Author's Note: Thanks to Moon, jasmin rose, Rane2920072, and EnchantingFreak for the comment. I hope you like this chapter and leave some comments. I really appreciate it and helps me formulate the next scenes I should put in.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters and I am not making money out of this.

Summary: When they discovered a supposed murder in Hogwarts some twenty years ago while searching for a link to Sirius, Hermione, plagued by weird dreams, never expected to end up in the past, dealing with many things like prejudice and love. (SiriusHermione)

Chapter 2: Unusual Behaviors and Dreams

They were looking at a room with only one large window positioned so high that it was near the ceiling. The moon illuminated the middle of the room that could probably be a classroom for roughly thirty students. Apart from the walls and seemingly centuries old tapestries hanging all around the room, it was bare.

After they had followed Luna into many secret passages that they didn't know she was aware of, they had come to this room, expecting to see many incriminating things that could help them visualize what could have happened here many years earlier. But they were disappointed to say the least at what was before them.

"What now?" Hermione asked softly, afraid at the expression of anger on Harry's face.

Ron did not even dare to talk. And Luna was just behind them, standing near the door where they came in from.

Harry didn't reply as he walked around the room, looking at the very much worn out tapestries that had barely perceptible stains on them. Hermione followed suit and pushed on one of the walls after handing Ron the book she had been holding. Soon, the four of them were searching the room as time passed them by.

When they were all about to give up, Hermione was having strange feelings about the place and when she saw Luna looking at her thoughtfully, she was unsettled for some reason. So when she walked towards Ron, she tripped on her own feet and ended up sprawled on the floor, her face all but eating one end of the old and up-to-the-floor-length tapestry. She coughed from the dust as she withdrew her head but upon reaching for her face, pulled a very old parchment sticking to her cheek.

She didn't have time to read it however, as Ron pulled her up and ran after Harry, who was dragging a still serene-looking Luna through the door and back to the secret passage they used to get there. Seconds later, Filch's footsteps could be heard racing towards the room they had just left.

"Sorry," Hermione murmured.

Ron barely heard her as he continued to pull her along. But amidst the dark, Hermione could've sworn she can still see Luna looking at her thoughtfully. And it scared her, more than Harry's probable anger at having found nothing that could solve the mystery most likely connected to Voldemort.

a-a-a-

The cold floor was not at all disturbing. It even made her smile slightly at the fact that she could not feel the coldness when she was running about the castle. But running around didn't give her the chance to feel the roughness of the stone wall of the corridors and so she avoided running…

But now that the familiar sounds of some students she knew were again behind her, she shook her head and began to go faster, her speed coming to strange figures and her stealth improving. She could not afford to have one of them catch her, especially not when he was in a rampage of some sort that she would inevitably have to fight him. No, fighting was bad… it causes too much pain… takes away too many lives…

a-a-a-

"Remember to add only a few drops of the liquid essence of belladonna…"

Snape's voice droned on in the background but for the first time, Hermione's mind could not settle on their Potion's lesson, whatever it was. Her mind kept going back to her strange dream and the feelings she felt when she was having them. She could not really understand it but every time she had the dreams of corridors, it would always be dark and she would always be touching the stone walls. It just struck her as unusual that she would seek comfort in touching rough walls...

"Hermione," a sharp whisper from someone behind her brought her out of her musing and she quickly fixed her eyes on Snape, hoping that he hadn't noticed her drifting off. When he continued talking, she inclined her head slightly to her right in the hopes of catching a look at Neville, who was sitting behind her. She was slightly amused that he had the courage now to go about whispering in Snape's classes when he was so afraid of their terrorizing Potions professor. Perhaps the experience of dealing with numerous Death Eaters had had something to do with it.

Then, she felt Neville push a parchment by her elbow and that called her off her reflection. With her eyes trained on Snape once again, she took hold of the parchment, putting it in her pocket immediately when Snape stopped talking suddenly; their Potions professor's black eyes swept across the room in a calculating manner for a while before he continued to talk.

She waited for a few seconds before pulling the parchment out, her eyes lingering on their professor for a few more seconds before she attempted to read the parchment. But before she could read it, Snape stopped talking again and she immediately stuffed the parchment inside her bag. Her hand then went in search for her quill and she had the strange sensation of feeling as if she had pocketed her quill earlier on. With a frown, she reached inside her pocket and felt her quill there. She was just about to pull it out when—

"Would you care to read the parchment, Miss Granger?"

Snickers were heard from all over the room and she looked up to see that her Slytherin classmates were grinning at her while Snape proceeded to approach her.

Her heart pounded and she immediately pulled her hand out of the pocket, her mind frantically trying to remember if the reason why her hand was in there was because she was putting the parchment there. But before she could remember, Snape was standing beside her desk, looking at her with cold eyes that seemed to command her to reveal the parchment.

"Professor—"

"The parchment, Miss Granger," he cut her off immediately, earning more snickers from the Slytherins and glares from the Gryffindors.

Before she could argue again, he pointed his wand to her robe's pocket and in a dull tone murmured, "Accio parchment."

It all happened so fast that before she could blink, the parchment flew out of her pocket and went to Snape's waiting palm. His eyes turned even colder if that was still possible before he eyed the parchment steadily. Everything went silent and still until finally, Snape opened his mouth and read the message for everyone to hear.

"Meet us in the common room at exactly midnight." He looked up and fixed her a very frosty glare albeit his face didn't even adopt any expression. "Off to get into trouble, Miss Granger?" His eyes moved towards Harry and then towards Ron before returning to her. "I could save you the effort – detention Miss Granger, Mister Potter and Mister Weasley; eight sharp."

And then he swept away towards the front of the class to announce that they would be brewing the discussed potion the following meeting before entering his office and shutting the door with a loud bang. The Slytherins seemed to pay no heed to that and was still casting her mocking grins that irritated her so much that she thought she could hear her mind roaring with a strange sound usually attributed to an angry wild cat.

But everyone started moving and murmuring as they left the classroom and she could not bring herself to care as she stood up and irately pushed her things back in her bag, whipping around immediately thereafter to look at Harry and Ron who were both looking at her with scowls plastered on their faces.

"That," Ron began angrily. "Was bloody well–"

"Humiliating," she finished in the same angry tone, not caring if Snape heard them. She looked at Harry and waited for him to say something that reflected his anger but was surprised when he said the last thing she expected him to say.

"He didn't read the entire message," he said, his frown deepening.

Ron seemed as surprised as she was for he looked at Harry as if he grew another head.

"He knows," Harry finished, clearly telling them that he was scowling not because he was angry but because he thought Snape was on to them. "I said something about researching possible spells that could've blown the student to pieces."

Hermione noticed Ron opening his mouth and then closing it as if he did not know what to say. Turning back to fix the closed office door a bewildered look before swinging her bag on her shoulder, she finally pulled her friends out of the classroom. At that moment, she realized that they still had much time to brew the potion because she was sure that Snape had only been giving them instructions as he usually did every potions class before they started to brew whatever discussed potion.

"I think Harry's right," she said slowly. "He dismissed us so early…"

Ron once again looked surprised. "Oh yeah. I wonder what made him do that."

"Obviously," Harry said grimly. "The message touched a nerve. He must know something about the only dead student blown to bits here."

"He wasn't a teacher here—"

"Exactly, Hermione," the raven-haired boy cut in. "He wasn't. Because he was a student here just like my parents."

"You can't be saying that he knew that girl and sold her out to…" Ron trailed off, sharing Hermione's horror-filled look.

"He was a Death Eater, wasn't he?" Harry asked sharply. "And then he changed sides. Don't you ever wonder why?"

Hermione eyed Harry carefully and thought about what he said. Despite hating their Potions professor for being unfair to the Gryffindors, she could not really think of him as the murdering type, especially not a student who would have his fellow student dead. But somehow, at the look that Harry was giving off and at Ron's convinced face, she felt something strange… She could not be sure if she believed Harry entirely as well or if there was something else though.

"What should we do then?" Ron asked uncertainly. "We've got detention with him."

Harry shrugged but his face was crowding with determination that said of one thing: they would get to the bottom of things, even if it got them in trouble.

a-a-a-

When they arrived at the dungeons at eight o clock sharp, Snape was nowhere to be found, even his office was empty. They looked at each other, wondering what was going on but before any of them could voice anything, Snape entered the classroom and looked at them coldly.

"Clean the classroom without wands and then be off," he said coldly, eyeing each one of them carefully for seconds at end that it made them uncomfortable. After a while, he swept into his office and shut the door loudly.

"Well," Ron began. "I think that went rather well."

"If you mean without further punishments, yes I agree," Hermione said, sighing and trying to get rid of the strange unease at the pit of her stomach. Something about Snape stirred an emotion in her that she could not really define. At that instant, she wanted to ask Harry to tell her what it was, but she remembered her promise, she would never burden her friends. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

"What for?" Ron asked while Harry looked at her with confusion.

"I landed us this detention because I wasn't fast enough."

Harry and Ron both shrugged and smiled at her to assure her they weren't about to yell at her. The night went on rather uneventfully as they cleaned the classroom and Snape never once checked on them that it was slightly odd to have him lenient at them in some ways. They had thought that he'd enjoy making them squirm under his constant supervision and find more things for them to do so they'd have an extended detention.

"Are we still…" Ron began to ask but trailed off when he saw Harry's expression. "Well, I wasn't looking forward to sleeping anyway," he amended.

Harry remained silent for a while. "No. Maybe we should stop for a while. Snape could have set a trap for us somewhere…"

Hermione didn't bother to hold back her sigh of relief. There was something she still had to reflect on regarding Snape and she wasn't too keen on sneaking around while her mind was drifting off somewhere.

a-a-a-

Her chest was hurting but was slowly lessening its pain as her fingers brushed over the rough surface of the walls. It was so comforting that she couldn't bring herself to run away when she heard sounds coming towards her. The hot liquid continuously trailed down her cheeks but she did not bother with it because it was hard to breathe as it was.

The rough wall seemed to fade from her touch and she felt herself falling into the abyss, hearing screams of pain before dimly realizing that there was something warm wrapped around her. Through the darkness and her tears, she looked up at the shadow of someone and heard a very familiar voice…

"Hermione."

The hand holding her arm shook her again and Hermione started up, looking at Ginny's worried face.

"Ginny," she said, aware that her chest was still hurting.

"Are you alright?" The redhead asked her.

"Huh?" She looked around and remembered that she was in the library. Her eyes scanned the table in front of her and she realized that she must have fallen asleep while doing her assignment in Transfiguration.

"You're crying," Ginny, who was sitting across of her, informed her suddenly.

With a frown, she reached up a hand to her cheek and was surprised to discover that her friend was right. Her mind whirled back to the dream she had but she could not really understand why she was crying.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She remembered that she was not alone and that Ginny was getting rather more worried by the second. "Just a dream," she said hurriedly and she smiled weakly. "Really," she added when the redhead was looking at her skeptically. "I really should finish this essay."

It was an obvious cue that she wanted to be alone but Ginny lingered for a moment before finally sighing and leaving her after her pointed ignoring. When she was once more alone, she stopped pretending to read what she had written and thought back to what she had been doing prior to her dreaming.

She had been thinking about what Harry had said roughly two weeks ago about Snape's mysterious changing of side. Harry had a point but why would Dumbledore trust Snape if the reason wasn't good? It could not have had something to do with the death of one student, could it?

Sighing, she knew she would not be able to do anything productive and so she started packing her things, grateful somewhat that she would have the evening after her prefect duty was through to do the essay due the following week. It was a good thing that since that rather oddly uneventful detention from Snape, they had not been sneaking around. As it was, she was rarely having a peaceful night with the dreams that had been plaguing her.

Her hand had grasped something in her bag when she reached inside to tuck some things better and she brought it out, frowning when she saw that it was an old parchment. Her frown deepened when she looked at it carefully, suddenly remembering that it was the same parchment she had put in her robe when they looked around the hidden room.

How did it get there? She asked herself, musing for the better part of the hour until she finally figured it out. She did put a parchment in her bag that day Snape caught the message from Harry but it was this parchment and not the one Harry had asked Neville to pass along.

Focusing on the rather familiar handwriting on the parchment, she tried to decipher the blurred writings and belatedly realized that she had read some of these ingredients from somewhere. Her mind began to trek on many subjects that could have possibly mentioned most of what was written.

Obviously, even when the other ingredients were already too blurred for her to read, the list was for a potion. After all, ingredients were usually used for such and she could not imagine many charms asking for them to put the said ingredients in a cauldron. She blinked her eyes more as she realized that below the ingredients appeared to be a detailed instruction.

But an instruction for what potion exactly?

a-a-a-

When she entered the Gryffindor common room that night, her mind was still wrapped around the mystery of the parchment. She had spent her entire weekend afternoon trying to read it and succeeded only partially as many of the writings were blurred beyond recognition.

"Hermione," Neville Longbottom said in greeting.

She nodded at him and murmured a simple "hi," as she passed by him on her way to the unoccupied chair by the fireplace. Sinking down on the comfortable seat, her mind started to go over what she had accomplished thus far and gave her the impression that she was still too far off in solving the mystery. She had only managed to decipher the first three instructions and about one-thirds of the listed ingredients, which she researched for their uses. As far as her research was concerned, the common denominator among them was that they can be used for divination, a subject that didn't quite match her talents and interests.

Perhaps she could ask someone in their house who was taking Divination still. But wouldn't that rouse suspicion? It would, surely. And knowing how words spread like wildfire, the entire school would be buzzing about so many distorted versions and spun-up tales.

Besides, why would that girl be making some potion for divination when she got blown up? Could it be possible that she was trying to predict some weakness in Voldemort? Why would she be making that potion in some overly secluded classroom anyway? It's not as if she's brewing something illegal, is she?

Suddenly, as if she just gotten a very strong central nervous system stimulant, her mind registered some plausible solution to her predicament. Why didn't she think of sneaking into the Restricted Section? She had been a frequent visitor there as of late, it wouldn't hurt to go there one more time…

Harry and Ron would be thrilled to know about this.

But then, she thought about the disappointment on her best friends faces – especially Harry's – if they were not able to find anything. After all, she only managed to decipher a small part of the parchment; it was hardly a solid clue to lead them anywhere.

With the realization, she sighed and brooded for some time, finally coming into the conclusion when Harry and Ron came that she would sneak in alone and fill them in with the information when she had gotten really good and solid evidence to point them to the right direction.

So, later that night, she did sneak in alone in the library's Restricted Section.

a-a-a-

She could feel eyes following her as she walked the dimly lit corridors with her bare feet. But she paid no regard whatsoever; she was comforted by the rough, stone walls. It was safe in here compared to the outside.

With light steps, she walked on and on, roaming the huge castle that were now her last refuge from true and evil darkness. And still, the eyes followed her, watching every move she made until she felt her strength fade; she was growing weaker she knew, plagued by the images of the darkness that was to come, and drained by the suffocating loneliness and cruelty that the world dealt her with.

But when she fell, she did not feel the pain of the impact. Perhaps she was just too numb to feel…

"You idiot," someone hissed and all faded into the darkness that was far from evil.

a-a-a-

"Hermione, are you sure? You look too pale to be walking alone," said Harry.

She nodded again, her irritation apparent. "Yes."

Her two best friends looked at her a bit uncertainly, but walked away to the other direction nonetheless. She watched them go and didn't even realize that she had stood there for minutes on end long after they had gone.

"Alone, Granger?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits and she spun around, her glare in place. "Malfoy," she spat, the name sounding like it was something too foul that it pained her to speak it.

Grey, unreadable eyes regarded her for a while. He shook his head, walking away without another word that she was left confused. But then, before he turned around the corner, he looked at her again, something she could not define present on his pointed but attractive face.

"You may know me as a liar, but believe me you're better off," he said in a tone he never used on her before – a tone without spite and mockery. "You're a Gryffindor, remember?"

To say that she was struck speechless at what he said was an understatement. She was looking at him with wide eyes and slack-opened mouth that she thought she saw a hint of amusement flash on his face before he walked away completely.

Wha-what?

Even her mind could not grasp that what had happened was reality and after she had mustered up the will to walk towards the library, she was convinced that she had been daydreaming.

And about Malfoy of all people! Am I daft or what?

a-a-a-

Someone – no, something – was after her and she ran as fast as her unsteady legs could carry her; she was scared. If what was after her caught up, she knew she would die. She was too weak to fight and she left her wand in the girls' dormitories.

But it was coming nearer, she could sense. Her legs were giving away.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from somewhere on her right and she was slammed against the hard stone wall beside the heavy door that just closed. There were ragged breathings and she frowned, realizing that it was her own and someone else's. She looked up then, noticing that she was pinned on the wall by a boy her age.

He was breathing hard as if he ran more than the distance she had covered and he was looking at her with a mixture of resignation and anger. "You…" He hissed angrily. "Would get us both killed!"

Her frown deepened. "I—"

"Shut up!" He said harshly as he covered her mouth with a strong hand.

There were sounds outside – growling and some sounds of chasing something away. Minutes later, the sounds faded and he slowly released her. When he stepped away from her, she got a clear view of his face from the full moon's light that seeped through the window. She opened her mouth to say his name but the annoyance in his expression remained.

Looking at her straight in the eye without a trace of spite, he muttered in such a low voice that she was sure she was not meant to hear it, "James would kill me for this."

"Hermione?"

Someone was tapping her shoulder and she found it bothersome that she groaned and opened her eyes, slightly surprised to see Neville there looking at her with an uncertain and worried expression.

"Neville," she said, straightening up from the library table she had been resting her arms and head on. "Is there something you need?"

He looked sheepish. "No, actually. It's just that I heard you breathing so hard like you couldn't breathe and I thought… well… I thought that maybe you were having a nightmare. See, I knew someone who died because of nightmares, and I… well…"

She smiled at his nervous babbling. He must think she would hex him for disturbing her sleep. "Thank you."

He looked even more sheepish. "Um… well… I'll go look for some books now."

When he left, Hermione thought back to her strange dream. It had felt so real, like all her dreams lately. It was almost as if she had been really there. And suddenly, her thoughts went to Harry and the situation that happened in the Department of Mysteries.

Was it possible that Voldemort was implanting some images in her? But they weren't even connected, were they? Surely not! Besides, the dreams… they were so different from that of Harry's, like she was seeing through someone's eyes… and the dream she just had about something chasing her, about a boy who pulled her inside a classroom… She couldn't really remember his face, at least not all of the features. But he looked like someone she knew…

She sighed and folded her arms on the table again, resting her head on it. She felt too tired these days. Maybe all the worrying about the student who got killed in Hogwarts was getting into her. Plus, she had spent up to five in the morning looking for related information in the Restricted Section.

There were some things really about divination but the only thing she discovered about the ingredients used together pointed to some serious Dark Arts. She shuddered. A student of Hogwarts using Dark Arts getting blown up didn't sit well with her. Did that mean that the student was actually trying to summon the Dark Lord instead of looking for a weakness? Did that mean she was a Death Eater who displeased the Dark Lord enough that he killed her inside Hogwarts?

Her mind spun with questions and soon enough, she was wishing that she had a pillow to lay her head on for just a few minutes…

The bed was soft and she did not want to leave it. However, something was pushing her to do so and very reluctantly, she did. It was dark outside – it was night time. But there was something heavy in the air, something foreboding that made her shiver with dread.

She walked the hallway – something she was lately familiar with – and felt her stomach drop all of a sudden.

He was here.

With great fear, she ran towards a room, trying to warn—

Then she felt it – a pain so great that it was worse than the killing curse itself; she knew this pain, the pain of anguish and love. It was over, wasn't it? But she continued to run, staggering at the pain; it hurt her so that she was hardly able to breathe at all. And when she arrived, a body lay on the floor – unmoving. Her heart wrenched and she reached out her hand to the creature so precious that two people were now dead, one inside the room and the other probably outside.

Blood ran from the forehead of the child, matching the blood in her heart.

It was done; the prophecy. And this life would bear all the pain the Wizarding world would offer him by quantities. Even those who would take him in would try to purge him of his special gift and cause him too much pain by doing so. She cried as her hand passed through the small boy; she wasn't there, she failed him.

Flashes of light engulfed her and when it disappeared, she looked at the child – now a young man – fighting off the heart of the malicious darkness. He was bloodied and weak, his powers unable to escape from its prison inside him; desperation had not yet broken the dam he did not know existed within him.

Harry…

There were so many dead witches and wizards from both sides. Did that matter? At the moment, she could not bring herself to care because the child she failed was facing certain death.

"I would die first," he muttered with conviction, staggering slightly, his wand held out unsteadily.

And she felt it, the last curse that would ever graze a body with life – Harry's body. As if in slow motion, the flash of light traveled slowly and she ran to stand in front of the boy –

No…

It hurt far more than she had anticipated. But she should have known. Emotions always hurt more than anything physical because the wounds go deeper, seeping into one's soul.

"No…"

She heard the boy whisper and for once she was glad; she was there, wasn't she?

"Don't…" He said softly, his tears pooling in his amazing set of green eyes that looked so much like his mother's.

"Pathetic," he, the cause of so much terror, mocked.

But the hero stood with anger in his heart. And in one last time, the world waited for its fate…

Everything must come to an end as they say. When he fell, everything faded with him. Could they blame him for not succeeding? They could, they would. And she couldn't understand why even in her death, pain refused to leave … perhaps because she failed after all. He wasn't supposed to suffer like this… it was not meant to be. It was unfair how they forced a little boy to slay a dragon and blame him when he ends up being slain instead.

It was unfair… But that's just the way life moves.

Again and again, it felt like she was under the Cruciatus Curse. But no, it was just guilt, resentment, defeat, and so many other things. She failed Harry. And it pained her so… even death would never be enough penance. She couldn't die even with all the torment, her soul couldn't rest. Because even then, it still was not enough and she would pay penance after penance, forever trapped in the cycle… because she would choose it to pay for all the lives lost – especially those lives that mattered most to her.