FOUR
JUNE 21st, 1995
“I am going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? WHERE?” Bellatrix screeched, digging the point of her wand deep into the flesh of Hermione’s cheek.
“We found it - we found it - PLEASE!”
Bellatrix was laughing bitterly as Hermione screamed. She was aflame. Every tiny cell in her body was spasming. Needles were ripping into her insides. She must be dead, she must.
“You lying little Mudblood filth! Tell me the fucking truth!” She couldn’t breathe. Every inhale was agony, waiting for the next blow. She couldn’t give in, she couldn’t. “CRUCIO!” It was better to be dead. Please, oh please, let her stop breathing. Let it end.
“It’s a copy! Just a copy!” Blood and bile sputtered from her mouth as she spoke. The world went mercifully black for a moment before Hermione felt herself splitting open again.
When it stopped, Hermione thought it must finally be time for them to kill her. Beautiful, beautiful death would come and the pain would end. And then her arm exploded with pain. She begged for the curse, begged to be tortured again. The pain from the knife was like none she had ever known. The torment was unrelenting as Bellatrix sliced into her skin, over and over. Blood poured from the cursed wound as she convulsed. It was like her body was being turned inside out like her skin was being pulled off her muscles like her muscles were being pulled off her bones. Hermione realized she was screaming and tried to close her mouth, snuff out the sounds. No matter how hard she tried to will herself to stop, her screams reverberated off the walls.
“HERMIONE!” Ron was yelling for her. She tried calling for him, but unintelligible wails were all that could leave her mouth, “HERMIONE!”
“Hermione! Fuck! Hermione, wake up! Rennervate! Wake up, please!” Sirius held Hermione’s thrashing shoulders to the bed while she shrieked, in pain. In terror. “Hermione!” Her eyes flew open and she shoved him aside, her wand immediately in her hand and pointing at his chest. “Hermione…” His voice became softer, more subdued, “You’re okay. It’s me. Sirius. You’re at Grimmauld Place. It’s okay,” Her eyes searched his, confusion and pain contorting her face. “Please lower your wand. I am not going to hurt you,” He was alarmed at the state of this Hermione. He had seen her as a teenager only a few months ago in the cave near Hogsmeade. She had been so young and bright and full of life. This Hermione was gaunt, hollow-faced, and her stare was hard and unblinking as she tried to calm her nerves. She slowly lowered her wand, sinking back down to sit on the bed.
“Sirius, I am so sorry. I should have known they would be worse now that everything is out of sorts,” She couldn’t look him in the eye as her cheeks reddened. She knew he must have heard her screaming. The scar on her arm throbbed in pain and she winced.
“Hermione, what is going on?” Sirius moved to sit on the bed next to her and she shifted further away, “What the fuck happened that made you scream like that?”
“It was just a bad dream, I get them all the time,” She insisted. She pushed her sweaty hair away from her face and put her wand on the bedside table. “Really, Sirius. I’m okay,” She looked up at him finally and his grey eyes were shining with disbelief in the dim glow of his wand.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. I know the type of things that have to happen to cause nightmares like that,” he shuddered, the sharp smell of the sea in his nostrils, “I can remember every single moment on that island, and that doesn’t change when I’m trying to sleep.” She shook her head at him, not wanting to give anything away. If he knew, if only he knew what Bellatrix would do to him, and what Bellatrix would do to her.
“Sirius, I can’t tell you. I can’t.”
“So it’s something that hasn’t happened to this time’s Hermione?” His face was etched with concern, “Something that hasn’t happened yet?” His voice was so gentle, so full of worry, that Hermione found it hard not to burst into tears. She had never talked about what happened to her in Malfoy Manor. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were the only ones she would have wanted to talk to, but they were gone.
“I…Sirius…” he stared at her, crestfallen. “You don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”
“You obviously aren’t fine, Hermione,” he muttered, bitterly, “Is there anything you need?”
“No. Please just go back to bed,” realizing she was only in her underclothes, she pulled the covers back around her. Pain coursed through her forearm and she covered it quickly. Sirius stood, eyes cast down and walked slowly from the room, shutting the door behind him. How could she have been so stupid? She was very thankful for the darkness of the room. He had almost seen the bright red scar on her arm, she had almost revealed a secret that would surely send him running to Hogwarts to stop Harry from competing. She had to be more careful. “ Muffliato, ” She cast the spell to drown out another possible nightmare, but she didn’t think that she would be going back to sleep tonight.
Hermione slid down off the bed and pulled her small beaded bag to her. She had long since redone the Undetectable Extension Charm off of it. She let out a genuine laugh as she pulled out her Blackberry, she would make billions if she showed this off in 1994. Under her notebook, tucked behind the lining of the bag, was Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. Hermione felt that it was fate; she had kept it on her every day since Harry had died. It would certainly be useful.
What would happen if everything changed? What would happen to this Hermione if she stopped everything that had happened in the second war? Should she stop Voldemort from coming back in three days time? If she did that, he would only grow stronger, only build his body back together in a different way. Wouldn’t he? She’d have to do some Arithmancy equations to figure it out.
A shiver ran through Hermione and she stood, opening Sirius’ wardrobe. Most of it was Muggle clothing which didn’t surprise her. She grabbed a long-sleeved t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms. Pulling them on, she grabbed her notebook from her bag and curled up on the bed again. Time to make a plan.
JUNE 21st, 1995
Hermione was downstairs in the kitchen, surrounded by quills and parchment when Sirius finally woke up and came to find her. He stopped short at the sight of her wearing his pyjama pants loose around her waist. His mouth went dry at the sight of her, barefoot in his kitchen, wearing his clothes. For fuck's sake, this was his godson’s teenage best friend. He cleared his throat, the sound intensifying the pounding in his head. She turned, a bright smile on her face. The dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced than when he had woken her from her nightmare. She must not have slept after he’d left her alone. Though she definitely didn’t look as hungover as he felt. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to supply the house with Pepper-Up potions, since he generally liked to wallow in his pain.
She vanished the parchment on the table. “Good morning,” She said as she put sizzling sausages on a plate. She walked over to the table with two plates of food and sat one down in front of Sirius.
“Wow, thank you, Hermione,” Sirius pulled the plate and utensils towards him. As he ate, Sirius realized this was the first real meal that he’d had since he was staying with Remus, after leaving Hogwarts last year. Sirius was helpless in the kitchen. He’d always had a house-elf to supply for him - whether at Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts, or home at the Potters’. He’d been snacking and getting Remus to bring him food from the Leaky for the past two days. Hermione had transfigured the measly offerings that his cupboards offered into more enticing food.
“I didn’t know what you liked so I made a bit of everything…” Hermione pushed the eggs around on her plate while she watched him eat.
“I like everything,” he grinned at her with a piece of bacon hanging from between his cheeks. She giggled as he slurped the whole thing into his mouth. “Where did you learn how to cook?”
“When Harry, Ron, and I were-” she stopped short, her throat tight. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat, “I had to do a lot of it.”
Sirius searched her face, putting down his fork. “Need to know, right?” She nodded, eyes cast down, “Okay. Well anyway, you’re great at it.” He took another large bite of eggs. “What do you want to do today? Remus should be over later.”
“Shall we find a room for me to sleep in?” Hermione scrapped the contents of her plate onto his.
“You should eat… we didn’t eat much while drinking yesterday,” Sirius pushed the plate towards her, frowning. Hermione shook her head, twisting her hands together. “Hermione, I mean it. You clearly didn’t get enough sleep last night and you need to eat and then take a long nap.” Her eyes met his and he could see the exhaustion there. He shuddered, recalling how her screams had ripped him from his own dream. He didn’t even have to think before blowing the door open to his room, to find her writhing in pain.
“Sirius, drop it,” she begged, hand reaching out for his. “I promise I will eat later, I just don’t feel well and want to get to doing something to take my mind off all...” she gestured to the room with her free hand, “... this.”
Sirius sighed, “Fine. Let’s go find a room,” He stood, flicking his wand and sending the empty plates to the sink. With another wave, they started washing themselves. Hermione followed him past the covered picture of Walburga Black and the mounted house-elves she had forgotten about. They climbed to the top landing, where Sirius’ room was. However, he turned to Regulus’ room instead of his own. The room was as they both remembered it. Sirius hadn’t been in here since the two of them were in school. Teenage Hermione wouldn’t enter the room for another three years.
“You want me to stay in here?” She asked as she walked over, looking over all of the clippings that covered the walls. Sirius took a deep breath and moved towards her.
“It’s the most comfortable room, apart from mine. Besides, people like Dumbledore won’t go looking in here. Or Harry, if he can come to stay with me this summer.” He lifted his wand, “Evanesco!” Before she could stop him every bit of Slytherin paraphernalia disappeared into the tip of Sirius’ wand. She spun to look at the sparse walls. It was suddenly very different than the room she would walk into three summers from now. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and her vision started to blur. Sirius moved in front of her as her breathing quickened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and led her to the emerald chair in the corner.
Hermione couldn’t take a deep breath. If the room had changed, what else had her presence ruined? It was like a hippogriff had kicked her in the chest. Oh god, what if she couldn’t change anything at all? She would have to watch everyone die all over again. Sirius was talking to her, she knew, but she couldn’t hear through the ragged breathing in her ears.
“Hermione, look at me. Look at me! What happened?” Sirius was rubbing her shoulders as she gasped for breath. “Hermione! Look at me!” Hermione’s eyes finally locked with his and the terror that shone in them caused his throat to tighten. His grey eyes did not leave hers, determined to do something to help. He continued to whisper to her, hold her.
“Sirius,” She gasped and burst into tears. She moved towards him and placed her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried. He didn’t know what to do but hold her and rub small circles on her back. Her fluffy hair tickled his nose as he held her close. He had only ever been this close to her once before when he had wrapped his arms around her on the back of Buckbeak the night they had rescued him. But now she wasn’t that 14-year-old girl.
Sirius couldn’t help but relish the feeling of being this close to her. He hadn’t had physical contact from a woman like this in years. He felt safe, holding on to Hermione. He smoothed her hair down and whispered assurances in her ear as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. He could feel the pain of her sobs, deep in his gut. Sirius desperately wished Hermione would tell him and let him hold some of this burden for her. He knew it must be hard to have her entire world turned upside down and end up in a new place… or an old place, in her case.
Hermione felt so lost. She couldn’t stop the flood now that it had started. The plan she had made last night in her small notebook seemed futile. The man whose shoulder she was crying on would be dead in a year. Harry would be dead. Remus, Ron, Ginny. Why had she been sent back? How was she supposed to be the one to fix everything, to save everyone? That was the reason she was here, wasn’t it? The weight of her being here settled on her chest like a Dementor had entered the room. It was so cold and she was so alone.
“I’m right here, Hermione,” Sirius murmured in her ear, “I’m right here.”