Chapter 2: Stranger in a Not-So-Strange Land
"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."
"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."
— Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling
"What the fuck!" a voice yelled from the direction of the doors leading to the Entrance Hall. Oh no, no, no, why did I have to appear in front of someone? I know the rules of time travel, and this was definitely breaking… well, essentially all of them.
I groaned again, both in exasperation and pain. My vision swam as another wave of nausea washed over me, and I knew I must have lost a good bit of blood. I would likely pass out any moment.
Well, if I've already fucked it up, I might as well fuck it up properly and get myself some help.
"Help… please…" I gasped out. The unknown wizard rushed to me from the double doors, his trainers squeaking lightly against the stone floor as he ran across the Great Hall.
"Are you alright? Fucking hell, what happened to you?" A concerned face loomed over me.
A face that looked very, very familiar. My eyes widened in recognition.
I closed them quickly.
No…
"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered under his breath. "What the hell happened to you? I've got to get you to Madam Pomfrey, okay? Can you walk? No wait, never mind, of course you can't. Stupid question. I'll carry you. Thank Merlin it's a full moon and I was out wit—well anyway, there's hardly anyone is in the castle right now, seeing as it's summer. Who knows how long it would've taken for someone to find you…" His rambling died away as he bent down and scooped me up with strong arms.
I couldn't even attempt to protest. It was taking all of my remaining strength just to retain consciousness. He held me securely against his chest as he walked out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase toward the hospital wing. My eyes were still closed tightly, but I breathed in slowly through my broken nose, ignoring the throbbing pain and letting the smell of him fill my nostrils.
An earthy musk, with a lingering of well-worn leather and cigarette smoke.
It was like a long forgotten memory, familiar and comforting.
My mind flashed back to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
12 January 1996
It was a little past midnight as I sat at the table in the dusty kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, my old dressing gown pulled tightly around me, and a cup of strong tea warming my hands.
"I'm really sorry to bother you, Sirius. You didn't have to stay. I just…" I looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I just couldn't sleep. We're returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, and with everything that's going on…" my thought trailed away and I picked at a scorch mark on the old wooden table. Fred and George, perhaps?
Sirius laughed his usual barking laugh, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey.
"It's fine, Hermione," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "If there's anyone in this house that understands not being able to sleep, it's me. Do you want to talk about it?" and to my surprise, he leaned forward slightly from his seat at the head of the table, as if to tell me he was listening attentively.
I bit my lip, thinking.
"No… I mean, well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. It's nothing new, really. It's just that I'm worried about Harry. Things are becoming quite serious, aren't they? With Umbridge and the Ministry, Voldemort… and these dreams Harry's been having… I just have this feeling—this visceral gut sensation—that something bad is going to happen soon. And I, well… I can't bear to lose Harry, Sirius."
I took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to steady my voice. "He's my brother. He's essentially the only family I have. My parents are Muggles, you know, and they just don't understand. Harry and Ron—they're all I have. I can't lose either of them. I would do anything for them both, anything to save them both, but I just don't know how to help Harry. There's always a way, always a solution, but right now, I just can't think of anything I can do."
I ducked my head to hide the ridiculous tears beginning to form, and took a sip of my tea.
It burnt my tongue.
I looked up and searched his eyes. Not quite gray, but not quite blue, either.
Definitely more of a silver.
He was silent for a moment, but his eyes held something peculiar behind them. It wasn't the pity I had expected to find there, a look I'd become accustomed to recently. A look that said quite plainly that I am a child and I couldn't possibly understand the world.
No, it was as if he completely understood what I meant. Because he had felt it too.
"Hermione, sometimes, there is no solution."
I raised my eyebrows at him.
Bloody good advice, Sirius.
He continued. "I know how it feels to think you have no family. My parents disowned me when I was just a teenager. Even before then, I was an outcast in my own home. I mean, look at this place." He waved his hands about, motioning to the surrounding kitchen, and I knew what he meant.
Look at how dark and absolutely batshit my family was.
"I ran away when I was sixteen. My parents wanted something from me that I couldn't give them—something I refused to give them—and I'd had enough. But that was the day I realized I did have a family. I had James and Remus, and at the time, even the fucking rat Peter," he stopped, looking a little sheepish at his strong language. "Sorry about that."
I smiled and shook my head, giving him a look that clearly said for him to continue.
"James and his family took me in, no questions asked. Dorea and Charlus had become far better parents to me than my own, ever since the summer after my first year of Hogwarts. James was my brother in all but blood."
He breathed in deeply and took another sip of his Ogden's Finest.
"And then after Hogwarts, when the First War was raging—" He scuffed his hand over his face, as if trying to find the right words. "Members of The Order, our friends, family, were dying every day. My greatest fear was that something would happen to James or Lily, and I wouldn't be there to help. Distrust was rampant, and we knew there was a spy within The Order." He tensed slightly and his eyes darkened. "I was convinced it was Remus. Looking back, I can't believe I trusted fucking Wormtail more than Remus…" His voice died away as he stared down pensively into the now empty glass in front of him.
He poured another.
"Want a bit, Hermione?" he asked, holding up the bottle and gesturing to my empty cup of tea.
I bit my lip again. What would Mrs. Weasley say if she saw?
I held back a smile. Ah, fuck it.
"Oh, why not? Just a little, though."
He poured some of the amber liquid into my teacup and I took a small sip. It burned slightly as it slid down my throat, but overall it was much more smooth going down than I expected. It felt pleasantly warm as it settled in my stomach.
Much better than Butterbeer, in my opinion.
I took a larger sip.
"But, all of that rambling was to say this: keep your friends close to you. My past haunts me every day, but there's no going back and changing it. But I can help to make sure we don't make the same mistakes in the future. I can't leave this godforsaken house, so I can't be there for Harry like I need to be. But you can. And bad things will happen. Horrible things. That's the inevitable truth of the fucked up world we're living in right now. But Hermione, just make sure that when they do, you and Ron are standing right next to Harry, ready meet whatever comes."
He sighed again and drained his glass. "Well, I think we both need sleep, don't you? Remus and Tonks are taking you lot back to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus pretty early in the morning."
I gulped down the last bit Firewhiskey remaining in my cup as he stood. I was surprised to see how steady he was—the bottle of Ogden's was almost completely empty. He held out his hand to help me to my feet, and I took it.
"Thank you, Sirius. This really has helped. More than you know."
I meant it.
As I let go of his hand, I hesitated for a moment, then reached forward and wrapped my arms around his middle in a tight hug. He was still alarmingly thin from his time in Azkaban and his subsequent two years on the run.
This man slept in cave, living off rats, all so he could be close to Harry.
So he could protect Harry.
In that moment, I vowed to do the same. No matter what the cost may be.
He seemed startled, but quickly embraced me in return. My nose was buried in his tee shirt, and I breathed in.
An earthy musk. Leather. Cigarettes.
Like my first taste of Firewhiskey, it was much more pleasant than I would have expected.
"It'll be okay, Hermione," he said quietly as I released him.
I murmured my thanks as I left the kitchen. As I made my way up the dark stairwell to the room Ginny and I shared, a thought crossed my mind.
I hope Harry knows just how lucky he is to have a godfather like Sirius Black.
Date Unknown
It was a scent I hadn't encountered in almost two fucking years.
My stomach churned again.
I mustered up what little energy I had left and turned my head to look up into the face of my savior, knowing what I would see, but hardly daring to believe it. My eyes met his, and beautiful, silvery blue stared down at me. I quickly buried my head back into his chest, not caring that I was drenching his shirt with my blood.
No. It can't be him. Impossible.
How far back have I traveled?
Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to be sick again.
He pulled me tighter against his chest and continued walking. "Who are you?" he murmured into my hair. "Who did this to you?"
I took a deep breath, gathering my best Gryffindor courage and slowly turned my head back to him, examining his face closely. His hair was just as shaggy as I had known, perhaps a bit shorter, but—his face. His face was beautiful, with high, sculpted cheekbones that screamed to the world he was indeed a Black, and long, dark eyelashes that would make Lavender Brown sick with envy. He had a bruise forming on his right cheek, and his bottom lip was split. But something was very different.
His face was missing the hardness Azkaban had left upon it.
I was currently in the arms of a younger Sirius Black.
A much younger Sirius Black.
How bloody far back did I travel?
The question escaped my lips before I could bite it back.
"What's the date?" I rasped, throat unbearably raw.
He looked down at me with a curious expression on his face. "Er, I'm pretty sure it's almost 5:00 AM now, so today is August 29th."
"And the year?"
His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "1977, obviously."
…1977?
Oh.
"Fuck," I breathed.
And then all I knew was black.
(A/N:) Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at fanfiction, and I'll be the first to admit, I'm not a writer whatsoever. This is mainly just for kicks, and to see if I can incorporate all of the aspects I personally look for in a Sirius/Hermione fic.
So let me know what you think so far, but please, don't be too harsh. Reviews would definitely help the process along. Anything you'd like to see? Anything you think I should avoid? Please let me know!
-liz
