Time Defyer

Chapter VI: Back to the Library

1977

A few smuggled butterbeers later, Hermione was feeling much more relaxed around Sirius. She had to admit he had a certain charm to him once you got past the insurmountable arrogance. Their conversation hadn't really had much substance, but she found herself with stolen smiles and a laugh or two at his jokes that she thought really oughtn't be funny. She had been lucky so far, though: whether because he got the feeling she wasn't going to be open about it or he was just being courteous, he hadn't asked her any questions that would get her into serious trouble.

"Favorite vacation," Hermione asked him. They'd moved on now to asking trivial, and yet usually interesting, queries, from favorite food to more obscure ones like favorite Zonko's product (Hermione didn't have a very complicated answer for that one).

Sirius pondered for a moment, then grinned. "My family—may they all fester in Hell— once took a trip over to some Dark magic convention far in the mountains, dragging me, 'Dromeda, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Regulus with them. Narcissa, Bellatrix, and my rotten brother were, of course, fascinated and eavesdropped upon the whole thing, but 'Dromeda and I were thoroughly uninterested and stayed as far away as we dared."

"Sounds fun."

"It was, actually," Sirius counteracted, obviously lost in the memory. "We would make up all sorts of games; the fact that all we had were our imaginations made it all the more exhilarating. We were quite young at that point, but we were closer than ever. None of my family ever found out about our escapades, and every time 'Dromeda and I happened to get together, we would have the time of our lives continuing the games. Arguably the best times of my horrendous childhood."

He didn't elaborate on said childhood, but Hermione knew it all anyway, what with having made friends with Sirius's older counterpart. She'd known Andromeda and Sirius had been close cousins, but hearing him talk so freely about their friendship made her heart ache. Not only for him, but because she missed Harry and Ron so desperately. She wondered then if, perhaps, drinking the potion was a bad idea.

"Well, I'm glad you got some fun out of your younger life, even if it was in the midst of Dark events," she said honestly. She only wished those memories had been enough to save him.

Sirius half-smiled at her and cleared his throat. "Okay, your turn," he said, pondering his question. Then his eyes lit up, and Hermione couldn't help but feel wary. "Most empowering moment."

Hermione actually had to think about that one; it wasn't a simple question, though he may have meant it that way. She could think of many examples during the last few months and painful experiences with Harry and Ron, but she didn't want to indulge that yet to Sirius. He may have been trustworthy, but she hardly knew this version of him, and she didn't exactly want James or Lupin (let alone Pettigrew) to find out. Then she recalled a very humorous moment years ago, and couldn't resist telling him.

"There was one, about three or four years ago," she said, the memory fresh. "There was a very annoying, very conceited, very cruel boy named, um, Daniel Malden that lived in Sly—er, my neighborhood—and there was an instant where a good friend of mine experienced a tragedy. His pet had to get put down, and he was in pieces over it. Horridly enough, Daniel made fun of my friend and of his pet, to the point where it should have been lawfully punishable. Now I'm normally a nonviolent person, but that comment got to be too much and I slapped him hard across his pale, pointed face, to everyone's surprise, though to my satisfaction. Better yet, his face was red for a week. It was one of the most amazing points of my life."

Sirius now actually grinned, and Hermione, for a second, wished Sirius had actually been there to witness her slapping of Malfoy. Or, as she'd changed his name on the fly, Daniel Malden. She had to admit it wasn't the best name, but it'd have to do. After all, she couldn't exactly tell Sirius Malfoy's actual name. That would be quite an awkward situation to get into.

"Sounds fantastic," Sirius said, a look almost akin to awe in his face. "I say you should've punched or cursed him, but sounds like a slap did the job just fine."

"Well enough," Hermione agreed, though now that Sirius had made another suggestion, she felt angry for not thinking of it herself at the time.

Silence fell between them, the mirth vanishing from both faces. Hermione turned to stare in the fire blazing merrily in the grate, letting thoughts of S.P.E.W. filter through her mind for a moment. She could tell Sirius was staring at her studiously, but she ignored him. She was afraid that if she looked at him, there would at least be some signs of pity in his face, which was one of the last things she wanted. What she wanted was both a way to see Harry and Ron again, and find out the thing she came here for in the first place.

What she hadn't told the boys was that it wasn't really for her that she voyaged here…it was more for Harry. She knew better, of course, than to meddle with time, but she kept wondering if things perhaps would be happier and more pleasant if certain people had not perished in Harry's life. Particularly the man that was sitting currently beside her. She wondered how exactly it could be bad if Sirius were to miraculously not die.

"What did the fire ever do to you?" Sirius said, breaking through her depressing musings.

She blinked, turning to him. She sighed internally—even though Sirius did have sarcasm on his face, there was pity there as well. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not sure it's so deserving of your glare," he answered, looking curiously at her.

"I was just thinking," she answered truthfully. He raised an eyebrow expectantly, and she found herself explaining more. "I have two fantastic friends back home. I miss them more than I thought I would, I guess. They got annoying as hell sometimes, but…I just…I miss them."

"You don't have to explain great friendship to me, Granger," he said, a note of finality in his voice. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him Peter shouldn't be included in that. That fact may be too much to change, much as she wished it weren't. "Prongs may get love-struck, Moony may get too bookish for his own good, and Wormtail—that's Peter—may become too much of a wimp, but they've always come through when it's really needed."

"That much I can relate to," Hermione replied, staring at Sirius in a new light.

She'd never imagined he could be so…deep. The Sirius she knew was more angsty and bitter. Yes, he was extremely talented, wickedly humorous, and possessed the ability to be a great friend, but she hadn't detected the side of him that had apparently manifested itself in his younger self. She wasn't so sure she didn't like this Sirius better. After spending a few hours with him, she thought she could see that maybe all the stories about him were really true.

Suddenly, Sirius got a foreign look in his eye that Hermione couldn't identify. She did, however, feel her heart rate increase and blood rush to her head, her subconscious reacting to whatever he was doing. Before she knew it, he was leaning forward, getting closer by the second. She felt her eyes start to close of their own accord, her breath coming in short gasps…

1996

Harry knew it was well past the point where he could concentrate on any more text, his eyes glazing over the words, all the sentences muddling together. He wasn't even sure what book he was looking at or what it was about. His eyes burning with fatigue and his glasses drooping down to the end of his nose, he glanced up at Ron across the table, fully expecting him to either be asleep or in the same state as Harry himself. It came as a great surprise, then, that Ron was industriously flipping through a large tome that Harry guessed hadn't been read in a hundred years. His nose was about five inches from the page, and his blue eyes were skimming the words with blurring speed.

He had half a mind to let Ron continue poring over more countless books, but knew that Ron wouldn't find much. They hadn't found anything remotely referencing the potion Hermione had used, and came to think that perhaps it was a concoction of her own, or at least a blending of multiple potions. Dumbledore and McGonagall had certainly seemed to know what they'd been talking about, but then again the two Professors also appeared to know more than met the eye. They may very well have guessed the sort of magic she had used.

"Ron," Harry said quietly, glancing nervously out the windows at the pitch-black sky. He realized for the first time in a couple hours that the library was deadly silent. Ron didn't answer. "Ron!"

This time Ron blinked out of his stupor and glanced up at Harry, eyes rimmed in tired red, and almost surprised that Harry was still there. "Unh?" he mumbled.

"Ron, we really should get going," Harry said, feeling a bit of remorse that he had to be the one to suggest it.

Ron was about to answer, and then Harry felt a feeling of dread run down his spine when someone else spoke. "Yes, I do believe that's the best idea," it said icily.

He turned to his left, only to see the beak-nosed, uptight Madam Pince glaring at him and Ron through sharp eyes. He hadn't even heard her approach. "We're getting there," Harry answered meekly. He cast a nudging look to Ron.

"Professor Dumbledore has informed me of Ms. Granger's disappearance, which is why I have granted you the permission to be in here for two hours after closing, but it is approaching eleven o'clock, and it is high time you get out," Madam Pince said, clearly showing her distaste for Dumbledore's order.

Harry was slightly relieved that it was on Dumbledore's permission that they were here, and rather astonished that Madam Pince had allowed it, but knew her patience was not one to be toyed with. He gathered up the books nervously, gently edging the one Ron had been looking at away from his clammy fingers, as carefully as he could under Madam Pince's glare.

"We'll just, er, we'll just be putting these back now," Harry replied hastily, getting up from the table, and, though he was a good six inches taller than the librarian, felt unnaturally tiny.

"I do believe that is the smartest idea, Mr. Potter," Madam Pince sneered.

Harry walked around to Ron's side of the desk and pulled him up by his collar. "Come on, Ron," he said regretfully. Take half of these. I can't carry them all by myself."

Ron looked positively depressed at the fact that they were being forced to leave, but there was no way he could think of to get out of it. If Madam Pince was anything, she was insistent. As it happened, all the books they'd grabbed went in generally the same section, which meant the librarian was able to follow them as closely as a hawk, more than once slapping Harry's hand when he started to put a book in the wrong place. He was getting quite frustrated with it now, but dared not get cross with her. Snape he probably would have, but Madam Pince was an entirely different matter.

It, in reality, only took them about ten minutes to replace all the books, but felt much longer under Madam Pince's gaze, and Harry could tell even Ron was feeling it through his disappointment. "Thanks, Madam Pince, we appreciate it," Ron mumbled to her as the two boys headed out of her sanctum.

"Note that this privilege will not be granted to you again," Madam Pince said in way of answer. Harry got the distinct feeling she meant it. To the death.

"Understood," Harry replied, pushing open the great, heavy doors of the library and stepping into the eerily dark hall, Madam Pince's eyes yellowy as Filch's cat. Quite a scary sight, to be sure.

Hoping they wouldn't meet any errant teachers along the way, Harry and Ron trekked up the few floors to their common room, Harry truly hoping Ron wouldn't want to venture back to the library. Harry had had enough of the place for the time being. It didn't help that every moment he'd allowed his mind to stray he was reminded of Hermione. Where are you? He thought desperately, missing his friend more than she knew.