While Grimmauld Place was the Order's headquarters during the Second War, during the First it was the property of Walburga Black. There is no set location in canon for an Order headquarters during the First War, if they even had one. I am pointing this out because there are too many instances like this, where fanfic writers come up with locations/details of their own because they do not exist in canon, but then a reader will see another author using a different location/detail and yell at them for being wrong, when in fact the information they're insisting is canon is actually just the product of a different writer's imagination.

Chapter Nine

Better to Ask Forgiveness

Hermione looked about the place as they popped out of Apparition. Sirius and Remus had taken her side-along the moment they'd dropped the books off at the Shack—aware having books on time magic would raise too many eyebrows. Well . . . looked about after taking a few seconds to get her bearings.

It was obvious they were in another wizarding village, but which one she couldn't be sure. The eclectic, mismatched architecture of the homes—some which seemed to be standing only by literal magic—the cobblestone roads, the locals clad in robes.

She'd been to Ottery St. Catchpole, Upper Flagley, Tinworth, Godric's Hollow, and—of course—Hogsmeade. While the place looked like it could be any of those villages in passing, she knew she'd never been here before.

She wasn't at all ashamed of how she tightened her grip on both their arms as they began walking, tugging her effortlessly into step between them. Sure, she didn't believe Remus and Sirius would be willingly or knowingly walking her into anything dangerous, but the things about the area which stood out as unfamiliar were simply another reminder of her circumstances.

"Where are we?"

"Mould on the Wold," Sirius answered easily.

Despite her certainty they would not do anything to jeopardize her safety, it was still a relief to her that she registered no subterfuge in his voice. She did, however, recognize the name, and despite them telling her precisely whom she would meet, the recognition did not offer relief.

"This is where Dumbledore lived as a child," she murmured, her glances about wide-eyed now.

"Is there anything you don't know about us all?" Remus asked, sounding mildly flabbergasted.

Biting her lip, the witch shrugged. "Back home, someone published his biography. Rather eye-opening."

"I'd imagine," Sirius said, a touch wide-eyed himself as he shook his head. "You are going to need to pretend you know little about him. He gets suspicious of people who seem to know too much."

She nodded. That sounded about right. "I'll be careful. I just never thought he'd return to a place with such bad memories for him."

"I think that's precisely why he chose here," the animagus said, shrugging. "No one would look for him here. Where better to meet with members of a secret order?"

Not unlike the DA meetings in the Room of Requirement, she considered. Made perfect sense.

"Our story is that you're a Muggle-born diviner, you don't wish to say anything more than that for the sake protecting your family," Remus began, reestablishing the parts of the fib already agreed upon, "and when you ran into us in Hogsmeade, the rest unfolded almost exactly as it truly happened—"

"Sans Time Turner revelation." Hermione sighed, nodding again.

"Exactly. When you ran into us in Hogsmeade, you recognized us from your vision, and tried to run off because you were frightened—"

This time it was Sirius who interrupted, by snorting a laugh. "Doesn't seem like all that much frightens this one."

"On the contrary, sir, I am frightened by a great many things." Hermione couldn't help but smile at the offhanded compliment. "I simply hide it well."

Remus gave them both a chilly sidelong glance. "May I continue?"

"Sorry," the witch and animagus muttered in the same breath.

"We will say that when we found you after turning over Peter, you willingly took Veritaserum—supplied by me—so that we could determine your forthrightness. Sirius and I back you, entirely, on divulging only what is necessary, and in personal matters, divulging only that with which you're comfortable."

It was good. A good story, she considered, a pensive frown tugging at her lips. It covered all the bases, and sounded like something Dumbledore would swallow. He was a suspicious, discerning creature, but he took his allies at their word if they tended to take him at his, and she already knew that at this point in history, the Marauders were definitely faithful to the elder wizard's perceived forthrightness, to use Remus' lovely choice of wording.

They seemed to be wandering all over the village, and she realized belatedly that it was intentional. They wanted to be as honest as possible when they met with Dumbledore, and this way, they could say they made sure she got turned around and would not be able to find her way back to the meeting place without them. She knew it was likely under a fidelius charm, which was also why they'd not Apparated directly there, but to a random location in the middle of Mould on the Wold.

Everything Remus had said would cover Albus Dumbledore's logic points. He'd agree the families of known Muggle-borns were already vulnerable to Voldemort's campaign of terror, thus the family of a Muggle-born who posed a direct threat to him would be in especially grave danger. The only way even the older, even more suspicious and calculating Dumbledore she remembered from the future would permit such a thing would be if that were the only way to defeat Voldemort, and since she was willing to hand over the information, that removed such a tack as an option and with it, any need to press her for information on it.

She looked every inch the average witch just now, timeless in a sense, even what Muggle attire she had with her couldn't be rightly dated on-sight—items that had been as widely worn twenty years from now as they were in 1981. As long as she was careful not to use any turns of phrase that were too modern . . . . Except . . . .

There was one thing Dumbledore might detect that could give them away.

Digging in her heels, she pulled them to a halt. "Hang on!"

Startled by the abrupt stop, they both turned to look at her. "What's wrong?" Sirius asked, while Remus opted for a slightly more astute response of, "What've we missed?"

Hermione glanced about the street, ensuring there were no passersby close enough to overhear before answering in a hissing whisper, "The Time Turner!"

The men exchanged a look. "What about it?"

"We should've left it with the books!"

Sirius frowned, arching a brow. "We always think the Shack is safe, but we've no idea if anyone might one day feel brave enough to venture in there; better we not've left that lying about for anyone to chance stumbling upon, yeah?"

"You're right. I know you are, I just . . . ." She folded her lips, appearing exasperated with herself for a moment as she considered the problem in a context that would make sense to them. "I'm not certain it being in my possession will be a problem, exactly, but when I was granted the other one during third year—"

"Merlin's beard, they gave such a valuable artifact to a 13-year-old?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Technically, I was 14, and I wasn't going to mention this, but that was also the year I met the two of you for the first time, and you both said I was the brightest witch of my age you'd ever met. Well, Remus said it and you agreed after I used it to save you from being sentenced to a Dementor's kiss—" She cut herself off, realizing her nervous babbling had given them entirely too much, completely unnecessary, information.

"A Dementor's kiss? Me? What could I possibly've done to—"

"You were wrongfully accused of Peter's crime." She hadn't wanted to say it, but she knew if she didn't give him the honest truth, the question would hang in the air, unresolved, bothering him, possibly creating tension and distraction where there needn't be any. Hermione tacked on before he could get too riled by the revelation, "But that's all different now, remember?"

Sirius nodded, squaring his jaw. "You're right. It is." He granted her a vicious grin. "Still going to hex the shit out of him if I ever see his miserable face again."

Remus scowled. "I'll hold him down for you."

She looked from one man to the other, and back. "My point was . . . when I was granted a Time Turner at Hogwarts, they were making a huge exception for me so that I could attend extra classes because they recognized my potential. At first, I'd thought only Professor McGonagall knew; as Head of Gryffindor House, it seemed appropriate, since she was essentially the supervisor of my studies, however when it came time to help you, Dumbledore didn't hesitate in telling me how many turns of the device would be enough to save you."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she shook her head. "Perhaps I should've realized he'd have known I had it. He was the headmaster, he probably had to sign off on it, too." Her face fell then. "It might've even been his idea in the first place, he must've deliberately meant for me to learn everything I did that year."

Once more, Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance. "What?"

"Um . . . ." Giving herself a shake, she went on. "Sorry. I'm just sometimes caught off-guard by the awareness that he was a man who never did anything without a purpose. But my point is, he knew. He knew I had the Time Turner on my person. He locked Harry and me in the room—I wouldn't have been able to go up to my room and retrieve it from my trunk. Of course, he could've just assumed I would never leave it unattended, but I am wondering now if he might've sensed the specific energy of time magic coming from it."

"That—yes, that would be . . . difficult to explain," Remus agreed, nodding. "Wait. If he knew about Time Turners being real, why didn't he just use one after the . . . we'll call it 'the incident' and stop You Know Who?"

"Believe me," Hermione assured with another shrug, "that's a question a lot of people who're in the loop on the existence of Time Turners ask. Regardless, this Time Turner is from a now-different timeline. And it's been thrown so out-of-sync with the time it belongs to, we can't be sure using it won't end in some horrific disaster. We need to hide it."

Remus cast his gaze skyward as he considered their chances. "I don't know that would be enough. Albus Dumbledore is quite possibly the most powerful wizard of our time—"

"Sort of begs the question why he doesn't simply off You-Know-Who himself." Hermione looked up from her thoughtlessly voiced internal commentary to find them both staring down at her. "What?"

"You-Know-Who is too slippery. He would never permit himself to get trapped into a duel against Dumbledore."

"I suppose." She remembered as she spoke that Dumbledore had known about the horcruxes. He must've realized that even had he killed Voldemort, the bastard would return. The entire prophecy hinged on Harry surviving, on Harry becoming a horcrux, himself. On a new battle in a time when the horcruxes had been located and destroyed. On Harry's willingness to sacrifice himself. She choked back a sound of anger and continued calmly. "The prophecy that set all this in motion is moot, now, anyway. It was self-fulfilling, only coming into being because he tried to kill Harry. That means new rules are in play, here. The information I have will allow for a level playing field between them . . . we just have to find a way to get You-Know-Who to face Dumbledore."

"One headache at a time, yeah?" Remus said, wide-eyed as he breathed an incredulous snicker. "As I was saying, Dumbledore is powerful. If we conceal the Time Turner, he might sense something being hidden, even if he isn't sure what. That one misstep could sabotage whatever trust you're hoping to build with him. How do we do this?"

"I know!" Sirius smiled brilliantly at them both. "We cast concealment charms, as in plural. We each cast one on it, layering the effect and mingling our magical energies. We'll effectively be concealing our concealment charms."

After a heartbeat, Hermione smiled back. "And you like to pretend you're not smart."

"Well, life's a lot less fun when people expect you to have all the answers and always know what you're doing."

"All right. Let's stop somewhere first, do this in private. I don't like the thought that we even had this discussion out on the street."

"As I've no idea where I am, you two lead the way," she said, once more curling her hands around their arms.

Remus guided them to a narrow alleyway between two buildings that appeared ready to topple over in different directions and down the end of the passageway. It was a dead end, and no one would be able to sneak up on them from the direction they'd just come, since positioning themselves in a circle meant at least one pair of eyes could clearly see the mouth of the alley.

Hermione removed the artifact from her bag, her fingers trembling a little. This was all adding up to a very nerve-wracking situation, and she'd not even entered the same room as the too-perceptive Albus Dumbledore, yet.

Without waiting for word from either of them, Remus cast his charm first. Sirius went next. He didn't know if it was a strange sync among them, or common sense, that Hermione cast hers last. Her magical energy was the one that would be unfamiliar to Dumbledore, so hers layering theirs was the surest way to keep him unaware of their reluctant duplicity.

When she dropped the Time Turner back into her bag, she was still a bit shaken. She didn't want to be—she hated seeming fragile in even the most remote measure—but it had been a hell of a time since she'd landed here and everything that happened only served to make it all more real.

"You're getting too nervous," Sirius observed, once more stating the obvious needlessly. "I can help."

Hermione's shoulders slumped at the mere offer. "How?"

Taking a deep breath, he looked over at Remus and then returned his attention to her. "If you'll both forgive me for this?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look at Remus. "Wha—?"

Her words were cut off by Sirius' mouth covering hers. At the very contact of his lips on hers, the air rushed from her lungs and into him, causing a warm shiver to rock through them both.

She all but fell limp against him, giving herself over to it as he kissed her, feverish and hungry. Her hands fell around his hips of their own volition, fingers gripping into the leather of his robes. She became only vaguely aware of the wall at her back, of his palms pressing to the brick on either side of her head.

Remus watched the display—painfully cognizant of why Sirius had asked for forgiveness—feeling a wash of warmth and irritation through him in equal measure. Envy. Of each of them.

He might've even uttered a sound very unlike him. A growl, rumbling low and impossibly quiet in the back of his throat. He was no different than Sirius. No better. But perhaps not quite as brave. He wanted them both. And wanted them both to himself. What a strange twenty-four hours this had been.

The sound working its way from her throat as the mindless snogging went on far longer than necessary might have something to do with his possessive—albeit mixed—emotions.

Sirius raised a hand from the wall, blindly beckoning Remus closer.

The werewolf couldn't resist the lure of that gesture. Moving nearer, he molded himself to Sirius from behind. His greater height permitted him to lean over Sirius' shoulder easily, yet he wasn't sure what to expect.

Sirius broke the kiss, grasping Hermione's jaw in gentle fingers as she caught her breath. He titled her head to one side, bearing the side of her neck to Remus.

Remus felt the air stick in his throat, his heart hammering against the warmth of Sirius' back as he stared at the soft spot just beneath her earlobe. He didn't know if it was some buried instinct tied to what he was, or merely the heat of the moment, but he wanted nothing more than to feel his teeth scraping her flesh.

He ducked his head lower, still, brushing her skin with his lips and the tip of his tongue. She had yet to open her eyes, but he was aware of her nodding, urging him to go on. Exhaling against that spot of damp warmth, and reveling in the way she once more shivered, he leaned tighter against Sirius—Sirius who let out a content sigh as his head lolled against Remus' shoulder—and did what he'd pictured, dragging the very edge of his teeth over the pulse in her throat.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to stay here with them like this, their bodies pressing hers to the wall, the sensation of Remus' mouth at her throat and taste of Sirius' lips still on hers causing a sweet warm tingling low in her body.

And, for a precious few heartbeats, she couldn't seem to remember what it was they were supposed to be doing instead of this. Couldn't seem to even think of why there was anything to do instead of this.

How had this come about so quickly? Oh, right, Sirius being his cheeky, young-Sirius-self, had sought to distract and calm her with a kiss. He probably hadn't imagined she'd respond so eagerly . . . that he'd get carried away returning her response.

She hated the voice of reason piping up in the back of her head—this was too good. She could only imagine how Sirius felt being in the middle, tight between Remus' lanky, leanly muscled form and hers.

But that voice of reason was piping up. And it would. Not. Shut. Up.

Her voice escaped in a breathy whisper, "I'm much . . . much calmer, now. I think we should get to that meeting of yours."

Laughing—a gorgeously throaty and whimsical sound—Sirius said, "No you don't. You think staying here like this best idea in the world."

"Oh, there is part of me that thinks that, definitely, however . . . ." Oh, dear God, Remus needed to stop nipping at her earlobe like that. Such a simple thing, but it made her insides quiver and the muscles between her thighs tense of their own accord. "We . . . made a plan. We need to stick with it."

With a groan, Remus lifted his head. "She's right. Besides," he said, sparing a moment to let out a low, steadying breath, "we're getting caught up in the moment. After we've had the meeting, and collected our senses, we can determine if what's happening now is something we all want to revisit."

Sirius made a thoughtful noise as Remus stepped back, allowing himself to move with the werewolf, his back still against Remus' chest. "I know my answer will be the same as it is right now, it's you two fools I've got to wait for."

Hermione was aware a blush was flaring in her cheeks as she watched them. As she watched the way Sirius cupped Remus' jaw with his hand and leaned up to kiss him. As the absence of their bodies over hers suddenly caused a rush of cold to sweep over her. The chemistry they had . . . would this have been inevitable in her old life, had they met in a different time and place—say, when she was older, an adult in her own right as she was now, and anywhere that wasn't tied to loss and wrongful accusations?

Was this unavoidable now that they were attainable?

It had barely been twenty-four hours. How was her heart already so confused? Though, she knew if she even thought of mentioning that, Sirius would blithely point out that it wasn't her heart that had been in control just now.

Pushing away from the wall, she smoothed her hands over her robes and waited for Remus and Sirius to break apart. This was all happening so fast, she thought as they once more claimed each of her arms and started back through the alleyway toward their meeting with Dumbledore. She was supposed to be finding a safe way back home.

They emerged and started winding her through the streets for the sake of misdirection, once more. Her thoughts were troubled again, but this time over something other than facing Albus Dumbledore and hoping to hell he didn't see right through their charade. She had a clear path. Help them, get home if possible. That was it. The ultimate goal was to help them maintain this new timeline and then, whether she liked it or not, leave them behind to return to her own. And her heart ached at the prospect already after so short a time with them.

How on earth was she supposed to let them go if everything worked out as planned?