Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, but work, studies and my other fic got in the way of writing. Plus, I have since discovered that writing a story all on my own is a rather tough task, given how I brainstorm with my co-writers for my other two stories on this site. Anyway, I won't delay this chapter any further! Hope it's an enjoyable read!
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Thanks a ton for all the reviews. They made me find time to get back to this story and get down to completing this chapter.
To the reviewer who asked if I'm giving up on this fic – no, I'm not :) Updates may be a little sparse as I have exams coming up. But I won't give up on this!
And Christine Rose, thank you for all the ASoIaF fic recommendations! I loved reading them! :)
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The Darkest Black: Chapter 5
Sirius stood at the door, livid, eyes blazing with a fury that would have made a lesser woman flinch. But Hermione stood firm, meeting his gaze defiantly, though she found her fingers tightening their grip on her wand, seeking strength in the familiar length of wood which wasn't the wand she'd used since she was eleven, but which felt as much a part of her as her original wand had.
"Sirius!" exclaimed Regulus, ashen-faced in the light streaming from the chandeliers. And for once, his young face showed none of the cheerfulness it had carried since she'd had first looked at him.
"Get out," said Sirius, his voice low and level, but laced with command and rage.
He had, Hermione registered dimly, addressed Regulus and not her. He hadn't even glanced at her after the first wrathful glare he had shot her.
"Sirius—it's all my fault—" began Regulus, sounding younger than he previously had. "I brought Hermione here—I broke into your room, she didn't even want to come in. I brought her here!"
Hermione glanced sideways at Regulus sharply, touched and stunned in equal measure that Regulus was taking all the blame. It was she who had been trying to break in, she who had coaxed Regulus into letting her in. And she wouldn't subject the boy to a Death Eater's ire – especially of a Death Eater who was as furious as Sirius was now.
"It's not his fault," she said firmly. "I wanted to look into your room—I was just curious—"
"No! It was me!" said Regulus stubbornly.
"Regulus, get out," growled Sirius, still not taking his eyes off his younger brother, and Hermione realised that this was the first time she had heard Sirius addressing Regulus by his name rather than the affectionate Reggie. And it was that – the name growled in a tone that merited no protest – which seemed to make Regulus give up.
"I—I'm sorry," whispered Regulus to his brother, before glancing apologetically at Hermione and swiftly leaving the room.
It was then that Sirius finally looked at her, with a potent rage that she had never seen in the Sirius of her world, not even when he had locked horns with Snape.
"What are you up to?" Sirius demanded, his voice icy, contrasting with the way his eyes were alight with fury.
"What do you mean?" she said, holding his blazing glare.
He said nothing, staring at her calculatingly – something in his gaze reminding her of her Sirius. But it was only momentary, because his eyes turned darker, boring into hers with an intensity that didn't let her look away.
And then, the spell came – swift and unexpected: "Legilimens!"
The force with which he plunged into her mind made her stagger physically – scenes flitting through her mind's eye: meeting Harry for the first time in the Hogwarts Express… screaming her voice hoarse in Malfoy Manor as Bellatrix's Crutiatus Curse made excruciating pain sear through limbs, her nerves, her very soul… twirling the Time Turner thrice, watching memories and time speed around them—
"Protego!" she screamed out, her mind – conditioned through years of practice – rapidly clearing itself of memories, stowing them away beneath the calm surface she had swiftly erected, safe from prying minds. But suddenly, instead of her own memories, she could see different ones now: a little dark-haired boy snuggling into his mother's embrace as she told him that he would one day be Lord Sirius Orion Black III, who would champion the cause of purebloods… a jeering Rabastan Lestrange aiming a Leg-Locking jinx at him, but Bellatrix' curse deflecting the jinx as she cursed Rabastan for daring to jinx her little cousin, while his own heart burned with embarrassment that the Heir to House Black had needed his older cousin to defend him from bullies… the same boy, but a little older now, glancing shyly at the pretty blonde-haired Hermione Greengrass, his face flaming when she smiled at him and he wondered whether she fancied him too…the long wand moving over his wrist, the Dark Lord's words thundering in his ears as he swallowed the shrieks of pain that threatened to tear out of his throat as the spell burnt through the skin of his wrist, the Dark Mark burning deeper into the reddened skin… his own wand pointing at the Black Family Tapestry, his spell burning Andromeda's face off the tapestry, while Mother and Father looked on proudly, making his heart soar at the pride in their eyes, while something in him seemed to simultaneously shatter… watching the mirrored reflection of Hermione, her wand work on her hair, taking off the pins that had set them into the elegant style – pins that matched the blue of her wedding robes… robes he couldn't wait to take off, his lips curling into an eager smirk – a smirk which slid off when she turned around to face him, saying words that made his heart clench painfully—
And then, suddenly, she found the back of her head stinging agonisingly as it whacked against the wall behind her.
"How dare you!" Sirius snarled, and for a moment, she merely stared at him from, stunned, the memories she had seen flashing rapidly in her mind's eyes – of the little boy who had glanced at her younger self so very shyly, of how excruciating pain had flooded his being when his wrist had been branded with the Dark Mark, of how his heart had seemed fit to burst with the love he felt for Hermione on their wedding night—but most of all, of how he had tried to cover the pain he had felt at Andromeda's disownment with the joy he felt at his parents' pride… it was that pain which told her that deep inside his dark heart, he still bore signs of the Sirius from her world, the one who had loved his cousin even after she eloped with a Muggleborn.
Perhaps, she was misreading his pain; perhaps, it stemmed from the pain of disowning the cousin he had been so close to. But there had been something in that memory – an inscrutable expression that had flitted across his younger face, that gave her hope.
But his tall figure towering over her body, which was sprawled on the floor, shook her out of her thoughts. If Sirius had been furious earlier, there was no word that could adequately describe the acute ire on his visage. And she was glad that she still had her wand, that she hadn't dropped it when she had hit the wall.
And this time when his spell came, she was prepared for it.
"Obliviate!" he snarled, no doubt wishing to erase the memories she had seen, wanting to share no part of him with the woman he so hated.
But her wand moved quickly, deflecting his Obliviate with a well-directed spell of her own. She got to her feet swiftly – as swiftly as she could with the legs that were slightly longer than her real ones, making her stumble slightly; it would still take her some time to get used to her new limbs, she thought absently.
"Stupefy!" he roared almost immediately, and she knew he was desperate to erase her mind, to bolster his sagging pride that had been bested by the Shield Charm she had earlier instinctively put on, giving her access to his deepest thoughts.
"Expelliarmus!" she flung back. But he was far too quick on his feet, dancing away from the red jet of the Disarming Spell.
His wand twirled again, a spell shooting out of its tip; but she met it midway with a spell of her own, feeling adrenaline beginning to surge through her. It had been years since she had duelled like this… duelled with someone who was hell-bent on harming her, with a loss meaning that her very life could be forfeit… but despite the lack of practice, she found herself meeting Sirius' spells strongly, never letting any spell get close to her, all the while attempting to disarm him or disable him with a Stunning Curse.
But if she was good, he was better – no doubt borne out of how frequently he duelled with what was left of the Order compared to how her last real duel had been at the Battle of Hogwarts with Bellatrix Lestrange, six years ago. There was also the added drawback of how she still had to get used to her new body – with its high-heeled feet and long-fingered hands that hindered her spell-casting and agility.
"Inarcerous!" she shouted, elated when her spell hit him, ropes emerging out of thin air and coiling around him, binding him tight.
But then he was uttering whispered incantations – wandless magic, she realised; and far too swiftly, she found the ropes disappearing, and a strong Shield Charm coming up to stop her Stunning Spell.
He faced her again then, standing in a combative stance, his wand pointing at her, sparks at his wandtip, while her wand aimed at him too, her chest heaving, adrenaline rushing through her veins, her feet ready to move at an instant's notice, her wrist ready to move her wand motion the minute he cast his spell.
But Sirius' spell never came, for he continued staring at her not with fury now, but with a gaze that was calculating, with a hint of bewilderment sprinkled in.
"Who are you?" he said, his voice a low whisper.
She stiffened instinctively, her breath catching in her throat.
Did Hermione Greengrass not cast spells at her arse of her husband? Was she some meek, obeying wife who didn't duel with her husband? Was she not supposed to have defended herself against his spells?
Or had Sirius seen her memories that had flitted so very rapidly in her mind's eyes? Had he been able to watch her memories clearly enough to make sense of them and determine that they couldn't have belonged to his wife?
Whatever it was, her secret was out, it seemed. And she needed to think quickly enough to salvage whatever she could of the quandary she found herself in.
"Who are you?" he repeated, his voice harsh and heavy with warning now.
"Hermione," she replied, glad that her voice was steady. "Hermione Greengrass."
"Where did we first meet?" he asked her, suspicion clouding his gaze now, his brow furrowed, while sparks continued to fly out of his wand.
Hermione said nothing, her mind searching furiously for a response, hoping and wishing there were at least some memories of Hermione Greengrass left in the body she had presently occupied. But she found nothing – no memory at all, nothing that seemed a plausible reply to Sirius' question. Where could she have met him? In school? In the Hogwarts Express like she had met Ron and Harry? Or in some pureblood function if their families were in the same social circle?
"Whom were you named after?" Sirius demanded, his voice a whisper again, as his suspicion gave way to rage again, while Hermione could feel her heart thudding madly in her chest. She didn't have an answer to that. Her parents had named her Hermione after the character in Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale. But Hermione Greengrass' parents certainly had no knowledge of a Muggle playwright's works! So what on earth could she reply?
She knew absolutely nothing about Hermione Greengrass, she realised, her extremities beginning to turn cold. Though she shared her name and her brown eyes with her dimensional counterpart, hardly anything else about their lives seemed to be identical. She had no answers to Sirius' questions…
But she had to save herself from the certain curses he'd send at her. If he knew who she was – Hermione from another Universe, from another time altogether, he would certainly take her to Voldemort! And she couldn't let that happen. She would be killed for certain, but Voldemort would torture information out of her: about the Prophecy, her knowledge of the Horcruxes, of Harry's destiny, of all that could happen in this dimension. And she couldn't let that happen! She couldn't die—and she certainly couldn't let Voldemort take all those innocent lives again: James, Lily, Remus, Tonks, Mad Eye Moody, even Fred – they were all alive here, and it was up to her to save her. And for that, she would need to save herself.
And so, she let the wand drop from her cold hand, and stared at Sirius, glad when she saw bewilderment flitting through his eyes at her action.
"I don't remember," she whispered, the trembling of her voice needing barely any effort. "I don't remember, Sirius—"
"What do you mean you don't remember?" he demanded coldly, but she thought she saw his fury softening imperceptibly.
"When I woke up in the morning—I—I couldn't remember—I don't know what's happening to me—"
"You're lying!" he hissed, and she guessed she had been wrong about his anger abating. "You're not Hermione—you're not my Hermione!" There was something in his tone, something that seemed like possessiveness, something like concern, something that belied how he still cared for his Hermione beneath all the tough, hateful façade he put on. And she knew it was that she needed to capitalise on.
"I am Hermione!" she cried earnestly, watching him stiffen slightly, his wand still pointing at her. "I just can't remember—"
His wand moved, her own wand moving a split second too late; but when his spell hit hers, she didn't find herself falling or being Stunned, but only felt the spell washing over her, making her feel warm and cold at the same time – and she knew what he had cast: the counter-spell for Illusion spells and Glamour charms, for concealments and enchantments, a variant of the spell that was imbued in the waters of the Thief's Downfall at Gringotts, a spell that washed away all disguises and countered the effects of potions like Polyjuice and even Dark Curses like the Imperius…
"I told you!" she said indignantly when Sirius' perplexed expression indicated that the spell had kept her unchanged – because her body was still Hermione Greengrass', without any enchantments in place. "I told you I'm Hermione Greengrass! Hermione Black, because I'm married to you! I just can't remember stuff—it must have been the accident! I hit my head—and now I can't remember things!"
He sighed, seeming suddenly younger when the frown and wariness disappeared from his features. He stared at her, seemingly at a loss of what to say, though she thought he believed her now.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "I asked you if you're fine—I asked you if you want to visit the Mind Healer."
"I was scared!" she exclaimed, hoping she was sounding genuine. "I was scared because you are being so rude—and—and frightening!" she went on, a formulating a plan quickly. She knew things had once been good between Sirius and her—well, her dimensional counterpart, rather. But something had gone wrong… things had gone awry, making Sirius hate her. But if she managed to find out what exactly had soured things between them, and then managed to set them right, wouldn't she be able to influence Sirius towards distancing himself from the Dark side and moving towards the Light?
She could do that – she had to believe she could… because she couldn't watch yet another Sirius Black waste his life. The Sirius in her world had lived a third of his life in Azkaban, and then spent the last two years of his short-lived life in misery and gloominess, before departing with one last flourish – though Bellatrix Lestrange had beaten him even in that, sending him plummeting into the Veil. But this Sirius – this nineteen-year-old Sirius Black who was so young, who had so much of his life ahead of him – she couldn't let him throw his life away, especially for Voldemort. And she would do all that she could, even if it meant feigning memory loss, to set things right in this world, to use her knowledge to vanquish Voldemort… and most of all, to save innocent lives that had been gone before their time in her world, including the fuming young man who stood before her.
But when she saw his lips pursing again, his gaze narrowing, and her hopes sunk. But she ploughed on, undaunted. "I was scared," she repeated, "because you're behaving so differently—as if you hate me! But I know we weren't like this—so—so I brought Reg here, to see for myself—"
"And what were you doing with Potter, then? In the Hogwarts Express?" demanded Sirius coldly, putting paid to whatever little hopes she had left that her lies had convinced him. It was clear now that he had seen and made sense of the quickly-flitting memories in her mind. The pre-teen Harry in her memory looked like James to him.
"I don't know what that was," she said, groping for and failing to find a believable enough answer. "I don't know, Sirius!"
"Why was Bella torturing you? What the fuck was that? And the Time Turner? Where did you get that from? You've never had access to one! And I know you didn't nick it from the Ministry yesterday because you never entered the Time Room! Answer me!"
"I don't know!" she cried, "I told you! I don't remember anything!"
"You expect me to believe this tosh?" he hissed, though there was a hint of unsureness beneath his scoffing tone. "You think I'll believe that you don't remember anything—you don't remember what you were doing with Potter? With that Time Turner? You don't remember how you destroyed everything between us!" He paused abruptly, eyes blazing again, but she noticed how he seemed to be concealing how affected he was by the recollection of whatever had gone wrong between them.
"I don't remember!" she said earnestly. "Tell me! Tell me what went wrong," she said, moving forwards, watching him stiffen as the distance between them lessened.
But she barely moved her hand to touch his arm, when he stepped away from her, breathing rapidly.
"I get it, Greengrass," he said curtly, all hint of the bewilderment gone from his tone. He seemed to have made up his mind about not believing her hastily-concocted claims. "I get it. You've been planning all this since morning, haven't you? Behaving all differently, trying to manipulate me with your tricks and lies. But I'm not going to fall for it again. You stick to our deal. Keep my family happy, behave like a devoted, loving wife when we have company—but when we're alone, you're nothing to me—"
"Why!" she demanded indignantly. "What went wrong? Tell me!"
However, he turned away, snorting with what seemed like disgust and revulsion.
But suddenly, he let out a pained 'Ah!' that made her walk to him despite herself. And she found the Dark Mark on his arm shining a dark, glittering black, the skin around it a fierce red, as he shut his eyes in visible agony.
"I have to go now," he murmured through gritted teeth, and she knew the Mark was hurting him, though she knew not how to go about asking him why Voldemort was beckoning him with such urgency. After how he seemed suspicious of her, she deemed it better to give him some space, at least for the time being.
He gestured to the door, pulling back his sleeve over the Mark. "The Dark Lord is waiting for me," he said gruffly. "So get out of here. And if you ever enter my room again, you will regret it, Greengrass. You know I don't make empty threats."
She merely nodded, biting back a scathing retort about how he didn't scare her in the least. At any other time, she would have beaten someone – even someone as skilled at duelling as Sirius – rather quickly. But her spell-casting and usually swift thinking had been impeded by her overwhelming at the unforeseen dilemma she had found herself, by how – for probably the first time in her life – she was in a situation where she knew next to nothing about the world around her, and even strangely, where no books could help her gain knowledge of the unknown.
Moreover, Sirius Black was a mystery that she just couldn't seem to unravel. He had confused and perplexed her with how quickly he went from furious to uncertain to furious again, from beginning to believe her to stating that it was all an act she was putting on. She couldn't make head or tail of the man. She didn't understand him at all. But she would with time, she decided firmly.
"Greengrass," he called out to her when she reached the door.
"Yes?"
"Keep away from my brother," he said, his voice laced with warning again.
"He's my friend," she said, after a beat.
"I don't know what you're up to," said Sirius; she saw his hand moving to his sleeve-covered forearm, and she knew Voldemort was furious at Sirius' lateness. "But if I find out that you're using Reggie for your own ends or putting him in danger, I swear to you, you'll regret ever having been born."
She said nothing, biting back a furious retort with great effort, and then turned away, hearing the door to his room shut the moment she walked out of it.
"Kreacher!" she heard Sirius' faint voice calling to the elf as she walked down the stairs, stopping only when she reached the room she shared with Sirius.
She shut the door behind her, casting a quick charm that would alert her when someone neared the room. And only then did she take out the newspaper she had taken from Sirius' study, deciding that this would be where she would begin to gather as much information on this world as she could.
'EXPLOSION IN THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES' proclaimed the bold headlines.
An explosion ripped through the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic late yesterday evening, injuring fifty-seven people, including Head of the Department, Antiquis Blishwick, and three Unspeakables.
The magical explosion blasted apart part of the Ministry building, injuring several people in the vicinity of the Department. With the secrecy which has always shrouded the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry is understandably not forthcoming with information. But our sources claim that the explosion has caused irreversible damage to several ancient and rare magical artefacts and records held by the Ministry, including destroying all of the Ministry's Time Turners and several Prophecies that were housed in Hall of Prophecies which is rumoured to be housed in the Department.
While the cause of the explosion isn't clear as yet, an Auror, on the condition of anonymity, stated that though preliminary investigations suggest the explosion was carried out on the orders of He Who Must Not Be Named, there had been no security breach in the Department, whose security had been recently taken up by the Auror Force following a threat perception from the Lestrange brothers.
Unverified reports claim that the injured included Aurors Savage and Dawlish, who were guarding the Department, member of the Wizengamot, Augusta Longbottom, and two female members of House Black: Narcissa Black-Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, and Hermione Greengrass-Black, wife of Sirius Black, Heir to House Black. An eye-witness also claimed to have seen Mr Black bodily pull out his bleeding wife out of the wreckage.
Hermione read through the rest of the report with disbelief, reminded acutely of the destruction suffered by the Department of Mysteries during the fight for the Prophecy in their fifth year. While the damage caused was nowhere near what this explosion had caused, Hermione noticed the similarities: some of the prophecies getting smashed, all the Time Turners getting destroyed…
She thought of the Department of Mysteries in her world, where she had been working since four years. And she thought back, with a pang, to her ongoing research on the Love Room. Her work would be left unfinished until she got back, she thought gloomily, as she looked at the words of the report that had thoroughly shaken her: The Time Turners… destroyed… all of them…
It was only now, with the door securely shut to the Blacks, with Sirius and his fury out of the house, with the admittance of the vulnerability and hopelessness that only solitude could evoke, that she allowed herself to dwell on the enormity of the destruction of the Time Turners. Though she hadn't spelled it out clearly, even to herself, she had been patching up a plan in the back of her mind. Since the moment her panic at finding herself in a different world had calmed down, she had begun thinking of a way to get her back to Harry and Ron – a plan that had involved using a Time Turner. Her job at the Department of Mysteries had given her an insight into just how unimaginably deep, diverse and far-reaching magic was. And she had hoped to somehow at least try to magic a Time Turner into taking her into the dimension of time her own world was in.
But the news of the destruction of all the Time Turners had put paid to all her hopes. Of course, Time Turners could be created – as the Unspeakables in her own world had found; after the destruction of Time Turners in her firth year, the Department of Mysteries had managed to procure Turners from other nations, and then replicate them to create new ones. But it was a complex, time-consuming process – one that would take years until she reached home again… and until then, time in her own world would go on, wouldn't it?
She put the newspaper away, magicking it into a plain piece of parchment and stuffing it into her closet. And then she laid down, sighing softly when the sore back of her head rested on the fluffy pillow, her body relaxing gradually.
She shut her eyes for a moment, allowing the magnitude of what had happened to her – finding herself in this strange world, her cluelessness of how to go about returning home, the acute mixture of dread and revulsion she felt at Voldemort being alive, her new 'family' with her Death Eater of a husband – to wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, she found her vision blurry with the tears that pricked at her eyes.
She felt a lump in her throat, her breath hitching momentarily as she thought back to her parents, to Harry and Ron and the Weasleys.
Would they realise that she had gone? she wondered sullenly.
They would have, of course.
Ron was probably red-faced with rage and worry at her disappearance, while Harry would be calm and collected from the outside, while his concern would grow at each passing moment from the inside. He would probably have alerted the Aurors by now… they would all search for her, and then find nothing—and then… would they go on with their lives, then? A few years down the line? When they found no clue of Hermione? Harry would marry Ginny and have children he'd name after his parents, probably.
And Ron? Would he move on? Date someone? Settle down? Though things between Ron and her hadn't been all that good recently, she found herself disliking the thought of him with someone like Lavender Brown – though the rational part of her told her that he was better off moving on in life if she wasn't around anymore.
And her parents? She bit back a sob at the thought of her Mum and Dad. It was only in the last couple of years that her relationship with them had gone back to what it had been before she had Obliviated them of all their memories. What would they think of her now? They had been deeply pained, and furious, when she had restored their memories. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage, her Dad had ranted about regretting allowing her to go to Hogwarts, letting her enter the magical world, letting her repeatedly put her life in danger, and giving her access to power enough to irreversibly alter her own parents' lives…
What would they think now? she wondered brokenly. How would they deal with the fact that they had lost their daughter again, due to the very same magic and magical world that they had detested for separating them from their only child?
She brushed the back of her hand against her cheek, furiously wiping off the hot trail of tears.
She couldn't afford to get so pessimistic. She couldn't lose hope just a day into this world. If she had landed up here, travelling through time and dimensions, she could go back to her own world, too… she knew she could… she had to believe she would…
She pushed the despair away, a different train of thought intriguing her now: Had Hermione Greengrass taken over her body, back in her own world? Or was her own mind and soul in this universe because the Hermione Granger of her world was dead? Did that mean that the Hermione Greengrass of this world was dead in mind and soul? But if her own body was dead back home, how on earth could she go back without a body to return back to?
She grunted in annoyance, the despair threatening to make an appearance again. And she shut her eyes, trying to figure out what exactly had happened before she landed up here, where exactly she had been…
She had woken up, made breakfast, bickered with Ron over something… she had Flooed to the Ministry, and then met Harry there… had she met him in the Atrium? Or in the lift? Why couldn't she remember? She dug the tips of her fingers into the side of her temple, feeling the beginning of a headache as she tried to tax her memory.
"How's Teddy?" she remembered asking Harry, watching his face break out into a smile at the mention of his godson.
"Teddy's great!" answered Harry happily. "He's grown taller, you know. And he asked me when you're going to meet him."
"I'll meet him over the weekend," she replied, a little guilty that her recent workload hadn't allowed her to meet the little boy as often as they both would've liked.
"You ought to cut down on the work, Hermione. Ron was…" Harry trailed off abruptly, no doubt unwilling to betray Ron's confidence to her. But she could guess what Ron had said to him: grumbled about how Hermione spent hours at work every day, which resulted in Ron having to cook for supper… complained about how she wasn't ready to fix a date for their wedding, how she argued with him over the little things, and got mad when he came home drunk last Sunday…
"Anyway," said Harry, a little flustered, "I wanted to talk to you about the case we're working on—" Harry stopped abruptly, his mouth moving, though no sound came out of it.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, reaching out to him, making to clasp the hand he held out to her. But an unseen force pulled her away from him, rapidly increasing the growing distance between them.
"Harry!" she called out, watching her surroundings explode, the ancient Ministry walls crumbling to dust with loud, roaring sounds, Harry lost in the massive, dense clouds of dust that arose around her.
"Hermione!" she could hear a faint male voice beckoning to her.
"Harry!" she yelled out wildly, whipping out her wand and casting a flurry of spells, searching frantically for him through the dust and the crumbling stones. "Harry! Harry!"
"Hermione! Hermione!"
She opened her eyes suddenly, shutting them swiftly as the light blinded her. And when she blinked them open again, she found Sirius looming over her, his expression dark, but something like concern lurking in his shadowed gaze.
She had fallen asleep, she realised. It had all been a dream – well, some of it had been a dream: the explosions and finding herself pulled away from Harry hadn't really happened.
She ran a hand over her face, sitting up in bed slowly, suddenly feeling naked without her wand, everything rushing back to her: the different world she was in, Sirius being a Death Eater…
She looked at Sirius, suddenly wary and alert lest he attempt to harm her. But he was unarmed, staring at her with a pensive expression.
"What is it?" he asked. His voice was gruff, his baritone low. He had been sleeping next to her, she realised blearily, cursing herself for being so careless, for not even having realised when he had entered the room and lied down next to her. She needed to remain alert, careful, quick to defend herself if the need arose.
She looked towards the window, the light outside telling her that it was already morning. She had slept for quite some time, then – which was a little strange because she didn't sleep long hours, and she was a light sleeper, one who would have usually woken up at Sirius' entrance in the room.
"You alright?" demanded Sirius. "You were thrashing about."
"Just—just a dream," she whispered hoarsely, eyes stinging at the remembrance of being unable to find Harry.
He got up then, saying nothing, though he kept glancing at her as he walked to the huge closet he shared with her.
"I'm going down for breakfast," he said gruffly. "I'll tell Mother you're not feeling well. Mopsy will bring up your breakfast and the potions you're supposed to take."
She nodded, feeling a little touched at the unspoken concern she thought he felt. Or perhaps, she had just imagined it.
Sirius shed his robe, the muscles in his back rippling as he reached into the closet for something. But unlike the previous morning, she barely noticed his bare torso when he turned around to face her, thinking instead of what had brought her to this world.
She recounted the events again, finding her mind blank when she tried to remember what case Harry had been alluding to. But she couldn't remember anything. Try as she might, she couldn't remember anything beyond Harry mentioning the case.
What case had he been talking about? She had a sneaking suspicion that it was something related to her presence in the universe she currently was in. Or why else couldn't she remember? Why else did pain begin to prick at her head every time she tried to remember the reason for her current predicament?
So deep was she in thought that she didn't even notice Sirius walk out of the bathroom, droplets of water on his chest, his hair wet and dishevelled, clad in only a towel draped around his hips.
"Greengrass?" he said, and the utterance of her maiden surname reminded her that when Sirius had been shaking her awake, he had called her Hermione – not distastefully like he had just called her, but with something akin to familiarity, with care and concern.
"I'm fine," she replied to his raised eyebrow, her cheeks flaming slightly when she noticed the slight bulge in the front of the towel he had donned.
He stared at her again, grey eyes thoughtful, the sunlight streaming in through the windows making his irises look slightly paler, making the water droplets on his chest glisten, highlighting his handsome features, the trail of dark hair disappearing into the towel, his lean but rather muscled arms, making the Dark Mark stand even darker against his skin. It was the sight of the Mark that made her look away from her perusal of him. And when she met his gaze again, she found him still pensive.
He opened his mouth as if to say something. But then shut it again, his jaw tightening. He dressed quickly, while she looked away again, resuming her efforts to try to remember what had happened.
He stopped on the way to the door, looking back at her, still seeming a little conflicted. And she wondered if he now believed that the accident in the Ministry had really affected her, made her lose some of her memories. From his inscrutable gaze, though, she could glean nothing of his thoughts.
And yet again, Sirius walked away from her silently, making her wonder what his unspoken words were, making her wonder whether he still harboured any positive emotions for the wife he had once loved so very dearly.
Mospy, the female house elf, came in minutes later, just as Sirius had said, bringing with her a tray of breakfast, seeming as scared of Hermione as she'd seemed the previous day. But today, Hermione didn't bother convincing the elf that she had nothing to be scared of… because she kept trying to remember what had happened, recollect what was the case Harry was talking about, all the while trying not to notice the fear simmering in her gut. Each attempt at taxing her memory made her feel like whatever she remembered of that day was slipping away from her. Every attempt made her feel further hopeless, made the pain pricking at her head increase slowly.
What if she never remembered what had happened? What if she never found a way to go back? What if she lost them all forever – her parents and Harry and Ron, the life she had built back so painstakingly after the War, the people she had forged relationships with, the new friends she had made, the job she so loved.
What if she didn't manage to go back home? She wanted to remain in this universe long enough to save all the lives she could. But after that, she wanted to go home, of course. But if she could remember nothing of what had brought her here, how could she even begin to find a way to go back? And what if her fears were true? What if Hermione Granger was dead in the other world? What if she was destined to remain as Hermione Greengrass-Black, with her blonde hair and skinny arms, and the fear she evoked in the poor house elves, the cold parents who weren't her own parents, and her Death Eater husband…
"'Mione!" an urgent knock at the door roused her from her depressing thoughts.
"Come in," she called out, swiftly grasping her wand from her side, watching Regulus slam the door open and rush in, his face pale, his eyes wild with what seemed like fear.
"'Mione! I didn't know who to come to—I don't know what to do!" he exclaimed, seeming certainly fearful.
"What is it?" she asked, feeling suddenly concerned for the young boy.
She stood up, and went to the ashen-faced Regulus, wondering what had shaken him so.
"Tell me what happened. What's wrong?" she asked him, her voice soothing.
"I don't know, 'Mione. I don't know what to do—"
"Tell me," she repeated, a sense of foreboding building in the pit of her stomach, feeling like she knew what was going to come next.
"I can't tell Sirius—and—and you can't tell him, too! Promise me you won't tell him I know," said Regulus earnestly.
"I promise," she said, relieved when he nodded.
"It's Kreacher," Regulus whispered, and she knew what was coming before he even finished speaking, her heart thudding with the revelation, with the burden of realising that, yet again, she would be the one charged with saving the magical world from Voldemort, charged with destroying the Horcruxes, and charged with saving yet another life along with all the others she wanted to save – that of the young boy who stood before her.
oOo
A/N:That's all for this chapter! I hope I can write and post the next chapter soon. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it :)