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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
- 3
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- 5
Chapter Four: Revelations                Parallel Dilemma    by nagandsev
Summary: Hermione starts to discover and piece together clues about her case as well as discovering more about her Investigative team—Parkinson, Flint, and Head Auror Black, who is having trouble keeping his personal feelings and impulses from interfering with his professional ones. Hermione tries to keep focused on maligned Portkeys, ancient wizards, and keep her distracting feelings at bay—both the job-related and the Sirius-related ones.
A/N: I can never thank enough the one and only Proulxes for her talented and caring beta help and guidance with this chapter, in particular, as well the entire version of this story. She knows what questions to make me answer and keenly nudges me to dig deeper—her contributions and wisdom have been food for the soul and my Muse, which again, I am so very thankful for!
                                                           oOoOoOo
Hermione placed the parchments, book, and astrolabe down on her desk in her doppelganger’s office and gave an appreciative look around.
There were shelves of books to the ceiling, and in one corner area, she saw what was obviously Flint’s workspace, filled with an exotic assortment of neatly aligned quills beside an impressive Slytherin-crested paperweight atop a tidy stack of old documents.
She then noticed other piles and parchments on a center table with objects of different shapes and sizes lying in front. Some of the curios glimmered beckoningly, but others were dull or crusted as if charred and chiseled objects of olden times.
"What—what is all this?" she asked quietly.
Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "All of your research items have been moved here from your former office, Hermione, and placed exactly how they were there. Flint and I oversaw everything. Nothing should be amiss—is there something wrong?"
"No," she lied. "No, just, um, I didn’t expect such a thorough, thoughtful job—no unpacking to do." She gave a weak forced smile to Kingsley and then to Marcus, who was sitting very still on the edge of his desk, arms folded and watching her.
"This had been left opened on your desk before—before you went down to the Department of Mysteries last evening…" He handed her a small black box.
Hermione didn't recognise it, though it was obvious that she was expected to. She took and gazed upon the ordinary looking box as Kingsley suggested, "Perhaps you want to check the contents... I took the precaution of sealing them within, Hermione." Kingsley lowered his voice, instructing, "To open, just tap with wand and say 'Stoatshead Hill’."
Hermione smiled at the password, remembering Kingsley's passion for Quidditch. "Thank you, Minister."
Kingsley smiled back. "Good to have you back in top form, Granger. Then, I’ll leave you two to get on with your work." And with that, Shacklebolt left them.
Flint watched Hermione as she slowly walked toward the middle table. One glimmering dark glass-like figure drew her attention in particular. Something gleamed deep red inside.
"I wouldn’t touch that one yet—I’m not quite finished," she heard him say in a warning voice.
Hermione looked up at Marcus who neutrally asked, "Remember?"
A sensation, a realization of not remembering, not being able to associate the items with anything relevant washed over her as her temples throbbed in a dull pain and she stared into Marcus’ eyes for some clue to what he asked.
I can’t remember… I don’t know what I’m supposed to remember! Each time he says that, I feel… numb, go blank…
She had to shake her head ‘no’.
"It’s alright, Granger. You don’t need to remember… I’ll take care of it for you. For us."
He whipped out his wand and sent a soaring hex at the strange stone, which sparked momentarily and then went dark and charred like the others. "That’s what you have me for, your top Hit Wizard, right?" He gave an odd look to her and then sent another hex at another stone: the brief burning emitted a muffled shrieking sound before going dead.
"What—what was that? What did you just do, Flint?"
"Safety measure. Dark objects with powerful enchantments, Granger. It needed to be destroyed—I do the dirty work, remember?"
Her head throbbed again in pain.
"Dark Objects? Why—" She stopped herself and slowly backed away from him to turn back to her desk. "I need… I need to refresh my notes."
"You do that, Granger. And I’ll just update my paperwork as well, but first—" She heard hexes cast one after the other. She couldn’t suppress a small shudder as she sat down and tried not to give Marcus much attention while questions swam about in her mind. What were he and the other Hermione doing? What signifies those objects? Why are they even here?
An uncanny feeling arose in her as she heard him send yet another hex and then cross over to his own workspace, shuffling objects and parchments around, opening and closing drawers. Looking over to the center table, she saw that all of the stones were now completely charred.
Hermione's hands shook slightly as she moved the ancient astrolabe from the Time Chamber to one side of her desk and made a small space between the parchments, placing the book Constellations of the Magical Heavens on top of them. Hermione drew out her wand, tapped and whispered the spell Kingsley had told her, unsealing the little black box, and opened it.
Inside were a few parchments and a similar object as those that Flint had hexed behind her, a large amulet of sorts. Or so it seemed—It’s larger and bulky—it’s like an object for … I don’t know … like a Portkey or something to contain magic within.
She shuddered again, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over her. Keep focused! All of this meant something special to the other Hermione. Focus! Focus! Focus!
She took out the parchments, unrolled one and read, ‘Found in Space Room’. It must relate to this, she thought touching the charred object.
She put it down and unrolled another parchment, recognizing the handwriting as being Shacklebolt’s. He had listed several book titles as ‘kept in the Ministry’s Restricted Section’. Skimming over it quickly, she sat up straight realizing they were all Dark Magic titles: Sonnets of a Sorcerer, Secrets of the Darkest Art, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Confronting the Faceless, Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia, Magick Moste Evile—These last two titles were encircled in red ink.
Hermione blinked as something resonated about one of them, Magicke Moste Evile.
"Horcruxes!" she whispered aloud.
"What did you say, Granger?" asked Marcus, cocking his head.
"Nothing, Flint, just thinking aloud."
Something sparked inside her and she took and opened Constellations of the Magical Heavens.
This book was also in the Restricted Section here, the other Hermione needed it, or so Flint said… but it’s not on this list…
A flash of nostalgia hit her, remembering the first time she had ever seen the book with her Sirius so long ago, in another lifetime, and she impulsively whipped out her wand and shrunk it with a quick Diminuendo. She felt an instinctive need to keep it near to her and placed it in her jacket’s inner pocket. I’ll reread it this evening when—her attention was caught by the parchment that had lay underneath it. Inventory of confiscated and returned books… It’s signed ‘M. Flint’. She compared it with Shacklebolt’s list and noted that the two books that Shacklebolt had encircled were missing on Flint’s.
She rechecked the lists again. What was I—am I looking for? What’s the connection?
Her eyes smarted as she summed up her inner most concentration. Dark magic books, Ronald’s death—here, that is… Dark objects with powerful enchantments, perhaps maligned Portkeys, she bit her lower lip, intensely worried, Horcruxes? But why did the other Hermione need a Divination and Astrology book?

                                                              oOoOoOo

Hermione's neck was stiff from her reading position at her desk. She gave Marcus a fleeting glance across the room; he was concentrating heavily on the extra parchments she had given him, quietly and earnestly double-checking everything she had written in a daily report so far. It had to be near mid-afternoon, and they had both been working without a break.
Hermione had spent every minute reading methodically through and making order of all the various other parchments on her desk collected by the other Hermione. A pattern of content had appeared. A very unsettling one. Dark objects—enchantments placed on the objects... intentions? To protect the wearer in the case of Dark amulets, to prevent damage to the object itself, to transport as by a Portkey... Hermione stopped and stared at her note. To transport?
I need access to these Dark magic books!
"Flint," she announced, getting up stiffly, "I need to go down to the Restricted Section—I need access to a few books."
"The Restricted Section? Books?" He bluntly asked, "Why?"
"Because I do," she replied, a bit irked as her stomach rumbled. "There’s a discrepancy between these lists—I need access to these books encircled."
"Discrepancy, Granger?" questioned Marcus, getting up and crossing over to her. He looked over the list she handed him. "We might get access, but you know the policy—for research access only. You’re unable to take them out."
"There are two books not listed here," she pointed to the book titles Magick Moste Evile and Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia.
Flint seemed unperturbed. "Well, that is obviously some outdated list—I’ve made the most current one. It was given and confirmed by our top source. Just today in fact."
"The Minister?"
"No, our Unspeakable. Parkinson." Marcus gave Hermione an odd look. "Pansy Parkinson, remember?"
Hermione blinked. Our Unspeakable Parkinson?… No, I don’t. She looked away from Flint, trying to piece together her thoughts again. The list… the list!
Suddenly irritated, she replied, "Of course I know who Pansy is." She huffed, "Has the Minister ever given you a list?"
"The Minister? Why would he, Granger? As if the Minister doesn’t have better things to do than make a library list," he scoffed, "That’s what all of us minions are for."
Everything Flint was saying rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. "It’s not a library list. It was purposely—" Hermione stopped herself in time. There’s a reason why Kingsley gave me the list and hasn’t given Flint one. Patience, patience.
"I need to go to the Restricted Section," she repeated, "So I’m going."
Flint was visibly miffed. "Well, I’m going with you."
"I think I can manage checking out a book or two."
"It depends on the book—the ones on this list are not allowed out of the Restricted Section’s privacy room, and you don’t know what you’ll be handling—it’s my job to remove curses from Dark objects," he insisted belligerently. "So if you go, I go with you."
Stalemated, Hermione glared at Marcus. "Let me take some things with me." Wand waving, Hermione Diminuendoed the little black box, filled once again with the charred object and parchments, and throwing her cloak around her shoulders, she put it in an inner pocket and grabbed Shacklebolt's book list. "Ready!"
Marcus smiled strangely at her before gesturing for the door. "Shall we?"

                                                     oOoOoOo

The air seemed heavy with foreboding for Hermione as they reached the eighth level and exited the lift, making their way to a dark alcove, designating the Restricted Section's perimeters.
From the shadows a figure appeared, asking, "Who wishes to enter?"
Before she could speak, Marcus answered, "Granger and Flint."
The figure stepped into the black marble corridor's sconced light, revealing a tall, slender, but very curvaceous witch, wearing a skin-tight bodysuit. The veenecked front showed off its revealing décolleté with a pendent laying strategically above a pushed up cleavage.
"Granger and Flint? What an unexpected pleasure—how may I help you?" It was Pansy Parkinson. She arched a black penciled-in eyebrow, accentuating her heavily painted face.
Hermione blinked as she heard Marcus inhale sharply and become very alert, standing up to his full height, gazing admirably at Pansy. "I—we—I need the custodian of the Restricted Section. I need access to some books," she managed to say, showing Parkinson the two encircled titles on Shacklebolt's list.
Parkinson's expression was neutral. "I am your custodian for all of your needs." Her gaze at Hermione turned heavy as she said, "Remember?"
Hermione became very still.
Pansy suddenly seemed amused by something only she knew, explaining, "The Minister assigned me to be your Unspeakable support, to internally guard and appropriately aid you, as needed. That includes the Department of Mysteries’ chambers as well as any other normally forbidden room, such as being given direct access to the Restricted Section on your behalf by our dear Shacklebolt. You need only ask and I’ll give you what you need." Pansy smiled at Marcus. "As your specially assigned Unspeakable, your secrets are safe with me."
Pansy motioned to them, saying, "Follow me." Slowly, they went through the shadowed area into a brighter lit but formidably enclosed atrium.
Directly across the atrium space was an opening to an inner chamber. Hermione noted the opened, gilded outer doors with a high relief of an unfamiliar but portentous figure above the archway.
This is so very different from the Restricted Section I know in my Ministry… It feels much more ominous and oppressive, she thought, stopping and staring at the projecting image above the passageway. "Parkinson, who is that supposed to be?"
Pansy raised an eyebrow in astonishment at Hermione. "That? How could you not know?"
"It’s the father and protector of all pure knowledge, sorcery knowledge, that is, Granger. Herpo the Great," cut in Marcus defensively. "Perhaps being a Mu—" He stopped himself in the second as if he’d bit his tongue, but then continued, "I’m sure Muggle-borns are not so familiar with this esoteric, great practitioner of magic."
Hermione face burned red; she felt a humiliation she had not felt so deeply for a long time—she felt as if she were fourteen years old again and Draco Malfoy had just called her a Mudblood with her Marcus Flint and the other Slytherin cronies sneering and laughing at her on the Quidditch field of Hogwarts years ago.
The day she learnt what the word Mudblood meant.
The day she learnt why some wizards believed they were better than others.
Hermione took a step into Marcus and faced him off squarely.
"I know who the ancient Greek wizard Herpo was, Flint," she tried to control her voice from rising in emotion, "But you’ve got your facts wrong—he’s not as esoteric as you believe him to be. All wizards know him for what he was: a Dark Wizard, a Parselmouth, a breeder of the first Basilisks and an inventor of vile curses, of—of –," she couldn’t help herself and blurted out, "—of Horcruxes and other evil curses!"
Marcus looked liked he was biting his cheeks in restraint as she added, "And his name isn’t Herpo the Great, it is Herpo the Foul!"
Hermione turned to Pansy who was staring curiously at her and bluntly added, "Why there is a high relief of him here in the Ministry of Magic is beyond me!"
Marcus defensively spouted out, "Because, regardless of what you and others like you may feel, he was one of the earliest, greatest wizards—"
"Dark Wizard, Flint—call him what he was!"
Belligerently refusing to, but continuing to force his point, Marcus repeated, "—earliest, greatest wizards, and his work is a vital, lasting aspect of magic even today!"
Marcus’ chest was rising and falling as he contentiously argued, "Where would you be, any of us be, Granger, today if not for him? Hmm? Everything you are as a witch, a defender of the good—everything we hold near and dear and wish to keep near and dear is because of him—his contribution to magic… Without it, how could we defend ourselves against the Dark Arts? It takes Dark magic to fight Dark magic, yes?"
As Hermione stared at Marcus feeling shocked and not knowing what to say, conflicted by seeing him, this universe’s Marcus, as if for the first time, Parkinson chimed in, saying, "You two can argue History on your own time—I have rounds to make below on the ninth floor soon."
Seemingly bored, she turned to Hermione and asked, "Do you wish to enter now or come back tomorrow?"
Cheeks still burning with outrage, Hermione took a deep breath and focused. "Now, Parkinson." She turned to Flint, vexed. "You can stay here—I don’t need your help!"
Marcus gave a look to Pansy and then back to Hermione. He contemplated something and said, "We don’t have to agree about everything; in my opinion, it’s better that we don’t. I’m a professional, Auror Granger, and you’re my partner, and it’s my job to go with you and… help you. So with all due respect, I’m going in with you whether you want me to or not."
Hermione bit her tongue as the thoughts ‘I won’t be forgetting this, Flint!’ ran through her mind, before saying, "Very well. Let’s go."
Hermione looked again at the Restricted Room’s gloomy entrance and felt as if she were about to enter a mausoleum of sorts, her unease increasing as Parkinson insisted, "Your wand, Granger, give it to me. No wands allowed."
"What about Flint’s?"
Pansy’s eyes shone with amusement again as she concurred, "Absolutely. Auror Flint?"
Hermione couldn’t help but notice Marcus and Pansy exchange self-satisfied smiles.
However, Parkinson’s mirth disappeared as she instructed, "You may Summon the books you need, verbally, but a warning: if you wish to harm any book, the hex will be ricocheted back on you. There is a special quill which will only write on the preset parchments for note taking. If you attempt to mark a book, the quill will alert me. You have been warned."
Hermione’s mouth went dry as a fanatical zeal gleamed in Pansy’s eyes, but she managed to utter, "Understood."
Marcus nodded in agreement, and they both proceeded to walk through the large doorway. What Hermione perceived at first as a slab of dark stone immediately barricading further entrance was, in fact, a walled façade, forcing her and Flint to go right, entering the inner chamber. Immediately to their left, two lit sconces threw light over an ancient table and two chairs. Hermione went forward a few steps taking in the shelves of portentous Dark tomes.
"Which first, Granger?"
Her throat felt parched in the dry claustrophobic space, and she hesitated. There was a strange aural effect in the circular room of muffled whispers emanating and softly soughing.
She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, gulped and said, "Magicke Moste Evile."
Flint’s eyes flashed and he waved his hand, concentrating directly towards the dark shelves.
Within seconds, a heavy old book flew and landed on the table.
"Wait, Granger," Flint’s eyes seemed to roll back briefly before closing them entirely shut and his mouth moved, contorted with inaudible words.
The book’s pages quivered and then a soft whiff of light caused the pages to flutter animatedly before ceasing all movement.
Marcus’ eyes opened and he said, "Alright, Granger—it’s safe. You can touch it."
Hermione was momentarily speechless, registering Flint’s skill with nonverbal, wandless magic, before managing to utter, "Thank you, Flint."
She tentatively took the book, sitting, and turned toward the back, remembering where she had found information years before when she helped Harry out. She reread the references mentioning Horcruxes and then turned and scanned through pages, searching for possessed amulets, Portkeys, talismans, Time-Turners—anything that could be used to propel a wizard through time and space.
Finding a detailed section about enchanted Portkeys, she immersed herself into taking notes on the given parchment with the special quill.
"And what about your partner, Granger?" piped up Marcus. "Not going to throw a dog a bone?"
Startled, Hermione looked up. "What?"
"Anything I can do, Granger?"
True, she had forgotten about him, being so absorbed and concentrated on copying down as many facts as quickly as possible. But Marcus sat stoically, patiently, causing Hermione to offer, "Um, Flint, perhaps you could look for possessed objects, anything and everything that catches your attention in the book Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia.
Marcus stared at her for a few seconds before responding, "Very well, Granger." He turned and motioned for the book to come to him. Nothing did. He appeared to Summon it again, and again, nothing happened.
"What’s wrong?"
"It seems that it is not here. How about another one?"
"Not here? But it has to be here." She tried herself. "Accio Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia!"
Nothing happened.
That is, nothing inside the Restricted Section room; however, suddenly, heated shouting was heard from the outer atrium. First, it was Pansy’s voice, and then followed a male voice, demanding, "Give it to me—now!", and a sound of a loud hex followed.
Hermione gave Marcus a quick look, grabbed her parchments, and they both ran out to see what all the commotion was about.
What they met was an irate Sirius and equally furious Pansy glaring at each other.
Hermione cried out, "What is going on?"
Sirius was breathing heavy, as if he’d been outrunning a Hippogriff, and barely could answer, "I’ll tell you what is going on, Investigative Auror Granger—I’ve just been searching the entire bloody Department of Mysteries for you! In case you have forgot, it hasn’t been the safest of places lately, and then, I find that you’re without your wand. Parkinson of all people has it—"
"It’s called protocol, you boor—"
"Don’t talk to me about protocol—it’s called ‘questionable authority’, Parkinson! You’re an Unspeakable, not an Auror—"
"You’re not my superior, Sirius Black!" snarled Pansy viciously. "You have no authority over me—"
"Granger is your superior in this little special hierarchy that the Minister’s created here—"
"So—"
"So Granger must have her wand at all times—bottom line! She’s an exception to any bloody rules you may make up for Merlin-only-knows-what reasons, just to strut about like a—" Sirius stopped and controlled himself, before continuing, "Let me remind you all again why Minister Shacklebolt has grouped us all together. It is so that A: no one need be alone at any time or without any back up during any stage of this investigation, B: Unspeakable Parkinson is to internally guard and appropriately aid you two, which means," he gave an exasperated huff as he looked at Pansy, "that everyone one else in our little party is your superior… and C: Hit Wizard Flint, as Granger’s partner and external back up, will notify me of each and every step of the investigation and how you will be assisting."
Black gave Flint a tense look. "You should have brought me the day’s report, thus far, as well as informed me you were going to the Restricted Section. If I remember correctly, you failed to do so on the day of Weasley’s death. There’s a breach of protocol," he gave Pansy a hawkish look, and then to Marcus, "One that you’ll not make again, Flint, or even Shacklebolt won’t be able to keep you on this case—understood?"
The atrium became so still one could hear a pin drop.
Sirius handed Hermione her wand back that he had evidently confiscated from Parkinson and ordered, "Upstairs, Granger! My office. Right now."
"My, my—I do so love your dominant side, Head Auror Black. Don’t you, Granger?" gibed Pansy.
"Mind your mouth, Parkinson," warned Sirius, suddenly dangerously cool.
"Or what, you’ll make me?" Pansy cackled in such a crazed way as to give Bellatrix Lestrange a run for her money.
For a second, Hermione felt fear for Sirius, so fierce was Marcus’ expression as he stepped in front of Pansy, saying, "I think you need to take Granger and go upstairs, Black."
This seemed to push Sirius’ pugnacious buttons at full tilt, as Hermione saw him literally challenge Flint, face to face, saying, "You’re telling me what to do, Flint? Your superior? Hmm?"
Hermione couldn’t breathe as she watched Marcus’ complexion turn several shades of red, about to explode with volatile suppression.
"Sirius!" Hermione quickly corrected herself. "Head Auror Black!" You hotheaded, petulant—what has got into him?
Trying to defuse the situation, she quickly stammered, "I agree—I think we need to go upstairs and further discuss what is so out of line that you—you…" Her voice faltered as Sirius turned to her with such a mixture of pain and disbelief in his eyes that it made her completely speechless.
"Then I’ll explain it to you, in detail," he said, his voice now somewhat calmer, "Come with me, Granger." Sirius abruptly walked in the direction of the lift as Hermione searched for what to say to Parkinson and Flint, who watched her with odd expressions.
"I’ll be back, Parkinson—tomorrow. Alright?" She took a few steps before turning back and asking, "Could you check for the whereabouts of a missing book, Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia? It wasn't in the Restricted Section and it should be—Flint, could you catch her up on things?"
Marcus cocked his head slightly and assured her, "Absolutely, Granger. I'll fill her in on all the details."

                                                       oOoOoOo

Hermione entered the lift. She could feel Sirius’ volatile energy radiating from him.
Neither spoke as they started to ascend through the intricate shafts of the Ministry.
Hermione gave Sirius a cool look before turning back and staring at a scruffy mark on lift's doors. He seemed to still be quite stirred up but was fuming silently, holding it all in.
Hermione told herself she didn't care how or what he was feeling.
How was I to know that I needed—Flint needed—to tell him where we were going? Every bloody step? It's ridiculous... But then she remembered what Sirius had reminded them about ‘… you failed to do so on the day of Weasley’s death…’
Alright, it's a dangerous Wonderland I'm in—there's still some phantom intruder at large. I know that all too well! But it was just a minor slip up—he didn't need to sweep in and interrupt my research in such a manner as—
Suddenly, Sirius slammed the emergency button and the lift jerked to a halt.
Hermione waited, breathless, as Sirius searched her face for an answer to a question she didn't know.
After staring each other down for several seconds, she challenged, "What?"
Sirius backed up against the lift's other side, just looking at her as if she should know.
Pissed off at Sirius, a flare of anger swelling uncontrollably up, she resented feeling inadequate in anyway. It's been a long day, a hard day—trying to catch up and make sense of what is going on in this universe, basically being called a Mudblood by my irritating but very skilled Slytherin partner—and having to see and be dependent on Pansy Parkinson of all people!
"It was one slip up on Flint's part—"
"Don't make excuses for that git—he knows better; he's had more than a fair chance—"
"I was in the thick of it—gathering vital facts!"
"Your phantom intruder is still at large, Auror Granger, or have you forgotten what has happened to us—"
"No, I haven't forgotten—"
"Have you forgotten that I've lost partners, both here and there—Weasley, Moody was murdered—"
"Of course I haven't forgotten—how can you even suggest that? I'm trying to solve the problem, not avoid it—"
"Are you saying that I'm avoiding—that I'm a coward?"
"Oh good heavens, Sirius, of course I'm not saying that!"
"Then use your head, Hermione, think! Be careful—if that slippery pillock Flint can't follow basic safety procedures after all that has happened... "
He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I went to your office and you weren't there. Auror guards in the main atrium hadn't seen you leave the Ministry. I searched the Department of Mysteries and was afraid—afraid I would find you—I thought something happened to you, Hermione. Do you understand?" His voice was full of raw emotion. "I don't want you—"
"I'm not a child, Sirius Black!"
"Trust me, I know you're not a child, Granger—"
"Oh, do you, Black? Why don't you show me then—"
She didn't finish her sentence. Sirius' lips had stopped her words.
Shocked and surprised, she only knew the pressure, the urgency of his kiss, pressing and searching, hard and deep. His lips were firmly, hungrily urging hers, and his moustache's whiskers sent a tingling, tickling sensation to course through her to her very core.
She felt him tentatively touching her around the waist. Instinctively, she pressed into him, breathing in his musky scent, encouraging him to touch her further, with more certainty and need. I want him to... Their teeth awkwardly hit as their need to taste and touch each other impulsively grew more desperate and needy... and irresistibly necessary, expressing to each other what they could not in words.
She felt his hand slowly brush and outline her body upwards—her nipples hardened to his touch, and then she could feel his fingertips stroke across the contours of her breasts, gently stroking up along the sensitive skin of her neck to caress her cheek before breaking off contact.
Hermione was panting softly as he drew back his head, gaging her response.
Then, he broke off full contact and slowly stepped back.
"I'm sorry. Sorry. This is so difficult," he confessed, conflicted, and Hermione knew that he wasn't referring to the case.
We got to know each other as colleagues, as friends… as potential lovers, remembered Hermione.
Just as mixed-up, she offered, "It's all right, Sirius."
"Is it, Hermione?" he replied bitterly.
They stared at each other.
Hermione's heart was thumping wildly in her chest.
And then with a quick movement, Sirius punched the button again and the lift continued upwards.
Neither spoke as the lift stopped and they stepped out.
Feeling confused and contrite, Hermione said, "Oh, we got off on the wrong stop. This isn't our office level."
"No, it's the right stop—at least," Sirius stopped and sighed in frustration. Then he straightened up, visibly attempting to make an about-face. "I had wanted to ask you out for a late lunch. That's why I initially went looking for you, but—"
Sirius' jaw muscles clenched in tension.
"If you can forgive me, forgive my impetuous actions and words of the past ten minutes..." He stopped and tried again. "How about a bit of fresh air and a bite to eat, Granger? I know it'd do me some good. How about you? Would you care to join me? Please."
She could see he was still all rumpled and stirred up, but was trying his best to put his best foot forward, so she let him know that all was forgiven as she smiled and gently teased, "Yes, Head Auror Black."
"Thank you, Auror Granger." He tilted his head a bit; his dark eyes framed by his dark long bangs were sad and full of remorse, affecting her.
She felt a warmth flush over and inside her, thinking of what had just happened on the lift and how she wasn’t sorry that it had happened—for she now felt an irresistible tug towards him. She wanted to kiss him again, touch him… Any reservations of who they were, where they each had come from… had been breached, and any hesitation evaporated from her psyche for the time being. Perhaps… perhaps we could… No, it’s happening too fast, too soon… and… and…Yes, this is difficult… And she wasn’t thinking of the case.
They made their way through the Ministry of Magic's busy entrance atrium to the fireplaces connected to its Floo network. As they slowly approached a fireplace, Sirius cleared his throat. "May I choose the place?"
"Certainly. By all means—only once we get there, I have so much to tell you." She was beaming with excitement to share with him all of information she had pieced together.
Hmm, maybe it would be better if we just went home—to Grimmauld Place? Kreacher could bring us a meal like yesterday, and we could sit together on the sofa and...
Suddenly her thoughts were no longer solely on sharing her paperwork with him but... I've never been kissed by a man with a moustache... I liked the way it, um, tickled me...
Sirius' voice brought her back to the moment. "Hermione? I'm all yours. Then, er," he hesitated as he opened an arm, inviting Hermione to stand close to him, "Shall we, together?"
Another wave of heat washed over her as she and Sirius instinctively touched, stepping into the Floo together. He whisked her away, and within seconds, she was stepping out and blinking her eyes, adjusting to an old but comfortable sight.
Sirius grinned. "The Leaky Cauldron."
Hermione was a little taken aback as several people around one of the larger tables started to come and greet her. In a blur, she recognized Neville's smiling face, replaced by his wife, Hannah's, replaced by Dean's, Seamus', Ginny's.
"I thought a familiar place might be a welcoming sight," whispered Sirius concerned. "Do things look the same?"
"Yes, it's still the same, but Sirius—" She was cut off by none other than Harry coming forward and hugging her as if he'd never let go, and she continued to spend the next hour overwhelmed with supressed emotions as person after person welcomed her with warm embraces, smothering hugs, and caught her up on their lives.
In the middle of what was the second or third round of drinks, Neville kept repeating, "You're back, you're back!", echoed by Harry, who sat on her left side, proclaiming, "Yes, she's back!"
Hermione gave Sirius a tense look but tried to make light of the strange feeling she was having to their reactions, teasing Harry back, "Where have I been?"
"Ron would have wanted you to move on, Hermione," spilled out Ginny, becoming all teary-eyed in her, by now, tipsy state, "It's good to have you back to your old self. I'll tell mum and dad you're ready—"
"Ginny, no!" She must have said it a little too vehemently, because Ginny appeared shocked and hurt. Hermione tried to gloss over it. "I mean... I'm in the middle of a very important... After we close this case... It's still too much, too soon." She looked at Sirius on her right, sitting at the table's head, whose eyes burned with regret—or was it bitterness? She needed another ally in the group and turned to Harry on her left. "You understand, Harry, don't you?"
The look he gave her was one of patience. "Of course I do, Hermione. We'll be looking forward to a big get together at The Burrow when you finish. When you're ready. It'll do us all some good. Promise?"
"Promise," she answered, forcing a smile.
This seemed to appease everyone, and the general discussion relaxed into miscellaneous this and that conversation.
Sitting there, absorbing it all in, Hermione felt incredibly exhausted and confused. They were all people she knew but didn't know; she felt like a horrid imposter of the most despicable degree. I'm not the Hermione they think I am!
Suddenly she heard Sirius whisper in her ear, "I'm sorry."
She turned her head and her lips brushed his cheek as he drew back. She felt her cheeks grow warm from the near contact but felt even more flustered as she saw his eyes burn with regret. "I thought—I thought you would like this—it'd be something nice for you."
"It is—it is nice... It's just—so much was discovered today. I want—no, I need to share with you my discoveries as soon as possible, and I can't here—"
"Here you go, Granger," announced Hannah as she placed another drink in front of her. "One more toast, everyone—Here's to our Hermione!"
"I really shouldn't, everyone. I have work to do—I have—" Harry gave her a look, and she forced herself to toast along with them.
There was a roar of noisy proposals from everyone toasting, and Hermione was seized by a dire need to escape. Sirius must have seen how overwhelmed she was feeling as she heard him offer, "Would you like to leave?"
She nodded emphatically. "It's just too much!"
Sirius took action immediately, rising and whispering something in Harry's ear.
Harry gave Hermione an understanding smile, saying, "Just go—get some rest—we'll be in touch soon."
Sirius announced, "Everyone, it's been lovely, but we have to get back to work—duty calls!"
Among the good-natured protests, Hermione assured her friends as Sirius and she made their way back to the Floo, "I'll keep in touch—as soon as this case is over, we'll do this again—it's a promise!"
Pacifying everyone with this, she turned with Sirius back toward the fireplace. Her head throbbed with too much information and emotions from the day's cumulative events, and as she felt Sirius standing beside her, she looked up at him and asked, "Can we just go home?"
"Absolutely, Hermione." He gathered her into his arms and Flooed them back to Grimmauld Place.
Hermione felt a flood of relief of being once again inside its walls. Feeling her tension melt away, she brushed an ash from her sleeve and heard Sirius say once again, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"I thought... I thought it was what you needed. To see the others."
She saw the disappointment in his face and immediately explained, "Sirius, it was so thoughtful of you... It was wonderful, seeing everyone like that; it's just—there's so much I've discovered today, related to us—to our dilemma."
Standing near him so close, looking up into his gentle dark eyes and the affection she knew they held for her, was dangerously tempting her to lean forward and initiate what he had broken off in the lift. Business, Hermione! Focus! You have to show him what you've found!
She took off her cloak and plopped down on the sofa, taking out her wand and the little black box. Casting an Engorgio charm on it, she said, "I need to show you what I've brought from the office. You'll understand why it's urgent that I show you—"
Suddenly, a strained siren sound came from the Floo, and they heard Shacklebolt's voice reverberating: "Code Black. Repeat: Code Black. Bourgin and Burkes. Code Black."
Sirius looked alarmed for the briefest second before snapping to full attention, wand whipped out and in alert mode. A fierceness marked his features again as he vehemently grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and ordered, "Don't leave here for anything in the world! Do you understand? Stay right here!"
And before Hermione had time to protest, he bolted for and threw himself into the Floo and disappeared.

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Parallel Dilemma