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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Parallel Dilemma by nagandsev
Chapter Six: Elicitations
Summary: Partial truths and feelings are drawn out; both Hermione and Sirius connect more of what has happened to them in the past and present, sharing a common memory, as well as discovering their undeniable current connection.
A/N: Hermione quotes phrases from the English playwright and poet William Congreve: "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," spoken by Zara in Act III, Scene VIII, The Mourning Bride (1697). My deepest gratitude to the one and only proulxes for her alpha/beta work on this story and continued guidance and specific feedback on each and every chapter—thank you!
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I remember!
"Don’t touch me!" She pushed against the man holding her and cried out, "You can’t make me—you won’t force me, control me! You can’t! I won’t let you!"
Where am I?
"I’m not him…You’ve had a nightmare, Hermione—stay with me—you’re awake; it was a dream. You’ve had a fright from a dream, love."
She knew that voice. She knew him.
"Sirius?" She blinked, feeling dazed, alarmed, her heart pounding, but it dawned on her where she currently was, who he was—I was dreaming, a nightmare—Sirius, he’s real!
His face was so pale, but his eyes burned in concern.
She realized she was panting hard, her heart thumping harder. "It is you, Sirius?"
"Yes, Hermione. It’s me. You’re safe. He can’t harm you anymore."
"Who?"
Sirius spoke quietly, calmly, "You tell me. His name. I must have the name: Who do you remember? What do you remember?"
She clenched her eyes, straining to express it. "Say it again. Say it again, Sirius!"
"What?"
"That word ‘remember’—say it!"
"Remember."
And there it was. Hermione sobbed. She clutched Sirius. Something had cracked inside her mind, opened in her will—a chink of clarity cast light on the greyness, on the muddled thoughts held captive within her. A throb of lucid strength went through her.
Something solid. Safe. She was being held in Sirius’ arms, in a protective hold. She felt his muscles flex under her fingertips and buried her forehead on his shoulder covered by fluffy bathrobe material.
"Coercere amnestos!" she whispered.
"What—?" Sirius’ body rippled as if in a spasm.
"Sirius?" She raised her head so that she could look at him only to find he had his eyes shut tight.
"That curse!" He opened his eyes slowly, looking at her, pained. "How do you know it?"
"I don’t—just now. I remember, and there are others, but I can’t remember them—can’t verbalise them. I think—" She was caught between tears and exhilaration, crying, "Conduits! He hexed me, used me as a… conduit, a vessel, my body..."
Her thoughts jumped as she remembered the obvious. Sirius suffered the same by someone! Someone did this to him as well!
She touched him delicately on the chest, as if to make sure again he was real. "Your body—we were conduits for a magical current of energy and force—a corporeal current through time and space."
Sirius’ face darkened with intensity. "Who? Hermione, who did this to you? I need you to say his name. That’s all." He was squeezing her upper arms so tight, her eyes smarted with tears.
Suddenly, Hermione pushed away from Sirius and pressed her back against the headboard, straining to remember. With eyes clenched tight, she shook her head, and the tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I can’t… I can’t!" A wave of nausea rolled over her. "I know it was him—but I can’t say his name, identify him—what is wrong with me?"
"It’s all right," he assured her calmly, and she could see he struggled to stay controlled, as his following words signified his true emotion. "That fucking bastard Confunded—Obliviated—erased, selectively took a part or parts of your memory—What else did the fucking scum do to you?" whispered Sirius vehemently to himself.
Hermione couldn’t answer, and she saw Sirius raise a fisted hand to his mouth and a flash of fury in his eyes, and then his struggle and resolve not to lose control, asking in a hoarse voice, "Then, the place—where were you? Can you give me any context to go by? If you’re unable to tell me who—can you describe anything else?"
"Darkness. Floating… I was floating… stars, constellations… Then I was speeding through—flowing through space," she shook her head, struggling to recall the sensation, "like through a dark tunnel, on a long, long flowing slide, but he… he was so heavy, on me, in me—as if we were one… one form, one energy moving through time and space." The last words were spoken in a hushed whisper.
Sirius’ dark grey eyes were stormy and shining with moistness as he stared at her in compassion. Hermione felt his inability to speak and found herself reaching out and their fingers gently touching, intertwining, silently comforting each other, holding hands.
They sat like that, just being with each other as time ticked on until Hermione opened her eyes wide and groped for her wand, suddenly highly agitated. She Accioed the book Constellations of the Magical Heavens along with the objects she had brought from the Ministry but hadn’t yet shown Sirius.
Within seconds the items landed on the rumpled bed in front of them.
Sirius stared at them, then Hermione, his expression weighed down with care.
"The other Hermione had already collected a number of objects related to this universe’s phantom intruder—she’s left clues for us," explained Hermione slowly, "She must have been near to solving a working hypothesis, in the process of verifying it when we switched."
Sirius didn’t say anything but carefully picked up the charred object. He held it up towards the sconced lighting, studying it.
"Do you recognize it?
Sirius blinked in consternation, finally answering, "It seems familiar… As if—I’ve seen it before—but that’s impossible, isn’t it? It’s almost like a pendant, an amulet for wearing…"
For wearing? thought Hermione. Her brow furrowed in concentration. I’ve seen one recently… not a burnt one, but…The image of tall, slender figure appeared, a curvaceous witch, wearing a skin-tight bodysuit, a revealing décolleté with a pendent laying strategically above an accented cleavage. "Pansy."
Sirius scowled. "Parkinson?"
Hermione made as if to shake the image from her. "She was wearing one… an unusual pendant. But that’s not an uncommon thing for a witch to wear, is it?"
Sirius suddenly rubbed his face as if to clear his thoughts, and Hermione felt something was… off.
"Sirius, you reacted a bit strongly about her when you first heard that she was assigned to us, and today at the Ministry, the hostility was, well, barely controllable, mutually volatile."
Sirius huffed, but gave no reply.
Hermione felt compelled to find out. "What—what happened between you two in your universe?"
"Nothing. Nothing, in mine." A stubborn look overtook him. "Well, there was a time when she seemed to be, er, infatuated with me—she’d just begun at the Ministry and was fawning over anyone and everyone in high positions when she could, even over that bloody Flint—not that it took much flattery to latch on to him, but… He didn’t seem to return her interest for very long. I don’t know—she disappeared, I think." He shrugged. "I heard different rumours—vicariously that she had left the continent for a Foreign Office position or had taken unconditional vows, Unbreakable Vows, sequestered as an Unspeakable of sorts, deep in the belly of the beast—in the Department of Mysteries—in the Time Room? Or was it the Love Room? I’ve never thought much about her since."
Hermione remembered how Marcus had looked at Pansy today and how Pansy could have murdered Sirius with her eyes. She softly quoted, "‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.’" Sirius gave her a puzzled look, which caused her to spell out, "A witch rejected in love can be very angry and very dangerous."
Sirius’ jaws clenched. "Alright, then. In my world she threw herself at me, continuously, and in the most, erm, provocative way… Witches like her, they make me—let’s just say I have an adverse reaction to them, like to my cousin Bellatrix. And you know how fond we were of each other… She loved me to death," he dryly commented, his eyes flashing dangerously with the renewed memory of Bellatrix having succeeded in her ultimate goal of finally murdering him in one universe.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up."
"You have nothing to be sorry about—ever," he whispered vehemently. Taking a moment, he admitted through gritted teeth, "However, the Sirius here seems to have been, um, more unscrupulous than me—there seems to have been some reconnaissance work of sorts in the interim shortly following the war involving the Pansy here and him." He let out a deep sigh.
"All I have is a jotted note ‘found in Space Chamber’. Could it be related to her?" speculated Hermione in a small voice and showed him the small parchment from the box. "I’m assuming it refers to this charred amulet, as it was the only object in the box." Sirius still remained silent. "What is it, Sirius?"
"It’s familiar… but I can’t place it. It’s burnt beyond recognition."
"Yes, I know. I wish Marcus had left them alone—at least until I had time to catch up on everything—"
"Flint?" Sirius’ eyes flashed with a dangerous look.
"He was—he was destroying this and other amulet-like objects in our office. He said it was for safety measures. He needed to destroy Dark objects with powerful enchantments." Hermione shivered. "It reminded me of when we tried to destroy Horcruxes…"
Sirius leapt off the bed and began pacing, only to stop abruptly. "Horcruxes?" He spat out, "Fucking Horcruxes? Voldemort’s legacy to his continued admirers."
"And this book…" She held up Constellations of the Magical Heavens. "At first, I wondered why it wasn’t on Shacklebolt’s list, or rather, why it was considered a Dark book—"
Ruffled, he snatched it and gave it a quick, recognized glance. "Of course, it’s full of Dark magic tips and tales. I’d know it anyplace. Regulus and I were bred and raised on these books—"
"But it seemed so harmless when you showed me it before—"
"When I what?" The look Sirius gave her was one of incredibility.
"When you—" Hermione stopped herself. That was the other Sirius, my Sirius—of course he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. She shook her head, "It’s not important. It’s—"
"You almost fell. That old rickety chair, cursed to be irreparable," said Sirius softly. He gazed at her bittersweetly.
"You—we—have a shared memory? It also happened in your universe?"
Calmer, Sirius slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Constellations of the Magical Heavens, gazing almost reverently at it in his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he shared, "You were kind, very kind to me, keeping me company in my insomniac state—my recollections of Divination classes were something of particular amusement to you, having survived Sybill’s classes… Your laughter that evening was music to my ears. I was deeply glad to make you smile; it had been a long time since anyone enjoyed my company."
He gave her a soft look, then something occurred to him and he slowly opened the book, "But this book wouldn’t have been in my family if it wasn’t Dark… Yessss," he hissed softly as he thumbed his way to the back. "Herpo the Great, his teachings were lauded and spoon-fed to me as early as I can remember." Sirius’ face muscles clenched. "Dark Astrology, Dark Arithmancy, Dark Divination…" He clucked disapproval as his pointer finger skimmed quickly, suddenly stopping and tapping at a reference. "For example, Herpo the Great—"
He said it again! Hermione couldn’t help herself and corrected him. "You mean Herpo the Foul."
Not understanding her dismay, he slowly sidled closer to her, resting against the grand pillowed headboard beside her, showing the page. "Nah, any Dark wizard worth his salt knows him as Herpo the Great. He was—"
"I know who he was." She suddenly shuddered. "You’re not a Dark wizard, Sirius, no matter—" Her eyes had become moist with emotion.
"Hermione?"
"Marcus also referred to him as Herpo the Great. Insisted on it."
Sirius’ mood darkened immediately. "Flint? What else did he say?"
Flustered, Hermione started to hem and haw. "Flint just—well he… Well, he started to call me a Mudblood, but stopped himself in time—"
"WHAT?"
"He's extremely skilled at wandless magic..."
Fuming, Sirius frowned. "As am I. What of it?"
"No, it's—I mean—powerfully so." Before Sirius could comment, she added, "He can place counter-curses on Dark objects—the book that I Summoned in the Restricted Section, he didn't let me touch it until he had removed any Dark charm or harmful agent from it." Her face scrunched as she recalled Flint's actions. "It was as if he was suctioning the dark power."
"To where?"
"What?"
"Transferrence of dark energy from a dark object goes from one matter into another."
Suddenly dreamlike, Hermione whispered, "Magicke Moste Evile. Flint’s eyes flashed and with a wave of his hand and an inaudible spell, the curse within the book—the energy of it whiffed out... It had been removed. He knew how, nonverbally—I've never experienced anything like it."
"The Dark energy was channeled somewhere," insisted Sirius as he rolled the charred object in his hand. "Was Flint wearing a pendant too? Like Parkinson?"
Hermione’s eyes widened at the possible parallel. "I—I don’t know." She tried to remember how Marcus was dressed. "Flint was wearing a high turtleneck. Dressed neutrally. Unlike Pansy."
"Parkinson and Flint..." Visibly miffed, Sirius huffed. "I used nonverbal magic before I could walk or talk—removing spells from Dark books is child's play. There's more to it than Flint flexing his ability... What else did the bloody git say about Herpo?"
"He was very adamant about the ancient wizard, reveres him as the father of all magic."
"Well," started Sirius, only to stop, contemplating the conundrum. After a few seconds of consideration, he reminded her, "There isn’t Light and Dark magic; it is how we choose to use it that makes it Dark or Light."
"I think Flint has other beliefs about that, what constitutes magic and who has the right to use it. You didn’t see him—didn’t hear how he spoke about it." She shuddered.
"So he reveres Herpo only—or the bastard worships him?" demanded Sirius darkly.
"Sirius?"
"I don’t know exactly how yet—but I know it was him that cursed you—that bastard—I’ll end his miserable life if it’s the last thing I do before I allow him to further harm you!"
Sirius spoke so vehemently that a flashback of Sirius yelling at Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack came to Hermione. ‘I would have died! I would have died rather than betray my friends!’ flew through her mind. He would have murdered Pettigrew if Harry hadn’t stopped him.
"But the proof! The proof, Sirius—we have to have concrete evidence… before accusing or confronting anyone… And… and Flint could have killed me many times—"
"He doesn’t want you dead; he needs you alive."
She was speechless by his remark, and seeing her shock, Sirius thumped the page. "This coerced amnesia and conduit curses… The selective memories that you’ve been able to recall from your traumatic experience—the victim—the conduit must be alive. Otherwise, you’re useless to him... the object must be living to be used and useful."
"And what about you? If, hypothetically, it was Flint," she swallowed hard, her breathing was becoming shallow and she started to feel lightheaded, "who used me, who attacked you? Was it Flint or… Parkinson in your universe?"
Sirius’ facial muscles clenched in thought; his eyes darkening as he forced himself to admit, "I can’t remember." With a bitter twist to his lips, Sirius handed her the opened page. "But this is why the Hermione here had this book, Constellations of the Magical Heavens; she’d discovered one of the phantom intruder’s dirty little secrets."
Hermione slowly read aloud, "'As referenced in Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia, through revered and vile sacrifice Herpo the Great invented such methods and processes for sojourning the constellations. In order to do so, the vital component must be a conduit by which a wizard must use living creatures as their current to help transport themselves in time and space. Naturally, a wizard or witch would be the most desired and most powerful conduit one could use being Magical creatures, but needless to say, they would also be the most elusive to procure. Regardless, the final incantation after several sources have been attained is Portus Constellatio.'"
"Yes, that’s it!" Hermione scooted closer to Sirius, and he gave her a curious glance as she inadvertently brushed against him, showing him the paragraph.
Hermione repeated, "'Through… vile sacrifice Herpo the Foul invented such methods and processes for sojourning the constellations.'"
She pressed her head back against the pillowed headboard, lethargical, and the book fell from her hands into her lap. She closed her eyes, pensive, whispering, "And the counter-spells? There must be a way—anything done by Dark magic can be undone… reversed—we must find that book!"
"Which book?" asked Sirius quietly.
"Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia," replied Hermione, opening her eyes again. "All references that we have so far, all clues lead to Herpo the Foul’s work. Or rather I need to be able to cross-reference and understand his ‘inventions’—the conduit wizard or witch," she took in a deep breath, "is the vital component, but that extract mentions ‘after several sources have been attained’. I must get a hold of that book!"
Hermione felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion roll over her and clenched her eyes again as a single tear rolled down her cheek, thinking of the futility of their predicament. She felt Sirius moving and opened her eyes enough to see him stand up and carry something back over from a low chest of drawers. It was a small tray with food and tea.
"Eat something, then rest; we’ll continue this," he nodded at the items of discovery scattered on the bed as he placed the breakfast tray at the foot of it, "afterwards. I’d awoken way earlier this morning, before your nightmarish recall; Kreacher was en garde beside the bed, insistent that I take more Blood Replenishing potion and some nourishment—" Sirius gave a small smile. "He was also insistent to keep me in your lovely soft bathrobe—that I not be allowed to dress myself. Blocked every attempt for me to either transfigure clothing or summon anything. He said it was on the Mistress’ orders." His eyes twinkled in amusement.
Seeing the food, an automatic rumble in her tummy was heard; she realized how depleted she was of energy, and she could feel her cheeks turning red from his gentle teasing. In defence, she pointed out, "You were delirious last night. Stubborn and delirious, determined to leave—you would have Flooed yourself in harm’s way or splinched yourself or worse. I had to keep you here… safe. Protect you from yourself, Sirius Black."
"And you? Kreacher told me all about it."
Hermione gave him a puzzled look.
"You don’t seem much better than I was." Sirius’ gaze suddenly became fixated on her body. "That’s my dried blood on you?"
She followed his gaze and saw her clothing, stained. "Yes. You—you took the hex meant for me. A Sectumsempra. You could have died."
Sirius sat on the bed again and quietly confessed, "Of course, I took it for you. I would die for my friends—for those I love—for you."
Hermione felt her body flush warm as Sirius leaned closer to her, his voice husky with emotion, saying, "I’d die a thousand times over for you and more."
Then, their lips met.
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Parallel Dilemma