I'm With You
Disclaimer: Noooooooot minnnnnnnnnne!
Mega Alpha love and appreciation: Siriusly Orion Wicked
A/N – Hello, lovelies! Next chapter! Don't forget to leave me some thoughts at the end, yes? :)
For you, Worthfull. Love you to the moon and back, and then twice over again.
"Sirius?" Hermione Granger whispers, the shock in her tone jabbing at his skin like icy pinpricks. Sirius swallows hard and shoves a hand through tangled black waves, the laughter that escapes his tightly compressed chest high-pitched and more than a little desperate.
"Hello, pet."
Chapter Two
"Am I dreaming?"
Her voice sounds real. Yanking his hands through his hair once more, Sirius gives in to the shock of the last few minutes and sits where he is, his legs folding under him until he's looking up at the witch who shouldn't be here, of all places. Wherever here is. Hermione's eyes follow his drop and then she's standing over him, expression a humorous mix of disbelief, confusion, and trepidation. Wearing a blush-coloured cardigan over a crisp white oxford shirt, her jeans are a lot trendier than he'd ever thought she'd wear, and Sirius's gaze runs over her face, his own sort of confusion setting in.
She looks… older. The Hermione Granger above him isn't the same teenage girl the real Sirius last saw. He presses the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and then looks again, a scowl soon marring his features.
"Who are you?" he demands – or rather croaks. There's dust in his throat, coating his tongue. Making him feel old. He swallows repeatedly and tries to discreetly cough, keeping his eyes fixed on the not-Hermione looking down at him.
He seems to have lost the ability to make his legs work.
"Who are you?" the woman retorts. Her hands find her hips and her mouth presses into a line that brings back unsound memory after unsound memory. He wishes he could trust what was in his head. But if he can't trust himself to know he is who he is, how can he trust what his subconscious is telling him?
"Sirius Black," he says in a way that would've convinced him. Then, because he truly doesn't have the energy to rise – and isn't that a kicker? He's never felt physically tired before – he reaches up and grasps her elbows, tugging down sharply. The Hermione-wannabe lets out a startled yelp and collapses in front of him.
His hands stay on her elbows. Her teeth are white when she struggles against his hold and bares them at him furiously.
"Excuse me? Exactly who do you think you are?!"
"Sirius Black." His head cocks and he eyes her. "You look an awful lot like Hermione Granger. But Granger's a child. You're not."
"Well, you look an awful lot like someone who's dead," she snaps back.
Sirius lets go of her elbows as if burned.
"I'm not dead."
The woman rubs along the length of her arms, looking mightly peeved. "Really? Tell that to the very much dead Sirius Black who acted recklessly and tumbled through the Death Veil as a result! 'Death Veil' sure sounds like it produces death to me!"
Her biting sarcasm does nothing to alleviate the sudden, sucking hole in his centre, but it does lead him closer to believing she is who she looks like. Hermione Granger has always had a sharp tongue in her head, something he'd witnessed Harry and Ron get lashed by many times in the past. She'd never had the bollocks to lecture him, of course, but he'd only ever admit to himself that he'd always looked forward to the day she'd show some and try to put him in his place. Sirius loves a good argument and Granger could argue with the best of them. The little miss didn't like being wrong.
He'd never thought it'd be… he can't think of it.
"Is Harry alive?" he mutters to his knees, knuckles kneading his chest, rolling back and forth, back and forth, over his heart. It hurts. Sirius can't be dead, can he? He's never wanted to believe it whenever the thought has burrowed its way through his brain. This isn't afterlife. He's always liked the concept of heaven, not only because it's a muggle belief and muggles made his family see red, but also because the idea of it soothed him in general. But this certainly isn't heaven, and he's wished repeatedly, practically begged every deity he ever heard of, for it not to be hell either.
Sirius wasn't dead. He wasn't dead.
Was he?
He makes himself look up when the silence runs on too long, peering through his hair to see the woman he's now 90% convinced is Hermione Granger, watching him with too shrewd eyes. Her expression speaks volumes, and he forces his spine straight in the wake of the pity he sees. Fuck that. He doesn't need her sympathy, or anyone's. His chin lifts, an impertinent eyebrow arching in question.
Hermione blinks.
"Yes, of course he is," she says, voice impatient. "Never mind all that, you need to tell me where we are and how the hell we got here."
She gets to her feet and reaches for him, and before he realises he's going to be, he's off the ground and standing. Pride giving him an odd sort of strength, Sirius breathes in slowly and eyes his unexpected companion – the solidness of her, the ever predictability of the little Granger girl needing to know things right now! She's surveying their surroundings like an exit will pop up any moment if she wills it hard enough, and when she swings back around and pins him with the demand her eyes are practically shouting, he grins.
It's a strange feeling, smiling.
"Don't ask me, pet. You're the one who just appeared out of thin air, you're more likely to have knowledge of this place than I am. How did you get here?"
Hermione scowls. "I thought I fell asleep," she says, sounding frustrated. "Are you sure this isn't a dream?"
The amusement fades as rapidly as it arrived. Sirius shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, mouth twisted. "Granger, if this was a dream, don't you think I would've forced myself awake ages ago?"
She sighs, a gust of a sound, and pushes her hair back out of her face. "Right, then. I am… withholding judgement over whether this is real or not until I have more information. How far does the terrain go? Have you looked?"
Sirius snorts with laughter at that question. His entire body begins to shake with it at her narrow-eyed glare, and it rolls across the landscape, accompanying them both when Hermione grits her teeth and turns to stomp away from him, leaving him to catch up. He's trails after her for an unseemly amount of time that doesn't matter anyway, because time doesn't have any meaning in this place, and he's still grinning when she finally gives up. He's counted their steps as they'd trudged never-endingly, a constant slog of putting one foot in front of the other, chuckling to himself as the number grows.
1622. That's a lot of steps. His stomach hurts from laughter and Hermione is looking extremely deflated. She stops in place and turns to him, shoulders sagging.
"There isn't a way out of here, is there?" she asks quietly. Sirius shakes his head, holding back the twitching of his lips. He shouldn't be laughing, should he? He doesn't even know exactly why he is.
The horrible sense of loss under the laughter is something he doesn't want to acknowledge.
"No, pet. It just keeps going on and on. The only thing that ever changed was the earthquake that happened right before you got here."
Hermione frowns. "Earthquake? I never felt any earth-"
The air twangs, pulling out of shape and snapping back into place, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence. Her eyes go very wide and she takes a step forward, reaching for him, before suddenly just… not being there.
Vanished. Blinked from existence. As if she was never there in the first place.
She's gone with nothing more than a stirring of the dust beneath their shoes. Sirius stares at the empty spot in front of him blankly, then turns with heavy limbs and begins to walk.
He's still wandering aimlessly, mind hidden within the fruitless concept of broken time, when she appears next.