Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Sands of Destiny	By : amidtheflowers Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Sirius/Hermione Views: 8603 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its respective characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This plot line, however, belongs to me. No money or profit are made from writing this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven

The Runaway

If Hermione was given the chance, she would probably think he was stunning. And not in the typical 'ruggedly handsome' stunning—no, Sirius pretty much had that department covered—but in the eccentric, elusive, uncertain way that made you wonder if he would smile while breaking your neck.

But considering she was inside a school at the moment, she did not need to worry about snapped vertebrae.

Still, she could not prevent the immediate spike of apprehension upon meeting him. His robes and loosely slung green and silver tie indicated that he was a Slytherin. The smirk on his face told her that she would not be leaving any time soon.

Hermione glanced down at the plate that had fallen to an untimely death, scattering bits of food all around them. "You made me drop my plate," she stated.

A smile curled his lips and he tilted his head, but said nothing. He continued to stare at her until Hermione glanced away and took out her wand. She repaired the broken plate, then levitated the scraps of food back onto it. A quick scourgify cleaned the mess, and within seconds the plate was back in her hand and a scowl on her face. "The least you can do is bring this back to the Great Hall."

The boy's smile widened and took a step towards her. Hermione held her ground, even as he leaned in towards her. She felt his breath, which smelled like mint, as he said softly, "You smell nice. Perfume?"

Hermione backed away with a glare. "Forget it. I'll take the plate myself. Go find someone else to taunt."

She stopped when he grabbed her arm and spun her back around. She nearly lost balance of the plate and glared at him even more as he held on to her. "Now hold on just a minute," he sounded a little offended, "I'm not done yet."

"Well I am," she said plaintively. "Let me go or I'll drop this all on you."

His eyes flickered to the plate and for a second she thought he would release her. He raised his eyes back to hers and she felt the weight of the plate vanish and she gave a startled intake of breath. She had not noticed him taking out his wand, but evidently he had used it and sent it spiraling down the hallway in the direction of the Great Hall.

He gave her a smile and Hermione frowned. "What on earth do you want?" she hissed.

He smiled wide. "A bit of fun."

"Scabior?"

A voice broke the silence and she turned to see Regulus giving them a curious look. "You were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago."

"I got distracted," the boy she assumed was called Scabior said with a shrug. "And I'd like to get to know this bird here, so if you don't mind," he made a shooing gesture with an annoyed flick of his wrist, and then reverted his attention back to Hermione.

Hermione stepped back and wrenched herself out of his grasp. "I don't think so." She gave him a calculating look before adding, "Go find someone else to bother."

"Not bloody likely," he muttered as he took a step forward, and Hermione found his persistence almost comical as she gripped her wand tightly.

Regulus shot Scabior a dark look. "Avery was asking for you."

"Tha' git is always asking for me," Scabior snapped, eyes not wavering from her. She noticed that his accent got thicker when he was speaking fast, in an agitated manner. "I'm done following 'im around."

"I don't think you quite understand. He's asking for you."

That made him pause, and for once the staring contest between him and Hermione wavered as he shot an annoyed glance at Regulus.

Making a noise of disappointment with an angry scowl, Scabior glared at Regulus sulkily. "If he's not, I'll 'ex your pretty little eyebrows off."

Regulus raised one, perhaps just to annoy him further, and Scabior began storming back to the Great Hall. When he was passing Hermione he paused, leaning down a little as he pinned her with his unmoving, kohl-rimmed eyes.

"I'll be seeing you soon, sweetness."

He left, leaving Regulus and Hermione in an awkward wake. She no longer had food to send up to Sirius, and they were both already at a strange standstill so her presence was probably unwanted regardless.

"You look a bit peaky," Regulus observed. "Cold?"

"Annoyed mostly," she said tersely. It struck her as odd that the people she should have been looking for kept finding her instead. It was unsettling. "Another friend of yours?"

"Could you tell by his natural grace and charm?"

Hermione frowned. "I thought Slytherins were supposed to hate Gryffindors."

"We do."

"Then why has each one been a little too friendly with me?" Her eyes wandered to where Scabior had retreated to down the hall and her frown deepened.

He shrugged. "You're not really a Gryffindor."

"Excuse me?"

Regulus smiled and sauntered over to her until his head was very near her own. His mouth opened to speak but he paused, his eyes slowly wandering up, up, until they were looking past the top of her head. A smile lit his face like the switch of a light bulb.

Hermione didn't even have to look to guess who Regulus was grinning at.

She didn't bother saying anything; Sirius was already in a hostile mood and being spotted, once again, with a hated sibling did little to ease the tension between Hermione and Sirius.

So when he continued down the steps and was passing them, Hermione turned her head to glance at him but said nothing.

Regulus withheld any flamboyant remarks that Hermione was certain were cooking in his Slytherin little head. He did however, flash a toothy grin and nod when Sirius's eyes briefly flickered to his, and much to Hermione's amusement, mirrored his actions.

Once Sirius was a good few feet away and still within earshot, Regulus said to Hermione loudly, "So, where were we? Right, you may stop by my dormitory any time, just make sure not to make too much noise when sneaking out—"

Hermione mouth dropped and saw Sirius stiffen in the background. Her eyes snapped back to Regulus, who was watching her smugly.

Not feeling it was worth the effort to pull out her wand and hex him, Hermione simply glared and gave him a swift kick in the shin.

The smug look disappeared instantly, and Regulus groaned in pain as he reached down to rub the front of his leg. "What are you, four?" she snapped. "Don't tempt me to do worse."

"As if you could," Regulus sneered, still grimacing.

Hermione fisted her hands into tight balls and glanced behind him. Sirius was near the entrance of the Great Hall now, his hand reaching for the knob.

It's now or never. She sidestepped Regulus and tried of thinking of things that could temporarily fix the damaged friendship between her and Sirius.

"And there it is," Regulus said as he gritted his teeth. He straightened his back, the worst of the pain in his leg gone. "But you'll never find out what you want to know about me that way."

Hermione paused. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "And what is it that you think I want to know?"

Regulus smiled but did not reply. Hermione glanced up and saw Sirius disappear behind the double doors. When she looked back at Regulus, she saw him reach inside his robes and slowly pull out a necklace, the very same one she saw him with at the Black Lake.

"I know you're curious," he said softly. "I see it in your eyes every time I see you."

Hermione blinked. "You've got to be joking."

Regulus looked at her shrewdly. "No? Then why didn't you report me in to Dumbledore? You acknowledged that this isn't ordinary magic I'm using. You saw what happened to me at the lake. And yet…" he moved closer, the necklace dangling dangerously in his hands. "You kept quiet."

Because I need you to be on my side! Hermione thought frustratedly. Obviously turning him in to the headmaster would ruin any shred friendship between them. But if she were honest with herself, Hermione didn't see a friendship between them anytime soon. The way he behaved around her (and unfortunately, when both she and Sirius were present as well) made her want to turn the other way if they crossed paths. He riled her up and she always let her guard down and let him ruffle her feathers, as he was now.

It was then, however, as her eyes followed the swishing movement of the necklace, that Hermione made a choice.

The tension in her body dissipated; her eyes wandered up to Regulus's face as she took a step forward that brought her close enough to touch the necklace by moving just an inch. As their eyes locked, Hermione said quietly, "Tell me."

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Why?" he asked with a note of haughtiness.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because clearly you want to tell me, or else we wouldn't still be here."

Regulus's face tightened a little at her statement. When he didn't respond immediately, Hermione stepped back to her original post, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "When you're ready to tell me, you know where to find me."

"Actually no, I don't," Regulus said finally, with a mildly annoyed tone.

At this Hermione smiled. "You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You'll figure it out."

xxx

"Why must you leave?"

Madam Pince shot Severus a dirty look at the volume of his question, and Snape immediately dropped his gaze and lowered his head in mock obedience. Hermione rolled her eyes and dipped her quill in the ink bottle, carefully tapping off the excess before resuming writing her last Transfiguration essay of the month.

"I can't refuse to visit my…the Potters during my first Christmas holidays," Hermione chided as she scribbled quickly on the parchment. "They've been very kind to me, and they really want me to come so…will you stop making that noise?"

Severus scoffed again, the same sound he'd been making in the entire duration of their conversation for the past ten minutes.

"Honestly," said Severus with an annoyed tone, "you will definitely not be missing anything if you choose to stay at Hogwarts."

"Just because you've decided to stay doesn't mean I have to," replied Hermione in a clipped voice. "Isn't anyone else you know staying for the break?"

Severus made a noise that was either mocking or irritated, Hermione could not tell by this point. As her eyes roved over the last sentence she had written, Hermione carefully placed the quill on the table and sighed, glancing over at the parchment in satisfaction.

"And that's it," said Hermione cheerfully, quickly screwing the ink bottle closed and packing away her books. She glanced at Severus, who was staring off into the distance with a deep frown and a scowl digging dangerously low on his forehead.

Sighing again, Hermione leaned forward in her chair. "It's not too late to change your mind about going home or not," Hermione reminded. "You should think about it. Me, you, and Lily could rendezvous sometime over the next few weeks. It'll be fun."

Severus looked at her with a dark and sullen expression, eyes glowering at her. "I'd rather not," he said softly, the faintest trace of disgust layered in his voice. "You will quickly learn that not all of us have charming 'Mr. and Mrs. Potter's to greet us at home."

Ah, yes. The vague and mysterious family background of Severus Snape, of which Hermione only had a very basic knowledge about. By the way he spoke of his parents and his home, Hermione was almost certain that his home life was akin to Harry's, perhaps even worse. She recalled how adversely Harry would speak of the Durselys and his horrible cousin Dudley.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Hermione inquired.

"No." Snape sneered, "And I wouldn't want them. More baggage to take care of."

Hermione frowned. "That's a very harsh way of looking at it," she said. "I would love to have an older or younger sibling. It would've made things less…lonely."

Snape watched her curiously as Hermione got lost in pensive thoughts. "You might have even liked it." she noted after some time.

"I'm perfectly fine as is," said Severus coldly. The sharpness of his words seemed to snap Hermione from her thoughts, for she had spoken without even really thinking.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione honestly. "I was just saying whatever came in my head."

Severus looked away and stared off into the distance, contemplating very deeply about something which Hermione wished she could understand.

"Only you would be working hard on the day of departure," a voice interrupted both Hermione and Severus's thoughts. They glanced up to see Remus Lupin's friendly smile beating down on them as he approached the desk they were sitting at.

"Hello, Remus," said Hermione kindly. "I don't think it's comely to waste time when I can easily finish everything now and relax all through winter," she smiled. It was a tradition Hermione had kept since her first year at Hogwarts. "And besides," she added, "the train doesn't leave until two, and it's only eleven-thirty."

"I suppose you're right," Remus agreed, smiling.

"Is there a reason you are here, Lupin, or do you often cut in other people's conversations?" came Snape's silky retort.

Lupin blinked, and shifted his arm to hold out a very dusty and massive book. "I came to put this back," he said slowly. "I did not realize I needed a reason to speak with a friend."

Severus looked at him darkly. Remus let out a little breath and gave Hermione a forced smile. "I'll see you around."

When Remus disappeared behind a far away bookshelf, Hermione rounded on Severus. "Why must you always be that way?"

"Be what way?"

"So horrible to him, to everyone! He's been nothing but kind to you these past few months, but you shove it all back in his face," said Hermione indignantly.

Fury washed on his face. "I have no reason to show kindness to those who remained silent upon the wrongs done to me," Severus hissed. "He may be kind words and polite smiles, but not once has he told off Black and Potter for their childish pranks played on me these past five years. The fact he is even their friend makes me sick, and only further shows he has tactless character."

"And I?" Severus scowled at her words, staring at her with glazed eyes. "I am their friend—most of them, anyway," she corrected, as she was still not on speaking terms with Sirius. "I am living with, and really the stepsister of, your hated 'Potter'. So what of me?"

"What of you," sneered Severus.

Hermione shook her head. "You need to start remembering that they are all fifteen," she said emphatically. "They—and this includes you—will not do the right thing every time; half of them are afraid to speak up, in fear of losing the only friendship they have. They're—we're—young, Severus! You can't expect us to behave otherwise, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Severus scowled and looked away, his eyes blazoned with checked anger that she knew he was withholding from her.

"Other than his friendship and his—his silence," she started hesitantly, "has he ever been cruel to you?"

He did not answer immediately. He simply glowered in his chair, looking away from her, and Hermione could almost feel the waves of blind hatred coming off his body.

She nearly gave up. All thoughts halted, however, when she heard him speak, so softly and so unwillingly, as if the word were being torn out from his mouth, "No."

He was looking at her as if he hated the very sight of her, but in the depths of his eyes she saw a small, wavering spark of admission. Hermione replied quietly, "Then for Merlin's sake, Severus. Give him the benefit of the doubt."

She watched his lips curl as he snarled just as quietly, "Well aren't you just the bloodiest Gryffindor in the school."

What would have passed Hermione's lips at Severus's remark remained a mystery, for at that precise moment Remus was walking back towards them, the library book he had brought with him now safely returned to its respective bookshelf.

"I'll see you at the station, Hermione," he bid her goodbye, pausing a little at the table she was sitting at. Remus's eyes flickered to Severus, who was firmly avoiding his gaze, and Remus smiled tightly. "Goodbye, Severus."

He did not so much as flinch at the words spoken to him, and Hermione glanced between the two boys with unveiled ire. She kicked her foot out and hit Severus's leg square on the shin, causing him to wince and let out a small groan, shooting Hermione a menacing glare that would have caused even Peeves to cower.

At Hermione's no-nonsense glare, Severus looked up at the young Marauder with contempt. "Right," grimaced Severus, the word coming out with great diffuculty.

She supposed it was too soon to expect any more kindness than that.

Remus smiled mildly and departed. The tension in the air, while still lingering, was significantly less than it was five minutes ago. Hermione let out a breath and stretched in her seat, smiling at Severus widely. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Severus did not bother even responding. Grabbing his bag, he sidled a glance at her and said coldly, "Do try to stay alive while you're on holiday. The Potters are known for their beasts."

Hermione blinked a few times, wondering what in the world he could have meant.

xxx

Hermione did not dislike very many things. In fact if she thought about it, she considered herself an amiable person to be around—at least, when she was not studying her brains out during final exam week (for she was well-known for scaring any person within ten yards of her; case and point Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati…).

No, Hermione liked to look at a difficulty as a challenge, something to be overcome. And for someone thrown twenty years in the past, trying to destroy horcruxes and prevent Death Eaters from becoming Death Eaters, one would think sitting for a few hours on a magical train would be a piece of pumpkin pasty.

Due to complicated circumstances ("That's a good one," Lily snorted when Hermione tried explaining it to her), Hermione was no longer sitting with James this trip, for James was inevitably and most obviously attached at the hip to a certain dark and brooding pureblood who was not on good terms with her at the moment. She recalled the sympathetic shrugs and looks both Lupin and Peter had given her ("I'll stop by and have a chat when the trolley comes around," Peter promised before entering his compartment), and the knowing but indifferent looks her new compartment members gave her when she sat with Lily and her circle of friends on the train.

She could not say she disliked sitting with these girls, because they were so very pleasant and sweet and she already had classes with all of them so there was no strange awkward air about them; no, she simply disliked this situation. Had Hermione been more prudent, she would have made more friends than Lily and Severus, for in reality it was just them who had accepted her readily. The real shocker was Severus though; never in her wildest dreams did she ever, ever imagine that her old potions master would become one of her closest friends.

Lily was too good to Hermione, and it made her wonder if she was so open with her love and friendship to anyone. And to some extent she was—she seemed to be good friends with nearly everyone in the school (even some Slytherins, to Hermione's amusement as well as Lily's) and was such good fun to be around that it was no wonder so many students gravitated towards her like a magnet.

The only time Hermione noticed she was not so magnanimous was whenever James or Sirius—well, more James, really—would cross her path. And who could blame her? He acted like a dungbeetle in front of her ninety-nine percent of the time. Hopefully during this break at the Potters' she could knock some sense into him.

But now she digressed. No, what was very troublesome was that in reality, Severus was still at Hogwarts, Lily was having too jolly of a time with these girls, and the other students had their own friends, and Sirius hated her, and James was James, and Remus and Peter would always stick with Sirius and James, and Hermione was feeling so very terribly lonely, sitting in these same seats that she had sat in for six years with the two people in her life that meant the world to her, but she could never be their friend again.

And it was this thought that made her think of Voldemort, and she wished she had not listened to Dumbledore's advice by turning the Time-Turner three times and going back to 1975. She wished she had turned it three more, and landed herself in 1940 where she could throttle that deceitful boy who went by the name of Tom Riddle.

But that would have made her even lonelier, wouldn't it? For she wouldn't be able to see her friends for another forty years.

As these thoughts were flying through her head, a boy sauntered past the window of her compartment, whom she recognized as a Slytherin.

And that brought her thoughts to a sharp turn.

It took a long time for Hermione to finally realize that she had not been 'accidentally' bumping into flocks of Slytherins throughout the year; if she thought hard enough, it would seem almost convenient, running in to each other every so often. She had yet to meet the Slytherin's fearsome leader, Avery, but she had met nearly everybody else by some misdemeanor or other.

Yes, they were not all cheerful introductions. The worst so far had to be Regulus, however. Finding him nearly drowned in the Black Lake only to discover she had attempted resuscitation for naught, and that Regulus had taken pleasure in her discomfort at having pressed her lips to his (here Hermione shuddered and had to close her eyes, for reliving the scene in her mind was almost as bad as the experience itself) certainly took the cake. But the others these past two months came very close.

Meeting Mulciber the week before the departure for holiday break had brought her dangerously close to meeting Avery; something she was not too keen on doing yet. However, from what she judged, Mulciber was just as terrible to behold, especially when strolling down Hogwarts grounds.

He had played the Slytherin card quite well by mocking her, her lineage, her family; everything Malfoy had desensitized her from for quite some time. It was all dandy until he took out his wand.

Now, being basically a seventh year in her normal time, dueling and defending herself against a fifth year was not some grand feat. However, Hermione realized that though she may be an expert duelist, her iron concentration had finally cracked—just as she was about disarm Mulciber and part on clean though unfriendly terms, her eyes saw a flash of black in the topmost corner of her eye. And for a second—a fraction of a second—she glanced up, eyes breaking away from Slytherin before her, and saw the passing body of Sirius up high in Hogwarts, where windows were aligned every few feet. He was smiling, a smile she did not get to see when she very often anymore—and that was precisely when she was knocked off her feet.

"Looks like mudbloods really aren't witches after all," Mulciber sniggered, leaning over her with his wand pointed at her nose.

Hermione rolled her eyes, the image of Sirius's walking figure completely erased from her mind as she mentally kicked herself for getting distracted.

Just as she was going to hex the smile off his face, a rough voice entered the picture.

"Wot the 'ell are you doin', Mulciber?"

Scabior was scowling deeply at the offender. Hermione noticed with some fascination that his eyes wore eyeliner again, and his hair was a wild mane tied back haphazardly to keep it out of the way. He reminded of her the muggle rock stars she had pinned up posters of in her old bedroom. All that was missing was the leather jacket.

"Showing the mudblood her place," he replied derisively, and Hermione nearly groaned at the lack of creativity. Sensing a distraction, she quickly vaulted to her feet and adjusted the grip on her wand firmly.

"I think she'll show you yours first," Scabior said with a hint of a smile, noticing full well that Hermione was now standing. Mulciber, however, did not.

"Siding with a Gryffindor mudblood now, are you, Scabior? Can't imagine what Avery would think of that."

Scabior wore a disgusted expression and spat, "Avery can suck my—"

"Boys, boys," Hermione interrupted before he could finish his sentence. "Can't we all just talk this through nicely?"

Mulciber was visibly shocked that Hermione was now armed and standing, perhaps even more shocked because she had not stunned him yet.

However he seemed to move past it easily, for his face twisted in a nasty snarl and he lifted his wand.

Hermione lazily flicked her hand and Mulciber's wand went flying. Catching it easily, she smiled at him as she slowly twirled it in her hand.

"You—you—" Mulciber an image of absolute consternation and fury, his face already turning colors. All the while Scabior had been watching intently, but the moment Hermione smiled at Mulciber tauntingly he began roaring in laughter.

"Hex the dumb bint, you prat!" Mulciber screamed at his fellow Slytherin, but Scabior simply continued to laugh.

Sensing he would be getting no help, he rounded on Hermione. "You'll pay for this, filthy—"

"You really might want to choose your words wisely," Hermione reminded, rolling his wand between her fingers.

Mulciber frowned. "You snap that and you're expelled," he said viciously, and Hermione had to give him merit for actually something other than how to bully students.

"That is true. I guess I'll have to give it back to you, then."

Instead of handing it over, however, she flicked her wand again and Mulciber's wand zoomed out of her hand and in the air, spinning madly towards the castle.

"It's gone in the dungeons," said Hermione boredly. "Shouldn't take you too long to find it. Unless, of course, another student finds it first."

Mulciber glared at her in pure hatred and started towards the castle. "You best hope Avery doesn't meet you," he threatened, "for there will be pure hell to pay for this."

As Mulciber darted to the castle doors, becoming nothing more than a blur in the distance, Hermione sighed. She really should have not bothered with the squabble, but the Slytherin had given her no choice. He was, after all, probably going to do some very unpleasant things to her nose with his wand when he had knocked her off her feet, and remembering the fiasco with Draco Malfoy and the horrible spell that had hit her two front teeth, she decided to evade Mulciber completely.

"That was impressive for a transfer student," Scabior noted, running a rough hand through his wild hair. Hermione was startled by the sound of his voice, having forgotten he was still there.

"Yes," said Hermione in a flustered voice, looking away. "Well…good day."

He was not fazed by her quick dismissal; in fact, he sidled along next to her with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Say, where did you transfer from, again? The rumor mill is not always so reliable—"

"I'm not sure why it matters."

"It doesn't, not really, it's just back there—"

Hermione stopped walking and looked up at him. He was smiling good-naturedly, and Hermione's curiosity piqued at his seeming disregard of the House hatred.

"I really don't like to talk about my past." The smile was wearing down a bit on his face, and his expression was starting to change. She quickly looked away, "Now if you excuse me, please."

Hermione continued to walk, but his next words chilled her to the bone.

"So fifth-year mudbloods know 'ow to do nonverbal spells?"

...Fuck.

Chastising herself was an understatement. No curses, no self-depreciating words could sum up the amount of dung Hermione felt at that moment.

But of course, Scabior was right. She had used nonverbal spells unintentionally when she had disarmed Mulciber. He had been too busy being angry that a muggleborn had beat him to realize her mistake, but Scabior had not. He saw it all, and now she had to face the consequences.

Hermione remembered making this same mistake on the carriage ride to Hogwarts, where the Marauders had witnessed her heal her palms after the horrid aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse she was inflicted by (an occurrence that has not happened since then, thank Merlin), but fortunately for her they never breached the subject again.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and turned around to face him. Looking up at him with contempt, she said, "What do you want?"

"Now we're talking," Scabior grinned cheerfully. "I'm assuming you don't want to discuss the spell-thing, then?"

Her silence was answer enough, for he smiled even wider. "Excellent. This is going to be lovely."

"What do you want?" Hermione repeated.

Scabior's eyes turned predatory. "I'll tell you when the time comes." Blinking, his expression relaxed and he smiled disarmingly again. "Well, don' want to be late for class. I'll see you 'round."

After his departure, Hermione had noticed more and more stares thrown her direction from the Slytherin table the week following up to holiday break. A few words thrown here and there as she walked down the hallways, a few run-ins with some boys she remembered seeing in the forbidden forest when Severus had jinxed the would-be Death Eaters.

And alas, here she was. Sitting on the train home next to Lily and her friends, the horcrux diadem sitting at the bottom of her trunk, and Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus seated in the compartment across from hers, and the feeling of oppressive loneliness returned with a vengeance.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up, startled. They were all staring at her.

"Y-yes," said Hermione quickly. "Must've dozed off or something."

They seemed unconvinced, so Hermione stood up and stretched. "I think I'll go take a walk to the lavatory."

"Don't take too long," said Lily. "We've still got plenty of things to talk about and it's no fun if you're missing out."

"I won't."

Hermione slid the door open and slipped outside quietly.

Quickly making her way to the loo, Hermione was relieved that it was not occupied. Locking the door behind her, Hermione stared back at her reflection and sighed.

Perhaps she should have listened to Severus. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay at Hogwarts. Perhaps, perhaps…

But there was no time for 'perhaps' and maybe's. That was not her duty to think of. There was now, and that was all.

A fierce knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. Running her fingers through her hair quickly in an attempt to tame the mane, Hermione adjusted her clothes and opened the door.

It was a short second year Ravenclaw girl, who looked about ready to explode so Hermione quickly moved aside to let her through. Hermione noticed a small line had formed outside the bathroom. Merlin, how long had she been in there?

"We really should stop meeting like this."

Hermione glanced at the first person in line and for once it was not some Slytherin sleeze trying to hex her to oblivion.

Sirius was leaning against the wall of the train. He looked a little worse for wear, but she knew she looked even worse.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hermione went along with it crossed her arms.

"I don't know, but we really ought to kick the habit. Bad example for the first years, you know."

"Oh yes, the first years," he agreed wholeheartedly, intrigued but visibly happy that she had decided to follow his lead. His stance became a little less stiff and even lazier, if that was possible. "Can't put crazy ideas in their head."

Hermione tilted her head, trying to think of a response but falling flat. Finally she said, "Sorry, what are we even talking about again?"

"No idea," Sirius said, and they both grinned and Sirius chuckled. Hermione looked away, not trusting herself if she got lost in his eyes as she had so many times this year.

Sirius cleared his throat. "So…going home with James today?"

"I am," she said softly.

They both felt the tension in the air thicken, and she knew that he knew that they were both thinking the same thoughts. How things had become so rough with them, how quickly friendship between them had nearly deteriorated. It was the last thing Hermione had wanted for the two of them…and yet, that seemed to be happening often to her.

Before she could continue in the downward sloping thoughts, Sirius broke the tension. "You'll love it there," he blurted. "I've spent plenty of summers at his house. The Potters definitely know how to have a good time."

"That's good," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad I'll get to spend more time with Charlus and Dorea. They were so very kind to me when I first arrived."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply but at that moment the door to the bathroom opened. Sirius was next in line, so he shot her a glance and then glanced at the door.

It was amazing how a split second could flood the conversation back with unspoken tension.

"Well then," Hermione said finally.

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "I…I'll see you later." He quickly entered the lavatory and closed the door, the lock clicking into place.

And they were back at square one.

Hermione reentered her compartment to find most of the girls either staring idly out the window or dozing off. So much for the scintillating conversation she had "missed out" on.

Remus and Peter had taken turns at visiting her, though it was only once throughout the entire train ride. The conversation seemed a little uncomfortable, and Hermione could not help but feel relieved when it was over. Which was very odd, for she liked them both very much at this point.

While with Remus this realization did not come as a surprise, Peter's was. She had expected to hate him for the crimes he committed in the future, but wasn't this the point of her arriving in this decade? Helping change the past, preventing would-be followers of Voldemort to desist and see the light.

Finally after a copious amount of time, the train began to slow and the students grew even more excited when the train came to a full stop.

Hermione left her compartment and headed to the front of the train. She struggled a bit with her trunk, and slowly she stepped off the train and onto the platform. The chilly December air hit her immediately, and she ducked her head to avoid the frosty wind and wheeled her trunk behind her.

She glanced around, wondering where the Potters were. She supposed she ought to wait for James to come off the train so that they could find them together, so she stood silently and waited.

She watched student after student get off, and some recognized her and bid her a happy Christmas.

A boy stepped onto the platform, and another boy, and another, all whom she wished she did not have to see. Of course they'd come out of this door, Hermione thought with irritation.

The Slytherins who had been taunting her the past week or so sniggered when they saw her, and some took a few jibes at her. Ignoring them, she stared defiantly in the distance and wondered where on earth James and his parents were. t was time for her to actively look for them.

She began to walk away when a voice shouted, "Leaving already, Granger? But we've only just started!"

"Idiots," she muttered under her breath, rolling her trunk behind her furiously.

"Not all of us," a voice said in her ear, and Hermione jumped, instinctively whipping out her wand. "Easy," said Regulus. "I just came to remind you of the deal we made."

"Deal?" Hermione shook her head. "What deal did we ever make?"

"You told me to come and find you, and I did," said Regulus as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I did."

"Well, now is not the best time," said Hermione irritatedly. She was tired of all this. At this point, all she wanted was to go home with the Potters, curl on her bed, and finally get a good night's sleep. And while she did want to get to know Regulus more, she just could not understand why Regulus himself was pursuing this so much. Surely she did not seem that desperate to know about his damn necklace? And even so, why did he want to tell her? She knew Regulus was not oblivious. He knew she was connected to his older brother at some vague level. What was his motive?

"Obviously," Regulus snapped. "But now I know where to find you. Keep a lookout for an owl."

"What?"

"Happy holidays," he dismissed her confusion and abruptly turned around and walked away.

"There you are," she heard James from behind. She turned to see James jogging towards her with an exasperated expression. "We've been looking for you for ages! Come one, Mum and Dad are waiting."

"I couldn't find you either," said Hermione, "it's not like I've been standing like a dunce wishing for you to arrive."

"Geez, calm down," James raised hands as if to back off. "What's got your wand in a knot?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It's just been a very strange day."

James nodded understandingly, and perhaps on some level he did. "Well, cheer up now. You don't want Mum to see that sullen expression."

"Have the others left already?" Hermione inquired, referring to Remus, Peter, and Sirius.

"Oh yes, they've gone with their families," he said mildly. "Don't worry though, you'll get to meet them all soon."

"Why?"

"You don't know?" Hermione shook her head. A devious expression spread on his face, and he replied, "Well, no point ruining the fun now."

"What fun?"

"You'll find over the next few days. Don't fret, Hermy; all will reveal itself over due time."

"For Merlin's sake, it's Hermione," she corrected for the umpteenth time, but it fell to deaf ears. Sighing, she strolled forward and followed James's lead.

Finally after an eternity of walking they spotted Mr. and Mrs. Potter, waiting and smiling anxiously as James and Hermione approached.

Within seconds Hermione saw Dorea Potter's ear-splitting grin and her arms spread wide open as she launched herself at Hermione.

"Oh, my dear girl! We're so glad you decided to come!" she squealed, squeezing Hermione's torso until she began having difficulty to breathe, much less have any circulation left in her arms.

"So," said Charlus as his wife fawned over Hermione unwaveringly, "are you two hungry?"

xxx

When the four arrived at Godric's Hollow, it was well past nine o'clock, for the Potters had decided to take James and Hermione to a muggle restaurant. It was amusing to see Mr. Potter ("Darling, do call me Charlus, I feel like my father when you call me Mr. Potter," Charlus had said with a grimace) handle muggle money, much less see the muggle way of preparing food and serving. It had been Dorea's idea, for she felt Hermione would feel a little more comfortable dining the muggle way.

Presently, Hermione was curled up on a very comfortable sofa in the living room, her head resting against the cushioned armrest as her eyes stared at the ceiling. Her body felt drained, as if all the energy sapped out of her the moment she stepped out of Hogwarts.

The room, similar to the rest of James's house, was very large and comfortable. Across from her sofa was an oval pinewood coffee table, and across that was another sofa that James was currently occupying. He was stretched lazily across it, one hand holding a copy of the Daily Prophet and the other a quill.

The fireplace was to Hermione's left, and it was crackling with flames uproariously. She closed her eyes, savoring the absolute comfort she felt, for she knew she would not have times like these very often.

Stretching a little, she watched as James read the Prophet eagerly. Once in a while, he would furrow his brow, reach over to the table and dip his quill in an ink bottle, and underline or circle something written on the paper.

After watching him do this for five minutes, Hermione could not help but ask, "James?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously." He circled something again. "Why are you circling things?"

His eyes briefly flickered over to hers. He looked away quickly and replied, "Don't worry about it. It's just something stupid I like to do."

But the more he refused to tell her, naturally, the more Hermione insisted she wanted to know.

Finally he sighed and motioned for her to come to his side. Uncurling herself from the couch, Hermione padded over to his sofa and he sat up, moving so they could sit next to each other.

He showed her the paper and Hermione grasped it lightly. Glancing at him briefly, Hermione began to read.

At first the markings seemed random. It did not take Hermione long to find the pattern, though. They were consistently numbers—number of deaths, that is. Numbers were circled, ages were underlined, and last names were underline twice.

"James," Hermione said slowly, "why are you keeping count of how many reported deaths there are in the Daily Prophet?"

James rubbed his jaw roughly and straightened his glasses. "Well," he began, "It's really a strange story."

Her silence and questioning eyes propelled him to continue. "I didn't start doing this until the end of term last year," he admitted. "Around June. Around when things…things started happening with the attacks."

Ah, when Voldemort was acting up.

"And so you decided to track him?"

James shook his head. "Not at all. I just remember reading the Prophet one evening, the day after term ended and I was home, and my dad had just walked through the front door. He seemed…a little lost. More baffled, really, and it amused me so I asked him what happened."

He reached around the sofa and picked up his school bag and placed it on his lap, touching the zipper lightly. "He told me he met about the strangest young man in the Leaky Cauldron, who was just starting a newspaper business of his own with the help of his wife—whom he just married, and quite young too, right out of Hogwarts—and he handed me a copy of the boy's first newspaper issue."

James unzipped his school bag he pulled out a second magazine. He handed it over to her, and when Hermione read the name of the newspaper she gasped.

"The Quibbler?" Hermione blanched.

"Have you heard of it?" James looked at her skeptically.

She blinked and looked up at him. "N-no," she answered, looking back down at it. "Never."

Her eyes roved over the newspaper, and she noticed it was the latest issue. "What is the young man's name, again?" she asked hesitantly. "The one who started this paper?"

James frowned a little. "It's such a mouthful of a name, and I don't think I'm pronouncing it right—but I believe his name is Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Ah," Hermione nodded, still a little shell-shocked. "Ah."

"Indeed," James agreed. "I read this paper last June. Merlin's beard, nearly ninety percent of it was pure garbage. He kept going on and on and on about some beasts and creatures that no one has ever heard of—I nearly dozed off twice—but thankfully I turned to the Current News section, and noticed some very interesting things."

James took the Quibbler and opened up to a section. "I saw something very particular: the mentioning of certain individuals, though at first glance very vague or unimportant. But they kept showing up, and they were from small families, virtually unknown…and dead. All of them—friends or acquaintances of Lovegood, I'm sure, for how else would he learn of their passing?—were mentioned, week after week. What interested me, however, was that the Daily Prophet never penned down these deceased. Not even in their obituaries."

"And…"

"And isn't that strange? These deaths—none of them were from natural causes. It wasn't as if they went to sleep one night and simply never woke up the next morning. And none of them were cursed either, so they couldn't say it was by magic. It's so strange, so peculiar, and so much like Voldemort's style."

"Yes," Hermione said pensively. "It is very curious…" Hermione stared at the two newspapers again. "So you've been marking what's been reported in the Daily Prophet and what's not?"

"Pretty much," James agreed. "I didn't believe the Quibbler at first, so I went to a few witches and wizards' houses that the paper mentioned, and…well, the bloke had his facts right."

"You went to the homes of the families who lost someone?" He nodded. "And they didn't turn you away?"

"Frankly they were quite happy to have some company," James remarked. "Though they were in tears half the time…these weren't cheerful visits, but the people were very kind. I only went to a few families, but honestly the first family had me convinced."

Hermione nodded in understanding, but James sighed. "I know I'm probably wasting my time, and I didn't mean for this to go one for so long…but it's kind of a habit now. The newspaper thing, I mean."

"It's not a waste of time," she countered. "I think it's…amazing, actually."

"Really?"

"You noticed something no one else has, and that's brilliant, James. I really think you caught on to something."

It really was brilliant. As Hermione reread some of the things he had marked, she realized he was withholding a crucial piece of information from her, but which she caught anyway. He was distinguished between a wizard and a muggleborn wizard by their last name, identifying their age; which, if she was correct, were all fairly young—probably right out of school.

If this was all true, then James must have read about her…when her "parents" were murdered and she had somehow survived…

Suddenly Hermione was overcome by the urge to ask him if he kept the article, but knew at once that it was probably not the best decision. The fact that he failed to mention he was also differentiating between pureblood and halfblood deaths was indicative of his hesitance to tell her anything about it.

In that case…

"Have you been doing this while at school, too?" she inquired.

James nodded. "Mostly in my dorm, though. In the dead of night. Under the covers."

Hermione laughed at his joke, and she stretched in her seat and looked at the time. James followed her line of vision and gasped.

"Merlin's pants, it's eleven o'clock! How the hell did that happen?"

Hermione shrugged. "Don't Dorea or Charlus scold you for staying up late?"

"Nah, they're too busy scheming for their next plots, as they probably are right now."

"What plots?"

James smiled secretively and zipped his lips.

"Why won't you tell me!" Hermione whined. "I hate this!"

"And that's precisely why it's so much more fun not to tell you," James smirked. He sprung to his feet, pulling Hermione along with him. "Come, my dear sister. It is time to go to bed."

"Sister?" Hermione raised a brow.

"Well you may as well be, living here forever and all. So stop your questions," James commanded, and Hermione raised her hands in defeat, much like he had earlier that day.

"I believe you've met the staircase already?" James said as they approached it.

"Yes, I daresay I have," she sighed, and together they climbed up. When they went their separate ways, and Hermione was lying very still in her bed as she stared outside her window, a thought nagged her brain for the longest time and made her toss about on the mattress.

Finally, when the fatigue finally won its battle and was slowly slipping the young Gryffindor into the dream realm, the last thought in her mind was that somehow, during the break, she had to pay Xenophilius Lovegood a visit with inquiry of his newspaper records.

xxx

The next morning Hermione woke up with a start.

For a moment she could not recognize where she was or what bed she was sleeping in. It did not take her long to find her bearings, but waking up in the Potters house was very disorienting indeed. She had only slept there once before heading off to school.

The clock on the wall told her she had slept in abominably late, and nobody had bothered waking her. Stretching wildly and sighing when a few joints cracked satisfyingly, Hermione sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes.

Morning light was creeping its way through the heavy curtains, just enough to tell her the morning had arrived. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Hermione stared wretchedly at the wild bird's nest of hair that was currently reflecting back in the mirror. After many attempts to flatten it, Hermione gave up and trudged downstairs.

When she entered the dining room she did a double take. "O-oh, my," she said breathlessly. She had expected the Potters to already be there eating, but not like this—

"My god, is that what you look like in the morning?" James blurted with utter fascination.

"James!" Dorea hissed.

"What, look at her, it's bloody hilar—"

"I'm sorry you've had to put up with this all year," Charlus said over the paper he was reading.

"It's quite alright," Hermione choked out. "I-I'll just go back and—and dress properly, this—I—bye."

Hermione darted out of the room and bounded up the staircase. Once in the safe confinement of her room did she resume breathing.

Why on earth had everyone been dressed and ready for the day already?

That was not customary morning behavior! Oh Merlin, and she had went down looking like a frumpy stack of hay….

After showering, taming her hair, and dressing in more proper attire, Hermione descended down to the dining room once more. They talked amiably; James still shot glances at her and chuckled to himself, clearly reminiscing the horror story she had first come down as.

After Charlus Potter went to work and Dorea headed to the study, Hermione found herself back in the living room and staring out the window.

"So what shall we do today?" she asked James as he entered the room.

"I could give you a tour about the house? I don't think we had time to do that the last time you were here." James paused. "You know what, hold off on that. I'll give you the tour later this week."

"Okay," said Hermione, a little confused. "Anything else, then?" A thought struck her, and suddenly she bolted from her seat.

"Can we go into town?"

"Sure," James shrugged. "I just have to tell mother, and then we'll be off."

James and Hermione peaked into the study and found Dorea Potter sitting comfortably in an armchair with a massive book in her lap.

"Oye, Mum! We're going into town in a few minutes, alright?"

Dorea barely glanced up from her book. "That's nice, dear. Do be careful, and be back for dinner."

Hermione was shocked at the brevity of the exchange but thought nothing of it. What else was to be expected from James Potter, notorious marauder?

After bundling up in warmer clothes, the two stepped towards the fireplace. James took a pinch of Floo powder and said clearly, "Diagon Alley!"

Immediately a shot of flames engulfed him and he disappeared. Hermione stepped in after him and repeated his steps. The flames enveloped her, and Hermione closed her lips before she could inhale a mouthful of soot. The moment she was on solid ground again, she was blasted immediately by a strong and cold wind that nearly stole Hermione's breath.

"Damn winter," James cursed under his breath, standing next to her. "Come on, we better get a move along if we want to get everything done before it gets too crowded."

Walking around town with James Potter ended up being an extraordinarily enjoyable experience. They walked with their arms linked together (more for the sake of keeping themselves warm than anything else, for it was the coldest day of the entire year) and stopped by several shops she did not recognize in the nineties.

For one, there was a small little bookshop at the corner of a street, and inside Hermione was amazed by the books at her disposal. As she explored further her heart nearly exploded out of her chest when she saw books entailing dark magic, and after reading several titles she was convinced it was a hundred percent necessary to return her on her own and make a few purchases. They would certainly improve her chances at destroying some horcruxes, judging from the covers she had seen.

They arrived back, just in time for dinner as promised, and Hermione felt like such a weight was lifted off her—that, for once, she could smile and laugh and it felt so right to do so, because at that moment in the Potters living room, sitting with James and his parents, Hermione did not need to think about Voldemort and ripped souls and Death Eaters and Time Turners and Slytherins. Hermione could simplybe, and it felt wonderful and feathery light and it made her happy; it made her feel at home.

And the last time she could recall when felt like this…well, it was with Harry and Ron.

Several days had passed like this. The air between Hermione and James was infinitely languorous, as it never had been before. She got along with him so well, he made her laugh constantly, and she wondered why he was not like this all the time, especially at Hogwarts? Perhaps when he was around other people or his friends, he put up this version of himself that was supposed to be cooler and hotter and more bad ass. But sincerely, she liked this private side of him so much more.

It was the night of December 18, a quiet Thursday in the Godric's Hollow. Hermione had a muggle book propped in her lap, sitting in her usual spot by the fireplace downstairs in the living room. James had taken to spending time with her in this room since the day of their arrival, and Hermione very much enjoyed the company. It was a sort of unspoken agreement between the two to make the living room their 'spot', and if Hermione allowed herself to think about it even a little, she would think it felt rather nice to have a brotherly figure. For in her past life, she had been an only child.

"When are your parents coming back, again?" Hermione asked off-handedly as she turned a page. James was laying on his stomach right before the crackling fireplace, while Hermione had taken residence on the sofa on its left.

"Tomorrow night," James mumbled, flipping through pages of some wizard's magazine.

"And do this every year?"

"Correct."

"I still can't believe they trust you, of all people, to behave when alone in this house."

James scoffed, "My parents are very important people, Hermione, which you'll soon see the extent of very soon. I'm competent enough to stay alive for three days in their absence, thank you very much."

Hermione grinned. "It also helps that the house elves are here though, doesn't it?"

"Yes, they are the majority of the reason behind my success…."

Hermione laughed, and James got to his feet. "The chamberpots are calling me," he sighed dramatically, and Hermione wrinkled her nose at the image of the medieval methods of toiletry. James made a quick exit and sprinted upstairs, though there was a perfectly fine bathroom on the first floor.

Hermione looked out the window and saw raindrops as thick as golf balls ram against the windowpane mercilessly, and she sighed. A week before Christmas, and it was raining? Hermione would never be able to understand the unpredictability of weather. It was probably freezing cold outside, and yet the rain.

Sighing again, Hermione turned the page.

As she began to get immersed in the book once again, a noise brought her attention back to the present. At first she thought it was the sound of perhaps a tree branch falling, but it was much more subtle of a sound than that. And it had come from near the front door.

The rain was pounding against the glass so hard that it made it difficult to hear anything else above it. When she shook her head and turned back to the book, the sound came again, only louder.

Hesitantly putting her book down on the sofa, Hermione rose to her feet and slowly approached the window and took a quick peek. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She squinted her eyes to try and see where that noise was coming from, but saw nothing.

Suddenly someone started pounding on the front door madly, with enough force to break it. Luckily the door was reinforced by magical enchantments, so naturally it was impossible to knock it down.

It was also impossible for muggles to see the Potters' residence, so it meant that whoever was at the door could use magic.

Where is James? Hermione thought despairingly, but approached the door nonetheless. She had no intentions of opening the door, but for the sake of her sanity, she needed to know who in the world would come to this house in the dead of night.

She flinched back when the pounded started again, even more frantic than before. She was now only a foot away from the door. Vaguely she heard shouting, of someone's name? It was so raw, and desperate, and the pounding began to grow weaker.

Hermione looked inside the eyehole and strained to see who it was in the dark.

The blood drained out of her face.

Fiercely Hermione grappled with the locks on the door and unlocked them one by one. Her legs were shaking horribly, as were her hands. It made opening the locks all the more difficult, but she was not thinking about that at the time. All her mind played in her head was the image she saw though the eyehole.

Hermione finished the last lock and tore the door open, and looked down at the figure that was now on his knees near the door.

"Oh god," she breathed, taking in the soaking wet appearance of the man in front of her. "Oh god."

Hermione stepped outside and felt herself get soaking wet instantly, but she did not care. Bending down, Hermione grasped his arms and tried to pull him to his feet to get him inside.

"Sirius," Hermione shook him hard. "Sirius!"

He was not responding, but she could tell he was still conscious. She gave a wild tug at him, and after much pulling and coaxing she got him to his feet. "Come on, Sirius," she encouraged him. "Just a little more. A little more and you'll be inside and safe. Come on."

He moaned softly, and Hermione felt her eyes welling at the painful note in the sound.

They stumbled together across the threshold and Hermione kicked the door closed, trusting the enchantments of the house to keep them safe. Dragging him over to the sofa, Hermione flung her book away and forced Sirius to sit.

"James!" Hermione shouted, looking at the frozen boy before her fretfully. "James!"

She refocused her attention on Sirius and saw he was truly soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. He was muttering softly under his breath.

"What? Hermione whispered. "Sirius, what is it?"

She moved closer to him, and she heard him whispering, over and over, "I couldn't do it. Wouldn't. Never. Never. Never. Never."

And then he went limp.

"Mipsy!" Hermione shrieked.

Immediately a house elf appeared next to her. "Mistress called?"

"I need a new change of clothes for him," she said quickly. "And towels and blankets, LOTS of blankets! Quickly!"

Mipsy did not reply and immediately disapparated with a crack.

"Sirius?" She pushed back the hair in front of Sirius's face and her jaw dropped. Sweet Salazar…

Mipsy was back in an instant and was already helping Sirius out of his wet clothes and into dry, fresh ones. Hermione was extremely worried about the catatonic state Sirius seemed to be in, but he was starting to rouse little by little.

Hermione tugged on a thick sweater over Sirius's head with much difficulty, and said, "Sirius? Sirius. I need you to raise your arms, okay? Can you hear me?" He did not respond. Hermione manually lifted each arm so that she could slide the sweater over him completely. Mipsy had already wrestled him inside a snug and wooly pair of pajamas, and Hermione said to her, "I need you to get James now, Mipsy. Tell him Sirius just showed up at our doorstep."

"Yes, Mistress." And she disappeared again.

Hermione grabbed a towel and began drying his hair quickly, rubbing his head thoroughly. On some level Sirius was conscious enough to keep sitting up straight, but his mind was galaxies away. He was still shivering, and Hermione grabbed a few blankets and wrapped them securely around him.

She pushed his hair away again, and cupped his face in her hands. "Sirius?" she said softly. "Sirius, please answer me. It's Hermione."

His eyes opened, but did not acknowledge her any further. His teeth were chattering, so Hermione kneeled on the sofa and wrapped her arms around him so she could give him her body heat. "It's alright," she whispered softly. "It's alright now. You don't have to say anything. It's all right."

They stayed like that for a while, until the worst of his shivering subsided. She held on to him tightly as if he were her lifeline, gently rocking back and forth.

James bolted into the room then, his eyes a mass of consternation. "What the hell—!"

"He just show up," Hermione answered quietly. "I don't know anything. He hasn't spoken much. He just showed up."

"Is he hurt?"

"Look for yourself." Hermione moved a little so she was on Sirius's side, and she gently tilted his chin upwards so that James could see his face.

James shrank a little at the sight, his eyes gone wide. "Merlin…" he said weakly.

Sirius flinched then, and Hermione dropped her arms from him.

"What is it?" James asked, finally dropping to his knees in front of him. "Padfoot, what's wrong? What happened?"

Sirius lifted his head and Hermione noticed him scratching painfully at his left arm. He groaned, and then suddenly he viciously pulled out his arm from the blankets and yanked up the sleeve of his sweater.

Hermione gasped loudly. James paled. Two angry words were starting to form on his arm, as if they were being branded onto him permenantly right that very moment.

Blood Traitor.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she looked at Sirius incredulously.

"What did you do?" James breathed.

The word were shining brilliantly now and Sirius hissed in pain, which slowly became a growl, and then a full on scream.

"What do we do?" Hermione shrieked.

"I don't know!" James cried.

"You need to contact your parents, now!" Hermione shouted over Sirius's screams.

"I'll get them," James yelled, jumping to his feet. "Get him to calm down!"

"Right, yes," she breathed. "Hurry! And we need to get him to St. Mungo's!"

James disappeared again, and Hermione looked back at Sirius. He was not screaming anymore, but he was still staring at his arm.

Sirius.

Her heart was beating wildly and twisting painfully. "Dear god, Sirius," she whispered quietly. "I wish I was good enough to do more for you."

Something sparked in her head. Hermione sprang up and darted up the stairs and into her bedroom. Throwing open her trunk, Hermione took out the satchel which she brought from her own time. Her hand finally caught onto a cool glass bottle, one that Dumbledore had given her before her journey, one which she never felt she would need to use.

She bounded back downstairs and rushed into the living room, but her heart stopped when she arrived.

For by then, Sirius was gone.

xxx

And there you have it! Thanks so much for the encouraging and lovely reviews!

As usual, thank you my lovelies: Allison, Chaos Lady (that 'inquiring minds' bit made me chuckle), Aviendha (yes I realized that mistake after I posted that bit, sorry about that!), Recordkeeper (Sirius did indeed receive some kicking, sniff), and QuinnAgian (Thank you! For all of it! Sorry for the sparce updates, but sometimes it just works out that way).

The next chapter will be called Ambush.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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

Sands of Destiny