at all. Give it an hour at least and then you can eat."

Hermione peeled one eye open, noting that Sirius was not eating either. Her resolve weakened, and she gave a slight nod. Shaking out her hands, she forced herself to relax and tried to find the magical energy flowing within her.

Darkness, darkness, darkness…one would think the color of closed eyelids would change, but no…she starting thinking about the roast chicken and her stomach whined pitifully…she could smell Sirius's soap still, he must be standing close by her…

A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Hey Sirius?"

"Hm?"

"You can feel magical signatures, right?"

"Correct."

"Have you ever tried to pinpoint them? Like, for example…see where someone's magical energy is circulating and concentrated in?"

"Er, no. That's incredibly hard. I don't even think it's possible."

Hermione opened her other eye.. "I don't think so. I know there's people who can sense spiritual energy, it's a muggle practice. I don't see why magical energy should be any different."

"And do you know how these muggles find that energy?" Sirius said doubtfully.

Hermione her lip. "No. But you've somewhat trained yourself how to sense magical energy, and can definitely find it in yourself, right?" Sirius nodded. "Well, just use that fine-tuned acuity on other people. It could become a very useful ability in the future."

"Like with the shack today," Sirius said quietly. He heaved a sigh. "Why not, then. It's not like I've got anything better to do while you practice, anyway."

With that, they both stood before each other with their eyes closed in concentration. Hermione ignored how her stomach was starting to growl, pushing her thoughts towards the hidden magic resting inside her. She could tell a lot of time was passing, for her legs were growing more and more tired from standing.

Sirius gasped.

Hermione opened her eyes, and Sirius was staring intently at Hermione. "What?"

Sirius shook his head wordlessly, slowly reaching his hand towards her arm. "Hermione…" he breathed, glancing about her. "I can see it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really? Already?" Sirius nodded fervently, astonished himself. "How long's it been? My god, an hour and a half! You can see magical energy within an hour and a half, Sirius! Do you realize just how brilliant you are?"

Sirius's mouth parted in disbelief, staring at her as if she were made of gold. "I can see," he whispered. "Oh, Hermione. It's beautiful."

"What does it look like?" she asked excitedly. "Where is it flowing?"

"Everywhere. It's everywhere, everything. It's radiating all around you, inside you, so gently…" he shook his head incredulously. "Before I could picture it, you know? I had a mental map of where my magic was; I could sense it inside me. I think that's what helped me find it so quickly, I was concentrating hard on it."

"You have a natural ability for this, Sirius, don't sell yourself short," Hermione grasped his shoulders, giving them an encouraging squeeze as she grinned up at him. Sirius glanced down at her hands and took them in her own, studying them in awe.

"Here," he held up her hand and traced her palm. "It swirls here, running up to your fingers, then up your arm…" his index finger trailed up to her shoulder, then sloped down her collar bone. "It radiates up and down, every direction…" his finger trailed down, reaching just above the valley of her breasts. Hermione's breath quickened, looking up at Sirius, but he was lost in thought. "I wish you could see this. It's a part of you, it's a second skin, a second skeleton. You are magic."

Hermione gazed up at him, feeling suddenly weightless, as Sirius looked at her reverently. She closed her eyes then and thought of the beauty Sirius had just described to her. She felt for something that wasn't separate from her, but woven inside her, as if it were surrounding her and filling her in every direction. She reached further and further, losing all trace of thought, forgetting where she was standing. And suddenly, as if a light had turned on in her mind, she felt a surge of power.

Startled, Hermione staggered back and flew open her eyes. She could feel something very faint thrumming inside her, reverberating persistently. She looked wildly to Sirius, who watched her silently. "I—" she croaked. "I…" She looked at Sirius helplessly. He reached forward slowly and gently closed her eyelids with his thumbs.

The effect was immediate. She could feel it; magic was coursing through her, surrounding her, as if she were a limitless source of energy. She whimpered, breathing shallowly, and overwhelmed with what she was experiencing. While she couldn't see what Sirius was, her mind was formulating images of what the sensation felt like, mapping where the energy was circulating inside her.

When she finally opened her eyes, they were moist. "I found it," she breathed. Sirius's lips twitched upwards.

"Let's eat, Hermione."

xxx

Lily and Hermione stood in the empty classroom, setting up for their next S.P.E.W. meeting two hours before it was to start. They placed soft cushions in place of desks, as their spells today would be the hands-on defensive kind. Alice strode in a minute later with several more cushions filling her arms.

"Do you think this'll be enough?" Alice put her hands on her hips as the three girls inspected their work.

"It should be," said Lily approvingly. "I've put an anti-sliding charm on them so there won't be any mishaps with the cushions."

Hermione walked over to the table near the front of the room, sorting through her notes on the history of House-Elves. She'd been taking extensive notes the past few weeks, even gathering up her old works from the purse she'd taken from her time. It was exhaustive but effective; the students no longer complained when Hermione brought up the topic of Elfish rights, and even managed engaging them in a heated debate that lasted an hour after the defense meeting had ended. Hermione smiled privately, pleased that she was doing something right.

She heard a knock on the door, and Hermione frowned. "It's too early for anyone to show up."

"Maybe it's a professor?" Lily suggested, looking suspiciously at the door. Hermione strode to the door and opened it, blinking in shock when she saw who stood before her.

"Am I…am I early?" Regulus asked, his voice low. Hermione couldn't find an answer, too shocked to reply. By then, Lily and Alice had come by the door as well, curiosity getting the better of them.

"Black?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "You want to join a club about House-Elves?"

"You've spoken to Scabior, then," Hermione finally managed to say evenly. Regulus nodded silently.

"Scabior? That Slytherin boy who winked at me a few weeks ago?" Lily made a face. "This club is serious, Black."

"I know," he replied quietly. "I came for the defensive training."

Alice inhaled sharply, and Lily's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

Regulus flushed. "Nobody you don't like knows about it, if that's what you're afraid of."

"How would you know what I'm afraid of?"

Regulus scowled, starting to get annoyed. "I thought this club invited all students who wish to defend themselves. I didn't realize it was House-exclusive."

"It's not," Hermione said firmly, and opened the door wider for him to pass through. "Come on in."

Regulus sauntered slowly inside, looking boldly at Alice and Lily as he passed them by. Alice held back a laugh.

Lily and Alice went back to organizing the room, leaving Hermione and Regulus alone. "So," Hermione started unsurely. "Sessions are usually two to three hours. We start with some spellwork, practice on each other, and end with a lesson on Elfish history."

Regulus nodded in understanding. "Good lesson, House-Elves. I have one back home that I'm really fond of."

"It'd be even fonder if that Elf had the choice to serve you," Hermione couldn't help but reply.

She expected some kind of annoyed response, but to Hermione's surprise, Regulus said, "You're right. Wizards can be terrible like that. It takes them…a long time to change. And admit they've been a bit of an ass. They avoid the problem most of the time, thinking it'd make the situation better, but all it does is make them feel alone. But what most don't realize is it's not because they don't agree with House Elf rights, it's the fear of change. The fear of admitting they were wrong…and the pride. As my grandfather used to say, sorry is for commoners."

"You're not your grandfather," Hermione noted.

"No," said Regulus. "I'm not."

Hermione smiled. And slowly, Regulus smiled too.

xxx

The final week before break went by in a flurry of broken inkpots and frantically written essays. The last of their midterms were completed, and with much relief the students boarded the Hogwarts Express for a glorious Christmas holiday. Somehow Lily, Alice, Hermione, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter—and sometimes Lily's other friends Amelia, Frank, Sturgis Podmore, and two other sixth year Hufflepuffs—fit into the cramped compartment. Sirius had decided that the only natural solution was to sit in Remus's lap with his arms looped around his shoulders.

"Shove off," Remus laughed as he tried to push Sirius off. Sirius sighed dramatically.

"Great friend you are," Sirius said sadly, dropping his arms by his sides. "There isn't any other room, Remus old friend, and you're the closest one near me."

"Come here, then, Sirius. Remus won't know what he's missing out on," James held out his arms, a spark of mischief in his eyes. Sirius grinned and left Remus instantly, settling against James.

"Much better," Sirius said smugly.

"Too true, dear."

"You mean deer."

"No, that's me."

Lily snorted. "You're all a riot, you know that?"

"I think the whole faculty and student body at Hogwarts knows that," Hermione said darkly.

"So what are you plans this break?" asked Lily.

James shrugged. "The usual. We'll have Christmas ball and dinner. I've been trying to persuade mum to buy a tellyvision for our house—"

"What!" Hermione squealed loudly, a huge smile on her face. "You didn't tell me! Oh my gosh! Did you mention the telephone? Please mention the television and the telephone, Merlin the marathons I want to show you—"

"If you're having marathons I hope you know I'll be there with you," said Lily with a mischievous smile. James brightened considerably at this, and announced very loudly that he would most definitely be home the entire break.

Once the train finally rolled to a stop, the friends went their separate ways. Sirius, James, and Hermione reached Godric's Hollow with excitement, as Dorea and Charlus had been particularly tight-lipped about any progress with acquiring a television or phone.

The moment they stepped inside, they knew. Hermione never realized how much she missed these simple muggle things, things that had been a staple of her childhood. She went straight for the phone and dialed the number Lily had given her before leaving the train, and she beamed when she heard Lily's voice on the other end.

Hermione didn't find the television plugged in, but it seemed to be picking up the service just fine; the same went for the telephone wire. Charlus came up to her and patted her on the hand. "We'll be sending a muggle check every month, don't worry my dear. Getting the entire house fitted for these things was simply too much to think about for Dorea and me."

"That's perfectly fine," said Hermione, unable to contain her grin. "You have no idea how happy this makes me. It really reminds me of my old home."

Charlus gave her a warm hug and set her off to the television, where she flipped through the channels until Sirius made her stop.

"I've seen their posters in muggle London! Famous musicians," Sirius sat close to the T.V. appreciatively, crossing his legs. James sat down next to him, both entranced by the television.

"There's programs too," Hermione explained. "James, you remember, right? When we were at Lily's house?"

"Like it was yesterday," said James, and reached for the knob. "Sirius, mate, look how it's done…"

xxx

Winter break was passing slower but all the more happier. For the first time Hermione wasn't too worried about anything, or preoccupied by what others must be thinking about her. She wasn't in an argument with Severus, or Sirius, or James; she wasn't fighting off a resisting horcrux that was slowly poisoning her mind; in fact, Hermione felt better than she had in years.

She suspected it had to do with how the term had gone by, ending with Hermione being able to sense her magical energy circulating inside her. Now that she had a handle on her own magic, she was finding casting spells much easier and simply living day by day that much more refreshing. It was as if she had awoken into a different person, one who appreciated every second that ticked by. She no longer felt suspended in time, plucked from her friends and family with a destiny she hadn't really wanted. She felt liberated, stronger, and eager to find the remaining two horcruxes and be rid of Voldemort once and for all. A tiny part of her feared what would happen when she would come face to face with him. She tried not to think about that part for the time being.

Hermione was sorting through her bookcase when she heard a knock. Padding quietly to the door, she wasn't surprised to see Sirius.

"Did you forget how to increase the volume again?" Hermione asked, already heading out the door.

"No, no, it's not about the tele. Would you come in my room for a minute?"

Hermione followed him curiously into his room that was directly across from hers, wondering why he was bringing her in. Now that she thought about it, she never actually saw the entirety of his room before, just vague glimpses here and there when she paid attention. Upon entering it, however, she noted how clean it was inside, with a few Quidditch posters taped to the walls and several rock bands scattered behind his bed. He reached for a magazine that was on his bed and showed it to her.

"Automotives?" Hermione read, puzzled. "What about them?"

"You're familiar with the muggle world more than any of us," Sirius scratched the back of his head. "I've been thinking for a while—a few years, to be exact—about buying one of these." He pointed to the end of a page.

"You want a motorcycle." She looked at the vintage motorcycle—well, vintage to her—with a faint smile.

Sirius saw it and smiled nervously. "What is it?"

Hermione looked at him cheerfully. "A motorcycle will be good for you."

"You think so?" Sirius laughed lightly, relieved. "I mentioned it in passing to James a few months ago and he was a bit skeptical, but I don't plan on just using it for the road. I'm thinking of enchanting it to fly."

Hermione nodded, already having known this. "It'll be a lot of work," she reminded. "You'll have to get it properly with a license and muggle money, then wait until you're seventeen to start enchanting it."

"That's fine," Sirius beamed, looking at the magazine excitedly. "So, do you know which of these would be best? I got this dictionary from the library a few days ago, it tells you all the terminology and parts of the motorcycle so I can get an understanding of it…"

Hermione flipped through the pages and stopped the moment her eyes fell on a familiar motorcycle. She stared at it for quite a while, thinking back to when she'd seen pictures of it in Grimmauld Place.

"This one," she pointed at the motorcycle before her. Sirius took the magazine and roved his eyes over the paper. "This one will be perfect."

"I was leaning towards that one too," Sirius sat down on the bed and drew a circle on the bike with a marker. "What makes you like this one the most?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just suits you, I guess."

"What about it suits me?" Sirius asked with a glint in his eye. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh you know, the standards. Long hair, leather jacket, mysterious persona—"

"I'm mysterious?" Sirius couldn't help but laugh.

"Not much, but you look it. It's a world's difference."

Hermione joined in his laughter, relishing the way the bridge of his nose crinkled just a bit and the way his grey eyes lit up when he smiled from the heart. It was so different from last year, they were so different from who they were last September. No longer burdened with as much misery and distrust, Sirius and Hermione had changed irreversibly.

"Your magic flares a bit when you're happy," Sirius observed quietly, his eyes soft. A smile tugged at Hermione's lips.

"What does it look like now?"

Sirius smiled faintly.

A loud crack sent Sirius and Hermione off the bed and with their wands pulled out, staring at two figures that suddenly appeared in Sirius's bedroom.

"Kreacher?" Hermione blanched.

"Regulus?" Sirius blurted, lowering his wand instantly. "What's going on? Why are you here?" Hermione noticed Kreacher was holding onto Regulus's leg unsteadily.

"It's You-Know-Who," said Regulus, crouching down to steady Kreacher gently. "He's hurt Kreacher with a potion, I don't know which. He's…he's done something terrible."

Notes:

Thank you for reading! xx

Chapter 21: The Cave

Chapter 21

The Cave

Regulus Black stared idly at the heavy book in his hands, wiping off a bead of sweat that was inching slowly down his temple. He lost all interest in Malum Nocte hours ago, but its disjointed prose and elusive themes had been distracting enough for Regulus to forget the burning of his skin and the weakness in his arms. To his right, a little figure was bent down by the fireplace in his room, tending to the flickering flames.

"Kreacher," he rasped, and immediately the little elf sprang up from the fireplace and was by his side.

"Yes, Master Regulus?"

He gestured weakly to the window on his left. "I'd like some fresh air, please."

The elf's eyes boggled. "Master must keep warm if he wants to get well quickly," he squeakily reminded, emphasizing it by tucking Regulus in more firmly.

"I know," said Regulus with a sigh, "but it is hot. And I am already much better than before, thanks to the tonics you gave me."

Kreacher looked torn, but he gently patted Regulus's hand. "Just a crack, if it makes Master happy." And quick as a mouse, he cracked open the window, letting a steady stream of cold air into the room. Regulus sighed in relief.

"Thank you."

Just then the door to his room opened, revealing his mother in her usual long, billowing, black dress. She frowned down at Kreacher. "How is my son, now, Kreacher?"

Kreacher bobbed his head in a deep bow, replying fervently, "He is doing well under Kreacher's care, Mistress! He is most improved already!"

"Good," she nodded curtly in approval. She turned to Regulus. "You should be fully restored by tomorrow, I expect. Our stores of healing potions are the best in the country, and this is just a cold."

That was as close to a 'feel better' as Regulus could hope for from his mother, and he smiled weakly. She sniffed. "Though how you became sick is beyond me."

"It's just a cold," he shrugged slightly. Walburga observed him with narrowed eyes, before moving close by his bedside. Her hand reached out to gently brush the damp bangs from his eyes. A soft smile lifted Regulus's lips.

Walburga dropped her hand and walked away. "Dinner will be brought to your room." The door closed quietly behind her.

"Mistress is pleased today," Kreacher nodded as he returned to tending the fire.

Regulus shifted so he could sit better, and reopened his book. "That's not always a good thing, Kreacher." His eyes roved tiredly over the verses, squinting at fine print. "Gods, it's as if an insect had written these poems. Do you know which edition this is?"

Kreacher hobbled forward and took the book from Regulus's hands, pressing the cover against his large ear as if listening.

"This is an original, Master Regulus," Kreacher handed the book back, and Regulus's eyebrows rose. "As are most of the books in the library of the Noble House of Black."

"Not surprising," Regulus murmured. "The tragedy of nobility is limited access to legible books. My mum would consider it an insult to the family if she saw a sixth or seventh edition in this house."

Kreacher humored Regulus with a smile, and went back to his work. Regulus flipped back to where he had left off, squinting.

And mark his hours I did

With prowess alone we stood apart

Wrought with fear he hid

To keep the embers from his heart

 

But I was torn asunder

"Lo!" I wept in the night

His body fell dead under

The green embers of light.

"Medieval sentiment," Regulus mumbled, turning over and quickly falling asleep.

xxx

The smell of hot broth awoke him.

Regulus rubbed his eyes and found a tray of food on his bedside table. He was feeling much less clammy and hot, and found he had a raging appetite that was long-overdue. He still felt weak as he shifted into a sitting position, his arms trembling as he tried to pick up the tray. It clattered loudly to the floor.

"Damn it," Regulus cursed. Kreacher popped into the room, having sensed the disturbance and promptly began cleaning up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drop it—"

"No apologies Master, it is Kreacher's fault for not waiting for you to awaken." With a snap of his fingers the tray refilled with food and he set it carefully on Regulus's lap.

"It's not," Regulus said firmly. "But thank you."

Kreacher beamed, swelling with adoration. "Is there anything else Kreacher can do for you? Would you like more pillows? Shall I read your book to you while you eat?"

Regulus gulped down some soup and was pleased that he could finally taste it properly, licking his lips at the savory broth. "Whatever you like, Kreacher."

Kreacher was frozen in indecision again, still not quite used to the liberties Regulus allowed him so frequently. Though he had served the family since before Regulus's birth, he was quite taken by Regulus the most out of all of them. Regulus also felt a kind of affection for the House-Elf, as Kreacher had been his sole companion for the better part of his childhood—apart from Sirius, of course, before he had started at Hogwarts.

"I will read to Master Regulus," Kreacher decided, and picked up the heavy book before settling on the foot of the bed. Quietly, he began to read.

"Lo!" I wept in the night

His body fell dead under

"Next verse," Regulus mumbled as he took a bite of bread. "I read that already."

Kreacher nodded quickly, and turned the page.

Two I had become

One less than the other

A monstrous thing I'd done

To sacrifice another

 

Then came Death, who showed me how to conceal

"In a hilt," said Death wisely, "It is last to break."

I cried, "But what if someone were to steal?"

And Death laughed with glee, "That was your mistake."

 

Regulus frowned. "I don't understand. What is he trying to hide? The man he killed?"

Kreacher shook his head furiously. "No. He tries to hide himself."

"Himself?" Regulus repeated. "How can he hide himself in a sword hilt?"

Kreacher shook his head again, looking at him emphatically. "Master misunderstands. It is the Dark Magic he must hide. It is himself he must hide."

"There was a second spell?" Regulus's brows furrowed curiously. "Have you heard of this before, then?"

Kreacher suddenly went stiff, his mouth pressed firmly in a line. Regulus recognized that look.

"It's alright to tell me," Regulus said kindly. "I shan't mention it to anyone in this house."

Kreacher's ears drooped, and he clutched the book tightly to his chest.

"It is Old Magic," Kreacher whispered, his big eyes bulging in fright. "The most evil in the world."

Regulus leaned closer, waiting with bated breath. But without warning, Kreacher disappeared.

Regulus blinked. He barely had time to process what had happened before Kreacher returned with a pop, looking wild.

"Mistress says to get ready!" He squeaked, grabbing the tray and spelling it away. He threw off Regulus's covers and prodded him out of bed. Luckily the soup and bread had given Regulus enough energy not to sway on his feet.

"What? Why?" Regulus said crossly.

"Guests are to arrive, guests Mistress fears," Kreacher moaned, and pushing Regulus towards the bathroom and shoving a fresh set of clothes into his hands. "They will be here within the hour! Quickly, Master!"

Alarmed, Regulus took the clothes and showered as fast as his body would allow. He knew better than to resist, for these particular meetings were often sudden and important. He dressed quickly and took the Pepper-Up potion Kreacher held out for him, drinking it in one gulp.

Regulus descended to the parlor where his mother and father sat waiting. Walburga was anxiously wringing her hands, and jumped up from her armchair the moment she saw him arrive.

"Thank goodness," she said, relieved, and reached forward to smooth down his hair. "We only just got the owl. We are to have a special audience this evening."

"From whom?" asked Regulus. Walburga only stared back quietly. Regulus's heart stuttered a beat.

Numbly, he walked over to the sofa and waited. Kreacher was standing far behind them, waiting for his orders, and Regulus almost wished he was not the elf to attend to them; it would have been much safer for Kreacher to go the kitchens. It felt like hours had passed until the first knock came. Regulus swallowed as he watched Kreacher dart forward to open the door.

He returned to the parlor, bowing deeply until his nose touched the floor. "The Dark Lord has arrived."

He was thinner and more frightening than Regulus last remembered, his gaze cold and penetrative. Regulus exhaled evenly and chanted in his mind the things Snape had taught him. Close your mind…close your mind…

"It is an honor to have you in our home again," Walburga curtsied, and Orion stood promptly and bowed. Regulus inclined his head.

"I have been impressed by your loyalty these few months," Voldemort replied, smiling. "I admit, I had little hope left for this family, though noble and pure it is. But the servitude of your son, however, has been….most excellent."

Regulus bowed again. "It was only right, my lord. Your path is the true path."

The words felt like venom in his mouth, but the came out smoothly, softly, like silk. Voldemort's smile deepened.

"So young," Voldemort looked at Regulus, his long nails gripping his shoulder. "But so wise." He released his grip and stepped away. "In truth, I have come for assistance. I require a House-Elf…for a time being."

Regulus's eyes widened a fraction. He glanced briefly at his mother, whose mouth was pressed in a line. She averted her gaze purposefully behind them. Regulus turned back to Voldemort.

"Our most loyal House-Elf will service you," Regulus said boldly. He turned his head to the back of the parlor. "Kreacher, come."

The House-Elf startled, but rushed forward instantly. "It would be an honor for Kreacher, and for our family, to serve the dark lord."

Voldemort smiled thinly, coming off as more of a sneer. "Excellent." He whirled around and sent his black cloak fluttering behind him, striding out of the parlor. Regulus crouched down and leaned forward, quietly muttering in Kreacher's ear, "The second your mission with Lord Voldemort is complete, return straight to me."

Kreacher nodded feverishly, and quickly left the parlor. Regulus knew the moment they had gone, for a quiet stillness like no other filled the manor. He started to feel ill again, his head dizzy and unfocused. It seemed would have to ask for another elf to deliver his tonics.

Regulus glanced at his mother, and walked away without a word.

xxx

A week passed and still Kreacher did not return. Regulus began to grow restless, distractedly eating his meals and frequently glancing out his window. He was afraid Voldemort would return again, this time asking for Regulus himself.

This is the price of loyalty, Regulus thought bitterly. His attempt to prove he could be trusted meant more would be asked of him. Impressing the dark lord was no little feat, and in doing so Regulus had irreversibly tied himself even closer to him. The very thought made Regulus's stomach turn in disgust. This is the price of curiosity.

Regulus shook the thought away. Curiosity was not the villain here. He glared at his hands, squeezing them into fists. The blood in his veins, the name embedded into his identity, were to blame for this particular misery. And love, the back of his mind reminded. Love for your mother.

Regulus made an irritated noise and collapsed back onto his bed. He picked up Malum Nocte again and attempted to read through it, but was still pondering on the verses that Kreacher had hinted at. The entire book was a poetic retelling, thought to be the true accounts of the earliest wizards of existence. Regulus had taken it as fictional poppycock with elements of dark magic being practiced for the first time, but there was something more to it that he was still unable to quite grasp. There was something hidden in the prose, something so obvious but was evading Regulus. And as it was in his nature to obsess until he found a solution, Regulus returned to the passage that puzzled him the most.

Before my ashes the woman sighs

With victory and hilt in hand

Avenged her betrothed with my demise

She returned to her homeland

 

Yet in her hand I grew stronger built

The half-life no longer small

Until I sprang from the cursed hilt

And struck her down to fall.

 

Regulus flipped through the next pages, unimpressed by the other wizards' stories. The rest was mere retellings of landmarks and cursed runes, all things Regulus had read before over and over. Dark magic was abundant in the books he'd read, and reading them in poems did not change much. The only part that struck him were these verses, written near the end of the book, filed under the chapter Exsecratus.

"'Two I had become, one less than the other'," Regulus recited, his fingers pressing into the lines. "A monstrous thing…and then hiding himself in the hilt…"

Had he somehow torn himself into two pieces? Regulus didn't understand how that would be feasible, but he humored the idea nonetheless. If he tore himself in two, it meant he hid one part of himself in his sword hilt…then he'd been burned to death, but part of him was still alive.…Ah, Regulus thought with a smile. It was starting to make sense.

He almost didn't hear the faint pop that entered the room, so distracted he had become by his discovery. Regulus glanced up from his book and saw Kreacher, sprawled and unconscious on the floor.

"Kreacher!"

Kneeling down, Regulus turned the House-Elf onto his back and tried shaking him awake. "Kreacher! Wake up!" He moved him to his side and pounded on his back, and Kreacher took a sharp, gasping breath.

"Water—Master—water—I beg—"

"Yes, yes," Regulus hastily grabbed the goblet from his table and pointed his wand inside it. "Aguamenti!"

It filled instantly, and he tipped the cup to Kreacher's mouth. He refilled it four more times before Kreacher finally calmed down, but a wild, glazed look still remained in his eyes.

"What happened, Kreacher? What did he make you do?"

Kreacher shook uncontrollably, feebly clutching Regulus's arm. "He made Kreacher drink," Kreacher rasped, his eyes downcast in fear. "He took Kreacher to a cave and forced us to drink a terrible potion, hurting Kreacher. Then he laughed and left Kreacher to die."

He coughed violently, and Regulus summoned another House-Elf to bring him some food and assess if Kreacher needed any healing potions.

"No potions!" Kreacher panicked, jumping to his feet. "No more potions!"

"Alright, alright," Regulus said, alarmed, as Kreacher swayed heavily on his feet. "Leela, just bring the food, then."

"Yes, Master Regulus." With a bow, she disappeared.

Regulus returned his attention to Kreacher. "If you have the strength, I'd like to hear from the beginning what the dark lord did."

Regulus could tell the mysterious potion was affecting Kreacher still; he would pause in his story to clutch his head, muttering under his breath, and Regulus sometimes caught snatches of words of "keep safe" and "not my fault"; more often, however, he heard Kreacher utter his name. Leela returned with a small plate of food and Regulus encouraged Kreacher to eat it, and when he refused Regulus decided to feed him himself. Perhaps it was this that shocked Kreacher into awareness, for almost immediately Kreacher's eyes glistening with tears and shoveled down every bite by himself.

When Kreacher finally finished his story, Regulus was frowning deeply.

"A locket?" Regulus repeated. "He did all this…to hide a locket? But that's…"

"More than a locket," Kreacher muttered and closed his eyes. "So many curses guarding it…"

Regulus looked away tiredly as Kreacher nodded off. He was not cured, but he was mostly out of danger. Regulus had no idea where to begin with the things Kreacher told him. A secret cave, a basin of poison, all to guard an article of jewelry…Regulus rose to his feet and settled back onto his bed, pondering on what Voldemort had accomplished. Clearly the locket was important to him, if he had to go through such great lengths to conceal it…not only concealment, but punishment with certain death if anybody attempted to steal the locket…

In the corner of his eye he caught sight of the book lying forgotten on his bed.

His eyes widened.

Two I had become, one less than the other...

xxx

Hermione lowered her wand and knelt by Regulus, looking worriedly between him and Kreacher.

"What do you mean Voldemort's done something terrible?" said Hermione. "What's happened to him?"

"Kreacher is well," the old House-Elf croaked to Regulus, and stood tall. "Master is too kind."

"It's a very long story, but it is urgent," said Regulus quickly. "I know you can do medi-spells proficiently, can you examine him?"

"I—of course," Hermione was taken aback, but raised her wand nonetheless. Kreacher eyed her suspiciously as she wordlessly flicked her wand every few seconds. "Internally I see nothing immediately wrong," said Hermione worriedly, "but he's shaken very badly. He needs a rest. I'm sorry, I can't help with more than that. Wouldn't it be better if you had a healer see him?"

Regulus shook his head. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this."

"And what exactly is 'this'?" Sirius's voice was heard behind them, spoken very quietly. It was only then that Hermione realized that Sirius had been very still the entire time, and had not spoken a word until now. His grey eyes were trained on Kreacher, of whom was staring back up at him contemptuously. He looked as if he were holding his breath for several minutes, his face pinched and turning pink.

"Good to see you again, Kreacher," he said loftily.

Kreacher exploded.

"Filthy blood traitor!"

"Hey," Regulus said sharply, and Kreacher stiffened. "None of that. Sirius can be trusted. And he's not a blood traitor, nor should you put stock in those words."

Kreacher looked at Regulus in shock. "Forgive me, Master Regulus. I have displeased you." His huge eyes darted around Sirius's room, until he spotted the candlestick on his desk. Hermione, sensing what Kreacher was about to do, snatched up the candlestick and held it away from him.

"It's okay," Regulus assured with practiced ease, "just don't do it again." He glanced up at Sirius angrily. "Don't provoke him like that."

Sirius looked away agitatedly, as if being in the very room was painful. Hermione suspected it had more to do with Kreacher than it did with Regulus.

"Come, sit on the bed, the both of you. And tell us exactly why you had to Apparate here right now and endanger yourself," Hermione crossed her arms.

Sirius turned back to Regulus interestedly.

Regulus swallowed. "The dark lord used Kreacher. He came to our home a few nights ago, asking to borrow him. I believe—that is, from what Kreacher has described to me—he has made a…a h-horcrux."

He waited. Sirius and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione replied kindly, "Yes, we knew that. What else?"

Regulus gaped. "What else? Blimey—what else could be more important?"

"Maybe if you hadn't been a git, we might've told you sooner," said Sirius idly. Regulus looked at him sourly.

"That has nothing to do with it," Hermione said sternly, glaring at Sirius. "Regulus, I knew from the beginning this was Voldemort's plan. Since…well, the day I walked through Hogwarts' doors, I knew I had to stop him."

"You knew?" he said incredulously. "Since last year?"

"Didn't you wonder," said Sirius carefully, "what plan she had to defeat Voldemort and have you and Snape as spies?"

"I—I did…but…" Regulus trailed. "How long have you known?"

"Since the last Hogsmeade trip."

Heat crept up Regulus's neck as he looked away. Hermione looked between the two brothers anxiously.

"The important thing is that you came to us right away," Hermione said firmly. "You did the right thing."

"So this was always part of the plan?" Regulus looked between Sirius and Hermione. "You knew Voldemort was splitting his soul into pieces?"

"Yes. I…did my own investigating, and ever since my parents were killed I've been hunting them down and destroying them. It's the only way Voldemort can truly be killed. The more we destroy, the more vulnerable he becomes."

"And…and how many of them have you found?"

"Three so far," said Hermione with a half-smile. "It was very difficult, but it's not impossible."

Regulus digested this information silently.

"You said you knew Voldemort's made another horcrux," said Sirius. "How did you figure it out? What happened?"

"I'm not sure I would've figured it out that easily if it weren't for our library," Regulus admitted.

Sirius pulled a face. "You still read that dragon dung?"

"I was bored," Regulus rolled his eyes. "And ill. There was nothing else to do, and this particular book didn't give me blisters when I tried opening it."

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Still got the scar, then? On your left b—"

"Yes, yes," Regulus said quickly, going red. "It was Malum Nocte, behind the glass bookcase. There are forty poems detailing the adventures ancient wizards and witches who first began using the dark arts, and the consequences behind them."

"Do you have it with you?" asked Hermione, eagerness lighting her eyes.

He reached under his robe and pulled out an old, black book, handing it to Hermione. "Good Merlin," Hermione breathed, flipping carefully through the pages. "This is…ancient! Far older than any of the books in the Restricted Section back at Hogwarts."

"It's an original," said Regulus with a shrug.

"Most of the books in Black Manor are," said Sirius, as if he'd said it several times before.

Hermione closed the book, setting it aside for later. "Go on," she said gently.

"About a week ago, Voldemort came to our house." Regulus paused, gathering his breath. "He—he was pleased with me. With my...actions…and…he felt I was trustworthy. He asked for a House-Elf. He never explained why. But I know now he went on a mission to test the security of his horcrux….I offered Kreacher, and told him to return to me when his task with Voldemort was complete.

"Voldemort took Kreacher to a remote location inside a cave, placed with several enchantments and curses. Inside there was a lake, and at the center was a basin filled with a potion. Voldemort forced Kreacher to drink a terrible potion until the basin was empty, leaving a necklace at the bottom. He—he laughed, refilled the basin, and left Kreacher there. Kreacher returned, of course, half-dead into my bedroom—Voldemort seemed to have forgotten the binding magic of the House-Elves, markedly different and more powerful than any wizard's. Voldemort could not Apparate out of that cave, but Kreacher could. And now here we are."

Hermione was frowning deeply, her eyebrows pinched together in concentration. An enchanted cave, a basin filled with a toxic potion…he was definitely guarding a horcrux. Voldemort would never take that many precautions otherwise, especially to protect an otherwise harmless object.

"The necklace," Hermione said urgently. "Was it a locket?"

"Yeah, it was."

Hermione jumped from the bed and exhaled shakily, running her hands through her hair. The fourth horcrux. So quickly. Hermione paced in circles around Sirius's room, zoning out the others and trying to formulate a plan. They'd need to know where the cave was, and Apparate nearby…judging from what Regulus just revealed, there was an anti-Apparation charm around the cave, so she would need to make sure she knew where she was Apparating…the last thing they needed was to land in the middle of the ocean. Would she go alone? Would she—

She felt a pair of hands halt her pacing and close around her shoulders. Sirius was looking down at her worriedly.

"Hermione. It's okay."

"This is the fourth horcrux, Sirius," said Hermione anxiously. "We have to destroy it before term resumes. We have to—"

"We will," Sirius said firmly. "Which is why we have to calm down and think this through."

Regulus watched them apprehensively. Hermione nodded stiffly. "Yes. I know." Sirius dropped his hands from her shoulders and Hermione returned to sit on the bed. "This is very serious," Hermione said to Regulus. "And we have to be very careful how we approach this."

"You're going to destroy it, aren't you?" Hermione nodded. Regulus stared at her in dismay. "I don't think you understood what I just told you, Hermione. Kreacher nearly died, Voldemort planted this elaborate trap himself—do you honestly believe you can steal that horcrux and destroy it?"

Hermione gazed at Regulus steadily. "I have to believe that I will succeed."

Regulus scoffed, looking away. "It's foolishness."

"Do you see anybody else lining up to destroy Voldemort's soul?" Hermione asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "This is my purpose. This is what I have to do. I don't expect you to understand. But if I die trying to destroy these horcruxes, I'll die relieved, knowing that I did everything in my power to succeed."

Regulus was shaking his head furiously, rejecting her words. "No, no—this is Voldemort! Do you understand? Look what he's already done, what he's made me do! If he finds out what you're doing—if he gets even the smallest hint—"

"It's an inevitability," said Sirius. "There's already a war stirring, Reggie. You know it's happening. We have to defeat him before he becomes truly invincible."

Regulus stilled, gazing at Sirius with an unreadable expression. Hermione took that chance to quietly pick up the book and sift through the pages, bringing it closer to her eyes as the print was incredibly difficult to read. She only caught a few words here and there, but they were enough to cause a shudder down her spine and promptly close the book.

Kreacher was twitching every few minutes, his knees drawn up to his chest, making himself as small as possible. Hermione bit her lip and slipped off Sirius's bed again, this time leaving the room. Regulus and Sirius stared after her in shock.

She returned two minutes later with two vials in one hand and a two little paper cups in the other. Stopping before Regulus, Hermione held them out. "There's an extra strength calming draught and a sleeping draft in these. Kreacher needs rest and time to recuperate. I would suggest he keep away from a stressful environment as well, but I have a feeling his absence will be noticed."

"It will be," said Regulus, taking the vials and the cups.

"How long can you stay?"

"Not very long. We should actually go back now."

"Then go," said Hermione firmly. "Administer the potions I gave you and follow the instructions on the label. We have to meet again, though. Can you come back tomorrow?"

Regulus nodded slowly. "Yes, I should be."

"Good. I need to know exactly where this cave is, and plan how we're going to execute this without losing our heads. Then we'll decide when to go."

Regulus nodded quickly, stuffing the items into his robes. He looked back at Hermione uncertainly. "You won't do anything before that…right?"

She could see the express concern reflecting in his gaze, still shaken by Kreacher's trauma and the discovery of Hermione's horcrux hunt, and it made Hermione's eyes soften. "No, we won't. Thank you for telling us, Regulus. Thank you for trusting us."

Regulus shifted uncomfortably, nodding once. He glanced at Sirius uneasily.

"Sirius…I'm…"

"Yeah, yeah." He reached over and roughly mussed up Regulus's hair. Regulus scowled and jerked away from Sirius's hand.

"Prat," he muttered, and Sirius smiled. Regulus stood and Kreacher followed him, taking Regulus's hand. "Tomorrow at ten o'clock p.m. in this room." Without warning, the two disappeared.

Sirius whistled low, glancing at Hermione. "Bloody hell."

"Bloody hell," Hermione echoed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Sirius eyebrows rose. She hunched over, picking at Sirius's blanket.

"What is it?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Hermione?"

She looked up at Sirius. "I'm worried."

"I am too," said Sirius reasonably. "This is some scary shit. But we'll just have to get through it like everything else, right?"

Hermione bit her lip, her fingers twisting the blanket fretfully. "No, it's more than that. It's what Dumbledore told me before I travelled to this time."

"What did he say?"

She swallowed. "He—he tried to tell me everything important before I left. He told me who died, what happened to everyone. He told me what the horcruxes were and a very vague hint of where they would be. I knew one would be in the castle. I knew Lucius Malfoy would be in possession of one at some point. I knew one would be personal to his family. I even know the cup will be with someone who Voldemort trusts. But Dumbledore didn't tell me anything about the locket."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

Hermione shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I have no idea. He said that one would be difficult. I tried asking more about it, but he dismissed it entirely. I think…I think it might have been personal to him, Sirius. I think he might have died because of it."

"How could that be? You said Dumbledore died because he broke the laws of nature by travelling back to the present, where two Dumbledores were existing at the same time."

"And that's true. But—he wouldn't tell me, Sirius. He wouldn't explain where he'd gone with Harry that night, he was so distant…something was going to happen that night. I just know it. Why else would he desperately try to hand off that Time-Turner to me? Why else am I here?"

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" Sirius noted quietly.

"It was the only thing that didn't make sense. I know it is in Dumbledore's nature to be elusive, to not let on everything, but this was different."

"You think this horcrux in the cave will be more dangerous than the rest?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I think we have to be very careful."

Hermione departed from Sirius's room and spent the remainder of the day restless and fidgeting. She went through her entire purse filled with items from her time, organizing her books three times. She flipped through some of the darker books she'd been slowly collecting, trying to find anything that could aid her in their newest quest, but it was for naught. There was nothing Hermione could do to calm herself, and no amount of reading material was going to help her this time. The night was spent in fitful slumber, staring out the window wondering if she'd spot an owl from Regulus or her friends.

Sirius had helped a lot in calming her down her anxiety, but the feeling slowly crept back and was now churning inside her like black hole of fear, and Hermione curled into herself on the bed. A bright image of Lily's vibrant smile and red hair came to mind, she longed to talk to her almost desperately. If there was a time Hermione wished Lily knew about her secret, it was definitely right now. Lily was the one constant in Hermione's life; her unwavering kindness and loyalty, as well as her uncanny ability to make Hermione feel safe and loved as she dared anyone to hurt Hermione, was something Hermione cherished deeply. She wondered what gods she had unknowingly pleased to grant her a friend like that.

But Lily was not here, and Lily did not know, and Hermione was stuck in an endless loop of fear and longing. Longing to be rid of Voldemort, the parasite of her existence. Longing to wake up without this burden looming above her. Longing to no longer be afraid.

Exhausted from these racing thoughts, Hermione turned over and finally fell asleep.

xxx

At nine-thirty p.m. the next evening, Sirius and Hermione retired to their rooms. James had been insistent for them to join him to Peter's, but Hermione feigned fatigue and Sirius promised to visit later on. Once James disappeared from the fireplace, the lingering ashes of Floo powder swirling by the mantle, Hermione grabbed a notebook and pen and quietly padded over to Sirius's room.

"He should be here in a few minutes," said Sirius, letting Hermione in. He closed the door softly and Hermione spelled a Silencing charm about the room. Sirius smirked.

"What?"

"Just hope the Potters don't take all this the wrong way."

Hermione's look of confusion turned into a grimace. "You're horrible."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Sirius raised his hands in defense, unable to suppress a grin. "Fact is, you may be James's sister but you're certainly not mine. If they catch us in here with a Silencing charm up…"

"Well it's safer if they believe we're snogging than going out hunting pieces of Voldemort's soul," said Hermione tartly, and Sirius snorted loudly.

"Snogging! Now that's something we haven't done in a while," said Sirius blandly.

Hermione flushed, glaring sharply. "With good reason."

Sirius nodded easily. "Yeah. Last year was…pretty shit."

Hermione looked away, suddenly aware of how much had changed since their last—and only—kiss. They had been two completely different people then, and Hermione had still been so naïve…but as she gazed at Sirius again, watching him clean up his room last-minute, she couldn't help but think that perhaps things were changing again…

A loud crack jolted Hermione from her thoughts, and she saw Regulus and Kreacher once more. Kreacher was looking much better than the last time she saw him. Regulus had done well in his care.

"Right on time," said Sirius, smiling.

Regulus nodded. "We must be quick, though. Mother was persistent about having tea with her and I fear she will try to persuade me again."

"Right," said Hermione, settling down on the bed and opening her notebook. "Let's get straight to it, then. I've already compiled a list of things we need to know about the area itself, and then some other details. Is Kreacher willing to help us?"

Regulus turned to Kreacher, and the little elf stared up at them with giant, orb-like eyes. "Always, for Master Regulus."

Quietly, Sirius spoke to Hermione, "You know he has to anyway, Hermione."

"He should at least feel he has a choice," she whispered back, glaring. Sirius lowered his gaze.

"What do you have first?" Regulus asked, peering at her notebook.

She held it out for him to read. "First, I need a full, detailed description of where this cave was. I need to know what exactly Voldemort had done to get inside, what the interior of the cave looked like, and how vast it was."

Slowly, Kreacher spoke. He detailed what he could remember—much of his memory of the place was fading, perhaps a side effect of the potion—and after a half hour Hermione figured out where the cave could be in England. The cave entrance had been open and gaping when Voldemort passed them through, but Kreacher could recall him muttering a long spell at the opening just before retreating inside.

When it came to what the inside of the cave looked like, Kreacher could not remember.

"Large," Kreacher croaked fearfully. "A lake. That is all Kreacher knows."

"There was a basin, though, that's what you told us before," Hermione said patiently. "Do you remember the basin?"

"Basin…"

Hermione was starting to panic. "You really don't remember…"

"Do you remember drinking the potion?" Sirius asked.

Suddenly Kreacher went pale and a spasm tore through his little frame. He moaned and covered his bat-like ears with his hands. "NO!"

Regulus reached over to calm him, murmuring quietly. Kreacher's hands slid down from his ears, his eyes wet with tears.

"A basin in the center. Drink and drink, and he laughed and laughed."

Sirius and Hermione exchanged worried glances. Kreacher would not be utter another word, too terrified and confused.

"He's only remembering bits and pieces of the cave," said Regulus quietly, concern in his voice. "It is unlike him to forget things. This must be because of the potion he was forced to drink."

"Its effects are much deeper and lasting than I imagined," Hermione shook her head sorrowfully. "This is going to be very hard…"

"We know enough to get by, though," Sirius concluded. "You figured out where it's located, right?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain it's a beach by the shore, somewhere in West England. He gave me enough description to be able to Apparate in and out of there easily."

"Then it's just the cave itself," Sirius said, his jaw tense. He looked to Regulus. "You should head on back, Reggie. We'll let you know if we make it back safely."

Regulus looked at them incredulously. "Oh no you don't! You think you two will go at this by yourselves? I'm coming with you!"

"You are most certainly not," said Sirius fiercely, his eyes flashing with anger. "It's out of the question."

"Why not? You wouldn't have known about this if I hadn't told you! You think I can let the two of you go about this alone? Not a chance," Regulus growled.

"You're bloody fifteen, Regulus! You can't go on a dangerous mission like this!" Sirius roared.

"Hermione was fifteen when she destroyed her first horcrux, wasn't she?" Regulus accused, glaring at Hermione. Her eyes widened, and Sirius waved him off irritatedly.

"That's different," he retorted.

"It's not," said Regulus heatedly. "You're all talk, then, aren't you? All this about the war starting, about dying to keep the people you love safe—but only if it's what you're comfortable with, right? Starting that defense club, teaching us, is that a farce too?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," said Sirius, his eyes pained. "It was hard enough watching you go down your path for four years. I won't stand by again and let you come close to death."

"I've been close to death since the moment the Dark Mark was burned into my skin," Regulus said quietly.

"And what happens when Voldemort finds out you helped destroy his horcrux? Do you think you'll be breathing after that?"

"At least I'll die bravely."

Sirius looked away moodily.

"You haven't said a word, Hermione," said Regulus.

Hermione's eyes flickered up to Regulus, and Sirius turned to look at her, as if only just remembering she was there.

"You think he should come with us?" said Sirius, perplexed.

"I…don't know." Hermione looked at Sirius. "He has a point, Sirius. Where is the line drawn now? What age is appropriate to fight against evil? Harry…he was fighting since the age of eleven. We can't protect everyone from the uglier side of reality, no matter how much we want to."

Regulus was staring at Hermione as if she were made of pure starlight, half-hopeful and half-surprised. Sirius had gone stiff, and Hermione was unable to meet his gaze.

Finally, Sirius tore his eyes away and pinned Regulus with a dark glare. "I don't like this. I want you to know that." Regulus nodded quickly. "But you did tell us about the horcrux. You're already a bloody Death Eater. You've earned this, I guess."

Regulus nodded curtly. "I am going to help you," he said honestly, looking between Hermione and Sirius confidently. "If it means I am one step closer to being rid of Lord Voldemort once and for all, that my family will be safe—I will do anything."

xxx

She knew Sirius was not happy with her after Regulus left. He'd been terse with her for the week that followed, only coming out from his meal during meals or to go to James's room. Hermione had expected this, but she would not change what she had said. Regulus had every right to come, as much as she hated the thought. He had, after all, risked his life by joining the Death Eaters and willingly pass information with Snape. And above that, he had gained Voldemort's trust like no other, ultimately leading Hermione to their next horcrux. He had proven himself over and over to be capable of advanced magic and making difficult decisions, no matter how much he despised them.

She knew Sirius knew this as well, but it was harder for him to come to terms with this truth. Hermione knew he was not genuinely angry with her, but instead angry that Regulus was correct, and there was nothing Sirius could do to protect him.

They had decided to wait a week before journeying to the cave. In any case, they did not want to destroy the horcrux so quickly after Voldemort hid it, lest he come back to check up on it. Hermione didn't think that would be the case, though; Voldemort was notoriously full of himself, and would never dream that anybody would actually succeed in an elaborate trap built by himself.

On the morning they were meant to go, Sirius knocked on her door.

"Hey," he said, a little sheepish.

"Hi. Come on in," she opened the door wider.

He came in and stood stiffly as Hermione closed the door. She cracked a smile. "You can relax. Nothing in here will kill you without my consent."

"Ha ha," Sirius said dryly, his body relaxing. "So are you, er…ready?"

"I think so. I have several vials of potions with me, a medical kit, some tools…I don't think we'll need them, but it's good to have. Are you ready?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. Not much to prepare. Got my wand, got my clothes on." He paused. "We're telling James."

Her heart pounded. "Tell him what?"

"That we're going to do something dangerous. Not about the horcruxes, of course, but…you know."

The panic that had suddenly burst through her instantly simmered. Hermione exhaled slowly. "Yes. Of course. He should know what we're doing, just in case."

Sirius nodded. "Have you written to Snape, by the way?"

"I've tried contacting him but I haven't had a reply back. I hope he's alright," Hermione said worriedly.

"Shocking as it may sound, but I hope he's alright too. I would've preferred him accompanying us today than my brother."

"I know," Hermione said softly.

Sirius looked at her, a strange look in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly as he came and he cleared his throat. "We're meeting at the bakery, right?"

"Noon sharp." Hermione took a deep breath, her insides fluttering anxiously. "This is it."

He must have noticed her discomfort, for he stepped closer and patted her arm gently. "Right now, you're the only person in the entire world to have destroyed three horcruxes of the same person. The fourth one doesn't stand a chance."

Hermione smiled tremulously, and Sirius left her room. Something was twisting and coiling in the pit of her stomach, and no amount of words of reassurance would bring her peace. Something…something felt strange, and it did not make sense to her, and it left her feeling shaky and cold.

As the hours drew closer to noon, Hermione triple checked her things to make sure she was ready, and started to pace about in her room. At eleven o'clock, Hermione silently went down the stairs and into the parlor, relieved to find it completely empty.

Her hand shook as she picked up the receiver and dialed Lily's number. She waited, her heart beating faster when she heard the line connect.

"Evans residence."

"Lily?" Hermione said shakily.

"Hermione!" Lily said happily, and Hermione could hear the smile in her voice. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said, her fingers twisting the cord. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Well Petunia hasn't been giving me the stink eye as much lately, which is always an improvement," Lily said airily. "Are you still coming to visit before Christmas?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing it," Hermione smiled. It faded, and Hermione gripped the phone tightly. "Lily?"

"Yes?"

"I…you're my best friend. You know that, right?"

"'Course I do, silly. What's this about?"

"Nothing. Nothing, it's nothing. I can't wait to see you. I…have so much to tell you, Lily." Her eyes burned, and she swallowed thickly. "I can't wait to tell you everything."

"Hang on, Petunia's just burst in my room—Alright!—Merlin, she thinks she's so mature for having a boyfriend. Complete tosser if you ask me, what kind of name is Vernon?"

"I wouldn't know," Hermione laughed lightly.

"I'll see you soon, okay Granger? I'm anxious to hear these stories you're itching to tell me. I'm—I'm almost done!—sorry, have to go. Bye, Hermione."

"Bye," said Hermione softly, hearing the call disconnect. Numbly she set the phone back down, her heart feeling heavier than ever before, and trudged back upstairs.

Sirius was waiting by her room, and was surprised to see her coming up the steps. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah. Let's tell James."

James had been entirely unhappy and unconvinced when they told them they were leaving to 'find something', but promised he would not say a word to Charlus or Dorea. The pair left quickly, then, heading towards the small bakery down the street, and waited inside.

Regulus arrived ten minutes later. "I'm here," he panted, shivering. "Bloody hell it's cold."

"What did you tell mother?" Sirius inquired.

"That I'm visiting Scabior. She doesn't much approve of him but she's long given up on me about him."

"Let's go to the back alley," Hermione said in a hushed tone. "We'll leave from there."

Quickly they left the bakery, glancing about inconspicuously and making sure they were not being followed. Once they were hidden in the shadows of a back alley, Hermione held out her hands. "Regulus, you're used to traveling with Kreacher, but this will be different and much less comfortable. Make sure to keep holding onto my arm tightly. Okay?"

Regulus nodded stiffly, taking her arm and gripping it tightly. Sirius held onto her other arm, and nodded reassuringly.

"Okay. One, two, three!"

They Apparated onto a large rock, water crashing around them loudly and spraying them with the ocean mist. Regulus looked shocked, as if he couldn't quite catch his breath, but Sirius rubbed his back and asked if he was alright.

"Fine," said Regulus tersely. "Is this really it?"

Hermione pressed her lips thinly, squinting at a cliff not too far away. "This is it. It's exactly how Kreacher described it. See that cliff there with the jagged rock gathered at the bottom?" The cliff was tall and faceless, a shadow of black despite the cloudy daylight. Water was foaming around the cliff, with salty ocean spray licking at their feet. "We have to swim across."

Sirius dived first, coming up for air and swiftly swimming towards the cliff side. Hermione and Regulus jumped in after him, their teeth chattering against the freezing cold water that felt as if it were dragging them down, until they reached a fissure in the rock that extended narrowly for a few feet before abruptly ending.

Hermione's hands clamped onto cold, wet rock, pulling herself up onto the lip of the cave. She was shivering all over, her hands trembling as she took out her wand.

"C-Calidus," she chattered, and Sirius and Regulus sighed in relief as their clothes dried instantly. She pointed her wand to herself and repeated the spell, her clothes immediately warmed as if fresh from a dryer.

"Is this the right cave?" Regulus whispered, looking at the cave entrance apprehensively. Sirius lit his wand and held it high, gazing at the cave walls.

"It's known magic," Sirius murmured softly. "Dark magic."

"Sirius!" Hermione said shrilly. "You shouldn't be doing magic!"

"It won't matter here," Sirius glanced at her. "The Trace won't work. This place is too heavily shrouded with magic. Voldemort made sure of that."

"You can sense it?" Regulus asked Sirius faintly. Sirius nodded.

"Keep your wands out then. You too, Regulus," Hermione lit her wand and held it out, and Regulus followed suit. "And keep your guard up."

Despite the three lit wands, it was almost impossible to see where they were going. They felt at the walls, walking hesitantly forward and holding their wands out high. Finally they reached a silver archway that led into the deep cavern of the cave. But when they drew closer, the archway disappeared, revealing a wall blocking the path.

"Let me," Regulus ushered them to back away, and held out his wand. "Bombar—"

"No!" Sirius shoved Regulus's wand aside, stricken. "Can't you tell? There's a curse upon this rock."

Hermione chewed her lower lip, staring at the wall. She remembered seeing something like this in the dark books. "I think…we have to offer payment."

"Payment?" Regulus repeated. "What kind would that be?"

"Blood payment."

They stared at her in shock.

"Let me," said Sirius.

"No," said Hermione sternly. "I won't have you hurting yourselves. I am of age; I will do it."

Without waiting for a reply, Hermione pointed her wand at her palm and sliced it, wincing at the warm trickle of blood that began to drip. She pressed her bleeding hand onto the rock and waited.

The silver archway returned once more, the rock wall disappearing as if it had never been there at all. Hermione pointed her wand at her hand again and closed up the wound; it was not perfectly sewn together, but it would do.

The cavern was boundless; a lake stretched on endlessly before them, and in the center a faint green light could be seen. They edged along the walls of the cave, careful not to step into the water. It was eerily still, not a single ripple through the black water. Hermione stared off at the green light, feeling suddenly ill.

"I can feel it," said Hermione mutedly. "It's here."

"That green light," Regulus noted, squinting his eyes. "I think…I think that's the center. The basin that Kreacher described must be there. We have to go across."

There had to be a way…Hermione stared distantly, her eyes traveling over the walls. "Sirius. Look at these walls and tell me the strongest magical signature you find."

Sirius stepped forward and glanced about slowly. Regulus was watching him, intrigued, for he had never known Sirius to have this ability and to see it was something that both impressed and frightened him, as he had never considered just how strong of a wizard Sirius was.

"There," Sirius breathed, his hand reaching forward towards one end of the wall in midair. As if grasping something, Sirius pulled hard, and a glittering chain suddenly appeared in his grasp. Hermione and Regulus helped him pull it, until a silver boat came rushing from under the water. It hardly made a sound as the water slid back into the lake, rippling briefly before going deathly still once more.

"It's very small," Sirius noticed. "Should we go in turns?"

Hermione worried her lower lip. "No…I don't feel safe having one of us there and another here. We can squeeze in."

"What if it can't hold our weight?" Regulus said anxiously.

"I have a feeling that won't be a problem," said Hermione, staring at the boat. "Voldemort wouldn't let something so mundane and muggle as weight on a boat be the obstacle. No, the real challenge will be the basin."

Sirius and Regulus squeezed onto the boat uncomfortably, and Hermione wobbled a bit as she tried finding her footing. The boat truly was fit for only one person, two with some difficulty, but three was unheard of. Voldemort must not have fathomed the possibility of three students embarking on stealing his horcrux, let alone two underage wizards. Hermione wobbled again, and Sirius caught her arm.

"Just sit here," said Sirius stiffly, not meeting her eyes. Knowing she had little other choice, Hermione sat uncomfortably on Sirius's legs.

The boat began to move on its own. The lake did not so much as shudder as the boat traveled across, and she could hear the faint tinkling of the chain against the boat. The faint green light was growing brighter and brighter, until they reached a small island at the center of the lake, and indeed—a basin sat in the middle.

They quickly jumped off the boat and approached the basin. A little cup was standing atop the rim, and swirling inside was a viscous, silvery purple liquid.

At the very bottom of the basin sat an amber, shimmering locket.

Sirius wasted no time in dipping his hand inside and reaching forward. To his dismay, he could not touch it—it was as if an invisible barrier was between them, and Sirius jerked his hand out.

"What if we…?" Regulus took the goblet and filled it with the potion, then dumped it on the ground. The basin immediately refilled.

They stood silently for a bit.

"There's no way around it," she said softly. "It must be drunk." Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, steadying herself. It was time.

But when she reached forward for the goblet, Sirius stayed her hand.

"I will drink it," said Sirius.

"No!" Hermione said at once. "No, I can't let you—"

"You know what this potion will do to whoever drinks it," Sirius said forcefully. "If you drink this, there's no guarantee you'll be able to perform magic properly. We need you to Apparate us back and to destroy the horcrux. You cannot be compromised."

"I can drink it as well," Regulus suggested quietly.

"No. If Voldemort catches a single droplet on you or in you, he'll kill you immediately. I will drink it…I was always going to drink it."

Hermione stared up at him in distress, waves of fury and agony washing over her. She had not planned for this, this was not how it was supposed to go, why was Sirius doing this, why couldn't she stop this—

"If we're to get this locket, I have to drink all of it," Sirius interrupted her thoughts. "And knowing what it did to Kreacher…you will force it down me, if you must. Okay?"

Unwillingly, Hermione and Regulus agreed. Sirius took the goblet and dipped it in the liquid. His eyes fixed on Hermione's as he brought the goblet to his lips and tilted it forward.

For a moment, they were all still. Sirius lowered the goblet, his eyes downcast, and a shadow passed over his face. He reached over and filled it again, drinking it quickly this time. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw Sirius visibly stiffen.

"Again," he said hoarsely. He held out the goblet to Hermione with trembling fingers, and she took it quickly and refilled it. Sirius grasped it and unsteadily brought it to his lips, draining it.

He began to shake uncontrollably.

"Sirius?" Regulus said anxiously.

"Again," Sirius rasped, the cup falling from his hand.

Hermione bent down to grab it and refilled the goblet. He stared at it for a long moment before drinking.

Sirius moaned loudly, until it became a bone-chilling scream.

"Sirius!" Regulus shouted, coming to his brother's side and wrapping his arms around Sirius, who was now trembling violently. "Help him!"

Hermione refilled the goblet and brought it to his lips. "This—this will help, Sirius, you have to drink all of it—"

He clamped his hand gratefully around hers and brought the cup to his mouth, drinking it quickly. He groaned loudly, tremors shaking his frame as his knees sank to the ground and Regulus followed with him.

"Please….stop…"

"After this," Hermione said, her voice cracking as she held the goblet to his mouth, "after this and it'll be over…"

Sirius drained it again, and began to cry in earnest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—don't make me—I'm sorry, don't make me!"

Regulus struggled against Sirius, trying to hold him down and keep him calm. Hating herself, Hermione filled another gobletful of potion and brought it towards Sirius.

"This will help, Sirius, this will help—it's in your head, remember? It's in your head, we're almost done, just drink this…"

Obediently Sirius drank, and his body spasmed before breaking free of Regulus's grasp and making a desperate lunge for the water. Regulus pinned him down, and Sirius started pounding at the ground.

"Please don't tell—I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Turn him over!" Hermione shrieked, and Regulus quickly pulled Sirius away from the ground; a lump was forming in her throat as she watched him writhe about as if burning alive, and Regulus fighting back tears as he tried to keep Sirius from harming himself; she refilled the goblet and noted the basin was more than halfway finished, and she crouched down by Sirius and stroked his hair, "Just one more, one more okay? I'm right here, Regulus is here, just drink one more."

He lurched again after emptying the goblet, shivering and crying and moaning, his voice childlike as he begged for Hermione to stop.

"Please…please…"

"We're almost done," Hermione said in a watery voice, "Here, drink…"

"No…"

"Drink this, Sirius, it'll help…"

Tears ran freely from her eyes as Sirius began to scream again, the sound shattering her heart and echoing against the walls; Regulus was whispering to Sirius, sniffling, and Hermione refilled the hated goblet once more. They were almost done, just two more would do it—

Sirius drank, and no sooner had he finished than he yelled, "KILL ME!"

"This—this one will," gasped Hermione. "Just drink this….It'll be over…all over!"

Sirius gulped it down, every last drop, and Hermione pulled the goblet away. He closed his eyes weakly and went limp.

"No!" Regulus yelled, hoisting Sirius and shaking him. "No, no, no, wake up!" Hermione rushed forward and pulled Sirius down onto the ground, checking his breathing. Before she could go any further, Sirius opened his eyes.

"Water," croaked Sirius. "Please."

"Water—yes—water—" Hermione jumped to her feet and went back to the basin where the goblet lay forgotten. She grabbed it quickly, pausing when she caught sight of the horcrux locket.

Hermione seized the locket and stuffed it in her pocket. Pointing her wand at the goblet, she muttered, "Aguamenti!" Instantly it filled with clear liquid.

Hermione crouched down and held the goblet to Sirius's mouth, but to her dismay the goblet was empty.

"What? I just—hold on—Aguamenti!" Hermione watched in horror as the liquid filled the goblet, only to vanish a second later.

"No, no…Aguamenti—Aguamenti—why won't this work!" Hermione cried. Sirius was now panting hoarsely, his eyes closing.

"Hermione, do something!" Regulus yelled.

"I can't! It's jinxed, it won't work—AGUAMENTI!"

In a moment of desperation, Hermione crawled to the edge of the rock and dipped the goblet into the water, only to scream when a pale, slimy hand clamped onto her arm.

"Reducto!"

The hand release her arm and fell back into the lake, but a dozen more hands slowly emerged and started to crawl towards the island.

"Inferi!" Regulus cried.

"Get back! Get back! Protect Sirius!" Hermione shouted to Regulus, and he dragged Sirius's lifeless body towards the basin and far away from the lake edges. Hermione raised her wand as the once-still lake was now swarming with rising dead bodies, all clambering towards the island where she stood. Only one spell came to mind, one she knew would be the only lasting defense.

With a vicious stroke of her wand, red and orange flames burst from the tip and gave a deafening roar. The walls shook as fire pummeled the air around her, whipping in a large circle as the Inferi scrambled away, some burning instantly while others retreated into the water. So intent was she on the controlling the fire that she had not noticed the small, slippery body that had escaped the wrath of fiendfyre, clinging to the edge of the island and slowly inching towards Hermione's feet. Regulus caught sight of a flash of pale skin, and screamed, "LOOK OUT!"

As the words fell from his lips the Inferi sprang from the water and toppled over Hermione, wrapping its arms and legs around her body like a vice.

Hermione faltered, choking against the rotting flesh that gripped her mercilessly—she heard Regulus shout and saw his leg kick at the Inferi's head, sending it sprawling next to her—her wand was lying next to her and she reached for it desperately, but the Inferi was quicker. It flopped forward and snatched the wand before she could wrap her fingers around it, and Hermione watched in horror as it squeezed and squeezed its fist until her wand snapped in half.

Regulus kicked the Inferi again and it fell into the water, burning in the circling inferno that was now in the form of a chimaera. She watched as Regulus stared briefly at the fiendfyre, a soft look in his eyes, and raised his wand high in the air. With a gentle swipe of his wand, the fire went out.

The lake was still again. Hermione looked at her broken wand. Nothing could bring it back...she picked up the two pieces and dropped them into her purse.

Hermione crawled towards Sirius, checking if he was still alive. When a pulse jumped faintly at her fingertips, Hermione almost sobbed in relief.

"He's okay…he's alright…Regulus…" she looked at him in wonder. "H-How did you put the fire out?"

Regulus shook his head, holding Sirius as if his life depended on it. Hermione staggered to her feet and checked the boat.

"The boat's okay," she gasped, turning back to Regulus. "Let's—let's get Sirius inside—grab his arms…"

The hauled Sirius into the boat and climbed after him. Sirius was half on Regulus's lap, and Hermione squeezed inside trying to take up the least amount of room she could manage. The boat began to move on its own, gliding gently on the still black water.

When they reached the entrance to the cave again they pulled Sirius out and laid him onto the ground. Hermione sighed, feeling like she could think clearly again, and dug inside her purse until she fished out a potion phial. Unstoppering it, she dumped its contents and looked to Regulus.

"I need to borrow your wand."

He stared at her unsurely before holding out his wand. Hermione took it and immediately scourgifyed the inside. After cleaning it out, she muttered, "Aguamenti." It filled with water immediately, and this time it did not disappear.

Hermione pushed Sirius's hair from his face and tilted his head up. She pried his mouth open and poured the water down his throat, and was relieved when he swallowed it immediately. She repeated this three more times until Sirius was blinking again, staring silently at nothing.

"We'll swim together," Hermione told Regulus, his wand still in her hand. They grabbed Sirius on either side and trudged towards the exit, the sound of the ocean becoming louder and louder until it was right before them, crashing against the cliff side where they stood. Regulus turned to her.

"Destroy it first," he said. "Destroy it, Hermione. We're not letting that locket leave this cave until it's dead."

Hermione swallowed thickly. "Okay."

Letting Sirius go, Hermione limped away from the two brothers and took out the horcrux locket. She could feel it thrumming dimly underneath her fingers. She set it down onto the ground.

"Do it quickly. Please," said Regulus hoarsely. Hermione pointed her wand at the locket and cast the fire, hearing it scream and scream until it fell silent. Hermione barely noticed that it did not put up a fight; perhaps it had thought the trials in the cave would have weakened Hermione beyond spellwork. It was wrong.

She ended the curse and the fiendfyre vanished, leaving a charred necklace behind. At her touch, it turned to dust.

They swam to the rock in which they first arrived on, Hermione and Regulus supporting Sirius in the water, who was awake enough to kick his feet and try to swim with them. Once they reached the rock, Hermione wrapped her arm around Sirius and pulled Regulus close to her. Squeezing Regulus's wand and making sure Sirius was still awake, she Disapparated.

It was difficult walking from the bakery to Godric's Hollow, but Regulus made sure Sirius was supported more heavily on him. Hermione pushed the door to her home open and helped Regulus inside. Sirius was unconscious now, and she muttered under her breath and levitated Sirius up the stairs and back into his room. Regulus immediately sat beside him on the bed. Hermione performed several spells to check Sirius's health, and was relieved to find he was only asleep.

Numbly, Hermione's feet took her to James's room. She opened the door, not bothering to knock, and found him sitting on his bed reading. He glanced up at her and jumped up instantly.

"Are you alright? Oh my god, Hermione, you're bleeding! Where's Sirius?" asked James, stricken.

"In his room. Regulus is here. You should sit with them."

"Is Sirius alright?"

Hermione looked at him blankly. "He will be."

She turned around, not waiting for a reply, and went straight to her room. Her body took over, jerking off her shoes and shrugging out of her clothes, walking stiffly to the bathroom. She stared at her reflection and saw bruises all along her body where the Inferi had wrapped itself around her. A lump was lodged in her throat and Hermione stepped in the shower. As the water ran down her bare skin, warm and soothing, Hermione wept uncontrollably.

 

Notes:

Note: Parts of this chapter used direct and semi-direct lines from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince; these lines belong to J.K. Rowling and were used to further the plot of this fanfiction only.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Let me know what you thought! xx

Chapter 22: Catharsis

Chapter 22

Catharsis

Regulus's hands were trembling.

He did not know how long he sat on Sirius's bed, watching him inhale and exhale in slow, uneven breaths. He did not know that James Potter had walked in several times, at first trying to ask Regulus questions before silently watching over the two of them. He did not know that hours had passed, that Potter's parents were not home, that his mother was sending an owl to Scabior asking why Regulus was staying so late at his house, that Regulus had not eaten in fourteen hours.

He did know that the smell of salt from the sea still clung to his skin and clothes, and it was enough to tug him from his thoughts. That was how James Potter walked in on him, staring at his robes and his hands in disgust.

"Hermione's resting," said Potter shortly, his jaw tense. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what happened now?"

Regulus glanced down at Sirius again. He exhaled softly, and this time it did not sound so haggard, as if Sirius's lungs were dragging air in and out with difficulty. He looked almost…peaceful.

"Everything's…worked out," Regulus replied. "He just needs rest."

He missed the flash of annoyance across Potter's face.

"But why does he need rest? What happened to him?"

Regulus stared up at James Potter. "Why? Because he drank poison."

Potter stared back at him in shock, air rushing out of him all of a sudden as if he'd been hit by a freezing curse.

Regulus glanced out the window. Too long, Regulus realized with alarm. He stood quickly and smoothed his damp robes. "Are there House-Elves in this home?"

"What? I—yes. Why?"

Regulus took out his wand and spelled his clothes dry, and instantly he was warmed. Regulus looked Potter again and smiled thinly. "The ministry won't be sending a warning owl with so much magic in the house. I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving?" Potter repeated. "No, no, you can't—you can't say that Sirius was poisoned and then not explain! Do we need to take him to the hospital? I don't know what I'm doing here, what—"

"He's not poisoned, he drank poison. And he doesn't need a hospital. Don't take him there," Regulus's eyes flashed warningly. "He just needs rest. I don't have time to stay here any longer—Hermione will explain everything when she is able."

"She won't! She's holed up in her room, flinching at everything, kicking me out when I tried talking to her—" James shook his head. "I don't know what to do, mate."

"None of us do, Potter." He turned back at Sirius. "Look after him? I'll be back when I can."

As he strode down the street and went down a corner, he summoned Leela and held her little hand as she Apparated them back to his home. He barely looked at his mother when she approached him at the staircase.

"Why didn't you or your friend answer my owl? Your father's grown ill again." Her nose wrinkled when she looked his hair. "Why is your hair wet?"

"I'm tired, Mother," said Regulus tonelessly, "I'll see to Father tomorrow. Good night."

xxx

James stopped in front of the pale door, balancing a plate in one hand. Breathing in slowly, he knocked twice.

When no answer came, he tried again. "Hermione?"

James frowned, and reached for the doorknob. The door swung open gently, revealing a dimly lit room with curtains drawn; a dying candle flickered on Hermione's desk, and James caught the scent of vanilla wafting from the pool of wax.

He ducked his head inside tentatively, and found Hermione sleeping curled up on her chair. James set the plate on her desk and bent low, blowing out the candle. He moved to leave the room, but stopped when he heard Hermione mumble.

Her brows were knitted together, her lower lip quivering just slightly as if in pain. James crept closer, and became increasingly worried when Hermione's breath faltered.

"Hermione?" James whispered. Her head twitched, hands curled in tight fists. "Hey." James gently patted her shoulder. Hermione's breathing became shallow, her eyes shut tightly, and James looked around helplessly. Should he try and wake her up? Or would she resent him for disturbing her, nightmare or not?

He remembered the way she had recoiled from him when he checked in on her an hour after she arrived with Regulus and Sirius, and the look of abject fear and a letter opener held at his throat defensively burned in his memory. Never had she gazed at him that way before—not even when he had distanced himself from her out of caution last year, not even when he had said that her plans to bring down Voldemort were transcendentally idiotic. He couldn't remember anybody looking at him the way Hermione had.

Not even Snape.

James was pulling back his hand when Hermione's eyes snapped open, dark eyes piercing his own, and a great choking gasp left her throat. Her lips moved, whispering a word he could not quite catch, uttering it under her breath and her eyes filled with tears.

"Hermione?"

His voice seemed to jar her, and Hermione's mouth closed. She swallowed thickly and blinked rapidly before shutting her eyes. "Why…are you here?"

James stared at her. Why was he here?

For answers. For Sirius.

James glanced behind him. "I brought you some food. Thought you'd be hungry, not eating last night and all."

Hermione's gaze shifted behind him. "You blew out my candle."

"…Yes. It was burning out."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Thanks for the food…I…think I'll sleep a bit more first."

He did not want to press her, or make her feel she had to tell him, but James was growing increasingly confused and impatient with Hermione's reticence.

"You can't sleep it off forever, Hermione," he said quietly. She stiffened, not meeting his eyes.

James left her room.

xxx

At the soft sound of water running, Hermione stood.

She cracked the door open and listened. She could hear the whir and patter of the shower going, and knew James would not leave his room for at least twenty minutes.

Hermione stepped out, closing the door softly behind her, and crossed the hall to Sirius's room. She paused, listening again. Her fingers shook as they grasped the knob and turned, squinting at the light coming from his window. She closed the door quickly and pressed her back against it.

Sirius's eyes were closed, breathing evenly. A glass of water stood untouched on his nightstand, sitting atop a stack of paper. To anyone, he could have been simply sleeping.

She pressed herself further against the door, a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to run, to throw the door open and shut herself away into her room, to draw the covers over her head and close her eyes and push past the faces of agony conjured in her mind and the sound of Sirius screaming and the poison dripping from her fingers and startling green eyes staring at her accusingly—

Sirius inhaled deeply, and Hermione's thoughts halted. For a moment she feared he was waking up, that he would catch her standing paralyzed in terror against the door. But he simply exhaled, his chest falling, and continued to sleep.

You're being ridiculous. She forced herself to peel away from the door and walk over to the chair by Sirius's bed, sitting down silently. She did not want to look, she was not ready to say anything.

Look. Look at what you did.

Hermione bit her lip, and finally looked at Sirius's face.

It was not twisted in agony, his mouth not parted in silent screams—Hermione released a shuddering breath and wilted, resting her hands on the edge of Sirius's mattress and pressing her forehead against them. She shook her head a little and straightened, looking at Sirius again. His complexion was pale, but not nearly as bad as Kreacher had looked when he arrived with Regulus that first day. He wasn't shuddering or erratic, which was good—Hermione reached over to brush her fingertips against his forehead, and knew he was not feverish. He truly was, by all rights, recovering.

Hermione's fingers lingered on Sirius's skin. She brushed the hair from his forehead idly, her gaze softening; she couldn't remember the last time she had been this close to him—enough to see his long lashes sweeping darkly down his eyes, his fine bone structure contrasting sharply with long, dark hair. He was unequivocally and undeniably a Black, no matter how much he denied his heritage.

She let her fingers trail down his temple and onto his cheek, her lower lip trembling. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely.

Sirius's eyes shuttered open.

A ragged gasp left her throat and Hermione snatched her hand away. He stared up at her.

"Hermione?"

There was no mistaking it. "Sirius," Hermione croaked. "You're—you're—" He began to cough, and she grabbed the glass of water. "Here," she held the glass out to him. Instinctively he jerked away, his eyes widening in fear.

Hermione froze, her eyes rounded in horror. She leaned back against the chair, replacing the glass on the nightstand.

The look of contrition was clear on his face, but for Hermione was too late. Sirius reached for her but Hermione pushed the chair back, making him grasp at empty air. "Hermione…"

The door opened and James stood before them, his hair still dripping, and Hermione vaguely realized the sound of the shower had been off for quite some time. "You're awake!" James exclaimed, rushing forward and kneeling on the opposite side of the bed. "I heard noises so I came to check and he's awake—" Wordlessly, Hermione rose from the chair and walked to the door.

"Wait, where are you going?"

But Hermione was already gone.

xxx

"Can…can you hand me the water," Sirius said weakly.

"Yeah, 'course," James jumped to his feet and crossed over to the opposite side of the bed. "I can help you drink if you like—"

"No!" said Sirius sharply. James paused, taken aback. Sirius closed his eyes, his voice going soft. "I'd like to drink it myself. Please."

James nodded. Gently he held out the glass, his hands hovering next to Sirius's to catch the glass in case it slipped. "Slowly, mate," James warned softly when Sirius began taking great gulps. Suddenly he stopped. The glass shook in his hand and Sirius looked at James blankly, his mouth pressed in a tight line, looking decidedly green.

Hastily James grabbed the rubbish bin and shoved it next to the bed, just in time for Sirius to lean over and vomit. James sat next to him and rubbed his back when Sirius continued to dry heave. He moaned brokenly, his face hidden by a curtain of black hair, and James could feel tremors running down his back.

"Better?"

Sirius spat in the bin and rolled over, leaning exhaustedly against his pillows. "A bit, yeah." He looked down at himself and grimaced. "God I need to change out of these clothes. I look like shit." He sniffed. "Smell like shit too."

"That would be the bin, mate," said James wryly.

Sirius chuckled, but his mouth twisted in pain and he tightened his arms around his abdomen. James watched the movement apprehensively.

"Sirius…what happened to you? Your brother said you had—that you drank—poison."

Sirius frowned, and closed his eyes wearily. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That I did."

"Why?" James was aghast. "Why would you do that?"

"Had to," Sirius shrugged faintly, looking back at James and eerily calm. It would have convinced him had Sirius not looked so pale.

"But why, Sirius? What was so important that you would gamble your life like this?"

"You know why."

James glared. "If you're saying it has to do with You-Know-Who—"

"I'm not saying it, it's just the truth. It had to be done."

James looked at his friend sadly. "He's not worth it, Sirius."

Sirius sighed. "But you all are."

xxx

James left Sirius's room after he'd fallen asleep and despite knowing what would result, he knocked on Hermione's door to check on her. She did not reply, and this time James did not try to convince her otherwise.

He bolted to his room and grabbed a spare bit of parchment and a quill. Chewing on his lower lip, wrote down two words and stuffed the parchment in a small envelope and wrote 'Regulus' on the front, leaving out his own name and sending the owl without second thought.

He wondered if they checked Regulus's mail like they had always checked Sirius's. He remembered after their first year, every letter he tried to send to Sirius was always brought back with a return owl, until James, Peter, and Remus had decided to come up with inventive ways to write to Sirius, which involved a heavy amount of deceptive charms on the letters with equal amounts of stealing Sirius away from his room during the summer holidays.

James headed to the kitchens and tried preparing Sirius a small lunch, but the House-Elves easily batted him away and put together a meal to help Sirius regain some of his energy. The energy lost to bloody poison, James thought bitterly as he balanced the plate in one hand and opened Sirius's door with the other. A poison—a day—that nobody seems willing to tell me about.

His thoughts halted when he saw Sirius struggling to yank out clothes from his closet. A small pile was by his feet, and James understood.

"Need some help, mate?" James set the plate on Sirius's bed and walked over. Sirius was clinging heavily onto the door of his wardrobe, sweat breaking out on his forehead that was far too pale.

"Yeah, just this bloody jumper—"

James tugged on the fabric that Sirius was trying to pry out, and it sprang free instantly. Sirius smiled gratefully and dropped the jumper with the rest of his clothes on the floor.

"Thought I'd take a shower, y'know, clean myself up. I'm a bloody mess." Sirius said it with a little smile, but James could see the edge behind it. Sirius stared at the pile for a moment, still holding onto the wardrobe door. James quickly got the impression that were Sirius to step away right now, he would likely fall to the floor.

"A bit more on the messy than the bloody, to be honest," said James as he reached down and swept the clothes into his arms.

Sirius bristled. "I got it—"

"It's nothing," said James, peering through Sirius's eyes so he could see what James meant. Sirius said nothing. "Mine or the one down the hall?"

"Yours."

James went into his own bedroom and put Sirius's clothes in the bathroom, then hung a fresh towel by the tub. James reentered Sirius's room and found him still standing by the wardrobe. He looked at Sirius carefully, then held out his arm. "C'mon, mate," he said softly.

Sirius gazed at him, his eyes unreadable, before slowly wrapping an arm around James's shoulders. Sirius leaned heavily against James once he was no longer supported by the wardrobe door, and James held Sirius tightly against himself as they slowly trudged out the bedroom. They had to stop several times for Sirius to catch his breath, but within minutes they had reached James's bathroom.

Sirius sat down on the toilet and panted, his body shaking slightly from the exertion. "After your bath you'll need to eat some food," said James, watching Sirius worriedly. "I brought some for you already, we can even eat in here if you like."

"That…would be nice. Thank you." Sirius turned his grey eyes to James, and James understood the emotion that hid behind them only too well. He knew Sirius had difficulty accepting help from others, always taking it with a look of suspicion, but James understood. And perhaps it was this notion, one Remus and Peter knew as well, that made Sirius trust them like this. Perhaps it was the understanding of suffering that brought people together.

"Will you be helping me strip as well, then?" Sirius teased, and James snorted.

"If that's what you want…"

James dodged a toothbrush and left the bathroom, chortling. Just before closing the door, James looked at Sirius firmly. "Seriously though. Call if you need something. I've seen it all before, Black, so don't even try for the modesty angle."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he began prying off his shirt. "Sod."

James closed the door and looked around his room. He stood there for a while, unsure of what he should do next. In all the excitement and frustration, James realized that he had not written to Remus and Peter yet about Sirius. Though there was not much he could actually tell them, he knew that they would want to be informed that their best friend had been—and technically still was—gravely ill.

Naturally when James actually sat down to write the letters, he found he'd used up the last of his parchment on the letter to Regulus. "'Course," James muttered as he strode out the door, making for the staircase.

He walked silently down the hall until he reached the study. He sifted through the drawers briskly, clicking his tongue at the mess his father had left; letters were stuffed in every corner of the bookcases, some edging out hopefully as James passed by, but James shook his head and said in a lighthearted tone, "Not today, little ones, and likely not ever." The envelopes silently withdrew back into the shelf.

"Here they are…" James found a stack of parchment rolls and swiped one. What would he write to Peter and Remus? 'Hey guys, Sirius was poisoned last night and nobody seems to want to tell me why, while Hermione's shut herself away, but overall everyone's okay. Are you still coming for the Christmas ball?' James snorted. "Not bloody likely."

James was almost near the staircase when he heard a soft sound, making him pause. When he heard it again, he moved away from the stairs.

The hall was dim, bathing James in shadow and chill. He crept closer, following the sound as he fought down a shiver, until he saw a silhouette standing next to the entrance to the kitchens.

Hermione stared blankly at a plate in her hands, and James recognized it to be the one he had left for her in the morning. He was satisfied to see she had eaten all of it, but the feeling dwindled when he saw the plate trembling in her hand. Hermione was shaking, her eyes squeezed shut, before she bit her lip and looked up helplessly. She blinked several times as if fighting for control, and James's heart panged with sadness.

He moved forward, wanting to show his presence and offer her whatever comfort he could, for he could not bear to see her so at war with herself, but the moment he stepped from shadows Hermione caught a glimpse of him and shrieked, sending the plate crashing to the floor. Her hand grasped at empty air as she instinctively reached for her wand, but it was not on her. Only until James shouted her name and reassured her that it was him that Hermione settled.

"What—what are you doing here?" Her brows knit together with frustration as a House Elf scurried from the kitchen, having heard the noise, and quickly cleared up the mess.

"I needed parchment," replied James, looking at her unsurely. When she made no move to reply, James continued, "Sirius is awake again."

The mention of Sirius seemed to stir something in her, and she finally met his eyes. "Is he—how is he feeling?"

"A bit better. He's taking a bath as we speak."

Hermione nodded quietly. She pushed away from the kitchen door and moved to walk past James. James shook his head, but did not say anything.

Hermione paused by him. "I know I'm being unfair to you," she said quietly. James turned to her in surprise. "You deserve answers. And—and I'll give them. I swear it, I will." Her eyes started to glisten again, and she said in a wavering voice, "But I can't, not right now. It's all just…"

James almost reached forward to pat her gently on the shoulder, but curled his fingers and willed his arm to remain at his side. "Okay."

Hermione turned to leave. Quickly, before she could disappear again, James asked, "Won't you at least see Sirius?"

Hermione paused by the staircase, a hand on the railing. "It's better if I don't." Glancing at him briefly, she ran up the stairs.

James stood there for a while, unable to shake the pooling sadness in his stomach; for when Hermione had glanced at him, despite how fleeting it had been, he had seen a fear like no other—and greater than that, a look of loneliness that had settled so deeply within Hermione that he felt she would never truly be able to shake.

And it was then that James realized that what Hermione needed was not himself, not Sirius or Peter or Remus, not even Severus Snape. They would never understand, never be close enough to her to truly help in the way she needed. She did not need their comforts or reassurances. Her wounds were not superficial, and could not be fixed by their company.

It was a wound much deeper, and one she would have to heal on her own.

xxx

It was the third time that he passed by the telephone, and he still could not find it in himself to pick up the receiver.

It's not my decision, James repeated in his head, and gritted his teeth. A week had now passed and Sirius was growing healthier by the day. Sirius had stopped James from sending the owls to Remus and Peter, saying he'd rather be in a mostly-recovered health before they came to visit and engulf him with questions and embraces.

Another thing that worried him was the absence of his parents. The day Sirius and Hermione had left on their trip, his mother and father told James very suddenly that would be leaving for Romania to visit distant relations. As far as James knew they should have returned by now—it worried him, and he wrote to them last night, but had yet to receive a reply. It was odd, for with his parents gone the weight of the family had been unintentionally placed on him—managing the house, taking care of Sirius, and making sure Hermione was okay.

Or, as okay as she could be.

There had been several instances when James had almost run into Hermione in the rare occasions that she stepped out of her room, and each had left her in a state of panic; it had not taken long for James to see that any time he almost touched her, she would react defensively. He did not know why, and when he asked Sirius about it, he shook his head and did not understand either.

And when James prodded on what had happened the night they returned, Sirius merely closed his eyes and said, "It's not my place to say just yet. I need to speak with Hermione first."

Hermione, in turn, would not see even Sirius.

James knew that she desperately wanted to. She paid rapt attention whenever he updated her about him, but Hermione never pressed any further than that.

But what was worrying him, what was eating away at James, was when Hermione slept.

Her dreams were fitful, enough that James could hear her muttering in her sleep. Normally he would not intervene, but when her mutterings became cries James would panic and rush to her side—only to find her even angrier that he came at all, shrinking from him, and urging him out of her room. He noticed she would always reach for her wand but never had it on her, to which he asked, "Where is your wand?"

She replied quite coldly, "I don't have a wand anymore."

James was in shock. Sirius did not know about it either, for when he asked him about it Sirius all but jumped out of the bed.

"No wand? What the hell is she talking about?" he blanched, and tried to swing his legs over the mattress to get up. He stumbled and James had to bodily push a protesting Sirius back onto the mattress.

"Stop always trying to get up when you can't!" James growled. "Honestly, you'd think you'd've learned by now!"

"I'm tired of always sitting!" Sirius exploded agitatedly. "Always getting my meals here, always needing help to get to the bloody toilet—I need to get better, I need to see her—"

"And you'll do all those things, but not by being a bloody idiot," James said shortly. He sighed and pushed his glasses up to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I don't know what to do anymore."

In the back of his mind, he knew Hermione needed help. She needed something, because staying by herself was hurting her far more than anything else.

And so, he stood by the telephone.

He stared at it in indecision. He wasn't even sure if he had the right number. But he had seen it in Hermione's room, written it down quickly while she was getting food from the kitchens, and felt positive it had to be the one. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, James picked up the receiver and began to dial.

His stomach flipped nervously when it rang. It leapt in his throat when he heard a click and a soft voice say, "Evans residence."

"May I speak with Lily?" said James anxiously.

"Of course, dear."

He heard another sound, like a far-away shout and the phone being put down. James's fingers twisted around the cord apprehensively. Suddenly he heard Lily, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's James," he said hoarsely, and then cleared his throat. "Er, James. James Potter, from school."

"Potter?" She sounded incredulous. "Did you take this number from Hermione?"

"Er, yes. But—but not for what you think. Really," he assured, for he could imagine the delicate eye roll Lily would be giving him were she standing right before him. "I'm not calling about myself. It's about Hermione."

"What? What is it?" Lily asked, confused.

"That's the thing. I…I don't know. She's been unwell, and she's been having bad nights, bad dreams, where she'll…" he lowered his voice, and continued softly, "she's having panic attacks. I don't know what's going on, Evans, she won't speak to me or Sirius. She all but screams if anyone tries to get near her. My parents are away, I have no one else to contact, I'm—I'm really worried about her."

"…I'm glad you called me," Lily said softly. "When did this start?"

"A week ago. I really can't explain properly like this. Could you—that is—do you think you could come over?" James closed his eyes and sighed, clenching his jaw. "I don't know what to do, Lily. You're the closest to Hermione out of all of us."

There was a long pause. James blinked. "Evans, you still there?"

"Yes." Then, "I'll be there in an hour."

James nodded weakly, and hung up the phone.

For Hermione's sake, he hoped he did the right thing.

xxx

On the second knock James opened the door.

"Potter," Lily nodded.

James smiled. "Evans." He stepped aside to let her through, and closed the door behind her. "That was fast."

"I got my license," Lily shrugged. "Mum and Dad got me a car, so I didn't have to ask for a ride or take the bus anymore." She glanced up the winding staircase. "Is she in her room?"

"Yeah," James nodded. "Look, I…really appreciate you coming. Thank you."

Lily gazed at him softly. "It's nothing. She'd do the same for me. And even if she wouldn't, I would still come."

James led Lily upstairs, silence falling between them. With every step James felt heaviness in his chest tantamount to guilt. He kept imagining how horribly this would go wrong—how Hermione would no longer trust him—how his parents, once they returned, would be disappointed in him for not taking care of everything—

"This one," James stopped before Hermione's bedroom door. "She's inside."

Lily nodded, staring resolutely at the door. Noticing that James lingered, she glanced sideways at him. "Later, then, Potter."

Without a second's hesitation, Lily raised her arm and knocked three times.

Inside, Hermione groaned.

How many times would James try to see her? Hermione was far past disgruntled and well into the territory of grave annoyance. Why couldn't James see that she needed time to herself? Why could nobody understand that the last thing she wanted—the last thing she was ready for—was a perpetual audience? The visitors in her memories haunted her enough; the deadened green eyes, the sound of screaming, and the choking cold grip that wrapped around Hermione's body in a slimy, lithe embrace, squeezing the air out of her until her vision swam in darkness and agony—

The door knocked again. Sighing unhappily, Hermione did her best to squash down the haunting thoughts and opened the door.

Lily Evans stood before her.

"Hello," said Lily, smiling slightly. "May I come in?"

Hermione's mouth parted in shock. For a while she stood there on the threshold to her room, dumbstruck and staring at Lily as if she were an apparition.

Finally Hermione forced out a 'yes', and let Lily through.

She sat awkwardly on her bed as Lily took off her coat and boots. An unsure smile tugged at Hermione's lips when Lily finally sat across from her.

"James Potter has my phone number," said Lily with a slight smirk.

"What?" said Hermione, surprised. "How?"

"I'd guess he nicked it from your room when you weren't looking," Lily waved off-handedly. "Gave me a call and asked me to come over."

Hermione stilled. She picked at the bedsheet, lowering her eyes.

"Did he?"

"He did."

"Hm."

Lily eyed her carefully. "I'm not here to start interrogating you or give you a hard time, Hermione. Your brother's worried about you, that's all. But I'm not just going to march in here and demand answers—that's not who I am."

Hermione looked at Lily, her eyes widened. "Then what?"

Lily shrugged. "Anything. Nothing. But you won't stay locked away in your room by yourself anymore; that's the only thing. You've had your time." Lily paused. "But, if you don't want me in here, I won't stop you. Do you want me to leave?"

Hermione closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head.

"Then I'll stay," Lily said softly.

They sat in silence for a while, and Lily pushed herself forward so she could lean against the wall. Hermione let out a short laugh.

"Something funny?"

"James," Hermione smiled, shaking her head bitterly. "He must've told you what's been going on, then."

"Actually, no," said Lily, frowning. "All he said was you were having some bad dreams. He didn't know what else to do, what with the Potters gone."

"They're gone?"

Lily saw the incredulous look and she narrowed her eyes. "You didn't notice that the Potters weren't home?"

"I…" Hermione trailed, thinking back to every time she left her room. She had assumed…she thought they weren't asking about her out of respect for her privacy, and that each time she'd went to get food, they simply weren't downstairs…

"But then—where are they?"

"I wouldn't know," Lily replied. Hermione's heart panged, guilt washing over her in ripples. The Potters hadn't been home for a week, and she never even cared to realize it.

Hermione dropped her head in her hands, hunching over with the weight of her mistakes bearing down on her body. Every breath felt like a herculean effort, every nerve in her body stretched thin and raw, her mind swirling in a sea of confusion and worry and anger. She closed her eyes when she felt Lily rubbing her back in soft, soothing sweeps.

"I'm so tired," said Hermione.

"I know, darling," Lily murmured softly, and inside something in Hermione fractured.

The words, so gently uttered, without any judgement or expectation or pity, words she had missed, brought a sudden onslaught of memories and emotions. A clear image of Hermione's mother emerged in her mind, who had often soothed Hermione's worries away with gentleness and warmth and patience, and a great shudder rippled through her.

"Lily," said Hermione, anguished. She looked up at Lily with helplessly wide eyes and in moments she was wrapped in a warm, tight embrace. She sank into it, her body trembling, and held onto Lily with all she had left in her, with every ounce of love she could possibly and impossibly give. It was the first time Hermione allowed herself to be held since the cave, too terrified of the life being squeezed out of her, but in that moment Lily's arms were Hermione's providence, and she never felt safer.

"I'm sorry," Hermione wept, and she could feel Lily's head shake no, that it was alright, but Hermione knew it wasn't. And for a moment she hated herself for it, hated that she was being so deplorably weak and put everyone she loved in danger and hated that she wasn't able to destroy the horcruxes on her own. She hated the lies that threaded her friendships together, the pain and danger she put Sirius and Regulus and Snape through, the tears she could not control or stop. She hated that Hermione had the chance to be Lily's friend and know what it meant to be loved by her, to be held by her, to be cared by her, when Harry was denied that right. It felt like betrayal; it felt like injustice.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said again, and Lily stroked her hair.

"What's there to be sorry about?" said Lily quietly. "You're allowed to feel pain, Hermione; you're allowed to mourn your suffering."

"No," Hermione shook her head against Lily's chest, sniffling. "It's more than that. It's so much more than that. I owe you so many apologies, Lily, I owe everyone an apology; I wish I wasn't here, I wish I had my parents…"

Lily stroked her hair silently, letting Hermione go on. "I haven't been truthful with you Lily. For a very long time. I wish I'd told you first. I-I wanted to, but I was just so afraid." She chuckled, wiping her eye. "If I had a Knut for every time I felt afraid..."

Half-heartedly, Hermione slowly extracted herself from Lily's arms. Lily looked at her inquisitively, but no less warm. Hermione glanced down at her hands, her insides writhing with anxiety and the smallest sliver of hope. "Will you—will you promise not to be angry with me? At least not at first. Please, please, please."

Lily looked at Hermione in shock. After a while, she finally said, "Yes."

Hermione could not hold it in any longer, did not want to deny herself the freedom of telling Lily. Despite the warning in her heart, despite the misery that came with confiding her secret and worrying that she had sentenced yet another friend to the uncertainty of pain, in that moment Hermione could not stop. It was the first time she was telling someone not because she had to, and not because someone figured it out and she was forced to tell the truth. She was telling Lily of her own volition and her own consent—not out of misunderstanding or a sense of duty, but because she was simply human.

"You won't believe me at first, but just try," Hermione said quietly. "It sounds ridiculous even to me…" she shook her head. "Merlin. Okay. Lily, I'm a time-traveler."

Lily blinked. "A time-traveler."

"Yes." Hermione continued, "I was born 19th September, 1979. I went to school at Hogwarts, as one would, until the end of my sixth year, when Dumbledore came to me and asked me to take on a mission. It would be lifelong and permanent, but—but I agreed, because it would save my friends and family. Voldemort, you see, he—he's still around in my time, and was getting stronger and stronger…he went as far as to split his soul into six pieces and conceal them into various objects, just so he could never be truly destroyed.

"Dumbledore, worried about what would happen in the future, used a Time-Turner to see if we would win the war. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure he wanted to go into the future to destroy Voldemort but it didn't work the way he wanted. So he came back, pulled me aside, and told me what had to be done. Everybody was dead, you see. Voldemort had won. Everyone I cared about, everyone who had the fate of being born with wizard's blood from muggle parents, were dead."

Lily inhaled sharply, but did not comment. Hermione looked away bitterly. "Perhaps I was young and still learning, perhaps I was brave to the point of stupidity, but I accepted the mission. I let Dumbledore use me to go into the past, to 1975, and destroy the horcruxes as they are being made thus leaving Voldemort vulnerable. But it hasn't been easy. I've made so many mistakes and put my friends' lives in danger anyway."

She looked at Lily, her eyes red-rimmed and weary. Hermione could see the pain in Lily's gaze, the way her eyes flickered over Hermione as if she wanted to reach out to her.

"That's what happened last week, Lily. Sirius, Regulus, and I had gone hunting down a horcrux, and it went all wrong. I put Sirius's life in danger, he—he almost died!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "And Regulus, he tried so hard. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't have made it out. He saved my life. I made him watch Sirius suffer, I poured poison down Sirius's throat, and a lake full of Inferi rose from the water and tried killing us…" Hermione could not speak anymore, too overwrought with emotion, and pressed her hands against her eyes.

Once her tears finished, she straightened once more. Lily had yet to say anything, but she was not running and she was not calling Hermione a liar. It gave Hermione the confidence to continue.

"I know it makes no sense. I know it sounds impossible, but this my truth. I'm not from this time. I used a special Time-Turner that permanently leaves you decades into the past, reforming destiny. When I got here, I woke up in this room and found myself to be James Potter's adoptive sister. My relatives had just been murdered. I already had a transfer letter from the Headmaster that I would be attending Hogwarts as a fifth year. Everything was laid out for me without my having to do anything.

"And I've been lying Lily—lying to you, to James, to Remus and Peter, and Severus and Sirius before they found out who I really am. It's killing me. It's eating me away. I thought I could do it, I thought things were getting better once I had destroyed three of Voldemort's horcruxes. But this last one, the one in the cave, it's destroyed me. I feel fear, all the time. I feel weak and tired and alone. I'm so tired Lily," Hermione said weakly. "I'm so tired. I've tried being brave for more than a year now, but it's not working. I feel alone and scared, like nothing I do will make a difference. I can't bear the thought of you or anyone else getting hurt because of me." Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced the truth to come from her lips, "I can't bear doing this anymore."

They sat in silence, the only sound being Hermione's sniffling. Lily reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a box of tissues, and handed them to Hermione. Hermione took it gratefully and blew her nose.

After a while, Lily said quietly, "That is a heavy, heavy burden for such a small person."

Hermione looked up at Lily sharply, hope in her eyes.

"You—you believe me?"

"Do you really have to ask that?" Lily raised an eyebrow. Hermione was struck speechless. Lily sighed. "Well first, I can't believe Albus bloody Dumbledore did something as foolish as experiment with the Sands of Destiny without having a real plan. And then, as if he couldn't make matters any worse, he enlisted a seventeen-year-old girl to leave behind her entire life just to clean up his own mess?"

Hermione's mouth dropped in shock. "You-you know about the Sands of Destiny?"

"I've done my fair share of reading, Hermione," said Lily serenely. "What you described when telling your tale fits what the Sands of Destiny are supposed to do. But I never imagined they actually existed. I thought it was mere myth."

"I did too," said Hermione, still in disbelief. "But yes, Dumbledore found the Time-Turner."

Lily nodded. "One thing I don't quite understand," she began, and Hermione prepared herself for the worst. "Why did you think I would be angry with you?"

Hermione's lips parted. "Oh, well…I guess I just thought you'd be angry I hadn't told you sooner. That I had put so many people in danger."

Lily leaned forward, peering into Hermione's watery brown eyes. "And has anyone been angry on your behalf, for the amount of danger you have to put yourself in?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Not knowing what to say, she stared at Lily's piercing green eyes, and felt something like peace settling in her heart.

"Lily."

For what seemed like hours, Lily and Hermione talked. Hermione was feeling more and more like herself again, and found herself laughing more than once at something Lily said.

Eventually a knock came from outside, and without a word Lily sprang up and opened the door halfway.

"Is everything alright?" asked James, his eyes flitting past the door unsurely.

Lily smiled.

"It is. It means a lot you stopped by to ask. We're going to talk a bit more, if you don't mind."

At James's unconvinced look, Lily softened her gaze. "Honestly. It's going to be alright."

When Lily returned to Hermione's side, Hermione groaned.

"I have a thousand apologies for James. He's been so kind and patient, I've worried him so much these past few days."

"He's a good man," Lily agreed, a soft smile on her lips. "You should have heard him on the phone. He was so nervous, calling me."

Hermione smiled. "Did he do that stutter-repeat thing?"

"Yeah," Lily said fondly.

"He always does that around you, it's hilarious," Hermione grinned, and Lily ducked her head. Hermione watched Lily, a knowing look dawning on her. "Lily Evans," she said wondrously. "You're starting to fancy him."

Lily shot her a glare. "I am not," she folded her arms. "I'm simply…acknowledging that he has many redeeming qualities. He's a good brother to you, and a good friend. He's grown a lot since fifth year."

"He has," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I think he realized trying to be impressive wasn't actually impressing anybody."

"About bloody time," Lily said under her breath.

They fell in companionable silence. Lily looked at her suddenly, and Hermione quirked a brow. "What is it?"

Lily pressed her lips together. "If you could…would you go back?"

Hermione went still. "What?"

"If you could, if you somehow had a chance to go back to your proper time, would you go back?"

"I…" Hermione didn't know what to say. Would she go back? Instinctively her mind said, Yes! But when she thought about leaving Lily, and James, and Remus, Peter, and Severus….And when her mind came to Sirius, her heart twisted painfully. Could she leave them?

"What does it matter?" said Hermione finally. "It'll never happen. I can't use the Time-Turner anymore. The sand is all gone."

"That's exactly it," said Lily, staring deeply at her as if willing for Hermione to see what Lily was seeing. "The Sands still exist somewhere, don't they? You used your two tries, so they disappeared. I'd bet you anything there's still two grains of sand in the Time-Turner you have, the grains you used up. The rest are gone."

Hermione frowned, but now she was getting curious. She did remember seeing a tiny speck of red sand in the Time-Turner…hastily Hermione dropped to her knees and dug out her trunk, shoving things aside until she found her little handbag. When she took out the golden Time-Turner, Lily inhaled sharply.

Hermione held the pendant up to her eyes so that the light would hit it directly. Her heart faltered when, just as Lily had guessed, she could make out two tiny grains of red sand inside.

"Lily…how did you know?" she asked as she handed over the necklace to Lily's outstretched hand.

"It was a theory," Lily muttered, sounding just as surprised as Hermione as she inspected the Time-Turner. "From what I've read and what you told me. I didn't think I'd actually be right."

"But what does this mean?" asked Hermione. "Are you saying somewhere right now, the Sands of Destiny are in a different vessel? Hidden away somewhere?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Lily pondered. "We know they exist. Someone must have used it and tested it to have written down its properties. Dumbledore used it twice, and still managed to give you this one to use for yourself. Shouldn't the sands have disappeared for him as well? Or did he go out and find it again for you to use?"

"Surely he would've just used it on himself, wouldn't he?" Hermione said dubiously, biting her lip. "Why bother giving me this task?"

Lily fell silent, thinking.

"The laws of nature," she said suddenly. "He broke them by returning to his own present time. He was dying, he could never have used it in time—or maybe, he wasn't able to." Lily's eyes flitted frantically in thought. "There's always consequences…maybe Dumbledore had broken too many rules by then to be granted use of the Sands of Destiny again."

"Maybe," said Hermione distantly. "Again, this leads us nowhere. We have no idea where the Sands of Destiny are right now. And besides, my priority is to destroy the horcruxes, not look for a way back home."

"God Hermione, don't you want a long-term plan?" Lily snapped. "Why won't you allow yourself to even consider it? Look, you will destroy the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort and survive. It's going to happen. So why not think ahead? You just told me how unhappy you are here," Lily said, and Hermione's chest tightened.

"N-no, I didn't mean…I'm happy, I love you all…"

"But it's not the same," Lily finished quietly. "I'm just giving a suggestion, that's all. The option is there. I don't want you to feel like you're trapped here forever, since that's something that's been bothering you for a long time."

Hermione wanted to argue, but kept silent. There were too many variables in this tentative, impossible plan. The Sands of Destiny worked in a way that reformed fate to neatly fit the time-traveler in the desired decade. Would she not be damaging the fabric of space and time by reforming her destiny again? Did she really even want to return?

But the idea of it, the smallest prospect that it was possible to go back, whispered to Hermione tantalizingly.

When their stomachs began growling loudly, Lily laughed and jumped off the bed. "I think it's high time we left this room, now."

Hermione smiled and followed suit, stretching her arms high above her head. Lily reached forward and gave her one last long, warm hug. Hermione stiffened at first, but hugged back tightly.

Lily pulled away. "I'm going to check on James. Poor chap must be running in circles in his room." She looked at Hermione unsurely. "Will you try talking to Sirius?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I think…I should. I've avoided him long enough." She took a great shuddering breath, steadying herself.

Lily tapped a finger under Hermione's chin. "Do what you're comfortable with. Nobody's forcing you, okay?"

"I know," said Hermione.

Lily looked at her worriedly. "Everybody makes mistakes. You can't blame yourself and spiral every time something goes wrong. Sirius and Regulus, even Snape—they chose to help you. They love you, Hermione. It's hard not to," she smiled wryly. "You've been accustomed to internalizing everything until you reach a breaking point, and this one has been the hardest on you. It's time for you to start trusting us too."

With that, Lily gently opened Hermione's door and left the room, leaving the door open. Hermione bit her lip and let Lily's comforting words wash through her. She wasn't wrong; since the very beginning and during her school years at Hogwarts, Hermione always internalized her stress and misery until she broke down in a very public and emotional way. It was exhausting, and Hermione wasn't sure if she would break so easily from the habit. But the words that had stuck with Hermione the most was the notion that perhaps it was time to start trusting others with herself.

Hermione sauntered out of the room and walked across the hall. Licking her dry lips and making sure there were no tear stains down her cheeks, Hermione entered Sirius's room.

He was sitting up on the bed, gazing softly out the window. At the sound of the door opening he turned his head, and Hermione was momentarily robbed of breath when those familiar grey, penetrating eyes met hers.

"Hermione," Sirius said suddenly, trying to sit up, "I—"

Hermione crossed the two steps it took to reach his bed and sat threw her arms around him. Sirius returned the embrace, engulfing her in his arms and pressing his face into her untamable hair.

She pulled away. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'm sorry I've avoided you and James. I should've handled the situation better, and I didn't."

"Love, it's alright," said Sirius softly. "It hurt a bit, but it's alright. You're here now. You needed time." He looked at her unsurely. "I sort of…don't really know what happened in the cave after I started drinking the potion. I think I blacked out."

"You did for a bit," Hermione said hoarsely and looked away, ashamed. "You s-started screaming, asking us to kill you. But it stopped once you finished the last cupful, and I got the horcrux."

"Did you destroy it?" he asked, hope lighting in his eyes.

Hermione nodded silently. Sirius closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. "That's not all," said Hermione. "The lake—it was full of Inferi. I disturbed the water by accident and they came out and attacked. I used fiendfyre on them and it worked, but one of them grabbed me and tried to—" she swallowed thickly. "Regulus managed to kick him into the fire. My wand broke in the process. I had to use Regulus's to Apparate us back home."

"Blimey…I don't remember any of this," Sirius breathed, his brows knit together in concentration.

Hermione stroked his shoulder. "It's okay. Kreacher didn't remember either, remember? Else he would've warned us about the Inferi."

"Damn. You're right." Sirius sighed, rubbing his hand against his jaw. When he turned to look at her, his gaze softened. He reached out and brushed his thumb under her eyes. "You've been crying."

Hermione suppressed a snort. "You have no idea." She looked down at herself a bit self-consciously. "Yeah, I'm sure I look quite attractive right now, don't I," she said dryly.

"You always do," said Sirius simply. Hermione looked at him sharply, and Sirius seemed to realized what he had said aloud, for his eyes had gone wide and his neck began to grow pink.

But Hermione, despite herself, smiled slowly. She bit the inside of her lip when Sirius started smiling too, until he laughed and she hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"I told Lily," Hermione added, peering at Sirius unsurely. He merely smiled.

"I'm glad. I had a feeling you've been wanting to for a bit."

"Oh did you?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Sirius nodded smugly.

"I did."

Hermione gazed at Sirius. "I'm glad you're alright, Sirius."

"Of course I'm alright," said Sirius. "I was with you."

xxx

Lily wasn't sure which bedroom belong to James, but decided to try the one whose door was already open.

A strange feeling was blooming in her stomach as she crept closer. Lily frowned at it, not at all happy with what her subconscious was trying to tell her. She peeked inside and saw James sitting in front of a desk, chewing on a sugar quill.

Lily cleared her throat.

James glanced at her and scrambled to his feet. Lily hid a smile when he stumbled a bit, raking his hand sheepishly through his untidy hair.

"How is she?" asked James hesitantly.

Lily shrugged, her expression neutral. "Better, I think."

"Thank Merlin," James visibly deflated a bit, the worry in his shoulders loosening with relief. Lily smiled at his concern.

"You care about her a lot," said Lily observantly.

"'Course I do. She's my sister," said James. "And my friend. I couldn't stand seeing her so miserable."

"You made a good choice, asking for help," said Lily. "Not many people do that, you know. Asking for help when they know the situation is beyond their reach."

James shrugged. "It's not a contest. I don't care if I'm not the one Hermione, or anybody else I care about, can turn to. As long as they get the help they need, that's what matters."

Lily nodded. "She's lucky to have you for family."

James smiled at her warmly, and Lily smiled back.

xxx

After a quick phone to her mum, Lily announced that she would be staying the night. Hermione implored that it was not necessary but Lily was having none of it.

"D'you want take-away?" Lily asked as they sat crowded in Sirius's room.

"What's that?" asked James as he braided Sirius's hair very badly (though Sirius seemed to find it extremely amusing).

"Muggle fast food, basically. It's very good if you know the right places. I can order us some if you like?"

"Oh I haven't had take-away in ages," Hermione moaned wistfully. "Yes, please!"

"But we have plenty of food," James reassured in confusion. "Honestly, just because Mum and Dad are gone doesn't mean we'll starve."

"Yes, but this is take-away," Hermione said patiently. "And you yourself just said you didn't know what it was. What better time to have an exciting night with just us four, the tele, and muggle food?"

"You two help Sirius get downstairs, I'll get the phone," Lily jumped up and skipped out of the room, while Sirius used James for support to stand up. Hermione was happy to see that he really was getting better, and the weakness that the potion had caused in his body was slowly dissipating.

Sirius and Hermione had eventually sat James down to tell him what exactly had happened the night they returned from the cave. He had been equal parts furious and frightened, and ended by making them promise to tell James the truth whenever they would go out hunting for horcruxes. Hermione knew that James could tell they still weren't telling him everything, but did not press any further.

Once Sirius, James, Lily, and Hermione had settled comfortably downstairs, Lily took it upon herself to sift through the channels on the tele as they waited for the take-away to arrive.

"There!" Hermione said frantically. "I think it's a new episode!"

Lily crowed in excitement and rushed to sit next to Hermione on the sofa. When the opening credits began, Sirius scowled.

"What is this?"

"Doctor Who," Lily and Hermione said in unison.

"Doctor what?" said Sirius skeptically. James laughed.

"It's this strange show these two watch," James recalled fondly. "Evans told me all about it last summer, remember?"

"It's a show about a time-traveling alien who flies in a big blue box," Lily explained. Sirius smirked and looked knowingly at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"Where's this alien from?" Sirius humored them.

"From the planet Gallifrey. He's what you'd call a time lord, and he has the ability to regenerate into a new person as a defense mechanism when he's nearly about to die," Lily told them. James, to their surprise, was genuinely intrigued.

"Muggles have the most amazing imaginations," Sirius grinned. "So how many times has this wonky bloke regenerated, then?"

"Three times that we know of. This guy's the fourth doctor," Lily pointed at the screen. "I love his companion, though, Sarah Jane Smith. There she comes now," they all watched the screen as a young, brown-haired woman in a little hat emerged from the blue box. Lily sighed adoringly.

When the take-away arrived, they discovered Lily had ordered Indian food. Hermione, already quite accustomed to the spice, dug in quite easily, but within a few bites James and Sirius were reaching for the water in desperate gulps.

"What is an android and why are they invading?" James complained, still not used to the amount of unfamiliar muggle terminology. Hermione never realized how much they didn't know, how ignorant the wizarding world was to the rest of the world.

"We really need to take you to out to muggle places," said Hermione. "I'm so serious. You really are missing out on some truly impressive technology and culture."

"We can go tomorrow," Sirius suggested eagerly.

"I dunno," Hermione bit her lip. "I don't want you to overexert yourself. It'll be a lot of walking."

"We need to go anyway, though," said James. "Hermione, you need a new wand."

Hermione blinked, startled. "Oh. Oh, right, yes. I do need a wand."

"We'll go bright and early tomorrow," said Lily with a tone of finality. "It's not safe wandering around without a wand, especially in these times."

With that settled, the four Gryffindors returned to their meal, which lasted very briefly after a loud argument broke on whether those muggles were actually put under a very strong Imperius curse.

xxx

Wrapped in woolly scarves and knitted sweaters, James, Sirius, Lily, and Hermione packed inside Lily's car and headed to Diagon Alley. They parked just outside the Leaky Cauldron and eagerly rushed to the back of the pub, Sirius hobbling a bit slower than the rest. Hermione wrapped her arm around his as she guided him to the brick wall, and Lily tapped on the bricks to allow entrance to Diagon Alley.

It felt like home again, the one place that never failed to bring a smile to her lips and fond memories before her eyes. Crowds of younger children had their faces pressed against the display glass of Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the latest broom (a Cleansweep Six). Quickly they herded towards Ollivander's, and rubbed their hands at the warmth of the shop once inside.

It had been so long since she entered Ollivanders; one only ever made the one trip just before the start of the first year, so to stand here again in the middle of the winter felt odd. She hoped that it would be the last time.

"Wonder where he is?" Sirius whispered, glancing about. Ollivander was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione stepped forward to the counter and peered down the endless rows of shelves. She turned back and shrugged helplessly at Sirius. When she turned back to the counter, however, Hermione jumped in surprise when she saw Ollivander waiting for her.

"How can I help you today, dear?" he asked kindly.

"Oh! Er-I'd like a new wand, please," Hermione said politely.

Ollivander clicked his tongue. "Broke it then, did you? Such a shame…though I don't recall selling you one. Where did you buy yours last time?"

"Er—Gregorovitch's."

"Ah, of course, of course…well, I can assure you that any wand sold here is made much sturdier, I can tell you that…yes…" he reached behind him and danced his fingers across the boxes, until fishing out a black one. "Try this. Oak, dragon heartstring, nine and a quarter inches."

Hermione lifted the wand and swung it, and accidentally set a pot on fire. Ollivander clicked his tongue again irritably, extinguishing the flames with a flick of his wand and walking down the row of shelves.

"No, no…something very particular, I can sense it…ah." He returned to the counter and set down a box, opening it delicately and holding the wand out to her. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she held it. It seemed oddly familiar.

When Hermione waved the wand, she felt an inexplicable burst of energy course through her; the tip of the wand glow white until bursting into a shower of golden sparks, each which became a caricature of twittering birds. She couldn't stop the grin that spread on her face, deftly rolling the wand between her thumb and forefinger. Holding this wand felt natural to her, as if she were always meant to have it.

When Hermione looked back at Ollivander to announce she'd be purchasing this one, she was surprised to find him peering at her curiously.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Curious," he muttered. "This is indeed very, very curious."

"What is?"

"That wand there is Holly, eleven inches, with a single phoenix feather in its core. Very nice and supple in your hands, don't you think?"

"Yes…" The wheels in Hermione's mind were turning, and the words reverberated in her mind like a distant echo. Holly…phoenix feather…eleven inches…

Hermione froze, the color draining from her face. Slowly, she looked at the wand in her hand, now trembling slightly in her grip.

Harry.

This was Harry's wand.

She did not pay attention to what Ollivander was saying. She caught glimpses of words like 'another feather', 'powerful wizard', but she did not care. Harry's wand, the wand that had saved him so many times, the one that had connected with Voldemort's almost in an act of defiance, now belonged to her.

She swallowed thickly. Lifting her other hand, she ran her fingers along the wand carefully, and closed her eyes. For the first time in sixteen months, Hermione felt immeasurably close to Harry Potter. This…Hermione gazed at the wand, a lump forming in her throat. This was the closest she could ever get to the Harry that she knew, the Harry from her past. She could not help but feel that this was, indeed, a design of fate; that though Harry was not with her, and their relationship would never be the way it once was, fate had given her a small gift to remember him by forever. Every time she'd cast a spell, every time she'd hold this wand, Harry would be there with her. In her memories, in her heart, Harry would always be there.

And so she realized that by owning Harry's wand and denying him the fate of defeating Voldemort and taking it upon herself, Hermione knew she had done something right.

Tearing her gaze away from the wand, Hermione saw that James and Lily had taken to standing on either side of her.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, her voice heavy with concern.

Hermione beamed, her heart feeling lighter than it ever had before in her life, and she replied quite simply, "I've never been better."

Chapter 23: Half-Truths

Chapter 23

Half-Truths

Lucius Malfoy stared at the empty slot. A fine layer of dust had gathered there where a leather-bound book had once stood, flecking silver and grey in the dim candlelight.

He bit the tip of his thumb as he paced back and forth before the row of bookcases. The wax now melted dangerously low on the candlesticks, the flickering flame cast oblong shadows across the marble floor. How long? How long?

A loud pop! echoed in the room and a little elf appeared by Lucius's side, his knobby fingers twisting in the tattered pillowcase hanging loosely from his shoulders.

"Well?" Lucius demanded.

"The item Master described isn't in the Estate," the elf knelt clumsily before Lucius, looking up at him cautiously. "Master, we tried—"

"Not. Hard. Enough," he snarled, and the elf shrank lower onto the ground. "It's here! It's somewhere in this house, it has to be—"

"Lucius."

Lucius stopped. The threatening curl of his lip slipped, and he swallowed thickly. "I did not hear you come in, dear."

Narcissa arched an eyebrow, her nightgown gliding soundlessly across the marble, and stopped before Lucius. "So," Narcissa appraised the frightened House-Elf. "He did not find it." She looked up Lucius again, her face hardened. "You know what this means."

Lucius paled. "Narcissa…"

Narcissa stared back wordlessly. Lucius closed his eyes, the fight deflating from his body.

"He will be angry," Lucius whispered, his eyes darting back and forth across Narcissa's face. "He will be so angry, Narcissa. You do not know his fury, you've never seen….the things he can do, he is not called the Dark Lord without reason…"

"He will be angrier if he finds you've been keeping this from him," said Narcissa sharply. "If you tell him now, on your own, you may have mercy."

Lucius wilted under her stare.

"I…I shall call on him in the morning—"

"You will call on him now," said Narcissa firmly. She turned away from Lucius to begin her own pacing. "He will see it as loyalty—to call at such an hour, as if you contacted him immediately. There will be trust. You must call him now!"

Lucius cursed. Slender fingers pulled back the white sleeve on his left arm as he stared at the pale skin underneath. The Mark was all but disappeared, receded into his skin until summoned. Lucius spread his fingers and held them hovering above his forearm.

It began as a small thrum, a vague sensation of something until the burning began. He hissed through his teeth. The Mark seared his flesh as it resurfaced, twisting and coiling in fresh black ink as a skull yawned, and the spindly shape of a serpent unfurled from its mandible.

The crack that followed was unmistakable.

The elf was still cowering where Lucius had lost his patience. Narcissa stepped forward and ordered, "Bring our guest straight here."

The little elf bobbed his head in a fervent curtsy, then disappeared.

"You should g…" Lucius started to suggest, but the look Narcissa gave him made the rest of his words die on his lips.

No word was spoken after that. Narcissa wrung her hands as she stared into the fireplace, her eyes flickering amber. Lucius leaned closer, his expression soft as he parted his lips, as if to say something. He froze when the door opened.

The elf bowed quickly before jumping aside. A cloaked figure swept into the room, and the air, as if sensing who had arrived, seemed to have gotten colder.

"Leave us," Narcissa said to the elf, and he promptly Disapparated.

Two pale, thin hands drew forward from the cloak and reached up, lowering the hood. Cruel, black eyes met theirs.

"This," Voldemort said coldly, "had better be important."

"O-of course, my lord," Lucius bowed, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I know not to call you unless absolutely necessary."

Lucius waited, silence stretching between them.

"Well?" Voldemort hissed.

Lucius exchanged glances with Narcissa, who pressed her lips in a thin line. Lucius swallowed thickly, and said in a hushed voice, "It…it is about the diary, my lord."

The air shifted suddenly—the Malfoys could feel it. Voldemort sauntered closely to where Lucius stood, his face without expression or concern.

"What of it?" Voldemort replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me."

Lucius's hands trembled just slightly as he lifted his eyes to meet Voldemort's. They were narrowed, blank, watching him calmly. Lucius knew...Voldemort would try to enter his mind and read his thoughts, to catch if he was lying…Lucius inhaled sharply, gazing at Voldemort directly in the eye, and said, "The diary is missing, my lord."

The library was silent. Voldemort stared at him, then replied, "The diary…is missing."

"My lord."

Narcissa looked between the two men nervously. Voldemort's lip curled and his hand reached for his wand slowly, almost carelessly.

"When."

"Just now, my lord. We called as soon as we—"

"Now, let's not play games." Voldemort's high, cruel voice echoed loudly in the library as began to circle around Lucius, "you noticed it now, that I can obviously see. When did my possession go missing?"

Lucius's throat bobbed as he said quite faintly, "I…I would have to say more than a month at least, my lord."

Narcissa shrieked when Voldemort's wand slashed the air and Lucius convulsed, collapsing to the ground. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a snarl, baring his teeth as he jerked his wand away. Instantly Lucius's body went limp.

"You have failed me, in the deepest way," said Voldemort. He raised his wand higher.

"My lord, please!"

"Narcissa, no!"

Narcissa rushed forward. "Lucius took the Vow to protect your possession to the best of his ability, and he still lives," Narcissa said quickly, ignoring Lucius. "The Vow has not been broken—he has done his best. H…have mercy, my lord. The name Malfoy remains true to you."

Voldemort paused, looking at Narcissa in the faintest surprise, as if he had only just noticed she was in the room. Narcissa willed her body to remain rigid under the Dark Lord's penetrating stare.

"So it would seem."

Lucius picked himself up from the floor, pushing back his hair and keeping his eyes trained carefully to the floor. Voldemort replaced the hood back onto his head and turned to leave.

"I want to know the names of every single person to enter this house since the day that diary entered this library. Every single wretched vermin."

Kicking aside the elf, who had scrambled forward to escort him out, Voldemort disappeared.

From a distance, they heard the telling crack of Disapparation. Lucius sagged against the wall. Narcissa stared out the window, her face hidden in shadow. Lucius wiped the sweat from his brow and chanced a glance at his wife. "D…darling?" When no answer came, Lucius forced himself upright and went to her, stumbling only a little. He patted her shoulder gently. "Narcissa."

Narcissa looked up at him unsteadily. "There is a plague in our home, Lucius. And it will never rest until one of us is dead."

xxx

A cold wind was blowing outside, whistling faintly beyond the window. Hermione could see little swirls of snow gliding gently against the glass. She couldn't remember the number of times she'd done this—simply sitting by the fire on a cold night, a cup in hand while listening to distant sound of the tele. Of course it was not her father's favorite drama but James's, and the home was not quite hers, but it was close enough.

In her other hand was the wand. Harry's wand—her wand. Her thumb idly brushed the side of the wood, smooth and silent. The energy was…different somehow, compared to her old wand. Harry's wand was no more skilled or better, rather that came from the one wielding it—but something was principally different when she held this wand.

Was it because she knew this was Harry's? Was it because she knew he was no longer bound to it, bound to the fate that rested with its wandbearer?

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Hermione looked up. Sirius settled beside her on the sofa. He was holding a steaming mug with little gingerbread men adorned over it in his hand. Sirius stilled when Hermione stiffened, then shuffled a little away from her, mindful of their distance.

Hermione tried to clear her expression to something more neutral, hoping Sirius would understand she didn't mind him sitting near her. "Just appreciating the quiet," said Hermione, tucking her wand away.

"Lily called," said Sirius. "She made it home just fine."

"I'm glad," Hermione smiled. "I hope she didn't get into any trouble for staying over last night."

"I can't say," Sirius shrugged. Hermione nodded. Sirius watched her take a generous sip of tea. "You like that wand a lot, then?" Hermione looked at him in surprise, and Sirius smiled. "You've been quiet since we left Ollivander's. I can't imagine how I'd feel if mine snapped in half and needed replacing."

"It's not so bad. It was nice going to a wand shop again," said Hermione with a half-smile, but it became uncertain.

"What is it?"

Hermione peered at Sirius for a moment, as if in deep thought. "It's about the wand," she said finally. At Sirius's blank stare, Hermione sighed. "I may as well tell you. I don't see any reason you shouldn't know."

"Know what? Is something wrong with the wand?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly, a little laugh escaping her. "Nothing like that. Quite the opposite, actually." Hermione picked her wand back up and gazed at it softly, almost with reverence. "This was Harry's wand. At least, it was supposed to be Harry's wand. But it's mine now."

Sirius furrowed his brow. "Harry? The Harry?" Hermione nodded fervently. "But why? How?"

"It just happened," Hermione shrugged. "It chose me. Me. You see what this means, don't you? I'm changing things for the good. Harry's fate has changed. He's not the chosen one anymore, destined to defeat Lord Voldemort. I've spared him that."

"All that from the wand?"

Hermione clicked her tongue impatiently, turning herself so that she faced Sirius completely. "This isn't any old wand, and it wasn't coincidence that it chose Harry in 1991. The core is exactly the same as Voldemort's, making them sort of—sort of like brothers? Harry was meant to have that wand, because he was meant to face Voldemort."

"And now you have it," Sirius concluded. "So what—that makes you the new chosen one?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I think? I can't know for certain obviously, but it would only make sense. My having this wand…it has to mean that I will be the one to face Voldemort, not Harry." Hermione sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"And that prophecy we heard in the pub," Sirius's brow furrowed, as if putting pieces to a puzzle together. "D'you reckon that's got anything to do with it too?"

"It has to," said Hermione. "It's all pointing to me, isn't it? That prophecy, this wand, they were Harry's. Now they're mine."

Sirius stared into the fire, his hands wrapped tightly around the mug, and a comfortable silence passed between them. Hermione finished the last of her tea and set the cup aside. Of course this meant she would have to face Voldemort…her time of hiding in the shadows, silently killing parts of Voldemort's soul, was nearing an end…soon not even the canopy of the Potter house and the protection under Hogwarts would save her. A thrill of fear coursed through Hermione's body as she imagined Voldemort standing before her, his wand pointed at her heart, staring at her with a cold smile and shadowed, depthless eyes.

She shivered and the hairs prickled on her arms. Instinctively she folded her arms, as if shielding herself from Voldemort's gaze.

"There's a blanket in that basket by the fire, shall I get it for you?"

"No thank you," Hermione swallowed thickly. "I'll have to kill him."

Sirius looked at Hermione oddly. "Okay...but what did the blanket do to you to for it earn that death sentence?"

Hermione glared. "I'm not talking about the blanket."

"Then what?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Sirius blanched. "Voldemort? You're going to kill Voldemort?" Hermione nodded. Sirius snorted loudly.

"I'm serious," she scowled. "I'll have to do it. It'll have to be done."

"Hermione, the closest you've come to killing anything is the ingredients required for potions," Sirius shook his head, draining his mug and setting it on the floor. "Not to be unsupportive—by all means destroy the darkest wizard in history—but I just can't imagine you doing that. Damage, maybe, but killing someone is something else."

"Sirius, I'll have to," Hermione said sharply, feeling slightly offended, and the feeling grew as Sirius continued shaking his head. Why wouldn't he believe her? "He'll be the last one, the last piece of tainted soul left to destroy, or else it'll all have been for nothing. And with this wand, now, it definitely has to be me."

Sirius shook his head again, not meeting her eyes. Hermione's ire rose. "What do you want from me, Sirius? I have to be realistic here. No one else has a clue of what to do about Voldemort. I came here to this time to end things once and for all, it—it's my responsibility to see it to the end!"

"No," said Sirius. "That's where you're wrong. Your responsibility in this time is to destroy the horcruxes. That was your mission. Nobody enlisted you to defeat Voldemort himself, Hermione. That is not your responsibility."

"There is no other way; I can see that I have to—"

"You're not listening! You don't have to do anything—not about him, just those evil blasted soul pieces scattered across the world—"

"Sirius—"

"No! Don't expect me to sit here idly while you talk about killing Voldemort, as if it's something so easy and palatable. It's not. And I don't understand how you've just…just accepted this as your duty. Calling it fate."

"I never said it was easy. I don't want to do this, any of this. But I know it has to be me. I'm not going to run away from this."

"Okay. Okay, you're killing Voldemort. What will you do?" Sirius crossed his arms expectantly.

Hermione glowered. "I'll duel him."

"How? Using what spells?"

"I don't know, it depends on the situation!" Hermione said shrilly. "I can't predict the future, I've no idea how it'll go!"

"But you know enough that you'll duel him. Do you think you two will be alone? Be given some dark lord-muggleborn privacy? What if his followers are there?"

"Then I'll fight them too."

"What if there's fifty? A hundred? And all their wands are trained on your head."

"Then—then I'll Apparate out of there."

"But now you can't defeat Voldemort. So you'll presumably grab his arm and take him with you, right? He'd love an escort."

"Oh please—"

"Now it's just you and Voldemort. You barely get a spell in before he's taken your wand. Now he's bound you in ropes—silken, probably, because he may be a murderer but he's got class—and breaks that precious destiny-wand right before your eyes. And then the torture begins."

Hermione was silent, breathing hard through her nose and glaring at Sirius with hate-filled eyes. His face was impassive, and continued relentlessly.

"He'll torture you for hours. It won't be a swift death. He'll know you destroyed his horcruxes. He'll want you to taste his wrath. You'll be mad before he kills you."

"Bravo," said Hermione, her voice trembling. "No, really, that was excellent. That was an experience. Your confidence in me—inspiring. I'll remember that on my next trip when I kill another horcrux."

Sirius looked just as furious. "I hope you do. I hope you understand what you're getting yourself into."

"Why are you so angry?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "Why're you taking this so personally?"

Sirius stared at her in a way that made Hermione glance away, her heart thudding. "Each time you hunt and destroy a horcrux, it becomes more dangerous. The risk is higher. Three weeks ago we all nearly died trying to get the locket. If you face Voldemort, someone who will fight back, it's—" He closed his eyes. "Great witches and wizards have died at Voldemort's hand. I don't want you to be one of them too."

Hermione looked at him softly, feeling at a loss for words. "I won't be." Sirius shrugged. "I don't know what else to say."

Sirius shrugged again, picking at the thread of his sweater. "You don't have to say anything." He would not meet her eyes, a distant look about him. "You will do what you need to no matter what I say. It's who you are."

"You would too," Hermione said quietly. "If our roles were reversed, and you had to make this decision, you would too. You're just as stubborn as me."

A tight smile tugged at Sirius's lips. "Bloody hell. You're right."

Hermione smiled with him, yet neither quite reached their eyes.

"What're you going to do about James?"

The question came without warning, startling her. "What about James?"

"It's been a hellish few weeks," Sirius said frankly. "We were…recovering, and James took care of us without pressing on what happened. Surely you don't mean to keep him completely in the dark?"

"Have you told him anything?" Hermione asked, her voice turning sharp, though she did not mean for it.

Sirius stared back impassively.

"No. Of course not."

She released a breath she'd been holding in slowly. "Good," she muttered. "Good."

She felt his gaze on her as her mind went frantically from scenario to scenario. It was a question she had been avoiding for quite a while, one Lily had even prodded about. She knew it would be wrong of her to keep what happened from James…yet the thought of telling any more, of reliving any more, was a thought unbearable.

"I'm not saying you have to tell your whole life story," said Sirius, raising an eyebrow. "But you have to give something. It's wrong to withhold this from him."

"And what about Remus and Peter?" Hermione looked up at him, her eyes shining with turmoil. "Do you see the problem? It keeps going. The list is growing longer; another person condemned with my burden."

"Did you honestly believe you'd be able to keep this to yourself?" Sirius asked, incredulous. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm not saying you tell them you're a bloody time-traveler, just what happened in the cave! We can't avoid it, too much has changed since that day. They already know you're trying to defeat Voldemort, do they not? I don't like lying to my friends more than I am already."

Hermione looked away guiltily, feeling suddenly ill. "If they know how we're doing it, I put them in a position where it could be tortured out of them. You'll be targeted for having this knowledge. Don't you see how much safer it is if nobody else knew we were destroying horcruxes? Gods, I haven't even approachedDumbledore! Nor will I ever, if I can help it."

"Then you planned poorly the moment you came to this age," said Sirius quietly, looking grim. "We were put in danger the moment you decided to befriend us."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Not that you did anything wrong in having friends," he reassured quickly, leaning a bit closer as if it could calm her down. "You're only human. If you weren't, you'd be part of the Death Eaters, I'd reckon."

"No," Hermione said sharply. "They are just as human as us. Never forget that. They are only human too. They will live and die just as the rest of us. It's one of the things that comfort me," Hermione admitted, looking distantly at the crackling fire. "Even Voldemort is human."

They were quiet for a while, until Sirius said, "Have you decided, then?"

Hermione gazed at him, and her heart began to sink. "I don't want to, Sirius," she whispered, her voice troubled. "I really wish I did not have to."

xxx

Snow caked against the window sill in a ceaseless dance against the wind, and Regulus stared back down at his Potions essay irritably. Spots of ink blotched the margins where Regulus had carelessly spilled ink, lost in thought. Twice already he had to use the siphoning charm after knocking over the little ink pot.

He'd been straining himself to concentrate and try to get the last of his Christmas work done before term resumed, but every few minutes Regulus's ears would perk at the softest rustle, the shallowest sound in the wind, thinking them to be the sound of wings at the window or footsteps at the door. The latter was more often true.

Potter's scribbled note was now a tidy pile of ash in Regulus's fireplace, and he glanced at it with disdain. He'd been foolish to owl Regulus. It was luck that Regulus had intercepted the owl before his mother or any of the elves could get their hands on it, and immediately cast in the fire once he read the note.

What could Potter be thinking? Surely Sirius had warned him against sending owls, especially what had happened the last time an owl came for him. Surely Sirius did not want a repeat of the night he left their home.

The note did carry worry, though, and Regulus was anxious…he'd been waiting for days for an opportune moment to leave, to stop by and see Sirius…was he still asleep? Would the cursed potion stay within Sirius for the rest of his natural life? Regulus began asking Kreacher every morning how his health was, and to his relief Kreacher reported improvement by the day, though Regulus knew weakness still resided in him. Yet elfin magic was vastly different than wizard magic, and it was uncertain how Sirius would recover in comparison…

"Shall Kreacher add more wood to the fire?" Kreacher asked, suddenly appearing in the room.

Regulus looked away from the fireplace irritably. "It's fine. Sweep the ashes from the fireplace at dinner. I'll sleep easier knowing that rubble is gone forever."

"As Master wishes," Kreacher bowed deeply. His head still lowered, Kreacher continued, "Kreacher thought it prudent to inform Master Regulus that his friend from school is walking to the manor as we speak."

Regulus's elbow slipped off the desk. Jerking to the window, Regulus hissed through his teeth. "I can't see—who is it, Kreacher! Blast it all," Regulus threw open the door and bound for the stairs.

He could hear the tinkling of the old record player in the drawing room and his father's dry, wheezy cough through the walls, and knew he would be able to sneak to down the hall to the front door without detection. If it was Potter he'd strangle the idiot—but Regulus felt it could not be him, and as he cracked the door open his fears were abated.

"Damn you, Scabior, I told you I can't come out!" Regulus said harshly and allowed Scabior to rush through.

"Sod it," Scabior snapped, shivering. "Haven't heard from you for weeks, you can't blame me for checking on you! 'Specially after what happened this time last year with Sirius—"

"It's not like that," Regulus gritted his teeth. "It's not like last year at all." He noticed Scabior continued to shiver, who shrugged.

"Frostier than a snowman's bottom today?" Scabior said cheerfully, cupping his gloved hands together and blowing on them. "Look, I know your mum don't care for me much, but she can't be mad for too long. Besides, you've been stuck here for weeks."

"With good reason," Regulus scowled. "She wasn't happy you never responded to her letter asking where I was. Thanks again for covering for me," Regulus added, his glare fading briefly. "Father is still unwell, and it's improper for me to leave while he's in such a condition." Regulus muttered under his breath, "Not that I haven't tried."

Scabior nodded. "To see your brother." At Regulus's glare, Scabior added, "What? 'S the last thing you told me."

Regulus opened his mouth to respond, but stilled when he heard a noise come from the drawing room. They stood frozen in the hallway, neither daring to breathe. Only when he heard his father speaking faintly to his mother did Regulus relax. "We shouldn't talk about this here," Regulus glanced above Scabior's shoulder and motioned past him. "Follow me."

With as much stealth as two teenaged boys could muster, they trekked past the hall and to the staircase noiselessly. Regulus cast a wary glance at the drawing room. The record player was off, letting them hear the extent of Regulus's parents' voices.

"She doesn't sound too happy," Scabior muttered under his breath. Walburga's stern voice was unmistakable.

Regulus turned away. "Keep going."

They reached his bedroom and Regulus shut the door behind him quietly. Scabior wandered to the bed and collapsed down, the act coming as naturally to him as if he'd done it a hundred times before, and kicked off his boots to sit cross-legged. Regulus sat beside him, leaning against the wall wearily.

Scabior glanced at Kreacher, who was sweeping ashes from the fireplace, and nodded. "Wotcher."

Kreacher glanced at Scabior and did a small bow by custom, though he did not look happy to do so.

Scabior snorted. "Still doesn't like me."

"To be fair, he hardly likes anyone," Regulus couldn't help but smile. "He only seems to tolerate me better than the rest of my family—or humanity, for that matter."

"That's because it's you," Scabior scoffed, yawning wide. "What's not to like?"

Regulus fell silent. Scabior cleared his throat. "So, what's going on with your dad? He sick?"

Regulus shrugged half-heartedly. "Honestly? I haven't a damn clue. He's been ill and healers have come and gone without much answers."

"Reckon he's getting old," said Scabior.

"Old and senile. He called me 'Sirius' the other day. Why that old cod would care about him is beyond me."

Scabior looked at Regulus hesitantly. "Wasn't—wasn't he the one who…you know…branded him?"

Regulus looked away angrily. "I try not to think about that day. Not so soon after its anniversary."

Scabior looked at Regulus with a mixture of frustration and helplessness. "Reg, you keep staying here, you're bloody miserable. You've got to leave this shit house, damn propriety!"

"You think I haven't tried? It's not so easy, living here with this family is not easy. These last few weeks have been…"

He trailed, lost in thought. Scabior observed him wordlessly, and for a while the only sound that came was Kreacher's sweeping. "You know…you never did explain what happened the night you disappeared. Or why you were with Sirius. Frankly I'd like to know what I covered you for."

Regulus looked slowly to Scabior. "You never mentioned you taught Granger the fiendfyre counter curse."

Scabior looked taken aback. His mouth opened and closed, until settling on a simple, "What?"

"Fiendfyre. She can put it out." He stared at Scabior for a moment. "That day at Hogsmeade, when you got Granger out of the Shrieking Shack—she was the one to put out the fire, wasn't she? I always assumed it'd been you, but…"

"It was her," Scabior agreed. "I taught her the counter curse the day before."

"Why?"

Scabior shrugged. "Boredom. Curiosity. She helped with my essays and kicked Mulciber's ass once without laying a finger on him. Color me intrigued."

"And that convinced you to passed down your family legacy to her?" said Regulus, looking at Scabior with disbelief. "A muggleborn—a Gryffindor? Your family will kill you if they find out, you know."

Scabior narrowed his eyes. "My reasons are my own. What's it matter if she's muggleborn or a Gryffindor? You seem to like her enough for the both of us."

Regulus colored. "I don't fancy her, if that's what you're saying," he retorted hotly.

"Whatever. And I'm not completely daft; I did it so she'd never be able to teach someone the counter curse. You can safely untwist your knickers."

Regulus's glared at Scabior, but it faded as realization dawned on him. "Wait…seriously? A blood seal?" Scabior nodded. "Granger agreed to that?"

"Practically forced me into it," Scabior looked at Regulus rather smugly. "Even came up with the idea before I could get a word in."

Regulus paused at this. Why would Hermione suggest to use such a binding and archaic form of magic—and with Scabior, a boy whom she hardly had to have known at the time? He did not need to guess why she needed to learn the counter curse, knowing now that it was her method of destroying the horcruxes. How long had she been planning this? Was this why she'd chosen to get close to Scabior? Regulus admitted the pair never made much sense to him—not that the tentative alliance between himself and Hermione made any sense either. He never truly considered Hermione Granger a friend, more a curiosity and a means to an end—but that was before Sirius left, before Regulus bore the mark of a Death Eater…before he helped destroy the soul fragment of the same man whom he'd sworn his allegiance to.

"Look I get it," Scabior's voice snapped Regulus from his thoughts. "You don't want to talk and I'm putting you in trouble just being here. Just wanted to see how you were doing, is all." He started to get up.

"What are you talking about? Stop," Scabior had only shifted a few inches before Regulus's hand wrapped around his arm. Scabior stilled. "I'm sorry, alright? I haven't got a clue what I'm doing either so don't—don't leave just yet."

Scabior settled back on the bed, waiting.

"I don't even know where to begin," Regulus muttered, looking more miserable than Scabior had seen him in months. "But—but I feel if I don't say anything at all, I will burst in front of You-Know-Who himself and be killed on the spot." He pounded on the mattress in frustration. "These secrets! They're eating me alive like a blasted flobberworm! I hate them!"

Scabior looked alarmed. "Mate, you better tell me everything right the fuck now. You and I both know you're shit at this alone." After a second's hesitation, Scabior placed his hand over Regulus's. "You've kept this to yourself for too long. You can tell me."

And so, with some exclusions, Regulus did just that.

He spoke uninterrupted for nearly fifteen minutes. Scabior sat back, his eyes wide and jaw slackened. "Fucking. Hell."

Regulus smiled. But before he could get another word in he winced painfully, a gasp escaping him.

"What? What is it?" asked Scabior, alarmed. Regulus clutched at his forearm, and shoved back his sleeve.

The Mark was burning deep into Regulus's skin.

xxx

Several miles away at that very moment, Hermione leveled her gaze at the room full of marauders.

When she sat before James, Remus, and Peter, telling them the rehearsed tale she'd gone over with Sirius—finding artifacts that would weaken Voldemort if destroyed, and then regaling an abridged version of the events of the cave—Sirius sat beside her, a silent presence; a warmth she needed only to glance at and he would inch very slightly closer, but only just. He was mindful of their space, of the way she tensed if anyone came too close—she had explained to him again out of guilt why she did not want to be touched, at least not yet—not while the Inferi still came to her in her dreams, their cold, clammy embrace rapidly suffocating her—but he had eased her worry, and just as simply kept a mindful distance.

And now, in the wake of telling Peter, James, and Remus the half-truth she was willing to tell, he was doing it again.

Peter and Remus were first to start. Throughout Hermione's tale they were perplexed and shocked, and when she finally finished the loud words had begun.

James was marginally quieter, absorbing Hermione's words pensively, and darting glances at Sirius as if to confirm. Hermione did not miss the little nods Sirius always gave back, as if to say yes, bloody hell, but yes.

"This is madness," Peter kept shaking his head, his voice bordering hysterical, "you—you—that's dangerous—and Sirius—hurt—you can't keep—keep—keep—"

Remus rested his hand on Peter's shoulder, and took over. "I agree," he said solemnly at Hermione, whose eyes were trained on her knees. Sirius kept glancing worriedly at Hermione. "This is too dangerous. Like it or not you're just schoolkids—why not tell Dumbledore? He could take over and leave you out of it. This isn't your responsibility…and Hermione…." His tone went soft, understanding. "Look what they did to your parents. Do you—"

"Thank you for your input," Hermione said suddenly, though her tone remained even and exceedingly polite. "I've told them they don't need to involve themselves with my problems, but if they volunteer I can't stop them. Clearly I've tried. My work is my own, and I'm sorry, but it has to be done. You will not," Hermione's eyes flashed warningly at Remus, "tell Dumbledore. I won't have it. Now, I'm tired. I'll see you at dinner, if you stay that long."

Hermione stood quickly and left the room. Her feet bound up the stairs, and with each successive step her composure decayed, until she had closed the door to her room and pressed her back against it.

Sirius's eyes followed Hermione as she left, his mouth pressed in a grim line.

Remus was dismayed. "What was…that?" He glanced at James. "Was it something I said?"

"She didn't want to do this," Sirius said quietly, sighing as he glanced up at the ceiling. "It's been a difficult few weeks for her. Especially her."

"From what I just heard she's not the only one," said Remus, his voice soft but the trace of annoyance was unmistakable. "Sirius. This is madness. You don't really believe that this is—this is right, do you? Collecting objects that can weaken You-Know-Who if destroyed—I cannot honestly believe such items exist."

"Dark magic," said James. His voice was hushed, still. He had not spoken throughout Hermione's tale, but seemed to have finally found his voice. James looked at Sirius, as if trying to pry the truth from his eyes. "Old magic. All but forgotten. Only the very old, ancient families would have the faintest idea of such magic."

"Yes," said Sirius, his eyes trained carefully on James's knowing look. "The darkest magic."

James fell silent, looking visibly disturbed.

Peter spoke up hesitantly. "H-how did she even find out about these things? How does she know where they are?"

Sirius shook his head.

"She's putting herself and others in danger by pursuing this," Remus said angrily, clearly unwilling to let it go. Sirius glared at Remus.

"You haven't a clue what that girl has done for the wizarding world," said Sirius calmly, his grey eyes turning cold. "It took a lot of courage just telling you three this much, and you're throwing it back in her face! Unbelievable."

"That's not fair," said James. "We're worried. And you two—plus your brother—nearly died. I think we've got a right to care for your safety. This isn't a prank or a spat with a Slytherin; you're meddling in something you'll be murdered for."

"We're already in a war," said Sirius, and he stood abruptly. "Next year you'll be fighting it. We're old enough to know what's right. This is right."

Sirius looked at the three of them sitting on the sofa, all wearing identical looks of disbelief. As if repulsed, Sirius left the room and bound for the stairs.

He paused before Hermione's bedroom. Pursing his lips, he knocked twice.

The door swung open and Hermione's surprised face greeted him. "Sirius?"

Several emotions flitted across Sirius's face, his mouth parting with words stuck in his throat; she assumed he came to console her or vent with her, to presumably discuss what had just transpired.

But instead, all Sirius said was, "D'you want to get a motorcycle with me?"

xxx

They dressed quickly. Hermione couldn't believe she'd be witnessing this—the motorcycle! The very one she'd heard about ages ago, the one Hagrid told stories of, when he brought baby Harry to his aunt and uncle's doorstep. Hermione had never given it more thought than that, but as she pulled on her gloves and jammed a woolen hat on her head, she was brimming with excitement.

To some level Hermione knew he only invited her to make her feel better; hatched this plan in the spur-of-the-moment. Not that she minded, considering how their conversation with James, Peter, and Remus had went a half hour earlier.

Nevermind the illogicality behind their day trip—how does one even go about purchasing a motorcycle?—but for the first time in a while Hermione did not worry about the finer details. This was Sirius's day, and he was welcome to work it all out himself.

Pocketing her wand, Hermione marched to Sirius's bedroom and knocked twice. When no answer came, she knocked again, harder. "Sirius? Are you ready?"

The door opened suddenly and the blood drained from Hermione's face. "So you're not ready."

"I can't—put this—sweater on—could you help me?" Sirius wrestled with a large winter green sweater that was halfway on his shoulders, leaving the bottom half of his torso bare.

"Er…yes. Of course." Hermione grabbed the sweater off his head and straightened it, holding it out before her. Squinting, she muttered, "Are you sure it's not charmed?"

"Charmed? Why the hell would I need a charmed sweater?" Sirius groused, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I've no idea, but if you would observe…" Hermione stuck her hand through the sweater, making to extend it through the neck, but it shrunk smaller and smaller as Hermione fought to put her hand through.

Sirius's gaze darkened. "James." He snatched the sweater from Hermione and stalked back inside his room. Hermione dared only to take a step in. "He gave this last Christmas—I see now why he wanted me to wear it in front of him. A prank sweater."

"Be grateful it doesn't shrink while your head is actually through it," said Hermione loftily. Sirius gave a sour look as he shoved on a black sweater instead and dressed quickly.

"Let's go," Sirius ushered her to the door and closed it behind him. They stood in the hallway for a moment as Sirius put on his gloves, his fingers flexing through the fabric. Hermione looked away again, not knowing why she had to, but didn't really want to question the instinct.

James was sitting with textbook on his lap when they came downstairs. He looked up, his eyes flickering to their changed clothing. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, we're gonna poke about a few shops for a bit. Did they leave?" Sirius glanced where Remus and Peter had sat.

James nodded. "They'll be back for dinner, though."

"You want to come with us?" Sirius asked, glancing at Hermione as if in question. Hermione shrugged. "It's for the bike."

James's eyes sparked with excitement. "Did you pick one out already?"

Sirius pressed his lips together, as if unsure. "Eh…I'm going with the second idea."

Just as quickly the excitement in James's eyes dimmed, and Hermione became greatly curious at what the second idea could possibly be when James returned to his book with disinterest. "I think I'll skip, then. You two have fun."

Sirius shrugged. "Suit yourself. The fireplace, Hermione."

"Oh," said, Hermione, surprised, and went to take a handful of Floo powder off the mantle. "Where're we going? I could Apparate us there if you like?"

"Nah, it's better to go this way. You'll see. Diagon Alley, if you please."

Nodding, Hermione cast the powder into the fire and was transported to a large dusty grate. Before her was the Leaky Cauldron's brick entrance, though it was sealed at the moment. She heard the sound of a distantly roaring fire and quickly Hermione stepped out of the grate, just barely missing a clash with Sirius's body. They dusted themselves off quickly and Sirius took out his wand, heading for the brick wall.

"But that's to muggle London," Hermione protested. Sirius flashed wry smile.

"And so it is we go," he replied easily, and started to tap the bricks.

Hermione scrunched her nose as the loud bar music blared in her ears. The dim lighting of the Leaky Cauldron always bothered her, and her eyes had to adjust to the change while Sirius maneuvered them to the exit.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Hermione asked irritably, rubbing her eyes as they made yet another turn down an alley.

"Not the foggiest," said Sirius cheerfully, but he cleared his throat at Hermione's dark stare. "Yeah, I've got an idea. It's not—not conventional, but I'm hoping I'll come across it…took me ages trying to find a good muggle paper with these types of shops in their listing…"

Hermione's curiosity—and dismay—only increased further as they veered away from the busy parts of town. They now walked on a desolate street, this part of London looking weary and weather-worn, and the sidewalks less polished. Sirius's pace grew faster and Hermione tried to keep up with him. They were getting closer.

Sirius gave a low grunt and slowed a bit, grimacing. Hermione touched his arm worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," said Sirius. The frown did not go away. "Just walked a bit too fast there."

"You're still healing," Hermione murmured. Sirius shrugged, and reluctantly Hermione let it drop.

After several more minutes of walking in silence, Sirius came to a stop.

"There it is," Sirius pointed with a relieved smile. "Oh, it's a beauty."

Hermione glanced at Sirius, deadpanned. "It's a junk shop."

"It's a bargain!" a man came out of a large garage, his arms spread open in greeting. "Are you the lad I spoke with over the phone a few days ago asking for parts?"

"That's me," Sirius smiled serenely, holding out his hand. The man shook it vigorously.

"Excellent, excellent. Well have a look around, don't just stand there! We've got handles, exhaust pipes, brakes, gear shifts, even some vintage pieces stashed in the back if I remember…."

"You have the Norton models I asked after?" Sirius asked, not looking away from a sign that was propped up next to the garage.

"Y…yes, but they're quite a bit older…young man like yourself would probably prefer our newer additions—"

"Let's have a look the Nortons, then," Sirius looked up, smiling kindly. The man's grin shrank a few molars, but he inclined his head graciously and gestured them to follow. Hermione exchanged a wary glance with Sirius, who seemed infuriatingly unfazed.

He brought them to a smaller garage. The pavement was riddled with cracks and fissures, and against a crumbling wall were several motorcycles—at least, they once were motorcycles. What stood before them now were the bare skeletal remains of a possible, plausible machine. Nearly all of them did not have tires—they didn't have much of anything, frankly—but Sirius seemed to take this in stride and was beaming at the paltry collection.

"Brilliant," Sirius looked elatedly at Hermione, grinning so earnestly that Hermione fought the urge to laugh. "Gods, how will I get through all of these before dark?"

"I wonder how we'll manage," Hermione said vaguely, thinking of James again. She needed to start crediting his wisdom…

"I have customers to attend to now. If you need anything just shout for Calimocho and I'll be back, quick as lightning!" Sirius and Hermione nodded, and the man—Calimocho, apparently—left the small garage. Sirius glanced at Hermione, biting his lower lip.

"Would you mind helping me?"

"Of course!" Hermione rolled up her coat sleeves as far as they would go, wringing out her fingers. "Just tell me what you need."

Sirius's eyes lighted, and she could feel his eagerness as if it were a tangible energy, and all she'd need to do was stretch her fingers and twine them through it.

"Well," he patted his hands on the front of his jeans, trying to gather his thoughts. He glanced about the bikes. "Well, we're looking for something sturdy. It doesn't so much matter how little parts are on it or how old they are. If they're not rusted, if they seem like they can handle themselves, they're good enough."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, looking at the row of bikes in a new light. "Sounds simple enough."

Sirius nodded. "Right. Sadly we won't be able to gather everything we need today, but it's a start."

"I was just wondering, why are you building the motorcycle on your own?" asked Hermione, unable to hide her curiosity any longer. "You were looking through those magazines before, I remember. Weren't any of those good?"

A secretive smile crept on Sirius's face. "Oh, they were," he replied slyly. "But there are benefits in building some things on your own rather than purchase what's in stock. For instance," Sirius gestured at the bikes. "This'll be a hell of a lot cheaper."

"Right," Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Let's get to it, then."

For the next hour they sorted through the motorcycles bits. It was marginally more difficult as they could not use magic, especially since the shop owner kept popping in to check on them, but it did not bother Hermione all that much. She could tell Sirius was struggling however; he was badly out of breath and kept stopping to lean against the wall, ducking his head. Hermione could tell he wasn't fully healed yet, but Sirius seemed incapable of giving his body any more rest. If he felt poorly, he never said a word of complaint.

She wiped the beads of sweat on her forehead away with the back of her sleeve and hauled another bike piece away from the row against the wall, grunting with the effort. Stepping back, she inspected it with a frown and compared it to the discarded pieces.

"Anything yet?" Sirius called. Hermione said nothing as she stared down at the bike. She felt the air shift around her and Sirius was now by her side, peering down at the bike with her.

"Blimey," was all he said.

"That's what I was thinking too," Hermione nodded.

Sirius let out a huff. "I found two potential ones but compared to this…"

Hermione looked over to where Sirius had been working and saw the two he'd picked out.

"Those two aren't bad," she said hesitantly.

Sirius glanced at her. Quietly, he replied, "Which do you like best?"

Hermione glanced up at him and bit her lip, looking at the bikes seriously. She then looked at him, smiling hopefully.

Something in Sirius's eyes softened. "My new motorcycle."

xxx

James stared at them blankly. They were out of breath and covered with dirt, sharing identical broad grins.

"Dad will most definitely kick your arse if you ever bring this stuff into the house."

"What do you think?" said Hermione. Sirius snorted next to her and she grinned even wider until her cheeks started to hurt.

"You're both mad. I want the first ride when it's done."

"Sorry mate," Sirius shook his head, slinging his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "That's reserved for her. Since she came with me, she's got first priority."

James made a face. "I need to Floo Peter and Remus. They need to see this."

xxx

The holidays were nearing an end and Charlus and Dorea were still not back. Hermione began asking James several times a day whether they had owled or mentioned when they would come home, but James pressed his lips and shook his head each time.

Hermione could tell he was even more worried than she was. Why had they disappeared so suddenly, without explanation? It was unlike them…it had to be something of great importance for them to be away for so long…

"My hand's cramping again, shit," Sirius muttered next to her. Hermione glanced at him and saw him clenching his hand, putting down the socket wrench he'd been using just moments ago.

"I told you not to overwork it," Hermione scowled. "You've been at this for hours and hours each day. There's no hurry."

"I can't focus on anything else until it's done," Sirius said grimly. "I'm sorry, I can't help it."

Hermione sighed. "Get those wrappings from the kit and tie it around your hand. I'll finish the rest of this part and then we're taking a break."

Sirius nodded gratefully and stood. Hermione slipped off the stool she'd been sitting on and took Sirius's place, kneeling on the pavement and picking up the wrench. It was easy enough to follow, and both Sirius and Hermione were relatively new to building mechanical parts, so for the last few days they'd thrown themselves into building the bike from the ground up. Hermione liked the challenge and welcomed the distraction—she ignored Sirius's protests that she didn't need to help him, saying she had nothing else to do anyway. Gritting her teeth, Hermione began her work.

"I never thought how useful a garage would be until now," Sirius noted idly as he plopped himself onto the stool. "Feels a bit weird doing this in the backyard."

"Be grateful we're not doing it in front of the house anymore," Hermione grunted as she yanked down on the wrench until it turned no more. "The stares we got, you'd think we were building some sort of weapon!"

"Right?" Sirius's lip curled distastefully. "Our folk need to get out more, honestly."

"They do. Okay so the enchantments now, right?"

"Right," Sirius jumped to his feet and took out his wand. Hermione held out her hand.

"I can do it, don't worry," Hermione gave a look. Sirius blinked.

"It's alright, Hermione. I feel bad as it is for making you do my work."

"Sirius."

Sirius grimaced, then put his wand away. "Fine." Hermione smiled triumphantly and raised her wand. "Three times, remember."

"I remember," Hermione reassured, then focused back on the motorcycle. She pointed her wand steadily. "Potestas. Potestas. Potestas."

Three golden threads swirled from the tip of Hermione's wand and slithered around the motorcycle. The light spread, glittering gold until it encompassed the bike entirely. It blazed for a moment, then disappeared.

Hermione put away her wand, looking proud. "See? I am perfectly capable—"

They both froze. A loud noise was coming from inside the house.

Hermione looked to Sirius. "The Potters?" Sirius suggested. Without wasting any time, they bolted inside the house.

The foyer was empty, as were the rooms on the first floor. Puzzled, they followed the sound as it came and went, until the sound was clearer and distinctively familiar…they went back into the parlor and paused, waiting.

"Here!"

Hermione jolted. "The fireplace. It came from the fireplace," Hermione and Sirius rushed towards it. A head was bobbing in the flames frantically.

"Regulus!" Sirius exclaimed. "What're you—"

"He knows!" Regulus shouted, glancing behind him as if someone were watching him. "He knows! He called a meeting—he knows! You're not safe, don't do anything more—he—" His head disappeared briefly. Hermione's heart thudded wildly, and glanced at Sirius. Fear rippled through her and she felt like any minute she would vomit.

Regulus's head appeared again. "Let me through," he said urgently. "Unseal it so I can get through, I can get away for a few minutes—"

"I-I don't know how!" said Sirius, looking at the fireplace frustratedly. "Hermione do you—?"

Hermione shook her head helplessly. Regulus began shouting again.

"Let me through! My side's open, I just need to get in—"

"I can go to you," Sirius realized. "Our side is one-way, so we can go but you can't come in. If your fireplace is open I can get to you."

Regulus's head disappeared suddenly. Sirius grabbed a fistful of Floo powder off the mantle and stepped to the grate. Hermione caught his arm.

"Sirius, no! You can't go there, it's not safe!"

"I have to. Didn't you hear what he said? I have to know—I'll just be a minute."

"He's gone, Sirius! He didn't say if it was okay or not, for all you know this could be a trap. Just wait. You're not thinking clearly."

Sirius was already shaking his head hard. "I'm sorry." Throwing the powder in the fireplace, Sirius shouted, "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

Sirius spun around in the fireplace until he landed hard, his knees giving way. Coughing, Sirius stumbled to his feet and stepped out of the grating. It was only too familiar to him—he was in the Black library.

"Ahem."

Sirius stiffened. Turning slowly, Sirius felt the blood drain from his face.

"Mother."

 

Notes:

Hello! I realize it’s been ages, and I’m sorry. Hopefully this update makes it a little better. I suppose this obliterates my hopes of completing this fanfic by January, so now I’ll just say it’ll be finished whenever it can be finished, though not very much is left if that’s any consolation.

I don’t have much to comment on for this chapter just yet. I hope you liked it! It was rewritten about four times and heavily edited, so that’s partly why it takes so long getting these chapters out.

A massive thanks to hinatas for being such an incredible beta. Her quick wit, good eye, and relentless encouragement make this fic what it is today.

As always, thank you for reading and giving this fic a chance! Please let me know what you thought, I read and respond to each one!

Until chapter 24 xx

Chapter 24: Nothing to Fear (But Fear Itself)

Notes:

AN: Hello, everyone. *waves* So, it's been a really long time.

Three years, actually. It's taken me a while to get my muse back here, but I'm back. For good. In these three years I've read every single review, good and bad, long and short. Every single one. You guys are incredible in your support and love, and it was such a strong component of what brought me back. I promised you my hiatus wasn't forever. This is me making good. x

One thing I absolutely had to do before posting this chapter was edit the first 13 chapters. It just had to be done. I wasn't happy with it, because it didn't reflect the kind of writer I am today. They have been heavily and thoroughly edited, but the overarching plot has NOT changed. Everything there is the same. What has changed is some character voices/choices, gratuitous wordy nonsense, and making a more cohesive fic. It is by no means perfect. But it's a start.

Since it's been a while, here's a brief summary of the story so far: Hermione has traveled back in time to 1975 using the Sands of Destiny time-turner in order to destroy the horcruxes early on. She befriends the Marauders, Lily, and some Slytherins (Severus, Regulus, and Scabior) along the way who are now helping her in her fight. Lily, Sirius, and Severus know she is a time-traveler. They have successfully destroyed the diary, the diadem, the ring, and the locket using Fiendfyre. Their most recent horcrux, the locket in the cave (recall: Half-Blood Prince canon) was destroyed by Hermione, Sirius, and Regulus. It was extremely dangerous and instilled trauma in them, more heavily in Hermione. In addition, Hermione's wand was snapped by the Inferi; her new wand from Ollivander's is the one Harry Potter originally owned, indicating that Hermione has succeeded in changing fate's design, and that the burden that would have been Harry's is now hers.

This is currently unbeta'd, but will be very shortly! All mistakes are my own.

This chapter is dedicated to trevor-the-toad, formerly on tumblr. They really helped pull me out of my head with their encouragement and kind messages, and had made a beautiful gifset for this fic that was so inspiring and beautiful. I wish it hadn't taken me this long to complete my project with Sands. They've since deleted their account on tumblr-but if you're reading this, darling, this one's for you. Thank you.

Enjoy, lovely friends. Happy Halloween. x

 

Chapter 24

Nothing to Fear (But Fear Itself)

As Sirius disappeared in a burst of green flames, Hermione lunged forward, hands grappling with empty air. He was gone.

Her eyes flickered to the Floo powder pot. Her hand twitched, as if making to reach for it, but she curled in her fingers. Going in after Sirius would be murder—likely hers.

Desperately, Hermione clutched her hair and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find a way out of this, to bring Sirius back, to keep him safe, but she knew. She knew better.

She jumped when a floating head popped suddenly out of the fireplace. "Hermione?"

If Regulus were corporeal she would have grabbed him by the collar; instead she clutched the mantelpiece and bent her head down to see him better.

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded. "Regulus, where in God's name is he? Tell me he's safe."

"Who?" Hermione stared at him, eyes wide. Regulus, sensing her fear, glanced over her shoulder. "Where's Sirius?"

"He went after you." Hermione gritted her teeth. "Get. Him. Back."

The flames of Regulus's face paled. "Shit! Why the hell would he do that?"

"Did you expect him to stand by after leaving the way you did?" Hermione snapped. "This is equally your fault!"

"I didn't…"

What other fireplaces are open?"

"Just—just my bedroom," Regulus replied, a look of horror firmly settling over him. "The library. Everything goes automatically to the library."

"Go," Hermione said sharply. "Get him back here, we'll see to the rest later."

Without another word, the flames extinguished.

Hermione stood for a few minutes, staring through the ashes of the fireplace until her eyes grew vacant. Turning on her heel, Hermione left the parlor and returned to the backyard.

Scraps and tools were scattered across the deadened grass. Hermione shivered as she began picking them up, setting them inside an old box. For the first time, her mind had gone silent. Her hands moved mechanically as she cleaned the yard until it was sorted and her hands had nothing left to do.

She walked back inside the house and crossed her arms, shivering. She didn't want to think but the thoughts came nonetheless—why, why was Sirius so brash? How could it possibly be a good idea to Floo to a home that had tormented him?

Yet beyond her worry for Sirius, it was Regulus's urgent words that whispered to her, a new fear blooming inside her chest. He knows…he knows…Hermione's heart thudded, and terror like she'd never known before crept inside her, spreading like flame across fuel, burning through her thoughts.

He knows.

She glanced in the direction of the stairs. James. Merlin, she'd forgotten. She needed to tell James.

A loud clamor came from the hall, like the bursting of wood. Hermione stopped, her breath catching. A wild image of Voldemort sauntering into the parlor flashed in her mind, and Hermione whipped out her wand. She held it up and crept slowly to the wall, her back pressing against it as she cast a furtive glance out the archway.

He knows, he knows, he's come for you, he's found you out.

The sound came again. He knows. Hermione gritted her teeth. No, that was impossible. Voldemort being here was impossible. She was being irrational.

He knows. Hermione gripped her wand tightly. The wards—there were wards, he couldn't have come in—there were wards around the Potter house, he couldn't—he couldn't possibly—he could have come in.

"This is irrational," Hermione ground out, but it didn't stop the tremor in her hands.

She hadn't been careful, she hadn't thought it through—the months wasted on self-pity now weighed down on her—why hadn't she been stronger, why didn't she find the horcruxes faster?

Sirius was caught—he had to be. He must've walked right into a Death Eater meeting. He was dead, likely… Regulus, dead…James would be dead, after they killed Hermione. She'd never see Lily again.

She was shaking all over. It was energy, waiting to burst from her fingertips. A shadow passed over her eyes, and her muscles briefly loosened.

You know the spells, her mind supplied, bringing flashes of texts and burnt parchment, written in the old tongues…the months she spent reading on Dark Magic…she remembered the thrill in her veins when she destroyed the horcrux ring.

Hermione walked out of the parlor, her wand raised. The hall was dim, and the sound came again—from the foyer, she guessed, and her brow furrowed—the closer she crept the more she heard, sounding something like voices…

The front door was wide open and several suitcases were clattered onto the floor, and in the center of them was Charlus, who was kneeling down by a suitcase that had burst open. He looked up when Hermione's shadow fell over him, and he smiled.

"Suitcases, honestly!" He glanced at Hermione's wand, which still pointed at him, and frowned. "Hermione dear?"

Dorea stepped in the doorway, carrying a large bag. She paused when she saw the wand. "Hermione?"

xxx

"You dare," Walburga said crisply, her voice no higher than a whisper, "enter this house?"

The irony was not lost to Sirius that he had, in the year since The Incident, dreamt of this moment. The moment when he would not only see his mother's face again but be in his house as well—though in dreams he was usually holding his wand, and his mother was not quite so close.

This was no dream. His mother stared back at him and he could hear a grandfather clock tick from the corner of the room, each thrum a reminder that Sirius was running out of time. His mind ran in desperate circles trying to find a way out of this, but all his cleverness now abandoned him.

Where is Regulus? Sirius glanced furtively behind his Walburga's shoulder, seeing only an empty corridor beyond the door. Why was he in the library, and not Regulus's room?

I should have said to go to Regulus's room, Sirius cursed inwardly. But it was done. And now he had to think. Hermione's warning rang in his mind and he promised himself to listen to her more often, if he got out of this.

"Well?"

Sirius said nothing. What could he say? How could he explain this? He couldn't tell the truth—he couldn't lay the blame on his brother either—Sirius clenched his fingers into fists in frustration. Walburga's eyes flickered down, noting the movement.

The door was open behind Walburga, and Sirius saw a shadow pass. His heart soared upon seeing Regulus; their eyes locked and Regulus stopped dead, his chest heaving as if he'd been running.

Sirius's eyes lingered a second too long on him. Walburga narrowed her eyes and turned her head.

"Come here, Regulus. Lock the door."

He watched Regulus's throat bob as he walked slowly inside. The door closed with a soft click.

Walburga turned back to Sirius. "Explain yourself. Now."

Regulus's lips moved silently. Sirius tried not to look at him directly so Walburga would not glance behind to catch the act, but it made it harder for him to make out Regulus's words. Regulus glanced nervously at Walburga before looking back at Sirius, mouthing the words that Sirius just managed to make out—father.

"Father," said Sirius.

Walburga inhaled sharply. Ah. He was on the right path.

For a long moment there was silence. Then, "You know."

Regulus nodded imperceptibly.

"Yes," said Sirius firmly. "It's why I've come back." He fought against a grimace and the rush of bile that threatened to rise in his throat. "For him."

"You were banished," said Walburga coldly. "You've no right to enter this house."

"Yet here I am," said Sirius, unable to stop the hint of sarcasm from leaking into his voice. Walburga stiffened. "I'm still a Black. The wards can't stop me from entering. Suppose our ancestors never thought their noble line would foster blood traitors."

"Wretch!" Walburga shrieked, her control snapped. "Traitor! You ruined us all! You left—"

"I was cut up and thrown out," said Sirius heatedly. "Did you really expect any different from me?"

He was making the words up as he went and was in sincere shock it was working so well. Regulus looked as if suffering from a hernia, but a question crept in Sirius's mind—what did happen to Father?

Walburga slipped a stray strand of hair behind her ear, pursing her lips in a mock show of composure. "Who told you about your father?"

Sirius paused. He chanced to glance at Regulus but his expression was closed off, and Sirius knew no more help could come from him. If he told it was Regulus then the repercussions would be terrible—especially after what he'd just told Sirius and Hermione—a sudden panicked thought came to Sirius's mind that Hermione would attempt to cross through the fireplace as well, if only to drag Sirius back. He prayed silently that she stayed in Godric's Hollow.

He lowered his eyes briefly, thinking hard. Where would anyone hear about the family matters of noble families?

An idea sprang in his mind.

"I may not live here anymore, but one does still hear the gossip," Sirius replied carefully. "The whispers among certain circles in Diagon Alley, for one."

It was enough. Walburga's expression soured and she hissed under her breath, "Those twits!" She turned her murderous gaze back to Sirius. "So, what, then? Have you come to gloat? To stand over your father's bed and watch until he dies?"

Sirius went still. "He's dying?"

Walburga gave a sharp laugh. "Don't act like you didn't know. As if you care." Sirius said nothing. Walburga eyed him warily. "Why are you here, Sirius?"

Sirius gazed at Walburga, a strange look in his eye. "Huh."

"What?" Walburga snapped.

"You haven't called me that in a long time," Sirius remarked quietly. "My name."

Something flickered in Walburga's gaze. "Your father is resting downstairs. I can't say he'll be pleased to see you," she sniffed. "But I will grant you one visit. Then you must leave and never return."

A thread of anger and vulnerability entered Sirius's stare. "Are you really so cold-hearted, Mum? Do you hate me so much?"

"You turned you back on your family," said Walburga unevenly, composure cracking around the edges. "You made us look weak. If not for Regulus we'd be ashes by now."

Sirius regarded her shrewdly. "You're afraid, aren't you."

Walburga blanched. Blinking severely, she replied in a crisp tone. "Have your visit and get out. I will not be so generous again."

She whirled on her heel and stormed out of the library, nearly knocking into Regulus. After a cautious pause, Regulus strode toward Sirius and roughly shoved his shoulder.

"Have you gone completely sack of hammers? What are you doing here?" Regulus hissed harshly.

"What am I doing here? You told us Voldemort found us out. You were in trouble!" Sirius flicked Regulus on the forehead. "I came after you, you bleeding git."

Regulus rubbed his forehead with a gimlet glare. "Fine. I just wanted to warn you in case you had any plans to…look for things again. Don't. You need to hold off for a while."

Sirius shook his head. "What happened? How do you know this?"

Regulus glanced warily at the door. Quickly pushing it shut, Regulus continued. "The Mark appeared on my arm, burning. You-Know-Who summoned us. Everyone was there."

"Snape?"

Regulus nodded. "Everyone. Bellatrix came to Apparate me there. There're so many, Sirius. So many of his followers. How the hell are we going to pull this off?"

"You let me worry about that," Sirius said firmly. He gripped Regulus on the shoulder. "What happened at the meeting?"

Regulus's throat bobbed, a shiver of fear clouding his gaze. "He was very angry. He knows the diary was stolen."

"Shit." Sirius swore under his breath. "Did he suspect the Death Eaters had something to do with it? Do you think…will he check the others if they're still there?"

Regulus looked grim. "I don't think so. But honestly it's…an eventuality."

"But did he suspect anyone?" Sirius repeated.

Regulus frowned, thinking. "He pulled Bellatrix aside for a long time. Thought she might've had something to do with it. Lucius too. He looked like a dead man walking."

Sirius's brow furrowed in thought. "I don't think it's that simple. The diary was in Malfoy's home, right?" Regulus nodded. "Voldemort entrusted it with him, then. Which means Bella…"

"Has a horcrux," Regulus finished, eyes widening. "But where?"

"That's what we're gonna find out." Sirius glanced at the door with a grim look. "First, I've a bastard of a father to see."

Regulus nodded. "You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"About Mum," said Regulus. "She's not just afraid. She's terrified."

xxx

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked, realizing her wand was still pointed at Charlus. Quickly, she dropped her arm. "Sorry," said Hermione faintly. She stuffed the wand away, forcing a bright smile. "You're back!"

She heard heavy steps pounding down the staircase, and James jilted to a stop. His glasses were askew and his hair stuck out in each direction, looking even wilder than usual. Beaming, he exclaimed, "You're here!" James hugged his mother tightly. "Thank Merlin. I wrote you so many times but never got an answer."

"It was difficult," Dorea held him tightly, but released him reluctantly. "We did what we could, given the circumstance."

"Which was what?" James asked. He glanced at Charlus. "What made you leave so suddenly? I was starting to think the worst."

They were interrupted by a sound from the parlor. Sirius sauntered out, tucking something in his pocket. "Finally!" Sirius smiled broadly at Charlus and Dorea and hugged them both. "We started thinking something had happened!"

Hermione stared at him, dumbstruck. When had he come back? She didn't hear the fireplace go off, but it could have been easily missed with the commotion. Sirius would not meet her eyes and it made her narrow hers, glancing down his body to see if he was hurt, but found nothing.

"This is difficult to explain," Charlus began, glancing at Dorea. "There is much we cannot tell you. It's ministry business, you see."

"Does it even matter anymore, Charlus?" said Dorea irately, looking more peeved than Hermione had ever seen her to be. Charlus sighed.

"Is it about You-Know-Who?" asked James.

"Something far more nefarious," Dorea sniffed. "Politicians."

Charlus heaved another sigh, motioning them to sit in the parlor. Sirius settled next to her with James to his right, looking expectantly at the Potters. Hermione glanced at Sirius again, but his eyes stared steadfastly ahead. Hermione turned away.

"An international conference was convened in Bucharest," said Charlus finally. "The Center of Magical Disease Control alerted a Level Three outbreak of dragon pox that is spreading quickly across Europe. Romania, as you know, is a hotbed of magical activity—the number of dragons and other magical creatures is beyond count. Seems that this particular case of dragon pox was resisting the known methods of treatment…naturally, many became frightened. Muggles were catching it too and fell fatally ill. The mess that it's started…"

"The muggle community had to be notified," said Dorea. "Prime ministers, presidents, monarchs. They were very unhappy and seemed to be under the impression that we caused the outbreak on purpose."

"Bollocks," Sirius snapped.

"But how could it be transmitted to muggles?" James frowned. "Our community is mostly in isolation, right? Even the magical creatures, it's all hidden. Or protected, at least, so muggles don't accidentally wander across a field of Hungarian Horntails."

Charlus nodded. "Just so. Yet I was summoned to attend the conference, and for twelve hours each day I sat with wizards and witches from all corners of the world. They all, to some degree, seemed to fixate on one fact." Charlus curled his lip, looking disgusted. "The first known case of this abnormal strain of pox was a muggleborn."

Hermione stomach dropped, anger curling inside her. "So because a muggleborn had it, and they were in contact with muggles, it's spreading across the muggle and wizarding world. Surely this must've happened before? Muggleborns have existed for a very long time!"

"Well sure," Charlus agreed, "can't hide everything from muggles. There's no way they won't be affected some way by our community. But things are changing. You must've seen what's been happening out there…murders, fear-mongering against muggles or anyone who's not a Pureblood. All of it—it's led us to this event."

"What happened, Mr. Potter?" Sirius pressed.

Charlus sighed, taking a cloth from his pocket and wiping his brow. "There have been discussions of restricting muggleborn access to wizarding society."

"What?" Hermione said incredulously.

"There have been discussions to create manifests of blood purity or mixed heritage, to track those with mixed lineage or from muggle families—to force them to carry identification."

"This is illegal," Hermione said flatly. "It's against every law. You can't—this will deepen the divide that's already in the wizarding world! To enforce carrying identification of blood status, this—this is history repeating itself!"

"What would forcing them to carry muggleborn IDs solve?" said Sirius, brows knitted together.

"I can't believe this," James said quietly. "This was an international conference. An international conference said this." He smiled bitterly. "This is exactly what You-Know-Who wants. He started it years ago. Whispers, acts of violence. It's spreading. And now, at a critical point in our history, the true colors of our kind are coming out."

Hermione shook her head. "It's starting."

James and Sirius exchanged ominous looks. Charlus sighed. "It's been a long journey. Don't lose hope yet, children. There are witches and wizards opposed to this. Good always outweighs bad—always."

With that Charlus and Dorea retired to their room, Hermione whirled on Sirius.

"Are you okay? What happened? Did you get caught? Did they hurt you?"

"Yes, a lot, yes, and no," Sirius replied, somewhat amused at Hermione's fervor.

James frowned. "What happened to Sirius?"

Hermione threw Sirius a glare. "While you were upstairs, Regulus showed up in the fireplace saying Voldemort knew about the horcrux, and Sirius jumped in after him to Grimmauld Place."

James's eyes rounded. "Are you mental?"

"I thought Voldemort was about to off my brother," Sirius scowled. "Of course I went."

"But to Grimmauld Place? Did your mum hex you?"

"No. Not that she didn't want to," Sirius said darkly. His gaze fell to his lap. "Seeing the house and my parents was harder than I thought it'd be."

"How did you get away though? And what about Regulus's warning?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Sirius's expression turned serious. "Voldemort called an emergency meeting. He knows the diary is gone from Malfoy manor."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Oh god."

Sirius nodded. "Reggie wanted to warn us not to pursue the horcruxes for a while. It's too dangerous with Voldemort on high alert."

Hermione swallowed thickly. "You don't think he knows about the others already, do you?"

"No, not yet. He was intent on the diary. And another thing," Sirius leaned forward, lowering his voice. "We think we know who has the last horcrux."

"Who?" James asked.

"Bellatrix."

James's eyes rounded. "Hoooo no. No, no."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked, a thrill running through her despite the fear in her heart.

"Regulus saw Lucius and Bellatrix pulled to the side during the meeting by Voldemort himself. Since Lucius was responsible for the diary—"

"—Bellatrix would be responsible for the cup," Hermione realized. "Oh my god. You two are brilliant. We have somewhere to start! The last horcrux, Sirius," Hermione beamed at him, reaching for his hand. Sirius held her hand tightly and grinned back.

"Hello? Are we all going to ignore that the horcrux is with Bellatrix? Bellatrix?" James was aghast. "She's a raging nightmare."

"Believe me, I know," Hermione replied, eyes flickering at Sirius. She'd never forget the desolation in Harry's voice when Bellatrix had killed Sirius in her time.

Sirius huffed. "Mate, after drinking a vat of poison for the last horcrux, nabbing one from Bellatrix sounds like peaches and gravy."

Hermione took a calming breath. "Okay. This is not as terrible as it could be. We're still okay. The only thing to fear is Voldemort…who we were already afraid of, so it's fine. We're going to be okay."

"You're damn right we're going to be okay," said Sirius firmly. James looked skeptical, but nodded.

"Right. Well, I'm knackered." James stood and brushed his clothes. "I'll see you in the morning. Don't go jumping in the fireplace again."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"We should head up too. The Potters are already asleep, likely," said Hermione.

Together the three tiredly trudged upstairs, yawning. After bidding James a quiet goodnight, Hermione paused at Sirius's door. "Are you really sure you're okay?" Hermione asked in a soft voice.

A smile twitched the corners of Sirius's mouth. "I'm sure."

"They didn't hurt you again?"

"They didn't hurt me again."

Hermione nodded, taking in his calm expression, the way his eyes reflected in the dim light. "I was really worried." She blinked quickly, glancing down at her feet. "Really worried."

"Hermione." Sirius bent his head a bit, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I'm okay. I swear. If it makes you feel better, while I was there I promised myself I'd listen to your advice more often." His nose wrinkled distastefully. "I had to shake my grizzly old father's hand. It was the worst."

Hermione choked out a laugh, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She was ready for that sort of thing after all. 

xxx

Hermione was trying very, very, very hard to concentrate.

Crunch.

"Concentrate," Sirius reprimanded.

Hermione bit back a reply and refocused, centering herself. She could feel the energy flowing through her. It was very particular. She just had to focus on it, and…

Crunch.

"For Merlin's sake, stop eating!" Hermione snapped open her eyes and glared at James. "I can't think when you're doing that."

"Oi, loud mouth—snack somewhere else," Sirius growled at James, and James held up his hands.

"Sorry, sorry! I'll stop." James carefully set down the apple on Sirius's nightstand.

"She's trying to concentrate, mate."

"I know, sorry."

"Thank you." Sirius turned to Hermione, nodding. "Try again."

They were all in Sirius's bedroom; Hermione sitting cross-legged on his bed, Sirius leaning against the wall across from her, and James on the floor. It was the last day before they had to return to Hogwarts and Sirius had been adamant that Hermione continue trying to transform into an Animagus form.

She didn't know why this wasn't coming so easily to her. It was taking absurdly long; she was sure that by now James, Peter, and Sirius had successfully transformed into their animal forms. Sirius and James kept reassuring her that she was at a perfectly normal pace, and that it was different for everybody. Some people took years to master it. Hermione tried not to think about how she might not have that kind of time.

After ten minutes, Hermione sighed and reopened her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just not working."

"Maybe a change of scenery?" James suggested. "We could sit go out in the yard a bit. Sirius could work on his motorbike."

"Good idea," Sirius agreed, pushing off the wall. "What do you think, Hermione?"

She sighed again, defeat in her tone. "Yeah, why not. It can't get worse. Maybe the bitter cold will help."

"That's the spirit," James said cheerfully.

Wrapping up in warmer clothes, the trio stepped into the backyard and Hermione cast a quick warming spell around them so they could sit comfortably. Sirius immediately began pulling open his toolbox and James withdrew a book, settling on the back porch steps.

"Don't think about anything else. Let your mind wander where it wants," said Sirius, and Hermione nodded. Without another word, she closed her eyes and started again.

Gentle wind swept across the yard every so often, sending dead leaves rustling. Here and there she heard Sirius use a tool or mutter a curse under his breath. James flipped a page every few minutes. It was soft and serene and the barest hint of cold nipped against her fingertips. Hermione exhaled slowly.

She felt that pull again, the indescribable feeling that something beyond her was hovering at a precipice, waiting to consume. It made her mind want to recoil instinctively. "Sirius," she said, not opening her eyes.

"Mm?"

"Is this normal? Feeling this…I don't even know how to describe it." The sensation grew stronger, until it flushed through her with a blazing warmth that nearly stole her breath.

Nervous and overwhelmed, Hermione opened her eyes and blurted, "I'm not so sure about this."

…Only instead of words, a soft mrow came out.

Sirius immediately stilled and looked at her. His jaw dropped. "Oh my god. You did it."

James was staring with identical wonder. "Hermione? Oh my god. You're a cat! She's a cat!"

Sirius moved away from the bike and knelt in front of her. "Hey there, love. Congratulations."

Hermione couldn't express how excited she was, so she took off in the yard running. She felt incredible—she could see sharper, smell better, feel so differently. She bounded toward Sirius and immediately climbed in his lap, purring.

Sirius laughed delightedly, scratching behind Hermione's left ear. "God, you're amazing," he breathed. "And bloody adorable. Fucking love cats."

James sat beside Sirius and gently stroked Hermione's fur, before pausing. "Is it okay to pet her? It is still Hermione."

Sirius considered the cat in his lap. "Hermione, you okay with it?" Hermione let her purr intensify. Sirius laughed lightly. "Think she's okay with it."

Gently putting Hermione on the ground, Sirius transformed into his dog form. The change was immediate—Hermione bopped him on the nose and Sirius tried play-biting her ear, tail wagging rapidly. They chased each other around the backyard until they fixated on James, who was backing away and shaking his head.

"Oh no. I'm not turning into a stag and then having you two biting at my legs."

After a few more minutes, Sirius and Hermione transformed back. Hermione tried catching her breath as she pushed her hair back, now a wild mess from the run and the wind. And probably some of the scritches.

"That," Hermione gasped, "was incredible."

"Isn't it?" Sirius grinned.

Hermione shook her head with awe. "I couldn't have done this without you. You've been such a great mentor, thank you!" Hermione lifted her arms and Sirius caught her, swinging her in a circle and laughing. Warmth filled her heart and fluttered her stomach, and she smiled against Sirius's shoulder when he squeezed her.

"This was all you, love. All you."

James cleared his throat and abruptly they pulled apart. Ignoring their embarrassed looks, he said, "Now that that's out of the way, can we please go back inside where it's not freezing cold?"

xxx

Candlelight glowed dimly in Sirius's bedroom. Hermione was perched against the pillows next to Sirius as they pored over his copy of Hogwarts, A History.

"Why Helga Hufflepuff's cup, though?" Sirius wondered aloud. "He's got nothing to do with it. The ring I get. The locket I get."

"I think it's the status," said Hermione. "The power behind it. His ego knows no bounds."

"And his obsession with power and control," Sirius remarked. He leaned heavily against his bedframe, thinking. "God. Sometimes I wonder, was he born shitty or did he become this way?"

"I honestly couldn't say. We know he had a bad childhood. Maybe that contributed?" Hermione offered.

Sirius shook his head, brow furrowing. "That can't be an excuse. Everyone has a hard life. Life is hard. You don't see us becoming mass murderers."

"True." Hermione leaned against the bedframe with him, releasing a sigh. "I think we've read all we could. It's just a matter of pinpointing where Bellatrix hid the cup." She glanced at Sirius. He was staring at his hand, running his thumb along his fingernails. Hermione frowned slowly. "You've already thought about this, haven't you?"

"I have." He met Hermione's gaze. "I'm going to go back to my house."

"What?"

"A few times."

Hermione was bewildered. "How are you going to do that?"

Sirius scraped his teeth along his lower lip, inhaling deeply. "I spoke with Regulus. We made sure the fireplace in his room would stay open to the Floo network. We'll be going together in secret to search for answers, while at Hogwarts."

"Absolutely not," Hermione said incredulously. "Sirius. Listen to me. Voldemort and loads of Death Eaters are in and out of your house all the time now. It's not safe for you to be there. What if they catch you? What if they figure out what you're trying to do?"

"We can't do nothing, Hermione." Sirius was impatient. "If Bellatrix has the last horcrux, it's our only chance at figuring out where she's hidden it. We're the only ones who can safely enter and exit the house. We have to try."

"And you have tried. You've done so much already," Hermione said softly. "I know you think you're good at hiding it, Sirius, but I can tell. You're not recovered yet from drinking that potion."

Sirius glanced away. "Not fully, no. But I'm also getting better every day. That's something."

Silently, Hermione reached out and traced her fingers up his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his sweater, until her fingers brushed across the scar underneath. It was faint, but the words Blood Traitor were still visible. "They did this to you," she said quietly. "Please don't let them do more. I can't—I can't be there to protect you."

Sirius closed his hand around Hermione's. He was warm, and so was his gaze. "We're going to be okay, Hermione." Something in his voice made her think he didn't mean him and Regulus.

"You don't know what it was like, Sirius." Her voice trembled, a soft whisper. "Having to see you that way. To—to keep forcing you to drink, knowing it was torturing you. To bring your body back here, unconscious. You were so broken." Hermione blinked rapidly, breath stuttering. "I can't bear it."

Sirius regarded Hermione a long moment, his hand still holding hers.

Leaning in, Sirius kissed her.

Notes:

amazing gifset for Sands of Destiny

Chapter 25: Flutters

Notes:

AN: Hey all - I hope you are all safe and having a wonderful day. This took a bit, but it happened! Thank you to all the lovely and kind reviews; I know I didn't get to reply to all of them but I read each one, and they're all treasured gold. This chapter has been, uh, years in the making. You've all been so patient, and this chapter is intentionally very lighthearted. Next chapter will return to the meat and potatoes of the plot. I hope you enjoy x

Chapter 25: Flutters

Sirius’s lips were soft, warm. A soft shiver rippled through her from where their lips touched—and then Sirius pulled back. He stared at her, uncertainty flickering in his gaze.

Hermione gazed back, then dropped her stare to his mouth. Amusement rippled through her. “You know what’s funny?” she said suddenly.

Sirius blinked. “Er. What?”

“When I came to this decade, the first thing I thought about you was how wrong and gross it would be to think of you in a kissing sort of way.”

Sirius swallowed, nodding unsurely. “And now?”

Hermione started smiling, and swooped in to kiss him again. She could feel his smile against her lips.

Merlin, it felt good. It was as if months and months of tension had finally melted away, and all the confusing myriad of emotions Hermione had been feeling finally found absolution.

Abruptly, though, Sirius drew back. “What do you mean wrong and gross?”

Hermione started laughing and shrugged helplessly. “Well, you know! You were Harry’s godfather. You were all grizzly and old in my time—I’d never think of you that way.”

“Grizzly and old?” Sirius’s face contorted comically.

“You know what I mean! You were twice my age, Sirius.”

Sirius winced, but conceded. “Was I at least still handsome?”

Hermione lifted a brow. “Who says you’re handsome now?”

“Now Hermione, let us not pretend here. I know you think I’m handsome.”

“Oh?” Hermione’s tone was challenging, eyes dancing with mirth.

Sirius smiled knowingly. “I do. Case and point…the shrinking sweater.”

Hermione froze, mouth parting but couldn’t immediately muster a response—Sirius’s grin widened as she spluttered, “I—well—that was just—”

“Uh-huh,” Sirius chortled, and Hermione shoved his arm.

“That wasn’t anything!”

“Love, that was everything.”

Hermione’s cheeks flamed but she didn’t deny it. The shrinking sweater incident had made her notice him more, after all. Instead, she replied, “So then you noticed me noticing you?” Her mouth twitched into a little smile when Sirius continued staring at her, teasing amusement in his gaze. “I’ve always noticed you, love. You’re hard to ignore.”

“Charmer.”

“Hermione.”

Hermione looked up at him. Sirius’s expression sobered, now peering down at her seriously. “I really like you.”

The corners of Hermione’s mouth lifted. “Really?”

“Really.” 

Hermione looked away, staring at their hands. Their fingers were still laced together. “I do too,” Hermione said softly. Sirius smiled, a shy sort of tug of his lips.

“You want to do this?”

Swallowing, Hermione nodded.

He kissed her again, and a warmth flared in Hermione’s chest that stayed for days.

xxx

There was something quite novel about starting a relationship.

It was as if someone had given Hermione implicit permission to let go of…something that she’d been holding into, and could now just be. Frankly, dating someone wasn’t even something she thought about often. She had so many important things on her mind and for a while, those things were all she could think of.

But something had slowly been changing; the longer Hermione stayed here, the more friendships and deep connections she was making, the less alone she’d begun to be. And Sirius, it seemed, had been a quiet constant through all of it.

What she’d told him had been true; Hermione had never given any thought of Sirius in a snogging sort of capacity when she’d arrived here. Those parameters, however, had changed; she was not the Hermione Jean Granger who had left Hogwarts in the nineties, and Sirius Black was not the tired man who’d escaped Azkaban. He was a student, a friend, a support system, and an ally. He knew her so well now; more than that, she just felt…connected with him. It was a softly growing flame of light. And now it had been ignited.

It was like flying without a broom, this feeling. She could hold Sirius’s hand whenever she wanted, all day if she so wished, and Sirius would look at her in such a way that it made her heart race. It was all those feelings she’d kept bottled now sprung loose, filling her with lightness and affection and that thrum inside her chest that would shoot up when she was around him.

It was incredible.

James noticed the very next morning, of course. He’d taken one look at Sirius, then Hermione, and deadpanned, “You finally snogged.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged and Sirius said immediately, “Oi, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about!”

“Yeah, and you’ve snogged. And you just call her your girlfriend.”

“How could you possibly tell from one look?” said Hermione, perplexed.

James sniffed. “I am man of many talents. Also I passed by Sirius’s room last night while you two were necking it.”

Sirius nearly threw something at James’s head.

They had only two days before they had to return to Hogwarts, and those days went by faster than ever; Sirius had finally completed a solid twenty-five percent work on the motorbike, and Hermione explored shifting into her Animagus form and back while he worked. He’d even chased her around a bit in his dog form, which ended with Hermione jumping on his back as he trotted around.

It wasn’t until their last night, after dinner had ended, that Charlus noticed.

Sirius had pulled one of Hermione’s errant curls down and watched it spring back up, making Hermione narrow her eyes and stick out her tongue. Charlus observed the exchange with a baffled look. “Merlin’s beard. Are you two dating?”

Dorea sighed and sipped her tea.

Hermione glanced at Sirius then Charlus. “Er, yes, actually.”

“Since when? All winter?”

“No, no—two days. It’s, er—”

“That’s my signal to get up now,” said James as he deftly rose from his seat and bolted upstairs.

“Hermione,” Charlus said in a delicate voice. “Did your parents…did they ever…discuss, you know…”

“Merlin, help us,” Sirius muttered, staring at the ceiling.

“Charlus, do stop before you hurt yourself,” Dorea said dryly. She turned to Hermione and Sirius. “You’re free to leave the table, dears. We trust you know how to behave yourselves, regardless of, well. You know.” She gave them a stern look. Blushing furiously, Hermione fled upstairs with Sirius on her heels.

James was already in Sirius’s bedroom when they came in. He took one look at their faces and burst into laughter, bowling over himself.

“Oh, shove off,” Sirius grumbled, sitting moodily on the bed.

“Just wait until you start dating,” Hermione said darkly. “Don’t for a second believe you’ll be safe from your parents having a talk. Heavens forbid they show you the banana thing.” Hermione shuddered. “My mum did that when I turned sixteen. Popped a cassette in the VCR and sat me down. I was never the same again after that.”

“What’s the banana thing?” James asked curiously.

Sirius started to smile. “Oh, James. You sweet lamb.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s where they show you how to put on a condom on by using a banana.”

“Bloody hell!” James exclaimed and Sirius rolled over on the bed, muffling his laughter into the pillow. “Hermione!”

“What?”

“That’s—that’s not polite,” said James in a stage-whisper, glancing nervously at the door.

“But you asked,” said Hermione, nonplussed.

“Yes, but—”

“But it’s too much for his delicate high-bred sensibilities,” said Sirius, sitting up again. He looped his arm around her waist and coaxed her to sit on the bed with him. “We mustn’t speak of carnal things with such candor.”

“It’s not that. I’m just not used to throwing words like ‘condom’ so abruptly,” James said defensively. “Especially from a girl. A girl who’s like a sister!”

“Yet you say ‘twat’ and ‘nob-end’ around me without a second thought.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“She’s got you there mate.”

“Seriously, though, what did your parents do to tell you about these things?” Hermione asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Dad gave a book and told me to study it.”

James nodded. “Same here, ’cept I had to sit through a half hour lecture. It was bloody excruciating.”

“Judging from what happened downstairs, I’d expect a second lecture when you start dating,” said Hermione, lips curling upward.

James groaned. “Who says I’ll be dating anyone anyway?”

Sirius and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance.

xxx

“Oh, honestly,” Hermione muttered as another student paused in front of their compartment, nearly pressing themselves against the window. The sound of giggling girls would ring in her ears for weeks. “Don’t they have better things to do?”

“If it really bothers you, you could always let go of my arm,” Sirius offered, amused.

“No!” She clung onto his arm even tighter. “I shouldn’t have to change just because everyone’s decided to make us the school’s gossip.”

“You’re dating Sirius, Hermione. Did you really expect less?” said Lily matter-of-factly.

“What about Sirius?” Hermione said moodily.

“Contrary to what you believe, I am rather popular in school,” said Sirius, humor sparking in his eyes. “And in similar regard, so are you.”

“I am not.” Hermione turned to Lily, but she only lifted her eyebrows. Hermione glanced at Remus. “Right, Remus?”

“Hermione,” Remus said kindly, “why does it bother you if you are?”

“I—I’m not bothered.” Sirius gave her a pointed look, and Hermione deflated. “I’m a little baffled, that’s all. I just really didn’t think either myself or Sirius would get this much attention for holding hands on the platform. I didn’t think anyone cared. Least of all popular.”

“Perhaps that word is what bothers you. But you are very well-liked by both professors and students,” said Remus. “You’re kind, smart, a powerful witch—and now a source of envy.” Remus paused. Then, delicately, “There’s also the small matter of how you came to Hogwarts.”

“Yes. That.” Hermione sighed, slumping against her seat. “I suppose you’re right. But I really don’t want the attention. The point was to fly under anyone’s notice so I could…you know, get things done.”

“If it helps, you won’t be stared at forever,” said Lily helpfully. “It’s always like this when someone in our year starts dating. Or argues. I got a lot of looks when Severus and I weren’t on speaking terms.”

Just then, the compartment door opened and James and Peter stood holding armfuls of food from the trolley. “Think we can squeeze in, lads?”

Lily stood up and nodded at Remus, who stood with her. “We were leaving to do rounds anyway. Enjoy the rest of the ride.” She smiled warmly at James, who smiled back.

James and Peter squeezed past Lily and Remus, sitting in the empty seats. “Right-o. We’ve got licorice wands, two bottles of pumpkin juice, and more pumpkin pasties than you can count.”

The compartment door slid open again, revealing Regulus and a supremely annoyed Severus.

“Severus?” Hermione sat up, alarmed.

“Budge up,” said Regulus, harried. They moved in closer to let them both through and Severus closed the compartment door, pulling down the shade.

“This is a very bad idea,” Severus seethed, throwing a menacing glare at Regulus.

“We won’t get a better chance while in school, not for a week at least,” said Regulus shortly. “And we need to talk about our plan.”

Before another word could be said, Sirius drew his wand and muttered a silencing spell. “Better be quick, Reg, before you’re missed.”

The compartment door slid open again and Scabior nearly fell in, closing the door hastily.

“What is he doing here?” said everyone but Regulus.

“Will somebody lock that bloody door!” Severus shouted.

Sirius threw a locking charm on the compartment door before rounding on Scabior. “What are you doing here?”

Scabior brushed dirt from his robes. “Was told there was a meeting.”

“By who?” Hermione said incredulously.

Scabior pointed at Regulus.

Sirius’s eyes rounded disbelievingly. “Regulus, you didn’t.”

Regulus all but burst. “I had to tell somebody! You were nearly dead and Hermione was catatonic! Besides, if there’s a blabbermouth here it’s her,” he nodded at Hermione. “We all know because you told us. And you learnt the fiendfyre curse from Scabs; it’s only fair.”

Hermione was still as a deer in headlights, too shocked to formulate a reply. “Er…okay,” she said finally. “I guess Scabior knows.” She turned to the group. “Did you all tell anybody else?”

A chorus of ‘no’s followed, to Hermione’s relief. “Good. It has to stay that way.”

“Wanna move over a bit, mate, so I can sit?” Scabior said to Regulus.

“Er…”

“We can’t get in any closer,” said James, unimpressed.

Scabior glanced at Hermione. “Why don’t you get cozy on your new honey’s lap so we can sit?”

“I will not,” said Hermione, ignoring Sirius’s suggestive glance.

Severus gaped in shock. “Are you two together?”

“Yes.” Sirius fixed him with a daring glance.

Severus gave him a dirty look. “Ugh. Hermione, you’ve really lowered your standard.”

“Watch your bloody mouth—”

“Will somebody move over so I can sit?” Scabior complained loudly.

“NO!”

“Fine,” Scabior sulked, sliding down against the compartment door. “I’ll just sit on the floor.” He clapped his hands together. “So, what’s the agenda? How’re we doin’ in You-Know-Who?”

“Well, there’s no real ‘we’,” said Hermione, causing an uproar.

“Bloody hell, not here we go,” Sirius muttered.

“Hermione, you know you can’t do this alone,” said Severus just as Peter burst out “There’s always a ‘we’! It’ll be ‘we’ forever!”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Hermione exclaimed, holding out her hands. “I only meant that a few of us would do that actual hunting and destroying of—of the you-know-whats.”

“Right, and what is our plan?” Scabior repeated. “I reckon we’ve all got a part to play here, yeah? What do we do next?”

“Aren’t you a Death Eater?” Peter stared at Scabior warily.

Scabior scoffed. “My arms are clean, mate.”

“It would hardly matter, considering both Snape and Reg are, Peter,” said Sirius.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Here is what we know,” said Hermione firmly. She was starting to get a headache. “Unless Voldemort made a you-know-what in the last month, there is only one remaining—Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. We’ve already deduced that Bellatrix was entrusted with it. It’s a matter of figuring out where she would hide it.”

“Regulus and I already decided we would check our house. Bellatrix still technically lives there; she might have hidden it away in her old bedroom,” said Sirius.

“Yeah, and if it’s not there?” said Scabior skeptically. “That’s not much of a plan.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, frustrated. “I don’t know what else we should do. I haven’t got a clue how else to approach finding the cup before Voldemort realizes all the others have been destroyed.”

“I thought he already did?” said James.

Sirius shook his head. “He only knows the diary has gone missing from Malfoy Manor.”

“Yes, and it won’t be long before he starts realizing one his servants destroyed it. Especially the new recruits,” said Severus silkily. “So we had better move fast.”

The handle to the compartment door jangled, then several knocks sounded. “Hermione? Sirius? Anyone there?” It was Lily.

Hermione unspelled the door and Lily slid it open, just as Scabior darted away from it. Her eyes grew wide, as did Remus’s from where he stood beside her. “Blimey,” said Lily, impressed. “Nobody told me there’d be a party.”

xxx

In the end they left the compartment with no real answer to their problem, but still in high spirits to be returning to the castle. It glittered in the moonlight cast upon the snowy turrets, windows flickering orange from the lit fireplaces. Sirius spelled their trunks together as they walked inside, and Hermione bit back a smile as he winked down at her.

They were spared hardly a moment together once the feast started, everyone catching up with each other and some of Lily’s friends started asking Hermione what she’d done over the holidays. Dinner itself was extraordinary, as always; smoked salmon and kippers, mashed potatoes and heaps of freshly baked bread.

The long day finally caught up with them, and soon enough Dumbledore dismissed them to their dormitories. Hermione washed up and changed into her night clothes quickly, waiting for what felt like an hour until the girls’ dormitory fell silent. Quietly, Hermione put on her slippers and crept down to the common room.

The fireplace was still lit, albeit dimly. She hesitated near the entrance to the boys’ dormitory, chewing on her thumbnail while holding her arm. Sirius hadn’t said for her to go up to find him, but impatience was getting the better of her.

 Her frown turned into a relieved smile when Sirius slipped out of the boys’ dormitory. “Sorry I kept you,” Sirius said in a low voice, smiling sheepishly. “Peter was struggling to fall asleep.”

“You’re fine. I only just got here.” Hermione beamed up at him as they drew closer. “Hello.”

“’Lo,” Sirius muttered, eyes bright in the flickering flames of light. His hands were warm where they ran down her arms, falling at her waist. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

Hermione tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Touching you.” Sirius peered down at her emphatically. “Just a few weeks ago you couldn’t bear the thought of it. I don’t want to do anything that’ll make you feel uncomfortable, dating or not.”

Smile widening, Hermione slid her arms around his neck. “I promise you, I’m okay with it. The nightmares don’t come anymore. I’m healing.”

Sirius exhaled, looking relieved. “I’m glad.”

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“Will you kiss me now?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he nodded. She leaned up on her toes to meet him halfway, and immediately warmth coursed through her body from where their lips met. His hand burrowed in her hair as his other slid to her hip, squeezing, pulling her closer. A small shift in position deepened their kiss, bright bursts of pleasure making Hermione ache to be closer, to burrow into him. Merlin, she didn’t remember kissing to be quite like this. It made her burn.

They broke apart, and Hermione smiled against his mouth. “You smell good.”

Sirius chuckled, still a little breathless. “Ta, love. You smell like roses.”

Dizzy with fatigue and overwhelming joy, Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. Sirius held her close, swaying a little with her and burying his nose in her neck.

“Sirius?” said Hermione, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Yeah, love?”

“I’m really worried about the last horcrux. Scabior was right. What if we can’t find it?”

Sirius pulled away slowly, searching her gaze. “We know where to start, at least. That’s no small thing, remember.”

“I know. I just…we’re so close. We’re so close to being finished, to have our final obstacle be with Voldemort himself. It…kills me to think that it could all be for nothing.”

“Hermione, look at me.”

Sirius’s change in tone caught her attention. Hermione met his gaze. He stared down at her firmly. “We are going to find the cup. It’s not a question of ‘if’. It’s when. And when we do, you’re going to destroy it as you did the others. You’ve come this far, love.” Sirius cupped Hermione’s cheek, brushing her skin with his thumb. “And you’re not alone anymore. There’s eight of us to help you.”

Hermione cringed, dropping her head in her hand. “Oh god. There really are eight of you.”

“Yep. Can’t get rid of us, either. Admittedly, the group you’ve selected is an interesting one.”

Hermione shook her head and moved her hand back around Sirius’s neck. “You’re all my friends. Scabior, Regulus, Severus…it was meant to be this way.”

“Loathe as I am to say it, it’s true. We couldn’t have done without them. They’re…good people.”

Hermione drew her head back, giving him a teasing look of shock. “Am I hearing right? This coming from the same person who said all Slytherins were evil?”

Sirius rolled his eyes as Hermione started laughing. “Laugh it up, yes. I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong. But I remind you that all the Death Eaters recruited from our school are from Slytherin. At the very least there’s a correlation.”

“Ooh, big words.”

“Wench.”

“Prig.”

Sirius gasped, making Hermione laugh harder. Sirius shushed her, pressing his hand to her mouth lest they wake someone; or worse, wake McGonagall. It didn’t help that Sirius was trying not to laugh with her.

“Right, it’s off to bed, troublemaker,” Sirius said with mock-sternness. They kissed again briefly, then went up their separate dorms.

Hermione climbed back in bed, pulling the covers over her tightly and closing her eyes. Seeing Sirius and talking to him had loosened a knot in her chest. Smiling contentedly, Hermione was fast asleep within moments.

Chapter 26: Unforgivable

Chapter 26

Unforgivable

“’S a bit exciting, innit?”

Regulus lifted his gaze from the Prophet, just in time to watch Scabior shove a mouthful of eggs in his mouth. Regulus grimaced in distaste.

“See now, this is the part where you say, ‘why Scabs, wot’s it that you find exciting?’” Scabior said in a mock voice.

“Why Scabs, what is it that you find exciting?” Regulus’s lips curled in a smirk.

Scabior leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “The whole thing. All of it. Bein’ part of something bigger than all of us. When Granger came to me last year, I couldn’t have dreamed what I’d be doing now.”

“What, barely masticating eggs?”

“That too.” Scabior grinned, and Regulus rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at his lips. “I thought I knew where I was headed before this, you know? Had my life set out before me, following along, not really inclined in any one direction. But this? It’s like I have purpose now. What I do means something.”

Regulus nodded, refolding the newspaper and setting it aside. “I know what you mean. I thought I knew what lay ahead of me. What my duty was. For so long I was resentful about it, but this…” Regulus shook his head. “It’s all changed.”

“It has.” Scabior dragged his fork around through his eggs. “You and Sirius seem to be getting on.”

“Yeah.” Regulus smiled to himself. “He came for me.”

“Sure did.”

“Thought I was in danger. He shook my father’s hand.”

“Hope he washed twice afterwards.”

“Knowing him, it was closer to three.”

Scabior snorted. He regarded Regulus for a long moment, unnoticed, as Regulus poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice. “You know, with everything going on, it’s got me thinking about the future.” His tone was oddly hesitant. Regulus glanced up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like what I might do after. If I make it, that is.”

“You’re making it.”

“Yeah, but—”

 Regulus’s expression closed. “No. There’s no question about it.”

Scabior frowned. “Mate, I don’t mean to be a thorny wand in your pocket, but we can’t ignore the possibility that I won’t—”

“No.” Regulus’s hand was suddenly holding Scabior’s, clasping tightly. “I’ll not hear it, Scabior. There’s no future scenario without you in it. I won’t allow it.”

Scabior stared at Regulus for a long moment. He nodded faintly. “Yeah, alright. ’S not happening, like you said.”

“Good.”

Scabior’s eyes slowly slid to their clasped hands. Regulus had not let go. His fingers were pressed into Scabior’s palm, his thumb against the back of Scabior’s hand.

Then, as if imagining it, Regulus felt a soft brush of Scabior’s thumb against his fingers.

They let go at the same time, heat climbing up Regulus’s face as he diverted his attention to his breakfast, and Scabior reaching for his glass. When Regulus finally chanced a glance at him, Scabior met his gaze steadily over the rim of his glass, drinking deeply.

xxx

“You’re a cat?”

Remus looked absolutely delighted. Hermione practically preened under Remus’s praise. “Oh, you must show me soon. You must be so adorable. Tell me she’s adorable?”

“Cute as a button,” Sirius confirmed. He cast Hermione a fond look, which quickly turned wicked. “When she’s not trying to swat at your legs while you run, that is.”

“Hey, you started that. You nearly took my ear off,” Hermione countered with a raised brow. They were sat comfortably around the Gryffindor common room, replete with dinner and taking to lazing in front of the fireplace.

“That was playbiting, love. No way I’d take a chomp out of your kitty ear.”

“And I was playswatting. It’s totally a cat thing. Or, I’m pretty sure it’s a cat thing,” Hermione frowned. “I should look into it. Crookshanks used to do it, but he was half-Kneazle, so he’s not a very good standard of comparison.”

Sirius began to grin. “You took in a half-Kneazle cat as your familiar? Why am I not at all surprised?”

“Well, nobody else wanted him! I couldn’t just leave him at the shop once I found that out. I’d been looking for a pet and… well, he was staring at me.”

“Probably deciding if you’d make a good lunch,” James said helpfully.

Remus hummed. “My wolf form does always have food on the back of his mind when it’s transformation week.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t eat any of us,” Sirius reminded.

Remus snorted. “You think I haven't tried? You lot were just too bloody stubborn to leave me alone.”

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’m so curious now. How much does animal behavior translate in Animagus transfiguration—depending on how long you stay in that form? I’ve read up on this of course, but it’s a different thing when actually experiencing it. Are certain animal forms more susceptible to instinctive behaviors that we can’t control when in that state?”

“Listen,” said James, burrowing deeper into his cushion on the armchair. “If it comes naturally while you’re in your Animagus form, it’s probably normal. No need to overthink it, is what I say.”

“He says that because he’s always rubbing his antlers against a tree the minute he transforms into a stag,” Sirius whispered to Hermione, who stifled a grin.

“Except Peter won’t eat cheese while a rat,” Remus said thoughtfully.

Peter, who was sitting on the carpet by the fireplace, frowned indignantly. “I don’t like it! It has a smell.”

“That’s another thing. Everything smells so much worse as an animal. Keener senses,” Sirius sighed. “Catching a sniff of unwashed bums all the time is no cakewalk.”

“He trotted through London as a dog once,” Remus explained to Hermione. “He wasn’t quite the same for a while after.”

A roar of discussion erupted, and Hermione shook her head and returned her attention to the book in her lap. “What’s this?” Sirius asked, propping his chin over her shoulder to read. After a moment, she felt him stiffen beside her. “Unforgivable curses? What’s got you reading this?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but paused. Casting a wary glance around the common room, Hermione nodded in the other direction. “Come on.”

Sirius followed Hermione toward the girls’ dormitory. He halted before he could take a step up. Hermione turned back questioningly.

“I can’t. The stairs,” said Sirius, gesturing at the stairs in question. He shrugged, smiling apologetically. “We could go to my dormitory?”

“Mm, but my room’s empty tonight. Everyone’s sleeping over Merilla Stacy’s dorm room,” Hermione explained. “Let me just…” Pulling out her wand, Hermione flicked her wrist and spelled the stairs. “There. Come on up.”

Glancing warily at the stairs, Sirius took a tentative step. When his foot met solid marble and the stairs didn’t sink into a slide, Sirius flashed a smile and followed Hermione up.

The upended bedcovers and missing pillows had Sirius whistle low as he closed the door behind him. “Explain again why the girls are sleeping in the Slytherin common room tonight?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Merilla snuck in a bottle of firebrand merlot from her parent’s cabinet during the holidays. The whole Slytherin common room’s joined in—they’ve made it a bit of a party. Last I heard.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “You’re joking. Really! Merlin, I’d like to see that, if only to see the Slytherins get sloshed.”

Snorting, Hermione settled on the bed near the pillows. Her smile widened when Sirius, with a wink, jumped a little and settled closely next to her. “So,” said Sirius. “You were going to talk about the book.”

Hermione’s expression sobered. “Yes. It’s… it’s something I’ve been thinking about since you said you and Regulus would try finding the last horcrux together. We know—at least we think we know—that Bellatrix has it.”

“Yes,” said Sirius slowly. “Not quite following, though, love.”

Hermione glanced down, smoothing the pleat of her skirt over her knees. “There are things that the universe, you could say, took care of when the Sands brought me here. I became part of the Potter family. They were connected to the Grangers, somehow. I woke up in a bedroom they provided for me, with a Hogwarts letter from Professor Dumbledore already sitting on the desk. All little pieces, designed to establish me here forever. One of those things,” said Hermione, with a little frown, “was the circumstance that orphaned me.”

“Death Eaters killed your family,” Sirius said quietly. He folded her hand in his. Hermione smiled a little at the gesture, and nodded.

“Yes. And in particular, they tortured me. They used the Cruciatus curse, not enough to render me insane, clearly, but enough that I have… the aftereffects of it. You’ve seen it before.”

“I have. That first day on the carriage,” Sirius replied darkly. His expression was grim. “Is this why you’re reading up on the Unforgivables?”

Hermione shifted a little to face him directly. “We’re up against the impossible this time, Sirius. It might not feel like it because the finale is facing Voldemort, but Bellatrix is not one to sneeze at. I bet you anything she’s the one who tortured me—she’s why I seize up in pain sometimes. I…” Hermione shook her head, breaking away from Sirius’s gaze. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I need to be prepared. We”—Hermione gripped Sirius’s hand tightly—“need to be prepared.”

Sirius tightly squeezed Hermione’s fingers back. “I understand. There’s no way to deflect a Cruciatus curse, though, love. How do we, or you, defend against it?”

“I don’t plan on deflecting it, Sirius.”

Hermione stared at Sirius until his eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious. Hermione, that…” Sirius reached for words, staring back at her incredulously. “This is nothing like using a fiendfyre curse. You have to have that cruelty in you to use Unforgivable Curses. Using that kind of magic… it changes you. Dark magic, it’s—it’s corrupting.”

“I’m already changed, Sirius,” Hermione said softly.

“Not like this,” said Sirius quietly. “Nothing like this.”

“If I don’t cross that line, we will lose.” Hermione’s expression was resolute. “I feel like—like everything has been leading to this. Dark magic isn’t a theory anymore, it’s a part of this and... a part of who I am now.” Hermione said the words with difficulty. “I can’t ignore what this is doing to me. But dark magic is an integral part of our plan. We’re working with initiate Death Eaters, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know, I know Hermione, I’m not—” Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not trying to shut you down. I actually, genuinely understand where this is coming from.” He reopened his eyes to stare at her with emphasis. “My family is all twisted up in the dark ways. Our library has books so unspeakable it would make even Dumbledore’s beard curl. I know what using it does to you. I’ve seen how it changes a person. To control someone, take their mind, their agency, to torture, to kill. I just… can’t bear to see what it’ll do to you. That you’re feeling cornered into using it.”

Hermione reached over and squeezed Sirius’s hand. “I know. And I know how personal this is for you.” Her fingers reached under the sleeve of his sweater, pushing it up lightly until she could trace the scar underneath. “You said it yourself over Christmas. I will be up against Voldemort with nothing to show for it. I’ll die. I have to be prepared.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” said Sirius fiercely. “The whole bloody point of that conversation was to explain why you need all of us.”

“I do. I’m not denying it, but my god, Sirius, am I wrong? Am I actually wrong to prepare for the worst?” Hermione looked away, swallowing hard. “I know the cost. I know what it takes to use these curses. I have to believe I can come back from it.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Sirius closed his eyes and turned away. Hermione didn’t blame him; this was beyond unpalatable to consider. But it had to be done. She had to try.

With a soft exhale, Sirius reopened his eyes. “We become what we hate,” he said softly, and tilted his head to glance at her. “The very thing we swore to destroy.”

Hermione smiled a little as Sirius lifted his arm for her to burrow against him. Settling comfortably, Hermione traced a ridge on his sweater. “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Sirius shifted to pull up Hermione by the chin, and kissed her hard. Hermione’s fingers tightened on his sweater as she kissed him back, her heart beating wildly when he pulled away. His eyes darkened with conviction. “Over my dead body.”

Blinking rapidly, Hermione pressed her face against his shoulder and held him tightly. Sirius squeezed back, kissing the top of her hair. “I hate this,” Hermione said into his sweater. “I just had to convince you that using Unforgivable curses is a good idea. I hate it. God, I hate all of it.”

“I know, love.”

Hermione drew back enough to meet his eyes uncertainly. “I’ll have to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Sirius’s gaze became knowing. He held her just a little tighter. “I’ll help. Doesn’t have to be anything big, you can use insects. Plenty of them on the grounds.”

Hermione shook her head, then snorted. “When I was a fourth year, our Dark Arts professor showed all three Unforgivables on a spider. It was vile, and disgusting, and I was very loud about how cruel it was. I never wanted to see something like it again. And look at me now.”

“I”m sorry, love. I know the feeling. It’s awful.”

A thought entered her mind, and Hermione looked at Sirius curiously. “Have you ever seen them performed?”

Sirius looked at her solemnly. “You know my family. I’ve seen it all.”

“Even…”

Sirius’s gaze lingered. “All.”

Hermione’s heart clenched in her chest. “Oh, Sirius.”

Sirius forced a smile and broke their gaze, clearing his throat. “It’s alright. I’m free now, yeah? Never have to be around that lot again. That is, unless they catch me or Reg when we poke around the manor.”

Hermione bit her lip. “I’m still worried about that, you know.”

“Love, you’re always worried.”

Hermione scoffed. “I am not.” She hesitated, then deflated. “I definitely am.”

Sirius grinned and pressed a laughing kiss to her temple. “Not your fault. Got the weight of the world on your shoulders, don’t you? As for me and Reggie, we’ll be fine. We know that house like the back of our hands—we won’t get caught. Again.”

“Good. I have plans for you, and not being a pile of rubble in your old house is sort of key.”

“Plans?” Sirius lifted a brow. “Care to share with the audience?”

A secretive smile played on Hermione’s lips. “You and me plans.”

Her face began to warm at the spark of heat in Sirius’s eyes, but she held his gaze. “Hermione Granger,” Sirius said quietly, his voice soft and teasing, “you are being saucy with me.”

“Hey, you picked me.” Hermione shrugged, her smile widening as Sirius started leaning in closer. “I can be as saucy as I want with you now.”

“Thank Merlin for that. Any longer and I’d’ve had to consider finding another shrinking sweater.”

Hermione’s answering retort was silenced against Sirius’s lips.

xxx

All Severus wanted to do was sleep.

It had been a long day. Oliver Cornby had spilled oil of boil on Severus’s robes during potions, which made him late to his next class, which made him late for lunch. A group of first-year Slytherins decided to set off dungbombs on the fifth floor except they didn’t know how and they exploded right in their faces, which made them cry at the smell, which made Professor Slughorn suddenly appear, as the head of the House, whom Severus had the misfortune to be walking past, and suddenly found himself tasked with taking them to the infirmary to get rid of the stench that now clung to them.

By the time he had supper he knew it was an early night in. No studying for Severus Snape. Except, to his bloody misfortune, the entire dungeon decided to have a party because somebody brought booze to Hogwarts and—

A shriek cut off Severus’s thoughts, and he held in a frustrated growl. “If looks could kill,” a voice drawled, and Severus turned his head to find Scabior sauntering up to him. “Din’t expect to see you here.”

Severus pushed himself further against the wall he was leaning against, scowling. “And why’s that.”

Scabior shrugged. “’Spect your nose’d be in a book in the dormitory than watching Briar chug a case of beer.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I wanted to sleep, but this”—he gestured angrily—“is keeping me up. May as well be here to witness Slughorn coming down and docking a hundred points.”

Scabior blanched and hastily set down the can in his hand. “You told?”

Severus scoffed. “What do you take me for? But all this bloody noise will—”

“—do nothing. Merilla did a powerful Silencing charm. Damn good at charms, she is.”

Severus’s expression darkened. “Then there’s no point in staying after all.”

“Come on, mate.” Scabior rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t you get tired of being all…” He gestured vaguely. “I know I get tired of seeing it.”

Was he deliberately trying to get hexed? “Why are you here?” Severus said acidly.

Scabior tilted his head questioningly.

“Here. Talking to me. Like we’re mates.”

“Er, aren’t we?”

Severus stared.

Scabior gave him a wounded look. “We are! Don’t have to be an arse about it.”

“What on earth gave you the impression that we are friends?”

“Well, you know.” Scabior widened his eyes with emphasis.

“What?”

“You know.” His eyes widened more.

It clicked. “That’s where you misunderstand,” Severus hissed, drawing close enough to loom over Scabior. “Being workplace associates doesn’t make us anything.”

Scabior snorted loudly. “Workplace associates?  Where’s Regulus—REGULUS! C’mere and listen to what Snape just—ow!”

Severus folded his arms as Scabior rubbed his shoulder. Just then, Regulus came into view, and holding a glass at that. “You called?”

“Snape thinks we aren’t friends,” said Scabior.

“We aren’t,” said Regulus. With a smirk, he slung his arm around Scabior’s shoulders. “We’re bosom buddies.”

Ignoring Scabior’s snort, Severus snatched the glass from Regulus’s hand. “That’s enough of that.”

“Oi! I can hol-hold my drink.”

“Is that why you’re swaying?”

Regulus attempted to stand straight. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

“Can’t.”

“I’m older than you,” Severus replied indifferently. Staring beyond the rim of the glass, Severus gave the drink a tentative sip. “You’re too young to drink. I better not see you do it again.”

“Only two years younger than you,” Regulus scowled, then glanced at Scabior. “Tell ’im, Scabs.”

“He’s two years younger than you,” Scabior told Severus.

“And besides, I only had…” Regulus paused. His face went pale. “Balls.”

Scabior exchanged a glance with Severus, who glared severely. “Time to get you to a loo,” he said, and wrapped his arm around Regulus’s waist. “Come on…”

Severus ignored Regulus’s protests and resumed glowering at the crowd. It was incredible witnessing so many of his classmates revert to incomprehensible dunderheads, all because Merilla bleeding Stacy brought—

A shadow fell over Severus and he snapped, “By Merlin, Scabior, if you’re here to talk about being friends again—”

“Wow, if I’m getting mistaken for Scabior, I’m definitely doing something wrong.”

Severus’s head snapped up to see Lily as she sidled in next to him, smiling. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“And you,” said Severus, his mood starting to lighten. That was the best thing about Lily; even at his most annoyed, she could always make things a little brighter, just by being there. “It feels like half of Hogwarts is packed in here.”

Lily shrugged. “It’s not often you get a secret party. Frankly I’m surprised we didn’t do one earlier. But yes, definitely some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are scattered about as well. Word spread fast.”

“Clearly.”

“I think it’s fun.”

Severus glared at her. “I wanted to sleep.”

Lily raised a brow. “Who’s stopping you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think.”

Lily grinned. “Come off it, Sev. It’s Friday night, Slughorn’s asleep, and we all could use a bit of fun. It’s not been a normal year, after all.”

“Certainly not. We’ve never had to see Oliver Cornby stuff this many peanuts in his mouth before.”

A laugh bubbled past Lily’s lips and Severus turned to face her, half-amused and half-annoyed. “He spilled oil of boil on me during Potions, Lily. I nearly thrashed him for the smell alone.”

“God, that stuff lingers,” Lily said darkly. “Slughorn shouldn’t make us use that ingredient anyway. It’s so much less efficient than pixie dust.”

“Pixie’s got a lower heat threshold than boil.”

“Yes, but at least it doesn’t have fifteen warning signs to look for when using it in a brew.”

“It’s irritating, I don’t disagree.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Is that—”

“A fourth-year? Yeah.”

“They’re not allowed! We specifically said sixth and seventh years only can drink.”

“Hm, slight problem when there’s no actual supervision.”

“Bloody hell,” Lily muttered.

Severus began to smirk. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that Sirius’s brother is completely plastered right now.”

“What? ” Lily exclaimed. “Where is he?”

“Scabior’s taken him upstairs. Leave off it for now.” 

“Sirius will chew Reggie’s head off when he finds out.”

“Let me know when he does—I’d like to watch.”

Lily snorted and shook her head. A comfortable silence passed between them, both of them watching the small chaos unfolding in the common room. Suddenly, Lily said, “I’ve missed this.”

Severus glanced at her. Lily turned her head to meet his eyes, and he found warmth in her gaze. “Me too,” he replied, smiling slightly.

Lily mirrored his smile, which then turned wistful. “We don’t spend enough time together anymore, Sev.”

“I know. Everything’s been so…”

“I know. But soon, yeah? Once…once it’s all done. Then all we have to worry about is graduation, and jobs, or more school, and dating, and…”

Severus couldn’t stop his snort.

“What?” Lily narrowed her eyes.

“That’s an optimistic list.”

“Well I intend to do all of them.” Lily sniffed. “As will you.” 

Severus withheld from rolling his eyes. He wanted to say that there was a good chance none of them would make it out alive, and even less of a chance for Severus, if Voldemort found out he was a traitor. Instead, Severus said nothing. He’d known Lily long enough to know when something was worth arguing with her or not. 

Lily suddenly sucked in a breath. “Oooh, finally. Someone’s managed to sneak in food from the kitchens.”

“You can thank me for that, Evans.” None other than Merilla Stacy strolled up toward them, lips twisting in an amused smile. “It helps when the kitchen elves like you. Here.”

She held a plate loaded with food to Severus. His lip curled in distaste. “No thanks.” 

Merilla didn’t miss a beat and handed it off to Lily. “Enjoy. I added extra chips.”

“Ta.” Lily didn’t waste time and started munching on a chip. 

“Not drinking, not eating, and not enjoying yourself,” Merilla noted, eyeing Severus with interest. “I’m almost flattered.” 

“It’s purely unintentional, if that is the case.”

Merilla chuckled. “I swear, this was supposed to be just me, Lily, and the rest of my dormmates. Unfortunately, Lucrezia Hannigan doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.” 

Severus grunted. Sighing, Merilla turned her gaze back to Lily. “I’m off to bed, then. Make sure Alice gets to her dorm alright.”

“Night, Stace,” Lily said.

Severus huffed indignantly. “You’re leaving your own party?” 

Merilla shrugged slightly. “I’m knackered. See you in History of Magic.”

Severus watched her go, even more annoyed. “I don’t understand people like her.”

“Like what?” Lily asked, giving him a look that was more knowing than he liked. 

“She just… does whatever she pleases.”

“Some would say that’s a good way to live.”

“She left her own party.”

“You heard her—she didn’t intend for a party,” Lily reminded.

Severus didn’t know why this was agitating him so much, but he couldn’t let it go just yet. “Why did she bring alcohol anyway?” he snapped.

Lily took another bite of food, chewing slowly. “Probably for the same reason a lot of other students had some stashed away.” Her next words were carefully said. “I think, perhaps, a lot of us sense what you and I already know is coming.” Lily set down the plate on a nearby chair and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “If there was a time to enjoy the moments we have, I think it has arrived.” 

Slipping her hand back to her side, Lily wandered over to chat with Alice. Suddenly feeling very tired, Severus turned and left.

xxx

“It would be nice, I think,” said Remus eventually, as Hermione made circuits around him as a cat, “if I could actually have an Animagus form.” 

Hermione the Cat stopped in front of him, waiting. Remus smiled and bent down, scritching her chin and was rewarded with an answering purr. When he moved away, Hermione transformed back.

“Has anyone ever done it before?” Hermione asked curiously, adjusting her sweater. “Had a werewolf and Animagus form?”

Remus shook his head. “The werewolf isn’t just a form, it’s an actual… being inside of me, waiting to come out. To be honest, there hasn’t been enough documentation on the life led by those bitten by a werewolf. My guess is, the wolf will reject any attempt. He’s quite possessive like that.”

Hermione looked intrigued. “That’s such an interesting way to put it. Yes, I could see that being a problem.” Hermione paused a moment. “When you were… attacked in the Shrieking Shack by the other werewolf, did you ever find out who that was?” 

Remus frowned. “No. I—for a second I thought I knew who it was, but the next morning I’d all but forgotten his face. I just remember he was big, quite big, and… I think he’d been waiting for me. I don’t know why.”

Hermione absorbed this quietly. He could tell her mind was working, but whatever she was thinking, Remus would not be privy for it today. She shook her head with a smile. “I’m sorry I brought it up. Thank you for helping me collect what I needed, Remus.”

Remus looked at the jar in Hermione’s hand, just as she tucked it inside her bag. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“Only Sirius and you, so far. I’m not sure this is one I want to broadcast.” Hermione glanced away. “I’m not sure I’m willing to hear what they will say.”

“That’s very fair.” Remus looked upon Hermione with a pang of sadness. Of all she bore under her shoulders, Hermione was perhaps the only person he knew who did not feel sorry for herself for it. “When do you plan to start?”

“I’d planned to tonight. Sneak to the Room of Requirement and, you know.” Hermione wrapped an arm around her middle.

“Will Sirius be there?” 

Hermione shook her head. “He wanted to, but tonight’s the only night he and Regulus can coordinate time in secret to discuss their plan. I do believe they intend to break into the Black Manor on Saturday.”

“Crikey.”

Smiling a little, Hermione turned back to face the castle. She checked her watch. “I think if we hurry, we can still make lunch.” 

Nodding, Remus fell in step with Hermione as they walked up the grounds. A peaceful silence passed between them, interrupted only by the sound of the giant squid blowing bubbles in the Black Lake. 

Remus finally spoke. “I’ll be there, then.”

Hermione looked up, startled. “Sorry?”

“Tonight, the Room of Requirement,” said Remus. He quirked a small smile. “I’ll be there with you.”

Hermione gave a short, anxious laugh. “It’s not exactly a spectator sport, Remus. I’d… I’d actually prefer being alone for this one.” 

Remus stopped. He waited until Hermione turned to face him, looking at her with an openness he rarely shared. “Hermione,” he said softly. “I know what it’s like to be alone when you’re doing something you hate. So I’m going to do for you what James, Peter, and Sirius did for me—even when I tried scaring them off.” He took a step closer, gazing at her firmly. “I’ll be there.” 

Hermione stared, blinking rapidly, and nodded. “Okay.”

Smiling, Remus gave Hermione a short nod and began walking again.

Notes:

A/N: Hello beautiful friends! I know this wasn't updated as soon as most of you would like, but I'm happy I got this out anyway. I've been getting such an incredible stream of kindness and enthusiasm and just overall good-heartedness from all of you, especially in the last couple months. I wanted to shout, hey! I'm writing the next chapter, don't worry! But I wanted to just publish it and let the chapter speak for itself.

Second, As of July 25 that just passed, this fic has reached its 10-year anniversary. I know. It took me a while to process that, because it does not feel like that much time has passed... but it has. When I started Sands, I was 18 and bored in my old bedroom, wondering what university would be like in the fall. I was still growing into myself, learning, becoming the person I am proud to be today. In that time, my writing has transformed. Matured. The scope of it is sometimes limited in this story, but it's there, and anyone who's been here since day 1 will have seen that growth. Above that, I have made... truly incredible friends on here and online writing fanfic and being part of a fandom community. If not for Sands, which was my step into this world, really, I would have missed out on some truly incredible, valuable, and life-changing friendships. You all know who you are.

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic. Thank you to all of you, new and old, who left a review or a favorite or follow, who gave this little story a chance and let me know in some way that you enjoyed it. When I say I read every review, I mean it. Good and bad, thankfully where the good far outweighs anything bad. I'm the luckiest fic writer ever, you guys. I'm still chugging along, sometimes hopping fandoms, and updating this slowly, and the love you give is truly rewarding. THANK YOU. Seriously, y'all make this experience so special. I don't rightly think I deserve it, but it means the world that you do.

As for this fic itself, next chapter is all plot! Things have been sprinkled and set up in this one. Trajectory-wise, there's not much left to this story-things are falling into place, and what I've been slowly setting up is all coming to head now. So YAY! Also, there are two quotes here: in the conversation on the bed, Sirius's "we become what we hate" is loosely based on an old yoga maxim, and Hermione's quote is from the Bhagavad Gita.

Lastly, technically this story is still under revisions so... if you see something inconsistent, please forgive me! It'll be addressed soon enough.

Thank you again, and thank you for joining me on this incredible ride.

Until chapter 27! x

Chapter 27: Clean

Chapter 27

Clean

Hermione stared down at the desk, arms folded and thumbnail held against her teeth.

The little grasshopper, sitting inside a glass jar atop the desk, ignored her entirely.

Hermione stared some more.

Beside her, Remus crossed his arms. " You know, I don't think staring at him will do very much."

"It could," Hermione insisted, knowing very well it couldn't. At Remus's knowing look, Hermione sighed. "He's just so small, Remus."

"He is," Remus agreed.

"I never found insects cute before, but the more I look at him, the more I think he's a cute little thing."

"Would being not-cute make this easier?"

Hermione bit her lip. That was Remus, always cutting through the fluff. "No," she admitted. "I just wish I could tell him somehow that this isn't personal. That I don't want to hurt him."

Remus shrugged a little, expression neutral. "Then don't hurt him. You don't have to do this right now if you're not ready." Or at all, was what Remus left unsaid.

Interestingly enough, Remus had not said a word against Hermione's idea when she'd confided in him earlier. Perhaps he understood, deeply even, the cost of enduring something untenable.

Deflating, Hermione slumped into the desk and dropped her chin to meet the grasshopper's unassuming stare. "You only live a year, you know. I looked it up in the library. And you're already an adult grasshopper, so you've only got two months left to live. Maybe less."

Remus's lips twitched into an amused smile.

"So actually, you're not missing out much. You've probably impregnated tons of lady grasshoppers and lived a long, fulfilled life." Hermione glanced up at Remus, hopeful. Remus's smile softened, and he shook his head.

Exhaling, Hermione cupped the glass jar in her hands. "Sorry about this, Gropper."

"Gropper?" Remus hiked his eyebrows curiously.

Hermione winced. "I'm not very creative with names."

"I'm more surprised that you named him, at all."

"I know. Like how you shouldn't name the livestock that you intend to eat. You get attached and then you can't eat them. Or maybe it's that you don't take them as a pet." Hermione watched the jar again as the grasshopper finally moved, placing one insect leg against the glass. "I feel… guilty."

Remus looked at Hermione for a moment. Then a desk appeared beside hers, conjured by the Room, and Remus slid in carefully. She felt his hand gently squeeze her shoulder. "You really don't have to do this right now, Hermione," said Remus quietly.

Hermione looked at Remus, her eyes sad. "I know."

A long moment passed in silence, and then Hermione slowly pulled out her wand.

xxx

Regulus paced the Owlery impatiently. Give it to Sirius for picking a place filled with shit.

"If looks could kill, Reggie, you'd've been in Azkaban ages ago." Sirius jumped the last step into the Owlery, smiling.

"Finally," Regulus muttered. "Anybody see you come here?"

"Yes, actually. I passed two prefects and a Head Boy, and shook hands with Slughorn before I got here," Sirius deadpanned.

"You're such a prat." Regulus rolled his eyes.

Sirius smirked, then quickly sobered. "We only have a short window to do this. When everyone's off to Hogsmeade tomorrow, we'll summon Kreacher to get in and out of the house."

"Where to first?" Regulus asked.

"My room. Nobody ever goes in there. Then we go to Bella's old room."

"You don't think she'd… be there, do you?" Nervousness crept in Regulus's voice.

Sirius frowned. "During the day? I doubt it. But we'll be careful. Not getting caught is more important than anything, understand? And we cannot be seen together, not even at Hogsmeade. You're watched too closely."

"I know." Anger flashed through Regulus. "I can't stand them."

Sirius gazed at Regulus for a long moment, emotions flitting across his expression. "I know you hate me," he said quietly. "I…"

"What?" Regulus prodded.

"I didn't want to leave you there that night, Reg. I would've taken you with me, if I thought I could. I'm sorry, Regulus."

Sirius's sudden candor caught Regulus by surprise. He glanced away, feeling awkward. "I don't hate you." He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I hate that I didn't realize what I was holding on to. That by the time I realized what was going to happen, it was inevitable." He glanced at his left forearm, covered by the sleeve of his robe. "This is made right by what we're doing now. Putting an end to it."

Sirius nodded, still staring at Regulus. "Thank you," he said, "for saving me in the cave. And everything after."

Regulus smiled. "And you, for coming after me and listening to Mum's screaming."

Sirius grinned and shook his head. "That was nothing. I'd do that a million more times for you."

Regulus's smile slipped, and for a moment he felt a vulnerability that only Sirius had been privy to. He felt so much smaller all of a sudden, transported back to a place where Sirius was the world and nothing could separate them. Back when Regulus was little and Sirius protected him, from insect to bully.

He still does. When that realization crossed him, Regulus could not control what came next; with two steps forward he came to Sirius and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing his eyes closed.

If Sirius was startled, he did not show it. Immediately his arms came around Regulus, holding him tightly. "I've got you, brother," Sirius murmured. " Always got you."

xxx

"Please don't chew on your wand, Hermione," Remus said weakly. "I've walked too many students to the infirmary to know it's a bad idea."

"Blast. Sorry, I don't normally do that." Hermione snatched the wand away from her mouth. "Nerves, I guess."

"It's alright." Remus looked at her kindly. "What're you thinking, now?"

Hermione glanced at her watch. An hour had gone by, and she had yet to cast a single curse.

"You can go," Hermione implored. "I don't want you stuck here. This could take me forever."

Remus was unfazed. If anything, his smile widened. "Not to worry. I'm a very patient man."

He really was. Of all her friends, Remus could sit through anything, no matter how tedious. It was in part what had made him such a great professor—his infinite patience with his students and lack of displeasure at being asked tons of questions about the material had set him apart from all the other Defense professors.

But Hermione did not want to be the person to exhaust that patience. She had to get on with it now. Tightening her grip on her wand, Hermione stared at the grasshopper in the jar. With a flick of her wand, the lid spun off and clattered on the floor. The grasshopper didn't hesitate, and sprang free onto the desk.

Hermione lifted her wand. "Imperio."

The grasshopper barely moved.

Remus approached her slowly. "Did it work?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Something's meant to happen."

Remus glanced at the grasshopper. "Try again?"

Hermione nodded. She lifted her wand again, and stared at the grasshopper. She steadied her mind. I want this. Obey me.

"Imperio."

Defiant, the grasshopper turned his back to her.

Frustration swelled. "Imperio!" she cried.

The grasshopper shuddered, then stiffened. Hermione felt it then—weak, flickering, but undeniable—a connection formed between them.

Hesitantly, Hermione lowered her wand. The grasshopper was unmoving, as if in wait. Command, and he shall obey, the book had said.

The grasshopper's will was nonexistent. It was firmly in her hands now. It was waiting for her command.

"Tapdance," she said. With a jubilant lurch, the grasshopper began to dance.

"Merlin," Remus breathed an exhale. A swooping sensation in her stomach had Hermione smile triumphantly.

"Not bad," she said, somewhat shakily. "For a first attempt."

Looking at the grasshopper, Hermione shifted the command in her head. Immediately, the grasshopper ceased its dance and began jumping up and down.

"Nonverbal?" Remus noted.

"Yes. It—it's a curse of wills, so verbalizing the command isn't necessary. I'm a little surprised it actually worked. The book said it takes practice."

"You're good at it," said Remus, giving her a small smile.

"It seems so." Hermione's elation faded a little. "I wonder what that says about me."

Remus hesitated. "Does it have to?"

The grasshopper made a tiny sound, and Hermione glanced at it sharply. "Oh god," she said weakly. "Stop, stop. Just stop." Cancel, Hermione thought quickly. The spell's done, just stop!

Like the whisper of wind, the connection between them faded. The grasshopper trembled suddenly, twitching, then collapsed.

Remus strode forward and checked him as Hermione shoved her wand in her pocket with shaking fingers. "He's alive," Remus said softly, glancing at her. "Just tired."

"I overexerted him," Hermione replied quietly, staring at the creature whose will had been hers for a handful of minutes. "But he couldn't stop."

"Yes," said Remus carefully. "That is what happened. Do you want to practice some more?"

Hermione hesitated. "I… I probably should." But she didn't move.

She could feel Remus's eyes on her, quiet and thinking. Hermione closed her eyes. She had no right to feel this way, feel sorry for herself. She had no right.

Remus gently coaxed the grasshopper back in the jar and closed the lid. The desks disappeared, and wordlessly he picked up Hermione's school bag and zipped the jar inside.

When he held the bag out to her, Hermione glanced up at Remus. He smiled. "Let's go to the kitchens."

Hermione blinked. "I don't know…"

"The kitchens," Remus repeated, and held out his arm. A wave of gratitude overcame her, at the kindness Hermione did not feel she deserved in that moment, and she took his arm.

It was a quiet walk from the Room of Requirement to the kitchens. Remus led her through a stealthy route, avoiding any chance of encountering a prefect. Soon enough they were standing in front of the large portrait, and Remus reached up and tickled the pear.

Together they climbed inside and Remus dropped her arm, moving easily through the kitchens. The house-elves rushed to greet them.

"Master Lupin! The usual, sir?" A very polite elf said in a dignified squeak.

"Yes, but make it a double please."

The elves nodded their assent and rushed around, bringing out pots and plates. Catching Hermione's curious look, Remus smiled sheepishly. "I, erm, come here after my transformations. They know me quite well. Come, let's sit." They settled at a table nearby.

"The usual," Hermione said, repeating what the elf had said to Remus. The gloomy state of mind from which she left the Room of Requirement was rapidly clearing as she looked at Remus with amusement. He fidgeted under her stare. "You have a usual here."

"I do." His mouth curled in a smile. "It's a pretty good one, too."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, thinking. "What would it be? Come to think of it, I don't actually know what kind of food you prefer. It's usually James or Sirius who sneak into the kitchens and bring back food."

Remus's smile was mysterious. "I am a man of intrigue."

Hermione snorted. "I bet it's something sensible. A spinach quiche and a fruit tart. No, maybe not after a transformation. I wouldn't want spinach right after my body splintered a million ways."

Remus choked a laugh. "Yeah, not even close."

Hermione didn't have to wait very long for the answer. Two steaming goblets of hot cocoa, a silver tray of cream puffs, and two heaping plates of crispy-fried chips covered in gravy and cheese curds were set before them.

"Poutine! Oh my god." Hermione didn't wait for a reply as she dug in. The richness of the gravy and crunch of the potato had Hermione close her eyes in bliss.

Remus was chuckling. "I take it you like it?"

Hermione nodded, chewing slowly. "Comfort food. You're a genius. I haven't had poutine in so long."

Remus grinned and joined in. It didn't take very long for their plates to be cleared, left only with their goblets of cocoa. The sweetness of the chocolate spread warmth throughout Hermione's body and the restlessness inside her finally settled.

She gazed at Remus. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Remus smiled softly. "It's like I said. I'll be here."

Hermione stared at him, seeing the truth in his gaze. "You really will, won't you?"

Remus stared back, nodding.

Hermione cracked a smile, until it became a grin. "Oh. You are getting hugged, Remus."

Remus laughed. "Finish your cocoa!"

"No, my mind is set." Hermione stood up.

Remus jumped to his feet at her approach, holding his goblet up between them. "Now Hermione," he started, dodging her a bit. He laughed as she chased him a little around the kitchen. "I'm not much of a hugger, Hermione."

"Are you really not?" Hermione asked, stopping. She shrugged a little and stepped back, and suddenly their game was over.

Remus frowned in surprise. "What, that's it?"

Hermione's brow hiked up, and she set her mouth even. "Well I'm not going to force you, Remus, what do you take me for?"

He saw the humor dancing in her eyes, and Remus began to smirk. His eyes lit with mischief. "I take you for someone who rises to the challenge."

Draining the rest of his goblet, he tossed it at Hermione before dashing toward the portrait hole, laughing and gasping at her shocked face as she caught his goblet.

"Thanks for the meal!" Remus called, clambering out of the portrait with Hermione hot at his heels.

"Anytime, Master Lupin!"

"She's right behind you, Master Lupin!"

Stifling laughter while sprinting stealthily to the seventh floor was no easy feat, but somehow Hermione and Remus managed. Twice they had to dive behind an alcove or suit of armor, narrowly dodging a run-in with a prefect and teacher. To their delight, the suit of armor carefully adjusted its grip on its shield to better hide them as a professor walked by.

Remus beat her to the Fat Lady's portrait and clambored inside quickly, finally allowing himself to laugh openly as Hermione closed the portrait door with a huff.

"I win," Remus declared.

"This time," Hermione replied with a sniff.

"Good on that suit of armor. I'll remember to give it a little polish next time I see it."

Snorting, Hermione shook her head.

Remus watched Hermione's smile slip as she glanced around the common room. It was very late, and the fireplace was barely flickering with embers and fire. The night sunk back in, and he saw the visible change in Hermione's demeanor. Her shoulders drew together and she folded her arms over herself, breathing deeply.

"When will you try again?" Remus asked quietly.

Hermione lifted a shoulder in a little shrug. "Dunno. When I can get away. It'll be often, maybe a few days a week."

Remus nodded. "Don't be alone for this one, Hermione. Let one of us know. Sirius and me, we'll go with you. And the others, if you decide to tell them. We're with you."

Hermone's expression softened, and she nodded. "I will."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Remus smiled gently. Then he opened his arms and lifted an expectant brow, and Hermione's frown was, even if only temporarily, replaced with a delighted smile. She stepped forward into his embrace and they held each other tightly.

"Thank you, Remus," she said, muffled against his sweater.

Remus grinned. "What're friends for? The way you caught that goblet, you earned this."

Hermione laughed and shoved his shoulder.

xxx

To the observer's eye, the Great Hall's students filing excitedly to the grounds on their way to Hogsmeade was nothing out of the ordinary. It would seem pure happenstance that Hermione Granger, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, Regulus Black, and Sebastian Scabior were packed in together as they exited the Great Hall—but of course, it was furthest from.

"Remember the plan," Severus muttered.

"Of course I remember the bloody plan," Sirius hissed.

"Sirius," James said warningly.

"What? He says shite like that—"

"Stay close to Sirius," Lily said to Regulus, whose shoulders climbed up a little at the attention.

"I will," Regulus said gruffly.

"And don't drink anything."

Regulus blanched. "I'm not going to drink anything!"

"I'm just saying—"

"Well don't!"

"What's this about drinking?" said Sirius.

Severus began to smirk. "Did he not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Sirius glanced at Regulus with a narrow look. "What did you do?"

"I'm sure this could be discussed later," Hermione interrupted with a frown. "Go over the plan."

"We go far into town," said Sirius.

"I summon Kreacher," said Regulus.

"You have exactly thirty minutes," Hermione reminded.

"Lily and I will keep an eye out to make sure nobody sees you go," said Remus firmly.

"I'll be there to grab Regulus once he's back," said Scabior, nearly bouncing with excitement.

"I'll make sure to keep the Slytherins occupied," said Severus quietly.

"Peter and I will have a table saved at the Three Broomsticks for once Sirius is back," said James, and he grinned at Hermione, "where my sister and I will get a chance to truly bond."

"Perfect," Hermioned breathed. "It's time. Mind your watches."

They split up perfectly. James wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and they, along with Peter, went straight to the pub. Regulus and Sirius walked in separate directions but to the same destination: the line of trees beyond Dervish and Banges. Severus set to work, joining the group of Slytherin boys headed toward Honeydukes as Lily and Remus strolled together at an even pace, stopping at the corner of High Street and starting up a chat.

A few minutes passed by. Regulus was the first to arrive, glancing at Lily. She made a furtive check, then nodded. Regulus strode past her and went to the line of trees.

A minute later came Sirius. At Remus's slight nod, Sirius wandered ahead until Regulus came in sight.

"Call him," Sirius muttered.

Regulus nodded. "Kreacher, come—I need you."

Several beats passed. Sirius and Regulus exchanged an unsure look. "D'you think he's not coming?" Regulus asked worriedly.

"He has to. He's been called. Something's holding him up," said Sirius quietly.

A few more seconds passed before a short crack announced Kreacher's arrival. "Sir asked for Kreacher?" Kreacher asked, his voice oily and dripping with reverence. He caught sight of Sirius and immediately stiffened. "Master's brother is to join you too?"

"Yes. Remember what I told you, Kreacher."

Kreacher nodded, bowing deeply. "Kreacher is a good elf. Kreacher will not call Master's brother a blood traitor. Anything for Master Regulus, whom Kreacher has taken care of these many years."

"Thank you. Who is in the house right now?" Regulus asked.

"Master and Mistress Black, of course. And the house-elves. Nobody else, Master Regulus. Kreacher was giving Master Black his tonic when Kreacher was summoned."

"That explains that," Sirius muttered. "Right, take us to my old room."

Kreacher's eyes widened and he looked to Regulus. Regulus nodded. "Do as he says."

Kreacher took both their hands and with a crack, they were standing inside Sirius's bedroom.

"Inform us if anybody approaches," said Regulus seriously. "We mustn't be seen. And do not tell anybody we came here, do you understand?"

Kreacher bowed again, clasping Regulus's hand tightly. "Kreacher swears to tell no one, Master."

Regulus smiled a little and petted his ear. "Thank you." He turned to Sirius. "Let's go."

Sirius hesitated, looking around his bedroom. "It's the same," he said slowly. "They left it as is."

Regulus glanced around and nodded. "Yeah, seems they did."

Sirius ran his finger along his old dresser. It came back clean of dust. They were keeping the room spotless. Why were they doing that? "Why bother?" Sirius whispered to himself, baffled. Not even the posters, several of which were muggle musicians, were taken down. He pulled the door to his wardrobe open and found all the clothes he'd left behind still there, hanging pressed and smelling freshly laundered. Sirius swallowed thickly.

"Perhaps they thought you'd return some day," Regulus said quietly. "Rejoin the family."

Sirius's expression hardened, all wonderment evaporating. "I was the one thrown out." Sirius shook his head. "Come on. We're losing time."

"Why can't we just Apparate to Bella's room in the first place?" Regulus asked. "We wouldn't have to sneak around as much."

Sirius glanced at Regulus. "If I know our cousin, she's spelled it so no one can enter. Aren't I right, Kreacher?"

Kreacher nodded. "Kreacher cannot Apparate inside Mistress Bellatrix's room."

"Come on, then." Carefully, Sirius and Regulus cracked open the door and entered the hallway. Bellatrix's room was one flight up, so they reached the stairs at the end of the hall and started up, jumping the fourth step that creaked, and reached the next floor.

"Third down the left," Regulus whispered.

"I remember."

They stopped before the bedroom door. Sirius stared at it a long while, then reached toward the door. His fingers ran gently down the grain.

"What is it?" Regulus asked. He startled when a creak sounded from behind them, but it was only the rickety creaking of the house.

"I'm looking," Sirius replied, his voice hushed. "There is a lot here." Sirius focused, narrowing his eyes at the door until he could hardly see it. His vision faded until he saw threads, woven in reds and greens, sharp and raw edges, but most of all, powerful.

"Fuck." Sirius looked at Regulus. "There are at least three curses wrapped around her bedroom."

"Three? You see them?"

"They're strong, can't miss 'em. Shit. I'm not a bloody cursebreaker, I can't rightly…" Frustration bubbled forth and he wanted to let out a scream. Sirius pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. "It's in there. Now we know it is. This is a dead bloody giveaway. She's never warded her room like this before, why the hell would she need to? She hasn't bloody lived here in ages."

"No, but she's been visiting. All the meetings, they're here now," said Regulus gravely. "What do we do now?"

Sirius's jaw worked in frustration. "We have to go back. Until I figure out how to take these bloody curses down and put them back up exactly as she cast them, there's nothing else we can do here today."

Regulus cursed. "We're so close."

"I know, Reg." Sirius couldn't deny his own frustration, but he clapped Regulus's shoulder. "We'll come back. This isn't over."

Regulus stared up into Sirius's eyes and nodded, reassured. Together they crept down the stairs and reentered Sirius's bedroom, where Kreacher was waiting for them.

Regulus glanced at his wristwatch. "We made good time. Let's head back."

He reached for Kreacher's hand, but Sirius paused. He gazed around his room, eyeing the wallpaper and the neatly-made bed.

"Sirius?"

Sirius jumped a little and glanced at Regulus. "Sorry," he muttered. "Let's go."

xxx

"Come off it. Never?" James was scandalized.

"Never," Hermione confirmed, smiling sheepishly. Peter shook his head and James looked pained. They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks as planned, and somehow their conversation circled around to—

"Hermione," said James quietly. "You know I love you like a sister—"

"I am your sister."

"—so it hurts me, truly hurts me, that you've never been to a proper concert. Muggle concerts don't possibly measure up."

"It really is an experience," Peter agreed eagerly. "I went to one and everyone came out with their hair turned purple. Just for a few hours, but it was awesome."

"That's impressive," Hermione noted.

"I'm taking you," said James gravely. "The Goblin Kings are wicked cool on stage—if they play this summer, we're booking tickets."

"It's a deal," Hermione grinned. "But then we have to go to a muggle one together. It's a great time for music right now, you know. Let's think… ABBA, the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Marvin Gaye, David Soul…" Hermione's eyes widened and she reached over to grab James's hand. "Bowie. We have to see him. He's English!"

James chuckled at Hermione's eagerness and gripped her hand tightly. "It's a deal! We'll do whatever you like."

Hermione smiled up at James, her heart full with how much she adored James. There had been a time, quite a long time ago now, when Hermione could see James as only the father of Hermione's best friend. He was so much more than that. He was family and he was fun.

"What?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're a bit of alright, did you know?"

James pinkened a little and looped his arm around Hermione, tugging her close. "Ta," he replied, smiling widely.

Peter made a face from where he sat across them. "Aren't siblings supposed to make fun of each other? You're ruining this for me."

"Oi, what's it to you?" James said irritably. "You're family and I make fun of you enough to make up for it. Hermione's exempt."

"Yes, I'm exempt," Hermione said with a dignified sniff.

"For now, until it strikes my fancy," said James.

"Yeah, for—" Hermione glanced up at James, making a face. "How rude."

Chortling, James and Hermione nearly missed Lily and Remus walking inside the pub. Peter gasped, and Hermione turned in her seat to catch Lily and Remus sliding in next to Peter.

"A bit early," Lily acknowledged, answering the question in Hermione's eyes. "Sirius'll be up any moment."

A few seconds later, Sirius walked inside the pub and stomped the snow from his boots. He caught sight of them and immediately sauntered over. "'Lo," Sirius said quietly, sliding in next to Hermione. He bent down to kiss her and Hermione inhaled softly at the cool touch of his lips, straight from the chilled air outside.

"Butterbeers for that table, please," Lily said to the witch who appeared with a quill and notepad.

"And a plate of chips, thanks," Peter added, glancing along the table knowingly. "You must be hungry."

"Cheers, mate," Sirius murmured.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked.

Sirius exhaled softly, shrugging out of his coat and scarf and stretching his arm out behind Hermione. "Well, we got there. Didn't get inside her room. She's warded it up six ways to Sunday."

"Balls," James muttered.

"Yup. God, I was angry. But there was no way I could take down the wards and put them back up just right. I'll have to go back a few times, study just what the hell she's put up."

"Did you get a look at the curses?" Hermione asked.

Sirius nodded. "There are three in total. Two looked sort of red, almost angry in shape. The other was green. That one felt more dangerous." Sirius shook his head, unhappy. "Even if I can see them, how many folks do you think documented the magical signature of those wards?"

"We'll work on this," Hermione said firmly. "This was good, Sirius. Now we know for certain she's hiding something in there."

"We do. I just feel bloody upset, I can't explain it."

Hermione rubbed his chest soothingly, eliciting a small smile from Sirius. "This'll be sorted in time. We can be patient."

Sirius nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling quietly. He gently enclosed the hand on his chest with his own, stroking Hermione's fingers. "Everything go smoothly here?" Sirius asked the table.

James and Peter nodded. "Got a table. Everything's been quiet," said Peter.

"Hardly anyone wandering around Dervish and Banges," said Lily. "Remus and I enjoyed the quiet."

"No noise from the Slytherin you-know-whats, so Snape did his part," said James. "Did, er, Regulus and…"

At that exact moment the door to the pub burst open, and Scabior and Regulus shoved inside, laughing.

"That answers that," said Lily with a grin.

Sirius slumped a bit in his seat, staring at nothing. Hermione squeezed their joined hands, smiling softly when Sirius glanced at her. You did good, she mouthed. Sirius smiled back a little and nodded. Then the barwitch came back with drinks and chips, and they all got distracted in the moment.

xxx

Dating while at Hogwarts was difficult, in some ways. Finding time together, in true privacy, was few and far between. The thought of sneaking to the Room of Requirement was exhausting in itself, and patrols tended to be more robust over Hogsmeade weekends. Thus Sirius and Hermione waited, until the last student left for bed, to sneak back down to the common room and cast a silencing charm around them.

"What's on your mind?" Hermione asked softly. They were perched on the rug in front of the fireplace, leaning against the sofa. Hermione turned to face Sirius. He stared into the glowing embers, seemingly lost in thought.

"I don't know why it's bothering me so much," said Sirius, almost under his breath.

"The… the wards?" Hermione ventured.

"No, not that. I don't like that, mind you, but that's not it."

Hermione waited, stroking his arm.

Sirius pursed his lips, scowling. "I saw my room for the first time in a year. I'd expected it to be filled with rubbish, neglected—even cleared out entirely. But it wasn't." He huffed, an ironic smile twisting his lips. "They've been taking care of it. It's exactly as I left it. Well," he added dryly, "not exactly. See, when I left, I'd shoved as much as I could in a bag and set off. I'd thrown open drawers and shite, all of it was turned over and messy. It's been cleaned and set back properly, since."

"Oh, wow," Hermione remarked. "It's been kept clean?"

"Not even a spec of dust." Sirius's expression darkened. "And then Regulus insinuated perhaps they'd been maintaining it for me, in case I came back and restored honor to my family." Sirius fidgeted his fingers, agitated, then turned to face her. His expression was cut in stone. "I can't even express how fucking angry that makes me, Hermione. It's been sitting in my chest all day, burning, and—and—"

Hermione eyed the tremble in his hands, balled into fists, and reached behind her to grab a cushion off the sofa. Wordlessly she handed it over, and Sirius shoved his face into and muffled a hoarse scream.

He threw the cushion back onto the sofa. Sirius looked drained of energy, but no less unhappy. Hermione tucked in closer against him, wrapping one arm around his middle and the other to push back his hair, stroking gently.

"They have no right," said Sirius, voice trembling with emotion. "No. Right. Even if it's not true, even if Regulus is wrong. I'm still angry. My family abandoned me. Seeing my things taken care of made me so angry. Because if not that, then it's to keep appearances. The shallow reality of living in that manor, to be a noble. A dignified, cold cleanliness. Fuck off."

Hermione nodded, running her fingers through his hair and scalp. "You're right," she replied quietly.

Sirius fell silent. For several minutes the only sound was the crackling in the fireplace, and occasional flutter of a ghost wandering by.

Sirius exhaled, and the tension bled out of him. His hand came up to clasp the arm wrapped around him, and he peered down at Hermione.

"That has to be the fastest you've ever agreed with me," said Sirius, wryly, squeezing her forearm. The anger and tension had left his eyes; all he had left was exhaustion.

The corner of Hermione's mouth lifted. "It's been known to happen on occasion. I mean it though. No one should endure what your family put you through. I won't ever forgive them."

Sirius's gaze softened. "Stick up for me, will you?"

Hermione lifted a brow. "You really need to ask?"

"No," said Sirius, starting to smile, then chuckled. "I know you, love. Insides to outsides."

"A bleeding heart," said Hermione dryly.

"A clever woman," Sirius countered, and pressed a kiss to her neck. Hermione smiled at the sensation, loving how warm he was, how soft. "Hardly had to do a thing to make me feel better."

"You needed to vent," Hermione said honestly. She scraped her nails against his scalp again, and Sirius hummed his pleasure. "I just listened. You did all the work. But I will hex your family if I ever come across them."

"God help them," Sirius laughed, pressing his forehead against hers. "Bloodthirsty witch."

"I know spells that'll curl even Merlin's beard. I know spells on spells on spells."

"Woman after my own heart."

Hermione smiled tenderly, and pressed her lips to his. His mouth moved sweetly against hers. She drew back a tiny bit, tracing his jaw with her fingertips. "I want more of this. More times like this. Just you and me. It's so hard finding any time with you, proper time."

"I know, love." He kissed her again. "We will. Not going anywhere."

'You're not," said Hermione, palming his cheek.

"I'm not."

"Stay with me."

"I'll stay."

Their eyes had grown dark, gazing at each other, until like a magnet they drew together and kissed. The sweetness of before was now molten and hot, Sirius's lips dragging over hers in soft, delirious strokes. Hermione's fingers dove through the hair on the back of his head, curling slightly, pulling him closer. Sirius groaned, and his hands fitted around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Hermione gasped, their mouths slanting as she felt the first brush of his tongue.

Hermione did not recognize the breathy, soft sound that left her throat, but couldn't find it in her to care; a new feeling ignited in her, moved her in ways she never thought to before, pushing against him and rolling her tongue against his. It was getting warmer, so warm, and gods she wanted to feel more of him, his arms wrapped around her, his hand finding the skin of her back under her camisole; She slid her hips forward, wanting to get closer, closer, and felt the hardness underneath his trousers, tearing a gasping moan from her.

She felt Sirius murmur her name against her throat as he pressed kisses there, tipping her backward with her wrapped in his arms. Hermione held him to her, hand in his hair and dizzy with want.

"Sirius," she breathed, and felt him sigh. They kissed again, then again, until their foreheads pressed together, struggling to catch their breath.

For a brief moment Hermione felt awkwardness creep in her, as her heartbeat slowed and her surroundings gathered shape and color again. This was new territory for them. It had been chaste kisses and affection up until now, but that was now blasted into the wind.

But that awkward feeling was fleeting, and Sirius helped Hermione settle back a little further from his hips. She gazed up at him and loved what she saw gazing back. Hermione started to grin. "I messed up your hair."

Sirius snorted. "Did a bit of that too." He nodded at her hair, wild in untamed curls.

Unspoken words bounced between them, as Sirius stroked up and down her arms. Yes, and it's fine. It's not time.

But still. "We should do that again," said Hermione. "Soon."

Sirius barked a laugh. "You won't hear any objection from me, love."

Hermione sighed. "I guess we should…"

"Yeah."

Hermione shifted, making to move, when a ghost sitting across the room caught her eye. Hermione's mouth twisted sourly.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"I think we just gave a ghost a free peepshow."

Notes:

A/N: I've been waiting to write that for-ev-ER!

Aside, anyone else read or write certain marauders and catch feels and start wanting to ship Hermione with them? Remus has been this for me for ten damn years. Writing their scene in this chapter had me feeling some type of way and I went and read some remione fics, hahahaha. Secret's out.

Thanks for reading, loves!

Chapter 28: Dreams

Summary:

Hermione dreams of what she desires. Scabior dreams of what he fears he'll become. Cursebreaking plot thickens-among other things...

Notes:

I figured 14 years is long enough to have some smut.

Note the rating change.

Hermione did not dream often anymore. Until tonight, she hadn’t been sure she still could.

The last dream had been under the influence of a horcrux, when Tom Riddle attempted to drive her mad in her sleep. Something about it had done something to her, offset her brain chemistry in some way. Real dreams—the simple, forgettable film reel pieced together by her unconsciousness—were lost to her. Or so Hermione believed. 

At present, Hermione was inspecting a small slip of parchment. She didn’t remember where it came from, but something told her it needed folding. She folded it uncertainly.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously. He was sitting next to her wearing one of Mrs. Weasley’s jumpers, the letter H knitted lovingly on the front.

“Trying to make a paper flower,” Hermione replied, frowning. “Except I can’t remember all the steps anymore.” 

“Just use magic,” Ron suggested, shoving a spoonful of pudding in his mouth. He was sporting an R jumper in deep maroon.

“I don’t want to,” Hermione said stubbornly, picking up another piece of parchment. “This is how my mum taught me.” 

“Before you knew you could use magic,” Ron muttered before focusing on his pudding again. Hermione glared strongly. 

Harry stroked his chin. “I think I remember this at school. Here, let me try.” Harry reached for the small stack of blue paper squares. “See, you just fold a few times like this… and then you have to cut out some pieces.”

Hermione glanced around. They were in the common room, and Hermione was at the foot of the small table while Harry and Ron sat on the sofa. “I don’t have scissors,” Hermione said woefully.

“Are you a witch or not? Use your wand!” Ron said exasperatedly. 

“I shouldn’t have to use magic for everything!” Hermione snapped. “And why do you look like that?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, who paled under her discerning gaze. 

“Like what?” 

“Like your twelve again.” She eyed his rounded face and short hair. “This doesn’t make sense.” 

“No need to insult me,” Ron sniffed and he changed in a blink. Hermione gaped. Ron was now as she knew him last: tall and lanky, with red hair coming into his eyes.  He frowned deeply. “I know you don’t fancy me anymore.” 

Guilt pooled in her gut. “Ron…” Hermione glanced at Harry awkwardly. He shrugged.

“He’s right, Hermione. You fancy someone else now,” said Harry. A glint shone in his eye that had her look away, cheeks burning. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’ve only been snogging my godfather, Hermione.”

“Shhh!” Hermione hissed, scandalized. She glanced around again and felt the stares of the other Gryffindors in the room on her. “It’s not like that!”

“So you’re not snogging his godfather?” Ron asked skeptically.

“I didn’t say that,” Hermione hedged. “I’m—I’m not dating your Sirius; I’m dating my Sirius. There is a difference.” 

“Should you really be dating at a time like this?” Lavender Brown piped up, sitting in Ron’s lap. She shook her head sadly. “With all that’s going on, you’re bound to get distracted.” 

“What would you know about it?” Hermione said sourly. “You got me into a real mess with Sirius, you know.” 

“Piffle. Think of it as a trust exercise between you and Sirius,” Lavender said absently, nibbling Ron’s ear. “Now you’re closer than ever.” 

“And I’m not getting distracted,” Hermione insisted. “We fancy each other. I’m not ignoring my feelings anymore for the sake of the world. It isn’t fair. I won’t,” Hermione declared, but she was unheard, and Ron no longer paid any attention to her. Hermione turned to Harry. “You understand, don’t you?” she pleaded.

Harry smiled at her. He was next to her on the floor, wearing the fleece jumper she once gave him for his birthday. “It’s not easy being the chosen one, is it?” 

Hermione hesitated. “I don’t think I’m a chosen one. I’m just—Hermione,” she said unsurely. 

“And I was just Harry.”

Hermione took a step back. “I’m not a chosen one. I’m not. Right?”

“Aren’t you, prophecy girl?” Harry raised a brow. 

Hermione paused. “That… I suppose there is a prophecy about me, now.” 

Harry said nothing as Hermione frowned at the table. The squares of blue parchment were gone. She slowly glanced at Harry. “How do you know that?” 

The common room faded, as did Harry’s face, and Hermione felt a whisper of a touch trail along her cheek. Hermione winced and moved away from it, unwilling to pull away from the gentle embers of rest she was a feeling.

“You really gonna keep sleeping, love?” 

Hermione’s eyes flew open. Sirius was staring down at her, a shadow of a smirk on his mouth. 

“Sirius,” whispered Hermione, heart hammering in her chest. For a moment she was relieved; the dream had disturbed her a little, and it’d been a while since her last. Absently she stroked his arm as he loomed over her. Across the dormitory, someone snored.

Hermione glanced at Sirius, panicked. “You can’t be in here. How did you get in here? The stairs—”

Sirius quirked a brow. “You really think a trick spell can keep me away?” 

“I suppose not.” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I just had the strangest dream…”

“I bet. I heard you say my name once.” 

“That was… er, nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Hermione shook her head. What was Sirius doing risking sneaking into her bed at night? She gently stroked his shoulder, concerned. “Is something the matter? Did something happen?”

Sirius looked somber. “Yes. It’s dreadful.” 

Her eyes widened. “What is it?”

He exhaled quietly. “Well, I woke up a minute ago and found myself thinking about you. Then I couldn’t stop.” He smiled proudly. “And now I’m here.” 

Hermione shoved at him and Sirius chuckled, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’m serious,” Hermione murmured, but the smile in her voice gave her away. This was new. And dangerous—Hermione rarely did both in tandem. “You should go before you’re caught.”

Sirius groaned unhappily and moved to shift off the bed. “You’re no fun.”

It was Hermione’s turn to smirk. “Neither will be Lily if she catches you.”

Sirius made a face, and Hermione had to fight to stop from laughing. “Right, I’m off. Need something before I go, though.”

“What?”

Hermione barely had time to react before he swooped down and kissed her. An inaudible squeak caught in the back of her throat, heart fluttering in her chest. Her hands went to his face as he broke off, only to kiss her again.

“Sirius,” Hermione breathed against his mouth, worried eyes glancing in the dim light, praying the other girls wouldn’t wake but also enjoying the thorough distraction by his lips. Her eyes fluttered when he pressed his lips to her neck. “This is—we shouldn’t—”

Sirius pulled back, raking his teeth thoughtfully over his lower lip. “Guess we’ll just have to fix that.” With a flick of his wrist, he produced his wand and cast a Silencing charm. With a second flick, the curtains around the four-poster snapped closed. 

Hermione stared at Sirius for exactly three seconds before dragging his head back toward hers. Her heart fluttered as he deepened their kiss, shifting so he was half-covering her. Her thigh curled against his waist, pulling him closer. Merlin, this felt so good, this was so good, and Sirius ground against her hips and—

Hermione’s eyes snapped open when a real moan slipped from her throat.

Cheeks blooming red, she glanced around.

The curtains around her bed were open. The girls were still asleep. There was no Sirius in sight. 

Another dream.

Hermione pressed her palms to her face to cool down. “Merlin,” Hermione breathed, shifting restlessly on her bed. The low burn in the pit of her belly would not go down. Her skin felt electrified.

Hermione glanced at the door.

No. It was impulsive. Hermione was not impulsive. Well, maybe sometimes. When aptly motivated and the rewards outweighed the consequences.

Still, impulse was impulse. One driven from body, not mind. Hermione did not do things without first consulting her mind. 

So, she consulted.

What harm is in trying? her traitorous mind needled.

“Traitor,” Hermione muttered to herself. 

Dream-Harry approved too, it reminded.

Hermione bit her lip and thought of Sirius. Of how he’d react if she were to appear outside his four-poster. They’d never broached this part of their relationship, not really. It had all just been so lovely, the casual intimacy, the drugging kisses...

Well, when put that way…

Hermione slid out of bed.

The common room was quiet when she carefully poked her head out of the girls’ dormitory. The fires had long since extinguished and the house-elves had already folded and fluffed and organized what needed. Closing the door carefully behind her, Hermione stared ahead in the direction of the boys’ dormitory.

Biting her lip, she tiptoed ahead and snuck in.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach. This was ridiculous. Hermione was not like this—but was she now? Was this the Hermione that came out when dating? It seemed a little unbelievable but here she was, toes freezing in her pajamas because she wanted a bit of necking with Sirius. 

She found Sirius’s room easily. Anxiously, Hermione flattened her hands against her hair. Taking a breath, Hermione reached for the doorknob—and nearly bowled over when it turned and the door opened.

“Arck!” 

Smack went a body into hers. Limbs akimbo. Gasping, Hermione stared up at the figure, flat on her arse and wishing the floor would swallow her whole. 

“Balls—so sorry, didn’t see anyone there.” The door closed quickly. A wand tip ignited, and Hermione flinched, blinking rapidly. A sharp gasp drew them open again—and she wished for the floor to swallow her again. 

“Hermione?” James gaped. “What are you doing here?” 

Hermione cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet. “Er—never mind that. What are you doing here?” 

James kept staring. She watched his eyes dart from the door to the boys’ dormitory to Hermione. A slow smile crept over his face that had Hermione’s cheeks burning. “I left my glass of water in the common room. Was going down to retrieve it.”

Hermione briefly forgot her embarrassment. “You couldn’t transfigure something into a glass?”

“You want me transfiguring something half-asleep in the dead of night?”

He had her there. “Fair does. Well, I guess I’ll be going—good luck with the water glass.”

“Oh-ho no, sis.” James took her elbow before Hermione could escape. “I still don’t know what you were doing here.”

She eyed James’ smirk warily. “Sleep walking.” 

“Try that again.” 

“Really. It’s good you came when you did or I might have—”

“Snuck in the boys’ dormitory and done away with my best friend’s sweet innocence?” James finished, a challenge in his tone that matched his knowing look. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “As if I’d do that with you, Remus, and Peter in the room.”

“I’m just calling a spade a spade,” said James, leaning against the wall with a million-galleon smirk.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. “You’re going to take the piss out of me for days, aren’t you.” 

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” 

“I just wanted to see him.”  She glanced at his pajamas. “And don’t think I don’t see your pocket has a letter-shaped something sitting in there.” 

James’ eyes rounded comically. “No it doesn’t.”

“Really?” 

James sidestepped her hand that reached for his pocket, ears turning pink. “Those are my potions notes, leave it alone.”

“They are not.” 

“Yes they are, Hermione!” 

“I’m just calling a spade a spade.” Hermione smirked, crossing her arms when James reddened further. “You were sending a love letter to Lily.” She relished James’s eye roll when she puckered her lips and mimed a kiss. 

“This is getting silly, Hermione.” 

“Perhaps.” Hermione’s eyebrow rose. “But I’m happy to think they’re potions notes. If properly incentivized, that is.”

James pinched his face and waved her off. “Fine, just never talk about this again!” 

He scurried down the hall and Hermione grinned in satisfaction. She glanced at Sirius’s door and sighed. So much for that. The run-in with James had cooled her down considerably. 

It was for the best. She didn’t want to compromise anything with dream-induced desires. Quietly, Hermione stole into her dormitory and slipped back into bed.

xxx

Hermione nearly choked on her cereal when a warm body suddenly pressed into her side. The scent of Sirius’s aftershave filled her senses, and she caught a glimpse of his smile as he settled next to her at Gryffindor table. 

“Mornin’, love.” Sirius dropped a kiss to her cheek before snatching some toast for himself. 

Hermione smiled faintly. “Morning.”

Sirius glanced at her as he piled his plate. “You alright?”

Hermione nodded quickly, ignoring the flip in her stomach. “Fine, just tired. Did you sleep well?” 

“Not really.” Sirius took a bite of toast. “But I’ll live.”

Hermione frowned and leaned a little closer to Sirius. Shadows swelled under his eyes. “What is it?” she asked softly. 

Sirius smiled a little and shook his head. “Nothing. Just stress.”

“About the…”

“Mm.” 

Hermione stroked his hand gently. “It weighs heavily on you,” she murmured. 

Sirius bit into his toast again and shrugged a little. “I’m worried. I’m not finding anything.”

“The library…” Hermione offered hesitantly.

“I’ve looked well enough, Hermione,” Sirius cut her off. “There’s nothing I can use for this.”

Hermione nodded, thinking. “I wonder if we could break into Dumbledore’s office.”

Sirius lifted a brow. “You think he has the key to cursebreaking?”

She shrugged. “It’s a big office. If not in the library, and not at your house, that’s where I’d look.”

Sirius thought on it a moment, chewing a corner of toast. “Suppose it’s worth considering.” He dropped the toast on his plate and raked his fingers through his hair, fingers curling inward. “I’m just not a bloody cursebreaker.”

Making a soft noise, Hermione tugged his wrist and pulled his hand from his hair. “Sirius, look at me.” Sirius lifted grey eyes to hers. “Last I checked you’re Sirius, not Merlin. Don’t pressure yourself so much you lose sight of that. What you’ve done so far is beyond brilliant. Okay?” He smiled slightly, nodding. She folded his hand with hers. “We will find a way. And we will destroy what’s in that room.”

“You’re right.” Sirius wound one of her curls around his finger. “You’re gorgeous when you’re heated, you know.”

Hermione warmed, rolling her eyes. “Flatterer.”

“Truth-teller.” Sirius kissed her softly. “When’ve I ever lied to you?”

Hermione’s lips parted with amusement. “Oh Sirius, you don’t want to open that can of flobberworms.”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. “Let’s open it! Between the two of us you’re the one with the most secrets, love.”

“Secrets aren’t lies, pickle of my heart,” Hermione smirked.

Sirius raised a brow, amused. “Oh?”

“Trying on a pet name for you. Too tart?”

“A tad inaccurate.” Sirius shrugged good-naturedly. “Appreciate the attempt. Keep going.”

Hermione matched his smile and stoked his fingers absently. “Hm, let’s see… ‘dearest’?”

“Too much like my mum.”

“Beloved?”

“Only when we’re apart.”

“Crumpet? Boo-boo?”

Sirius snorted loudly. “It’s perfect, snorkack of my soul.”

Hermione grinned and entertained the idea of kissing him properly, but a loud gagging noise stopped her. Sirius and Hermione glanced up to find Scabior giving them a sickly look.

“I says it year after year, spare the rest of us and get a bloody room.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” Hermione accused. Scabior gestured around the Great Hall. “Oh, please.”

Scabior rolled his eyes. “The two o’ you are sickening to watch.”

“Then stop watching us.” Sirius’s smile was flat and mocking.

“Can’t. ’S like a bad romantic story, you just can’t look away. An’ you’re no fun anymore,” he nodded accusingly at Hermione. “Before I could flirt shamelessly with you, innit? Now I’m ducking me arse from hexes by your beloved.”

“None of what you said is true,” Hermione replied with a frown. “You still flirt with me! And Sirius has never cast spells at you.”

“Someday he might,” Scabior muttered. Sirius nodded.

“He’s right about that.”

“Don’t encourage him. Did you need something, Scabior?”

Scabior sniffed. “As a matter o’ fact, yes. You seen Regulus?”

“No. Shouldn’t he be sitting at the Slytherin table with you?” Sirius glanced behind him curiously. The Slytherin table was, indeed, notably absent of Regulus. “And isn’t he your dorm mate?”

“Yes an’ yes. Haven’t seen him since last night.” Scabior looked between them and shrugged lightly. “Whatever. You see him, don’t bother telling him I’m lookin’ for him.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the—alright,” Hermione muttered as Scabior sauntered away, but not before spooking a group of first-year Hufflepuffs with a sudden roar. He laughed raucously when a smaller first-year shrieked and slid right out of his seat.

“I can’t believe he’s our friend,” Hermione said vaguely, shaking her head. “We’re genuinely friends with him.”

Sirius grinned. “He’s bloody hilarious. We should ask him to eat with us at dinner.”

“Sirius.”

“We could invite him to our common room. Poor kid’s been sleeping in a filthy dungeon for years, it’d do him some good.”

“He’ll never leave,” Hermione warned. Sirius shrugged and reached for an apple.

“We’ll make a bed for him on one of the couches. Leave some treats.”

“Now you’re being silly.”

“You’re right, Hermione. We’ll lose our snogging spot if he sleeps overnight.”

“Or he sleeps in the bed with you,” Hermione countered.

Sirius smiled slowly. “We’ll still lose a snogging spot.”

Hermione elbowed him lightly, making him snort. “In your dreams,” she said loftily, while the back of her mind screamed, and definitely in mine.

“And yours, love.”

Hermione eyes snapped up at him quickly but he was already distracted, crunching on his apple and waving Remus over to the table.

Hermione’s gaze slid to Remus, who walked in tow with James and Lily. Sirius leaned in and murmured in her ear, “Was I wrong?” His eyes gleaming with mirth. She searched him, but found nothing but humor and fondness.

“You’re not a mind-reader, right?”

Sirius tilted his head and smiled. “You mean no one’s told you?” Hermione shook her head, feeling faint. Her heart beat fast in her chest. Sirius leaned in again, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I can always read minds of the girl I fancy.”

Hermione’s breath caught as Sirius nuzzled her neck, sending a shiver through her.

“Yeugh,” James shuddered, sitting across from them with Remus. “We’re trying to eat.”

Sirius moved away from Hermione. “Did we miss anything?” Remus asked, amused.

“Wards,” said Sirius. “And Scabior sleeping in the Gryffindor common room.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know about that last, but I did some research on wards.”

“And by research he means overhearing a seventh-year Ravenclaw talk about a bloke she met at the Hog’s Head talking about getting trapped in one of the Pyramid of Giza on holiday and barely escaping the wrath of the pharaoh buried there,” said James dryly.

“The pharaoh Khufu? Really? What’d he do?” Hermione asked excitedly. At James’s unimpressed look, Hermione huffed. “His tomb hasn’t been active in centuries, forgive me for asking.”

“I’ll tell you the details later,” Remus promised.

“But what does it have to do with wards?” Sirius asked curiously.

“Well,” Remus began, “remember that lesson on ancient Egypt in History of Magic? The pyramids in Egypt are well-known for their cursed tombs—and wards.”

“That’s right,” said Hermione slowly with realization. “Ancient Egyptian wizards warded lots of passageways, left hexes behind.”

Remus nodded, looking serious. “They also did a lot of ward-layering using ancient runes.”

Her eyes widened. She turned to Sirius, who was equally struck. “Runic magic?” Sirius said quietly. “You think that’s how Bellatrix warded her room?”

“It’s dreadfully complex and horrid if you mess it up. Of course your barmy aunt used it,” James muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “There are ways to make sure of it, though. You will have to pop back to the manor, but it’s a start.”

“Regulus,” said Sirius firmly. “He’ll need to check. I can’t risk going back this soon. It was a close thing, getting Kreacher to comply. I’m still not convinced he won’t find a way to betray us.”

“He would,” said Hermione, her voice quiet. Her gaze lifted to Sirius’s. “If there is a loophole in his loyalty, he will find it. Within the limits of the magic binding him to your family.”

Sirius’s brow furrowed, giving her an odd look. “You seem certain. I don’t think he actually would, or can, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

Hermione looked away, running her fingernail down the varnished grain in the table. She was certain. It was what Kreacher had done to Harry in their fifth year. It was what drew Sirius Black to the Department of Mysteries where he never had been; where he should never have gone. The lie Kreacher uttered had sealed Sirius’s fate.

“The runes, though,” said Remus, sounding eager, “are a starting point. An amazing one. This’ll help us figure out how to un-weld ward layers, Sirius.”

Hermoine dropped her gaze, idly spooning her porridge. The whiplash of emotions was beginning to overwhelm her. Desire, fear, and grief, spinning on a yarn’s thread down the needle in her stomach, making her ache unpleasantly.

The hand in her lap was suddenly encased by warm fingers. Hermione looked at Sirius. He looked at her steadily, the corner of his mouth quirking before returning to his conversation with James and Remus.

Hermione squeezed his hand, reveling in the squeeze back.

xxx

“There you are,” said Regulus, relieved, walking toward where Scabior laid on a bench in the courtyard. “This whole bloody time you’ve been here?”

“Looking for me, were you?” Scabior didn’t move, keeping his eyes closed. “I’m tickled.”

Regulus shoved Scabior’s legs aside to sit next to him. “You read too much into everything.”

“An’ now I’m crazy? I should be flattered.”

Quietly, Regulus closed the book in his lap. “I needed a quiet place to study,” said Regulus. “Some of us do that, you know.”

Scabior opened an eye, staring skeptically. “I call bollocks.”

“Why?”

“Because the whole bloody castle is empty. You know how it is. Sun comes out after four weeks and everyone fucks off to the grounds.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Not in the morning, they don’t. Anyway, I don’t have to explain myself. What do you want?”

Scabior reared his head back slightly. “What do I want? You came to me!”

“Hermione mentioned you were looking for me.”

Regulus smiled when Scabior swore. “Nosy witch. Forget about me—I want to know why you’re acting,” a flash of vulnerability crossed Scabior’s face, “I dunno. This way. You’re usually… alright. With me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” said Regulus forcefully and looked fully at Scabior. Something on his face made Regulus swallow uncomfortably. He glances down, swallowing. “Don’t go there. This isn’t about you. I’m not trying to be an arse. I just wanted… a place by myself to think. There’s a lot on my mind, that’s all. I wasn’t avoiding you.” He swallowed hard. “I should’ve told you what was going on.”  

Scabior said nothing. He nodded once, understanding. It happened sometimes, with Regulus. The walls would come in for him, and Scabior wouldn’t hear from him for days until he felt ready. Eventually, Scabior nodded. “Alright.”

Regulus hesitated, searching his face. Scabior grinned. “I know, I’m quite pretty.”

Regulus smacked his arm, hiding a small smile. “You’re so weird.”

“Aye to that too. So?”

Regulus shrugged, not quite looking at him. “Anyone else wouldn’t put up with me. Most people don’t.”

“Most people are stupid. And with my barmy family, I’ve loads of experience already.”  

 “Charming.”

“Aren’t I?” Scabior grinned widely. Regulus laughed, and his eyes fixed on the angles of Scabior’s face. Scabior coughed suddenly. “Anyways, I did come to find you for a reason.”

“What’s that?”

“Letter just came in this morning. My granddad’s dead.”

Regulus’s jaw dropped. “Merlin, Scabs. I’m s—”

“Nah, we weren’t close or anything. He gave me a coloring book once. I was five.”

“Oh.” Regulus’s gaze flitted over him uneasily. “Er, still. Sorry.”

Scabior nodded. “Thanks. That’s not exactly what I came here for, though.”

Regulus was looking at him like he’d gone insane. Warmth flashed in his chest. Scabior loved that look on him. “Then what?” Regulus asked.

“My granddad was Welsh, so I’m off to Wales at noon for the burial. McGonagall’s seeing me off. My parents set up a portkey already.”

“Oh.” Regulus nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

Scabior licked his lips and cleared his throat, shifting a little in his seat. “I was told I could bring someone with me. For support.” Lifting his eyes, Scabior deliberately held Regulus’s gaze.

Understanding dawned on Regulus. “Of course. ’Course, Scabs, anything. I’ll get dressed. Should I pack something?”

“Nah, it’s just for the day. We’ll be back at Hogwarts before midnight Bring some money, maybe, just in case.”

“I can do that.” Regulus watched him for a careful moment, then reached for his hand and squeezed. “I really am sorry.”

Scabior nodded, gazing at Regulus with a soft look. “Let’s go, then.”

xxx

Sirius hated wards.

Bloody despised them. Overcomplicated ridiculous magic. A wizard with no life must have come up with them.

“I know what you’re doing, you know.” 

Hermione’s voice was a soft cut through the last hour of companionable silence in the library. It was an uncommonly warm afternoon, and most of the school had abandoned all pretense of studies in favor of enjoying the rare good weather. Sirius could hear students tossing a quaffle back and forth over the Black Lake, if the spike in cheering said anything.

With difficulty, Sirius had declined James and Peter’s pleading to play a few rounds of Quidditch with their friends from the Hufflepuff team. Though in reality, it had not been very difficult. His mind simply could not settle. 

Hermione and Sirius were sat at a desk shoved between bookcases and a dusty window, with only the occasional bang in the corridor for company, followed by Peeves’s greasy cackling. Even Madam Pince, who never missed a day of keeping strict vigil at the circulation desk, had mysteriously ducked out of the library an hour ago. Sirius marveled at it. It was remarkable, to be forgotten so thoroughly.

Hermione sat beside him with a book opened in front of her. He spied the faded title: Malum Nocte.

Sirius looked up from his parchment. The tip of his quill was still pressed on a half-drawn parabola. Complicated equations bordered it in volume. “What am I doing?” Sirius asked. 

Hermione glanced at him over her book, then to the parchment. “Some algebraic calculation?”

Sirius sighed, putting down the quill. “I don’t mean the arithmancy.”

“Oh.” Hermione stared at him softly. “I just meant… I think I know how you’re feeling right now. And you really shouldn’t.”

“What am I feeling?” He didn’t really want to talk about this. Instead, he looked at her hair. It caught a particularly magnificent beam of midday sun, sending golden threads down her cheek and throat. The length had gotten longer in recent months, spilling well over the swell of her chest and down her back. It was distracting. 

Hermione snapped her fingers in his line of sight and Sirius blinked. “Sorry, what?” he said, straightening. 

“You didn’t hear a word, did you?” she accused.

“Not one,” Sirius admitted, and smiled at the adorable little knit that formed between her brows. “In my defense, you distracted me.”

“I did no such thing!” 

“I never said it was a bad distraction.” 

Hermione huffed, sitting back in her seat. Sirius mirrored her, admiring the knit between her brows. Once, his flirting was grounds for slammed books and storming off. Now, Hermione only folded her arms and regarded him thoughtfully. 

He smirked when an unwilling smile pulled at her lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” she decided.

Sirius grinned and leaned in close, elbows resting on the desk, shelving the black hole of enchantments and equations for the moment. “On the contrary, Miss Granger,” he said, eyes gleaming, “I am a very good learner. A little guidance would certainly change my ways.” 

An intriguing shade of pink dusted below Hermione’s eyelashes. “Promises,” she said, loftily. Sirius’s gaze darkened. Hermione poked his shoulder firmly, actively ignoring her growing blush. “And you’re distracting me.” 

He reached over and wound a curl around his finger. “I thought we established you were distracting me.” 

Hermione’s expression cooled. “Sirius. You’re deflecting.”

Sirius’s interest in Hermione’s blush extinguished like a candle in rain. Her hair uncoiled from his finger with a soft spring, and Sirius sat back. “What’s that, then?”

For a moment, Hermione regarded him. She always held a strong gaze, as if seeing through the layers of his being. It made others uncomfortable, and rightly so—but a key element to her nature that drew him to her nonetheless, that dark gaze. 

Hermione gently placed her hand over his. “You don’t have to feel badly that you haven’t found a solution yet,” Hermione said softly. “There’s a reason cursebreakers are rare and highly trained in the Ministry.” 

“I wish hearing that changed how I felt,” Sirius murmured. Hermione slid her thumb along the side of his wrist, quelling the well of impatience beneath his tongue. Sirius exhaled and took her hand in his. “You’re right. I’m frustrated. Been a menace for weeks because of it. But mostly…” Sirius’s jaw clenched briefly. “I’m frustrated with myself.” 

Hermione began to interject, but quieted when Sirius motioned her to let him finish. 

“I know I shouldn’t be, but face it, Hermione. I’m the bottleneck of this bloody equation. The hanging variable, the rhymeless riddle. Our purpose, this mission—your mission—can’t move forward until we break through Bellatrix’s wards. And no historic newspaper, no research in this library, no book in the restricted section can teach me which ancient rune will break and recreate her curses.”

“Sirius, we only just realized it might be ancient runic warding. Of course you haven’t figured it out right away.”

A crease knitted between Hermione’s brows as he admired her look of concern. The weight of it had him avert his gaze. “Let me be a little frustrated, love.” 

Rosy lips pulled into a frown. Hermione nodded, lowering her gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Sirius felt like shit. “Please don’t be.”

Her thumb stroked against his skin gently. “I can be a lot.”

“I like it.”

She looked at him again, and the passion in her eyes made his chest ache, just a little. “I just… don’t want you to feel alone. That’s all. Just as you let me know all the time that I’m not alone.” 

Sirius’s expression softened. “I appreciate it, love. Really.” 

Hermione nodded quietly. After a moment, she spoke. “Would it be better if I left you alone for a little while? Gather your thoughts?” 

Sirius smiled a little and shook his head. “No need. I just…”

“I know. Helpful Hermione is officially deactivated.”

Sirius snorted and wrapped an arm around her. Comfortable silence filled the space between them. Hermione was warm against him, the rise and fall of her chest a soothing constant. A sudden roaring cheer outside had Sirius glance out the window, but found only an azure sky with candy floss clouds. 

Hermione nodded again, quiet. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The clamoring in his head had stopped. All that was left was Hermione’s warmth, and the scent of her soap. Sirius nudged her elbow. “Go on.”

Hermione frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”

Sirius shrugged. “You’ve thought of something but won’t say it. Consider this your sign to let Helpful Hermione out of detention.”

“I’ve hardly spoken. How do you know I have an idea?” Hermione sounded both curious and slightly offended.

“Love, I know you.” He poked the corner of her mouth. “That there is your thinking frown. Now normally you’d say what’s on your mind, but given our earlier conversation…” Sirius’s lips quirked when Hermione crossed her arms, irritated. “You have remarkable restraint.”

Hermione opened her mouth, as if considering protesting his assessment, but instead her frown deepened. “I didn’t want to step on your… well, you know.”

Fondness rushed inside him. Sirius leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. “Love, I’d let you trip me.” 

Hermione’s nose scrunched in a laugh and she looked at him with equal fondness. “Oddly, I know you would.” Her expression grew serious. “It’s about what you said a moment ago. How no book or research paper could uncover the riddle of Bellatrix’s wards.”

“What about it?”

“Well… was Bellatrix particularly gifted at school?” 

“Er…”

“I mean, was she getting all ‘O’s across the board? Did she graduate with distinction?”

“I don’t think so. She cared for her marks about as much as she cared for getting married.” Hermione’s brows furrowed. “She didn’t give a shit,” said Sirius. “Still, she could cast some nasty spells even at school.” Sirius’s face pulled memories resurfaced. “She found vermin in the attic once when she was fifteen. Thought they’d make great practice.”

“Wow.” 

Sirius hummed. “Kreacher had a dreadful time cleaning it up afterward. Why do you ask?”

Hermione chewed her lower lip. “Bellatrix doesn’t strike me as someone particularly gifted, or remarkable at spells. Advanced spells. And I don’t mean torturing, I mean proper spellwork. Like the curses you saw, or Remus’s runes.”

Sirius paused, thinking. “And… even a skilled witch couldn’t create the kind of magic Bellatrix has around her room,” he realized.

“Which means somebody other than Bellatrix put those wards in place.”

The revelation nearly overwhelmed him. Sirius shook his head. “Voldemort has dozens of Death Eaters on retainer, and all with, most likely, varying degrees of specialized skills that could create those wards. Voldemort himself could’ve cast them.”

“I’m not convinced Voldemort had any involvement,” Hermione countered. “Remember, he entrusted the horcrux to Bellatrix. It would be her responsibility to safeguard it, and she’d want to prove to him that she could do it. Which means she’d be dead in the water if she asked help from another death eater. Why risk having someone else know she’s warding her room? It would create questions.”

She had him there. A thought struck him. “She could hire somebody and erase their memories. Or ask a favor from somebody in the family, someone she could trust.”

“And once the wards were made…” Hermione started.

“She could show it off later to Voldemort, in private,” Sirius finished, eyes widening. “Hermione. You brilliant minx.”

Hermione smiled glowingly, and captured his fingers with hers. “I know. But now comes the real part.”

“The real part?” Sirius tilted his head. She was so bloody radiant, flushed as she was with excitement. It took him a few seconds to follow where her thoughts led—and the excitement in his chest stalled with worry. “You mean to find out who cast the wards,” said Sirius hesitantly. “And then make them undo it.”

“And make them undo it.” Hermione agreed, nodding. 

“Hermione, pumpkin pasty of my life. You are undoubtedly clever, but even you can’t persuade someone to betray Bellatrix like that. She’s not just terrifying, she’s lethal. I just don’t see it working.”

Hermione nodded slowly, her gaze holding his. “I never said anything about persuasion, Sirius.” 

Sirius’s brow furrowed. Then, his eyes rounded and he glanced away. “Oh, fuck sake.” 

“Sirius, don’t. It’s our best option.” 

Sirius released her fingers and pressed his knuckles against his eyes. “Hermione,” he said, frustrated.  Sirius tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder and closed his eyes tightly. “What I said before, I meant it. How many pieces of yourself can you compromise until there’s nothing left?”

Hermione was silent for a moment. “Broken bones can mend,” Hermione said, quietly. “Between Voldemort and myself, only one of us has torn ourselves to shreds.”

“And what of broken minds?”

“Nothing I can’t put back together.” 

Sirius did not reply. Hermione’s fingers gently pulled at his jaw, drawing his face to hers. “You said you’d let me trip you. Consider this a trip of my own, for the sake of the wizarding world.” Hermione shook her head slightly. “For the sake of the world, period.” 

“That is awfully noble of you, Hermione.”

“Needs must,” she said simply. 

Sirius exhaled slowly, patience held firmly between his teeth. “Love, I hear what you’re saying and, barmy as it is, I do understand. I won’t pretend I like it.”

“Fair enough.” Hermione looked away. “I don’t enjoy it either, Sirius. You know.”

“I know.” Sirius’s gaze softened. He turned his head slightly and feathered a kiss on her thumb. “I don’t doubt it. Besides, Remus’s talked about the… practice.”

Hermione smiled thinly and glanced down at her lap. “I’m getting better at it, you know. He thinks another week or so and I’ll be perfect.”

Sirius’s chest ached. “That’s good, love,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah.” Hermione’s smile grew pained, until it twisted away. Sirius pushed his chair closer and Hermione inhaled shakily as he pulled her into his arms. Without their usual cover of school robes, Sirius felt all of her - her trembling, her breath, her tension. He gave a little squeeze when she exhaled against his neck. 

Hermione pulled away a little and made a face. “You know, I’m not used to feeling you up this much in the library and not getting a stinging hex from Madam Pince at the impropriety.” 

Sirius matched her smile, propping his elbow over the back of her seat. “I know. Even Pince fucked off a half hour ago. I genuinely think she forgot we were here.”

“Makes you wonder what made her leave so quickly.” 

“Shame, Hermione. Even libraries let their hair down.” 

Hermione laughed and Sirius leaned in and kissed her, a little desperately, and swept his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. He smiled when Hermione reflexively followed his mouth as he pulled away. She blushed prettily and bit her lip. 

“Hermione?”

“Hm?” 

Sirius grinned when Hermione pressed a soft kiss under his jaw. “Now that’s dangerous.”

“I can stop.” 

Sirius quickly pulled Hermione flush against him. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

Hermione giggled and he swept his mouth over hers. Outside, a round of raucous cheers erupted from the quidditch pitch. Intrigued, they pulled away.

“From the sound of it,” said Hermione, “someone just caught a snitch over the lake.” 

“A Hufflepuff, I think. I heard Craigley’s voice among the cheering,” said Sirius.

“Wonder who?” 

They paused to listen. “Gallagher,” Sirius determined with mild surprise. Niles Gallagher, to Sirius’s knowledge, had tried for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for three years but never made the cut.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione asked, “D’you think they’ll reconsider his tryout?”

Sirius shrugged. “Nah, but maybe next year they’ll give him a fair shot.”

“I hope so. It’s his dream.”

Sirius mouth quirked up a little. “I’m more interested in your dreams, love.”

Hermione glanced at him, somewhat suspicious. She must have read something on his face, for her thumb stilled on his wrist and she stiffened. “Oh god. You know.”

Sirius contemplated drawing it out, denying it flatly, just to torment her a little. But he wasn’t interested in putting a front, not after the day he had. So he held her stare and laced his fingers with hers. “I do.”

Pink dusted her cheeks. She looked away with a deep, angry knit in her brow. “I’m going to blast James’s eyebrows clean off for this.” Drawing her hand out from his, she folded her arms atop the desk and buried her face, embarrassed.

“James didn’t tell me. Nobody did.” Sirius said quietly. If anything, Hermione stiffened further, and she straightened with an accusatory glare.

“You can read minds!”

Sirius laughed and pulled a reluctant Hermione closer until he held her against him. “Or,” he said quietly, “I always wake up when James gets out of bed, and I have very, very good hearing.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. He could see the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she said faintly.

Before she could try to pull away again, Sirius leaned down to kiss her cheek, soft and supple, then her neck. A shaky breath shuddered from her. “I wish you’d come in,” he said, a low confession.

“Really?” she breathed, hands shifting to rest on his chest.

“Mhm.” Another kiss, this time below her ear. A soft moan escaped her. “I could’ve told you some of my dreams. Most of them about one girl only. Care to guess?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She drew him gently from her neck, meeting his gaze with something that wavered between uncertainty, mortification, and…

Desire.

“Sirius,” she whispered. Not pulling away. Fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Holding his stare, looking at him the same way he was at her.

He didn’t know who moved first—only that her mouth was crushed against his, arms looped around his neck and pulling him closer, closer. His hands circled her waist and he pulled her atop the desk, pushing books out of the way, slotting himself against her as her thighs drew him in closer—so much closer.

She moaned against his mouth as he deepened their kiss, luxuriating in the taste of her, the softness of her lips. Merlin, he could do this forever. He wanted to do this forever. Her hands moved restlessly over him as he moved his palm to cup her breast. Her breath shuttered and he pulled away, watching her eyes flutter as his thumb found her nipple and raked his nail over it through her shirt. Her thighs tightened around his waist as she gasped his name.

He'd never heard a sweeter sound in his life.

xxx

Hermione didn’t know how long they kissed in the library.

A good deal more than kissing, if she were honest, but it didn’t matter. None of it did; not the horcruxes, not Voldemort, the fate of the world, so long as Sirius kept touching her.

He’d stripped off his shirt, lying somewhere next to hers on the chair she’d been sitting in earlier, now kicked haphazardly out of the way. Every breath was a gasp, every stroke against her skin lighting her nerve endings. She felt him hard against her and instinct had Hermione glancing around the library, expecting Madam Pince to suddenly materialize, or a student with a camera. But no one came. The library remained empty and silent, save for the both of them and their sounds of passion.

She was discovering a new part of herself. One that trembled at Sirius’s kisses, that pooled with desire low in her abdomen. He’d scraped his teeth against her belly and she’d nearly arched off the desk.

This was a side of her that lay dormant for some time, burdened with responsibility in her own time, and the fate of the world in this one. But with Sirius it all burst forth, free at last, for the first time. He held her like he would never let go, and it made Hermione want to give and give and give.

Hermione was squirming against him, breaths labored and short as her bra had finally come off and his lips had sealed over a pert nipple, when he pulled away and buried his face in her neck. “What did you dream of?” His breath ghosted against her ear, sending a shiver through her.

“You,” she breathed, fingers burrowing in his hair. “Me. A bed. Lots of snogging. It was nice.”

She felt his breath huff in laughter against her neck. “I think I can do one better than dream-me,” he murmured. He pulled back, darkened eyes boring into hers. “May I?” His fingers grazed the cotton underwear against her hip.

Her heart thundered in her chest, flushing deeply. Any moment now the reasonable side of her would shut this down, pull away. Demand she think. Remind her there was no time for intimacy like this. She had better, far more important things to focus on.

She was met with silence.

Hermione lifted her chin, smiling mischievously. “Are you sure? Dream-you was really onto something.”

Sirius’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Is that right? I guess I have to prove it to you then.”

She shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “I guess so.”

Sirius kissed her again, and Hermione was proven so, so wrong.

Gentle fingers slipped past the band of her underwear as he pushed her thighs further apart, fitting himself better against her. At first she was too distracted by what his tongue was doing inside her mouth, and then—

“Oh,” said Hermione, tearing herself from his kiss. Sirius’s fingers brushed against her again and she gripped his arm. “Oh!”

She’d just caught Sirius’s rakish smile when he stroked her again, and again, and the new side of Hermione she discovered was not a quiet one, as her cries and gasp echoed in the library. It felt so good, and…and…

Oh—no, this was too much. It felt too overwhelming, building too high too fast, and it scared her. She said as much, or tried to, but was caught between off-kilter words and squirming, her body not knowing what to do. She tried to back away, but then she pulled him back against her because she would die if he stopped.

Sirius must have sensed her confusion and panic, for he slowed slightly and pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t run from it,” he breathed. “Just let go.”

“I—I’m not sure.”

He paused, hesitating. “I’ll stop.”

Her body cried out in despair, already unhappy that his fingers went still against her. “Please no. I just…”

Sirius’s gaze softened and he kissed her. Something deeper, less frenzied. His fingers swept against her again, slow, letting it build. “Follow it,” he whispered against her lips. So she did.

This time, when it built higher, she let it. Let it lead her somewhere she’d never been. Her breath came in short gasps, Sirius’s touch relentless, and he leaned over her chest and took a bud in his mouth again, sucking softly. And that was it—she said his name in a choked gasp as her world drowned in white.

xxx

From the corner of his eyes, Regulus watched Scabior tug at the collar of his dress shirt. “It’s fine,” he murmured.

“It itches,” Scabior complained.

Regulus said nothing as they drew closer to the open casket in the drawing room of Scabior’s family home. Not many high society families came, but just enough to show his family respect. From what Regulus was able to gather, Scabior’s grandfather had lived by himself for thirty years, angry and reclusive, and bitterly avoiding the shadow cast from his ancestry.

They stopped before the casket. Scabior looked at it a long time, staring down at his dead grandfather.

Then, clearing his throat, he nodded at Regulus. “Alright, let’s go.”

Regulus followed Scabior’s lead. He didn’t willingly engage his relatives or the other highborn guests, grunting whenever someone approached them. Lunch had been prepared in the dining room buffet-style, but Scabior only glanced at him and headed for the stairs.

Regulus trailed after him. Scabior led them to a door that, with a quick spell under his breath, gleamed bright green before dissipating. He smirked at Regulus. “Just deactivated a bunch of dung bombs that would’ve showered down at us had we walked in without taking off the spell. Come on in.”

Scabior’s room, to little surprise, was entirely black.

Not in the posh, ornate way the House of Black was. There were no gilded frames or gothic molding: several posters of wizarding rock bands were spelled to the ceiling above Scabior’s rather large bed. A variety of magazines and nick-nacks littered his desk shoved against the window, and a wooden closet on the other side of the room. A record player sat by his bed with a crate of records nearby.

“I like your room,” said Regulus, honestly.

Scabior smiled brightly. “Don’t make a man blush on his grandaddy’s wake.”  

“Sorry.”

Scabior sauntered to the records crate and knelt down. “D’you like the Wizard Skinners?”

“Never heard of them.”

He pulled out a record of the same name. “Met them a pub in downtown London, once. The lead singer, his name was Craven-something. Anyways, turns out he met Billy Idol in Liverpool, ever heard a’ him? Said the bloke really inspired him to start a band. An’, well, for a muggle, he’s got wicked sound. Craven tells me he tried smuggling Billy into Diagon Alley but he blacked out in the cab over.”

Regulus chuckled, and the two settled onto the bed once Scabior set the record playing. They were quiet for a few songs, just listening. Rain had started to fall gently against the window.

“What were you thinking about this morning?” Scabior asked. Regulus lifted his gaze to meet Scabior’s stare. It wasn’t hostile; only curious. “That you had to disappear?”

Regulus didn’t say anything at first. He let the song playing come to a close before he spoke, his voice quiet. “I was summoned home. Kreacher popped into the common room early this morning. I was trying to copy some notes.”

Scabior stared at him in shock. “Bleeding hells. Are you okay?”

A smile graced his lips. “I am. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I was still… processing.” He glanced down at his lap. “It was my father. He’s been sickly, you know, but he summoned me. He was probably more coherent than I’ve seen him all year.”

“What did he say?”

“He was… asking about my loyalties.”

Scabior tilted his head. “In what way?”

Regulus shrugged. “He asked whom do I serve? I think it was a test. To see how deep my loyalty was to the dark lord.”

“And what did you say?”

Regulus looked at him, some unspoken emotion swelling in his chest. “That I am loyal to my family.” He paused, taking a short, tremulous breath, before reaching for Scabior’s hand. “All my family.”

The record hushed, the needle reaching the end of the vinyl. Scabior stared at him for a long while—long enough that Regulus started thinking he’d done the wrong thing in saying it out loud, the thing that laid unspoken between them for so long.

But then Scabior’s fingers laced with his, and he said in a soft growl, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Making a man blush on his grandaddy’s wake.”

Hope flared in Regulus’s chest. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face, and Scabior smiled back—a wicked, gleaming thing.

Just as quickly it faded, and Scabior looked at him seriously. “I was thinking a lot on the way here. Even more when I saw the open casket. I kept thinking how much he hated our family. Hated. And with good reason. The bloke died alone and unloved. And… I’m not so different. I hate these people.”

Regulus nodded, squeezing hand around Scabior’s. He continued.

“And I started thinking maybe that would be me next. I’d dreamed of getting out of here after I graduate, and maybe that would be how I turn out. Angry, isolated from everyone, and a maid finding my dead body during their weekly clean.”

“Scabs…”

Scabior shook his head. “But then I started think if things turn out right. An’ we survive what’s to come. See, there’s two things different between me and my grandfather.” Regulus tilted his head, questioning. Scabior’s lips twitched in a smile. “He didn’t just hate the family, he hated everyone. Had no damn friends.” Scabior’s hand squeezed his. “I… don’t hate everyone.”

Regulus’s heart kicked up, beating faster. “What’s the second thing?”

Scabior’s gaze darkened, smirking. “He didn’t have someone like you to snog stupid.”

Heat pooled in his cheeks. Using his other hand to fist Scabior’s miserable collar, Regulus replied, “You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up.”

It was Scabior who moved though, pulling Regulus by his grip on his collar, and dazed, Regulus let him. His eyes shuttered closed when the softest lips he’d ever felt in his whole life moved against his.

xxx

Hermione was boneless with bliss.

They’d quickly left the library after…after, practically running to the Gryffindor common room. The school was still empty with the exception of a few ghosts droning ominously in the grand staircase, which Hermione was endlessly grateful for. She wasn’t sure she could live down the very obvious post-release flush that still hadn’t gone away from her face.

They were curled up in Sirius’s bed per Hermione’s request; she wanted to be somewhere that smelled of him. She’d felt a little awkward at first, wanting to do something for him in return. It felt inherently selfish to take from him, to reach the height of pleasure, and have Sirius brush off her hands with a swift kiss on her knuckles and drag her out of the library. She didn’t know the rules yet, and she hated it. She was overthinking. She just needed to know what to do—what was right.

Sirius, as always, seemed to read her mind, for he’d laughed, in no way mocking, and a small blush formed over his cheeks as well. “Oh love, doing that to you was a pleasure in itself,” he’d murmured, stroking her cheeks softly with his thumbs. “In the most literal sense you can think of. I’m perfectly content. You don’t owe me a thing.”

Hermione chewed on that for a moment. “What if I want to?”

Sirius’s flush deepened, though his expression remained even and open. “Then I wouldn’t stop you—except now. It er—wouldn’t be much use.”

Ah.

She’d settled after that. Now, for the first time, with Sirius’s fingers running gentle patterns against her scalp as they laid in his bed, she felt truly at peace.

Sirius broke the silence with a soft question. “Could you tell me more about your life? Before the—before you came here?”

Hermione tilted her head up, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

“Not for anything in particular. You just… you help so much, Hermione. You care so deeply. It’s past admirable, it’s… I don't know what it is.” 

“You’re exaggerating.” Hermione waved him off, shifting a little uncomfortably. “And I have loads of help, mind. Severus, our friends, even your brother and that Scabior—who, by the way, have you noticed…?”

“Oh yeah, they’re absolutely going to hook up, just a matter of when,” Sirius nodded, brushing it aside, making Hermione hide a laugh. “I just meant, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it’s been for you, not just with the horcruxes, but being here. Carrying memories of times you will never recapture.” Sirius shrugged slightly and looked away. “I just want you to know. That you can talk about it with me. You should feel like you can talk about it, period.” Sirius lifted his eyes and tried to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were blank, unreadable, with the slightest parting of her lips. “And if not with me, then Lily or Snape since they know too, just whatever makes you comfortable.” He was rambling now, he could feel it, but Hermione kept staring at him in that unreadable way and it made words want to climb up his throat again. He quashed the instinct. 

Hermione nodded slowly, quiet for a few moments. “My mum made the best tea,” she said. 

Sirius blinked, nodding a little. “What kind?” 

“Sencha. She’d order them specially from Japan, which would take ages, but she had a whole brewing system. Not like how we make our tea, you know?” Sirius nodded again. “And my dad, he could bake the best jammy tarts. He told me his dream was to sit in his own study with my mum’s cup of tea and just read. We didn’t have a spare room for a study, you see, so he never did. He wanted it to be a proper library.”

“That would have been incredible,” Sirius said softly. 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “I asked Ron and Harry to help, once we graduated Hogwarts of course, make an undetectable extension to the house. Give my dad that study he always wanted.”

“Could you…?”

“No.” Hermione’s voice was firm. Sadness touched her eyes and she looked away. “That timeline is broken. My parents, the Grangers, are finished. I’ll never be born.” Her lips twisted in a sad, bitter smile. “The Sands of Destiny are aptly named.”

Sirius’s chest ached. “A cruel device it is that could destroy so much to change time.”

Hermione didn’t look convinced. “I thought about it a lot. I don’t think—I guess I don’t know.”

Sirius tilted his head, waiting.

“It’s hard knowing the truth, you know? This was a consequence of Dumbledore tampering with the sands. It’s not the sands’ fault he did that.” She swallowed thickly. “It’s not my fault that I’m here.”

Sirius pulled her closer, and Hermione allowed herself to sink into the warmth of his comforting arms. A gentle quiet settled between them after that. Hermione started to doze a little, until Sirius’s gentle voice roused her.

“Love?”

“Hm?” Hermione shifted closer to him.

“Could you… tell me about him?”

“Who?”

“Me. In your world.”

Hermione stiffened against him, but relaxed a moment later. “What do you want to know?” she asked, curious.

“I dunno. Anything. You never really told me much about him. Me.” Brown eyes met his, wide and curious. “You don’t have to, of course. I just wonder.”

“It’s a very reasonable thing to wonder about,” she said softly. “How much… do you want to know?” Her tone was careful.

She could sense it, though. Her walls were lowering, her trust in him filling the space between them. Knowing it made her heart feel lighter in her chest.

“Would it be alright to ask for all of it?”

Hermione bit her lip slightly, and glanced around the room one more time. She shifted against him, getting comfortable. “Okay.”

“Really?” He was amazed.

Hermione nodded. “I think you’re owed it, Sirius. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” For a moment her eyes took on a faraway look. “Someone should know.”

Unease crept in his chest. “What do you mean?”

She blinked, coming back to the present. She smiled at him. “Nothing. Only, you should know I don’t know a lot. I can tell you what I’d learned, and how you were when you came into our lives. Starting with a wanted poster.”

Sirius listened, absorbed, as she described her third year at Hogwarts. He sat, riveted by the idea of being a godfather. Horrified that he’d endured twelve years in Azkaban prison, wrongfully accused of murder done by—

“Peter?” Sirius was shocked. “Our Peter?” Hermione nodded, hesitant. “What—who did he kill?”

Hermione was seriously regretting going down this path, but it was a point of no return. History was set, and Hermione would be here for the rest of her life. Her past, as far as Sirius understood, was permanently out of the picture.

“You’re not allowed to tell anyone,” said Hermione, her tone dreadfully quiet. Nervous. “It could alter everything.”

“I won’t.”

“Swear it,” she said quickly, the edges of panic forming in her eyes. “Sirius, I’m not joking about this. It could alter history for the worse. I’m trusting you with everything, now. Everything.”

“I swear on my life, Hermione,” Sirius replied, peering into her eyes with nothing but the honest truth. “I will never tell anyone.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay.”

She told him everything.

xxx

Hermione felt raw, after. To bare her soul, secrets, and body in one day. But Sirius held her and listened, sometimes catching his breath, sometimes grinning. Other times he was so still, somber and contemplative. Through it all, he held her.

“For all you know,” she murmured against his chest, “We might’ve won. We could’ve all survived, grown old. Harry might’ve married Ginny in the end. We’ll never know.”

Sirius pressed a kiss to her hair. “They still might.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, say Lily and James do marry. Sprout a li’l Harry, and Molly still has Ginny. Maybe they still find each other in this timeline.”

Hermione considered it, and the thought made her smile. “That would be so lovely. For him to find happiness.” She squeezed Sirius’s middle. “Like I’ve found happiness.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, then barked a laugh. “I cannot believe James convinced Lily to marry him.”

xxx

The man, in the end, was named Cyrus Crane.

Severus had tracked him down with Regulus’s help. Death Eaters were still few and far between enough that it wasn’t terribly difficult finding the one that liked to show off his spellwork during his work hours in a museum. Severus, Regulus, and Scabior found him guzzling down bottles of firewhiskey in the Hog’s Head, eyes misted and red as if he’d been crying earlier. Scabior had lent a solemn ear, listening to the man’s sordid affair with a woman who left him for a vampire in Romania.

Hermione stared at Cyrus Crane contemplatively. They were in the charred remains of the Shrieking Shack; Sirius, James, and Peters stood at her right, Scabior, Regulus, and Severus at her left. Cyrus glared at her hatefully; had his mouth not been bound with magicked cloth, she was certain a litany of expletives would be thrown against her repeatedly.

“I can try reading his mind again,” Severus offered, stepping close to her.

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t waste your energy. We need that binding spell to hold. Plus, I need you for the other spell.” Severus nodded, stepping back.

She bit her lip. “He is strong, though. I don’t think I could… force him, to undo the wards.”

Sirius squeezed her hand. “Then we learn how he did it.”

Hermione nodded, squeezing quickly before letting go. She turned to Cyrus. “You have two options,” she said calmly. “Willing, or unwilling.”

Cyrus blathered against the cloth, sounding like he’d tried spitting.

James sighed. “Unwilling it is.”

“We only have a few minutes,” she said quickly. “I’m still not an expert at this spell.”

“We’re here,” James said quietly.

Hermione stepped forward, lifting her wand. Cyrus began twisting away, panicking as she stared him down. There was nowhere for him to go, though. Her Slytherin friends had bound him tightly.

“For what it’s worth,” Hermione said with a frown, “I really hate to do this.” She straightened her arm. “Imperio.”

A calm spread over Cyrus. He looked at Hermione with glazed eyes. She glanced at Severus, nodding. He nodded back, flicking his wrist. The cloth around Cyrus’s mouth slipped down, freeing him to speak.

“What did you use to ward Bellatrix Lestrange’s bedroom in the House of Black?”

Cyrus smiled brightly. “Old spells. Old runes. It took less than ten minutes to put up. Madam Lestrange was pleased with my work.”

“What were they specifically?”

“I can’t remember by name. They were old. I found them in a book with a Latin-ish name. Bad night, or something.”

“Malum Nocte,” Regulus said the same time as Hermione. They glanced at each other.

Hermione turned back to Cyrus. “Where in the book?”

Cyrus smiled again. “It was a poem at the end. A lover’s lament. Beautiful—and stupid. But beautiful.”

Hermione knew the poem, but didn’t recall anything significant of it. Certainly nothing of runes and wards. They’d have to pour over it once they returned to the school. “What else do we need to know to undo those wards?”

Cyrus shrugged good-naturedly. “Just a drop of blood from the person who cast it. You don’t need it, but you’ll be down a few limbs if you tried without.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Remus stepped forward, drawing out a small vial from his pocket. With a swift flick of his wand, a cut appeared on Cyrus’s thumb. Remus quickly collected a few drops before retreating.

“I think we’re done here,” Sirius murmured, staring at Cyrus uneasily. “The spell’s wearing off.”

He was right. Cyrus was appearing less and less glazed by the moment. Hermione nodded, exhaling slowly. “Alright. Severus?”

Severus nodded. The man blinked and Hermione felt her curse release its hold on him. He looked around before fury filled him. “You,” he growled. “Traitors! The Dark Lord will hear of this! I will invoke his name and bring him your fucking heads—”

 Severus stepped forward and pointed his wand at Cyrus’s brow. “Obliviate.”

Notes:

So let's not even talk about how long it's been. Nyooming right past that.

I debated for a long time in the span of this story if I would ever write the physical aspect of Sirius and Hermione's relationship. I have written a lot of smut in my lifetime for other fandoms and original work. This fic, though, I was never sure it needed it. For some time, I believed almost out of spite that this fic would focus solely on the slow build and the incredible depth of the plot. Now in my ripe age of 30-something, I felt it would be a disservice to the progression of their relationship not to allow Hermione to embrace that side of her. It was written less-graphic by design--I really wanted the emotion and exploration to be the highlight of the scene, rather than straight porn lol

A lot of comments questioned how this fic could possibly wrap up soon. I asked myself that too rofl. But it is. The outline is clear, and we're coming to a close soon. They have the Cup horcrux left, and then Voldy. Dun dun dun.

The Pharaoh Khufu referenced in this chapter was real. So is Billy Idol. Bless

Happy May! Hold your loved ones tight. We're going to get through this.

One last note. The creator of Harry Potter is a monster. This fic does not, nor does any of my previous work from over a decade ago, align with her beliefs.