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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight: Hesitations   by nagandsev
Summary: Sirius and Hermione’s brief time of bliss together is interrupted by an innocent remark, which precipitates a quick return to the Ministry where they find more obscure goings on….
A/N: My deepest gratitude to the one and only Proulxes for her continued alpha/beta work and support on this story!

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During the night they barely noticed the spectral lynx Patronus that arrived to inform them that all was secure and to return to the Ministry the next day.

They had barely acknowledged the message amidst torrid lovemaking, followed by bouts of sleep.

And so it was in the following morning, lying satiated and intertwined together, Hermione struggled to think about the upcoming day as she felt Sirius slowly stroking her arm.

He stilled momentarily, asking, "And this?" His fingertips ever so lightly felt over her neck, the circumscribed raised ridge of her pale, sensitive skin, evidence of a thin cut scarring it.

"Who did this to you?"

Hermione shuddered as Sirius traced his finger over her scar. "It was a long time ago, Sirius—"

"Who?" he insisted quietly, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the memory of the foul breath, the cold, slick feeling as the knife’s blade was dragged across the delicate skin of her throat.

She swallowed. "Bellatrix."

He gathered her to him and held her tight. She heard him ask softly, "What happened?"

She shook her head slightly and repeated, "It was a long time ago. Before the final battle… Harry, Ron and I were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor where—where…" Her throat tightened. "She wanted… she wanted Harry, and I couldn’t—"

"Bellatrix still lives in your world—universe?" His voice and body had tensed.

"No. Molly killed her. During the final battle."

Hermione felt Sirius’ relax a bit as he said, "As in mine."

She nestled closer to him, throwing a leg across his thighs. She smiled as she saw his cock rise to half-mast and breathed in his musky scent, and with one arm stretching over his chest, she squeezed him tight. She felt him kiss the top of her head. Hearing his heart beating steady and loud, she sighed in contentment.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she groggily responded, relishing the warm, lazy feeling.

"I’ve been thinking," spoke Sirius quietly.

"Um hmm?"

He slowly continued, "About your thin places."

She raised her head and gave him a soft peck on the cheek before nestling her head again on his shoulder, mumbling sleepily, "What about them?"

"What if … what if besides places that meet, that touch, we are the thin places?"

"We?"

"Yes. You and me."

She gave him a wide grin. "You mean our bodies?"

"Yes. Well, not just our bodies…" He reciprocated with a wolfish grin. "Our minds and emotions and magic, you know?"

Hermione raised her head again, admiring him, and then softly laughed, happy. "You're full of surprises, Sirius Black Why on earth are you thinking of thin places of all things?"

She sat up a bit beside him. His eyes were shining at her full of tenderness and something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Besides satisfaction, his expression had a kind of peace that she had never seen before on him.

He reached out and caressed her face, tucking some of her wild locks behind an ear and kissed her firmly on the lips, before answering. "Well, lying here with you evokes something inside me, an energy both passionate and relaxing, like a chord of music or such." He huffed and seemed slightly embarrassed. "Holding you in my arms, I don't know... I remember happier times... and I'm thinking about the future—our future... together."

She was momentarily speechless, not knowing quite what to say. Her own thoughts and body were still lingering onto and savouring the lasting sensations of having recently climaxed together; she had enjoyed that besides Muggle motorbikes, Sirius seemed to have a full knowledge of Muggle kamasutra positions.

They had lost themselves in time, in each other, and hadn't awareness of anything else except her sitting on him with her legs wrapped around his waist as he sat cross-legged: his guidance, helping her move her hips with his hands stroking or clenching her bottom as he caressed her breasts and neck with his mouth, his whiskers tickling and sending indescribable sensations throughout her body as she undulated and rocked with his cock thrusting deeper and upward inside her, in rhythm with her.

She trembled slightly from the pleasurable recall and asked, "What memories?"

"When James and Lily were alive, soon after their honeymoon, Voldemort had approached us, James and me, to join his cause, promising an exception to his rules—Lily being the exception."

Hermione gave him an affectionate squeeze, content that he felt relaxed and secure enough to share with her further details of his past.

"In brief, I played along to infiltrate his inner circle, but James and Lily outright defied him, insulting Voldemort's generosity to them even more... The Order had me take them to a safe place for a brief spell. We went to western Ireland." His forehead furrowed, remembering. "Once there, Lily Apparated us to a spot, one of her favourites she said."

"She'd been to Ireland?"

"As a child, yes. With her family. A place near Kealkil in the western part of the county Cork." Sirius smiled and kissed her forehead, remembering, and continued, "The local Muggles there told us that the standing stones in this circular space were believed to be a calendar of sorts, charting celestial positions, a vortex of time and space charting the position of the sun and the heavens… I don’t know why but I thought about what you were talking about yesterday, your Muggle Divination—"

"Spirituality."

"Right. Muggle spirituality. Points in time and space where your multiverses cross as well. Where they touch, the 'thin places'."

He looked at her intensely. "I remember so specifically that the energy in the circle was warm and welcoming. Like you." He kissed her. "The same feeling, being with you, being joined with you." He deepened the next kiss, and she lost herself in his touch.

When they broke for air and continued holding each other in comfortable silence, she regained her breath fully, clarifying, "Well, different Muggles think about them differently. Some spiritually, some scientifically… Some call them thin places; others multiverses, existing parallel to each other, but yes, they believe that there are points which touch, specifically, as well as broader theories regarding time and space that naturally include the points, the places where they touch. In fact…" Hermione hesitated to continue, but Sirius seemed to be waiting, keenly listening.
So she did. "There’s this Muggle, this physicist, Einstein… He said that time was relative."
Sirius smirked. "Physicist?"
"Yes, he saw and studied the world and universe in terms of matter and energy and the interactions between them—"

"Like a wizard? Arithmancy? Divination?"

Hermione smiled at him, enjoying the idea. "Well, yes, one could say he was a kind of a wizard, for Muggles." She chuckled softly and continued, "And from one of his theories, his theory of special relativity, other theories sprung, all about travelling into the future and parallel universes, thought transference, actually transferring yourself from one universe to another—"

"Like Magic? Apparating, Disapparating? Portkeys through time and space?"

"Well, yes, sort of." Her breath hitched. How to explain more clearly? "Let’s say, if it’s possible to manipulate a few electrons, an object you can see in front of you which exists simultaneously in a parallel universe—"

"Electrons? Objects? Manipulating, like casting a spell? What about a person? Like you?"

"Yes, like casting a spell on me… and you. Right. Exactly. We’re both in a multi-state condition, a spelled condition, and travelling through time or being propelled from one universe or dimension—"

"Hermione—" Sirius was giving her a very patient, but soon to be impatient, questionable look.

She bit her lip, searching for similarities that they could relate to in the Wizarding world. Her eyes took in the Gryffindor banner softly lit in his room, sparking her to recall associations. "Just say you see a Snitch flying through the air, but maybe in a second universe the Seeker has already caught it. Or looking the other way. Or they don't even play Quidditch there."

He smiled warmly. "Really, Hermione? Quidditch?"

She persisted, saying, "Then you're in Hog’s Head, meeting friends, having a Butterbeer or two. But in another universe, where your particles just can't keep up, you're actually at number twelve, Grimmauld Place still getting dressed."

"Or still nude."

"Yes, or still nude—" Hermione stopped and blinked. Is he laughing at me? "Sirius! Be—"

"Serious, I know."

"What am I going to do with you?" she murmured.

"Anything you like. I’m all yours."

"Anything?" You wonderful, exasperating man! She kissed him impulsively and nestled her head under his chin, enjoying his heat and hardness and the steady beating of his heart.

He clasped her lovingly, tightly, and kissed the top of her head again. "I feel this incredible, unexplainable connectedness with you… and I thought, well, I think… Look, my whole point of bringing this up in my clumsy, roundabout way is that—"

He paused, and she looked up again and saw that he was deciding on whether to say whatever was on his mind or not, which he bluntly proceeded to do. "Maybe all of this was meant, was supposed to happen."

Hermione blinked, stunned. "What?"

"Everything seems to come down to the same thing: thin places, multiverses, Muggle and magical force and energy. This was meant to happen."

As Hermione slowly rose to a full sitting position, Sirius sat firmly up, and then leaned back against the pillowed headboard with a look of hopeful expectation on his face.

She couldn’t respond as a million thoughts flew threw her mind, and he watched her intensely before quietly asking, "What is waiting for you to go back to?"

Hermione gave him a puzzled look, before answering, "The same as for you—our past lives... Our real lives."

"You’re not real? I’m not?"

He leaned forward and touched and stroked her slowly from her neck down across her breasts, gently laying his hand on her heart, her nipples hardening at his touch. "This isn’t real?"

"You know what I mean," she whispered.

"No." His look was earnest, and his voice was etched with a pained tone. "I don’t."

He removed his hand and shifted, sitting with one leg bent upwards and his arm stretched out on it. He looked at her, concerned.

"We were both cursed, against our wills," she pointed out slowly. "You said you wanted to return—"

"Did I? Yes, perhaps, before last night—"

"You said because here... here, Remus is dead; Nymphadora is dead. Everyone you knew and loved has passed on, crossed over here... And there, you have everyone, everyone you've spent a unique lifetime knowing and loving and living for."

"Not everyone." He gave her a fierce look.

Hermione gave him a bittersweet smile. "Yes, everyone. Even me. Well, the other me."

"She's not you," Sirius whispered out, his voice unable to hide the pain. "That Hermione is not you. She could never be." His jaw muscles clenched. "Nor do I want her to try to be."

"Sirius," she trembled as his raw emotion struck a chord, unnerving her, "our actions here can’t change our ultimate obligation: to reverse the curse that was wrongfully done to us, to return to our rightful universes—"

"What or who are you going back to?" he demanded.

"Our true lives, Sirius."

"And Weasley?"

"Ronald?"

"Yes. Your Ronald. There. You’re not engaged, no mutual bonding to one another. No Unbreakable Vows made…" Sirius must have seen her rising anxiety as he stopped momentarily, seeming to carefully choose his words. He took a long deep breath before saying, "You’d be going back to a loveless relationship—"

"I love Ron. We’ve known each other almost all our lives—"

"Yes, I know. I know, but it’s a friendship love, a childhood love—not this."

Hermione moaned softly as he gathered her in his arms and felt his lips, his kiss deepen; his hands touched her as if to record every inch of her into his memory, causing her to tremble as he heatedly repeated, whispering in her ear, "Not this…"

"Sirius, it’s difficult to listen to you when you…" she whispered, her voice trailing off, and she felt him pull back and saw him stare at the ceiling momentarily, apparently collecting his thoughts.

Once he seemed to regain his train of thought, he said, "This multiverse, parallel switch you’ve been going on about—that’s happened to both of us… Hear me out, please."

Hermione waited, her heart thudding hard as a definite ache spread in her chest, but this ache was new, twinged with dread.

"Let’s say the Hermione that was here has gone back to your universe. What has she found?" Before Hermione could speak, he held up a hand bidding her to wait and just listen to him. Continuing, answering his own question, he explained, "She’s found a Ron, an alive Ron, who she’s no longer in shock and mourning for, but rather, she is enjoying watching his chips eating, Butterbeer drinking, Quidditch playing self—very much in love with him and enjoying a second chance to be with him—"

"Are you finished?" she asked impatiently, ready to rebut his speculations.

"No, not yet… Hear me out." He proceeded slowly. "And say the Sirius from here has gone to my universe where he has discovered, I’m certain by now, a very different dynamic with the Hermione there. He’s discovered Weasley is alive and well. That that ginger is one lucky bastard. And no doubt, right now, that Sirius has moved on and found a way to enjoy life with other old friends, free from the guilt and loss of this universe."

Sirius’ eyes searched hers for understanding. "Given the choice to return to here, to a place where most of his best friends are dead, where he’s marked as an untrustworthy drunk by the Hermione here–which do you think he would choose? To return or stay where he is?"

Inexplicably, Hermione slowly pulled away. This was something that she had unconsciously wanted to avoid, to ignore somehow. How have our doppelgängers found their new lives, their second chances? Are they alive even? Dead? Incarcerated? Happy?

"We agreed we must go back, Sirius," she replied quietly.

"Did we?"

The strange painful sensation going through her pulsated, but she forced it aside to make her point. "I cannot not know how and what exactly happened. I must understand everything, must make a choice from knowledge, not ignorance, Sirius."

Sirius huffed, and then with the most earnestness she had ever seen, he swore, "I will help you, pledge to help you find whatever counter-curses to those used and whatever can be done to undo the Dark magic that has taken place, to discover and know how to reverse and return us... I vow to avenge the wrong that has been done us, Hermione." He took her hand in his gently. "But it doesn’t mean that a goodness hasn’t come from all of this; we don’t necessarily have to act on what we find. It’s the choices we make and the choices we don’t make now that matter." He searched her face with hope for a sign of agreement. "For us."

It pained her, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, "This wasn’t meant to happen. It wasn’t meant to be for either of us—us being here, together, was not the natural order or natural evolution of our lifetime in each of our respective universes… I’m supposed to still be living in a dimension of a near past, you in an almost tangible future, our dimensional universes flowing beside each other in their own respective speed, not overlapping, not intertwining, not connecting—"

Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, she felt an ache welling up inside her uncontrollably, causing her eyes to moisten up, but she forced herself to repeat, "This wasn’t supposed to happen, Sirius."

"This?"

"Us."

"But it did. We did."

"It was an accident—"

"A magical accident."

Hermione was speechless at this.

Sirius gave her a poignant look. "Accidents happen. One must make the best of it. And ours—ours was a truly magical accident, Hermione. Which did connect us; which did bring us together in the most irreversible way, regardless of what choices we make here on out."

The atmosphere had changed. Their brief idyll was now ended.

Brutal reality had reared its ugly head and forced the inescapable truth glaringly back in front of them. Between them. Breaking them apart.

Sirius had a desolate look on his face as he watched her get out of bed, picking up and dressing in her garments that had been strewn around.

As Hermione pulled her top on, Sirius slowly stood up and crossed over to her. "I’ve scared you, and that’s the last thing I wanted—"

"No. No, you haven’t. It’s just that I—" She couldn’t form a clear thought. "I need to think, Sirius. I need… to be alone with my thoughts and think about things."

"Alone? Think?"

"I—We need to get back to the Ministry. As soon as possible."

Hermione blinked away tears that were threatening to escape. She shut her eyes tight as Sirius carefully held her and kissed her gently on the lips, his touch and taste slowly undoing her will to resist him.

She struggled within, knowing that she needed to have a clear head. "Sirius… Sirius, listen to me," she softly begged. "I need you to be patient with me."

"I am," he murmured as he began to plant a trail of soft pecks up and down her neck.

Tensing, she repeated, "I need—we need to get to the Ministry. We’re expected there."

He stopped nuzzling her and slowly stepped back.

She had to stay firm and clarified, "I can’t think straight. I need to find answers to our… situation."

He gave her a curious look, a stern but defeated one, painful to see, causing her to finish dressing, pulling her tracksuit trousers on hurriedly.

As Hermione picked up her wand, she heard him say, "I won’t detain you further."

She looked at him and saw that his features had turned neutral, his stance centred and detached, and then he shouted abruptly, "Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared with a pop in between them.

"I believe the Mistress has something to say." He gave her an indifferent look. "My clothing?"

Hermione gasped softly and ordered, "Kreacher, return Sirius his clothing and freedom to leave."

Kreacher snapped his fingers and Sirius was fully dressed instantly. As she watched him adjust and tuck his freshly laundered garments, Hermione felt her cheeks flush and slightly light-headed at the sudden change of coolness in the air and chemistry between them.

"Master is dressed and free," croaked the old house-elf and popped out.

She saw Sirius Accio his wand and calmly announce, "You’re right. The Ministry is waiting for us. There’s work to be done. How could I forget that?" He crossed to the door to exit but stopped to inform her, "I’ll be downstairs waiting for you at the Floo."

He gave her one last look, saying, "Don’t forget the books. I know how much you need them." Then he left.

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she grabbed her wand and shakily picked up A Translation of Herpo the Great’s Treatises of Fundamental Magical Truths from the floor, the final remnant of their recent hours of passion, and very slowly, she went down to dress for returning to the Ministry of Magic.

She collected Constellations of the Magical Heavens and the other objects, strewn around the bed in the master bedroom, and with a wave of her wand, she shrunk them all with a quick Diminuendo and put them in her cloak’s pocket.

She slowly made her way downstairs to the fireplace where Sirius waited patiently, seemingly aloof.

He suggested that she Floo first, separately, and he would quickly follow, saying, "It’s perhaps best if we didn’t arrive anymore at the exact same time, together."

She hesitated and felt numb, not knowing if he was respecting her immediate wish to keep some distance to think properly or if… She shook her head, trying to keep strong, knowing that she needed all of her wits about her to think through everything.

With a heavy, nagging sensation, she thought, Who knows what we’ll have to face today! And… and how could Sirius truly believe that this was supposed to happen to us? And how do I know for certain it wasn’t? And does it matter? What if we are stuck here? What if we can’t find a way to undo what has been done? Would that be so terrible?

Even the feeling of dread and anticipation of what she would further find and what choices there would be to make were not as strong as the miserable feeling she had of experiencing Sirius visibly detaching himself from her in body and spirit.

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Hermione sat bereft at her desk in her office.

Uncharacteristic to his nature, Sirius had stoically escorted her, once Flooing to the Ministry of Magic. Silently, they rode the lifts to their offices’ level. And silently, they headed to their separate office doors, but as she turned the handle, Sirius suddenly stood close beside her, saying, "Let me first."

She saw that he had his wand gripped tightly in his other hand, and the memories of Borgin and Burkes came crashing down around her: everything they had shared and who their main, mutual suspects were and the possible dangers that lay ahead struck her to the core.

Sirius seemed to read her thoughts, as he said in a low, barely audible voice, "Just keep appearances up, as is. The past two days never happened: Borgin and Burkes never happened; we never happened."
Hermione felt more confused than ever and searched his eyes for an answer.

"Pretend it never happened—you’re good at that," he clarified bitterly.

What is he saying? "Sirius—"

"If Flint and Parkinson are indeed who and what we believe they are… They must not suspect that we are on to them, yes? At all cost. Understood?"

"At all cost?" she questioned seeing a reckless flash of daring in his eyes.

Seeming to ignore her question, Sirius pointed out, "And you don’t go anywhere without me or—well, just inform me of each and every place you need to go: the Restricted Section, the Department of Mysteries, wherever your findings take you."

Familiar warmth, softening his harsh expression, appeared briefly as he whispered, "If anything happens to me, confide in Harry. He’ll help you. Help you in any way he can to get back to where you wish, where you truly belong."

"Sirius?" She gasped. "What do you mean tell Harry? What are you planning to do?"

His voice became louder, as if he were listing points to someone else. "You have work to do. I have work to do." He made a nod behind him, indicating something or someone, and said, "Anything, and I mean anything you further discover relevant to us, this case, inform me immediately."

He snapped back into a fully authoritative tone as Minister Shacklebolt was seen in sight, coming towards them. "Understood, Auror Granger?"

Sirius swung her door open, his dark grey eyes flashing, obviously searching for Flint as he bounded inside.

But the office was empty. Marcus was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione walked in, crossing to her desk, glancing around, wishing she could confront Sirius about his unknown, impulsive plans. The Minister is here, but Sirius has that wild look in his eyes. Oh God, I hope he doesn’t plan to do anything rash!
She gave a quick glance around before giving Sirius an urgent look, saying, "I’ll talk with you soon. I need to talk to you soon, about everything."

"One can always hope," he flashed a cheeky grin, "Can’t they, sweetheart? Good morning, Minister."

"Sirius," greeted Shacklebolt, and then he saw Hermione and smiled. "Hermione, thank you for getting our Head Auror back on his feet." He turned to Sirius. "I need to brief you on some vital information; some updates since we last saw each other."

"My office is your office, Minister. Shall we?" Sirius waved his hand towards it.

Flustered, Hermione listened with anxious curiosity. The Minister seemed aware of this as he gave her a knowing smile, informing, "Then, I’ll call you in."

"Yes, sir."

Hermione looked at Sirius, his jaws clenched, and then at Marcus’ empty desk. She turned directly to Shacklebolt, asking, "Sir?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Where is Flint?"

Kingsley gave a thoughtful look and replied, "I believe the Senior Undersecretary requested to see him."

"The Senior Undersecretary?" asked Hermione, confused.

She searched Sirius’ face for any outward sign of concern, but found none, which only caused her to be more alarmed for some reason. But a Senior Undersecretary would be Shacklebolt’s second-in-command, answerable only to him as the Minister for Magic and no one else. But that—that can’t be! Don’t tell me Dolores Umbridge still holds a position here!

She had forgotten how different this universe was: the intense past hours spent with Sirius had been a blissful interlude for her, temporarily erasing anything before. But at the mention of the odious position of the Senior Undersecretary, hearing it brought her back to this stark reality and the sobering, multiple possibilities that could exist that she hadn’t even a clue about here in this universe, possibly affecting everything. Umbridge created the Muggle-Born Registration Commission when Voldemort was indirectly controlling the Ministry! What all has that evil toad done here? And Flint is with her?

Hermione felt her chest tightening.

"Yes, Hermione." Shacklebolt gently reminded her, "Senior Undersecretary Malfoy."

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Parallel Dilemma