Summary: EWE. A moment of distraction alters Hermione's life. Trapped in the past, she struggles to decide between what is right and what is easy. A choice needed to be made, but before that, she had to live again.
Sirius Black's life revolved around an endless war and living his life to the fullest. His priorities were rather straight forward: Protect his chosen family, fight and fuck. Nothing else registered. Nothing else mattered. But then she came along and changed his world forever.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Betaed by the wonderful TheUnrealInsomniac.
Silver
Prologue: Broken
Night had fallen and though the spring chill had long ago numbed her exposed flesh, Hermione couldn't help but smile.
The image of Ron, brushing her hair aside, so he could kiss her newly exposed neck was on the forefront of her mind. The memory of his lips moving against her skin burned through her and the flesh below her ear tingled. A wayward curl had sprung back and with a soft smile, he'd tucked it behind her ear.
Her heart fluttered and she sighed- which quickly turned into a startled gasp, as the spell that had been holding her hostage was lifted.
A sudden shock of awareness and a wave of painful sensations gripped her.
Every inch of her body ached. She was shivering and felt feverish.
Disoriented, Hermione blinked and felt the room spin and tilt around her. Her head was throbbing. Her back ached and her hips screamed in protest with her every move. Mouth, dry. Her tongue felt thick and swollen. It hurt to swallow and her belly clenched as a painful stomach cramp coursed through her. All her aches and pains however were easily dwarfed by an overwhelming thirst.
'Water. Ple-ase,' she whispered into the darkness. Her voice hoarse from dehydration and lack of use. 'Water...'
'I'm going to light a candle and let your eyes adjust,' warned her captor. 'Prepare yourself sweetheart.'
A silent incantation, a flash of light and the room filled with a faint, golden glow that seared her eyes.
'Please,' she begged. Her need for water growing by the second.
'Of course love.'
A twirl of a wand and mumbled spells later, found her drinking from a conjured goblet.
'I do hope you forgive me Hermione. Leaving you for this long had not been my intention, I'm sorry.'
Though warm and funny tasting, she savoured every gulp of the crisp liquid. Focused on satisfying her thirst, Hermione didn't hear her kidnapper's words. As the goblet vanished from her grasp, she cried out in surprise and longing.
'That's enough,' her kidnapper gently chastised. 'Too much too soon and you'll get sick.'
Eyes shut tight and chest heaving, Hermione fought back choked sobs.
Neck sore, she bowed her head and cried out as her back spasmed.
Days, her mind whispered.
Blurry eyes opened and darted towards the figure as a warming charm rippled across her skin.
The previous charm had worn off, exposing her to the cold that'd drifted in from the broken window. On average, that particular spell lasted two days, three depending on the caster's magical ability. She knew the witch was powerful- the proof lay in the strength of her spellwork, so, she calculated, The Woman had been gone three to four days.
Which meant she'd been here over a week.
Her eyes slammed shut and her jaw clenched as she fought the urge to scream and rage at the unstable woman. It wouldn't help, she knew. The Woman's last visit was proof enough. In a fit of anger and desperation, Hermione had yelled and screamed and it'd led to this.
Another spasm shot down her spine and a sob was ripped from her throat.
The tinkling sound of glass knocking together reached her ears and Hermione opened her eyes. Relief and gratitude rushed through her, swiftly followed by disgust and self-loathing.
Hovering on the opposite side of the wards and fighting to get picked first, were three distinct vials.
'For pain,' said the older woman, as a sparkling blue, pear-shaped bottle flew to her.
'Pepper-up,' a round, charcoal grey bottle passed invisible wards with a slight hiss. Followed by a long, thin vial with a burnt yellow potion inside, 'And vitamins.'
She didn't hesitate to drink them. The pain was too much.
Besides, The Woman could easily curse her into drinking them. She'd done it before. After the first few times, Hermione had decided to just go with it.
So she drank them. One after the other.
Her mind shouting at her for doing it, even as her body thanked her.
Renewed energy coursed through her, sharpening her mind and senses. Her aches dulled and faded.
'Good girl. You'll feel much better soon,' cooed The Woman.
Hermione cringed at the motherly tone and words.
Haunted eyes focused on her feet, blinking away the urge to stare at the unmoving body, laying feet away from her.
She wouldn't look.
Looking at the decaying, still breathing body only rattled her flayed nerves.
After everything she had seen and lived through, she'd believed she could face whatever life threw at her but she'd been wrong.
Nothing could have prepared her for the effects of the Dementor's Kiss.
The blank look, the drooling, the slack jaw- it was as she'd read, except for one minute detail. All books on the subject had failed to mention that the flesh of a Kissed individual would begin to rot, even as the body continued to live.
That nugget of information had come from the elder witch herself.
The situation was made all the worse by the fact that the Kissed person was a little boy, no older than seven. Her kidnapper, the child's mother.
As if summoned by mere thoughts, The Woman crouched on the opposite side of the wards and gave Hermione a beaming smile.
'Guess what?' she whispered excitedly. 'I found it!'
To prove her point, the dark haired witch reached into her robes and pulled out a black velvet pouch.
Tears fell down The Woman's face as a joyful laugh escaped her. Her watery smile growing wider as she gently rattled the pouch.
Sparing it a glance, Hermione licked her lips and cleared her scratchy throat.
'Please let me go,' she rasped out, an evident tremor in her voice.
The Woman's smile fell and her eyes grew cold.
'Stop saying that,' she spat. 'I've told you, repeatedly that I can't do that!'
The witch glared at her before she stood and began to pace the small room.
'After everything I've done for you! And she still... Always asking me to-to...' She rounded on Hermione. 'Why can't you see that this is for the best?! Why don't you understand?!'
Hermione sat frozen, brown eyes following The Woman's every move.
In an odd Stockholm Syndrome kind of way, the woman was right. She had been treated fairly well, all things considered.
She was kept relatively warm, healthy to an extent and even though she had been Imperiused throughout, she hadn't been made to kill or do anything horrible. Rather, she'd been ordered to focus on her happiest memories and to not move.
Held prisoner by her happiest memories.
She honestly didn't know whether to be grateful for that or not.
The Woman continued to stare at her and when no answer came, she shook her head as if disappointed. She made her way to the only piece of furniture in the room- a candle filled table, on which she placed the small pouch.
The Woman turned. Her eyes moving over the runes surrounding her, studying them. Blue eyes moved upwards and though they roamed over her face, Hermione had the sense that the older witch was looking through her.
'You need to understand, so you can see the why,' the mother said as she nodded absentmindedly. 'He was right. Yeah... You need to know...'
A rattled breath broke the silence of the room and The Woman flinched. A flicker of desperation flashed in her eyes.
'W-we'd been promised their safety. As long as we obeyed, they'd be fine,' said the elder woman, her eyes meeting Hermione's gaze.
'So of course we listened. Because we worked in the same department, we'd been split up... To guarantee our continued support they'd said... I hadn't seen Evie or Adan in months, but I hadn't worried because they'd promised and we'd listened. I'd done everything they said and he would've never allowed... H-he would've... di-ed before letting anything happen to he-er.' The Woman's eyebrows furrowed and her teary eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other. Confusion marring her dirtied features. 'I don't know what happened to them,' she said in a small voice. 'I-I'd been working in the Brain Room when they started leaving...'
Hermione felt her gut drop and her eyes widen as they roamed over the disheveled woman.
'You're an Unspeakable,' she breathed out.
The Woman blinked, turning to her. She nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
'They were all Disapparating and yelling...'Harry Potter is at Hogwarts! Harry Potter is at Hogwarts!'... I-I don't know how I got down there, the corridors were so crowded... Aurors and Death Eaters were fighting and people were running and dueling... Even at night, the Ministry was busy... But I-I had a-a-and I found hi-im. A D-Dement... i-it was o-over hi - NOOO!'
Hermione stared in horror as The Woman clutched at her head and fell to her knees. Heart-wrenching sobs escaping her.
A swarm of Dementors, rushing towards her during The Final Battle, flashed through her mind.
If Death Eaters and Ministry officials alike had been called to battle, then the Dementors had been left largely unattended. Nothing had stopped them from attacking.
She witnessed her son being Kissed.
Dark eyes left the rocking woman and drifted to the body of the little boy, atop a stained mattress. His open eyes staring and unseeing of the wooden planks above him. Slow, rattling breaths escaping his opened mouth. The corner of which, Hermione noted in morbid fascination, was black and green. Dark brown sludge oozing from the putrid flesh.
'Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRO-NUM!'
Hermione flinched and scrambled backwards into her little corner, taking refuge in its shadows. The cold and jagged stone dug into her skin, but the pain barely registered.
She was terrified.
She didn't know how long The Woman had kept her prisoner. It was all a riddled mess of starvation and thirst, forced potion consumption and orders commanded under the Imperius Curse.
She didn't know where she was, how long she'd been here or if anyone so much as suspected a mad Unspeakable of taking her. Death Eaters would've been the primary suspects, easily followed by Voldemort sympathizers. Beyond them... perhaps that was the extent of the suspect list. After all, who would think a grieving mother dangerous?
Hermione flinched again, pressing herself further into the shadowed corner as The Woman crawled to her son and cradled him to her chest.
'Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron,' she mumbled under her breath.
Hope that she'd be heard through the Deluminator burned in her chest.
When Hermione realised it wasn't a Death Eater who'd taken her, foolish arrogance had kicked in. She'd thought she could reach The Woman and talk her out of whatever plan she had- it'd been pointless.
Soon afterwards, she remembered the Deluminator and began calling out for him, praying he would hear her voice.
He - they - had yet to find her.
It was only a matter of time she kept telling herself.
She would be saved soon enough.
Her eyes moved over the purple runes and just as quickly, returned to the distraught woman.
She hadn't had time to study the lighter-shaped artifact, so she didn't know how it worked.
Perhaps they had to be thinking of each other at the exact moment in time. Or when they wanted to be together desperately. Or it only worked when the other was lost. Either way, she called him every time her mind cleared.
Unfortunately, the moments of lucidity were too few and far between. Or so she assumed. She had no real sense of time.
She knew she'd been taken in the morning, two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.
After refusing their help and assuring Ron and Harry that she would be back before dinner, she had left the Burrow and Apparated outside of Hogwarts. She was only going to the library. Nothing to worry about she'd told them. She'd be back soon. It was fine.
Hermione slammed her eyes shut as The Woman let out another scream.
There was some comfort in the knowledge that Monica and Wendell Wilkins were happy and blissfully unaware of her situation.
She'd been careless.
She had formed a routine. Had been too damn distracted and had stupidly grown confident in her safety. She'd foolishly let her guard down at a time when the war was very much an open wound.
She should have known better.
This was all her fault.
Warm tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at the weeping mother. With a trembling hand she quickly wiped them away.
Hermione had gone over that day repeatedly, wondering if she had missed a warning sign. She remembered walking past stationed Aurors, up the wooded path and... it had all happened so fast.
A painful blow to her back. Flying through the air- the smell of earth and the feel of prickly grass against her cheek. Then nothing.
When she next opened her eyes, she had found herself here.
Alone, in a corner of what she soon realised was a cellar, encased within a glowing runic circle and wandless.
Try as she might, the runes had been unfamiliar to her so breaking the spell chain had been impossible. The electric and burning sensation the ward created had quickly turned her away from trying to erase a rune again. After hours of yelling and making as much noise as possible, she had given up on being heard. The runes it seemed, did much more than stop her from escaping.
She'd been alone those first two days.
From the solitary window she could see blades of grass and behind them, she had witnessed night fall twice. After that, hunger, thirst and exhaustion had given way to restless sleep. On the third day, her captor had shown her face.
The Woman had straight, black, shoulder length hair. Dull blue eyes and thin lips. There was nothing exceptional about her. Were it not for the crazed gleam in her eyes, she was easily forgettable. Everything about her blended her into the background.
'Hush... little baby... don't say a word...'
The younger witch ran startled and weary eyes over the broken mother. Her belly clenched as she sung her slow and haunting lullaby. Dread filled her.
The Woman had never sung before.
Beginning on the third day, a pattern had soon formed. Until today, it hadn't changed. The Woman would show up, lift the curse and feed her potions. After crying and rambling mindlessly, she'd grow angry the moment Hermione begged for her freedom. In a twisted way, it had been reassuring.
That small comfort however, was now gone. All because of a child's song.
Something in her captor's eyes had changed she realised. Brown eyes moved away from The Woman to the table. It's cause, she knew, the unknown factor that was a small pouch. Shaking, Hermione watched as the older witch composed herself - much quicker than before she noted - lay down her son, stood and picked up the velvet sack.
'You'll go back and fix this,' said The Woman, her voice thick and filled with conviction. 'She will.'
A solitary nod followed her statement as she reached into the pouch and pulled out a metallic chain.
Squinting, Hermione set tired eyes upon the object The Woman was holding. Just as quickly, she felt them widen as a shocked gasp escaped her. Through the dim glow of the candle light, she recognised the shapes and curves of a Time-Turner.
Her gut dropped and the room spun around her.
'No,' she whispered in disbelief, even as her heart began to race. 'It's impossible. They were all destroyed... They were all destroyed.'
The crazed mother said nothing.
Her entire focus centred on the magical object, a serene smile on her face.
Hermione was so sure the elder witch hadn't heard her, that she was startled when The Woman spoke.
'No,' replied the Unspeakable, her thumb caressing the small hour glass. 'That was a lie ... Why would you think they would tell the truth?' The witch shook her head, giggling. 'Never trust those who hold the power, to tell the truth Hermione.' The elder woman's bright eyes met her stare. 'They're often the most dangerous.'
Hermione returned her gaze. Unable to look away as a new fear gripped her.
She finally allowed the thought that she'd been keeping at bay to take form. If she was honest, she may have known it the second her tired eyes settled on the Time-Turner.
The mad gleam in the mother's eyes had been unmistakable. It had been the same look Harry had given her all those years ago.
You'll go back and fix this.
Her heart pounded in her ears, her limbs shook and a dull ache built in her. A knot in her throat made it hard to swallow.
'I mark the hours, every one... Nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you,' muttered The Woman, twisting the Time-Turner to read the inscription.
'Are gauged by what you have to do.'
Hermione had read those words so many times during her third year, they had become engraved in her mind. As much a part of her as they had the golden metal.
Her tears fell fast and hard as her fear spilled over.
"Don't cry dear," said The Woman. Her voice soothing and comforting. "Shhh… It will be alright I promise. You will never have to be scared ever again… We'll fix this."
'No,' whispered Hermione, horrified. Her fear turning to desperation. 'No!'
The older witch couldn't do this to her. She couldn't.
'Please!' cried Hermione as the Unspeakable looked at her. 'Just let me go! Please?!'
The mother blinked, staring at her with a puzzled expression. Confusion on her tear tracked features.
'Are you aware that you were the first person in a century to use one of these?' asked the Unspeakable. 'Then one day, out of the blue, rumours spread that Dumbledore had approached Croaker with a request to allow the use of one. For a clever thirteen year old little girl. So she could do homework. And to kindly keep the fact off the record.'
'Please,' begged Hermione. 'I want to go home. Please.'
For a second, The Woman's eyes flickered with emotion. Her eyes moved over Hermione, to the runes and darted across the room, taking in her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time.
'No,' mumbled the grieving mother, clutching desperately at her cloak. 'No.'
In a blink of the eye, The Woman's emotions switched from tears to anger. 'No!' She snarled. 'You have to do this! Don't you see?! No one else knows how to use the damn thing! Croaker made sure of that! Always with his silence or half-truths!'
Hermione trembled in her confined space as she eyed the unstable woman.
Wand in hand and muttering to herself, the witch craddled the Time-Turner to her chest. Words of I have to, she'll do it and it'll be okay baby escaped her lips before growing quiet.
The mother frowned. She sat the powerful object down and made her way towards her child, once again cradling him to her chest. The witch ran a trembling hand through his brown hair, pressing his face into the crook of her neck as she smiled. Cracked lips moving against the shell of his small ear.
The silence grew heavy and for a while only The Woman moved.
With a lick of her lips, Hermione broke the quiet of the room. Her soothing tone ruined by the tremor in her voice.
'Please. I'm begging you. W-whatever you have p-planned,' her eyes moved from the woman, to the Time-Turner and back again. 'You don't have t-to do i-it.'
Silent tears ran down the elder woman's face as she continued to sing, naked breast bared to the soulless shell that had once been her son.
'Please,' whispered Hermione.
'I remember thinking, such pretty lights. My brother had been a few years younger than me and he'd once said that magic was a bit like Star Wars,' she said amidst a hollow laugh. 'All pretty lights and different worlds... He was right in a way. All great stories have an epic war between light and dark... and start with a tragedy...'
She swallowed thickly as The Woman grew silent again, her eyes dazed.
A flurry of movement and Hermione pressed herself further into the wall as the older witch stood below the window, gazing upwards into the darkened sky. Her tears glistening in the candle light.
'I'd lived at the bottom of the hill and we'd seen everything. Every flash and bang... Except that last. The spell had flown in my direction a-and it was so pretty! Like... like green lightning!' said The Woman, laughing. Just as suddenly as it came, it was gone, replaced by a frown and quiet tone. 'Nan jumped in front of me and then she was on top of me, squishing me. She smelt like ointment and fags... Obliviators arrived soon after and they were made to forget... heart attack the doctors said but I hadn't been, so I knew the truth... he'd said I needed to understand. That our kind was to blame and that I needed to see what we were doing... I didn't know until much later what the pretty green flashes of light were. Or how someone had been able to turn the clouds into a skull and snake... I hadn't thought of that night in years. Lately, it's all I can think about...'
The Woman raised her left hand, staring into her empty palm. Flexing her fingers and spreading them apart.
'It seems like all my problems came from magic,' she murmured. 'So logically... magic too can yield the solution...'
'Please let me go,' begged Hermione, heavy tears blurring her vision. 'I won't say a thing. Please.'
The older witch ignored her as she walked towards the table.
'I didn't want to do this to you Hermione. You must know that, but you seemed the perfect candidate. The last known time-traveler and Harry Potter's best friend to boot... If anyone knows how to change things for the better, it's you. All you have to-'
'-No! Please! You don't have to do this! Please stop!'
'It's for the best,' said The Woman as she studied the Time-Turner. Her voice flat and void of emotion. 'You'll see.'
Heart racing and terrified eyes focused on the witch, Hermione reached out to the runic symbols.
A searing sting raced up her arm and her every nerve cell burned. Her vision blurred and all the air left her lungs. Her fingertips grew wet and the smell of burning flesh and copper perfumed the air. A vicious shock ran up her arm, drawing away all logic and reason and she cried out. Still, she refused to stop.
'Stop that! You're hurting yourself!'
Setting the Time-Turner down, The Woman stalked towards her.
Hermione flung herself backwards into the wall. 'No! Stay away from me. Dont touch me! Please don't do this! PLEASE!' she yelled, her heart beating a violent tattoo against her chest. 'PLEASE DONT DO THIS TO ME! RON! HARRY! MUM!'
The witch stopped dead in her tracks.
She slammed her eyes shut, shaking her head. The Woman raised her hand and began beating it against her forehead. The sound of slapping flesh rang throughout the room, breaking the silence that had followed Hermione's desperate cries.
Hermione could do nothing beyond watch with trembling limbs, dry lips and rapidly falling tears.
Scared of bringing attention to herself, she willed her shaking body to still. Positive that the elder witch could hear every beat of her heart and that every exhaled breath echoed across the walls. She wished they wouldn't be so loud.
Now that she knew her purpose, why she had been taken - she would not make a sound.
No sooner had she thought that, did a strangled breath ring throughout the room.
The Woman's eyes shot open.
Hermione's eyes darted to the small decaying body and just as quickly returned to the unstable mother before her.
She saw The Woman raise her wand and Hermione knew what was going to happen half a second before it did.
'NO!' cried Hermione as she raised her arms, trying to shield herself.
'-Imperio!'
She heard the rushing sound, saw a rainbow coloured flash... and a sense of calm.
She felt relaxed. Her troubles non-existent. There was only comfort and peace. A deep happiness that assured her everything was fine.
The witch moved but it didn't matter. She heard and felt the rune circle break, but it barely registered. She'd known it was important and for a brief moment, Ron's face swam before her eyes. Before a thought could form, his image was pushed aside by a distant echo.
'Pick up the Time-Turner... Pick up the Time-Turner...'
Her feet moved. Her hand reached out and then she was holding the small hourglass with blood stained fingers.
Almost instantly, the time piece begin to rattle and glow a brilliant white. A final shudder and the eerie glow faded away, leaving behind a silver Time-Turner.
A brush against her arm, an exhilarated laugh and rapid muttering.
'Fascinating... Unexpected... Problematic...'
Her heart raced. The Woman's voice grew clearer and Hermione frowned. She saw the black-haired witch approach her and felt cold fingers brush her fringe aside. A strange expression on the elder woman's face, the corners of her mouth curving upwards.
She blinked, brown eyes studying the Time-Turner in her hand, knowing something was wrong.
'Thank you Hermione. This - I...' the older woman shook her head. Her eyes bright and a beautiful smile on her otherwise plain face. Chapped lips caressed her forehead. 'Safe trip love.'
The Unspeakable raised her wand one final time and a new echo whispered its command.
'Turn the hourglass 23 times...'
Her hand shook as she followed her orders.
One... two...
Her eyes stung and her chest ached.
... Ten... Eleven... Twelve...
Bloody fingers slipped as silent tears moved down her cheeks.
A twinge in the back of her mind. A distant voice.
Fight it! Fight it Hermione! Are you a witch or aren't you?!
As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Pressure behind her eyes urging her to finish the task.
... Seventeen...
The hourglass' smooth surface turned over and over again in her palm.
This was wrong.
She didn't want to do this.
She wanted to go home.
She had to complete her task first though.
... Twenty-three.
Her heart pounded in her ears. Her body trembled. Hermione blinked, swallowing thickly as the seconds passed.
It didn't work, a voice whispered to her and a heaviness settled on her chest, making it harder to breathe.
Somewhere in the room, The Woman had begun to sing her lullaby.
Then the Time-Turner began to tremble.
It burned that brilliant, luminescent white again and all the air seemed to leave the room. Hermione felt a powerful gust of wind slam against her chest. Suddenly, she was flying backwards at a rapid speed. Colours and shapes were rushing past her, bleeding into each other, becoming one giant unrecognizable mass.
As the world she knew disappeared from under her feet, in a swirling vortex of colour and rushing sound, did the spell completely lift.
Her head began to pound. She struggled as her body twisted and turned. Violent wind rushed past her, causing her hair to whip her in the face. She couldn't breathe and her lungs burned from lack of oxygen.
Then her feet touched solid ground. Her shaking knees buckled from under her and she fell forward, landing on her hands and knees.
Trembling all over, gasping for breath and running on pure instinct she raised her head.
Only to find herself at the end of a wand.
Following its upward path, she found herself staring into a pair of frightened blue eyes, framed by red hair. Flashes of colour highlighting his bloodied features.
A vivid green light danced across his bruised flesh, giving his pale skin and wild eyes a greenish hue- turning the blood on his face a rustic brown. He looked as if he'd been Kissed she idly mused.
And then she began to scream.
A/N: Hello. Welcome to my fic.
I've had this plot bunny in my head for quite some time but never did anything with it. Then one random day, after another failed attempt at searching for an M-rated, EWE, Time-Turner fic that focused on realism, I finally gave in and wrote it down.
Hopefully, my little prologue was enticing enough to keep some of you interested. Whether you continue on to the next chapter or not, I thank you for giving Silver a try.
Either way, reviews are encouraged and they will be loved.
Erica x