CHAPTER 14

Hermione looked around the room. For a brief, hopeful moment, she wondered if the device hadn't worked. She still saw the dozens of portraits on the walls with Headmasters staring down at her. She almost felt her heart lift, but then she saw it: the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. He was looking at her with a serene smile. She looked around the room again and saw that it was completely different. It was Headmistress McGonagall's office now. She looked at the chair behind the heavy wooden desk, but it was empty. Her gaze traveled around the room until the landed on a familiar face.

"Remus!" she choked, running up to him and wrapping her arms around him, now sobbing uncontrollably.

It was not the boy she had befriended. It was the man she knew, the man who had taught her in her third year, the man who braved werewolf dens for the Order of the Phoenix. Remus wrapped his arms around her back and held her as she cried, her chest heaving in great sobs.

"It's the same? He's still gone?" she said.

"He's gone," Remus said softly, and the last feeble hope she had collapsed inside her.

"How did you know I would be here?" she asked, pulling back from him and wiping her eyes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me about you when I signed on to teach in your Third year. I had to act like I knew nothing from the first day of class," he explained, holding her hands and looking at her. "I couldn't even believe it. The girl who'd time traveled back to my seventh year would now be my student at Hogwarts. I've been waiting for four years to find you here, to finally talk to you about everything that happened."

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, sniffling, gripping his hands tightly. "I just . . . can't believe it's over."

"Neither could he, Hermione," Remus continued, and Hermione fell into his chest again to cry. "None of us really knew where you'd gone, and I couldn't really explain. Not just because I'd promised you, but because I didn't really understand it myself. He was heartbroken. We all were! But he took it hard. He loved you so much, Hermione."

She only cried harder.

"And then in your third year… Hermione, you're lucky you've changed a lot since then," said Remus with a low chuckle. "He didn't recognize you at first, but I saw the exact moment he realized who you were. He looked at you like he'd never seen anything like you. He told me later that he began to put the pieces together that night, little things that Dumbledore had said over the years, things I'd said. He knew he'd have to wait. He knew someday he'd be able to talk to you about it. Merlin, he couldn't stand it, waiting for your seventh year. But then, before… before you… then he…"

"Then he died," said Hermione in a low, dejected voice.

Sirius had known her for two years without being able to tell her what they were. And now, she was back, and he was gone. Dead. Sent behind the Veil by his cousin. Hermione sank to the floor, and Remus sat down with her, still stroking her back, and the tears started falling again.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry all over you," she said through tears.

"It's ok, Hermione. Let it out," he said soothingly.

She lay against him, crying hard and reliving the last six months of her life over and over in her mind. The laughter with James and Lily, the terror of the Valentine's Day party, the sweetness of lovemaking with Sirius. She just wanted him back. After what seemed like an eternity, she had cried all that she could. She sat up from Remus's chest, willing herself to accept that she was back in her own time, where she was meant to be, and Sirius was gone.

"Thank you, Remus," she said, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes.

"Of course," he said, ruffling her hair and helping her up. "Go on down to the Gryffindor common room. I daresay you've missed your friends, even though they haven't had a chance to miss you."

Hermione smiled at him and nodded, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he said, and she turned. "Thanks for the potion. It still works."

Hermione laughed, her eyes still full of sadness, and trotted down the stairs. The walk to Gryffindor tower seemed to take ages, and she kept noticing subtle differences in the hallways and portraits from Sirius's time. She whispered the password to the Fat Lady, amazed that she still remembered it, and climbed inside. Harry and Ron looked up from their chess game and smiled.

"Hey, Hermione. We thought you were off to the library," said Harry.

"Oh!" she said, running up to them and hugging them both.

"Merlin! What's into you?" Ron asked.

"I just . . . I just love you two is all," she said, biting her lip before dashing up to her dormitory.

She fell onto her bed, still filled with sadness but unable to cry any longer. She had shed every tear in her body on Remus's shoulder in McGonagall's office. She was glad to have Harry and Ron back in her life, but she was depressed to be in a world without Dumbledore, and especially without Sirius. For months in the past, she had thought about telling Harry everything she could about his parents, about their pranks and their sweet kisses. She wanted to tell him about the motorbike Harry's grandfather gave to Sirius, about Mrs. Potter's cooking and Mr. Potter's kind but mischievous personality. But now, she didn't think she could bear it. Not after everything that had happened. How could she possibly explain? How could she tell Harry that she'd known his parents for months and hadn't tried to save them? For all she'd been warned not to try, it now felt like a horrible misstep. She should have done more. She should have stayed longer. She should have saved all of their lives and then lived happily ever after with Sirius. She heard footsteps entering the dormitory, and she half expected to turn and see Lily and Amanda. Her heart sank when she realized it was Lavender and Parvati, who smiled at her before sitting on Lavender's bed to chat.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry and Ron were talking animatedly about the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw game that would happen that afternoon. Hermione was smiling, trying to be interested, but failing miserably. At least they wouldn't expect her to pay attention; they knew she didn't care for Quidditch. Hermione felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked up to see the Headmistress.

"Miss Granger, could I have a moment with you in my office?" she asked.

Harry and Ron looked at her quizzically, but Hermione just stood and followed. They climbed the winding staircase and she sat in the chair across from McGonagall.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Granger," she said with a smile. "Remus told me you had come back."

Hermione was glum, staring at her lap.

"Professor, is there any way… could I go back again?" asked Hermione, knowing that she was stupid to ask but unable to help herself.

"Oh, Miss Granger," said McGonagall sympathetically, and Hermione thought she might have heard a waver in her professor's voice. "Even if I were willing to send you back again, I couldn't. That was the last Time Turner in existence."

Hermione just nodded, not knowing what else to say. She stood up to leave, willing her feet to carry her forward.

"Miss Granger?" Headmistress McGonagall said, and Hermione paused. "Are you planning to tell your friends about this experience?"

Hermione shook her head no, and the Headmistress nodded.

"It's just as well," she said, standing and patting Hermione on the shoulder. "I don't think I'd want to relive it either if I were you."

And Hermione looked up to meet McGonagall's eyes and saw in them complete understanding. She wasn't stupid. She knew what Hermione had left behind. The Headmistress gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile and Hermione left for the Common Room.

In those first few days, Hermione felt like a shadow of her old self. She kept expecting to see James in the seat next to her in Potions or in his favorite armchair in the Common Room. She kept thinking the bed in the corner of the dormitory was Lily's, and most of all, she kept expecting to see Sirius's handsome face and long black hair waiting for her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry and Ron were insistent with prodding questions trying to find out what was wrong, but she just put them off, slowly returning to her normal self over time as she focused on N.E.W.T. exams and on Voldemort and his Horcruxes.

The three of them stayed at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the summer, Hermione spending all her time in the library studying up for their adventure or else spending time with Remus, who had become a very close friend and mentor. Hermione followed Harry and Ron every time they went out looking for trouble, as she felt a certain responsibility for keeping them safe. She knew that's what Sirius would want her to do. They had just returned from a particularly grueling escapade, late one night, where they had managed to destroy Helga Hufflepuff's cup, one of the vessels in which Voldemort deposited part of his soul.

Harry and Ron looked ashen faced and exhausted. They headed up to bed without a word to anyone. Hermione collapsed on the sofa next to Remus, who wrapped an arm around her comfortingly.

"I found an article you might like," he said, handing her a yellowing excerpt from a journal.

"Damocles Belby Discovers Cure for Lycanthropy," she began. "Mister Belby credits his discovery to the clumsiness of a fellow student at Hogwarts. She had accidentally melted her own cauldron and was thus too frustrated to continue with her own project, so Damocles thought to invite her to help him with his. With her help, as she wrote down each step her performed, he was able to both master and remember the potion's formula. 'The girl left so quickly after we were finished, I never got her name,' Mister Belby says. 'I would love to thank her someday.'"

Hermione giggled and looked at Remus.

"I have a feeling I know who the girl was," he said in a friendly tone. "I never knew until your Third year why you so vehemently refused to take credit for such an incredible discovery," he added.

"Well, it would have been quite odd if, in History of Magic, Professor Binns started lecturing on Seventh year student Hermione Granger inventing the Wolfsbane potion in the late seventies," said Hermione.

"It's not a very common name, is it?" Remus joked. "I've got something else you might like as well."

He put a hand into the pocket of his shabby overcoat and pulled out a picture. It nearly took her breath away. It was of Sirius, who was smiling brilliantly at the camera. He had one arm looped over James's shoulder, and they were standing in front of the motorbike Harry's father had given them for Christmas. Hermione held the picture in her hand, letting her fingers graze his face. He gave her a wink from within the frame, and tears threatened her again.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry," said Remus, seeing her stricken face. "I should have realized better than to give you this."

He was reaching out to take the picture back, but she pulled it away from him.

"No!" she said. "No, please, this is wonderful. It's perfect. I haven't got any pictures of him… of any of you, really."

She gazed at the picture a while longer, feeling Remus's familiar, comforting arm wrap around her shoulder. They had been through so much together.

"I'm sorry, Remus," she said in a whisper, staring at the photo in her hand. "I know you lost them, too."

He gave her a sad smile. They both watched James and Sirius in the picture, laughing when Sirius ruffled James's hair and almost got a punch in the jaw for it.

"One after another, I lost all of you. First you, then James and Lily. Then Peter, then Sirius," said Remus softly, and he paused before adding, "Twice."

Hermione nodded miserably.

"It's still so hard to believe he's gone. How could someone so… so alive…" said Hermione, but she trailed off.

"He really was a light in a dark world, wasn't he?" Remus replied thoughtfully.

They sat together, both staring at the photograph in Hermione's had.

"We're just a miserable, sad, old lot, aren't we?" he said, nudging her with his elbow, and she gave a watery laugh.

Hermione stood from her chair, wiping her eyes and stretching.

"I'm off to bed," she said.

"And I'm off to meet Tonks," he replied, standing from his seat. "Are you going to be okay?"

Hermione nodded. She stood from the sofa as well, giving his hand a squeeze. She was about to leave the room when she paused and turned back to him.

"Remus?"

"Hm?"

"Whatever happened to Amanda Jones?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, er…" he said, and his face turned a bit ashen, his gaze dropping to the floor. "She died. During the first war against Voldemort."

Hermione felt his words like a knife in her chest. She nodded sadly.

"I see," she replied. "Well, then. Good night, Remus."

"Good night, Hermione."

(())

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were coming closer to defeating Voldemort. It was the war against him and his Death Eaters that consumed her thoughts, leaving her little time for reminiscing. Still, she kept wondering when the ache in her heart would ever fade. Harry and Ron were fierce friends to her. They stood in front of her protectively whenever danger was nearby. They made her smile any time they could, any time they all had a chance to relax at the Order headquarters. Hermione was happy, perhaps not as happy as she could have been with Sirius, but happy nonetheless. She was in the library, where she'd surrounded herself with a stack of books for research, holing herself away from the others, when she heard the door open. Hermione glanced up and saw Ron, his vivid red hair standing out against the dark gloom of Grimmauld Place's library.

"Oh, hello," said Hermione, looking up from the book she was reading on her desk.

"Hey," said Ron, crossing the room and taking a seat next to her.

He was just a bit closer than Harry would have sat.

"You alright?" asked Ron.

"Yes, just fine," she said, staring down into her book again.

His face told her he didn't believe her.

"I wanted to talk about… last night," said Ron cautiously.

"Oh, Ron, we don't have to," said Hermione, her cheeks reddening.

"No, I think we do," said Ron firmly.

Hermione took a deep breath. It hadn't been very wise, had it, to succumb to his advances? Hermione had been trying to move on with her life. How much longer could she spend gazing at the photo of Sirius and James, running her fingers along the sculpted lines of Sirius's aristocratic face? He wasn't coming back. She needed to live her life, did she not? So, she'd decided to give it a go with Ron.

Again.

"This isn't the first time we've been through this, Hermione," said Ron, his forearms resting on his knees as he watched her face.

Each time, they'd dated for a couple of weeks before she started comparing Ron to Sirius in her mind. Where Sirius was muscular, Ron was lanky. Where Sirius was confident, Ron was insecure. Where Sirius's lovemaking was skillful and passionate, with Ron, she felt like a limp, dead fish underneath him. And then there was the crying. There was always crying.

"Is it something I did? Something I said?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing like that," said Hermione miserably.

"So I'm just that bad in bed?" he said.

Hermione looked up at him fiercely, but he was grinning at her.

"You know, it doesn't do much for a man's ego when a woman starts crying while he's inside of her," said Ron with a shrug, rubbing the back of his head with a chuckle.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh too, but her laughter died quickly.

"Ron, I'm sorry. I don't… I don't think we should sleep together anymore," she said.

"I just don't understand why," said Ron.

Now, the fierceness came back as memories of a dimly lit Ravenclaw dormitory flooded her mind.

"Does there have to be a reason?" she snapped. "If I've said no, that's enough, isn't it?"

Ron lifted his hands in innocence. She knew he hated it, she knew it hurt him, confused him. But she couldn't explain. She couldn't tell him that she would never be able to look at a man like she had looked at Sirius. That she was only using Ron to try to distract her from the pain, to help her move on with her life somehow. She wondered if it had been the same for Sirius, but she was too afraid of the answer to ask Remus. Sirius was a handsome man, a charming man. She didn't expect him to have lived in solitude for all those years between Hogwarts and Azkaban.

The weeks passed by interminably, like endless drudgery. It was good for her that there was always a Death Eater, a Horcrux, or a battle, because otherwise, she wasn't sure she'd have made it. It sometimes felt like her life was stretched out before her endlessly with nothing to look forward to beyond defeating Voldemort. So, she didn't think much about what would happen after they defeated him. She poured herself into helping Harry. They'd been left precious little information and had precious little help, but slowly, they trudged through their plan to eliminate all the Horcruxes. There were narrow escapes, months on the lam, and a devastating encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange, the very woman who cruelly ripped Sirius away from her.

But, at long last, Horcruxes destroyed and Hallows united, Harry faced Lord Voldemort in the final battle.