Uncertainty Principle

Chapter 4: Five Years

xXx

August 26, 1971

Hermione can't bring herself to read Sirius' letter. A part of her wants to, but now that she's had time to process she's so angry at him. How could he do this to her? How could he trap her in a time loop? What could possibly be so important that he had to send her back here, to a time where she couldn't even do any real good. He'd said it himself, she couldn't change anything, so why send her here at all. Hermione shakes her head and shoves the letter into her beaded bag. Maybe one day she would read the letter, but that day wasn't today.

"Are you ready dear?" Carmichael asks as he steps to the threshold of her room. She nods, picking up her bag and slipping on her shoes. She follows Carmichael to the floo where he quickly explains what to do and then steps through. She meets him in the leaky and they begin their trip, making their way around the alley to pick up everything she needs. Every so often he sees someone he knows and they stop to chat, before moving on. They save the bookstore for last.

"Now, I'll have one of the store elves gather up your textbooks for you, in the meantime I want you to pick out a few books for yourself." Carmichael tells her.

Hermione stares up at him wide eyed. "Oh, Mr. Ramsey, you don't have to do that."

"Nonsense." he waves off her concern. "And please dear, it's Carmichael." with that he shoos her off to browse the stacks. She could have spent hours picking out books but, conscious of the circumstances, she picks out three of her favorites and returns to the counter where Carmichael is chatting with the proprietor. He takes the books from her and inspects them. "Excellent choices my dear, you've got good taste in literature." he smiles down at her, setting the books on the counter with her textbooks.

When they finish, they head back out onto the street. "Now, I believe that's all you need for school. So we can either head out to muggle London and get you some new clothes to replace what you've lost or we can go back to the house for lunch, have a lazy afternoon and order from the catalogs instead."

Hermione opts for going home, not entirely sure how well she'll handle shopping with a man who, in her own time, was a professional mentor above all. She supposed she'd have to get used to him being more than that.

The rest of the summer is relaxing. Carmichael takes the week off to help her prepare for school, and with both of them being rather efficient, it doesn't take them long. So, they spent the rest of the time getting to know each other and working their way through his impressive library. Hermione has always liked Carmichael, he was a friend as much as a mentor in the future and that fact helps considerably.

On September first, Hermione double checks that she has everything and then follows Carmichael through the floo into King's Cross Station. The platform is packed and for a moment Hermione finds herself swept up in the excitement. Without the prospect of another year that won't end with her fighting for her life, or the lives of her friends, she finds herself looking forward to school.

The excitement leaves her on the train as she's sitting in a carriage and catches a glimpse of familiar people. Lily Evans, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and worst of all Sirius Black. She sees them in passing on the train, she's sorted into Gryffindor and sees them at the table. She shares a room with Lily and classes with all of them and it hurts, it hurts so much she no longer looks forward to starting again. Instead of studying obsessively, she does what is assigned to her and spends all of her time avoiding people and trying to find a way back to her own time. Where in her own time she would have a reputation for being bookish and the best in the class, she's now not known at all. Most of her classmates only know her name because they were partnered with her in class or they remember her from the sorting.

By the time the holidays roll around she's as alone as she was in the first few weeks of her own first year except this time there's no troll to endear her to someone. She hates it, but she knows it's for the best. She can't change anything, so why should she risk getting attached to any of these people. She hears names that she knows won't make it past the end of the first war and it hurts to think she knows things that could help them and can't say anything, can't do anything.

They have a quiet Christmas. Carmichael tells her that they've been invited to the Potter's Christmas party, but she begs off, asking to stay home. Carmichael agrees, making an appearance for dinner and coming home relatively early to have dessert with her.

On Christmas morning, Hermione is awoken early by Carmichael. They have breakfast and open gifts. She had ordered him a new quill set and a few muggle books she had told him about and he had mentioned sounded interesting. To Hermione, Carmichael gives her several books on the various topics he's noticed she gravitates towards, as well as a leather bound journal and a fancy set of quills. The most shocking gift however, is a familiar. Hermione gasps as the familiar squished face and frizzy fur come into view.

The little orange kitten looks so much like her Crookshanks it almost hurts to look at him. But he's also so small it's hard to compare the two.

"The man at the menagerie said he's half kneazle. That makes him pretty smart which means he's perfect for keeping up with you." Carmichael chuckles.

'How odd' Hermione thinks as she holds out her hand to the kitten. "Does he have a name?" She asks.

"Yes, but I'll understand if you want to change it." He says. "His name is Crookshanks."

Hermione freezes. Could it really be him? Her Crookshanks right here in front of her? No, it couldn't be, that would mean Crookshanks was pushing thirty plus when she met him and he was still alive and kicking when she left her own time. Although he was half kneazle and no one really knew their average lifespan. It kind of made sense. Crookshanks always seemed to know when she needed him and the best way to make her feel better. It was like he'd known her forever.

It would also explain his love for Sirius. If he already knew him he'd know he could trust the animagus. He didn't befriend him third year, he was reunited with him.

"Hermione?" Carmichael calls out gently pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, belatedly realizing there are tears in her eyes.

"He's perfect." She replies fighting back tears for reasons she didn't quite understand. She reaches over and scoops up the flat nosed kitten, pulling him to her chest and kissing him on the head. "He's absolutely perfect."

Carmichael smiles.

After the holidays, Hermione finds herself interacting with Sirius for the first time since traveling back in time. It's not intentional. She turned her back on Crookshanks once and when she turned back he was gone, slipped through the cracked open door.

She scours the train, eventually finding the little kitten in the cabin occupied by none other than Sirius Black. She can tell immediately that something is wrong. The usually jovial boy is barely moving and Crookshanks doesn't want to leave him. Eventually she gets closer to pick the kitten up and in doing so sees the bruises he's trying to hide under his long sleeves. He tenses when he realizes she's seen them but she's not in the right state of mind to play it off to ease his mind.

Instead, she storms out in a rage, going back to her carriage and stewing for the rest of the trip. She had known for years that Sirius was abused by his parents, had known that he would eventually escape them to live with the Potters, but to see it for herself was more than she thought she could handle. Sirius Black was not a perfect man, but he was a kind, caring, loyal friend and the fact that people would hurt him for no other reason than because he didn't agree with blood prejudice made her angry. The man that went out of his way to take care of all of them after the horrors they had witnessed, horrors he too had witnessed, did not deserve to be treated that way.

She doesn't know what drives her to do it, but for the next few weeks she works in secret in the Room of Requirements, creating and ultimately charming a medallion for Sirius.

It takes longer than she expects to work up the nerve to give it to him, but when she does she feels a weight fall off her shoulders. She tries not to think about the emotions that flit across his face quickly, and once he accepts the gift, she turns and walks away without any intention of interacting with him again if she can help it.

And she manages it for the next four years. Every once and awhile she can't avoid interacting with one of them. Studying with Remus or partnering up with Lily. Lily tries on more than one occasion to make friends with her, but every time Hermione looks into those bright green eyes she feels only pain.

She also can't help but observe them. From Lily's kind, cheery demeanor to the unnaturally happy James Potter. It's hard to picture his son behaving the way he does to the extent he does, and yet there's still little things here and there that remind her of Harry, that are so obviously something he passed down to his son and it hurts. Additionally, to see Peter with the rest of the Marauders truly drives home the betrayal they all must have felt on that night. A part of her had always imagined the boy trailing after the group like an afterthought, like an entourage, but he is so heavily ingrained in their group, so a part of it that it only makes her that much angrier at his betrayal. Only makes it that much more tragic.

Remus had always been her favorite teacher growing up, and it had truly bothered her that they hadn't had the benefits of his teaching for more than a year. She had always seen him as a kind, thoughtful, soft spoken man unless provoked but seeing him now, as a boy, surrounded by people who loved him despite what he saw as his detractors, Hermione sees mischief playing just beneath the surface. She notices almost immediately as they begin their reign of "terror" how the boys are much less likely to get caught when Remus is involved, and how the more creative, less traceable ideas seems to come from him. He's a marauder through and through.

And then there's Sirius Black. Christmas and summers spent at Grimmauld place had given her the opportunity to hear all about Sirius Black and his gallivanting ways during his school years. He was the prototypical rich, boarding school kid, sneaking off to dark corners and abandoned classrooms to have fun with whatever bird would give him the time of day; and there were plenty. As he got older they began drinking on the weekend, never enough to remind her of the man she knew before the veil took him from them, but enough to see the cracks in his armor when he tried to sneak around the tower after a few too many. The cigarettes she knew he loved had only just started their fifth year and she wonders if they came with the stress of being disowned and left for dead by his mother. All in all there are two versions of Sirius Black in her mind. The boy before her, seemingly carefree as only a child can be and the man who would drink himself into a stupor before falling into the veil. She's not all that sure how to process it.

And then the day that Hermione has dreaded comes. Sirius shows up next to her table in the common room, asking her to talk in private. She agrees and they step out through the portrait hole, finding a nook down the hall where no one can bother them. He proceeds to thank her for the gift and inform her that she essentially saved his life. She does her best not to be overcome by emotion, but it's a very near thing. She tells him not to worry about it, she didn't do it for recognition and he simply tells her that he owes her. She tries to brush him off and walk away but she can feel things changing.

It scares her.

xXx

Things are getting harder and harder. It's only been a week or so since Sirius thanked her and in that time Lily and the Marauders have taken it upon themselves to try to weave her into their circle. They talk to her more, seek her out in the library and just that afternoon they moved from their spot down the table at lunch to sit around her. She walks to class with Lily and ends up spending the entire afternoon with her.

That night at dinner they walk in together and sit with the Marauders and she finds herself enjoying it a little too much. So much so that the next morning, Saturday morning, she gets up before everyone else, grabs her bag and heads down to the common room where Remus is already sitting. She greets him and he her, and when he asks where she's off to so early she tells him the library. It's not a total lie, she is going to stop in the library to pick up a few books, but ultimately it's not where she intends to spend the day.

Hermione does as she planned, stopping in the library and then ducking back out once she has what she's looking for. From there she makes her way to the seventh floor, where she paces in front of a particular section of wall until a door appears. As she steps in she takes in the familiar library of Number twelve Grimmauld Place.

As strange as some may have found it, this was her happy place. This was where she went when she couldn't sleep the summer before fifth year. This is the place she hid during gatherings, ultimately being discovered by Sirius and poked and prodded until she returned to the party on his arm.

Getting comfortable on the sofa, Hermione spends the first few hours rereading the books she's read a million times since first year. The very little she could find on time turners and time travel. It's as useless to her now as it was the first time she read it, but her desperation to find a way back before she's pulled in too deep is growing. Yesterday felt like nothing had in a long time. The love and affection of people who didn't even know her had broken through her carefully erected barriers and she was struggling to put them back up.

After a while she closes her book and sets it aside, leaning back on the sofa in an attempt to relax, to calm her racing mind. She thinks perhaps she needs a distraction and digs around in her bag for her favorite novel. She can't count the number of times she's reread it in the last five years, finding comfort in the familiar words. She flips it open, the soft cover giving under her fingers and shaking loose what she'd hidden in her purse so many years ago.

Hermione looks down at the white envelope, staring at it like she doesn't know what it is. She does though, of course she does. She hasn't thought about it much since she shoved it into the confines of her undetectable extension charm. The book had been in her purse numerous times, so she could only assume the letter got caught between the pages the last time.

Slowly, Hermione sets her book aside and reaches for the letter, reading her name in Sirius' neat elegant scrawl. She's come to realize that his handwriting only looks so neat and legible when he's being deliberate, taking his time, not letting his stream of consciousness overwhelm his other senses. Which can only mean that he had taken his time writing this, deliberately making it look pretty. He had once confided in her that he loved Shakespear. It was the only thing his parents had made him do that he had enjoyed. A Winter's Tale had always been one of his favorite plays, and so hearing her name always reminded him of happier times, when he could sit in the Gryffindor common room, blow off his homework and read from the book of plays someone very dear to him had bought him for Christmas one year. He still had the book, saved by Moony after he had gone to prison and he read from it nearly every night.

Hermione takes a deep breath and turns the envelope over, opening the flap carefully. She's not sure when she decided to open it, to read it, but apparently she had. It takes her a minute to gain the courage to pull the parchment out, but when she does, she flips it open and settles in to read.

My Dearest Hermione,

There are no words to describe the agony of watching you suffer over the last few years and knowing there isn't anything this old man can do for you. I'm not even sure my younger self did you any good either, but an old man can hope. There isn't much I can tell you, love, you'll have to figure out most of it on your own, but I have every confidence in you. There's not a witch or wizard alive who would bet against you.

You're going to feel awful for quite a while. I wish there was something I could do to fix that. You're going to be afraid, afraid of what's to come. Don't be, because as hard as it is for someone like you to understand, you can't fix everything. You can't save everyone and that's alright.

Don't be afraid of them, they'll never do anything to intentionally hurt you, they'll love you until the day you leave them and beyond.

Love,

Sirius Orion Black

The tears come unbidden, wetting the page and she sobs uncontrollably for what feels like hours.