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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
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- 3
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Chapter Three: Tribulations by nagandsev
Summary: The evening entails a discussion of parallel universes, ‘thin places’, biker chicks, and sleep. Hermione and Sirius resume their roles at the Ministry, only to find themselves in another taxing situation.

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We got to know each other as colleagues, as friends… as potential lovers? thought Hermione slowly, letting Sirius’ perception of them, the Hermione he knew in his universe, sink in.
The seconds ticked by in silence.
Sirius stared at Hermione with a pained look in his eyes, conflicted, and then he started to say something else to her, but changed his mind. He turned back to the burning flames in the fireplace, and Hermione frantically searched her mind for any coherent answers to this unbelievable predicament. In the heat of the moment, she felt Sirius’ distress and forgot her own.
"Multiverses!" blurted Hermione.
Sirius blinked. "Sorry. Multi-what?"
She waved an arm impatiently. “Multiverses. Many Muggle scientists believe that our universe – well, each one’s universe – exist in parallel to each other... and that there are points at which they touch.”
The look he gave her was uncomprehending. "They… touch," he repeated slowly.
"Yes!" Hermione's heart was beginning to thud in her chest again. "It's also quite a common metaphor in Celtic Christian theory. Some theologians call where they touch 'thin places' – although in this case it's more to do with the relationship between Christian ideas about heaven and earth—"
She broke off as Sirius shook his head, his face twisted reflexively in confused disbelief. "Sorry, sweetheart, still don’t get it… Divination wasn’t my thing."
Hermione huffed impatiently, drumming her fingers on the warm oak of the mantlepiece. "Nor mine. It’s not Divination; it’s—" She stopped. How to get Sirius to understand?

Her eyes roved again around the well-ordered room, filled with her knickknacks and mementos from a life that she had not lived. But apparently another Hermione had. A Hermione that Sirius knew well.
She huffed, excited, but tried to explain slowly to him, "Okay, forget Muggle spirituality. Multiverses. As I started to say before, many Muggle scientists believe that our universe… well, each one’s universe—yours and mine…" Sirius was biting his cheeks, tense, and visibly seemed to be trying to keep his impulses in check, impatient. He began to pace, but Hermione pressed on, determined that he understand. "The point is, there’s a theory that states that many universes exist parallel to each other."
Hermione bit her lower lip in concentration. Yes! This could be it! But how did it happen to us? "These distinct universes within the multiverse theory are called parallel universes."
Sirius made a disparaging noise. "Parallel– what? Look, you've suffered a gods-awful shock, Granger. I don't bloody know what got me here, but I can tell you I've tried to do everything, to find out everything I could think of to get back home - from the Hall of Mysteries to fucking soothsayers in Knockturn Alley... I've talked to every shade of weirdo you can think of, run the risk of being suspended for psychological evaluation by Shacklebolt, and ultimately I've found myself back where I started! It all comes down to the same fucking thing in the end, sweetheart...." He stared at her as he spoke, and for a moment she saw a flash of near madness in his eyes.
She took an involuntary step backwards. "But—"
"—But nothing!" he spat. "We're trapped here. That's a fact. I know it, because I can feel it, here," he thumped his chest for emphasis. Again, she saw that wildness in him, barely constrained, and felt an odd lurching in her chest. There was almost a desperation to him now, like an animal trapped in a cage.
He must have seen the alarm that she was feeling reflected in her face, because suddenly he drew back and took a deep breath, calming himself with a visible effort before her.
"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly, his eyes darting to the fire again. "Don't usually lose it like that."
She took a step towards him, impulsively placing her hand on his arm. "Sirius, listen. A few believe that it’s possible to contact these parallel universes, to jump from one to the other, but maybe it’s a point to start at, for us—we can help each other work this out, to return to where we’re supposed to be, you see?"
He was concentrating on her in a way that was making it difficult for Hermione to keep her train of thought. She became aware of how close he was to her, his chest rising and falling, his bare forearm hot beneath her fingers. His eyes flashed with suppressed emotion as he confessed, "After all this time... it’s... just difficult for me to hear what you’re saying, sweetheart. I think..." His Adam’s apple bobbed as he paused, deliberating something. His stance was taut and tight, like a panther ready to pounce. She stood, still and tense before him, conscious of the flexing of her fingers on his pale skin, the scent of his skin in her nostrils. One heartbeat... two. His throat convulsed again and for a moment she thought he was leaning towards her—
Abruptly, his head jerked upwards and his arm fell away from her to his side. Then he flashed her that quick, cocky smile she remembered from her youth and cleared his throat. "I think," he repeated, his voice lighter and stronger than before. "I think we should go to bed—that you should get some sleep. We can continue talking in the morning."
Hermione gaped at him. "But...," she started to say as he brusquely turned away from her, making his way to the hallway, saying, "Don’t know about you, but my head’s about to explode if we talk anymore about Divination—but a good night’s sleep and I’ll be all ready and willing in the morning—I’ll check the bedroom situation upstairs, alright, kiddo?" Before she could answer him, Sirius had already disappeared up to the first floor.
What the hell—? she thought, baffled by his sudden mood changes. One minute he's as upset as I am about this bloody situation, the next he's bouncing about wanting us to get some sleep! She shook her head, remembering how Molly and Arthur had once tried to correct his impetuosity, that Snape had scorned him for it. She remembered how he had stared at her when she mentioned the possibility of travelling between different universes. He had looked almost unhinged for a moment.
She suddenly wondered how safe she was with him, feeling unconsciously in her pocket for the reassuring weight of her wand. Finding it, she breathed easier.
She could hear him walking around upstairs... the muffled sound of a cupboard door being opened and shut again. He had offered her no violence, only help and support. She thought about the look on his face as he had insisted that she eat, his warm hand on hers as he passed her the wine. The feel of his skin beneath her fingertips by the fireplace.
He's Harry’s Godfather, she thought to herself sternly. He would never hurt you. You're probably still in shock, and you need to sleep if you're going to sort this situation out and get home. Now get a bloody grip and follow him upstairs.
"Sirius?" she called, as she reached the first floor landing. "It’s vital that we have a common understanding before we interact with others further—before we go to the Ministry tomorrow. If I’m going to be able to face Shacklebolt convincingly and all the others under a disguise of being her—the Hermione that they all expect to recognize, then—"
Hermione froze. She had stopped in front of the opened doorway on the left, and what she saw, slightly unnerved her. Ron’s things?
She stepped into the room. Looking around, she saw Gryffindor as well a whole realia of Quidditch paraphernalia decorating the walls. It was definitely Ron’s bedroom; besides the Gryffindor bed covering, Hermione spotted Ron’s personal things. She walked over to a card-album and slowly opened it, revealing Ron’s old Chocolate Frog card collection from when they were children. Hermione’s throat tightened up as she closed her eyes and reminded herself, Your Ronald is well and alive!
"Hermione?" Sirius had returned from down the hall. He was carrying blue fluffy towels folded in his arms.
She closed the card-album and turned to him. He seemed embarrassed as he offered, "I thought you might like a bath... or a shower, or something. Sorry, I wasn’t sure whose room was which. I’ve actually never been in this room, as is." He swallowed hard. "I was only here in this Grimmauld Place one time before I… before Weasley… I immediately moved to one of the Ministry’s Auror hide-outs." Sirius looked around assessing. "But it seems like Weasley pretty much had similar taste like my ginger partner did." Sirius turned and closed the door slightly. "Yup. Same taste." He let out a cheeky grin, seeing something humorous.
Hermione took a step, looking around his side and let out an ‘Oh’. On the back of the door were multiple Muggle posters of half-clad women in suggestive positions on various Harley Davidsons.
Hermione’s raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Really? My Ronald would never have these—" Demeaning, objectification of women things—ever! She wanted to say, but didn’t. "Ron is not into biker chicks."
Sirius grinned, amused, but nodded in agreement with her. "You’re right. Absolutely. I’m sure your Weasley is right as rain, true blue. However, this Weasley seems to have been very much like mine. You see, Harry and Weasley were, um, very curious about bikers." Hermione’s eyebrow went higher.
"So I did the only thing I could do, and took them to a bikers club that I’m an honorary member of." Hermione pursed her lips. "Harry didn’t care much for it, you know, being raised by Muggles, but Ronnie boy, uff, let’s just say, it made quite an impression on him. Fun times."
Hermione frowned. "Sirius, I also grew up with Muggles, and for your information, they are not primarily half-naked motorcyclist straddling—" She became flustered and felt her cheeks reddening as she noted one model in a poster straddling a leather seat in bliss. "Well, they are not all like that!" she snapped.
Sirius gave her a curious look. "I know, Granger. I think the Weasley here, like in my wor—universe, um, was really into Muggle things, like his Dad. Um, from what I understand, Harry, Ron and I lived together for a few years here, a sort of a crash pad for mates—"
"You mean a bachelors pad," she quipped, shuddering.
Sirius smirked, "Nah, nothing awful like that—just three wizards who hadn’t found their life partners yet. But that quickly changed—Harry soon married Ginny, living back at The Burrow, and once Ron became engaged to you, I stayed around at various Auror nests. The lone wolf." His mouth twisted sardonically. "This place was to be yours," his eyes saddened, "Truth be told, I’ve always hated this bloody house; it was a horrible place to grow up in. Like in my world, having wonderful mates at school helped me endure it and forget things… temporarily, but…"
His voice faded off as he looked around at the room again. He abruptly changed the subject. "Shall I show you your room? I think I've found the main bedchamber. It looks like a lady’s room, anyway. Here, down the hall."
Hermione followed Sirius slowly out of Ron’s room, thinking, So, Grimmauld Place was always something horrible for Sirius? She felt dizzy a bit as an on-rush of questions washed over her. Who is this Sirius exactly? How much more was his life similar to my Sirius’? Different?
Her thoughts were cut off as she entered the room at the end of the hall, a large bed chamber with an en suite bathroom off to the left. Hermione felt a sharp tingle course through her. It was her room, rather, her ideal room—her style, her favourite colours—if she could choose her perfect bedroom, this was it! She slowly walked over to the four-poster bed, gasping softly.
Sirius placed the blue towels self-consciously down on the bed covers and cleared his throat. "Well, then. I’ll leave you to it. Erm, it looks as if the bathroom is adequately supplied with anything and everything to meet all your needs. The Hermione here seems to have kept it well-stocked."
Hermione suddenly felt exhausted. It was all too much. The Hermione here! Where is she now? Is she in my universe? In Sirius’? The room started to move a bit. He was right. She needed sleep. And fast. If this was still where she would be when she awoke, she would continue questioning it all, but for now… "Sirius?"
His eyes gleamed with expectation as she said, "Thank you. For everything. And you’re right."
"I am? About what?"
"We need to go to bed." He looked amused. "Sleep. We’ll continue this in the morning then?"
He was looking at her with an odd look she couldn’t make out as she continued. "We need to be in agreement about everything. I need you—" She stopped. "I need you, to face Shacklebolt convincingly."
Sirius gave her a sad smile. He seemed to sway forwards for a moment, but then he stopped, stood straighter, and his smile took on a more dashing and cocky flair. "We need each other, kid," he said. "Don’t worry; everything is going to be all right."
As Sirius turned to leave, Hermione had a last moment of inspiration. She grabbed at his arm and caught it, causing him to turn once more to face her. "Sirius? We’ll need to get further access to the Department of Mysteries. I think the first place to start is requesting access to the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries’ archives, their Restricted Section, Azkaban records of—"
His eyes danced in the pale light of the bedroom, and he covered her hand on his arm with his own. It was roughened with callouses and very warm. "Shhh, that’s enough—it’ll all be waiting for you in the morning. Sleep, Hermione, rest. I’m here, call me if you need me—I’ll be in the room on the right side—the old study has a comfortable lounge couch. And don’t worry, the Ministry is the one thing that has stayed consistent. Unperturbedly impervious. Always there, same as it ever was. Sleep, sweetheart."
Hermione rolled her tired eyes and almost protested again about the sweetheart calling, but as she started to speak, Sirius lowered his head.
There was a second, just a second, when Hermione thought he was going to kiss her on the lips.
But he moved his head and kissed her on the cheek, saying in a low voice, "Call me if you need me. For anything." Then he left.

                                                        oOoOoOo
Hermione's hands shook slightly as she placed an ancient astrolabe checked out from the Time Chamber onto the Head Auror’s desk. She clamped down on her emotions ruthlessly, telling herself to focus, focus, focus!, as she turned and addressed Shacklebolt directly. "I’ll also need time to evaluate and match any corresponding Arithmantic coordinates of the Space Chamber with the deciphered Runes, theoretically formulated, regarding the distances between planets."
The Minister raised a brow and gave Sirius a look for affirmation on what he was hearing. But the Head Auror only shrugged and crossed his arms against his chest as he sat on the edge of his desk while Granger continued to list out what she needed to proceed further into the investigation.
"Anything else, Granger?" Kingsley asked.
"No, that’s all for now, Minister. Although once I’ve narrowed it down, I’ll officially request additional access to these Chambers." She pointed at a list of parchment on the desk. "We’ll need access to the Time Chamber, Space Chamber, and if necessary, the Death Chamber, as well as any other chamber that may prove relevant for Head Auror Black and myself."
"Very well. Then I’ll leave the two of you to get to it. You’ll let me know what else you need, I’m sure, if something else should arise. And Granger—Hermione—be careful." Kingsley turned and headed towards the door to leave, but turned back right before he left to say, "By the way, I’m more than pleased that the two of you have, um, worked out your differences."
"Head Auror Black and I have come to a... an agreement of sorts, a professional understanding."
Kingsley gave Sirius a stern look. But as he watched Black, who appeared busy checking his immaculate fingernails, seemingly bored, his momentary concern dissipated, and he said, "Right then, Granger." He duplicated her parchment with a quick Geminio spell and said, "I’ll also be assigning an Unspeakable to internally guard and appropriately aid you two, as needed. I don’t want anyone to be alone at any time. Unspeakable Parkinson and Hit Wizard Flint, as external back up, will also be assisting you."
Marcus Flint? registered Hermione slowly.
"Parkinson?" barked out Sirius. "That traitor's daughter? I thought she'd left the country!"
"Sirius, you’re not one to be calling names; the past is the past!" Shacklebolt reminded him sternly. "Miss Parkinson has an untarnished reputation in her present position, as far as her work record goes, assigned to the Department of Mysteries. She’s proven herself very loyal, Sirius, just like you. Whatever happened between you two after Voldemort’s demise, well… that’s water under the bridge now and classified."
She couldn't stop herself; Hermione shot a quick, questioning look at Sirius.
"It wasn’t me—it was the other Sirius," he hissed back, and Hermione could have kicked herself.
"What was the other Sirius?" Shacklebolt asked sharply.
"Well, you know," offered Sirius nonchalantly, "the other Sirius, the spy."
Kingsley sighed. "I know, I know, it was the job, the undercover work, Black. You were only doing what you had to do to get information from her."
Sirius nodded, clearly playing the part, and Hermione turned back to the astrolabe to prevent the Minister from seeing the flush in her cheeks.
Then the Minister pointed out, "And Flint has been invaluable."
"I know he has, here," grumbled Sirius under his breath so she could hear him. "A war hero… Just—there’s something—" He cleared his throat and raised his voice for Shackebolt's benefit. "This isn’t an appropriate assignment for him, Minister."
"Give me a reason, Sirius, one good reason for not assigning him to you," challenged Shacklebolt, urging him to speak his mind. Hermione could tell from Kingsley's body language, that he was used to Sirius objecting to his decisions. She fought a smile – just the same as in her world....
"I don’t like him."
"Besides that?" Kingsley waited, expecting something more.
"I don’t trust him."
"And why not? What has he done to you?"
Sirius made to answer and Hermione immediately realised the danger. She moved her foot to the side and carefully trod on his boot.
Sirius bit his cheeks, not answering. Silence ensued and Hermione waited with her heart thumping loudly. Don’t blow this Sirius! We need time! If you tell him the truth, everything will be shut down, and we’ll be incarcerated, interrogated, never left alone for a minute—stuck here for good!
"Nothing." He shrugged again. "He’s just a slippery-looking berk if you ask me. Always will be." He flashed Kingsley a cheeky grin.
The Minister sighed. "Sirius, when will you boys ever learn to get along? If that’s what this is about, then I’ll make sure he’s permanently assigned to you."
A knock was heard on the door, and Kingsley called out, "Enter!"
A tall muscularly built figure entered the room carrying a few ledgers and a book; Hermione recognised him immediately. She experienced once again the disconcerting sense that this person was not the man that she knew.
Hermione heard Sirius inhale in a hiss as she watched Flint cross over to Kingsley.
"Minister Shacklebolt," acknowledged Flint politely, then he turned to Sirius. "Black." Marcus hesitated momentarily before saying, "Auror Granger." He quirked his head in his peculiar way as he smiled ingratiatingly at her. "So glad to see you are up and about—the Minister told me there had been some, erm, accident?" Flint looked around to Kingsley for confirmation.
"Yeah, some accident, Flint. Where the hell were you?" snarled Sirius before Shacklebolt could respond.
Flint seemed sincerely taken aback as Kingsley intervened, saying, "That’ll do, Sirius. I’ve asked Marcus to come here so that we may informally discuss what happened last night before any official statement goes on record."
"Official statement," politely mocked Sirius. "Official statement?" His voice was rising noticeably. "With all due respect, Minister. Flint went bloody awol on patrol last night—or, since we’re all being so lovely and polite—how about, he fucking disappeared?"
"Sirius—" started Kingsley
"Sir, may I?" interjected Flint. "Minister, please?" Kingsley motioned for him to proceed.
"For the record, I did not go awol," Sirius let out a derisive sound, but Marcus continued, determined to speak his mind. "I was only following orders, which you, Auror Granger, had instructed me to do."
Hermione gazed at Marcus Flint, and for some reason, she felt more and more mesmerized by him with each word he spoke.
"You said you wished to search for the phantom intruder in the Space Chamber alone. Remember, Granger?"
Hermione started to shake her head in denial, but in a second, she nodded instead and a dull throb pulsated in her temples.
Keeping her attention focused on him, Flint continued to address her, "And you ordered Auror Black to the Death Chamber and me to the Time Room. But you called me back and sent me to attain a book from the Ministry’s Restricted Section that you needed immediately—something you wanted to urgently cross-reference—"
"Book? What bloody book?" demanded Sirius fiercely.
"This book," answered Flint through gritted teeth, offering the tome to Hermione. She gasped as she read its title: Constellations of the Magical Heavens.
"Remember?" asked Marcus softly as Hermione looked up into his eyes.
Hermione felt a sense of conflicting emotions—for the briefest moment she had a flashback, like a déjà vu, as if Marcus was standing over her, only aware of him repeating the word ‘remember’ over and over. But then the sensation was gone, and she could only answer, "Perhaps… Yes, I think so."
Satisfied, Marcus turned to Sirius and Kingsley smugly confirming, "You see?"
"And so you left her alone, just like that?" badgered Sirius.
"What was I supposed to do, Black? She ordered me to go!" argued Flint, losing his cool. "She had you to back her up, didn’t she? I thought you’d have been enough protection without me for five minutes, but obviously I was wrong!"
"But you were gone more than five minutes, Flint—where the fuck were you? What took you so long?"
At this Flint’s face flushed scarlet, and he gave Sirius a nasty sneer. "I—I went to find someone to get the book for me, since I didn't have direct access to the Restricted Section archives."
"And?" egged Sirius on.
"And I got, erm, distracted… for a few minutes."
"Ha!" guffawed Sirius, "Let me guess, you ran into our one and only resident Unspeakable Pansy Parkinson?"
Neither affirming nor denying, Flint continued, "I didn’t realize I was gone so long—it just seemed like ten or fifteen minutes… But when I went back, um, the Space Chamber was empty. The Death Chamber was empty—I realized everyone was gone." Marcus shrugged. "I went to Minister Shacklebolt’s office, but he told me to wait outside. Later, when he called me in, I was relieved to hear what had happened—that something had happened, an accident, but that everyone was alright."
"Alright?" Sirius rose slowly and crossed to Marcus stealthily. "I found Granger, unconscious on the floor in the Space Chamber. Unconscious! You slippery little shit—"
"That’s enough, Sirius, enough," cut off Kingsley sternly. "Auror Granger is back to her old self today. And we can proceed onwards. Here’s my official decision: Flint, you will continue to assist Investigative Auror Granger with her research and cross-referencing—have you a problem with that?"
"Absolutely not, sir," replied Flint eagerly, "You know I love research."
Hermione’s head throbbed, and for some reason, his words didn’t seem to ring true.
"Granger?" asked Shacklebolt, "Any problems with continuing your research and investigation with Flint as usual?"
If that’s what the other Hermione was doing, if she was okay with him, I should continue working in the same manner, with the same people.
"No, sir. Not at all."
"Head Auror Black?"
Sirius gave a fierce look at Hermione and then Marcus.
"What does that mean, research together—remind me again how exactly is Flint assisting her?"
"Contributing to solving the investigation, Black," smirked Marcus. "Cross-referencing with her, lots of literal interaction, as well as bringing her the best cup of tea or coffee that the lady would like." He smirked again and Hermione could almost feel the tension radiating between the two men.
Sirius didn’t answer. Instead he looked directly at Hermione; she pleaded with him with her eyes to go along with it.
"Very well, Minister," he bit out eventually.
"Good, Head Auror Black." Shacklebolt turned to Hermione and Marcus. "The office next to here will be used solely for this investigation—this way you two have some privacy to work in, without the interference and distractions of your old open offices. And if you need Head Auror Black’s assistance, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to oblige."
As Kingsley motioned for them to follow him out, he said, "Hermione, let’s have that list of other classified files, parchments and books you asked for, and then you and Marcus can get right to it." The Minister and Flint exited, their voices reverberating and then muffled as they apparently went into the newly assigned office next door.
As Hermione gathered parchments, book and the astrolabe, and started to hurry after them, Sirius grabbed her arm and whispered, "Don’t you dare drink anything that wanker gives you!"
"Granger, you coming? The Minister’s waiting to talk to us in private." Flint had appeared at the doorway and was staring at the couple amused. "Our office is… inspirational. You’ll find it very conducive to working together."
Hermione gave Sirius a small smile, appeasing him with, "Don’t worry. I won’t."
As Sirius let her go, he glared at Flint and informed him, "I’ll be checking in on you—often. So don’t get too comfortable there, Flint."
Flint smiled cordially at Hermione as she passed.
Turning his back to Sirius without replying, neither she nor Sirius saw Flint’s sinister grimace as he followed Hermione, watching her every step.

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Parallel Dilemma