Many thanks to Dave for betaing this chapter in record time. Much appreciated.

Silver

Illusion

Sirius scowled at his scuffed boots as he twirled a dry sprig of lavender.

Granger was acting weird.

As far as he knew, last night and all of this morning had gone off perfectly routine. He showed up, Mad-Eye gave him a report and he was left alone to wait for her to step out of the house. That was what they always done and today had been no different.

Except it hadn't. Cos Granger was being bloody weird.

He'd put it down as her being her usual bitchy self, with a dash of period related mood swings-he'd been on the receiving end of those more than enough- so he hadn't blinked twice when she'd walked right past him without a glance. But as the hours passed, he'd cottoned on to something being wrong.

Deflated was too stupid a word, but it was the only way to describe her. All the fire he'd come to know was gone and her lack of action, reaction and overall apathy was unnerving.

Sirius wasn't worried though. Not about her and definitely not about her damn mood swings.

This was Hermione Granger. Bitch got on his nerves like no sodding other- she'd be the last person he worried over. Just the idea of it was ridiculous.

So he'd tried to get a rise out of her. He'd failed.

Pissing her off was as natural as breathing air and he had years of experience purposefully getting on people's nerves. All that talent had amounted to bugger all though because she'd ignored everything. He'd asked stupid question after stupid question, turned the radio up as loud as he'd been able to handle and the witch hadn't so much as batted an eye.

Sirius had gone from annoyed to frustrated to outright angry at the fact that her moods managed to screw with him. It had been an unpleasant epiphany, one he would've gladly gone without.

He turned the radio back on, the silence far too heavy and suffocating. Sirius eyed the brunette in the middle of the room.

Head downcast, bushy hair covering her face as her hands diced away- she'd not spoken or moved from her stool. Lunch had come and gone and after complaining to deaf ears about starvation and cruelty to animals, he'd summoned Linny. He'd eaten upstairs, behind the till, ignoring his guilt at not having offered her some.

Sirius shifted in his seat. His arse was sore and his back ached. He'd stretched, even walked around the cellar for a bit. Granger on the other hand, hadn't moved an inch. All bloody day, since she'd gotten here and sat, she'd not so much as squirmed. If he hadn't known better, the Marauder would've wondered if it really was her. The witch could have easily been a shitty imposter for all this Hermione had in common with the one who pissed him off effortlessly.

It was Granger though. She smelt like she always did. The Imperius or Polyjuice weren't even possible. She was too securely protected- which left one option. Something had happened. When she'd left him, she'd been fine, albeit annoyed but that wasn't unusual. Whatever had caused this must have occurred between the time she'd gotten home and come out the door this morning.

He was in the clear, leaving two possible options: the perverted old woman or the weird elf. Batty ... he wasn't sure she would do something to the younger witch. Would she fuck with Hermione? The Marauder doubted it. Hooky seemed like a typical elf. Happy to serve his mistresses, not batshit crazy or sadistic like Kreacher.

His mind kept wandering back to last night's events, to the Potter's individual faces and of the knowledge they now held. It was stupid of course but it was still niggling at the back of mind. Impossible situations having to do with his slip up reaching Granger through a series of odd coincidences, of her being discovered because he couldn't keep his mouth shut- he slammed his eyes closed, shaking his head as distant cries began to echo in his head.

She was shaken up and her silence was bothering him. That was all.

He opened his eyes, panting under his breath as he searched his surroundings. The edges of his vision blurry. Grey eyes darted to the stairs and small windows. He swallowed thickly, willing the pounding in his ears to stop as he took deep calming breaths.

He was in Godric's Hollow. He was safe. There was no need to get all girly. He wasn't James.

The long haired Marauder glanced at the witch and breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't seen. Sirius stared down at the crushed lavender in his hand.

Something was wrong.

Did Granger know something he didn't?

Normally, the answer would be no. Most people under protective custody didn't know a damn thing. They rarely asked about the war and those who did asked about specific areas in the country, usually their neighbourhoods, villages or towns. Hermione never had. She had never given any sign of caring about life beyond Godric's Hollow, but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of the war. Dumbledore had a personal interest in her so he couldn't be sure of anything. Granger could have easily been some sort of spy, sent to watch him for all he knew.

Fucking hell he was paranoid.

He needed fresh air. No. He needed a smoke.

Technically, she had to be within eyesight at all times but since she wasn't doing a fucking thing, he figured it was safe to go upstairs. As long as he stood by the shop doors, it'd be fine. The Marauder cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to grab her attention. He nearly jumped out his skin when Granger cried out.

Hissing whispers reached his ears and dark eyebrows shot upwards as the witch ran towards the sink. As the tap came on, the scent of blood filled the room. He frowned as he stood and found the source of it.

Her silver knife was covered with blood. A good amount of it as well. Enough to form a small puddle. She must've really hurt herself.

'Granger?'

When she didn't reply he walked towards her.

She'd cut her thumb and pointer finger. The cuts were deep and curved downwards, a second longer and her skin would have been cut off. Already the area around the wounds were beginning to bruise. Instinct took over and he pulled out his wand, reaching for her wrist.

He'd just grazed her hand when Granger snatched it back. Dark brown eyes, bright with unshed tears glared up at him. Accusing and damming him for daring to touch her.

Never without my permission!

He showed her his wand while raising his empty hand, palm up and facing her.

'I just want to help,' he said and the witch clenched her jaw. Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. He was just trying to be fucking kind. 'Trust me.'

Suspicious eyes moved from him to his wand and he huffed a laugh realising how ridiculous he'd sounded just then. 'Yeah, alright,' he admitted, nodding at her before pointedly looking at her hand. 'Just...'

Trust me.

The brunette hesitated even as her cuts continued to bleed, staining the porcelain sink with red streaks. The pain must've made her see reason, because suddenly her dainty hand was resting in his larger one. He tried not to think about the warmth she radiated.

Paler than his own, her fingers were long and slender, her tiny wrist felt fragile in his grasp. She didn't have painted nails he noticed and her skin wasn't smooth- small cuts littered her fingers. The Marauder took a closer step and found himself towering over the witch. He blinked down at her as pale eyes ran down her face, settling on her lower lip.

With a silent incantation, he ran his wand over her wounds.

Muscles began to stitch themselves back together and Granger hissed at the stinging sensation he knew all too well. He looked up at the sound and his eyebrows shot up a fraction with sudden awareness. He'd never realised how small she was. The witch was petite, just managing to reach his shoulders, but he could've sworn she was bigger.

Sirius frowned, wondering how he'd missed it.

Her lower lip was swollen and marked from where shed bitten it. Freckles peppered her nose. Dark eyebrows, high cheekbones and long lashes that fluttered with her every blink as she fought back tears. The Marauder blinked as his gut squirmed. He was no good with crying women and the last thing he fancied was having to deal with a crying Granger. That wasn't part of the job. Sirius looked down, just in time to see the last of her cut close.

He took a step back and the witch met his stare with a frown.

She opened her mouth and for a second he thought she was going to thank him. He should've known better.

Granger's glare returned as she took a step back and moved around him. He felt his lips curl, amusement dancing in his eyes as he turned to watch her continue her brewing.

This was definitely Granger.

Sirius shook his head as he made his way back to his little corner. He glanced at the back of her head as he passed her and abruptly stopped. His eyes ran the length of her table and the Marauder frowned.

She hadn't brewed a single potion.

All the cauldrons were clean and everything looked untouched, the only things on the table were her knife and the peppermint she'd diced over and over again, now mixed with her blood. The cuttings resembled a bloody paste rather than actual leaves. They were completely useless.

He turned to Granger, her surprise evident in her features.

She blinked and he heard the hitch in her voice before she spoke. 'I ruined everything.'

His chest ached at her quiet and defeated tone, the strength of it shocked him. Sirius didn't think twice before vanishing the mess and summoning his stool. He sat next to her and began cutting peppermint for tomorrow. It was too late to start brewing, she would have to settle with preparing the needed ingredients today.

He felt her staring at him and he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

Granger was frowning again but he didn't care, Sirius went back to his dicing. After a few seconds, she picked up a clean knife and began cutting the leeches for the Blood Replenishing potion.

She didn't correct him this time and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't odd. Hermione didn't even acknowledge him which made the whole thing worse. Sat behind her in the corner was nothing compared to being sat next to her, not with her mood the way it was right now. Up close, it was much worse.

Granger didn't speak, eyes downcast and her cutting precise- but for all her movements, it was obvious she wasn't there.

Her shift ended and only he noticed.

They left the shop later than usual as they had to bottle and store the ingredients, only to go back when he realised her purse was missing- he found it on her table.

Sirius didn't mention stopping at Honey Buns for his daily sandwich and Granger didn't seem to care. She just walked as his frustration built. He wanted to shake her and to tell her to snap the fuck out of it but he dismissed the idea as soon as it'd come.

It wasn't his problem and he didn't care.

He couldn't stop looking to the witch beside him as they walked. One foot in front of the other, looking straight ahead, unseeing and uncaring of the world around her. Mechanical and detached. It wasn't right.

With a great sense of relief they finally reached Batty's door and he waited patiently as she dug and dug and dug through her little purse, looking for her keys. She didn't find them and Sirius shifted from one foot to another- desperate to have her hurry the fuck up so he could escape her suffocating presence.

Granger knocked after giving up, her forehead resting against the red door. A handful of knocks later, Sirius' impatience grew. He wanted to blast the fucking door open, even a less satisfying Alohomora would have been better than this but he wasn't that stupid.

Dumbledore had definitely done something to Batty's home and he didn't fancy finding out what.

The dog animagus stepped behind her and her shampoo tickled his nose. He raised a fist, pounding at the door. No one opened it.

'Call the elf Granger,' he said after several more knocks.

The witch frowned, looking over at him when he repeated himself. He saw the moment his command registered.

'Hooky,' she said, her voice rough.

Before she'd finished speaking, the door swung open and the tiny elf beamed up at them. Wide eyes dismissed him in favour of the witch beside him.

'Sorry Miss Hermione, but Batty is visiting her Phemmy and Hooky is not to open the door until asked.'

The brunette didn't reply. She moved past him and Hooky without a backwards glance, taking the stairs with the same frustrating indifference. A creak of wood and a close of a door.

Sirius frowned, turning to the weird elf, only to find him glowering at him.

'She's been like that all day,' he explained and the elf's ears wiggled, before his tiny shoulders dropped. 'Tell Batty.'

Hooky didn't say anything as he shut the door. The Marauder turned and headed to his spot, pulling out a fag as he did. His chest heavy and mind racing.

Sirius didn't care- he really didn't.

He just wanted to know what had caused her strange mood.

She had dreamt of Diagon Alley.

She'd been standing in the middle of the cobbled street as witches and wizards ran past her. Weasley's Wizading Wheezes stood in the distance as smoke billowed around her. Posters of Harry stared out at her as she shook her head at him. Disbelief pouring out of her because he wasn't alive yet. It was only nineteen seventy nine and he should've known that.

Pained screams and faint cries had echoed around her as faceless Muggleborns reached out to her, begging for help but she only shook her head. So sorry, but she couldn't help. She had to get to the bank and deposit the diadem.

Hermione had woken up in a cold sweat, heart racing, wide eyes staring into the darkness surrounding her. Panic pinned her to the bed as she pulled the covers over her head, trying to calm the chill that had settled on her bones.

It was pointless.

All traces of sleep left her once her mind began to race. Thoughts she'd successfully pushed away came forward in a sudden flood which the silence seemed to intensify.

Eventually, night gave way to light and she met the sun with numb silence.

It took all her strength to convince herself to get up. She finally managed it, despite knowing that it was completely pointless. Unfortunately, life didn't care for pathetic, little feelings.

By midday, her mood had worsened and no matter how hard she tried, her mind kept drifting back to that dream.

The day passed without her really noticing. Every sound was background noise, all movement was uneventful. Pointless motions and useless words. Unreal and seen through a lens.

All day she'd wished for nothing more than to be back home in bed and now that she was, she wished for mindless oblivion rather than this.

The brunette shut her eyes at the onslaught of images, distant cries and long forgotten memories pushed to the forefront of her mind. Her chest burned, her belly ached and she struggled to breathe.

The world felt too big.

Routine had moved her throughout the days as repetition guided her- both a flimsy barrier shielding her from the reality she still couldn't face ... but it wasn't enough anymore.

Every protective wall she'd built was breaking down around her, one stone at a time and she powerless to stop them. Nothing she'd believed in had been real.

Hermione blinked, frowning as she raised her fingers to eye level.

The blood had been real. And the pain. That was the only true thing, everything else was a mirage. The happiness she'd found had been a fraud- both timed and cruel.

A knock broke the night's silence and she shut her eyes.

'Miss Hermione?'

She should've known better, she thought as the ache in her chest intensified. How could she deceive herself into thinking she was improving. All she'd been doing was avoiding the facts and hiding like the coward she was.

She couldn't do anything right.

'Miss Hermione your foods is cold. Yous didn't eat.' Another knock. 'Miss Hermione?'

The sound of a tray rattling reached her ears and she squirmed as her belly cramped from hunger. She pulled the covers tighter around her, blinking away tears.

The day had quieted the voices in her head but with the night, they'd returned. Her old life had become a gaping wound, the flow of memories bleeding out.

Mum and Dad. Ron and Harry ... Sirius.

In him she had found the physical embodiment of the war. Of the before and after. The events she knew would play out as well as their consequences. All of which were important and essential but no less regrettable.

She had knowledge and that in itself made her powerful. She could do so much. Save Harry from all the pain, save innocent lives, save Fred, Tonks, Remus, the Potters- Sirius.

Sirius who was an arse and rude and completely unlikable but who had an air of ease about him. Who laughed easily and whose mischievous grin transformed his face ... who was destined to die on the eighteenth of June, nineteen ninety six. At the age of thirty six, after so many years of pain and suffering.

His death had led to open war.

Had Harry not gone after Bellatrix, he wouldn't have encountered Voldemort. Dumbledore wouldn't've had the need to protect Harry, or to distract the dark wizard long enough for Fudge to arrive. Voldemort would have remained in the shadows.

Everything happens for a reason.

Dangerous things happen to wizards who meddle with time.

Many lives were lost but it all turned out for the best, in the end.

With any luck, more than one life will be saved tonight.

Things had to go as planned.

You'll fix this ... she will.

She couldn't get involved- she couldn't. You can't.

You will have become no better than the Unspeakable who sent you here.

Nothing would change. Not by her hand. And not willingly.

Things already have, her mind whispered back. Its voice cold and seductive, unforgiving. Sirius.

Sirius with his mischievous grin and easy laugh who should've been out fighting and growing bitter from war- enough to begin doubting his friends. Instead he was here, protecting her as she hid from and denied the truth.

'Things changed,' she whispered and felt the full force of her words.

Hermione pulled the covers over her head, breathing heavily as her chest burned. There was a sour taste in her mouth and her gut clenched. She swallowed thickly, sniffling, body shaking.

There it was: The truth, spoken out loud and acknowledged.

She shut her eyes as the magnitude of her confession overwhelmed her. A dry sob escaped her parted lips and she clamped them shut.

How much damage had her wilful ignorance caused? How much damage had she caused?

All this time, she had the power to fix things and instead she hid. Hid when others fought. Cried as others pushed aside their pain and confusion to do what was right.

Harry. Snape. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Dobby. Mad-Eye. Sirius. Lily and James Potter. R.A.B.

Her mind drifted to the mokeskin pouch.

She had the power to change things for the better. She could. You shouldn't.

Time was far too intricate and delicate. One wrong move and Voldemort could win the war. In trying to help, she could ruin everything.

Sweat ran down her face and she swiped it away as she breathed in suffocating air.

Outside the village families were being slaughtered. Lives ruined. And all because of blood. The very blood that ran in her veins. The same blood that had brought her here.

Everything happens for a reason.

Was that true? Was she meant to be here?

No. 'No,' whispered Hermione.

She was meant to be home. With Ron and Harry as they searched for her Mum and Dad, not here. Never here.

She wanted the nightmare to end.

There'd been a moment in her dream where a Muggleborn witch had reached out to her. Hermione had attempted to help her up but her hands were weak- her strength had completely failed her. Rather than try again, she had turned and walked away.

The young witch blinked as a muffled knock reached her ears.

'Hermione? Open the door.'

The pain in her chest flared.

Another knock.

Hermione bit her lip as she breathed in heavily.

A click of a door and quiet steps. She felt her bed dip as the sheets were pulled away from her. A rush of fresh air filled her lungs and cooled her skin as moonlight greeted her.

'Bring them down love,' Batty said softly, her face hidden by shadows.

She frowned, her eyes seeking the older witch through the limited light.

'Bring them down,' she repeated firmly, quietly.

Confused, she looked away from the older woman, only to realise what she'd meant.

Hermione closed her eyes, willing her magic to settle. Around them, dull sounds rang out as levitating objects returned to their places and grew still.

She felt Batty run her hands through her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she took in gasping breaths. Her chest heaving with suppressed emotion as her eyes stung and watered.

'It's okay love,' murmured Batty, small fingers brushing back her fringe. 'You can let go now.'

A sob escaped her and Hermione slammed her eyes shut as the tears she'd kept at bay began to fall.