Chapter XVI
Going Awry

"Oh Merlin."

It was a good thing Hermione was already sitting down, because her legs had just lost all their strength.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I think it must be."

"Would you like me to help you fix it?"

"You can't. There's nothing you can… it's already happened… already going to happen. And I have to… I have to go."

No turning back. No changing your mind; no trying to change the future which is already your past. Maybe the turner just broke?

"Oh. Ok then."

"Luna?"

"Yes, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione grabbed for her hand, and found a thigh. Good enough. "Tell Harry… if you don't see me again, tell Harry I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

Hermione didn't have time to find that answer; she was very nearly late to what was, all too possibly, her own death -and she dared not fail to show.

She rose and stumbled out the door, bouncing off the doorframe without a care. Shaking hands set a paper plane to the shrieking shack; her point-me to follow it took three tries to cast stably; and she didn't give a damn who saw her throw Harry's cloak over herself. She put up a protego; not the layered variety, as she had neither the concentration nor the power to spare, but rather a single curved shield for anyone in her way to bounce off of.

Half a dozen students found themselves on their arses as she bulldozed her way through the castle and down the path to the shack without so much as a mumbled 'sorry'. Twice she tripped on the cobblestones, grazing her knees. The pain helped her stay focused; helped her feel something other than the numbing sense of despair falling upon her. When a dementor crossed her path, its passing marked by an icy wind, she was entirely ignored, and she wasn't the slightest bit surprised; her soul was devoid of happiness to be stolen. The universe had decided its course and set her upon it. What was a dementor before the inevitability of time?

Soon enough and all too soon she was at the shack, a few minutes early to her appointment. Punctual to the last. She cast a quick hominum revelio, and when it turned up nothing, she gained entry to the shack in the obvious manner: Transfiguring a hole in the wall. Some residual magic fought her - the trace of old wards years overdue collapse - but she punched right through it and continued. Her magical efforts were starting to tire her, but then she didn't have much longer to keep them up.

Inside, she destroyed her little plane with a flash of fire, before settling into the first corner she could find, pulling the cloak tight about herself. She was not intending to introduce herself to Black openly, not when she held the element of surprise. If he brought Ron with him, and it seemed he was every bit the criminal the Prophet claimed, one good spell should bring him down before he turned his wand to its source. The most powerful wizard in the world was only as good as his reaction time.

So it was she huddled into the corner, amongst the cobwebs and dank air and musk of rotting wood, and waited to discover her fate.

George sat in a private nook of the common room, growing increasingly concerned as he watched the footsteps labelled 'Hermione Granger' taking their unerringly straight path away from the castle. She had already passed beyond Hogwarts' wards; if she went much further, she would leave the edge of the map. The last point where he'd be able to see her would be the shrieking shack.
He might have been less worried were she not entirely alone. He would have been far less disturbed were the map able to show dementors - as it was all he could go on was her continued motion. He considered, blasphemous as it was, going to a teacher, but then… Hermione can handle herself. All that time she's been spending with Professor Lupin, and that since she took on a basilisk. The dementors aren't there to attack her anyway, so the only thing out there she might not want to run into would be-

He stared at the map, gave it a shake and stared again. Shaking didn't help; the other sets of footsteps approaching the shack remained. As did the names below.

'Sirius Black'

'Ronald Weasley'

He looked up and met the eyes of his dear brother, who had sensed his alarm. He cast his gaze about the room; strangely empty save for them, Harry, Neville and Ginny. He showed the map to his brother as he stood to approach the trio of second years, his mind whirring.

No time to find a teacher.

Four of us.

Ginny won't stay behind - five of us.

Hermione makes six.

Six students vs Sirius Black? Crazy. Reckless. Near suicidal.

Leaving Hermione to face him alone? After what she did for Ginny? Unthinkable.

Should probably save Ron, too.

"Hey, guys," he said, with shaking voice. "Got your wands with you?"

Hermione had been waiting barely five minutes before a commotion sounded in the next room over. One set of footsteps; softly vicious swearing; the slam of a door; and then Hermione was not alone. Another revelio, whispered under cover of something scraping across the floorboards, pinged two people besides her. Black and Ron?

"Where is she?" a gravelly voice muttered, moving with the creaking floorboards. "Where is she? She better show. She better. Where is she, come on. Should be here. Shouldn't be here. Risky, Sirius. Too risky? No, no, need it need it."

Hermione drew further into her corner as the clearly mad man raved to himself. Her existential dread fell away, replaced by a more immediate fear. Should I just stun him? Would I even hit him, the way he's pacing about?

"God damned fucking flaky whore witch! Where are you? It's time; time! Too much time; too long, no longer, no! Where is she?"

He's completely insane. How is this going to work?

"All for nothing. You hear that, Weasley? Nothing. She ain't coming. Little bitch ain't coming. Guess you were right. Should've listened. Why did I think I could trust her? Trust anyone? Can't. Can't trust the dark ones, Sirius, you know that."

And he thinks I'm dark. Even Sirius Black thinks I'm evil. Lovely.

"Idiot! You stupid fucking idiot! Why her? Why not him? Just go straight to him, stupid fucking fool! No need for Weasley, was there, you dumb fuck? No need for the little dark witch, no need to trust anyone, just him. Could've had him by now. Could've trusted him, right? Could've had the damned rat. We were this close. Fucking Weasley! Gah!"

Hermione was starting to get confused, trying to follow his rambling. Then, finally, he started making at least a promise of sense.

"She isn't coming. She. Isn't. Coming. I'm sorry James, I'm… I thought I could… Lily, no, please Lily, I did my best. I did… no, no I know! I know it wasn't good enough, you think I don't fucking know that? I fucked up! I fucked it all up! Again! It's all my fault! And she isn't! Fucking! Coming!"

There was the thud of a man collapsing to the floor with no regard for how much it hurt.

"Why would she? She's just a kid. Sirius, you blasted fool, she's just a kid. Why, why did we read that stupid rag? She's a kid! We were kids!" Something smashed against the wall just above Hermione's head. "We were… we… even the rat wasn't evil as a kid, was he? No, James wouldn't have been his friend if he was. Moony would've sniffed him right out." Another crash. "Damnit Moony! Where were you? Where… I was rotting in that fucking cell, and Prongslet needed us, and where were you?"

Hermione couldn't let it go on. He might have been a criminal, or he might not, but he was definitely suffering. "Sirius," she said, softly.

"Wha-? Who's that? Show yourself! I'm armed you know."

"Sirius. Stop."

"Disillusionment won't hide you forever! I'm an auror! Face me, you coward! I'll take you on; I'll take you all on! I'll have my vengeance, you'll see!"

She needed to stay calm. No basilisk, no basilisk, he's no basilisk. "You won't find me, and I am not revealing myself until you calm down."

"I can find anything! I found the rat! Twice! Nothing can hide from me!"

"Not even James and Lily?"

"What? Why would they…? Who are you! Where are you!"

"I borrowed Harry's cloak. The one he got from his father."

"The cloak… Harry… Little Harry." His rage relented. "You're Granger?"

"I am."

You came."

He sounded so disbelieving, but why should he? What Gryffindor would not show up to a hostage situation? A former Gryffindor should have known that. "As if you left me a choice."

"The map?"

Hermione gulped as she chose her plan of action. It wasn't a good one, but it beat the nothing she'd been working to. "Only when you explain what you want with it."

"Give it to me."

"So you can use it to find Harry? Not likely."

"Harry? No, it's-"

He was interrupted by a sound rather like the wall of a building exploding. The shaking and sudden rush of wind supported that hypothesis, as did:

"It's him!" George shouted. "Expelliarmus!"

Harry staggered back a step, the force of Fred's spell catching him off guard. As the dust settled, he could see two figures through the hole in the wall of the shack: One sprawled on the floor, the unmoving form of a redheaded boy in Gryffindor robes; the other stood over him, brandishing a wicked knife.

Black.

"It's him!" George shouted. "Expelliarmus!"

Black dodged the bolt of light without even looking at it, not even appearing to shift his weight as he moved. A snarl escaped the madman's lips, then his eyes alighted upon Harry. Harry channelled every bit of hatred he could muster, letting it show in his face; letting the man who killed his parents know what was coming. Hermione might have had her doubts about Black, but seeing him stood over Ron like that was enough for Harry. Innocent people don't take hostages. Innocent people don't take Hermione to a crumbling shack and - where's Hermione?

Black dodged and parried another spell from each twin, then the coward was a hound, bolting from the scene of whatever nefarious deed this was. Harry threw his own spell after the mutt - the most powerful, hateful incendio he could muster - but his hand was shaking too much with rage, and his aim was off. Black was getting away.

"Bastard!" He yelled after him. "Traitor!"

"Harry?"

His head whipped around to find the source of that voice; Hermione was emerging from a corner of the room, and from under his invisibility cloak. George took her into a quick embrace of relief on his way to help his brother, his twin already there. Nev and Gin looked shellshocked, and Harry was torn; he needed to know she was safe, but Black was getting away.

"Hermione, we-"
"Ron's hurt bad," Fred declared, rising to his feet with his unconscious brother draped in his arms. "We've got to get him to Pomfrey."

"But Black…"

The twins weren't listening to him; they already had Ron across George's broom, and were ready to kick off. Fred cast a glance over his shoulder.

"Wait here; we'll send McGonagall."

Harry didn't see what waiting was going to achieve, but the twins were taking off. Hermione stumbled through the hole in the shack; Harry had to catch her, and by the time he had her righted, the twins were shotting off into the distance.

"Wait here?" Gin scoffed.

"We should head back too," Neville muttered.

Harry had other ideas. "No. You can, but I'm going after him."
"Harry, you cannot-"

"Hermione, he killed my parents; I am not letting him get away! I can't!"

"But he-"

"Are you coming?"

"Harry, listen-"

"Are you coming, or do I have to go alone?"

"I'm obviously not leaving you alone, but you-"

"Right then."

He flicked his broom up to hover, lifted Hermione onto it despite her protests, and mounted up himself.

Gin pulled up beside him, with a terrified Neville clinging to her waist.

"Race ya," she smirked.

"Harry, would you stop and-"

He nodded back with a determined grimace, grabbed Hermione's hand to put it about his own waist, and shot off the mark. Whatever she was trying to say turned to a startled scream. She stayed on though, so he pushed his broom faster.

In the distance he caught a flick of black against the orange sky as Black crested a rise. With his quarry found and his broom under him, he cast everything else from his mind. The danger, Hermione's scattered words in his ear, any thoughts of whether Gin could keep up with him; all pushed aside by the howling winds of the chase.

Sirius was fast, even for a dog. But Harry was fast for a Firebolt. The hound only evaded him by diving into the edge of the forbidden forest, keeping the trees between hunter and prey. Harry dared not enter, not with Hermione on the back, but he never lost sight of Sirius as they headed for the Black Lake. There was no way Sirius could see their destination; he couldn't see the trees would be coming to an end just up ahead. I'll take him there. Drop out of the sky right on top of the bastard.

"Are you even listening to me, Harry Potter?" Hermione screeched, finding enough lungpower to break through his trance.

He wavered a moment, but then a streak of black burst from the treeline below him. "Hold on!" he shouted, like she wasn't already digging her nails right through his robes, as he threw them into a steep dive. He'd practiced the Wronski Feint a hundred times, and only clipped the ground twice, but with the extra weight on the back…

His toes skimmed the gravelly beach as he swerved around in front of the fleeing dog, cutting off Black's escape route. Gin was coming in hard behind them, closing off the retreat. He's surrounded! We've got him! Harry jumped from the broom and then, with a hundred pounds of canine barrelling toward him, realised he had once again not thought things through… And put Hermione directly in the line of a murderer by doing so.

He threw what spells he could, doing his best to block out Hermione's panicked shouting, but fast as Sirius had been as a man, he was untouchable as a dog. From a firebolt it had been impossible to appreciate just how rapidly the hound covered ground. From said ground, Harry had all of three seconds to find out the hard way.

Dog crashed into boy, bringing both to the ground in a tumble of limbs, and somewhere in the middle of it all paws became hands; hands holding a wand to Harry's throat.

"Get out of my-"

"Go on then, do it!" Harry screamed. "Finish it!"

There was such murderous fire in Black's eyes, it was startling how quickly it went out. "James?" Black whispered.

"James? My father is dead. You should know, it's you who killed him!"

"No, no I didn't-"

"You sold them out! You-"

"Harry! Stop it!" Hermione yelled.

"Run!" He yelled back. If I can just buy her a little time, maybe Gin can fly them all away.

"Why?" he spat in the man's face. "Before you kill me, tell me why."

"Kill you?"

"That's the plan, isn't it? You killed my parents, now you're here to finish the job."

"Your parents… you're… Harry?"

Confusion showed in Black's harsh features; his wand wavered away from Harry's throat; and Harry took the chance. He ripped the wand from Sirius' grip and drove a knee up into his stomach, before rolling away. When he came to his feet, Sirius was rising too, scant paces away and panting. Behind him Gin and Nev were spreading out to keep him trapped.

Harry threw the wand he took to the ground, and pointed his own. "Why?"

Sirius' response was a blank, unmoving stare. Harry finally got a chance to look at the man - to really look. His clothes were torn almost to rags, his skin equally battered, and bones showed where they ought not to, he was so starved. The years in Azkaban had not been kind to him. Good.

"He trusted you!" Harry shouted, staggering back a step to Hermione's side. She reached out but didn't find him. "He was… he was your friend!"

A moment of quiet - a challenge unanswered - before:

"HE WAS MY BROTHER!"

Sirius' cry split the air, and echoed back from the far side of the lake into the silence it created.

"Our brother."

Harry turned to see Professor Lupin stepping onto the beach, wand casually drawn, a grim expression the only sign he was anything but serene. "He was my brother too, Sirius. I only wish I had told him that."

"Moony?"

"You should not have come here."

"I had to. I… I'm sorry Moony. I- I wasn't, I couldn't-"

"You have an awful lot to be sorry for, Padfoot," Lupin snarled as he approached the man. "As do I."

Harry stared in shock as Lupin embraced Black, burying a head into his shoulder.

"Moony, I didn't, it wasn't-"

Harry couldn't think straight… Lupin, in leagues with the criminal? Helping him get into the castle, no doubt. Helping him get close enough to finish what he started.

"You- you traitor! Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

Harry's spell struck the shield and crashed into the gravel.

"Hermione?" he sputtered, staring at her through the shimmer of the shield she had thrown up between them. "What are-"

"For fuck's sake, Harry James Potter, you absolute dunderhead!" she screamed at him, not lowering her wand. "You complete and utter, utter… you twat!"

"You're with them?" he gaped, not wanting to believe it; perhaps not able.

"With who? With your Godfather?" She took another step, bringing her closer to them than to him. "Yes, yes I bloody well am, and if you would stop and listen for two damned seconds then you would be too! Idiot!"

"But he killed my parents. Everyone knows it."

Despite everything, she still managed to look primly smug. "I know better. Black is innocent."

"I don't believe it."

"You should."

He snorted. "Well, forgive me for not."

She took her wand off him then - to cross her arms in a way that had him almost as nervous as the criminal beside her. "No."

"What?"

"No, I do not forgive you. If you still cannot trust me, after everything… then I don't know what else to say. If my word is not enough for you, then I will not - cannot - forgive you for making me think, even for one solitary second, that it would be. But, regardless," - Her wand twitched in the crook of her elbow; that it no longer pointed at him was no comfort when he knew some of what it was capable of. He knew too well her repertoire didn't require aiming. "I will stop you doing something you'll regret."

"Harry…" Neville said, keeping his distance still. "I don't have a clue what's going on, but Hermione tends not to be wrong."

"Can say that again," Gin muttered.

With his friends turning against him, Harry's resolve took a blow it could barely survive. His wand dipped. "Explain," he growled.

"Sirius isn't here for you. I would say he's hunting whoever framed him. Whoever really sold your parents out to Voldemort."

"And who's that?"

"Black?" Hermione called over her shoulder, to the man locked in a desperate embrace, who was looking less and less capable of murder by the second. "Tell us: Who is the rat?"

Hermione had finally figured it all out on the back of Harry's broom. The Sherlock philosophy had never made more sense; a relief, that, as nothing else about Sirius Black did. Why didn't his motives match his actions (assuming he wanted Harry dead); how could his methods speak of insanity while his ability to infiltrate suggested a calm, calculated mind; and how could a man who betrayed his best friend and Godson be so utterly destroyed when he thought a stranger had done the same to him?

Those questions had spun in her mind, unanswerable, impossible, until she came upon the answer in the form of an entirely different question: How does a man wind up serving life in Azkaban if he is, in fact, innocent?

The same way as ever: The people in charge don't care enough to check their damned facts.

"Black?" Hermione called over her shoulder, thinking it better to come straight from the source; thinking the poor man deserved to have the truth spread from his own lips. "Tell us: Who is the rat?"

"The rat. That fucking rat! Wormtail… he's the one. He sold us out Moony, he sold us out. Little bastard. Scuttled right off to You-Know-Who, damned coward. I tried, I tried to catch him… I'm sorry James. I tried to avenge you."

"Sirius, his name?"

"Peter," he spat, with a hatred that could not be faked. "Peter Pettigrew."

"You switched secret keeper," Lupin breathed.

"My idea. My stupid idea. It's all my fault."

"No. You couldn't have known. We didn't know."

"He was a rat! A stinking, snivelling little rat! Should've known from the beginning, should've; whose form is a rat?"

"Sorry," Harry interrupted, "but… What?"

"Really Harry, keep up. Your Godfather is innocent. He was framed by the rat, who is…" She trailed off into a nasty realisation. "Oh, oh my God. Parvati said Scabbers was always getting in her things, but then he, and we would have, and ooh I am going to kill that rat!"

"That… didn't help. No, wait… a rat? How does that - animagus?"

"Good deduction, Harry," Lupin noted. "A touch late, but better than never. Not that I can talk; twelve years and I never figured it out. Merlin, twelve years. I'm so sorry, Sirius."

Black laughed. "Yeah. Yeah Moony, you Siriusly screwed the pooch on that one."

"Did he actually make that joke?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"His humour always was terrible," Lupin sighed.

"No, I mean, we're stood out on - is this the lake shore? - in the open with a wanted man, it's after curfew, and we're joking now? Shouldn't we be figuring out some sort of a plan? We need to at least get Black safe until we can clear his name, and the twins have no doubt raised the alarm by now."

"The twins? But, you weren't-"

"Point is, we need to get to it," she insisted, bringing her hand s up to rub her arms against the lake's chill. "Professor Lupin, is there anywhere safe to take Black, somewhere the… dementors… can't…"

The lake isn't this cold in summer.

"We need to…"

There wasn't a cold wind a minute ago.

"Oh no."

She didn't know how, even in all the chaos, she had forgotten what she was heading towards. '"I would never play games with time travel," Luna intoned, utterly sincere. "But there's only one of you here."'

"Please no."

"Hermione, what-"

"Dementors," Lupin hissed. "With Pads here, they'll be aggressive. Miss Granger, how is that patronus coming along? Miss Granger? Hermione?"

Fingers snapping in her ear dragged her back from the brink of panic. "I, I never got it to… why? Can't you…?" she mumbled.

"I'm afraid," he said through gritted teeth, "having just discovered I let my best friend rot for twelve years, I may not be up to the task."

Now he mentioned it, she could hear the tears he was holding back. Or for all she knew, letting roll freely down his face. That would be nice: Being able to cry. Plenty of reason to. They wouldn't blame me, if they knew. If they…

Something was thrown about her shoulders; something light, and flexible. A cloak. Harry's; she hadn't even noticed it come off. She wanted to tell him it wouldn't help her; that he should keep it. She wanted to thank him for trying. She wanted to kiss him, properly, just to know how it felt.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. He obviously didn't hear her, as he said nothing, but Luna would tell him later. If he got to have a 'later'.

No, fuck that. Fuck 'if'. I don't get an if, so neither does he. Not on my watch. He will get to hear it, if it's the last thing I do.

Not 'if'.

"My patronus," Hermione snarled, "has not yet deigned to show itself." She raised her wand to the sky, aiming into the biting wind. She dove deep into her better state of mind, blocking out the fear and the sadness, focusing on what she was saving. "So just say when."

Lupin's answer was a muted whimper as the aura of countless demons enveloped them. The chill deepened until she felt the blood might freeze in her veins. There was screaming, hoarse and defeated, and she could hear her own screams as well, though her mouth was closed. They weren't her screams in that moment, but the memory of another time; of a terrible Halloween with a bathroom and a troll. The dementors were closing, just as the troll had, only this time there would be no rescue. She was the rescue. But she was failing, her magic bottling up even before she tried to cast, and Harry was going to pay for her failure with his life. Then she would join him.

On her knees now, she accepted that she would die out by the Black Lake; blind, alone, and helpless. She needed Harry's support more than ever, but Harry couldn't help her when she was meant to be helping him. There would be no hand tentatively placed on her shoulder, no reckless charge into the fray. No one to stand before the basilisk, and collapse into her arms when the danger had passed. No stolen kiss in the infirmary, willing him to come back to her, needing him to, because damn it, he was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

No quiet, worn out voice telling her it was alright; worrying more over her than himself no matter how injured he may be; blessing her ears with a whisper. They were going to take him from her, and her from him, but at least they couldn't take those memories; she would die with them fixed in her mind.

An ember of Gryffindor spirit inside her took issue with that. She had faced death before, but never so defeated, and it didn't like the feeling. Didn't accept it. Better to die on your feet; to kick and bite and scream; to rage against the dying light.

With her treasured memories holding firm against the dementors' torture, she had found a way to fight. Slowly, feeling as if lifting thrice her weight, she rose to stand. The fatigue, the screaming, the ringing in her ears; she blocked them all out, and let herself get lost in her last sliver of hope. Let her wand lift of its own accord; let her mouth form the words as she channelled every ounce of power into one last effort to save her friends.

Her patronus had never shown itself, because she had never needed it to. It would now. At the darkest hour; with Harry by her side; In extremis.

Hell of a way to go out.

"EXPECTO! PATRO-"

Reality lurched, killing the spell on her lips. What?

"No…"

Time folded in on itself, tearing her from Harry's side.

"No. No, no, no!"

The churning ceased; the chill disappeared. She dropped to her knees, despair turning to something worse, a mile away and an hour in the past.

A/N:

Who loves discovering major plot holes in their third act and then getting bent over a barrel by writer's block trying to correct them?
I didn't.