NOTE: I finally have a beta, yay! Much appreciation to Meshkol for taking the time to both discuss plotty things and look over chapters!


Save me, somebody take my hand

And lead me

Slow me down

Don't let love pass me by

Just show me how

'Cause I'm ready to fall

Slow me down-

Don't let me live a lie

Before my life flies by

Chasing the clock and I wish I could stop it

Just need to breathe, somebody please

Slow me down

-Slow Me Down, Emmy Rossum

Chapter Fifty-one: Determination

There was nothing for it: Hermione would need to access the Restricted Section of the library. Before she tried to get her hands on the Invisibility Cloak again, though, Hermione decided to try telling some, not all, of the truth to someone who might grant her access. Bundling up for the cold, snowy weather outside, Hermione grabbed the letter she'd just written and headed out with her school bag. She was up early (again) for a Monday, and no one else from her group of friends were in the common room.

The Owlery was chilly, and Hermione's fingers kept fumbling as she tied her scroll to a very patient owl. She made sure to give it a treat. As she reached the warmth of the school building again, she met Sirius heading out with his broom and his bag. The fur-lined coat and expensive gloves he was wearing were a reminder of just how wealthy and well-known his family really was. As always, though, Sirius wore his heritage with a casual indifference that was as impressive as it was endearing.

"Mia! You must come here right now and kiss me, my mother loves this coat," he said to her urgently.

Hermione immediately understood. "You're just using me because I'm Muggle-born," she complained, walking over to him and sliding her fingers through the fur.

"And your brains," Sirius said, kissing her lightly. "And your cleverness." Another kiss, deeper this time. "And your beauty," he said, against her lips as though loathe to move away even to compliment her, his hand winding into her hair. "And-" Hermione kissed him before he was able to finish the statement, her tongue chasing the sweetness of the hot chocolate he'd had before going out. It might as well have been laced with firewhiskey for how intoxicating he tasted to her.

Sirius lifted her up against him, his strength showing as his lips never left hers. His next action confused her until she felt a strange sensation of lifting, and Hermione looked around to find that he'd mounted his broom, with her weight fully supported by his right leg.

"This had better be a set up to a 'sweep me off my feet' joke," she told Sirius.

"I want to show you something, Mia," Sirius said, opting for sincerity. "No tricks, no pranks, just my favorite thing shown to my favorite person." His grey eyes sparkled with intensity in the morning light, and she was blown away. She couldn't completely turn off her brain, even in a moment like this, however.

"Don't oversell me," she said. "You've only known me for a very short time. I might have, I don't know, some horrible personality quirk you'll hate."

"That's the thing about you, though," Sirius said, bringing the broom back down to earth without setting her down with it. "You're always thinking about me, wanting to protect me, even when it comes to you. I don't think you realize how rare that is." He leaned over and kissed her softly.

"I love you, of course I want to protect you!" Hermione said instinctively. The words took a few seconds to register, after she heard herself say them. "Oh!"

"Don't take it back?" Sirius said, holding her close and resting his forehead on hers. He looked completely overcome.

"I would never take it back, no matter what. You hear me?" Hermione said, suddenly very fierce. "No matter what." She surged forward and kissed him, open-mouthed and needy. He met her with equal intensity, and they stood there, the perfect illustration of young love, as students and faculty came and went around them.


Minerva recognized the owl that flew in and proffered a scroll from its leg as a Hogwarts owl. She was in the midst of sitting and overseeing an in-class essay when it appeared, and so there was no interruption to her teaching flow, for which she was grateful. When she saw who it was from, she wasn't surprised.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I must speak with you about some things I feel I must research, things I would be researching right now had I not fallen back into the past. As you might imagine, these are things that students at Hogwarts should not have to think about, much less deal with, but here we are.

I must also be honest, I am very burdened by some of the things I know of the future. As sympathetic and great a man as Headmaster Dumbledore is, he seems to live in a world untouched by worries and consequences, and I wish to speak with someone who is more grounded in the here and now, as ironic as my saying that may be.

May I visit your office after dinner?

Your student,

Hermione Granger

Minerva knew which owl treats the owls liked best, so she tapped a few from the envelope she kept them in and hurriedly wrote a positive response for Hermione, careful to mark it with her 1977 name, just in case. The owl soared off, probably showing off for the class, and she silenced a few titters with a severe expression unmatched to the intrigued way she felt inside. The fact that Hermione had signed her letter as from her true name planted a seed of dread and excitement that Minerva found herself unable to completely dispel.

After dinner, she heard a knock and, rather than forcing the nervous girl to come across the mostly dark, empty classroom by herself, Minerva crossed the room quickly and opened the door in person.

"Good evening, dear," she said, stepping aside so Hermione could walk past her into the room. "We'll take tea in my office space-it's through the little room you and James Potter found yourselves earlier this year." Her perfectly straight face was practiced and easily adopted, but she let her eyes crinkle a bit at the edges to show Hermione her amusement.

"That detention has to be the most diabolical I've seen or heard of in all my years at Hogwarts," Hermione said vehemently. "Everyone was impressed."

"That might explain the good behavior I've been seeing lately from Gryffindor House." There was a teapot and a plate of pastries for them when they entered the office, and the two of them settled down in the chairs set up in front of her desk. They exchanged pleasantries for a few long minutes, the suspense gathering in her stomach until Minerva couldn't wait any longer.

"So, what brings you here today? Given the signature on the message, I presume it's to do with your-"

"My reality," Hermione interrupted, a look of grave seriousness on her face. "I don't want to break any perceived rules about time travel, and how ridiculous I sound even saying things like that! Keeping everything to myself is starting to make me feel like I've gone mad. I need to talk about some of these things with somebody, to be quite honest. I also need to research something that… might require access to-"

"The restricted section of the library?" Minerva asked shrewdly.

Hermione nodded. Minerva felt a deep sense of kinship with the young witch. She clearly felt a moral dilemma, and there were two ways she was dealing with it: research and seeking help from someone she trusted. It was telling that she sought advice, wrestling with what she knew and how to deal with it instead of trying to bend the future to her will with the knowledge advantage she had, or seek to erect walls around herself, directing all thoughts inward.

Minerva stood, pulling her wand from her skirt pocket and leaning over to brush a tear from Hermione's eye, noting how she leaned slightly into the touch.

"It's clear you see me as a person you trust, and I don't mind telling you that makes me feel good about my future self and how the next twenty years pass," she told Hermione, turning to cast a battery of silencing and warding charms. "You no doubt recognize some of these spells. You may speak freely, with no concern about being overheard or recorded."

Hermione was biting her lip, having visibly relaxed on seeing the many protective spells Minerva had cast. She realized that Hermione must now be concerned with what, if anything, to share with her.

"I took care of the room, but I can do nothing with myself more than promise you discretion," Minerva said in open honesty.

"Oh, your word is more than enough," Hermione rushed to assure her. "I'm just trying to separate out things we know, with things I know, and when you'll know them." Hermione took a sip of her tea and wrapped her hands around the now comfortably warm mug. "Right. Despite appearances here at Hogwarts, you are fighting a war, yes?"

Minerva nodded. "It's long since been terrible enough to call it that, but I still wince at the term."

"Have you ever watched a Muggle film?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Or seen a program on the television?"

Taken aback, Minerva could only shake her head.

"Well, I'm trying to describe a pause in the action-oh! Imagine reading a really captivating book, then. You place your bookmark, and everything that's happening in the story is basically frozen until you have time to read more." She paused, noting Minerva's nod, and continued. "So, at some point in the future, the war is… paused."

"Paused, but not won," Minerva guessed.

"Yes. And some terrible things happen, and some good things, and I-I just don't know how to preserve the good things without the terrible things!" Hermione shut her eyes and took some deep breaths before opening them again and fixing Minerva with a steady look. "That's why I came to you."

"Firstly, I imagine that would be overwhelming to me if I were in your position, so I can appreciate that you need someone to talk to," Minerva said, as kindly as she could. "Secondly, do you need advice, or an ear? I can offer both, but I prefer to keep my memory intact, and I am only human."

"It's a pity Muggle recording devices are so large in this time period," Hermione said in a mock wistful voice. "I would give ten galleons to have that last bit on playback."

Minerva hurrumphed. "Presumably you mention a Muggle device because you know better than to think I'd let you cast a spell to record me."

"Exactly. But I do trust you, Professor, I always have."

"Well, then. Share what you feel you must, and I'll do my best to stay objective," Minerva said. "You spoke of a pause in the war," she prompted.

"Yes, there's a kind of… crescendo, then a pause," Hermione said, hesitating.

"People die, I presume?" Minerva said, steeling herself for the look that would likely follow if she were right. It was too late to take it back.

Hermione's face did fall, her eyes scrunched up tight as though to deny the images she might be seeing in her memory. She nodded.

"People do die in war," Minerva said, hating the sentiment but knowing it was important to convey. "The very best we can do is ensure that it's for a purpose."

"That's the problem," Hermione said miserably. "The very worst of it has to happen, at least as far as I've been able to figure, and there's a prophecy-but it hasn't been made, yet."

She was clearly working herself up again, and Minerva leaned forward, patting her hand on Hermione's knee. "Maybe if you break your timeline into sections?"

"Al-All right," Hermione said, setting down her cup and crossing her arms. "More witches and wizards are joining You-Know-Who, and they're already hurting Muggle-borns by 1977, am I right?" At Minerva's nod, Hermione continued. "So, that's a section. Then, there's a prophecy made, and it concerns You-Know-Who, and some other people. We-I mean you, the Order of the Phoenix, care for the other people."

Minerva smiled in encouragement when Hermione mentioned the Order, again heartened by the knowledge and ownership in the way she spoke about it.

"Then, something… happens, and the war is paused." Hermione's body language tightened. Her mouth drew into a thin line and her hands clutched at her crossed arms, but the set of her jaw and the way she kept her posture ramrod straight were clear indications of the way she was warring within herself.

"And afterwards?" Minerva couldn't help asking.

"Then, well, I don't know what happens, because I was a baby, but when the war starts up again it doesn't feel as though anyone was prepared, honestly." Hermione stood up and started pacing along the little rug that sat just inside the office doorway. "So maybe I can't save… but I could encourage, you know? To stay ready."

"That information certainly doesn't sound world-breaking," Minerva said. "What about the prophecy? Did they-we seem to think it was fulfilled, then?" She couldn't imagine herself turning her back on something that was unfinished.

"I don't know what was on Dumbledore's mind at the time," Hermione said, eyes narrowed in thought. "But the circumstances could have been interpreted that way. I don't know much about it, though."

"You're sure it hasn't been made, yet?"

"Definitely sure," Hermione assured her.

"I've always secretly been curious about prophecies. How does one separate the poppycock from the genuine, as such," she told Hermione. "I positively loathe Divination, and yet." Minerva threw her hands up in frustration.

"I completely agree."

"So, I presume you wish you could save some of the lives aforementioned?" Minerva said. Hermione stopped pacing and leaned against the door, tipping her head back with a mild thump.

"Yes, but the sequence of events…" she straightened and looked at Minerva with sad resignation. "I mean, there's eventually someone who can't be trusted, but when can he not be trusted-oh!" she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

"Most of the Order are male, dear," Minerva assured her. "That's hardly enough of a secret to do harm."

Hermione was already drawing back within herself, however. The excitement was gone from her eyes, replaced by a look of resignation. "I should have known better than to open my mind up to thinking about all this, much less talking about it. I'm sorry, Professor."

It took all her self-control to simply nod and escort the girl out of the classroom and warmly wish her a good evening, but Minerva sensed that she needed to avoid arguing at all costs. Hermione had enough on her mind without being worried about making a mistake in trusting someone that she clearly cared so much about. It was touching, and after she'd settled herself back at her desk, Minerva hoped she was worthy of that trust. She wrote a quick note to Madam Pince that allowed Hermione access to the restricted area of the library before she became too distracted by the vague events that had just been described.

She had a lot to think about, not the least of which to wonder how in Merlin's name it was possible to pause a war.


Dear Hermione,

I'm starting to feel like my night time routine needs to involve repeating 'I will not feel guilty for my own happiness' over and over until I fall asleep. I try not to buy into house prejudices, but I honestly believe that had I been sorted anywhere but Gryffindor, I would have been put into a temporary coma until the solstice. The urge to change things, to just walk up to James and tell him his future is *overwhelming.* The weight of responsibility to keeping Harry safe and his future un-touched is what's stopping me. That, and hearing Sirius's voice in the Shack yelling about dying for one's friends.

I remind myself again and again, that my reality is a decent and good one, despite losing those we've lost on the way. That Harry has lived through all these things I know about (and surely some I don't), and he is still an honest, strong, brave, kind person that I'm proud to call my friend. Do I really want to trade that for an unknown future? If James and Lily are targets in 1981, won't they be continue to be?

I need to spend more time in the library. Avoidance is exactly what I think stopped everyone from being ready for You-Know-Who to return.

Hermione quietly recast her protection charm and Notice-Me-Not charm on her diary as she did every Monday evening. The library on Monday tended to be populated with very few students, which made it the perfect evening study location for Hermione. Lily's plan of reading marriage magic books with the borrowed veil was postponed when Lily found a Third year student crying in the bathroom, and asked Hermione if she could spend the evening comforting the younger Gryffindor instead.

"More blood magic?" Remus whispered in her ear. Hermione whipped around to find him standing beside her, his hands open wide in a show of being non threatening. She lowered her wand sheepishly.

"I'd ask you how you don't know any better than to sneak up on me, but I think you do, and risk it anyway," Hermione chastised.

"You just have to surround yourself with good mates; I'm more likely to hit Sirius with a pillow than a hex, nowadays," Remus said good-naturedly.

Hermione swallowed the large lump in her throat and nodded. "I've heard of your pillow fights," she said, "but it would be nice to only ever have to work with close friends, wouldn't it?" She suddenly had a thought. "What do you plan to do after Hogwarts?"

His face fell. "I can't say I haven't given it much thought, because I have," he said, shaking his head. "I appreciate attitudes like yours and Professor Sapiens, but they're the exception, not the rule. I expect I will struggle to find something I'll feel worthwhile doing." He dropped himself onto a nearby stool meant for reaching the high shelves.

"I'm sorry, I should have known better than to ask." Hermione looked down at her wand to avoid seeing anything like defeat or frustration in his eyes. Seeing it reminded her of one of her favorite spells, Expecto Patronum. "What about being a tutor?" she blurted out.

"That… has some potential, actually," Remus said.

"I mean, you are great at explaining things, even when you're doing it to be a smart-ass," Hermione teased. "And you have a way of really listening to people, especially one-on-one."

Remus had been resting his chin on his hand, looking up at her, but her comment obviously made him self-conscious, as he dusted off his trousers and stood.

"Well, I have studying of my own to do," he told her, squeezing her shoulder as he turned to walk away.

"Remus," Hermione said in a soft voice, turning to watch him. "You'll have your friends to help, you know. You shouldn't have to look alone." The brilliant smile on his face in response helped to dispel the pain she felt in her chest at the stark truth in the sentiment.

He shouldn't have to, but in a few years, he would.