A.N. Hey folks, sorry for the small delay in Sunday's posting. I'm super sick and knocked myself out with some heavy medication basically all day yesterday. Nevertheless, here is your next chapter. These next few chapters are going to cover a lot of important plotty stuff, but I promise you'll still get your juicy interactions between Hermione and everyone's favorite bad boy brothers. As always, big thanks to rotehexe for betaing, and a huge thank you to all of you. Every single review, favorite, and follow makes my day.

Special thanks to Duda Potter Black, Fast Frank, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Sincere , and a guest for commenting on chapter 19!


"Yes its me." Sirius's husky voice greeted her, sounding like the most beautiful noise despite the continued muffled ringing in her ear. This was by far the worst panic attack she'd had since Harry's death. Every time she endured one, she felt like she might die, but this was the first time she was tempted to wish for death so everything would just stop.

They sat like that for a few moments, Sirius's large and rough hands gently cradling Hermione's petite form as if she might break. Her glamours were not as strong now, having faded over the course of time that she had been sobbing and shaking. Bits of brown curl poked through the blonde sheen, and her one eye was still the grey-ish blue she had charmed it to be. Her dress was ripped down her side, which she had a vague memory of doing at some point in an effort to get more air.

When Hermione's breathing evened a little, he picked up the teacup that had been tossed off the table during the fight and filled it with water. He didn't hand it to her, simply placing it next to he knee where it rested against the carpet. There was an armchair behind him that he adjusted himself to rest against…the same warn warm-brown leather chair that she had watched Sirius sit in so frequently. It was still so startling…to see Sirius as a young man.

The man she'd known was so cracked and broken and tired. This Sirius was tired but it was in a different way. Like he was a dying star and at some point he would explode and consume everything around him. Frustration decorated his face in a way that the scars of his time in Azkaban never did. This Sirius was angry. His knuckles were wrapped in bandages that Hermione knew were not from their interaction in Diagon Alley.

Remembering suddenly, the thing she had forced him to forget, brought a renewed heat to her cheeks – which had gone incredibly pale during her attack. "There's my girl." Sirius joked, his perfectly lopsided grin causing her chest to ache. It was brutally unfair, she determined, that he was even more handsome in his youth.

"I'm not your girl." She choked out, her voice small. By this time, she had pulled her knees up to her chest and was desperately clutching them tight against her body. It helped sometimes, to make herself small.

"I know." Sirius responded, his voice just as small as she felt. There was an unspoken conversation happening between them; in words unspoken and drifting gazes. You could be, his eyes pleaded, grabbing the teacup that must've belonged to Regulus and vanishing the forgotten tea inside, filling it instead with the amber liquid from his flask. He offered it to her, not surprised when she simply shook her head. Alcohol was not a wise choice after an attack like this.

Sipping gingerly at the drink in his hand, he let the warmth and burn of the firewhiskey flow through him. Who needed liquid luck when you could be a drunkard? It didn't seem like it in the moment, but Sirius had actually been drinking less since meeting this enigmatic witch. Everytime he reached for his flask, he remembered her…her firewhiskey coloured eyes staring back at him on the steps of Longbottom Manor.

"Can I…if someone did something to you…something awful, would you ever be able to forgive them?" Her eyes were still large and red and puffed from her sobs, and her glamours had finally faded, leaving a trainwreck in a pretty dress.

"I suppose it would depend on if they had a good reason. Although if you're worried about almost killing my mother, don't be. I only wish I could've seen the witch get what was coming to her myself." He leaned his head against the chair, refusing to look at her. "Today was the first time Regulus has spoken to me in 6 years. For you. He came to find me for you. Don't…" His voice broke, and he took a long swig from his firewhiskey.

"I know that Dumbledore has you working on some grand plan, but please just…he's my brother. Please just tell me what's going on." When his eyes finally did meet hers, there was a forthright devastation she'd never seen from him before. His emotions were always hidden, layered beneath a carefully crafted persona of indifference, alcoholism, and wit. This was who Sirius Black truly was, beneath all the muck.

Hermione had no choice. She had to tell him.

"I…you have to understand. I can't tell you. Not yet. You have to…I need a vow. Not an unbreakable. If you take a vow that you will not act on the information I give you or share it with anyone, I will tell you everything." It was a risk. Remus was more level-headed, fiercely loyal, but level-headed. If Sirius found out about Peter or the Potters and did anything to change the timeline severely, it could change everything. Hermione needed Voldemort to think Pettigrew was not compromised. She needed him to show up on October 31 in two years' time and try to kill her friends. She needed this all to go relatively as planned or the despair would consume her.

Sirius was taken aback by her words, as frenzied and insistent as they were. Did he trust this witch enough to give her his word on pain of death? Could he promise that he wouldn't act on this information? She was watching him carefully now, exhaustion clear on her face. This secret had been too heavy a burden and maybe, just maybe, if she told Sirius, the tightness in her chest that formed every time she thought of him would go away.

His lips were tight as if he was evaluating the worth of her words. Hermione's mind ran relentlessly as he considered her offer. It was mid-October now, and she had less than a month before Regulus would be asked to offer Kreacher's services. Sirius's birthday…she reminded herself.

"Alright." Sirius's sad eyes were stony once again, locking his gaze onto her with an intensity that felt like it might burn her if she kept looking.

"I need my wand. I…I gave Regulus my wand." There was shame in her voice and her face as she spoke, and she wondered for a moment if the tears that had only barely just stopped would start again. Sirius simply nodded his head, standing and moving towards the threshold that lead to the hallway. His feet sounded the creaks of the stairs as he walked. Hermione counted the seconds from when his footsteps stopped until they were once again sounding down the stairs. 26 seconds in total.

He had her wand in his hand when he returned, the light wood of her wand looking too small in his large hands. "Why did Regulus have your wand?" Sirius asked. He could have asked Regulus, Hermione knew this, but instead he stood in front of her holding her own wand.

"He didn't want…" A strangled, choking laugh bubbled up from her throat and she took a deep breath to cut herself off. "He didn't want me to curse Walburga. Lot of good that did. How…how is she?"

It was a simple question really, but it was complicated for Sirius to answer. Hermione knew that he wanted her dead; for all she had done to him and to Regulus. But could he really wish that she had died instead. Was there a small part of him that still loved his mother?

That question and the one she had vocalized were both answered by his next words. "She'll live. A pity. Now how does this vow work? You said its not an unbreakable?"

"No. I invented it. Its binding and will stunt your magic if its broken, but it won't kill you." That seemed to be all Sirius needed, as he sat cross-legged in front of her. Holding out his forearm with her wand clutched in his outstretched hand, she grabbed her wand and placed her own hand near his elbow, locking their arms together. The same faint yellow glow wrapped itself three times around their skin, shimmering against the tattoos that painted his skin.

"I, Hermione Granger, do swear that I will hold the reveal my secrets to Sirius Black, on the condition that he may not use this information to attempt to affect change or share this information with anyone who does not already know it." Hermione's voice was steady as she spoke. Sirius's answer to her was self-explanatory, so she watched as the animagus spoke intently and directly.

"I, Sirius Black, do swear to receive the secrets revealed by Hermione Granger, and accept the condition that I may not use this information to affect change or share this information with anyone who does not already know it." When he was done speaking, the light burned so bright that she had to look away, and break the eye contact they'd had. Her skin ache dully where the spell had constricted, but she pulled her arm away.

"Alright witch. You have your vow, now tell me everything."


It took twice as long to explain her story to Sirius as it did with Lucius. Hermione found herself telling him things that she hadn't told Regulus or Remus. How she had cried herself to sleep every night for months after she arrived in the past. How she kept a picture of her parents hidden away in her bag that she couldn't bear to look at. How she had visited Hermione Granger in hospital in the maternity wing. She was so tiny, and Richard and Helen Granger were overjoyed to have her. Every little crack that the past had put in her armour, every chink in her otherwise sturdy defenses.

Sirius didn't speak the whole time, not even to ask questions as Lucius had. It was like she was 16 again. They both used to wake up in the middle of the night and sneak some ice cream in the kitchen and talk about the things that were really bothering them. He used to tell her his horror stories about Azkaban, how Padfoot kept him sane. She would tell him of the nightmares she had about the moment she realized Cedric was dead…how easy it would have been for it to be Harry's body lying there instead.

This was so similar to that, and Hermione found herself feeling foolish again, just as she had when her schoolgirl crush on Harry's handsome Godfather had first begun.

When she was done with her tale, caught up to the most recent activity of having successfully convinced Lucius to help her cause, she waited for his response. Sirius was stoic as he processed all she had told him. The one thing that she hadn't said, was likely the most important thing to share.

"There is…I…fuck." Hermione hissed between pursed lips. She needed to tell him everything, no matter how horrid her decisions were. There was no regret in her; she didn't have the strength or time to regret what she'd done. "I've altered a memory…of us. You were…Merlin you were getting too close and I can't fail my task Sirius. I can't fail him." Tears threatened to spill out as she bit her lip to avoid it. The sleeve of her jumper ran under her eyes as it had done many times throughout this story, rubbing away the weakness.

"You've altered my memory?" The betrayal was the first thing she heard in his voice, and it cut into her like a sharp knife. "What…" He cleared his throat, looking away from her and seemingly staring at a frayed piece of thread on the Persian rug they sat on. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I don't care."

"Sirius you have to understand…" Hermione's voice was pleading but cut off by a suddenly furious wizard.

"No. I do not have to understand. Coming through time is dangerous enough, I get that. I get why you had to keep it a secret from me, but to take my memory? That's crosses so many lines that I don't even know where to fucking begin." His nostrils flared as he scrambled to his feet, pacing the length of the room at such a speed Hermione briefly wondered if the friction from his feet alone might set it alight.

She didn't respond to him, mainly because he was right. Looking through someone's mind was such an intimate act and doing so without permission or consent is an assault. Hermione's head hung in her hands as she waited for him to scream.

"I can forgive you for your lies and your secrets. But I can't…I can't forgive you for this. I thought I might even…and you betray me like this?" She'd seen Sirius angry, seen him face down Death Eaters, murderers, his demented family…and she had never seen his eyes like this. It was his bitter disappointment that hurt her the most of all. "Keep Reggie safe. Whatever it is that comes." Grabbing his leather jacket from where he'd left it on the arm of the chair that his mother had been sitting in, he began to leave.

"Sirius wait…" Her voice escaped her throat before she'd even really processed it.

The wizard turned back towards her for only a moment, the hurt plain on his face. Hermione ran back to the study, grabbing her beaded bag from where she had deposited it. Fumbling and searching, a moment later she pulled out a glass phial filled with a glowing light blue liquid.

When she walked back to the sitting room, she was somewhat surprised to see the man was still there.

"Here. Its yours anyway." Hermione placed the phial in his rough hands, longing for when his touch used to make her feel warm. Now all she felt was cold.

As if at a loss for words, Sirius merely grunted, wrapping his fingers around the glass and shoving it into his pocket. "Goodbye."

He didn't look back.


When Regulus finally came down the stairs of Grimmauld Place, each one creaking as his foot fell on it, Hermione was sitting in the armchair that had been Sirius's favorite. Her large brown eyes seemed to stare at a fixed point where the dowdy wallpaper was peeling from the wall near the fireplace. There was an emptiness to her gaze that reminded him of the detached way Sirius used to wander the halls of the house like he was haunting it. The utter devastation wasn't obvious. It was apparent in little ways; like the way her eyebrows drooped in towards the sad downturn of her smile.

"What happened? Where's Sirius?" It had been obvious to Regulus by now. His brother had always gotten everything that he'd ever wanted, Hermione had just been another case. But seeing the broken shell of the passionate and talented witch he'd come to know in the months since she'd fallen out of the sky infuriated him.

"Gone. I…I told him everything." Hermione's voice was small as she spoke, barely crossing the void between them. Regulus slowed his approach, taken aback by the shock of this news. She had always argued that Sirius was a liability…too volatile to be trusted with this information. What changed?

The wizard straightened his collar, suddenly finding himself angry at her distress. Then his anger dissipated into guilt as Regulus realized that he had been the one to bring Sirius to her in the first place. "I'm sorry. I thought he could help you…more than I could." Bitterness laced his voice so thickly that Hermione nearly laughed at the irony. The Black Brothers truly never stopped surprising her.

"It was smart of you." Hermione stood then, patting down the skirt of her dress to smooth it. "Walburga?" It was less of a question and more of a command to tell her what had happened once her attack had started.

"Resting. I cast a memory charm. Not the smoothest magic, but not bad for a first time. As long as she never sees you as Jolene again, I think that she won't recognize you or remember what happened." She nodded tightly at him, rubbing her hands together as she often did when she was thinking. It was a nervous habit Ron and Harry had teased her for relentlessly.

"It won't matter in three weeks' time anyway." Hermione reminded him. It was so close now that she knew that there was no more time to waste. Lucius would be delivering her the diary soon and she already had the diadem; the ring was tucked safely in the gaunt shack, and the cup was presumably in the Lestrange vault. The locket was the only missing puzzle piece.

"Are you ready?" The way her voice trembled as she looked at him caught him off-guard again. She had never been so vulnerable, even in her most panicked moments. The wear and tear of this life was clearly getting to her.

"To die?" Regulus laughed darkly to himself, curling the corners of his lips up into a sadistic smirk. "I've been prepared to die every waking moment since getting this mark on my arm…and some of the sleeping ones as well. Besides. I'm not going to actually die…" He paused for a moment, the laugh sticking in his throat like he was choking. "Right?"

Hermione was reminded then of just how young he was. He hadn't even living and he was so ready to die; it was too similar to Harry in the last days of the war.

"You won't die. I won't let you. You'll need to go into hiding afterwards though…until he's finally gone." They had never discussed the after, mostly because talking about his death in the future was not something he ever seemed interested in.

"I…I don't want to die. Just promise me I'll be alright." His voice cracked under the weight of the thing they'd been dancing around since she'd arrived. Regulus was afraid to die. There was permanence to death that hung over the air around it. No matter how prepared someone thinks they are to go, facing mortality is still so difficult. Hermione crossed the short space between them and gingerly wrapped herself around the tall man. She tried to instill in him confidence and strength, but they both knew that she couldn't make that promise.