Dumbledore's words echoed as she dashed through the castle without a destination in mind. She struggled to keep her tears at bay, until she could find herself far from the prying eyes of her new classmates.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I have been unable to find any way to send you back to your time." His blue eyes lacked their usual twinkle behind his half-moon glasses as he delivered the news. "It would be best for you to commit yourself to a life here in 1976."
Although she'd been expecting this answer from the Headmaster, after all even in 1997 a time-turner that moved forward in time had not yet been discovered, it didn't stop the complete desolation that rolled through her. Finding herself finally – blessedly – alone, she collapsed to the stone floor, scraping her knees in the process, and released the torrent of tears. Her small frame shook as she mourned the life that magic was forcing her to leave behind. For her parents. For Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, her surrogate family. And most of all, for Harry, her brother in all but blood. Who would watch out for him, without her by his side?
She wrapped her arms around her body, squeezing tightly in an attempt to keep herself from falling apart. Her stomach rolled as she rocked; all methods of self-calming she'd learned in her years at Harry Potter's side failing her in that moment. Time passed, obvious through the change in light streaming through the windows in the abandoned corridor, and still she sat.
Footsteps reverberated down the hallway toward her hiding place. Since classes hadn't been held in this section since the 1950s, Hermione knew it had to be someone looking for her. Wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks, she climbed to her feet.
Sirius Black rounded the corner, tucking a large piece of parchment into his bag as he did so. How could she have forgotten that infernal map? She shook her head at her lapse.
"Granger," he began smoothly. "You missed dinner and I...we were worried. Would you like an escort to the kitchens?" He glanced up then, his grey eyes gleaming in the shadowed hall, until he caught sight of her face. "What's wrong?" he asked, rushing to her side, hand resting on his wand in his pocket. "Was it Slytherins? Snivellus?"
Hermione shook her head, brown curls bouncing lively, even though she felt anything but. "No. I'm not hungry." The thought of eating made her stomach roll again. "And no Slytherins. No Snape," she continued, giving him a slight glare at his moniker for their dour classmate. "I just received some not-so-good news from the Headmaster and I needed some time to... um...deal. Now, I'm just tired."
Sirius threw his arm over her shoulder, giving her a slightly awkward half-hug, cheeks pinking. "What's happened?" he asked as he started to lead her toward Gryffindor tower. "And what can the Marauders do to help?"
Hermione frowned. "It looks like I won't be able to go home after all," she mumbled. Her eyes were on her feet as they walked, and she missed the slow smile that spread over his face, before he caught sight of the grief on her own and smothered it.
"When we graduate, James or I can assist you in getting home," he said, grimacing at the thought. "Or perhaps James' dad," he added. "It doesn't seem right that you can't."
"Perhaps," Hermione replied quietly, knowing that would never happen. Of course, the Marauders didn't know that home was 1997 and not Australia as she had originally told them.
Once past the Fat Lady, Sirius directed her to the stairs that led to the girl's dormitory. He grabbed her hand before she could head up and pulled her back to him. Glancing over to where his friends usually gathered in the common room, he blew out a long breath, before meeting her eyes.
"I know you're sad that you're unable to leave, but right now I can't be." His cheeks flushed a darker pink and he licked his lips. "I like you, Hermione Granger. And I am struggling not to be glad that you are staying here in Britian." He leaned down, hesitating a moment in case she wanted him to stop, before he brushed his lips softly against hers. He pulled back, grey eyes meeting brown. "I'm quickly losing that battle."
Colour bloomed on her cheeks. Eighteen-year-old, pre-Azkaban Sirius was fitter than the man she knew in her fourth year, and that man had been pretty dang fit.
"Good night, Granger," he whispered, placing another kiss on her forehead before letting go of her hands so she could ascend.
"Good night, Sirius," she whispered back, then turned and ran up the stairs.
Back in her room, behind her curtains, Hermione resolved herself to take Professor Dumbledore's words to heart. Even if she was stranded in time, she could carve out a life here with Sirius and Remus, and even James and Lily. War was coming. She knew that better than anyone, but if she couldn't protect Harry at his side, she would protect his parents instead.