Reader, note the date. Time is elusive, and, later on, so is place.

Thank you for your support and your reviews. This chapter might make you… well, upset? I'm not sorry about that, it's my intention. I would, of course, love your feedback.

Kia

Chapter 24

12 Grimmauld Place, spring 1996

Sirius

Quite often Sirius feels more like a prisoner at 12 Grimmauld Place than he ever did in Azkaban. Things were easier in Azkaban, despite the cold, the hunger, the almost tangible depression the Dementors spread around them. He had no options in Azkaban, and what he wanted counted for nothing. He'd focused his mind, and all his ambition on the thought of escaping. He never had the need for wishes, for emotions, for desires. He never considered others there. It was just him, with his hidden memories he never dared think about, partly out of fear of the Dementors stealing them, and partly out of fear of loosing his mind.

He'd been so happy, so very happy, before that cursed last of October 1981. Despite the war, the constant fear of meeting one of Voldemort's followers with his guard down, the threats to people he knew and loved, the dark, hard, dreadful times, he'd been happy. Hermione had been in his life, she's been the very centre of his life, the sun his life evolved around. She never took part in active duty despite being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, under an assumed name. Only Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, apart from James, Remus and Lily, knew of Hermione's original timeline and the need for her to keep a low profile. Sometimes she gave strategic advice, and Dumbledore always trusted her.

He'd refused to think about the risks. Love and war fuel each other's passion, but not without risks. At the back of his mind he knew that he took larger risks than she did, since he was an Auror on active duty. He was selfish, knowing he could be injured or killed, and thus leaving her alone, but he couldn't fathom the thought of her disappearing and leaving him alone.

And then, in a blood-thirsty rage, he'd made her disappear. He'd banned her from his life, his timeline. It had almost ripped his heart out of his body, but he figured he didn't need one to go after the rat Peter, after learning that he'd been a Death Eater for years and supplied Voldemort with information about the family most likely to be the one in that elusive prophecy Dumbledore sometimes referred to as crucial. Sirius had never believed in prophecies, he believed in the free will and choices. Making the right choices. With Hermione in his life he'd made lots and lots of right choices. Up until the day he didn't.

Quickly he rises from the dusty couch in the library at Grimmauld Place. He walks to the large French windows and opens them to the walled-in garden. It is more like a piece of wilderness with all the poisonous, thorny, stinging plants the wizarding world knows, than a garden. His mother's choice, of course, and he's never bothered to change it. Now he toys with the idea of making it into something like the garden that surrounded his uncle Alphard's cottage, almost 20 years ago. In his other life, in his first life. When he still could feel undiluted happiness. When he was with her. With a few flicks with his wand he cuts back and un-roots the nettles, the roses with their heavy, sickening scent and the hawthorns. He tries to remember the flowers from the cottage garden. Hermione had planted flowers that seemed as high as the cottage itself. Hollyhocks and larkspur. He doesn't know the spells to neither plant them nor grow them. Frustrated he casts a spell he once learned from a wizard who had tried to introduce the muggle sport golf in the magical world. A velvety lawn covers the dirt. It looks too clean, too sterile. After some struggle he manages to conjure up blackberry, which he finds suitable in a bittersweet way. Black and thorny.

He places his hand over his heart and feels the faint rustle of paper. It's a letter he always keeps close to his heart. He doesn't need to read it; he knows every word of it, every punctuation mark and every elegantly written word in brown ink.

Hogwarts 20 January 1996

Dear Sirius,

I don't know how to thank you enough for the book of sonnets you gave me. It is the one thing from the muggle world I'd save to a desert island. Shakespeare writes more with his heart than his pen, and his words follow me around Hogwarts. With things being as they are here with Umbridge in charge and prohibitions against everything that might bring joy, the sonnets you trusted me with are like stars on a winter sky, like the night you walked me back from the cave the Christmas before last.

I would, of course, rather be that summer's day you suggested in your dedication, but it's hard here. Harry keeps to himself a lot; neither Ron nor I know how to help him. Ron's brothers are planning something that probably will give them detention for the rest of this semester. Have you heard of a quill that writes with the writer's blood, rather than ink? I think Umbridge is using it when she gives detention. Harry's hand is all scarred with lines she had him write. As always, I try to stay out of trouble, or at least cover my tracks, so I haven't been forced to use it.

I'm sending this with Luna to send from Ottery St Catchpole. Can't trust the owls here.

Love,

Hermione

When Sirius first got the letter in late January he'd been furious about the quill Hermione described. Did he know it? Of course he did! The bloody thing's real name was The Black Quill, and was invented by some great grandfather of his. It had been banned since 1915. Sirius had raised hell with Dumbledore to look into it, and he'd heard from Harry that Umbridge didn't use them at detention now. Not regularly, anyway.

Now he keeps the letter close to his heart for the first part of it, where Hermione writes from her heart, rather than just reports what is happening at Hogwarts. He wishes he dared write to her, but after countless drafts he has given up. In his mind Hermione is the woman he fell in love with almost two decades ago, but in the reality of here and now she is his godson's best friend and he is, at best, someone in her periphery. Apart from that kiss on Christmas Eve…

No, can't think about that. I'd given her wine, because I'm an idiot. If she'd told anyone they'd say I abused her. I'll go mad. I keep living in these memories as soon as I'm alone, which is most of the time, and if and when she comes here with Harry I don't even know how to talk to her without messing with her mind. And my own.

He forces himself to stay in the present and think constructively.

If she leaves this timeline in 1998, in two years, and I send her 20 years into the future three years later, it will be 2001. Will she come back to me, then? I'll be even older than now, and she will still be… "You will be 18 forever, to me." It was never sonnet no. 18, it was her age, our age, when I gave her that ring. But why in the name of Merlin would she even consider coming back to me? I literally threw her out of my life, out of my time. Can't think of that. I'll go insane if I do.

He doesn't know what happened to that ring. It might have fallen between the floorboards when he ripped the Time Turner chain off her neck to reunite the chain with its original pendant. And sent it spinning.

He hasn't been back to Godric's Hollow since that late October day. When he escaped from Azkaban he begged Remus to move into the cottage. Remus's own house in Upper Flagley in Yorkshire is damp, dark and far too small, even for a single man. Remus is still living there, but he has promised Sirius to think about his generous offer. Sirius himself is never going back to Godric's Hollow, but since Christmas he frequently visits in his dream at night.

Sirius casts an Incendio towards the fireplace and sinks down on the couch again. He wonders what Harry does. He wonders if he'd be as involved in Harry's life and the resurrected Order of the Phoenix if it weren't for Hermione. He guesses not. The glass on the low table in front of him is empty, but not for long. He leans into the corner where he found Hermione asleep on Christmas Eve and tries to catch her scent. Whether it's really there or only in his memory it lulls him into a drunken slumber. And sends him right back to the day he relives at night.

Godric's Hollow, 31 October 1981

Sirius breaks every speed record known to wizardkind when he crosses the evening sky from London to Godric's Hollow. Minutes before the Patronus of Bathilda Bagshot had entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and reported about the Dark Mark above the Potter's house.

He more or less crashes into the fence around the garden, and leaves his motorbike laying on the road. Half of the second floor of the house is missing. Sirius disregards everything he has ever learned about personal safety when entering a house with the Dark Mark above. Roaring he bursts through the front door, calling James's name, Lily's name.

The home is a mess. Not unlike others he's seen when on duty, but this time he can see what the rubble used to be. Yesterday. At lunchtime, even. The dining chairs, the cupboards in the kitchen, Harry's toys, Lily's desk. He sets off towards the stairs but finds it blocked by a very large man. He pulls out his wand and is just about to cast every Unforgivable Curse he's ever heard of when the man holds up one hand and shouts.

"It's me. Hagrid. I've got him, he's right here. Sirius, he's alive."

Sirius has no idea what Hagrid is on about. There are never any survivors in a house this shattered by Dark Magic. When he hears the tinkle of Harry's laugh and sees his chubby arms stretching towards him, he doubts his own senses.

"Here, take him. He wants to go to you."

With shaking hands Sirius takes the boy and hugs him tight to his chest. The room spins around him and he sits down on the first step of the stairs.

"Where are James and Lily?" he asks Hagrid, and watches the giant man break down in sobs.

"Sirius, they're gone, they're dead. He's been here! Tom Riddle, Lord Vo… oldemort. Dumbledore sent me to see if I found anyone alive. And Harry… Harry was just sitting I his crib, but Lily was…" The rest is lost in heaving sobs, but Sirius doesn't need to hear the words. He can almost feel the absence of life in the house. He stands up and takes a few steps towards the living room. In front of him, on the floor, is a body. It's James. Or what once was James. Sirius stumbles back until he collides with the wall behind him. He slides down on the floor and hears a whining sound he realises is coming from himself.

"Hagrid," he says as calmly as he can. "Can you please take Harry for a minute? I can't… I need to…"

Hagrid takes the boy back from Sirius and Sirius crawls on his hands and knees to James's lifeless body. He grabs the body by the shoulders and tries to heave him into a sitting position, but it's useless. There is nothing left of James, and Sirius drops the dead weight with a sickening thud. With shaking fingers he removes James's glasses and closes his eyes. He then stumbles to his feet and reaches out to take Harry back, but Hagrid doesn't hand the boy over.

"Give him to me! I'm his godfather, his guardian if something were to happen to his parents."

"No. Dumbledore said to bring anyone alive back to him. I'm just following orders. You can see Dumbledore later, owl him or whatever, but I am taking him with me."

Sirius is too crushed to argue, and leans back against the wall.

"Does Dumbledore know how this happened?" he asks Hagrid.

"He said the Fidelius Charm was broken."

Hagrid begins to walk backwards towards the door. Sirius thinks he must have misheard. Only Peter could have broken the Fidelius Charm and that could never happen.

"And everyone knows you are the Secret Keeper, Sirius."

All of a sudden there is a pink umbrella in Hagrid's left hand. It looks ridiculously small, but Sirius knows it well. Hagrid was a student at Hogwarts for three years, before he got expelled. He's not really allowed to carry a wand, but Sirius knows that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to carry around this barely disguised wand. And now Hagrid accuses him of betraying James and Lily. When it must have been… Peter. Sirius's world is turned upside down and is suddenly void of colours.

"I just realised," he distantly hears Hagrid saying, "it's was you all along. You never really left the Black values and ways of life, did you? We've all thought you reformed and… and then you go and do something like this…"

"NO!" Sirius roars. "No! It was Peter. We decided to change Secret Keepers a week ago. Even Dumbledore doesn't know. It was Peter all along. He's… Oh, Merlin, he's one of them. He's been so evasive… so peculiar… No, oh Lord, no…"

Hagrid still watches Sirius with suspicion. There is no time to convince him. Sirius trusts Hagrid, but knows that Hagrid's trust in return will take a long time to rebuild.

"Take my bike, Hagrid. Take it and bring Harry to Dumbledore. You might think I want to get you out of the way and then join ranks with Tom Riddle, but I'm going after Peter, and I'm going now. The most important thing is Harry, I think we can agree on that. So, go! Take him somewhere safe. I'll contact Dumbledore tomorrow, first thing."

If I'm still alive. But I can't survive this. I don't want to survive without James.

"Think of Harry, Hagrid! Go!"

When Sirius stumbles up the stairs he hears his motorbike roar and sees it lift off through a window. Hesitantly he pushes the door to the nursery open, and casts a Lumos in the dark room. What he sees makes him drop his wand with a clatter. He kneels and searches for it with shaking fingers. He can't bear to light the room as brightly again and conjures up a small, bluish flame and places it in an empty glass. In the dim light he sees Lily's lifeless body. She has fallen where she was cursed, in front of Harry's crib. Her head is turned and her eyes are still open.

"No," he whispers. "No, Lily love, not you. Not you too. I can't…"

He lifts her body into his lap and clings to it. She is still a little warm, but grows colder by the second. Sirius embraces her and screams. He screams until his voice gives out and he begins to retch. He returns her body to where he found it, puts a strand of her still vibrant hair behind her ear, and stands up.

"I'll get him, Lily. I will make him pay."

He doesn't need light to find his way out of the house; he knows every inch of it by heart. Outside it's raining. He lifts his face to the sky, but doesn't feel the raindrops against his skin. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees a dark figure running towards the house. Instinctively he takes a step into the shadows. Severus Snape passes him close enough for Sirius to hear the other man's strained breathing and see the utter, raw pain in his usually controlled features. Snape enters the house bellowing Lily's name, and Sirius leaves. He has a Marauder's Map of all of Britain in his cottage and knows it will tell him where he can find Peter.

Not until he flings open the door he remembers that the cottage isn't empty. Hermione is there. Or is she? Where has she been when hell broke loose on the other side of the road?

But she is there. She is curled up on the couch, crying. The cottage is cold, and she is wearing his old bike jacket he picked up from Twilfitt and Tatting's just a couple of weeks ago, mended and altered to fit her. For a second the room spins from the familiar sight, after an evening of unbearable mental snap-shots.

"There has been…" he begins. "James and Lily…"

"I know," she cries. "Don't you think I know?"

"The Dark Mark," he says while kneeling in front of her. "You saw it."

She shakes her head slightly. When Sirius looks around him he can see that all the curtains in the cottage are closed.

"You know?" he repeats. "Because… Hermione, baby, tell me how you know?"

She turns away from him, and shakes her head again.

"Tell me that you saw him come, that you saw Tom Riddle go into James's house," Sirius says very slowly. "That you saw the green light of the Avada curse. Tell me. Tell me anything."

Cold sweat covers his scalp, runs down the back of his neck.

"No. I've known since I was eleven, since when I first met Harry. He was also eleven. We were in the same class at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, like you. And he was an orphan, since this date, the date when James and Lily were murdered by Voldemort."

Nightmare, nightmare! This is a nightmare! Wake up Sirius! The house is on fire, the world is on fire. Wake up!

Sirius tumbles over when Hermione tackles him. He is on his back on the floor and she sits astride him.

"I've known all along, and now is when I begin meddling with time and history. You are not going after Peter, who betrayed James and Lily. You think you can take him, and that you can kill him, but he will outsmart you, twelve muggles will die, and you will be sent off to Azkaban without a trial. You will be the most despised wizard for years, and it will serve no purpose because Peter will get away."

"Serve no purpose?!" he roars at her. "What purpose did the double murder across the road serve? A murder you knew would happen? For fuck's sake, Hermione, what have you done? Or not done?"

"It served the purpose of ending this war!" she screams back at him, tears dripping down into his face.

"What?!"

"Voldemort is gone. What just happened across the road sent him into shadows where he will stay for a bit more than a decade. And do you know who did that?"

Sirius is too confused to ask or rage or throw her off him.

"Lily did!" she continues in angry sobs. "When she scarified herself to protect Harry the ancient magic of love made Voldemort's curse bounce back and kill him, or what's left of him. He's made horcruxes, which will eventually bring him back, but Lily's sacrifice killed him, protected Harry and fulfilled the prophecy where Harry will be the one who kills the resurrected Voldemort. I saw it the same day Minerva McGonagall sent me 20 years back in time and into your life."

Sirius can't get his head around her frantic words, but he retorts with things she'd said before, years before.

"You said your mission was to protect Lily, to be here for Lily, to keep her safe! I remember you saying that. Why did you lie and then send her straight into the line of a killing curse? Why did you ever…"

"I said I would keep Lily safe up to a point!" Hermione cries back at him. "I never said more than that! And I was there for her the time my Wolfbane potion failed, and the time she and Severus got into that awful fight and he accidentally pushed her, and I was there when Harry was born, and she needed to go to St Mungo's as quickly as possible, or loose Harry. You weren't there! James wasn't there! You were with Dumbledore, on James's hunch that his baby wouldn't be born until the second of August. A hunch he almost lost both Lily and Harry for. So don't you dare say I haven't been here for Lily! But I spoke about Harry too, your little godson. I focused on Harry, I've always focused on Harry, long before I even met you. He will one day put things right in our world again, not Lily! Not you! Not me!"

Sirius is still not prepared to listen. He is too shattered, too angry and confused to even try. New thoughts swirl around inside him.

She knew. Peter betrayed them. She knew. Peter betrayed them. She knew that Peter would betray them. She knew they would die. She could have prevented it. Peter betrayed them. I will kill him. Now.

Hermione aims her wand at him. Her hand is shaking and before it's even a fully formed decision Sirius throws her off him the same second she croaks Petrificus Totalus. The curse misses and Hermione lands with a thud on the floor. Sirius is on his feet instantly, aiming his wand at her. Rage boils in his blood, his heart, his mind, and he shakes his head to clear it from the simple solution the voice of his father suggests inside him.

Crucio, crucio, crucio

"Were you about to curse me, Hermione? Who exactly are you? You just tried to curse me after admitting that you knew everything about what happened at James's house. Before it even happened."

He casts an Incarcerous that binds and gags her. He winces when he sees how painful it is, and removes the gag.

"I'll put I back if you start with your hideous lies again. You can't know that Lily made Voldemort disappear, that Peter will get the better of me, that I will go to Azkaban. I'm going after Peter, and if his death sends me to Azkaban, I will gladly serve my time there."

"But he won't die, Sirius!" she croaks. "Wait. Go after him later. Wait until tomorrow at see for yourself that Voldemort is gone and all active Death Eaters have gone into hiding. Stay with me. Please, Sirius. I love you. I couldn't change history for Lily and James, but I'd do it for you. Please, Sirius, please."

Sirius turns away. He can't look at her. He can't believe her. The part of him that wants to listen, understand and hold her is overpowered by a bloodthirsty vindictiveness.

Peter. I need to kill Peter.

He pulls out his Marauder's Map from the bookshelf. He hears Hermione's pleading voice below him. He restrains himself from kicking her, but wishes she would shut up. He'll deal with her later. He taps the map and whispers "Wormtail."

London. He's in London. Just next to that museum south of Hyde Park. He stretches, cranes his neck and is just about to turn on his heel and leave when he sees it. A wooden box. Uncle Alphard's box, filled with trinkets, pocket watches, some jewellery and… a Time Turner. With the box in his hand he turns around and looks down on her, where she lies tied up on the floor. Slowly he opens the box and takes out the circular, golden pendant. Her eyes widen. The smell of her fear hits him painfully.

"No, Sirius," she pleads quietly. "Let me stay. Don't, don't send me away."

"Shut up or I'll curse you."

He kneels over her, places his knees on each side of her, with her arms still tied to her sides. Then he undoes the Incarcerous for the satisfaction of keeping her down with his own strength. All his strength. She cries silently and the sound tugs at his heart.

I can't trust her. She can't stay.

He opens the buttons in her denim shirt slowly, in a parody of foreplay to lovemaking. She turns her head away. The golden chain with the diamond ring rests against her skin. Sirius touches it, disturbed for a second of his memories of when he gave it to her.

I love her so much. No, I loved her. Past tense.

Without warning he rips the chain open without magic, just raw strength. Hermione cries out in pain when the chain tears a cut in the side of her neck. He can instantly smell her blood and the sensation unsettles him.

"Now then," he mutters. "I took this off once, I'm sure I can put it back. Like this, and this, and this." He casts spells and hexes with small flicks of his wand. "Aha! I think I've just mended it. If so, I can send you back where you belong, and hope I'll never see you again."

"But you will, Sirius. And you'll recognise me, and you will wish you could undo everything you'll do this evening."

"What about what you've done?" he snarls back. "Or haven't done? Now then. The outer ring is years, right? And you went back 20 years last time. Well, let's see if it still works."

He quickly spins and counts. When he reaches 20 he lets go of the Time Turner and watches it fall towards her chest. Before it reaches her skin both she and the Time Turner is gone.

He shudders when he scrambles to his feet. Then he closes his eyes and thinks of the museum next to the building where Peter Pettigrew is hiding. A second later the cottage is empty.

Only two more chapters. Any predictions? I'd love to hear them.

Kia