Out of Time
By Rurouni Star
My friend Miranda wishes it to be known that she was the inspiration for Hermione's hazily insistent apology. However, I am not allowed to discuss the incident this came from as I was told very pointedly that it never happened, so no one will ever know why.
Chapter 14 – Looking Back
"... we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."
-Paul Bowles
Someone had put a cool cloth on her forehead – Hermione knew this not because she could feel anything at all, but because her hair seemed wet where it was being smoothed back.
"Where-" she croaked.
"Shh," came Sirius' slightly amused and slightly concerned voice. "I'm not really supposed to be here."
She wanted to get up and tell him to leave immediately, before someone saw him, but truthfully her limbs felt leaden, and she felt somehow that she would tremble uncontrollably if she actually tried to put them through any meaningful effort.
So instead, she closed her eyes and smiled faintly at his comforting ministrations. "Where were you?" she asked tiredly, feeling a heavy burden on her soul lift as she realized for the first time that he was back and safe and perfectly fine.
"I was still in the castle," he said ruefully. "I just… didn't want you to get in trouble. You'd already done so much on my behalf… I rather hoped Pettigrew might think I'd left as well, and follow me before I could give him away or some such silly thing. He'd begun to suspect you, I think."
Hermione frowned slightly. "I don't understand… what happened? Why was I the first to get to the willow, I'm supposed to have seen Professor Lupin there first…it was in with the other vision, you know about it, don't you?"
She couldn't see him – couldn't manage the effort to open her eyelids – but she somehow knew he was frowning deeply. "Well I'd guess you've just had your first experience with self-fulfilling prophecies. It's just a guess, mind you – but I would surmise that dear old Wormtail" he spoke the name acidly, "-was hiding out in the shack. Moony will have seen you enter after him and followed." Hermione winced at the sudden thought that Lupin would definitely be asking for an explanation soon.
"Don't worry," Sirius told her in a strangely protective voice. "Dumbledore and I will get it straightened out with him. You won't have to say a word."
Hermione heaved a heavy breath. "Pettigrew is going to resurrect V- Voldemort," she managed. "Don't you know that?"
Sirius was frowning again, his hand still at her forehead. "I knew it before I came to find you," he said quietly. "But there was nothing any of us could have done anyway. He had his escape plan figured out long ago – probably had a little rat hole all ready and everything."
Hermione checked her surprise at this and tried desperately to relax her muscles so that they would stop their infernal twitches. "I wish I could've gotten a spell off at him," she murmured. "I would've used that body twisting spell…"
Sirius chuckled. "I don't doubt it." But then, his hand moved to grasp hers tightly, and he moved to look down at her. "You're not going after him," he said seriously. "Peter Pettigrew is my problem. He always has been. I don't want- I don't want to find you in a worse condition next time."
She shuddered as she thought of the threats he'd made… "You heard the – ah – disembowelment part?" she asked in a small voice.
A growl escaped his throat, reminding her of a certain heavy-set black dog. "No," he said in a low voice filled with fury. "I'll disembowel him-"
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "If I'd thought there were any other way- I hadn't told Dumbledore yet, you see, so I couldn't- um, that is-"
"I know all about the timeturner," Sirius said shortly, tiredly. "How else do you think you kept waking up before class?"
Hermione felt her face tint pink. "You- you didn't! That's completely against the rules-"
"Yes, well, I'm sort of an escaped prisoner. I don't think the rules apply to me in the usual sense. Besides, you weren't going to be doing anyone good running yourself absolutely ragged."
"Is that the official excuse?" she asked, bemused.
"Certainly," he said. "If McGonnagal somehow finds out, you can tell her that her favorite ex-student made it up."
Hermione smiled gently. She wasn't feeling particularly good at the moment, but at the same time she found herself wishing time could stop, just like this. She was strangely happy, where she was.
"Thank you," she told him, meaning it in every way possible.
And then, in a gesture of friendship she found completely surprising, Sirius Black pressed his lips to her forehead. "Think nothing of it," he said. Then- "What would I do without my little brainy fourth year, anyway?"
Hermione opened her eyes at this, and found herself momentarily caught by his mischievously sparkling grey eyes. "What do you mean, fourth year?" she asked.
Sirius grinned. "You are coming back next year, I should hope. I'm going to need you to sneak food to me during the times I'm here."
She felt an inexplicable surge of happiness at this. "Of course," she breathed.
"Come down and visit me before exams," he told her with a wink. "We'll be completely irresponsible and stay up late the night before, drinking butterbeer."
Hermione giggled, feeling absolutely childish. "You mean you'll drink butterbeer and I'll study."
He shrugged. "As long as it's one of us, it shouldn't matter all that much. Now get some sleep – you're going to have to pop on back in time in the morning, because Harry and Ron will be utterly beside themselves otherwise."
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not that tired-"
"Mitte," he murmured, tapping her forehead with his wand.
Hermione felt her consciousness receding. "Unfair," she accused vaguely as she fell into sleep…
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"Hermione, what's going on?"
She walked calmly up to Ron and smiled.
"False alarm," Hermione said brightly, tucking her timeturner into her shirt unobtrusively.
"Oh come on, Hermione, don't you want to do anything but read?"
"No," she muttered to herself, slightly irritated at the voice but determined to ignore it until it told her something important again.
"But you- you were-"
"Harry," she said quietly, passing him by. "This is, um, one of those things we talked about. The ones where you don't ask me and I don't lie."
He looked at her grimly, but nodded.
"Wait, what are you-"
"Let's go get some food from the kitchens, Ron," Harry interrupted with a suddenly energetic demeanor. "I know just the way, too…"
Hermione went up to her dormitory, looking out the window toward the Whomping Willow and waiting, a sick kind of fascination taking her as she saw her cat sitting calmly in front of the tree. For a moment, she thought he looked up at her interestedly – she nodded back glumly, but he was now ignoring her.
Nothing happened for quite a while. She began to wonder if, by some maniacal twist, the other Hermione would not come bursting out of the castle, trying to get to the tree and stop a horrible incident from happening, only to make it happen herself. Wouldn't that be interesting-
But no. There she was, moving furtively, stopping in front of a tense Crookshanks. The cat was darting forward to hit the knot in the tree now – from here it didn't look nearly as bad, she could tell he had enough practice that it was ridiculously easy – and now there she was, slipping downward and-
And looking up at herself in confusion.
And being swallowed up by the tree.
Hermione blinked once, shaking her head and rubbing at her temples. So strange, the complexities of time. She really wanted to believe that she was changing things – that this really hadn't happened at all before – but she couldn't know. She really couldn't.
She was still shaking slightly, but she wasn't certain of the cause. It could have been her exposure to the Cruciatus. But it could have just as easily been the strange happiness, just lying there and feeling the strangest feeling – that she was cared about, that someone had her well-being not only in mind, but also as a top priority. She wasn't used to it, would never be, no matter how many times Harry or Ron or Sirius reinforced it.
A moving figure caught her eye then – Lupin, striding determinedly across the grounds, wand out and ready. Crookshanks was leading him.
What?
But then it made sense, and she almost ran down to the bottom floor to scoop up her cat and hug it tightly to her chest. Crookshanks had somehow known to go and get help, just as he knew she was going in to kill the rat-wizard he had been chasing for so long.
Hermione decided she would never, ever get an owl. She loved her cat too much. Crookshanks was getting an extra bowl of cream when he got back.
She almost left the window then, but remembered belatedly that Sirius was still to come. She owed it to him to watch, to understand…
It took less time than she remembered. Possibly because she'd been being tortured during that time.
A figure was dashing toward the tree from the entryway of the castle, note clutched in his hand. Hermione winced as she realized he was in human form, the cloak billowing out behind him and doing almost nothing to obscure him. A branch of the willow caught him across the shoulder as he leapt toward it and she hissed in her breath. He hadn't mentioned that-
But Sirius Black was slipping in as well, going in after her.
She bit her lip, knowing that somewhere, a long way away in Hogsmeade, there was screaming coming from the Shrieking Shack.
It seemed she waited an eternity this time, longer than she'd waited for anything else. What if something went wrong this time (impossible, but oh-so-possible to a panicked mind) or what if someone else got hurt while Peter tried to escape?
Peter! I could stop him- we never saw as he escaped-
But just as she was wondering whether she ought to go down and catch him (stupid, she would later reflect to herself) a tiny shape darted out from the tree, running full tilt across the moonlit grass and disappearing from view… into the Forbidden Forest.
Hermione gritted her teeth and wished time travel were more black and white. Fix the bad stuff, keep the good. But no, it would never be like that.
And now – now there was a figure climbing out from beneath the tree, one foot holding down the knot that incapacitated it. Hermione watched in surprise as she saw herself, thrown over Sirius' shoulder – had she really looked that awful? – pale and shaking and now unconscious.
She couldn't hear anything from the window, but she could see very well Sirius' panic. He was letting her to the ground gently, shaking her, trying to get her to talk to him. Hermione felt a strangely forbidden impulse to eavesdrop take her – he wouldn't be thinking about protective wards at the moment, she could very easily cast the spell-
Before the decent part of her could kick in, Hermione performed the charm. Almost immediately, a hoarse, pleading voice reached her ears, and she recoiled.
"-Hermione, come on, say something, for the love of god-" He was burying his face in her hair, shoulders shaking- was he crying?- and Hermione felt sick at the thought that not only had she caused the situation, she was listening in on something painfully private. It was one thing to know that (almost) everything had turned out all right, but another thing entirely to relive it and see what it had cost.
She wanted so very desperately to tell him she was sorry. To apologize in any way she could. But he wasn't in any position for her to do so – the Sirius she wanted to tell was both the person outside and the person that had not yet come to be; the one that stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and promised to drink butterbeer with her before exams. And now, it made a kind of sense. He had probably been promising himself just then that he would do those things, if only she didn't die-
Like Harry. Exactly like Harry.
The vision of a blankly staring boy in large glasses had not left her for quite some time. At that moment, Hermione found she couldn't help but compare it to the scene before her.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, tears running down her cheeks, wishing irrationally that the man below could hear her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"
"M'sorry, Sirius," her own voice was saying hazily, and she stiffened – she didn't remember that, she'd thought she'd just blacked out the whole time…
He was trying to catch his breath, obviously relieved. "Don't talk, I'll get you up to Madam Pomfrey-" Sirius was reaching for the extended cloak, no hint of his distress coming through in his voice now.
"No, I'm sorry," she repeated emphatically in a trembling, almost drunken voice. "Sirius-"
"It's not important now," he told her sharply, his voice dangerously close to breaking. "We'll talk later, just be still." He threw the cloak over them both, and Hermione, at the window, put a shaking hand to her mouth. She stumbled backward and barely managed to cast the counter spell before making her way uncertainly to her bed, shaking as violently as she had been when he carried her back inside.
She wanted to sleep. She wanted to find oblivion and not think anything of this until morning, when she would be caught up and able to do something about it. The waiting scared her more than anything else.
But Hermione couldn't sleep, couldn't even close her eyes without seeing his concerned eyes looking down at her.
Lord, she'd really screwed up this time. Why hadn't she listened, when they said not to change anything? If she hadn't gone, Wormtail wouldn't have escaped, Remus wouldn't be hurt, Sirius wouldn't have- wouldn't have gone through all of that…
No, a strange part of her thought fiercely. I did what I thought was the right thing at the time, and I can't second-guess myself now. Why should I have left Professor Lupin to die, if I thought he would?
But still… Sirius' pained voice wouldn't leave her alone.
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Classes were incredibly hard to get through the next day. Hermione found herself aching in an almost physical way to go to Sirius in the hospital wing and get the apology off her chest; but it would hardly do to be in the same room with herself, especially as she'd already broken one time traveling law to great consequence.
She'd checked the time before she'd left, though – twelve thirty.
So it was that Hermione watched the second period Arithmancy clock desperately, one foot tapping unhappily against her desk as she chewed at her lip.
Noon.
Close but not there.
"…and so this equation, when used in conjunction with the First Theorem of Angle-Birthday Relationships, should tell you your coefficient. It's very important that this be correct, for reasons I shouldn't have to explain."
She barely felt the twinge of regret that she'd not heard her teacher; normally this would frighten her, but at the moment, all she could do was stare at the clock and worry.
Time passed agonizingly. Hermione licked her lips as the second hand ticked its way around the face of numbers… numbers, she was in Arithmancy, wasn't she? Yes, that seemed right.
"I'll be wanting you to thoroughly understand chapter twenty six for the test next time, so your homework is to study it. That's it for today – now off to lunch with you."
Lunch. Twelve thirty.
Hermione rose in a daze, turning to leave. A part of her had suddenly realized just what it was she was going to do, and quailed in fright even as her feet moved of their own accord.
She was going to truly face him for the first time since he'd saved her – there was no facing up to the consequences while she was half unconscious, and watching him from a window hardly counted as a conversation. But this time…
She found herself in front of the infirmary door, fingers curled into a loose fist, prepared to knock.
Hermione paused, swallowing, and sat down heavily right in front of it.
She set her head back against the door and put a hand to her forehead. She knew, she knew she couldn't do this. Going to her death had seemed easier by comparison. A shudder went through her, and she clutched at her knees, feeling her body huddle against the door…
"-something you're not telling me, something she told you, Dumbledore."
Hermione stifled a gasp of surprise at hearing Sirius' voice, putting her hand over her mouth. She knew instantly what he was talking about – the voices and the possibility of the stolen memories…
"Miss Granger is entitled to a few secrets, just as we all are, Mr. Black." Hermione could imagine his eyes twinkling in amusement as he spoke.
"If it's a secret that will hurt her is what I'm concerned about," Sirius ground out. "If she'd succeeded in keeping the timeturner from me, like she tried to do, we'd all be in much worse shape-"
"She was instructed to keep the timeturner a secret, as you know. Neither of her two friends know of it, nor will she tell them if I am any judge of character."
"Then this isn't a secret she's been told to keep," stated Sirius flatly.
"Not all secrets must be kept merely on others' behalf. She is a sensible girl – let me assure you that she will tell you should the need arise. Neither should you feel affronted that she has divulged this to me; it was needful in order to confirm your own innocence." Dumbledore paused. "I must ask you, however, not to pester the poor girl. She has already been through quite enough this year."
There was another pause, this time on both sides, before Sirius sighed. "Damn you. You would have to put me on a guilt trip, wouldn't you? You're just like that bastard Nigellus…"
Hermione felt her eyebrows raise at his language, but Sirius was either too tired to properly respect Dumbledore at this point, or he just didn't care.
She began to feel guilty about her intrusion, though – this wasn't something she was supposed to have overheard. Hermione ignored the rush of relief she felt as she decided she would have to come back down later and apologize… in the meantime, she thought vaguely that she might go to lunch for the first time in weeks.
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Lupin was not in class that day. It shouldn't have surprised her, but Hermione found that a tightening that had formed in her chest loosened as she saw Snape's coldly burning eyes behind the werewolf's desk.
She played with the timeturner absently as the class went on, wondering about its significance. She'd realized, of course, that it had much to do with the situation… but just how much was up for debate. If she got rid of it… would the voices stop?
"Hermione…" It was Sirius, in a warmly amused voice. "You mean to say you never did any of the stupid things Harry and Ron got up to? No alcohol at all?"
Hermione turned pink in indignance. He made it sound as though it were a bad thing.
Classes finished for the day, but she found that she really couldn't bring herself to go see him. Her head felt like it had been crammed full of information, of something at the very least, and had to sort itself out. So instead, she went to sleep.
And then…
"Mudblood! Filth! Desecrator of my house, get gone!"
Stumbling back, surprised, wide-eyed, frightened-
"Would you shut up?" Sirius' voice? Why-
Hermione woke up with a jolt, breathing hard. The fright was still in her, and the pain, somehow having pierced her to the heart. She clutched at it with wide eyes, staring ahead into the night.
Nightmares. She didn't need nightmares, not when she was already so short on sleep…
She remembered then that she hadn't done a thing about apologizing appropriately yet, and sighed as she slipped from beneath the covers to pull on a sweater over her flannel nightclothes. She tip-toed down through the dorm room and down the stairs, then murmured a soft 'sorry' as she opened the fat-lady's portrait.
The weight of the timeturner reminded her that she needn't sneak around like this, but she ignored it. The thing seemed to have a life of its own sometimes, and she didn't like the feeling.
The relief she felt at not being caught vaporized as she slipped through the corner of the two walls. The scent of alcohol reached her nose, and Hermione's nose wrinkled.
"Sirius," she said, catching sight of his hunched figure sitting on the couch. "What are you doing?"
He blinked once, slowly, then glanced her way. Sirius raised a bottle at her, then, in salute. "Getting myself thoroughly drunk. I thought that would be obvious."
Hermione frowned deeply and walked over to him – then jerked the bottle out of his hand and made a quick count of the number on the floor already. Only two. Not too bad (hopefully – she didn't have much experience in these matters).
"Why are you getting yourself drunk?" she asked him exasperatedly, checking to make sure he wasn't about to pass out or any such thing.
"Because," he said, frowning at the bottle in her hand and jerking it back from her quickly. "I've just had the worst scare of my life. People tend to drink when that happens." He took a swig and let himself fall back against the couch.
Hermione's lips tightened as she jerked at the bottle again. Sirius kept hold of it this time, though, and she found herself in a struggle over it. "I had the scare of my life too," she snapped, putting one foot against the couch to pull. "And if you haven't noticed, I'm not getting myself drunk!"
Sirius pulled once more, and she let out a squeak as he managed to get the bottle from her, sending her sprawling on the other end of the couch. He drank a long gulp from it.
She eyed him unhappily. This wasn't going at all as planned.
She could always wait until he passed out to destroy all of the alcohol (though she wasn't entirely sure what was actually in it). But that wasn't exactly preferable. And Sirius, for one, didn't look as though he were going to listen to her reason.
An idea hit her, then, and Hermione moved across to the other side of the table, picking up an unopened bottle and pulling the cap off with effort. There was a hiss of air, and a bit sloshed onto her. Sirius didn't seem to have noticed her yet, so she took the bottle bravely to her mouth and threw a bit back exaggeratedly.
The bottle slammed back onto the table as she gagged on it, coughing. "This stuff is vile!" she told him. "Why on earth would you drink it?"
Sirius blinked in surprise, looking at her. He snatched the bottle from in front of her then, eyes wide. "You- you're not supposed to be drinking, at your age-"
Hermione snorted. "No one's supposed to be drinking at their age, in my opinion." Nevertheless, she grabbed another bottle and opened it, watching him as she did so. "I'm going to be matching you drink for drink, Sirius. I do hope you stop soon, though – whatever's in here is disgusting."
He goggled at her comically for a moment, before shaking his head to clear it. "You can't, Hermione – I'm at least double your weight, you'd die most likely-"
"Yes, well." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "At least you're still sober enough to understand that. Are you up to talking?"
Sirius sighed and put his head in his hands. "What did I do to deserve this?" he lamented into his hands, muffled. "It's not like I'm asking much, to get myself sloshed and forget…"
She rolled her eyes, ignoring the guilty pang inside her. "Look, I- I came down here to apologize about that…"
He looked up, but didn't sit up again. "You did. You can leave now."
Hermione frowned. "I mean really apologize. I know it was a stupid thing to do – I knew it as I was doing it, actually – but I didn't feel there was any other way, and there wasn't much time to think about it."
Sirius slouched backward onto the arm of the couch, eyeing her darkly and evaluating the bottle in his hand as though he were wondering if he could drink it without her noticing. "Moony would've rather it'd been him, if it'd been true in the first place," he told her. "Told me he thinks very highly of you, good student, reminds you a bit of him – but it's not just that, he'd rather it be him than any of the students. And I agree – that I'd rather it be me, in any case."
Hermione scowled at him, feeling somehow condescended to. "And what do you think I was going to do?" she demanded. "Leave him there, when I thought I might do something? Let me tell you, you're not the only one that can be high-minded or whatever you want to call it. I'd rather it be me, you dolt!"
Sirius blinked at her, as though realizing for the first time that she might think like a human being too – then shook his head and groaned, raising the bottle to his lips. Hermione mirrored him quickly, though, and he set it down with a thud.
"Would you stop doing that?" he asked her exasperatedly. "Why should you care if I drink anyway?"
Hermione frowned. "Because it's bad for you, and it doesn't help anything. Besides which, if you decided to leave like this, you'd be liable to get yourself caught. I didn't do all of this for that to happen."
Sirius was quiet for a moment, and she felt she'd finally gotten through to him. Her hope was confirmed as he pushed the drink away. "I thought you were dead," he said quietly.
She dropped her gaze to the floor. "It- it's not something I didn't anticipate," she said, but her voice was unsure.
"No one anticipates their own death!" he snapped, running his fingers through his hair raggedly. "It shouldn't have happened. I should have been there!"
Hermione winced. "That's not your fault-"
"It is," he cut her off. "If I hadn't left, if I'd trusted you a bit more… I made mistakes-"
"And everyone makes mistakes!" she said, feeling slightly frustrated. "I made a mistake in thinking I had to save Professor Lupin, when it turned out he had to save me! I made a mistake in not telling Dumbledore sooner! I made loads of mistakes, so why can't we just say it cancels out and leave it at that?"
Sirius wiped at his face with his hands uncertainly. "You make it sound so simple," he muttered. "It's not. If you'd seen you, the way you were just as I got there…"
Hermione swallowed – then quickly vanished the remaining drinks before he could get any ideas. "I'm sure I don't know what it's like," she admitted, but her mind drifted back to the sight she'd had of Harry, unmoving, in the middle of the Quidditch field… "But I can't second guess myself now."
Sirius was staring at her with a haunted expression now. "You looked just like them," he murmured, probably not intending her to hear. But it sent a chill through her, because she knew somehow what he was talking about. Lily and James, still as death…
And he suddenly looked so alone and tired that she found herself moving, getting up to put her arms around him comfortingly. As strange and embarrassing as it was, though, Hermione knew it was the right thing to do when he relaxed slightly.
"Can you forgive me, then?" she asked him.
He shook his head wearily. "You were never the one that needed forgiveness. And I won't even ask for it."
She frowned at him. "You've got it anyway then. And don't we just sound like we're trying to open a door for each other? It's probably utterly sickening."
Sirius laughed, and she felt a warmth spread through her as she realized she was the one solely responsible for it.