DISCLAIMER: Want it, don't got it (aka don't own it) I added a cover image I just want to inform everyone that I also don't own that I found it on the internet, just pretend the girl he's kissing in it looks like Hermione all credit for the image goes to whoever made it thank you for putting it on the internet for our viewing pleasure

WARNING: me no proofread and probably never will

AN: This beginning part depicts Hermione's dreams right after she passes out in Sirius' arms and the all italic part in her section depicts a memory. Also thank you so much for your support of this fiction thus far. Over 50 follows! Almost 20 favorites! You guys spoil me, especially you reviewers, don't tell the others but I love you most. Jk, lol it's wrong to pick favorites, unless you're favoriting my story that is.

Chapter two: Stage 2: Pain and Guilt

"Hello Kitten, so glad you could join us for the rest of Holiday!" says the exuberant voice of Sirius Black as he ruffles the long, thick, wild curls indicative of one Hermione Granger.

She scowls at him but the amused glint in her firewhiskey eyes gives her away, "I was just here a couple weeks ago Sirius and what makes you say I'm a kitten Snuffles? I am proud to say I am a lion, or rather lioness, who brings great honor to my most venerable Gryffindor house!" she exclaims as she playfully swats his chest, the raven haired marauder had a way of bringing out the playful side of the extremely grave soon to be fifteen year-old. Though who could fault her solemnity, she had been attempting protect her chosen one best friend, the very same Sirius Black's nephew, from the dark lord since the age eleven, assisting in a war, the likes of which even an adult is hard pressed to be prepared for, from the second she entered the wizarding world as a young child; not to mention getting said chosen one, Harry Potter, and her other best friend Ronald Weasley to do their homework. That was the real challenge, she swore sometimes she felt more like a mother rather than a best friend and sister; at least there were no nappies to change she was certain a baby Ron would be unbearable he whined enough as a nearly grown teenager, the loveable goof.

"Why my dear girl, I do not question that you are marvelous scion to our great house! But a lioness is nothing but an over grown kitten, and you pet are far from over grown. Can't be more than what three feet tall, huh short stack?" he jokes. "Though you do have quite the adorable mane there love." Sirius says with a smirk as he again ruffles the young witches trademark brown hair.

"I'll have you know that Madame Pomphrey measured me at five feet and a quarter of an inch the very end of last year!" she protests as she slaps his chest again in jest.

"Oh would you stop with the quarter of an inch 'Mione, just say five feet!" Harry says as he bounds down the steps of Grimmauld place to give his long awaited best friend a hug.

"Oh Harry I've missed you so much," she squeals as she throws her arms around her best friend. "I'm so sorry I missed your birthday last week but don't you dare think that gives you the right to jip me my extra quarter inch, it's there, Madame Pomphrey says so."

"Yeah and she also said you were done growing, taller anyway," He winks facetiously as he indicates the font of her still rapidly filling jumper with long past budding breasts. "And I missed you to 'Mione," he proclaims as he ardently reciprocates her tight, friendly embrace. "Don't worry about missing my birthday though, I had all the Weasleys and with the twins here it was sure to be a blast," He assures her as she rolls her eyes at the thought of the notorious twins' antics. "Plus I got those new quidditch gloves you sent me, they're really awesome; though you will still have to bake some of those awesome brownies of yours, don't tell Mrs. Weasley but they're even better then hers." Harry says with another wink.

Hermione gasps in mock indignation, "you wish for me to withhold knowledge of such a blatant betrayal from my dear friend Molly?" She says her face a false semblance of shock and disbelief.

"Dear friend?" Harry asks mouth agape.

"Why yes Harry, Molly wishes to one day marry me off to someone in her varying assortment of Weasley boys and become an official member of the family she has so lovingly inducted me into by matter of adoption." Hermione informs with faux primness.

"Something tells me she'll have quite the resistance from the boys at school," Harry smirks at this not all too surprising pronouncement, Molly had always loved Harry and Hermione as her own.

Hermione rolls her eyes as Sirius pipes up, "is that so?"

"Yup," Harry confirms, "Even the Slytherins can't resist our 'Mione. She'd never date a snake though, they're the type who think you're supposed to make fun of the girl you like to get their attention or some shit. You know the whole pulling the pigtails thing? It's like the slimy gits are stuck in primary," Harry says wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Language," Hermione scolds swatting the back of his head and mussing his already ruffled and untidy hair even more.

"Sorry 'Mione," is his singsong apology. "Say can you believe she dated an international quidditch star last year Pads?"

"Sure can, I would've even if I hadn't seen it in the papers," Sirius says as he meets the whiskey brown eyes of the witch in question and that strange tugging they feel deep in their heart strings, at the very base of their souls, plays up again in the both of them. Neither understand it but it's certainly not unwelcome, it fills them with the desire to be around one another, protect one another; they both shake their heads dismissively to rid themselves of the strange sensation. And forbidden, Hermione chastised herself, he's twenty years older than you and your best friend's godfather! You're probably imagining it anyway, and he definitely can't feel it too no matter what you think you see in his eyes. "Our 'Mione is beautiful." He finishes as they are shaken from they're stupor.

"You should be saying you believe it despite the papers, that Skeeter woman is absolutely vile." Hermione pouts remembering the many papers depicting her as the gold digging whore who broke the heart of the boy who lived. She swore one more article about her playing bed swap with the triwizard champions was going to drive her insane, then throw Ron into the mix of her apparent throws of passion and who could blame her for putting the buggy little bitch in a jar, literally.

"Oh stop worrying about that 'Mione, you took care of her good," Harry proclaimed.

"Well Harry," Hermione corrected.

"Well what?" Harry asked confused

"It's took care of her well," she explains.

"No I think it's good," Harry teased to rile her up. He always told her she was funny when debating topics like schoolwork, propriety, and such, though he elaborated to say that you never wanted to push her too far because apparently an angry Hermione was a scary Hermione.

"Nope," she affirms. "You could say I took good care of her but if you switch it around like that it's I took care of her well."

"I don't think sooo," Harry sings playfully.

"I assure you Harry," Hermione begins but narrows her eyes at him as a realization dawns. "HARRY JAMES POTTER! I told you to stop trying to put me on for laughs, my arguments are not funny! They're very serious."

"No love I'm Sirius," Sirius smirks in jest.

"I wouldn't joke around like that if I were you, she might start spewing off about spew." Harry warns in a not so quiet conspiratorial whisper with a laugh.

"Spew?"

"This house elves rights organization she started last year, really passionate about it; save little elf lives one hand knitted bonnet at a time."

"That's adorable," Sirius states as they continue to pretend to ignore a fuming Hermione with their false boisterous whispers.

"Oh you haven't seen her in action, spewing off and such," Harry moans as he puts on a face of self-pity.

Once Hermione finally stops sputtering in outrage she screams, "IT'S S.P.E.W, NOT SPEW HARRY."

"Aww 'Mione, I'm sorry. Forgive me and I promise I'll help knit loads more hats and maybe a few scarves too," Harry promises in mock seriousness before the two males both burst out laughing.

"Whatever, I'm going to go tell Molly I'm here." Hermione huffs with a pout.

"Oh come on 'Mione don't be like that," Harry pleaded as he tugged on her hand. "And since when do you get to call Mrs. Weasley Molly? Totally unfair."

"Since I'm mature and don't say things like 'totally unfair'" she mocks pantomiming a Valley Girl accent.

"Hey, that's not very mature, and Valley Girl is an American thing, I don't sound like that," Harry protests.

"You do Harry," Sirius confirms with a smirk. A sexy smirk. Gah, head out of the gutter Granger!

"See," Hermione grins victoriously. "And Molly says that anyone who can get her darling Harry and lunatic son Ron through school is a miracle and therefore mature enough to consider a peer worthy of the using her first name."

Harry frowns, "Well at least she said her darling Harry. I suppose I could've been a lunatic as well."

"Yes you definitely qualify," Sirius agrees.

Harry continues to frown as Hermione's smirk of victory grows, then a look of enlightenment crosses his countenance. "Say if you're just somature… then why do you lie and tell everyone that asks in school that you're 5' 3"?" Harry queries with a smirk of his own.

"I- I," Hermione sputters.

"Well, Well, Well. What's this I hear? Our dear 'Mione wishes to be taller?" Sirius exchanges a conspiratorial glance with his godson that Hermione doesn't miss for a second.

"Hey, don't-" she begins to protest.

"Don't what 'Mione?"Harry taunts, "Don't tell dear Sirius that since the heels on the school shoes add a bit of height so you think you can get away with an outright lie? Not very mature of you, don't ya think?" his smirk widens, "Say Sirius, you think we ought to punish her?"

Sirius grins and a mischievous glint lights up his beautiful grey eyes, "no Harry. Our poor dear Hermione is just curious and pining for something she can never have,-" oh you have no idea, she thinks morosely-"great height. I just feel so sorry for her don't you?"

Harry looks confused for a second then a light of understanding fills his emerald orbs as he catches on, "Sure, Sirius. I feel right bad for poor 'Mione. Whatever will we do to right this grave injustice?"

"Well love," Sirius says as he turns to Hermione and tugs on her hand to pull her to him. When his skin touches hers she fights the urge to gasp the tingling sensation that overtakes her entire body as the now familiar plucking feeling that stirs in the depths of her soul rings out again at the contact; he seems to shake himself into composure before continuing, "It seems to me that it's your dream to be taller. Such a mature young lady and good friend to our dear Molly deserves to have all her dreams come true, I think." And without further consideration Sirius leans down, grabs Hermione by the waist and throws her over the right shoulder of his long, lean and muscled 6' 3" frame, supporting her with an arm around her knees.

Once Hermione shakes off the surprise she begins to pound her small fists on Sirius' back in protest. "Put my down this instant Sirius Orion Black," She scolds but her giggles give her away.

Sirius begins to swing her around and she screams, squealing, "Don't drop me Sirius, please don't drop me," in breathy pleads.

Sirius swings her around to cradle her small body to him in a princess hold against his chest, "don't worry love, I'd never let you fall."

I think it may be too late for that, she muses. She's afraid she's fallen for her best friend's godfather, Hard.

(Change in dreamscape)

Harry moans in pain and clutches his scar, "What is it harry? What's wrong?" Hermione dashes over to him in a fret of worry.

She sees a stray tear roll down his cheek and thus clutches him to her chest as a way of comfort, "He has Sirius Hermione. Voldemort has Sirius in the ministry, he's torturing him." Hermione tenses at his revelation; not due to his use of the dreaded name- after all as a wise man once said fear of a name serves only to increase fear of the thing itself and she refused to give Voldemort that power over her- no, what had her tenses was the news that the great lord oh snaky one had Sirius.

"Harry, he knows about your connection, he could be trying to trick you, draw you out so he can finally kill the-boy-who-lived." Hermione reasoned.

Ron walks over and questioned, "What's this about the-boy-who-won't-bloody-well-die?"

"Voldemort's got Sirius," Harry answers bleakly.

"Gah the name Harry, don't say the name," Ron whines.

"Oh, get over it Ron can't you see that's not important right now." Hermione rolls her eyes. "Voldemort isn't even his name anyway, it's Tom Riddle, and he's nothing more than a coward afraid of death with a really icky snake face."

"Oh our grown up little Hermione said icky, yes I really see all the maturity mum always drones on about," Ron snorts.

"Not the point right now Ronald!" Hermione chides.

"Yeah Ron, he's got Sirius, he's got Sirius!" Harry reiterates frantically.

Hermione thinks about repeating that its most likely a trick, Sirius wouldn't leave Grimmauld place for essentially anything and if he had they would likely be notified, but if there was even the remote possibility Sirius was in danger she had to be there; that tugging at her heart, her soul, told her so. "Right lets go. Where to?"

"The department of mysteries, they're torturing him in the department of mysteries," Harry answers as the three dash from the common room to round up Dumbledore's Army.

(Change in dreamscape)

"I don't see him," Neville acknowledges with a frown.

"No dip Sherdock," Ron rolls his eyes.

"Nice try at a muggle reference, but its Sherlock Ron, and don't be mean to Neville." Hermione corrects.

"He's after the prophecy Harry he'll come with Sirius once he knows you have it, the nargles are sure of it," the dreamy voice of Luna assures as she points at the glowing blue orb Harry is staring at. Muttering 'I need to hear it.'

"Just one problem we don't have Black," comes the cold drawl of Lucius Malfoy. So arrogant he doesn't even wear a mask, thinks it's so easy to win, we'll see about that, Hermione scoffs.

"Where is he Malfoy?!" Harry spits.

Bellatrix's evil cackle sounds behind them and all heads whip around to regard her, "Oh my dear cousin is fine; it's you and your mudblood and blood traitorous friends you should be worried for." Hermione knows she should be worried, terrified even but all she feels is relief that Sirius is safe and determination to take down some death eater scum. "Give us the prophecy," Bellatrix continues with a demand.

"Never," The group says together.

"Voldemort will never know the prophecy, Harry and us will protect it." Hermione states resolutely as she flexes her wrist to release her wand from her forearm holster.

"How dare you say the dark lords name filthy mudblood," Bellatrix screams as she hurls an angry curse at Hermione which she deflects with ease destroying a whole row of prophecies.

"She dares because Voldemort is nothing more than a psychotic fuck up who's too cowardly to acknowledge his muggle ties by using his real name, Tom Riddle." Harry sneers.

"Ahh," Bellatrix screams as she unleashes a barrage of curses.

"REDUCTO," Hermione screams and she pulls on the hands of Neville and Luna as she runs down the aisle to her right, praying all the way that her other friends escaped the massive explosions of shelves and glowing prophecies she had just caused.

Though if they did so would the death eaters, ugh.

Great, this is just great. Hermione thinks as she runs into a large, circular atrium through another side door.

Just then she sees Harry, Ginny and Ron enter through another door to the left and breathes a sigh of relief. That relief is short lived however as fifteen Death Eaters burst through the doors behind them.

Fifteen Death Eaters against six student witches and wizards, great, just great.

No sooner than Hermione thought this than seven order members descended from the skies, literally, and again she breathes a sigh of short lived relief; short lived because Sirius is amongst them, damn it all to hell.

But Hermione has no time dwell on this as she is thrown into a duel with Antonin Dolohov and two others, wow they must be really mad that a 'mudblood dared to use the Dark lords name.' She muses as she hurls spell after spell at her aggressors.

As she takes down the other two with quick, stupefies and incarcerous spells Dolohov screams at her, "You'll pay for that mudblood."

But she simply waves her wand to silence him and ignores the furry in his black eyes as she focuses on something else entirely. "Sirius," she screams as she sees his cousin Bellatrix sneak up behind him as he finishes binding Lucius Malfoy to end their duel as victor. He turns and his eyes narrow on her, "look out she screams." As she indicates Bellatrix he begins to turn but is too late, "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS," Hermione screams as she waves her wand at Bellatrix but her eyes never leave Sirius' gorgeous grey ones as her spell fails to hit Bellatrix just as the crazy bitches own hits it's mark and Sirius begins flying backwards through the veil. His stormy sorrowful eyes are the last thing she sees before an indescribable pain take over and she is plunged into darkness. But the unbearable pain of Dolohov's curse she was just hit with is nothing compared to the agony in heart. She should've done more, if she were just a little quicker, a little stronger…

A piece of her soul was broken.

Sirius black was dead and it was her fault.

~o~O~o~

Hermione shot up on her bed in the hospital wing with a gasp, "I'm sorry, Sirius," she screams, eyes still closed. "It's my fault I'm so sorry!"

She slowly peels her eyes open to see she is staring straight into the swirling grey eyes that had been the last thing she'd seen haunting her in her dream, well more of a nightmare really.

"How do you know my name?" the younger Sirius asks, not bothering with the whole 'I'm sorry it's my fault' thing as he looks on with narrowed eyes and one of his perfect brows quizzically cocked; that had always made her jealous, she could never raise just one.

What could she say here? She panicked, it wasn't as if she could tell them she was from the future, they'd think she was crazy and put her on a one way floo to the St. Mungo's psych ward quicker than you could Merlin's soddy toe fungus. She had to lie…

"I- I don't," she mumbles.

Yeah, stutter why don't you Hermione? Real convincing. She fights an eye roll at her sardonic musings.

"Yes you do, now tell me how," Sirius demands in a raised voice that Hermione can't help but flinch from; Sirius had never raised his voice at her- at least not in the past, well future- but she feared it would be a repeat occurrence here if she couldn't avoid him. She had to lie, but how.

Hermione was overwhelmed, she couldn't fight the tears that sprang up in her eyes. Seeing him again was too much, too painful. It reminded her of all that she had lost, Harry and Ron are essentially dead to her now; she couldn't go back to a time that doesn't yet exist, she had to remain here and meet the end of her life as she knew it. She will never see all of those she knew before as she once had; and here they were, so many familiar faces reminding her of all she had lost with a few simple turns of a time-turner and a devious little rat.

The worst reminder of all was him. Him with his stormy eyes and chiseled jaw. Him with his long wavy hair and the infuriatingly perfect, sexy way he cocks a quizzical brow. Him with his gorgeous aristocratic features perfectly offset by his ruggedly handsome look and bad boy persona, complete with leather jacket, tattoos, a hint of stubble, and a flying motorbike. He was the worst because losing him the first time was damn near impossible and seeing him again it was happening all over again.

And both times it was her fault.

If only she'd done more at the department of mysteries. If only she'd been a little quicker with her curse on Bellatrix. If only she'd been a little stronger. After that day the grief had been unbearable, she had taken it upon herself to learn every defensive and offensive spell, curse and shield possible wandlessly and nonverbally so she could protect Harry no matter what. She would not fail again. She would not be too weak. She would not be too slow. She had to protect him, as much out of love for her honorary brother as out of deference for Sirius'- the man she was quite certain she loved and always would- memory. Harry was the last thing Sirius had left after spending years in Azkaban at the death of one of his best friends, an unfortunate circumstance that was a direct result of the betrayal of another said best friend- though unfortunate was putting it a bit too lightly. And being here meant she failed. Failed to never be to slow or too weak. Failed to protect Harry and thus… failed to honor Sirius with her great strength unbridled courage. That was unacceptable; that was unforgivable.

And here again if only. If only she was a little quicker, quicker to get them away from the snatchers. If only she was a little stronger, stronger to fight of the effects of the cruciatus curse; stronger to fight off that little rat, convince him that this was not the path to tread to redemption- though he did seem to think there was none for him, redemption that is, Hermione mused. When it came down to it, the moment when it mattered most, she wasn't quick, wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough, and now Harry was dead for her, Ron was dead for her, everyone she knew was dead for her… and she was dead too. Her life as she knew it was gone because she couldn't go back, or rather forward in terms of time, and she was stuck here with all the reminders of what she had lost.

Hermione laughed bitterly, Pettigrew made the wrong choice. How can I save the whole world, end a war of the past, if I can't even protect myself, protect my friends? Sure I would gladly give my life to rid the world of Voldemort and I would gladly give it a million times over to spare Harry the pain of losing his parents, but clearly that's not enough when time and time again I've proven incapable of protecting my own. He thought 'brightest witch of her age perfect candidate to recreate time and stop the most powerful darkness of all.' Fool I'm no bright witch and it's not like I can go back and tell him that, there's no going to a timeline that doesn't exist and sending anyone back this far destroys the timeline.

Time is a fickle friend. A fact that first allowed Harry and herself to save Sirius in their third year.they went back to the time Remus turned and rescued Buckbeak from execution- thank god for Dumbledore and memory charms so they're duel with a Ministry executioner was forgotten by said executioner; Hagrid of course remembered, he deserved to know that his 'little Beaky' (little my arse) was safe after all- they got there right as the ax began its downward swing, one well-placed levitating charm and Walden Macnair was knocked out by the blunt end of his own ax. Ah the irony of being taken down by one's own weapon, simply poetic too, being as he was completely evil. It was a bit like having Ron there with them, taking him down the same way he had beaten the troll in their first year, it was this that gave them courage to finish all the dangerous things they had to get done that night, having the third member of the 'Golden Trio' there in spirt. Those further dangerous things included rescuing Sirius from the dementors by the lake- with an impeccably cast patronus from Harry, and the awakening rennervate plus restorative chocolate from Hermione he was well again, or as well as could be when fresh out of 12 years in Azkaban- there were hugs, tears, and promises of staying as in touch as possible before the two fugitives were sent away to continue to evade the law for crimes uncommitted. The Ministry remained unaware of Sirius' presence at the castle that night, at least until Snape woke up with an interesting story to tell. It was just too bad they couldn't catch Pettigrew at the time and not be putting their chance at saving Sirius' life at risk.

"Slippery little rat," Hermione muttered.

"What was that?" Sirius asked shaking Hermione from her deprecatory musings.

"Oh, uh nothing," she stuttered in reply.

"Hmm… well that's funny because I just asked you how the fuck you know who I am?!" Sirius demanded scowling.

"Language," Hermione reprimanded in flippant instinct calling a potent memory to pass.

"MUDBLOODS! STAIN ON MY NOBLE HOUSE! YOU DARE LET THEM ENTER! MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS, ROTTEN FILTH!" The portrait of Lady Walburga Black screamed in outrage.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU CRAZY OLD BINT!" Her sole living heir and most hated son Sirius Black yelled back, louder if possible.

Hermione gasped in mock outrage, "Sirius Orion Black! Language!" she scolded with a façade of incensement.

"Sorry pup, just can't help it she truly is what my initials suggest," Sirius acquiesced with an adorable lopsided smile, one may call it a 'panty dropping smile.'

Hermione thinks about it for a second S.O.B.? S.O.B… Son of a…

She slaps his arm in realization, "Oh Sirius," she chastens.

"What? It cannot be denied, the women's a right bitch." He shrugs.

Hermione giggles, "Be that as it may, and be that as it makes you a son of one by proxy, you hardly live up to the ramifications and traits such a name means to insult, you are nothing like your mother; you're a wonderful man."

"Thank you," he smiles genuinely at her. "Oh, but I assure you pup, beyond being the literal son of one I can act quite like what the name implies. Enough have certainly called me by it, mostly the lucky ladies I couldn't be bothered to escort out of my bed chambers back in the day; they don't take to pointing to the door or shooing waves to well." He acknowledged with a smirk.

Hermione gasps and slaps his arm again, "Sirius!"

"That's my name kitten, a real S.O.B," he laughs and she rolls her eyes.

"You know you really shouldn't curse so often Sirius," Hermione admonished once he calmed.

"Oh, you're right pup, I'm sorry. It endangers your poor, innocent, virgin ears." He joked with an eye roll of his own.

"Hey!" she protests. "Who said anything about virgin ears? I merely reserve my use of such expletives for things such as death eater scum and my innermost fearful, angry thoughts; makes it all the more scathing when I finally do put them to use." She cavalierly winks.

"Oh, but Kitten I must keep cursing often! Around you at least, you're quite cute when you're all flustered like you were," Sirius declares.

Hermione slaps his arm again then drops her hand as a confused expression passes her countenance, "I don't get that."

"Get, what? That you're cute?" Sirius queried. "Because I assure you my dear you are. Quite so actually. I've decided to send Harry to school this year with a few more tricks up his robes, gotta beat away all those single minded boys with a stick; trust me I know I was the worst of those single minded boys in my day and we ate birds like you up."

Hermione scoffs with a blush, "no that is not what I meant. I was merely wondering why you call me both kitten and pup. Seems a bit impossible to be both, they're contradictory, opposites after all."

"Oh it is impossible love, but you are the impossible. A miracle- as Molly so accurately stated- in all of our lives." He admits softly.

Hermione turns to face him and could've sworn she'd seen the same longing forlornness she felt swimming deep in his slate pools, that she could hear the same singing in his heart the she so often did in hers stirring up again with just this one look, just this one touch as he brushed a curl behind her ear erecting shivers with his close proximity. He looks at her with eyes that say exactly what she feels 'I want you but I can never have you;' for alas it isn't their time, they stand separated by to many years, to many losses and circumstances of war. He was a shell of a man and he refused to snuff her lightness, she was the spirit of joy in their group, a brightness untainted by the darkness around her. And she was too much at risk, she couldn't get to close and have him lose someone else he loved when she almost inevitably died at the behest of Voldemort; he had suffered too much.

"Excuse me?!" the younger currently present Sirius Black demanded indignation.

Hermione is again shaken from her reverie and looks on in confusion, what's got him all in a tizzy? She wondered, oh right I admonished him for his language, he never did like people doing that, he never let anyone he would send them the same death glare he is giving me now. No, he never let anyone scold him so except for me, with me he would laugh and ruffle my hair and call me by one of his many ridiculous yet endearing pet names, but it's different now; here I'm nothing, I'm just like everyone else because this is not my Sirius.

"Habit," she apologizes nonchalantly, waving him off with a flick of her hand.

"Well miss bloody fucking habit, tell me how you know me because it's bloody off-putting for someone I've never seen before in my life to know who I am." He commands again.

Hermione couldn't help the harsh glare this evoked from her, "I will not be spoken to this way Sirius Orion Black!" she puts a hand over her mouth in shock after her outburst, way to go Hermione break out all three names real conducive to your story of not knowing him.

"How do you know me?!" He screams in her face grabbing onto her upper arms almost tight enough to bruise and giving a light shake.

"I DON'T!" she yells back louder, shrugging out of his hold.

"Obviously you do or you wouldn't know my fucking full name, so quit being a bitch and just tell me!" He demands once more.

It's at this point that the tears come, she can no longer stop them. Hearing Sirius Black call her a bitch were the limits to what her now fragile heart could take. He had never before raised his voice at Hermione let alone called her such a deplorable name, all this served to confirm what she already knew, her Sirius Black was gone; the man she loved, the man she watched die, was just as dead to her as he was the second he feel through the veil- despite looking so healthy, so young, vibrant, and whole. She could see none of the warmth for her in his slate grey eyes, hear none of it in his tone, he was gone and listening to that word fall from his perfect lips proved that she had lost him two times over; because here, seeing him again, hearing him again she knew she would always love him and this man was not him to this man she was a bitch she was nothing.

And he was right, she was nothing; she had nothing. She was an empty shell with no one left in the world to love her, to care for her, no one left in the world that she could call a friend. Her world, as filled with darkness as it was, was home to her, she had her friends there, a second family in the Weasleys and Harry. Though many of those people were still alive now, Arthur and Molly, Remus, even those she had already lost back then were here, like Albus, like… Sirius. But these people weren't them, they might as well be dead and gone because they weren't the people she knew; who knew her, who loved her. She was stuck in a time where everyone she loved either did not exist or neither knew nor cared that she did; she was cursed to eternally love a dead man, cursed to eternally miss a family and friends that were no longer hers and it was all she could do but to cry in despair at the agony of it all. Cry at the injustice. Writhe on the floor of her black abyss of unadulterated, pure, grief filled pain.

~o~O~o~

"Shit man, you made her cry," Fabien scolded as Gideon directed a deep scowl at Sirius' shocked face.

This girl was utterly despondent, sure maybe he shouldn't have called her a bitch but never before had it evoked such a serious, no pun intended, response. It was like she wasn't even here, like it wasn't him saying those awful things to her but someone else, someone who- hearing that from- destroyed her. He felt a little twinge of inexplicable anger for whoever that was and a downpour of guilt having caused this reaction.

He was not usually one to degrade a women so; he was a charmer, cool and collected until it came time for a fight. But there was something about her and it didn't sit right with him. She made him feel things, made his skin tingle with the simple brushing of his against skin hers, made his heart beat with the anticipation of a lovesick schoolboy with the simple sound of his whispered name on her perfect, pink, pouty lips –a name she wasn't supposed to fucking know- and no one made him feel like that, even when he was a lovesick schoolboy. It was strange and it felt so right but he renounced that feeling because that simply was not who he was, he didn't harbor feelings, he didn't stick around, he merely played bangers and dash with his women and no strange, curly haired brunette was going to change that, no matter how beautiful.

Plus how could it be right anyway? She knew his name. How the fuck did she know his name? He was certain he had never met her before because, not to sound cheesy or cliché or anything, but he would've remembered that face; those whiskey eyes were simply unforgettable, they made him want to drink of her, to swim in them and render himself lost happily in their watery depths forever. So that alone made him certain they were not acquainted. That meant she was not right, he had never seen her before yet her eyes gave the omniscient appearance of knowing all his darkest of secrets, of knowing the worlds darkest secrets. It sent shivers down his spine and it was wrong, just plain wrong.

He couldn't help but lose his temper when she looked at him like that, with such sorrow and regret, couldn't resist an outburst when she so blatantly lied to him. Didn't know him his fine arse. Maybe he was a little to direct and abrupt in his questioning, but with all these lies and strangely evoked feelings he was certain he hated her for the mess she made him; so his looked of shocked regret faded and he was soon glaring mercilessly at the prone, shaking body of the tiny, sobbing women.

"Shh, it's okay tiny angel," the twins cooed together as they took her trembling little body in their arms.

He turned his glare on the stocky twins, "she's no angel," he muttered under his breath.

They continued to sooth her as Sirius looked on in distaste as her sobs subsided and a hush fell over the room, her silent drops continued to cascade in a glistening stream down her face. Why did Sirius feel the almost overwhelming need to brush those sparking tears away? Why did he find her crying form so beautiful? He fucking hated this. He fucking hated her, only he didn't really which made him hate her all the more; that is if it was possible to hate something you can't seem to hate, Merlin it was bloody confusing!

"Miss," the soft voice of the headmaster broke the eerie silence, finally deciding to intervene and prevent Sirius' instigation of another screaming match, "can you tell us something about yourself? Anything about you so we might get you home to your family?"

"I have no family they're all dead and gone, along with all of my friends. My home is gone. My life is gone. The future's gone. I'm gone." She stared at him blankly as she answered in a dead tone.

Sirius fights the urge to wince at her devastatingly austere answer and flinch from the feeling that he was the reason for her new seemingly unfeeling nature as she pulls on an intricate mask.

The twins gasped in disbelief at her bleak account of her reality.

"Miss, whatever do you mean when you say the future is gone?" Dumbledore queries with a lifted brow.

"I mean only that I have none," she answered flatly.

Gosh that's a bit of a depressing way to think, what happened to her? No, he reminded himself in a harsh, resolute manner, she's strange and off putting and you hate her; you don't care.

"Okay, I'm sorry that that is how you feel miss." Dumbledore relents. "But can you at least give us a name, something to call you by."

"Hermione Granger," she answered in monotone.

"Granger, Muggle-born I take it?"

"Clearly," she says emotionlessly, calmly even, as she rolled up the sleeve of her hospital gown to display the crudely cut slur carved into her arm, it was clearly a recent wound. "Or did you not see?"

She gave no reaction, no pause to the sharp intakes of breath around the room, just pulled herself out of the twins' arms and sat there cross-legged and expressionless.

"Who did this to you?" They demanded.

Sirius couldn't say anything he just stood there gap mouthed and fury filled, fury at whoever did this to her and fury at himself for caring about the girl he was so trying to convince himself he hates; hates because she makes him feel, feel the kind of things he has forbidden himself from feeling, he did not feel this kind of love, it was avoidable and he was a danger to those he loved, he loved enough already, endangered enough already- Lily, James, his Potter parents, Remus, Peter, even his traitor brother Regulus. His hatred was better for her really, but it just wasn't there. Though he could fake it, he could pretend because he really, really wanted to hate this little witch who knew him and was lying about it, it incensed him, she incensed him; and yet he found it impossible to be loath of her.

"I don't remember," she answered in a whisper, the monotony gone from her voice as she lets another of the silent tears that had yet to stop pouring fall anew.

"You're lying," Sirius states boldly.

"I assure you I am not," she murmurs.

"You are," he argues voice rising again in his growing impatience, a signal of his impending rage. "And you know who I am. How?"

"I assure you I don't, know who you are that is," she answers in that eerily calm voice she'd adopted.

"Yes, you do," he said through gritted teeth. "You said my name before anyone gave any form of introduction, you can't deny that you somehow know me or at least know of me."

"I would assume you would know more of our relationship then I Black, I have amnesia. I may have known you but as I said all I know are dead, and you appear to be living; so I may have known you then but as you are still breathing I do not know you now," she explains robotically.

"That makes no sense!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Doesn't it?" she volleys in her same emotionless tone with her head cocked to the side.

"NO IT DOESN'T! HOW DO YOU KNOW ME?! WHO DID THIS TO YOU? I HAVE TO KNOW, I NEED TO KNOW!"

"I have amnesia," she states as though that answers everything.

"No you don't, you can't," Sirius denies her claims.

"Oh, I assure you I can and I do, amnesia is a common side effect of repeated bouts of the cruciatus curse." She explains matter-of-factly, much to the wincing of the men around her- well aside from Albus Dumbledore, he remained as stoic as ever, only a slight diming in his ever twinkling eyes served as a sign of his displeasure. "That and insanity. I'm unsure which is worse though, knowing you're gone and that there's nothing you can do or not having the presence of mind to care." She continues with the same simple tone of one commenting on the weather, her voice so eerily calm it sent an unwelcome shiver down Sirius' spine.

It seemed a façade, a defense mechanism against the influx of her complex, pain filled emotions to him, but he could see them in her eyes.

"Who did this to you?" He asked all signs of anger gone from his voice.

"I have amnesia," She whispered, her voice cracking and betraying her emotionless mask.

"I don't believe you," He informs vehemently, though in a gentle voice.

She makes no reply aside from a soft, sad smile as she lies on her side, curling into the fetal position. In fact she makes no reply to anything for days, simply remained curled in her ball staring blankly at the wall; seemingly unhearing of any of the men's questions, and unreceptive of any of Madame Pomphrey's instructions. The only times she moved or made a sound were when she was deep in the throes of sleep, here she screamed, here she yelled. 'It's a fake, the swords a fake.' 'Please no! Don't touch me, stop! Get your tongue off of me!' That one in particular ignited a livid fury within Sirius, he prayed to Merlin that whoever touched her in such a way never got the chance again, Madame Pomphrey said there were no signs of rape, she seemed to be spared from that particular indignity, but those words certainly implied it's been attempted and it was worrisome that whoever tried could still be out there. Waiting, biding their time to hurt her again. He would rip them limb from limb for even thinking of it in the first place. Not because it was her, she had nothing to do with it - or at least that's what he tells himself – but because Sirius simply despised weakling little cowards that asserted their power over women in such a way and he couldn't let them do it again to someone else; the dark side had a propensity towards such violent lascivious actions and he considered to possibly be the worst crime amongst them. Though one of her outburst would have almost made him laugh were she not writhing around in such agony when she said it, 'oh go on now and scurry out with your tail between your legs, you are nothing but a weak, rabid rat.'

Yes she had some interesting, if not disheartening, things to say in her slumber, Hermione Granger was an enigma; one Sirius was desperate to figure out if only to understand why she plagued his mind so. Yes he would figure her out. He would figure her out so he could convince his pesky, protesting heart to fully succumb to his mind's desperate desire to hate her pretty, duplicitous face.

AN: So that's it guys, I'm kind of unsure about it, it's the longest chapter I've written yet for this story yet. Did you like the dream sequence? Did you like Sirius' bangers and mash reference when he used bangers and dash as a description of his relationship with women? Please let me know. And oh yeah Hermione doesn't really have amnesia if you couldn't tell by the whole "I don't believe you" and sad smile thing. It's just a lie to protect the others and keep her from reveling her true identity because right now she's too distraught to try and change anything and old Voldy would stop at nothing to get her invaluable knowledge of the future. Thanks for all the support so far seeing all the reviews, favorites and follows truly makes my day, I don't need the recognition but it is much appreciated so pretty please don't take it away.

Love,

~3lw