Out of Time
By Rurouni Star
Chapter 6 - Whispers
"I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."
-Robert McCloskey
The game was very uncomfortable. Rain pelted the poor players, wind tossed their broomsticks around like twigs, and the occasional lightning strike made her very nervous indeed about their chances of survival. Harry in particular looked like he was having trouble – she could only tell it was him, of course, by his unique broom. She'd imagine with his glasses like that…
Glasses! Of course!
Hermione pushed her way through the wet crowd, pulling her cloak over her head (for all the good it did). "Harry!" she yelled, just as the team came down for their first time out. "Harry, stay still a moment!" He turned to look at her, confused, but she beamed and tapped his glasses with her wand (making him nearly cross his eyes trying to see what she was doing). "Impervious!" she said triumphantly. "They should repel water now, it'll be easier-"
"Brilliant!" Wood told her, looking ecstatic. "This'll improve our chances of getting out of here before dark!"
Dark being relative, Hermione thought wryly as they mounted their brooms again and took off into the wild storm. Harry was already looking much better, though, she noted, and it sent a proud shiver through her. Then… his hands slipped from his broom, and her brow knit. What was he doing, staring off into the distance like that-
"Look!"
"What's that, what's going on?"
"What is it?"
"Dementors!"
Hermione gasped, tearing her eyes from Harry for the moment to look at the field. At first she didn't see them – they seemed to blend in with the darkness, barely separate entities…
But then, she began to make out figures, gliding in deathly silence along the field. All noise from the stands had stopped – the players, all but one, were staring at them in fear. A soft roll of thunder barely broke the silence, murmuring in the darkness.
And then-
Harry was falling off his broom.
"No!" she yelled, but the cold had started to overcome her, and she couldn't breathe-
"HARRY! No! Get up, Harry, GET UP!"
He wasn't responding, and some part of her knew he never would. But she had broken away from Lupin's grip and was rushing toward him desperately, shaking him, screaming for him to wake up.
There was a hairline crack running down the lens of his glasses. His eyes were closed, mercifully… but a tiny trickle of blood had started running from his forehead, from the scar…
A shadow fell over her and she stared up into the clear, red eyes of the man they'd all worked so hard to keep away from him, the one that had started everything-
He was looking down at her, laughing in a cold, high pitched tone, bringing his wand to bear on her-
"Expelliarmus!"
And Lupin was grabbing her, pulling her away desperately, murmuring for her to stay together, just stay together for a few more minutes, while they ran-
"Hermione!" Ron was shaking her roughly, trying to get her to move. She felt something inside her crack as she opened her eyes and she saw- saw Harry, lying on the field, still as death-
"No!" she yelled, struggling to rise, to get to him. Ron didn't manage to hold her back like Lupin had – when had he? – and she made it closer to him, trying desperately to ignore the encroaching cold that engulfed her as she got closer to the hooded figures.
"Why didn't you protect him? Why weren't you there?"
"I couldn't have been there. I am… more sorry than you can know. This is partially my fault, Miss Granger."
"Shut up," she gritted between her teeth, but she knew tears were sliding down her face as she pushed the memories back.
Hermione fell to her knees in front of Harry, her hand moving to his neck, hoping to god- yes. Yes, there was a pulse.
"Ennervate," she whispered, touching her wand to his forehead. Harry groaned, trying to get up, but she held him down. "Don't," she warned him. "Not until you're sure nothing's broken."
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. "Hermione?"
The cold was getting closer.
Whispering. Whispering in her ear.
"It's a good thing you don't follow rules well, Miss Granger, isn't it?"
A wink. He was pressing something into her hand.
And-
The sickly green light.
"You're doing it too," Harry whispered.
She choked.
"What?" she asked.
He looked into her eyes with a desperate face. "You can hear them! The voices!"
"Sometimes," she heard herself whisper, and she knew she was staring into dead eyes, "Sometimes, I really hate you. You know that, don't you?"
She staggered, as though she'd just been hit. "Yes," she told him in a hoarse voice.
One of the dementors was moving toward them, breaking away from the others – its cowled figure seemed drawn to them, pulled by something she couldn't name.
"There are some things worth dying for, Miss Granger."
"I know."
It reached down with a hand, toward her- she gasped as her mind fluttered, like a trapped insect in a shrinking box…
A pure white light blinded her, then, and she wondered if she'd lost her soul.
But no – Harry was still grasping her hand in fear, staring at the Dementor –
Which was no longer there.
Dumbledore stood in front of them, a cold light burning in his eyes. "Miss Granger, would you and Mr. Potter please go up to the hospital wing?"
She didn't argue. Not a bit.
But as they leant on each other, stumbling off the field, Harry cast a haggard look at her that promised he would be asking about this later.
-----
"Chocolate, now, open up! Goodness, you two look like you've been sucked dry by a vampire-"
Hermione sighed and let her head fall with a thud! into Harry's shoulder.
She felt her chin being lifted up, and Madam Pomfrey stuffed a large chunk of chocolate into her mouth. Hermione chewed with difficulty and swallowed before being hustled into bed.
They had visitors, of course, and the awful truth of Harry's broomstick came to light – it had been blown into the Whomping Willow and smashed to bits. Not only this, but Cedric Diggory, the other team's seeker, had caught the snitch before realizing the game had been interrupted.
"Harry," she said quietly, after the lights had gone out that night, "I don't really understand what happened out there. I've never been affected by them like that before."
He looked at her from the next bed over, his glasses glinting in the faint starlight that shone through the windows. "Maybe it was because there were more of them…" He hesitated. "What did you hear, Hermione?"
She swallowed, and felt an awful dread seize her. What was she supposed to tell him? She'd seen him die.
"If- if you don't want to say, that's fine too," he told her anxiously.
A thought hit her. He knows some secrets can't be told.
Hermione bit her lip to stifle the tiny sob of relief that had been threatening to come out.
Harry stiffened in his bed, and she quickly swallowed it. "Thank you," she told him. "Thank you."
He shifted uncomfortably, and she cursed herself. "It's just – you can't know how much that means. If I could, I swear, I would, but-"
"I know," he said again, the second time that day. "I know, Hermione. And-" Harry hesitated. "There's some things I haven't told you either, to be fair."
Somehow, inexplicably, this made her warm inside. Friends were supposed to share secrets, not mutually keep them, but-
It was amazing, having someone that understood her enough to hold a friendship under that kind of pressure.
"Oh, I suppose everything will come out at the end of the year like it always does," she muttered good-naturedly. "But you will trust me if… if things come to the worst, won't you?"
Harry sighed. "Of course I will, Hermione."
The thought of Harry's betrayed face if he ever found out… Hermione found herself suddenly fervently hoping he was telling the truth.
-----
Creak of a door…
Padding footsteps.
Someone by her ear, whispering…
"You're alive… thank god… I couldn't do anything, the dementors-" The voice broke off with a shudder. A hand on her forehead, brushing back her hair. "Thank god."
Hermione muttered something tiredly, and reached out- someone caught her hand, sighing. "You two scared me silly…"
She woke up with a yawn, trying to think-
Then bolted upright immediately. Had Sirius- no! He wouldn't have done something so stupid… would he?
Hermione rushed from the room, panicked, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's reproving glare and her tuts about how she wanted to keep her longer ("I'm feeling loads better, I swear!").
She managed to get to the wall, slid herself in-
He was sitting in the chair, white and shaking, head in his hands. Hermione swallowed hard and hurried over to him.
"Sirius?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
He looked up at her with surprise and relief written on his face, but she could see that his eyes were the same as when she'd first met him. "Yes. Yes, I'm – I'll be fine," he told her. "What about you? What happened out there?"
"I-" she started to respond – then gasped. "You were there!"
"Yes, of course I was," he told her. "You didn't think I'd miss seeing Harry fly, did you?"
Hermione felt the blood rush out of her face- "What if you were seen?" she whispered. "You would've died- no, you would've lost your soul!" She sat down heavily. "Do you have- have any idea-"
"I went as a dog," he told her with a sharp laugh. "You didn't think I'd just walk out there as is?"
She froze – then shook her head. "It was still really dangerous," she told him. "If Professor Lupin had seen you…"
"Then I wouldn't be here now," he shrugged, still white-faced.
It occurred to her then that by being at the stadium he'd also been subject to the dementors. That for him it would be much worse…
Hermione frowned and reached into her pocket, fishing out the half a chocolate bar Madam Pomfrey had given her. "Here, eat this," she told him.
He blinked, but took it from her hand. "Chocolate?" he asked.
"Yes, chocolate," she told him. "It helps."
Sirius took a bite – his pallor didn't disappear, but his skin tone did become decidedly better. He shuddered a bit, and she tried to think of a nice, cheerful thing to do to give him back his good memories.
"Harry's very good, isn't he?" Hermione said on inspiration.
The other man smiled, and she could immediately see the difference. "Yes, he is. He could've given James a run for his money, for all that he's a Seeker…" Sirius' face turned dark, though, and she inwardly sighed. His happiest memories were inexorably tied to his worst ones. She couldn't imagine living like that…
"I never would have- not that," he whispered. "They're mad to think I would. I loved him like a brother."
Hermione watched as his eyes stared into something that she couldn't see. Perhaps a shade, perhaps a memory of someone he'd once known…
"I know you wouldn't have," she said quietly. And, strangely, she did. Beyond all doubt. Sirius Black had been ready to commit murder when he went after Peter Pettigrew, but he was not capable of the treacherous act it would have taken to doom Lily and James Potter.
She realized a moment later that he was looking at her strangely. "You do?" he asked.
Hermione shifted uneasily. "Yes," she said.
She had to trust herself, at the very least – otherwise, who could she trust? Not to mention the intellectual embarrassment of being given the chance to change something and not doing it.
There was the cusp of it. Could she change anything? All wizards who tried were supposed to have died horrible deaths or some such thing. But she wasn't trying to change anything, per se, it was – well, her – but her future self- and no one ever said if those wizards had managed to change anything before they died, and even if they had, who would know? If her future self was willing to risk it, and if she decided to trust herself (damn it, foregone point!) then she had to change something.
Hermione sighed.
Her head hurt.
"You look like you're doing some hard thinking," Sirius told her, sounding slightly amused.
She shot him a dirty look. "Arithmancy," she said shortly. He seemed to take this as a likely explanation.
"Never took it," he told her. "But your homework was bloody difficult."
Hermione blinked. "How did you do it if you've never taken Arithmancy?" she demanded. "You didn't guess? Oh lord, I've tried telling Harry and Ron, Arithmancy is so much more precise than Divination, you can't just make things up-"
"I read through your textbook," he said offhandedly. "It is the beginning text, you know."
Hermione groaned. Arithmancy had given even her a bit of trouble early on. It was not likely that she'd be getting a good grade on that paper… oh well. It was the price paid for having help, and she quite clearly remembered the light-headed giddiness that had accompanied her first afternoon with no homework.
"Thanks anyway," she managed. "That was very thoughtful of you, learning a whole new subject."
Sirius chuckled. "I haven't been able to intellectually pursue anything for the past twelve years. It was oddly refreshing, considering I've always hated math."
Rrk. Yet another blow to her confidence in her upcoming grade. Think happy thoughts, Hermione.
She sighed again. "I think I'd better get started on my Dark Arts homework. Working on Hinkypunks now…"
"Ah," he said, "Nasty things, those."
"You don't know the half of it," she muttered, pulling out her book. "Professor Lupin's actually brought one in – we're going to have a practical on it."
Sirius looked faintly surprised by this news, but smirked all the same. "Just one rule, then, really – don't follow the light."
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned the page.