Chapter Three

Safety

"Rosie!"

The blonde witch didn't even have to look up, rolling her eyes at Sirius Black's boisterous tone. He only sounded like that when he wanted something.

Turning to face him—and poor Remus Lupin standing at his shoulder, sweet Remus who seemed a saint for managing the patience to put up with Sirius' drama and antics—she arched a brow. "Wha's it you want, Black?"

Sirius feigned a gasp—drama, check—and shook his head, his expression wounded. "Such accusation. And here I thought we were friends."

Remus uttered a resigned, breathy snicker, dropping his gaze to the floor as he shook his head. "Think she's been on to you since before we even walked in, mate."

"Fine." Sirius gave an eye-roll of his own. "We're looking for a girl—"

"Oh, so the rumors about you two aren't true, then?" she asked with a smirk.

The pair of wizards exchanged a glance. Had everyone known before now except for them, or had someone seen that kiss, and word had traveled faster than they'd thought it might?

A wicked half-grin curving his lips, Sirius spread his hands. "I'm just an equal-opportunity hedonist, love."

Despite letting out a surprised chuckle at the professed hedonist's words, Remus stepped past him to lean his elbows on the bar. Clasping his long-fingered hands before him, he met Rosmerta's friendly-but-guarded gaze with an imploring look.

Sirius almost hated that her change in demeanor was not only immediate, but obvious. Remus' puppy-eyes—and yes, the irony of a werewolf possessing such an innocent and soulful trait was not lost on him—always saved the day when Sirius Black's infamous flirtatious overtures failed. Perhaps he should stop being so overt, he considered, if his targets saw his attempts coming . . . .

Nah. Not being over the top didn't sound fun at all.

Once he was certain he had her undivided attention, Remus dropped his voice just low enough that she would hear him over the din, yet that his words were not likely to be overheard by anyone else. "Rosie, please. This could be very important. The girl we're looking for . . . she could be in danger. Did any young woman you don't know rent a room here in the last hour?"

"Wha' sort of danger?"

Remus remained silent, only lifting his brows in an eloquent expression.

Rosmerta fidgeted in place. Her gaze snapping from Remus to Sirius—who had dropped his usual act to give her an earnest look, and if Sirius was being, well, serious, about anything—and back, she sighed.

Dropping her attention to the glass she was cleaning, the barmaid shrugged. "I suppose you boys could check the ledger. There's a . . . chance the last person to check in is the one you're looking for."

Smiling gratefully, Remus reached for the book. Sirius looked past him to the witch behind the counter. "I could kiss you."

She didn't even bat an eye. "Keep your distance if you don't want to part with your bits, hedonist."

Hermione was so deeply asleep she wasn't aware of the two people hovering over her until the squeak of a floorboard cut into whatever tangled mess of sounds and images she might've been dreaming. Her combat instincts kicked in even before she'd fully awoken.

Snatching her wand from under her pillow—bloody hell, when had she even put that there?—she scrambled backward out of the bed, hitting the floor on her side with her weapon trained on them as her eyes opened.

Her very bewildered gaze jumped back and forth between the wizards as she clearly tried to process what was happening. That they obviously restrained themselves from drawing their wands on her, in turn—they did have her outnumbered, after all—spoke volumes about their intentions. Seeing their faces, so unweathered by the years and troubles that she knew weighed on them when she'd first met them twelve years from now, brought the day's events thus far tumbling back to her.

Seeing their hands in the air, that they were making no attempt to move toward her while she was so visibly spooked, reminded her that if there were any two people who wouldn't harm a frightened woman . . . .

Though, if she were thinking clearly, she'd find it odd to think of herself as a woman in context to Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, given that she'd been only a child for a large portion of her friendships with them.

She lowered her wand slowly. The adrenaline seemed to wash out of her system in a blink the moment she realized she wan't being threatened and the pain from her injuries screamed through her body, though it was nothing compared to the pain of realizing that she shouldn't have this chance to look on them, not when she'd had to suffer their deaths.

Wincing, Hermione dropped her head as an awful tremor shook her limbs, a pained gasp tearing out of her.

Without a word, Remus hurried around the bed. Carefully lowering himself beside her, he held up his hands, once more. "Where are you hurt?"

My head? My heart? My very bleedin' soul? "My back, mostly," she managed in a shaky whisper.

"May I?"

In too much agony to care about her state of undress—and, really, with how little she was wearing, they'd probably already caught an eyeful during her spectacular tumble from the bed—she nodded. God, she'd kill for an aspirin right now.

"I left the door unlocked, didn't I?" she asked, closing her eyes as she felt the fabric of her t-shirt lift away from her skin.

"Didn't even need to charm it open," Sirius offered with a nod of his own. "Seems a strange slip for someone who was so eager to run and hide."

"I wasn't thinking clearly at the time." It wasn't an easy admission, but she already knew that was probably the simplest answer she'd have for them. "Rosmerta. She told you where to find me?"

Remus' brows arched upward at her tone—if he didn't know any better, he'd think this Hermione Dagworth, if the name in the ledger was her real name, even, was fixing to give Rosmerta a good, old fashioned arse-kicking. "Not exactly. She thought you might be in danger. Sirius? This isn't good."

Hermione tried hard not to roll her eyes at the sudden scrutiny as Sirius crossed the room to look at her exposed back, as well. What a day to wear thong. To their credit, neither wizard mentioned her knickers.

"Oh, that's . . . yes, very not good," Sirius managed, his handsome features twisted in a grimace at the spectacular array of bruises. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"

How much time have you got? she thought. Of course, all the time in the world wouldn't help, since she couldn't exactly be honest with them. "I sort of fell out of a second story window."

The men shared a cringing glance at that. "Dear God, woman!"

Sirius frowned, despite feeling sympathy for the pain she must be in. "Look, it's obvious you've been through some shit today, but we didn't come to chat or play nursemaid."

"I know, I know," she said, even as she pointed at her little bag on the night table. "Please, there's some healing salves in there. Well, somewhere."

Picking up the tiny bag, Sirius opened it, peering inside as he talked. "What d' you mean, some . . . ? Oh."

Hermione put her head down, bracing already for the pain that would accompany Remus working the salve into her bruised skin. She missed Sirius pulling this and that out of her bag—things that had nothing to do with his search—before he found the salve and tossed it to Remus.

As Remus started the application as delicately as he could, Sirius kept on rummaging. Books . . . quills . . . another set of trainers . . . undergarments . . . . He frowned thoughtfully as he pulled something out for closer inspection.

Glancing up, Remus caught Sirius examining a shiny, pale-pink bra he'd clearly just taken from the bag. Catching Sirius' gaze, the werewolf mouthed the words Stop that!

The witch started talking to distract herself from the pain and awkwardness of the moment. "You want to know how I know you, right?" she asked, her abrupt question causing Sirius to fumble as he hurried to stuff the satiny item back into the bag.

"Yes." Remus glared at Sirius as the dark-haired man set down the bag and tried for a look of perfect innocence that failed miserably. "You already know who we are, what of you? Is your name Hermione Dagworth?"

This, at least, she thought with some measure of relief, she could answer honestly. "Hermione, yes. Dagworth, no. It's just a surname I supplied for my own protection."

"All right, Hermione." Sirius had no way of knowing that she recognized his scolding tone, that she was already bracing for a lecture even as the pain in her back was starting to ease. "We still need an answer. How is it you know us? You a diviner, or something?"

Oh, Lord, that's it! I hate it, but that's it! Sirius had just supplied her with a perfect way to tell them what she knew without revealing anything about the Time Turner! And she'd only have to fib a little bit!

"Sort of," she said, glad they couldn't see her face just now. She had a feeling that if she had to look at them as she spoke, they would know immediately that she was only telling partial truths. "It's not something that normally happens to me, but I've seen you. Both of you. And I saw what would've happened if you hadn't caught Peter in time. You did stop him, yeah? You got your friends safe?"

Maybe there was a chance she hadn't completely destroyed—

"Yes." Sirius' simple answer confirmed that she had single-handedly subverted the timeline from which she'd come. Wasn't that just fantastic? "What else have you seen?"

"Nothing. I only know the chain of events that would've happened if you hadn't stopped him, I shouldn't say anything more on that, now should I?"

"Is that why you need protection? Because of what you've seen?"

She shrugged, biting her lip. Now that the pain had subsided, but Remus was continuing to work her skin beneath his hands, she wasn't sure she could speak without uttering some wildly inappropriate sound.

"I'm okay, now," she forced out in a whisper.

Remus gave himself a shake and sat back, pulling her shirt down into place. "Right" He cleared his throat and nodded. "Sorry."

Sirius turned a scowl on the other man. Really? He was standing right here! Not that he could blame him for taking the opportunity to paw at her, but still . . . .

Hermione eased herself to sit up, moving gingerly. Though she opened her eyes, she looked toward the window instead of at either of them. It was dark out, now. She probably hadn't slept very long at all before they'd tracked her down.

"I'm a Muggleborn," she said with a shrug. "Normally, that wouldn't mean much, as V . . . ." She reminded herself she could not openly say that name, not in this time. "As You Know Who is pretty much gunning for all of us, anyway, but . . . . He saw me. He knows I had something to do with him not catching your friends. So, yeah, kinda feeling a need to cover my arse. He can't find me. The things I've seen about him, that I know about him from what I've witnessed . . . ."

Even as she spoke, however, the reality of her situation started to sink in. She might not be able to return home, and even if she managed, it would not be the 'home' she remembered. She tried . . . picturing a world where the First War raged on beyond this night, yet the Second had probably never occurred. She tried picturing Harry's face without his trademark scar.

She'd not realized just how symbolic Harry's lighting bolt scar had become for her. Imaging him without it brought everything crashing down on her shoulders.

Before she knew it, before she could really stop it from happening, she was sobbing. Dragging in great, shivering gulps of air, she shook her head, trying to get the words out so they might at least understand her sudden breakdown.

"It's all gone! Ev-everything! My whole world is gone." Sniffling, she shook her head. "I keep blaming myself, but I did not send myself here! I didn't—I didn't!"

Sirius met Remus' concerned gaze over the top of the hysterical witch's head. Frowning, he lowered himself to sit on his knees in front of her. She seemed . . . heartbroken. Scared. Troubled by the things she'd seen. And on top of all that, she was alone. The War had certainly done a number on her.

Rolling his eyes, he shifted closer. Sirius slid his arms around her and guided her head to his shoulder. "Okay, then," he said when she responded by wrapping her arms around him in a suffocating hug—little thing was much stronger than she appeared—as she carried on in muted sobs.

Remus watched her, his attention tracing over her as she cried in Sirius' arms. The way she'd forced herself to function as injured as she was, how she'd snapped directly to an offensive posture the moment she'd become aware of them, despite her half-conscious state . . . . This was not just any witch.

This was a fighter. Dare he think it, a soldier.

And what she was suffering . . . this was more than a loss of loved ones. More than a fear of You Know Who. Something terrible had befallen her, something that had her grasping at anything to cope.

Swallowing hard, he looked away. If she was right, if she'd seen things that were supposed to have happened, if she knew things, if the Dark Lord did see her as responsible for him missing the chance to end little Harry's life . . . .

Exhaling slow, he lifted his gaze to the pair before him, once more. He was a bit startled to find the other man already looking him in the eyes. Sirius' expression read clearly that he'd made the same realizations about the mysterious witch.

"I know," Sirius said to Remus with a nod before he slid his hands over Hermione's shoulders and pulled her back enough to peer into her face. Her red, runny, sobbing mess of a face. "Hey? Hey! It'll be okay. You're going to come with us, yeah?"

"What?" she asked, turning her head, she glanced at Remus before regarding Sirius once more.

"It's going to be all right," the dark-haired man insisted. "We'll keep you safe."

She dragged in a few quick, hiccuping breaths as she stared into his eyes. "Safe," she echoed, the word tumbling out in a fragile, barely audible whisper.

Dropping her arms from Sirius, she lifted one hand to wipe at her cheeks. She nearly jumped out of her skin as Remus clasped her free hand in his own.

Shifting in place, she looked to his fingers wrapped around hers. God, her hands seemed so small in comparison.

"It's okay if you don't want to come with us," the werewolf said, aware of the danger he, himself, posed, simply being what he was, but she needed help, and it was painfully obvious this woman literally had no one. "But Sirius is right, we'll do our best to keep you safe."

Remus wouldn't say it, but he was also uneasy at their offer. Not because of anything to do with her, but because he wasn't so certain they were what anyone would think of as safe.