Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Parallel Dilemma	By : MJurjevic Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 8115 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Parallel Dilemma by nagandsev
Chapter summary: Hermione discovers more of where exactly she is, and what has happened to her, as well as getting to know and trust Sirius again.
Chapter Two: Agitations
                                                              oOoOoOo

With a loud roar, they swept out of the fireplace. Hermione promptly shoved Sirius away.
"Ruffled your feathers, Granger?" he mocked gently. He was standing before her, watching her carefully.
"You were supposed to take me home!" she exclaimed.
"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, sweetheart." He made a theatrical wave of his arm. "This is home."
Hermione blinked and looked around in confusion. She took a few seconds to catch her breath, taking the room in while Sirius proceeded to motion here and there; lit candles appeared, burning bright, and soon the high ceiling of a spacious living room was made visible.
She frowned. The room was familiar to her—startlingly so. There were French doors leading out into a hall, and to her right was an open front salon. She looked over to her left and saw a large archway leading to a dining room.
Hermione fought to contain her rising anxiety as she recognized its layout and design. The room was cleaner and brighter than she remembered and much of the furniture was new, but…
Am I in Grimmauld Place? But… It looks so different! Her head throbbed as she remembered being there very recently—Harry and Ginny had invited her over for dinner with Ron. But the walls were different colours… The furniture was not the same. How is that possible?
She slowly focused on the details in the room, illuminated in the flickering light of the candles, and her heart started to beat more quickly. As she did so, she slowly began to recognize personal belongings filling the interior’s nooks and crannies here and there: her grandmother’s lace doilies, her parents’ travelling souvenirs and trinkets; she even spotted some of her favourite Muggle books tucked in the shelves of a bookcase.
What the hell was going on?
"Sirius, what are my things doing here?" She had meant her voice to sound strong and accusatory, but all that had emerged was a frightened whisper.
He went very still before her; his brows furrowed, watching her cautiously. He looked as if he was poised on the edge of something, ready to fight—or run.
"Hermione," he said carefully and deliberately, taking a step towards her, "I told you; this is home."
She shook her head in denial, holding her hand up before her to stop him coming closer. "I am not home. I don’t live here! Harry inherited it after you—you—" She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her chest began to rise and fall as her breathing sped up. Her mind twisted, whirled with the memory of the past few minutes. "Back in his office… Shacklebolt said this was Alphard’s—your uncle’s place—didn’t he? W-Why would he say that when Harry lives here?"
Sirius frowned. "Harry doesn’t live here. I gave it to you after—" He stopped abruptly.
"After what?" Her outstretched hand was now shaking badly.
"After—" He slowly walked towards her, softly saying, "Granger... Hermione... Please, sit down."
He reached out to touch her fingers, lightly enveloping her hand with his. His sudden kindness threw her into further bewilderment, and she felt frightened. "No! I want some answers, Sirius Black, and I want them now!"
"You really should sit down, sweetheart—"
"I said no—and don’t call me sweetheart!" She shook her hand free of his fingers and drew away from him.
Sirius glared at her in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. "Very well. Don’t then. Suit yourself." He abruptly turned and headed towards the dining room archway, calling back, "Let’s see what kind of alcohol you keep here."
Hearing Sirius opening and slamming cupboards, Hermione stood in the middle of the spacious room, feeling lost and confused. Her disorientation increased in a flash as she zeroed in on a framed photograph on one of the bookshelves.
Sirius had reentered the room and was saying something, but she couldn’t understand him. She felt an adrenaline rush and could only stare at the photo. She forced herself towards it, her heart thumping wildly as she saw who was in it.
It was a picture of her and Ron. She wore a bridal gown, and Ron was handsomely dressed in formal groom robes, but Harry and Ginny were laughing behind them, as if teasing them, dressed in T-shirts and jeans.
She started hyperventilating. What? WHAT? The room started spinning.
"Granger? Here let me help you." She felt Sirius put his arms around her and let herself be guided over to a large Chesterfield sofa near the fireplace. Plopping down on it, still clutching the picture in her hand, she heard Sirius call out, "Kreacher!"
There was loud pop, and the ancient house-elf appeared, asking, "Yes, master?"
"Please, bring some food here for Auror Granger and myself." On a second thought, he added, "And a bottle of elf-wine and one Firewhisky decanter while you’re at it."
"Yes, master..." Kreacher actually bowed slightly to Sirius before Disapparating away.
Even in her numb state, Hermione couldn’t control her amazement at his behavior and whispered, "You—you were polite to him!"
Sirius gave her a puzzled look. "Why shouldn’t I be? He serves me well."
But—but you’ve always been horrible to Kreacher! What has happened? Who are you?
Something in Hermione snapped, and she felt tears rolling down her face. She was all too conscious that Sirius still had an arm around her shoulders and was holding her hand with his. She could feel his heat, and for a second, she just wanted to melt back on him, into him, be held by and to hold him. To hold someone. She was drowning. Drowning in her doubts and fears. The fear that she had truly lost her mind.
Her soft brown eyes looked at him, vulnerable, unsure. "Please," she whispered, "Please, whoever you are, wherever we are… tell me what has happened."
A pained look passed over his dark features, but he said kindly, reassuring her, "I am Sirius, Hermione…"
A wild look flashed through his dark eyes, and he hesitated, obviously conflicted by something weighing heavily on his mind, before slowly saying, "Perhaps not the Sirius you know, but it’s me, Sirius, nonetheless."
Hermione tried to comprehend what he was saying. "Sirius…?"
"Yes, Hermione?"
"I… I feel dizzy. My lips are tingling," she gasped for air, "And my hands… I can’t get enough air…"
"Kreacher!" bellowed Sirius.
A popping sound was heard, and the elf appeared before them. "Yes, master?"
"Bring a Calming Draught, immediately!"
In crackles of Disapparating and Apparating again, Kreacher stood before them again with the potion.
"Here, Hermione, drink some of this. It should help you relax but still be able to concentrate." He looked worried as he held the cup to her lips. She managed to swallow some liquid down and felt immediately the effects. A warmth flowed through her hands and lips, and within seconds, she felt clear-headed and centred.
She saw that Sirius looked relieved as he watched her. He relaxed a bit as well, reminding Kreacher, "Some food now." He turned to Hermione. "You still look a little peaky—must be starving. A bit of nourishment might help you from feeling all wobbly. But first, take another sip of the potion."
She forced herself to do as he said, managing a bit more. Looking satisfied, he took her glass and placed it on the coffee table.
Now able to catch a second breath, Hermione forced herself to try to think rationally. He was staring at her with the same guarded intensity that she remembered from the days back at Grimmauld Place during the War, but his face was fuller than she remembered, and slightly tanned. Polyjuice made from hairs taken before he had died would have made him thinner, gaunt even… This Sirius was different. It had been years since Sirius passed through the Veil—and this one was certainly older than the one in her memories. She noted the faint silver streaks at his temples. It could not be Polyjuice. She was too close for a glamour charm to be effective.
That had to mean….
But she had seen him fall, seen him die, the glow of Bellatrix’ curse on his chest as he had flown through the archway in the centre of the chamber.
"How did you survive?"
His dark eyes burned with intensity as he whispered fiercely, "I’m the same as you."
She blinked, trying to understand clearly. "What?"
He patiently repeated, "I’m the same as you." He ever so slowly touched and lifted a fallen tress of her hair from her face and gently tucked it behind her ear.
A feeling of strange discord thrummed from deep within her as he touched her—his seemingly natural familiarity with her, his comfort around her.
His voice turned husky. "I’m lost like you. Misplaced."
She fought to understand, wishing that her head was clearer, despite the draught. "What happened to you? How are you misplaced?"
"I—I’m not sure. I have some theories, but nothing concrete—" He was interrupted by the pop of house-elf Apparition as Kreacher appeared with a large tray laden with food and bottles, which he placed on the low coffee table in front of the sofa. The house-elf asked, "Does master wish anything else?"
"That’ll do, Kreacher."
The house-elf Disapparated, and Hermione gazed again, glued to the photo in her hand.
"Here. Eat," he ordered, passing her a sandwich. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked quietly, pouring wine into two glasses.
She took a small bite from the sandwich and shook her head. Looking around, she uttered weakly, "Everything is so similar and yet… different, and yet… the same."
Sirius followed her gaze and, apparently comprehending, asked, "Don’t you recognize your home?"
"It’s not my home," she informed him vehemently. She placed sandwich and the picture down on the table with a snap. "It’s not my home; this isn’t my life—I want my life back—I—where’s Ronald?" she suddenly demanded.
It was Sirius’ turn to be shocked; he paled and didn’t answer her.
She pointed at the photo and asked again, "Where is Ron? That’s a picture of us." She swallowed, perplexed. "Is that a wedding photo?"
Sirius blinked and then croaked out, "No." An odd look crept over his face, and he softly said, "A rehearsal… Your wedding rehearsal…"
Hermione recoiled, shaking her head. "But I’m not married!" she blurted out. "We’re not engaged and definitely not married." That sounded wrong, somehow… disrespectful to Ron. She fought to correct herself, babbling, "Well, we’re almost engaged. Where is he? If this is our home, if this picture is real, he should be here!" Her voice was rising higher and higher. Ron was dependable… reliable… He would know what to do to help her. "Where is he?"
But even as she asked, she already knew the answer by the way Sirius’ pained look silently implored her not to demand he spell it out.
"Sirius? Sirius, answer me! You know, don’t you?" In spite of the calming potion, an overwhelming fear hit her, and she jumped up. Sirius lunged and grabbed her, holding her in a clumsy embrace as she thrashed around, pushing at his chest. "He’s dead, isn’t he? Sirius? Here—in this nightmare of a place—he’s dead? Answer me! What the hell is going on? Where the hell am I?"
She was shaking in his arms, sobbing, and he sat her back down and held her as he Accioed the Calming Draught and firmly insisted, "You must drink every drop." He gave her a gentle smile. "And then I’ll start telling you what I can."
She managed to down it all and slumped back against him, growing limper and limper until she lay quiet in his arms. Hermione heard him whispering sweet nothings to soothe her and slowly she laid her head on his shoulder.
Seemingly succumbed to the position, Hermione sniffled and stared over at the photo as Black offered some concrete information.
"You see," Sirius spoke quietly, "where I come from, your Ron is alive, very much alive." Hermione could feel her body respond, tensing to this; she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he continued, "In my world, you’re almost engaged to that ginger idiot who’d kept that filthy rat traitor, Pettigrew, as his pet all those years…"
Hermione became still at this. "We are? Ronald and I are together? Almost engaged?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. He’s trying to get you to be exclusively his, but—" Sirius stopped, and Hermione looked up and watched him as he mulled something over in his mind before answering, "Yes, you and Weasley." Sirius eyes narrowed, giving her a small, forced smile of affirmation. He cleared his throat. "But here… Here—you hate my bloody guts."
"No, I don’t—"
"The Hermione who exists here… resents me… She’s... You’ve... No, she’s blamed me for what happened to him, Ron’s death, for not being there…"
"What… happened?" she heard herself ask. She didn’t want to hear it in detail but knew that she must if she were to understand, to deal fully with this strange new world she found herself in until she could possibly figure out how to reverse what had been done… If ... Her head hurt at the impossibility of if.
"How? How did Ron…?"
"He fell through the Veil. Here. On an Auror’s mission, right before the wedding day..."
Hermione gasped and Sirius tightened his grip on her. They stayed that way: Hermione slowly trying to make sense of it all, to put things in their proper place, to categorise the facts that she knew from her reality. Not this! Whatever, wherever this is! she thought desperately.
Holding her in his arms, Sirius continued to silently comfort her, giving her a gentle squeeze now and then, seeming completely comfortable with letting her be in his arms, letting her sort through things as long as she needed.
An old clock chimed midnight, and yet they continued to sit there together in silence in front of the lit fireplace. Time ticked on.
But your Ron is alive and well! Hermione kept telling herself. Your Ron is enjoying his Quidditch matches and pub mates, so much... so much that he’s refused to even talk about a possible formal engagement announcement, not to say anything of a wedding date—it’s always caused a row between us... Neither of us can admit that we’re just not ready... just don’t want— She stopped herself. Her problems with Ron belonged there—not here!
Feeling a wave of deep insecurity wash over her, Hermione pressed her head against Sirius’ chest as if she could press it all away and wipe away the horrible event she’d just heard, whether real to her or not. She could hear his heart beating loud. Loud and fast, and she became aware of how tense and firm his body was. His muskiness filled her senses.
Hermione slowly sat up, suddenly feeling oddly discomfited at being in such close proximity with him. Perhaps it was because of the loud beating of his heart, or perhaps Sirius’ unique masculine scent being unexpectedly pleasant to her, or perhaps the undeniable affectionate way he cradled her to him as if he’d done it before, as if he were used to comforting her, holding her.
With that realization, she became self-conscious and forced herself to move away from him, dispelling the need to have physical contact with him.
Sirius appeared to tense up as she shifted her body weight away from him and saw her look of embarrassment, and in the second, she knew he knew why. He didn’t move but watched her silently as she scooted away from him until her back touched the sofa’s side.
Hermione’s thoughts were in a whirl, and she turned away from him to concentrate as she struggled to try to make sense of this place that she had found herself in. Her eyes roved across the well-ordered room, filled with knickknacks and mementos from a life that she had not lived. A place at once familiar and, at the same time, completely alien.
"No, not a place," she murmured to herself. "Not a world… not worlds—universes."
"Universes?" asked Sirius.
Oh, sweet Merlin! That’s it! "I think we need to talk about it—this," she waved an arm around the room for emphasis, "in terms of universes."
"Us?" Sirius’ smirked. "In terms of universes, Granger?" He flashed her an amused but charming smile that caused her to give him a weak one in response as she repeated, "Yes, universes."
"I have a different way of expressing what’s happening to ‘us’, but let’s hear your take on it. Ladies first."
"You see," Hermione sat on the edge of the sofa, the Calming Draught now allowing her full reign of her thoughts once again, slowly grasping at and putting the pieces together, hoping they would fit, "there are theories... these Muggle theories about the universe we exist in. In your universe, Ron is alive and in mine he is alive, but we’re not yet engaged in mine either—we’re, well, sort of—but here—"
"And Remus?" Sirius asked suddenly, interrupting her.
"Lupin?
"In my wor—universe, Remus is alive—and Nymphadora, but here," Sirius swallowed hard, "they’re… they’re not."
Hemione’s sad brown eyes told him everything he needed to know. "So, also in yours—they’re—"
Hermione nodded in affirmation. "The final battle, the battle of Hogwarts, against Voldemort..."
Sirius huffed; she could see that the thought of those he loved and knew to be alive in his reality non-existent, dead in hers, had hit him hard.
"So…," she began again. "So, you are definitely not from this reality… this reality’s past or from mine…?"
Sirius shook his head. "Nah… like I told you, I’m not from here." He gave her a concerned look. "And obviously I’m not from yours, am I?"
Hermione turned away from him, gazing into the fireplace, and shook her head no, feeling ill at the thought of having to tell him what she had seen happen in the Death Chamber.
"Know how I knew it?" asked Sirius, his voice almost chipper, causing her to turn back to him.
Hermione shook her head, feeling the combined effects of the evening’s Firewhisky, calming potion and exhaustion weighing down on her, anchoring her in place, and Sirius’ warm gaze, like a beacon, steadying her.
"At the beginning—you didn’t like me in my world—or protested and disapproved of my habits, too bloody cocky you kept telling anyone who would listen. Except for right before I switched over to here; you began to…" Sirius seemed to become unsure of what he was saying or perhaps how much he wanted to say to her. "But here, you can look at me without… With those lovely eyes of yours, with need and warmth."
They both stared at each other; something unspoken passed between them.
He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "As I started to say earlier, I arrived here pretty much as you did, searching for a perpetrator in the Department of Mysteries, and arrived here weeks ago, just before…" Sirius sighed deeply and then decided to get straight to the point. "In this universe, it was your—Weasley went through the Veil just before your wedding day. He said it was to be his last Auror mission before he married from what I understood. I had just arrived here myself. All I knew to do was to shut up and listen—not an easy task for me—but twelve years in Azkaban taught me one thing, patience. Watch and wait. Take it all in; try to make sense of what the hell was going on. We were called in; there was abnormal activity detected… Again, as in my universe and no doubt yours, an intruder had broken into the Department of Mysteries and had been traced to three rooms: the Time Chamber, the—"
"Space Chamber," piped in Hermione weakly.
"Yes, and the…," Sirius hesitated, "the Death Chamber. We were split up. I went to the Time Chamber and Weasley went to—We were going to meet up at the Space Chamber. Neither of us fancied the floating about, and we were going to draw straws on it—I waited and waited. He didn’t show and I went to look for him. He wasn’t there. I called for back-up. Eventually, our tracers detected an entrance; someone entered the Death Chamber, but… no exit." Sirius paused and held her tighter. "Recent activity was detected from the Veil… Someone had gone through… him…"
Sirius paused, as if he expected Hermione to rebuke or utterly reject him. But she only watched him, waiting for him to continue.
He swallowed hard and recounted further. "You see, I had just arrived here myself the very day before—before it happened… During briefing, I was able to hide my disorientation under the guise of pulling an all-nighter of too much liquor and carousing about—no one questioned my behavior. Weasley offered to lead the patrol… His murderer is still on the loose."
"Murderer?" whispered Hermione.
Sirius was clearly riled up. "Of course he was murdered—Weasley wasn’t the suicide type. He had everything to live for. He had you."
Hermione felt her face burning as she sat up a bit, and Sirius gave her an appreciative look, his face flushed as well. His eyes shined and his jaw muscles clenched hard. Then he looked away into the flames of the fireplace and in a strained voice pointed out, "That’s the thing—this intruder must have already been in the Death Chamber. Merlin only knows for how long beforehand and why…" Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. "Afterwards, I didn’t attend the memorial service. I was angry, drunk, sulking about, and went back to the Space Chamber determined to finish what we’d started. Determined to find some further concrete traces of the bastard who did Weasley in. I know in my heart it’s connected with our predicament. Deep dark magic and madness running amok in the Ministry." Hermione could feel heat and energy emanating off of Sirius, as he ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "I entered the Space Chamber and then thought I saw something in the darkness—a constellation pattern I’d seen before—"
"Between Uranus and Pluto?"
He nodded, swallowing hard. "It was the same constellation as when I’d come through… from my time, my universe. But here, nothing else happened. I had half-expected someone to hit me in the back with a hex again, to wake up somewhere new—but nothing happened. Nothing. I had to accept that the perpetrator was still on the loose. And I was stuck here. So, here I still remain. Only then weeks later, you’ve now shown up…"
Sirius turned again to Hermione. Something painful seemed to go through his mind before he said, "The Hermione from here had returned to work after a bereavement leave; she was all hell-bent to find the perpetrator, the phantom intruder she called him. She received elite permission from the Minister to have unlimited access to the Time and the Space Rooms. And just today, I and my new partner were assigned to her, for protection while she did her thing this afternoon." Sirius huffed. "She ordered me to the Death Chamber and my partner to the Time Room while she searched alone in the Space Chamber."
He gave her an odd look. "Needless to say, I found you hours later, unconscious on the floor in the Space Chamber. Your vital signs seemed to be all right, except for your unconscious state, which struck me as too coincidental, being like I was. I wanted to protect you, help you if I could—if you were like me, if the same thing that had happened to me, happened to you. I thought that perhaps you were from my universe, so I carried you to the Minister’s office. But upon awaking, you were very much different... from either the Hermione from my place or from the previous one here. You were too… different."
Sirius’ gaze at her changed to a warm, contemplative one. "You looked at me as if you couldn’t believe I existed… And there was a sadness and shock there that I’ve never seen before. By anyone."
Hermione’s heart started pounding; she became dully anxious to avoid telling him bluntly why she’d been so shocked. You’re dead in my universe! Her brow furrowed in thought as she deliberately changed the subject. "So you also can’t remember—you don’t know who it was who hexed you from your original universe?"
"Unlike you, I do!" Sirius sat up straight on the edge of the sofa, excited. "I didn’t see him actually do it, but I know I was ambushed there by my fucking bastard partner, Marcus Flint, but of course can’t prove it—the problem is that here, he’s lauded as an outstanding Auror by everyone, as some bloody war hero or such."
A sharp pain went through Hermione’s head, and she winced.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she stretched back, feeling a heavy grogginess come upon her, the dull throbbing in her temples growing stronger, "just it would be difficult to prove your partner in your universe did it, and why would he?"
Sirius became taciturn. After a few seconds, he replied, "I don’t know."
"Could it possibly have been anyone else?"
"It could be anybody. I’m not well liked, there or here—apart from among my personal friends that is…. I’ve been called foolhardy and impulsive all my life—not characteristics that inspire loyalty among my colleagues. In addition, I happen to have been promoted to Head Auror here, above others who were no doubt hoping for the role for themselves. There would be many who would be eager to have me, um, disappear…"
The throbbing in her head increased in a flash as Hermione unwillingly remembered Bellatrix Lestrange’s triumphant screeching of ‘I killed Sirius Black’ and her mad gloating laughter in the Death Chamber on that horrible day Sirius went through the Veil. She stared at Sirius in consternation, and he met her gaze, curious.
They both fell silent, looking at one another, and then an unforeseen warmth enveloped Hermione as she suddenly felt grateful that somehow one Sirius Black was here in front of her, alive and well. She gave him a bittersweet smile; he wasn’t supposed to be real, but he was.
In that second, she felt an overwhelming need to help him, help him get back to his universe as well as she to hers. She knew she would help him however she could, that they would help each other—for it appeared that that was all they had—each other.
Sirius apparently saw some change in her demeanour and asked, "Are you alright? Perhaps we should go to bed."
She started at this and he quickly corrected, "That you should get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow."
He gave her a cheeky grin. "But first, please finish your sandwich—you don’t want to hurt Kreacher’s feelings, I’m sure."
She gave him a small smile as she sat up. He looked relieved when she also started snacking on a few pastries and grapes and joined her.
There was a peaceful silence between them as they sipped and supped in front of the fireplace.
As she nibbled on a cinnamon tart, letting her mind just focus on the here and now, she tried not to notice his bared chest showing through his half-unbuttoned shirt, displaying the indistinct tattooed design on his taut sculpted chest. She looked away, back to the fireplace, confused by the rush of emotion running through her.
Her troubled eyes gave Sirius another fleeting glance. He held more answers.
Quietly, she asked, "But how did you end up here exactly? Before you were hexed, what were you doing in the Space Room?"
"In my world… so many things are similar to here, as they surely are in your universe. Me and my partner had been called in, given secret clearance and permission to search the Department of Mysteries to search for a thief and a murderer. A nasty piece of work—violent and Dark. By a real bastard." Sirius bit his cheeks in surly reflection. "My partner for the patrol that day, a Snivellus-looking recruit—"
"Like Snape?"
Black looked like he would spit. "Yeah. Just like here, like today when you arrived, it was Marcus Flint. Another Snivellus, if there ever was one."
Hermione’s jaw muscles tensed as she gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. The word grated on her nerves, but she could not remember why.
"What is it, Granger? What’s upset you—the mention of Snape? Or Flint? You’re remembering something?"
"I—I don’t know," she whispered tersely, her head throbbing. "No… I can’t remember."
Several seconds passed by and then the pain stopped as quickly as it had begun.
Hermione opened her eyes and found Sirius’ grey ones peering deep into hers, haunted and glinting with suppressed secrets. He was so close to her.
"I-I’m fine. It’s passed. It hurt like hell for a bit, but it has stopped now." Her voice was soft and whispered.
As they held each other’s gaze in tense silence, she couldn’t ignore his dilated pupils or the darkening look as he took in her flushed countenance. She felt herself grow warm being in such close proximity to him. And such close scrutiny. Such intimate scrutiny.
Again, she could not help but notice his lithe form, his lean muscular chest exposed up close now from the tunic’s opening. She was near enough to see the tattooed patterns in detail as well as his dark chest hair forming and trailing downward in what could only be a very distinct treasure trail. Hermione instinctively gave a fleeting glance downwards, immediately regretting it as she heard Sirius gently tease, "Like what you see, Granger?"
The air had changed, something sultry and electrical seemed to fill the space, and Hermione was only aware of her breathing becoming exigent and pronounced as her chest began to rise and fall in a heavy slower motion.
She stuck her chin out. "What did you say?"
Sirius swept his long hair out of his eyes and decisively spelled it out again. "I said, sweetheart, do you like what you see?"
Hermione blinked at Sirius, embarrassed. As he boldly moved over, sitting closer to her, she protested, "Don’t—please, don’t call me sweetheart."
This seemed to keep Sirius in check, and he searched his thoughts about something. "Even here in this place and time?" He swallowed hard and bit his inner cheeks. "You have no feelings for me in your universe?"
"Feelings?" Hermione blinked, her eyes wide at the truth her brain wanted to scream, but her heart urged her to keep quiet, keep it secret; it would be too brutal, perhaps too devastating for Sirius, and she needed his cooperation, his full objective cooperation. Surely being told you’re dead, even in another time and place, would be withering to his ego—Who knows how he would react? But another part of Hermione felt he should be told the truth from her reality. You’re dead where I come from!
"No," she said quietly, shaking her head, unable to tell him the absolute truth. "No, no feelings. Well, not those sorts of feelings… I mean, I admired you greatly," Sirius raised an eyebrow at this, "You were kind to me, funny, brave, and I’ve always felt terrible that you were seriously wronged for most of your life." And I was only fifteen when you died! "But no, erm, never any romantic feelings…"
"Romantic feelings?" Sirius’ features softened. "Yes, I gathered as much."
He reached out and brushed her hair back again, letting his fingertips linger longer than needed, outlining the softness of her cheek, her delicate chin, before lowering his hand.
Sirius held her gaze and softly shared, "This is very difficult for me on many levels, you see, Auror Granger. In my time—universe—" His voice became husky. "I’m quite attracted to you. Ever since we began working together in the Auror department—and right before I left there, you’d given me reason to believe it was mutual."
He lowered his head as if he was going to kiss her and Hermione jolted back.
"Dead!" she blurted out.
Sirius froze. Then slowly he straightened up and cocked his head slightly. "Sorry, didn’t quite catch that… WHAT?"
Hermione shook her head. Like a slow motion Muggle film, she again recalled memories of her fifth year at Hogwarts leading up to that horrid day in the Department of Mysteries, in the Death Chamber, when Sirius went through the Veil.
Huffing in disbelief, Sirius rose and stiffly walked over to the fireplace, leaning forward with his hands on the wide mantle, heavy in thought.
Sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, he stared into the flames and asked quietly, "So, Remus, Tonks… and me? The final battle—Voldemort got me?"
"No. No, it was… It was before that… in the Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix… Your cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, hit you with a curse, and you went—you fell through the Veil."
Frozen, Sirius made no movement, and Hermione couldn’t bear him having his back to her and rose, crossing over to stand by the mantle near him. She gently placed a hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch and turn around to her. The flames from the fireplace threw shadows on his somber features, but also cast a light across his eyes full of torment and passion.
His voice hoarse with emotion, Sirius rasped out softly, "So, of course I mean nothing to you—I don’t exist. I died before we became… before you grew up into the incredible witch that you are. Before you transferred to the Auror department, before we... got to know each other as colleagues, as friends… as potential lovers. I’m dead. Already dead to you."
                                                           oOoOoOo
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Parallel Dilemma