Thank you for your support. Here comes the chapter leading up to the end. The end will be up soon; I need to get it up so I stop changing it, adding to it, and procrastinate the moment when I truly finish this story. It will be hard leaving it, this dream world of Sirmione that is all in my head.
Love from Kia
Chapter 25
Godric's Hollow, 31 October 2001
Hermione
The world spins around her in the familiar way of time travelling. It's nothing like apparition, which is always unpleasant, just dizzying. When the surroundings come into focus she is still on the floor of cottage. Her neck hurts and she can feel a warm trickle of blood wetting her shirt. She lifts her hand to grasp the ring on the chain she's been wearing for more than two years, but her fingers only find the almost forgotten shape of the Time Turner. She curls into herself, pulls her knees up to her chin and cries.
You sent me away. I wasn't up to me. Never up to me, even though I broke every rule. You kicked me out. Out of your life and out of your time. And went after Peter anyway.
Distantly she hears soft steps behind her, but she doesn't care and stays in her curled up position. Something touches her shoulder and she shrugs.
"Go away," she growls.
The soft steps disappear quickly.
"Daddy, there is a lady on the floor," a young voice says from some distance away. In the kitchen, Hermione concludes by the direction. "There is blood."
Considerably heavier footsteps quickly draw near and Hermione can sense someone kneeling next to her. She still keeps her eyes squeezed shut, and she doesn't plan to open then again.
"Hermione! By Salazaar, where have you been? It's been years. You were to come back later on the day we won the war, not stay away forever. What has happened to you? Why are you hurt?"
He casts a healing spell and Hermione feels the gash on her neck close itself, even though it still hurts. She recognises the voice. It's Remus Lupin.
"Open your eyes, love. Come on. Look at me."
"No," she whispers. "No."
She remembers his hands on her from the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Much stronger than her own will. Reluctantly she opens her eyes and meets his gaze. Golden, as before, and a lot more tired than last time she spoke to him. He is tearing up, but she feels strangely numb when he pulls her against her against his chest.
"Daddy?" the young voice asks. "Daddy? Who is she?"
"Teddy, it's all right. This is a friend. She has been away."
Hermione feels small fingers touch the side of her face that isn't pressed against Remus's chest.
"What is your name?" he asks.
"Hermione," she whispers back.
"I've heard about you. I've seen photos. But you disappeared. Never came back."
Hermione sighs deeply before she sits up and faces the four-year-old. His hair is blue and he's got his mother Tonks's delicate features.
"I came back now. You are Teddy. I met you once, when you were just a baby, and I knew your mother."
The boy looks doubtful, but smiles tentatively.
"I like you jacket," he says. "Cool."
Hermione looks down on the black, worn leather and makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Remus touches her shoulder.
"This is Sirius's. From when he first got his bike. When we were 16."
"He had it altered for me. Last month. In Diagon Alley."
"1981. You come directly from then."
She nods.
"October 31. Just before he apparated to London, found Peter and everything went to… went wrong. Or did it? Remus, what happened?"
Remus sighs.
"Let's have some tea and then we'll talk. Teddy is just about to go to bed. Let me tuck him in, and then we'll… compare notes? Remember? Herbology before the exams?"
"I remember," she answers with the shadow of a smile.
"Will you be here tomorrow, Hermione?" Teddy asks.
"She will," his father answers for her. "You can show her your room tomorrow. She used to live in this cottage. When we were very young. Long before you came along."
A little later Hermione sits by the kitchen table, opposite Remus. They drink Butterbeer. Hermione learns that history has played out the same way she remembers from the last time she was in her original timeline. Sirius is dead, and has been for five years. After more than decade in Azkaban he had very little time as a free man before he went with the Order to the Department of Mysteries and got in the way of Bellatrix's killing curse.
"Such a waste," Remus sighs. "We would have saved Harry and you and the others without him. He was too angry, too shattered to be focused enough to be careful. He should have stayed at Grimmauld Place. He wasn't supposed to come with us… Mad-Eye almost cursed him…"
"I broke so many rules, Remus," Hermione interrupts. "I would have told him everything if he had been prepared to listen. But he was… That rage. I only saw it once before, when McLaggen tried to abuse Marlene on the night of the ball. He was like a different person. He scared me. I've never…"
"Shh… That Black temper. It was like a curse in his blood, in his pure blood. His father was known, and feared, for his reckless anger. Hurt so many. Killed several house elves. Sirius never did, but he fought himself almost as hard as I fight my werewolf infection. He used to disappear when we were at Hogwarts when he felt his temper getting the better of him. Roam the Forbidden Forest or the battlements. He got detention, of course, if he missed class, and never protested. Detention for pranks he protested against, naturally, or when he'd been in fights with Severus or Tiberius, but never when he'd missed class to fight his own temper. I think it was some sort of victory for him. And he cursed that temper, for what it made him do the night James and Lily died. From the day I met him again in the Shrieking Shack until the day he fought Mad-Eye to come with the rest of us to the Ministry to save Harry, you, Ginny… Not so much his years in Azkaban, but that he'd sent you away in a rage. Shh, don't cry, love."
But Hermione can't stop her grief, her tears, the utter pain of hopelessness that overwhelms her. She registers Remus getting up and casting charms, which she supposes are silencing charms to keep Teddy from waking up. Then she feels his strong hands on her shoulders again, and she cries even harder. Remus says nothing, he only holds her and lets her tears run dry. Eventually she has no more tears, and feels absolutely exhausted.
"Talk more tomorrow, I think," he says. "Where would you like to sleep? You can have the bedroom."
"No," she croaks. "Never. I never want to go in there again. Isn't there a small room next to the bathroom, behind the kitchen? It used to be a very small guest room."
"I use it for storage, but I'll fix it for you. Give me a second."
Groggily Hermione sees Remus cross the kitchen and disappear. The cottage is so familiar, and still a completely different home. A few things remain from when she lived here with Sirius. The kitchen table, the built-in book shelves, the stove. Wearily she lets her gaze glide along the shelves. She recognises some of the books, and… a wooden box. Without asking Remus she crosses the floor and reaches for it. Her heart pounds hard in her chest when she opens it. It's full of photographs. The top one is a wedding photo of Remus and Tonks.
"I'd be happy to look at them with you another day, Hermione, but it's too late now, and you are too tired. And my son wakes up at dawn."
"I didn't mean to… I'm sorry… It's just this box…"
"I know. It's his. Or his uncle's. It was here when I moved in three years ago, the autumn after the war ended."
"Once he gave me a ring. An engagement ring. It was in this box. And by pure chance that Time Turner, this bloody thing," she touches the miniscule hourglass on the chain around her neck, " was in that box for years. I'd almost forgotten about it until tonight, that night, I mean. I think he had, too."
Her exhaustion gets the better of her and she stumbles against the wall. In two strides Remus is by her side and catches her before she collapses.
"Come on. I've cleaned up the small room. And there are some things for you there."
"What things?"
She allows Remus to lead her through the kitchen and into the small room behind. There is a narrow bed, a small desk that used to be in the larger bedroom, and several boxes with their lids off.
"Your things. When I moved in here it was exactly as Sirius had left it. His things, your things, your life together. It was one of the worst things I'd ever done, going through it. I couldn't ask anyone to help me, because that would have given you and your, hm, very extended time travelling away. Minerva came here once, and together we decided to give Sirius's things to Harry, and keep your things for… We were both rather destroyed by the fact that you didn't return, and have tried out hardest to convince those of us left that your time travelling might have taken you away forever, but for the best of causes. We haven't forgotten you, but we've almost given up hope of seeing you again. Minerva will be so relieved when I tell her. Or do you want to do so yourself?"
"Please, can all that wait, Remus? Just until tomorrow, or the next day. I can't really…"
"Of course, of course. But your things are here. In these boxes. In case you'd ever need them again. And…"
Remus takes a few steps into the room and opens a drawer in the small desk. He takes out a small, dark parcel and hands it to her. It's physically painful to touch the dark silk with its print of black paws. Hermione draws breath and buries her nose in the silk. It smells faintly of dust, but there is something hard inside it. With shaking fingers she unfolds it and the diamond ring clatters to the floor. Clumsily she picks it up. She almost laughs but with a lump of fresh tears in her throat.
"Sirius told me that he'd given you the ring his uncle had once bought for a muggle born witch, and that you couldn't wear it on your finger. I found it when I emptied the bookshelves. And I found the handkerchief among his clothes. A gift? From you?"
Hermione nods and places the ring on her left ring finger. It's too large but fits perfectly on her middle finger.
"I can wear it now. I need to wear it now. I'd like some time alone now, Remus. Thank you for… for everything. I don't know what I would have done here alone. Or if someone, completely unknown had lived here. Did Sirius give you this cottage in his will?"
"No, he actually tried to give it to me before he died. During the year he lived at Grimmauld Place. When he'd met you again, and struggled to see you as someone who didn't know him, yet. He said he'd never go back here, and wanted me to have it. He knew I loved it. I moved here with Tonks, when we got married. Teddy was born here."
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather see living here. Who lives in his house in London?"
"No one. Harry owns it and stays there occasionally, but most often it's empty. It doesn't really hold any happy memories for any of us."
"No, perhaps not." She sighs. "Thank you for this." She makes a little gesture to include the packed boxes with books, clothes, shoes and most of her other belongings from the life she just found her banished from.
"Good night."
He kisses her cheek quickly and ducks out of the door. Hermione can hear him take a breath as deep as the ocean and sigh.
Hermione is too tired to change out of her clothes. She drops the old bike jacket on the floor and sinks down on the bed. She hasn't slept well the last weeks, knowing what would happen this night, a night that is now 20 years in the past. Sleep claims her like a tidal wave and when she is awaken by happy shrills of laughter it feels as if she's only closed her eyes for a second.
"Teddy, no. Keep you voice down! Our guest is asleep," she hears Remus softly tell his son.
"But I want to show Hermione my broom."
"Not yet. Come here. Let's have some breakfast. You can bring Hermione a cup of tea after you've eaten. And I know for a fact that she is a bit afraid of brooms."
"Really?"
Even the short dialogue tells Hermione that Remus and Teddy have a good life together, despite the absence of Tonks. And Sirius, James, Lily and all the other men and women who used to be such an important part of Remus's life. She used to be part of his life, too. Long before Teddy, both when she and Remus were the same age, and before, when she couldn't quite think about him without the title 'Professor'. Can she be again? Part of Remus's life? Of Teddy's? Laying rested in this narrow bed, in this small room, which is rather unfamiliar for her, and listening to father and son chat over breakfast she wants to reach out and be part of the life she once left, but beneath her sleepy thoughts of getting to know young Teddy an abyss of dark pain threatens to erupt like a volcano and burn everything to ash. Remus's words from midnight echoes inside her, simmering just above the pain.
We would have saved Harry and you and the others without him. He was too angry, too shattered to be focused enough to be careful. He should have stayed at Grimmauld Place. He wasn't supposed to come with us… Mad-Eye almost cursed him…
Hermione grasps the Time Turner with her right hand and holds up her left hand in front of her. The diamond catches the dim light; the engraving looks like decoration, but is clearly readable in Sirius's handwriting.
I love you forever; time is nothing.
Time is nothing. I hold time in my hand, and love on my finger. I've already broken every rule I ever knew about messing with time. I love you forever. Time is nothing.
Hermione scrutinises the Time Turner. The outer ring is years, the middle is months, and the inner, smallest ring is days. She begins counting in her head.
Five years, four months, thirteen days. Roughly. And one leap year. I need a calendar. There must be one in here. One of my old ones. And 20 years too old, bugger…
"Good morning," someone says from the door.
Teddy holds a steaming cup if tea on a tray, and his father stands behind him. Hermione can see that Remus, quickly and with a worried expression, sees her holding up the Time Turner to the light, and she drops it immediately. She sits up against the headboard and smiles.
"Good morning, Teddy. It the tea for me?"
"Yes. Did we wake you? Daddy said I was too loud. I'm sorry."
"Don't be, Teddy. I liked listening to you and your father. And I was longing for a cup of tea."
The blue-haired child beams at her and places the tray next to the bed.
"Daddy has told me about you," he blurts out. "You are friends with uncle Harry."
"I am. But I haven't seen him for a long time."
"Will you see him now? Today?"
"Hm… I don't know. I've only just…"
"Teddy, why don't you go and see if there is any toast left in the kitchen?" Remus asks his son. "I think Hermione looks hungry."
The child bounces out of the room, and Remus sits down on the chair by the desk.
"What are you thinking, Hermione?"
She sips her tea and searches for an answer that isn't a lie.
"I'm not at all ready to see Harry, or anyone else. Not yet. Can I just have some time to… to find my bearings? Please, Remus? Can you keep quiet about me, just for a little while."
He sighs and gazes inquiringly at her.
"Some time?"
"Yes, time."
"But can you be trusted with time?"
She shrugs.
"Please, let me stay here without telling anyone. Please, can you keep quiet, just a bit?"
"I can. But I don't know about Teddy. He's not good with secrets. Take after his mum in that respect."
"I understand. Just for today? We could… You could tell me what I missed. I don't even know who survived the war. Who is Minister for Magic? If Harry's still with Ginny? Ron and his brothers, are they…? Except Fred… We could look at all those photos you have, and Teddy can help, too."
"I can help with what?" asks the child in question from the doorframe. "And there is no more toast."
"You, Teddy, can help by showing me the pictures and tell me what uncle Harry and aunt Gi…" She sees Remus nod, "…Ginny are doing now. Where they live, and what you do when you see them."
"And we can take Hermione to the churchyard and visit Mummy's grave. Hermione has been away for so long, we need to tell her what has happened with everyone she is friends with."
"Yeah, OK. But where have you been?"
"Just away, Teddy."
"I'll make some fresh toast in the kitchen. Come out when you feel like it, but toast is considerably better warm than cold."
After a more substantial breakfast than just tea, a long hot shower and clean clothes from the neatly packed boxes Hermione sits on the couch and listens to Remus and Teddy talk about the photographs in the box. It is not the same couch that used to be in the room, and it's placed at a different angle. Sometimes the two Lupins talk more to each other than to her, but she enjoys it anyway. Their chat creates a mental map in her mind. In a few hours they cram together three years of life that Hermione has missed.
Towards the bottom of the box Teddy takes up a photograph of Sirius, Remus, James, Lily, Peter and Hermione. She remembers when it was taken. They stand outside the cottage with a picnic basket, blankets and a parasol. They were going to the river for an afternoon of just fun and games. It was the week before they joined the Order of the Phoenix. May Potter took the picture. As always, Hermione avoided the lens, trying to cover her tracks for the future. In the photo she wears a cap that shadows most of her face. She can see the glittering chain around her neck; the ring is hidden under her sundress. The same day Sirius gave it to her.
"This is Sirius," Teddy tells her. "He was friends with my daddy for a long time."
"I know," she answers without thinking.
"Did you know him, too? But he's dead. Been dead always."
"Not always," Remus corrects Teddy. "Just longer that your whole life."
"That's always to me," the boy persists.
"Who is this?" Hermione asks and points at Lily. Her voice is strained.
"That is uncle Harry's mum. She died when he was little, like my mum."
"Yes, I know." Hermione gently ruffles the boy's hair, which has changed to purple when he mentioned Tonks. She is just about to put the photo away when Teddy grabs it.
"She looks like you. That girl, next to Sirius."
Hermione swallows hard and catches Remus gaze over the boy's head. She feels sick and dizzy and about to start crying.
"She does, a little, doesn't she?" Remus says lightly. "They are both very pretty, and Sirius always liked pretty girls. But, now it's time for something else. We need to go to the grocer's and buy some food. And Hermione might need a rest. Or take a walk. Down to the river, perhaps?"
She nods gratefully. Teddy slides down from the couch and Remus catches her gaze again.
"Best I could come up with."
"Thank you."
When father and son are ready to go, and Teddy is half way out of the door, Remus turns back.
"Will you be here when we get back? We won't be long." The light question has a dark tone.
"Yes," she answers a beat to slow. "I might go out for a bit, but I'll be back. Soon."
When the cottage is silent Hermione resolutely walks to the small room where her things are. She is wearing jeans and a white knitted sweater. She picks up the black bike jacket from the floor and puts it on. She ties the paw-printed handkerchief around her neck, pulls of the ring from her finger and puts it in her pocket. Then she sits down by the desk to do some maths. Rather soon she knows the corresponding turns with each ring of the Time Turner that will take her to the 18 of June 1998. The day when the empty arch in the Department of Mysteries became veiled and echoing of Sirius's voice to her.
We would have saved Harry and you and the others without him. He was too angry, too shattered to be focused enough to be careful. He should have stayed at Grimmauld Place. He wasn't supposed to come with us…
She pockets her wand, pulls her boots on and takes one last look around the cottage.
Will you believe me, Sirius? Do I need something more to convince you? Your obituary in the Daily Prophet, perhaps?
But she doesn't know where she can get a copy of that. The last step of her plan is location. She's in the wrong place. Apparition is for place; the Time Turners is for time. She closes her eyes and thinks of a secluded corner in the park close to Grimmauld Place in Islington. The next second the cottage is empty.
No one sees her materialise in the park. It's lunchtime, but the cold keeps the office workers in the neighbourhood by their desks. Hermione passes a mother with a pram, and an old man feeding the squirrels. They take no notice of her. Despite her clothes the cold is nippy and she walks fast towards her destination. Ten minutes later she stands, a little out of breath, in front of the row of townhouses with the confusing numbering of number 11 next to number 13. She closes her eyes and thinks about the address that ought to be between them, and out of nowhere it appears. The battered door, the dirty walls, the grimy windows. She walks up the worn stone steps and comes face to face with the silver doorknocker in the form of a twisted serpent. This is the ancestral home of generations of Slytherins. Carefully she tries to turn the doorknob, and feels it turn under her fingers.
Doesn't need a lock from the muggles, and I am, after all, one of the many Secret-Keepers after the death of both Mad-Eye and Dumbledore.
"Homenum Revelio," she whispers with her wand out, but the old house doesn't answer. Number 12 Grimmauld Place is empty. Suddenly she is nervous, on the brink of anxious. Her memory of Sirius's rage, directed at her, is too fresh in her mind.
I can send you back where you belong, and hope I'll never see you again.
And then, in Remus's softer voice:
And he cursed that temper, for what it made him do the night James and Lily died. From the day I met him again in the Shrieking Shack until the day he fought Mad-Eye to come with the rest of us to the Ministry to save Harry, you, Ginny… Not so much his years in Azkaban, but that he'd sent you away in a rage. Shh, don't cry, love.
But she does. She sinks down on the dirty, tiled floor with her back against the tatty silk-clad walls and cries. Her crying is so violent she struggles for air, feeling close to blacking out. Eventually she can pull herself together and take a slow tour of the ground floor. The dining room with its long table. China plates with the Black family crest. The narrow staircase at the end of the entry hall, leading down to the kitchen. The kitchen is a mess, and dirty. Hermione remembers it from the Christmas 1997, when Molly Weasley had gone over it when Sirius had invited her whole family to be close to Arthur, who was at St Mungo's, after the snake attack at the Ministry. Every pot and pan had been gleaming, and the food was, as always, delicious. And she had also been invited, declined skiing in France with her parents, and taken the tube north, with her stomach full of butterflies. She never once saw Sirius in the kitchen, though, and figures this location is as good as any she'll find in the house. Hesitantly she turns on the tap and is surprised it produces clear, cold water. She drinks some and washes her face. Then, with shaking fingers, she pulls out the Time Turner and starts turning the five years, four months and thirteen days. The kitchen changes in front of her, it becomes cleaner and cleaner. For a second she sees a glimpse of herself drinking a glass of milk, and then Harry, looking straight at her. But Harry is not in her intended place in time and he fades quickly. When the hourglass stops spinning the kitchen looks almost as perfect as that Christmas. Most importantly, it's empty, because it's the 18th of June 1996.
12 Grimmauld Place, 18 June 1996
Hermione climbs the stairs up to the ground floor and the entry hall. By the door there is a clothes hanger with a dark grey coat on. It's Sirius's coat. He wore it when he gave her the carelessly wrapped book of sonnets. In the dining room she sees a half-eaten dinner on a plate adorned with the Black family crest. The impossibly long table is set for one person, and he hasn't finished his lonely meal. The wine decanter is empty, though, as is the crystal glass. She recognises the glass, too. She had her first glass of elf-made wine in a glass just like it. A sound from one of the upper floors makes her heart beat faster. Not the first floor, where the Black family tapestry hangs, but further up. Perhaps the library. She knows she can't sneak up on Sirius. He's far too vigilant. She also knows that he is bored, reckless and irresponsible to some extent. He might curse her to any level of hell if she tries to surprise him like that. As silently as she can she walks to the front door, opens it slightly and slams it shut with a bang. Then she waits a few seconds for him to react, or wake up, or put away possible Order of the Phoenix-secrets. Quick footsteps are coming closer above.
"Hello! Sirius!" she calls out. "It's me, Hermione."
The footsteps pick up speed and in seconds he comes down the stairs. He looks at her as if she's a ghost. Or, at least, unexpected. Which she is, of course, no matter which timeline they are in. He is pale and too thin, but the absence of rage in his features makes Hermione's heart beat faster. He is, of course, older, but Hermione has spent so much time in her past seeing this older man in his younger self. Now she sees the opposite. The young man she lived with for so long in the sharp cheekbones and the dark hair, despite the strands of silver.
"Hermione? Why are you…" He crosses the entry hall in a few steps and takes her briefly in his arms and kisses her cheek. She picks up his scent of warm wood and pine resin. Quickly he takes a step back from her and folds his arms across his chest in a clearly reserved manner.
"Good to see you. Where is Harry? Has something happened at Hogwarts? Is that Umbridge toad still giving you trouble?"
Hermione shrugs.
"Oh, she gives us trouble, no doubt. But Harry's fine, and still at Hogwarts. He is absolutely safe. It's just me."
"Right," Sirius says hesitantly. "You are of course welcome. Would you like some… hm, tea? Coffee?"
"Tea, please."
Sirius calls for Kreacher and orders the house elf, in the same cold, commanding voice Hermione remembers and despises, to make tea for two and bring to the library.
"Come on, then," he says and gestures for Hermione to follow him up the stairs. When they enter the library the tea is already there, and Sirius commands Kreacher to go back to the kitchen, but not to leave the house.
"Can't trust him. I know you're all pro elf rights, but do you know what he did at Christmas?"
"Yes, yes I do. He left the house on your order. If you'd been kinder he might only have left the kitchen, but stayed in the house."
"Whatever, miss Granger, spokesperson for the house elves. Now, what brings you here?"
He sits down on the couch and gestures for her to do the same.
Hermione is quiet. She takes the cup he offers her, sits down, and sips the tea. Ridiculously strong with full fat milk. She closes her eyes and wonders where to begin. She knows she hasn't got much time. It's already afternoon. The Order will probably storm in in the early evening, summoned by Severus Snape, the only one Harry will be able to communicate a message to when he'll be held in Umbridge's office.
When she opens her eyes and meets Sirius's his gaze is unguarded and full of grief. She has seen that look before, but didn't know what it meant. That the grief had something to do with her. She'd interpreted his depressed mood as general after more than a decade in Azkaban, the loss of his friends and the betrayal of Peter Pettigrew. But now, for two seconds worth of time, the pain and loss in his grey eyes are for her, just her.
She puts the cup aside and leans towards him. She pulls out the Time Turner from under her sweater and holds it up for him to see. He grows paler than before, and leans away from her.
"I've come to take me with you. Til' after the war. You know I'm a time traveller. I didn't come here from Hogwarts just now, I came here from our life in Godric's Hollow. From where you banished me. I've also made a slight detour in the near future. If I don't come with me, you will be killed tonight by your mad cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. I tried to save you once before, Sirius, but I couldn't. I didn't trust you, and when things became… when James and Lily died, you couldn't trust me in return. I don't blame you. I thought I could persuade you, but you…"
"Sent you away," he whispers.
A note before "The End": You might be annoyed with details that don't follow canon, rules of Time Traveling, or traits out of character. Let me then remind you that this story, while somehow in line with canon early on are entirely built on non-canon by its Sirmione pairing. Comments on that are welcome. And encouragement to help me let go of the last chapter that is burning a hole in my MacBook.