The daze that Sirius left the Hospital Wing in was soon replaced with a distracted conglomeration of worried thoughts as he ran through the events of the evening. The altercation with Marlene and Lily left something sour crawling up the back of his throat. It conflicted with the stomach churning knowledge of how they could die, making him feel nearly guilty for the situation he was in with Marlene even though he knew she was in the wrong.
He walked through the portrait hole, unsurprised to see his friends still sitting around the hearth. Their postures became much more alert when they caught sight of him and he knew that they had questions. He hadn't been forthright with them about Hermione, and he was sure that Marlene and Lily's entrance to the common room so soon after he and Hermione left was noted by them as well.
"So," drawled James. He was reclined on the couch, a foot up on the coffee table and his arms draped wide over the back. "We've let you get away with it for too long now. It's time you spill about the whole Hermione thing that's going on." There was a devious smirk on his face.
"You didn't actually dump Marlene for Hermione did you?" Asked Peter from his seat on the floor.
"Of course I didn't!" Said Sirius indignantly, flopping down on the other side of James. He glared at the fire, feeling exasperated that everyone was jumping to that conclusion. Hermione didn't have anything to do with him and Marlene. It was just an ill timed coincidence that he came to the realization that casual physical relationships weren't what he wanted around the same time he met Hermione.
"That's besides the point," intoned Remus. He hadn't moved from his armchair. His brown eyes steadily on Sirius. "You been sneaking out for over a month to see this girl in the hospital wing and barely said anything to us about her. We've been nice and refrained from pestering you but the questions are accumulating." He crossed his arms and tilted his head back to rest against the wing of the armchair.
Sirius scraped a hand down his face, sighing. He knew that this was coming, he's friends could be disastrously curious sometimes and it was almost shocking that they hadn't cornered him about it sooner. The only reason he knew they hadn't was because they had Peter spy on him the morning after Hermione showed him and Dumbledore her memory. If the familiar scuttling sound wasn't enough to give him away, the way Petes bed curtains were closed when he got back to the dorm was a dead giveaway. Peter never closed those curtains.
He was pretty sure it was an isolated incident and his friends didn't know more than the fact that Hermione was in a severe state and that he kept her company, but he couldn't be sure.
"What questions do you have?" He said, still scowling into the fire.
He didn't need to look at his friends to know they were all glancing at each other. Peter cleared his throat.
"How did she end up in the 7th floor corridor?" He asked timidly, reading Sirius' body language.
"Portkey," Sirius replied simply, he was glancing around at his friends, noting their unimpressed expressions at his answer. He sighed. "Look, most of what I know she wants to tell you herself."
"Yeah, but how much of what we're going to hear is true? You have to admit your cagey-ness about even visiting her for over a month is suspicious. Why would you keep it to yourself if there wasn't a secret?" Asked James, crossing his arms.
Sirius looked at him without turning his head then glanced around at his friends, his eyes pausing a second longer on Peter before he looked back at James. He contemplated his answer. There wasn't a way to tell them the truth. Not yet at least. Not when alliances were still in question and events could still play out poorly. The only assurance he had was that there was no way he would suggest anyone but himself as Secret Keeper now.
It suddenly struck him how exhausting it was going to be. Even if they could prevent the worst of it, there was no way to stop the war entirely. No matter what there would be war, secrets, and losses. They only could hope to end things quickly and prevent the most egregious events and betrayals.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
"You're right," he confirmed, nodding his head at James and glancing at the rest of his friends. "There are secrets. And whatever they are I need you to trust me that they are secret for a reason." He could see the furrowed brow on Peter and Remus' faces as they glanced at each other, and James opened his mouth to protest. "The only reason I know these secrets is because when I found her she wasn't in her right mind to keep it hidden from me." He couldn't help the slight grimace at the memory of her exsanguinating from seizing in the moon-lit corridor.
James looked ready to argue with him but Remus cut in first. "I can accept that," he said. A self deprecating smile crossed his face. "I, of all people, understand having secrets. It would be hypocritical for me to ask you to break her confidence when you've kept mine. I also trust you wouldn't keep a secret from us that didn't need to be kept."
James seemed to deflate, unable to argue. He crossed his arms and said, "I can agree to that. But that won't stop us from trying to put together the mystery on our own." James gave Sirius a hard stare.
A smile pulled onto Sirius' face, knowing that was the best concession he could hope for. They would respect the boundary that he couldn't say anything, but that didn't mean they wouldn't try to figure it out for themselves. He couldn't blame them, if he was in their shoes he'd do the same.
"Can you at least tell us how she was injured?" Peter asked, his watery blue eyes looking up at Sirius. There was worry in his face, and it became all the more astonishing that he could ever betray them.
"Torture," Sirius closed his eyes and knocked his head back against the back of the couch, his fists white knuckled. "She nearly died in my arms." He swallowed back the acid trying to slither up his throat. "She's still not very well."
There was an uncomfortable silence as they all let the information settle. None of them looked surprised, but there was anger displayed in the clenching of fists, narrowing of eyes, and heavy, controlled breathing.
"I had hoped it was something closer to splinching than that," murmured Peter, sounding like he was close to tears. Sirius could sympathize, he had cried the night he met Hermione too.
"Is that why you treat her like that?" Asked Remus.
"Treat her like what?" Sirius replied, he felt his ears warming, but refused to acknowledge it.
"Oh, I don't know," said Remus, his demeanor shifting at the sight of Sirius' red ears. A slow grin caught on his face.
Sirius watched him wearily glancing at James as he took his foot off the table and leaned forwards, a matching grin spreading across his face. "If we didn't know better, one would think you treat her like she's the future mother of your babies."
Sirius choked on air, indignantly spluttering for a response. "I do not!"
Peter had a thoughtful look on his face, nodding. "Actually that's pretty accurate."
They all just laughed at his expression, obviously enjoying his uncharacteristic embarrassment. Sirius just sat with his arms crossed, staring back into the fire, his face felt warm and his ears felt like they were on fire.
They eventually sobered enough for James to bring back the conversation to sincerity. "Honestly though, you treat her much more carefully than any of the girls here, and you've known them for going on 6 years," he said, nudging Sirius' thigh with a socked foot.
They all looked at him expectantly. Moony cocked an eyebrow at him.
"What do you want me to say?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow in rebuttal. How could he explain? It wasn't as simple as 'she's pretty,' or 'I'm worried about her.' How could he tell them that she came into his life like a wish on a falling star? Hermione knew him, he could see it in her eyes when she talked to him, feel it in the way she drew comfort from him. She needed him like no one had ever needed him, and made him feel a closeness he hadn't thought was possible. How could he explain the inexplicable?
The Marauders just watched him, waiting for him to give them an actual answer. An honest answer. They were the only people he had ever shared his feelings with, they knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. Their intention to get an answer about this said something about what they saw in this relationship between himself and Hermione. He knew he had to be honest. At least as honest as he could without giving away secrets.
"She's the first person to actually need me," he said, clearing his throat and closing his eyes. "She's lost everything, and somehow I've been enough. I never realized how much I needed to be needed until she needed me." It was a poor explanation. But he couldn't explain the feeling of her eyes landing on him and having her trust and affection envelope him. She was a stranger to him but being near her felt like finally coming home. "When I see her it's like something inside me says, 'This is one of mine.'"
It was quiet for a moment before James spoke up. "Well, I can tell that's not the whole of it, but it's enough. If she's one of your's, she's one of ours."
Sirius opened his eyes and glanced at his friends to see them all nodding in agreement. A great flood of affection for his friends passed over him. The unconditional acceptance they had for her just because it was important to him was impossible to denigrate.
"Also, anyone who can make you this flustered is worth keeping around," said Remus with a stupid grin.
Friday rolled around quite quickly for Hermione. Spending her time with the Marauders made time fly by in fits of laughter and strangely peaceful moments out on the grounds or in the common room doing homework. It distracted her from her circumstances, they didn't leave her much time to sit in her own thoughts when they were accompanying her everywhere, even heading to the library where James, Peter, and Remus watched in utter amazement at the stacks of books Sirius got down for her to choose from. Their incredulous looks continued when she checked out 8 books Tuesday afternoon and returned
6 on Friday.
"How do you have time to read like that?" Peter asked as they left the library and made their way to Transfiguration.
"I just read fast," Hermione said with a shrug. She walked between Peter and Sirius, who still insisted on carrying her bag and her extra books, so he was looking more like a pack horse than a teen heartthrob, but Hermione couldn't dissuade him. James or Remus would occasionally take pity on him and relieve him of some of the burden and take her books from him.
They meandered into the classroom, nearly the first to arrive with only a couple of students chatting across the room. Peter was still gaping at Hermione as they took their seats. "But how? You spend most of the day in class, breakfast, lunch, and dinner with us plus, after class you do homework with us. That only leaves free periods- which you also spend with us- and before you go to bed. I can't imagine Madame Pomfrey let's you stay up late."
"I usually wake up an hour before I get up," Hermione said, bopping her head up and down, as though that explained it all, as she bent over her bag that Sirius put down beside her and pulled out parchment and quill. Lamenting her preferred pens, pencils, and highlighters for the umpteenth time that week. Muggle stationary was significantly more convenient.
"That's still not enough time to read six books in less than 3 days!" cried Peter. James just nodded along his eyes wide with incredulity and Remus shook his head with his lips tucked in, suppressing his laughter.
Sirius just openly laughed at them. "You should have seen my surprise when she finished our Transfiguration and History of Magic textbooks in a week." This made even Remus goggle at her.
"It's easier to get through when you don't have homework attached to them!" she said quickly at their expressions. "And that was before I was coming to class."
"I'm impressed. Those textbooks are massive," commented Remus as he pulled out his own class materials and began his note taking prep.
Professor McGonagall had approached them unnoticed in her animagus form and transformed by their desks. It startled Hermione slightly, making her jump but she calmed down with Sirius' hand against her shoulder blade, and McGonagall gave her a warm, somewhat apologetic smile that somewhat contradicted with her black hair pulled back in a severe knot, and her straight, strictly ironed and starched emerald robes.
"Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore asked me to pass along this note to you," she said, handing Hermione the note.
"Oh, Thank you, Professor," Hermione smiled up at McGonagall, who responded in kind and returned to her desk to rummage through her notes.
Hermione opened the note and read the loopy script.
Miss Granger,
I would be pleased if you could make it to my Office around 8:00 tonight.
I enjoy Lemon Drops,
Albus Dumbledore
She handed the note to Sirius and watched him read the note and frown. "Quidditch tryouts are tonight, though," he said, concern coloring his voice. A sneer pulled at his lips as it dawned on him. "I'll ask Afify if we can try out the beaters first. Don't go without me," he said, turning his eyes to look intently into her's.
Hermione just nodded, understanding his concern. Dumbledore was trying to get to her alone. She didn't think he would do anything harmful to her but she understood Sirius' concern. Dumbledore was capable of pulling strings that she didn't even realize were there and having a second head with her would help keep a closer eye on what could be brewing in those periwinkle eyes.
The other Marauders were oddly quiet, though they did peer at them with odd, questioning looks. It was strange to her that they hadn't said anything, in fact, it felt strange that they hadn't questioned much of anything about her. She had always imagined them to be relentless in the face of a mystery, much like Harry was. She wondered if Sirius had said anything to them.
Class was its usual affair, although both James and Sirius were grumbling that Professor McGonagall seemed to like Hermione more than them. It was the last class before dinner so when they were finally released they all headed up to Gryffindor Tower to drop off their things and let the two Quidditch players get into training gear before they head down to dinner.
Hermione, Remus, and Peter sat in their usual seats chatting while they waited to head down to dinner.
"The whole James and Lily thing has been going on since first year. Don't let James tell you otherwise," said Peter after she asked.
"Yeah, he was sticking toads into her book bag from day one, but he'd tell you that he didn't notice her romantically until third year," added Remus. He was flopped down on the couch next to her, slouched down far enough into the couch that his back was mostly on the seat.
Hermione laughed at the image, a little Harry lookalike slipping toads into a small redheads bag. It made her wonder what Harry would have been like if he had been raised by his parents, maybe he would have had more confidence off the quidditch field. Would Harry have noticed Ginny sooner? James would probably have loved Ginny- the Potter boys really seemed to have a thing for fiery gingers.
How much of their lives will be different if she succeeds in changing the future? Will she still be born and grow up to be friends with Harry and Ron? Or will she never exist? Did it matter in the grand scheme of things if she ceased to exist so long as that terrible future remains only a nightmare? She didn't think that was a bad trade. If all their lives, the security of the entire British wizarding world would be safe, her own future was a small price.
It would be worth it, but that didn't make her feel better. Her life before would be-was- erased. Her adventures, her relationships, her achievements; gone, in a scattering of sand and blood. Her memories were the only evidence of everything she used to know and love.
Hermione didn't realize she had retreated into her own thoughts until Remus knocked her in the knee with his knuckles. "Hey, you okay?" He asked, a frown gracing his face as he sat up to look her over. "What's wrong?"
Hermione looked up at his familiar brown eyes, her mind taking a second to recall that this wasn't Professor Lupin. "Nothing, I just was remembering something," she said, feeling the oddly brittle smile stretch uncomfortably on her face.
Remus just eyed her, glancing briefly at Peter who also had a look of confusion on his face. "Here," he said, reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out a bar of chocolate. He broke off a piece and handed it to her with a smile. "Chocolate always helps," he smiled that reassuring smile she remembered so well.
She took the chocolate, and took a small bite, letting the sudden burst of sweetness wake up her tongue and anchor her back to the common room, reminding her that she exists here and now. That her life hasn't been invalidated by her circumstances and that even without the people that loved her in her life she had people who were beginning to care for her now, and people who she loved even if they didn't know her.
Sirius came bounding down the stairs and clambered over the back of the couch to sit next to Hermione, arm automatically draping itself over her shoulders, his hand fingering an errant curl. He grinned around at them and Hermione couldn't help the small admiring smirk at his happy, handsome features.
"Jamie Boy is still primping, he wants Evans to notice him in his new training kit," he said, laughing infectiously, setting them all off into chuckles.
They didn't have to wait long, James came down while they were all still laughing. He grinned at them, his hair extra ruffled and the whiff of cologne that subtly graced them when he got close sent them off into more giggles. "What's the joke?" he asked, perplexed but still smiling.
"Nothing, Prongs," wheezed Remus. "You planning on asking Lily to the first Hogsmeade weekend coming up?" They all stood up and headed for the portrait hole, and James was properly distracted by explaining how he planned on asking Lily to Hogsmeade. Sirius was for once free of holding extra baggage as they tucked most of her things up in their dormitory for safe keeping. She just carried her notebook and pencil, and one of the muggle novels she got when she was at Flourish & Blotts.
After dinner and her evening round of potions were taken under the watchful eyes of the Marauders, they headed down to the Quidditch pitch. Despite Peter and Remus' earlier disdain of the activity, they decided to keep Hermione company in the stands.
Hermione watched the crowd of hopefuls, easily picking out the two dark haired boys holding their brooms. Sirius approached a slightly older boy, who she guessed was captain and started talking to him. The older boy-Afify, she remembered- nodded and smiled, smacking Sirius on the shoulder in easy camaraderie. Sirius glanced up at the stands and caught her eye and gave her a grin and a wink that had something swooping in her stomach. She smiled back at him, ignoring the sensation, and decoded the exchange to deduce that Afify agreed to try out the beaters first, which given that it was 6:30 and the crowd of prospects was quite large, was a relief. If everything went well, the beaters would be decided in time for Hermione to go to Dumbledore's office.
The trio in the stands set themselves up quite comfortably with books and in Peters case several reams of parchment and a quill. Hermione occasionally would look up and watch the drills being run on the pitch. Sirius was really an excellent flyer, and also very strong given how powerfully he hit the bludgers. She hadn't given it much thought before, but Sirius had carried her - twice, and once with the added weight of their bags- quite effortlessly. It was odd, most of the time she spent with him she couldn't help but see him as almost a younger cousin to her Sirius. Sure they shared a name, eyes, similar bone structure, but this Sirius wasn't fully grown, was missing a bit of height and brawn, and a certain hardness about his person, but she was beginning to see where the edges overlapped.
Sirius was having a great time as he zoomed down the pitch, his bat in hand. Afify had set up targets around the pitch for prospective beaters to aim towards. Two prospective beaters were set out with a single bludger and pitted against each other. Whoever could hit the most targets or knock the other off their brooms would win their round. Then they would take the final four beaters left who would play in pairs to figure out who works best with each other.
Luckily for Sirius there weren't many beaters compared to the other positions. So, he was able to work quickly so they could finish the beater tryouts before Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore.
He had a hard time not glancing up at the stands to see how Hermione was reacting to him on the pitch. There was something about having her up there that made his blood rush in determination and Afify seemed to notice.
"Nice job, Black! Got some practice in over the summer, did you?" He cheered and clapped Sirius on the back once more.
Sirius just grinned and watched as Afify turned to start working on chasers. Sending a grin and a quick thumbs up to James, Sirius mounted his broom once more and flew up to the stands, landing a seat down from Hermione.
"Ready to go?" He asked, holding out his hand to her. She nodded and grasped his hand throwing a hasty goodbye to Remus and Peter over her shoulder as she stepped down. They had to rush to get to the ugly gargoyle before 8:00, but Sirius was constantly aware of Hermione's harsh breathing and the perspiration that started to pepper her forehead and slowed them down. "He'll have to deal if we are a couple minutes late," he said, with a frown as she let out a dry cough.
He turned to her and grabbed both of her shoulders to halt her. "I'm fine," she said with a slight rattle. Her curls were fizzy from their rush, and guilt prodded at the back of his mind for making her hurry. She must have caught the look because she shook her head and said, "I'm okay, Sirius. It's just been a while since I've had to keep up with a quidditch player, I'm out of practice." She gave him a reassuring smile.
"Are you sure, Kitten?" He wasn't totally convinced, there was a fine trembling in her shoulders as she breathed in and out. His mind scrambled though when she leaned up and bumped the top of her head under his chin gently, her scent of warm spices invading his mind.
"I'm sure, Sirius," she affirmed, with an odd melancholy expression invading her eyes despite the smile on her face. She hooked her arm in his and tugged him along.
They reached the gargoyle and gave it the password, ascended the stairs and knocked on the door. The circular room was exactly the way Sirius remembered it the last time he was in it, when Dumbledore, in essence, asked him to spy on Hermione.
He watched as Hermione strode in directly towards the perch off to the side of Dumbledore's desk where a flaming red phoenix sat. The creature hadn't been present when Sirius had been here before, and he couldn't help the awe he felt at the sight of the creature.
"Hello, Fawkes," said Hermione, holding her hand towards the bird. "I never got to meet you, but I heard all about you. You saved some good friends of mine." Fawkes had incredibly intelligent eyes, and they considered her for a moment before he tilted his feathery head into Hermione's hand, allowing her to stroke him down his back.
Sirius came up beside her, holding out his own hand but not saying anything. Fawkes observed him, making him feel oddly stripped down, like this bird was assessing his entire character before he leaned in to allow Sirius to stroke him.
"Fawkes is an excellent judge of character," said the low, distinguished voice of Dumbledore, who had walked in from a side chamber behind the desk.
Sirius and Hermione looked up at the man as he sat down in his gilded, high backed chair and motioned them to sit.
"I believe it's time to start going over some of your memories, my dear," he said with a sympathetic smile.
Hermione swallowed nervously. "Yes, Professor. Where should we start?"
"How about from the beginning? First year at Hogwarts."
Sirius felt a sense of foreboding. He had seen the annotations in the journal, saw the various points that Dumbledore wanted to see and explore, he couldn't help but feel like it was unnecessary to drag Hermione through every traumatic event she'd been through. He didn't like the idea of making her go through any of it again, but wouldn't it make more sense to pick out the key points?
"Is there anything we really need to see out of her first few years that can't be gone over through discussion?" He crossed his arms eyeing the old man.
"Perhaps," said the Headmaster, steepling his fingers. "I believe that in her time, the years she spent at Hogwarts were a latticework of plots."
"It might be better to work backwards, actually," said Hermione. She looked uncomfortable, her fingers fidgeted against the journal in her lap. "I mean, you already know the most relevant things up until my fifth year, and while yes there might be more for you to learn from those years with memories, my sixth year and the year after we left school are when the threads come together, and will tell you what I- we- must do to prevent that future from happening."
"Hm, perhaps you're right, Miss Granger," smiled the Professor. He waved his hand and a stone bowl and a rack containing a number of empty stoppered tubes appeared. "Please provide the memory you find most relevant to your sixth year, my dear."
Hermione placed the tip of her wand to her temple and stared at the bowl. After what felt like an uncomfortably long time she pulled the wand away and a thin silvery wisp pulled, clingingly like a cobweb from her mind. She deposited it in the bowl and watched it swirl around. Sirius watched it, faces swam in the gaseous liquid. Some he didn't know, some that he felt he vaguely recognized.
He looked at Dumbledore as they both stood up. Nodding to each other they both leaned over the Pensieve.
It was odd watching people go into the Pensieve; they hunched over the stone bowl and sat there with an unnerving vacant stare. She had heard Harry describe it as though being sucked bodily into the memory, but from what she could tell, it was only their consciousness.
Hermione sat waiting for Sirius and Professor Dumbledore to come too. She knew she could enter the memory herself but having the memory of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower in her own head was enough. The terror experiencing Death Eaters running amok the school, watching her friends fighting for their lives, and seeing the broken, dead body of the most powerful wizard of the age laying unceremoniously at the base of the Astronomy tower already haunted her. She didn't need to see it in more excruciating detail than what was already in her mind.
It wasn't often in the last few weeks that she was left to her own thoughts. When she wasn't being hovered over by Madame Pomfrey, she was reading; and at night Sirius was sure to turn up to make her laugh at the latest prank the Marauders had pulled. Things had gotten even more distracting this week. The easy acceptance she found among Sirius' friends was unexpected, but appreciated, they filled her time with laughter and comfort. The few moments she did have to herself she spent reading or filling in the journal. This left little time for her thoughts to overwhelm her. But sitting there waiting for the two men to finish perusing one of her worst memories she could feel herself spiraling.
In some ways that night marked the beginning of the end for Hermione. It was the end of her schooling, the end of what little claim she had left on her childhood, and it was the beginning of war. After that night she became a soldier; making hard choices to protect others, and win against the darkness. After that night her own survival was barely a consideration, the only consideration was Harry and finding the Horcruxes. In some ways going back in time was her second chance. In others she was still fighting the same fight.
There was so much to fix, so much to prevent from happening, and all of it relied on her. She sagged into her chair, the weight of responsibility pressing into her mind. Every event, person, action needed to be assessed and broken down into smaller components; into manageable pieces she could change. But that wasn't enough. Some of the components were still too big, and she didn't even know how to start working, or which one was the most important to start on. So she would assess them again so she could break them down further. This cycle of breaking things down would continue until she lost sight of both the big picture and the smaller pieces. It was like her mind was paralyzed. It felt like trying to start a 1000 piece puzzle but you couldn't find any pieces that fit together to start.
"I think you need to breathe, girl." A haughty and familiar voice abruptly pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see one of the portraits peering at her. Unlike most of the Headmaster portraits, Phineas Nigellus Black wasn't feigning sleep.
Hermione instinctively took a large inhaling breath, her spinning mind started slowing down drastically.
"Oh."
"You've dragged my descendant into something, didn't you," Phineas eyed her for a moment before looking at the younger Black in the room.
"Not intentionally," she murmured, also glancing at Sirius.
"Hm…" he hummed suspiciously, but Hermione chose to ignore it and pulled out her novel and turned to the page she left off on. She let herself be absorbed into the story, letting her psyche relax.
It was some time later that she heard movement. Sirius slumped into his seat while Dumbledore gracefully stood up. She bookmarked her novel and looked up at them. Sirius looked distraught, his face was pale as he stared at her.
"Horcruxes?" He said, his hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. "Multiple?"
Hermione nodded. "We know he was attempting seven." It wasn't a wonder that he knew what Horcruxes were, his family attempted to indoctrinate him into the world of dark magic since he was an infant.
"That is indeed distressing news," said Dumbledore, there was a distinct note of despair in his voice.
"That's what we were doing on the run. Our mission was to find the rest of the Horcruxes and destroy them. The locket ended up being a fake, but the diary was the first one and Harry destroyed it in our second year with the basilisk fang."
Although she was now looking at Dumbledore, she could feel the distinct presence of Sirius' eyes on her.
"So, that is our main priority," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes peering at her through his half-moon spectacles with a resigned air. "Find and destroy the Horcruxes."
"Yes, sir. With no Horcruxes, Voldemort is vulnerable to death."
"What do you know?"
"The diary was the first, unless it changed location it should be at Malfoy manor. He murdered the girl we know as Moaning Myrtle." That caused a reaction. The Headmaster seemed to sit up a little straighter, and his eyes became that little bit more stony. She knew she just unveiled a mystery that had been haunting Dumbledore for some time. Hermione continued as though she hadn't noticed. "The Gaunt Ring was next, I believe it was the cause of your necrosis in your hand during my sixth year. It should be at the Gaunt's house. You destroyed that one."
The next part she was going to talk about had her nervous. She swallowed and turned her eyes to Sirius, who still looked pale faced but obviously was refusing to let any more of his anxiety show. She spoke while watching him, hoping that he would understand that she would do anything to correct this fate.
"I don't know when it was created, but Salazar Slytherin's locket was turned into a Horcrux and hidden on an island sometime before 1981. Regulus Black stole it but died before he could destroy it." She saw Sirius' eyes dilate a split second before he stood, his hands white knuckled.
"That's impossible," he snarled in such a way that would have scared her if his silver ringed, black eyes saw her, but they didn't. He was staring at the floor, his eyes wet and his face pulled into a hard mask as he tried to reign in the shock. She stood and reached out for him. She thumbed over his wrist, feeling the way his pulse raced against the pad. With a small tug she got him to focus on her.
"No, it's not impossible. Your brother died a hero. But this time we'll save him, Sirius." The weight of another life bore down on her, but she didn't stop to think about it. She watched his eyes, waited for them to contract and the pulse in his wrist to even out before he twisted his hand to grab hers.
She looked back at Dumbledore. "The rest we assumed were treasures of the other House Founders - except the Sword of Gryffindor- and his snake Nagini, who wouldn't have become a Horcrux until after his return."
Dumbledore studied them as he pondered over the information. "What of the seventh Horcrux?" He asked.
It was Hermione's turn to cringe. She had a theory. A theory she refused to contemplate before. Her mind rejected it like an incompatible organ transplant. But here, now, as she looked into those inscrutable periwinkle eyes she knew that he had drawn the same theory to mind as well.
"We never found out. But, if I'm right, it won't be made until Halloween,1981." Now her heart was the one pounding in her ears. She stared at the mahogany desk, watching the little odds and ends move around, doing who knows what. Sirius squeezed her hand.
"So, do we know for a fact that five Horcruxes exist right now?" Asked Sirius, he looked between Hermione and Dumbledore.
"I think it would be a safe bet to assume that five have been created at this point, if not we have at least a couple of years to figure it out," nodded Dumbledore, his hands back in their steeple as he contemplated the information. "I'm more concerned that we only know the whereabouts of three."
Hermione hesitated and pursed her lips for a moment. "Four." Dumbledore raised a long white eyebrow at her. She cleared her throat. "When Bellatrix was torturing me…" she felt Sirius' jerk beside her. She swallowed her unease. "She was incited by the thought that we had been in her vault at Gringotts. I think one is there in the Lestrange vault."
"Of course," sneered Sirius under his breath.
"Excellent. If we can find that, we can deduce the object of the final Horcrux," Dumbledore said, ignoring Sirius' comment. The levity was brittle in the old man's voice and face. But neither Hermione or Sirius said anything. "I think that is enough for today. We will set up more appointments to go over more of your time."
Before he could dismiss them, Hermione spoke up. "Sir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could we use your Pensieve privately? There are a few personal memories I told Sirius I would share with him." There was a brief look of suspicion that crossed Dumbledore's face, but it was gone almost before it was there. She gripped Sirius's hand tighter.
"Of course. Sirius must be interested in his own history." He nodded to them, his grandfatherly smile in place. "One more memory won't hurt for tonight."
"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione. She thought for a moment, searching for the right moment in time to show Sirius. The night they met would obviously be a memory Dumbledore would request to see so she discarded that idea, as well as any memory of him in fourth year. Instead she focused on her fifth year, where they became dear friends. After finding the memory she wanted, she put the tip of her wand to her temple and concentrated only on it. Pulling her wand tip away, feeling the odd sensation of the copied memory slipping out of her mind, she placed it in the bowl.
She looked at Sirius. "You ready?"
For the first time since they entered the office, a smile softened his face. The information she provided had caused much turmoil, but he bore it all. She hoped that the memory she was about to show him would be somehow comforting.
"Yeah," he said, tone soft.
She nodded and leaned over the bowl, Sirius following suit.
They landed in the library of Grimmauld place and for a moment Sirius didn't like the direction this memory was going until he saw the festive decoration and the tree that had the largest pile of presents he'd ever seen and the Hermione of the memory sat curled up on the couch in sleep shorts and an overlarge sweater, reading by the crackling firelight. The house was utterly silent though there was a sense the house was far from empty. The clock read that it was half past midnight, and everything felt oddly cozy and comforting. Adjectives that Sirius never thought to use for his ancestral home.
Sirius studied this vision, and marvelled at the difference he could see between present Hermione and this memory. They were obviously the same person, but her weight was much healthier. She looked soft, but strong rather than thin and frail. Her skin was a healthy pink flush rather than pallid.
Sirius watched as the door opened to admit a man. He was a handsome, broad and tall, with long, thick black hair that was tied in a messy knot at the base of his neck, yet there was something haunted, and almost emaciated, around the ephemeral edges of the man that softened when he caught sight of Hermione. His hardened face turned into a fond smile making dimples pull deeply into his cheeks, and silver eyes crinkled at the edges, glowing like burnished silver in the firelight.
The real Hermione squeezed his hand. "That's you."
Even though it shouldn't have, it shocked Sirius. He watched himself stride over to the couch and dip his hands to gently scrape Hermione's curls up. He leaned over her and looked down at her book.
"What are you reading, Kitten?"
Hermione smiled softly, leaning her head up slightly to bump him under the chin. Flipping the book over, and using her fingers as a bookmark she showed him the title. "A Christmas Carol," she said as he read the title, despite the redundancy.
"Hm….is this not on my booklist?" Asked the older Sirius, playfully as he started making tiny little braids along the side of her head.
She hummed, her eyes closing for a moment, enjoying the feeling of fingers along her scalp. "Your booklist is already long enough."
Older Sirius made a face. "How am I supposed to not feel left out when you're reading things without me?" He complained, pouting.
Hermione smiled up at him. "Am I not allowed to read without you now?"
Sirius was working on putting a small braid next to the one he just finished. "Of course not," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She laughed again, her face brightening like the first star to appear at dusk. Her eyes glittered in the firelight and the fairy lights in the tree. The fire cracked, the smell of cedar perfumed the air, and peppermint wafted from the teapot and mug on the side table.
"Do you want me to read it to you?" She asked, her head tilting to accommodate the deft fingers that moved to the other side of her head.
"Obviously," Sirius replied with mock exasperation.
With an equally mocking sigh she flipped the book to the first page and started reading in a well practiced voice:
"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner."
Sirius watched the memory with rapt attention. Watched as his older counterpart migrated to the couch. First he sat with his arm curled around her shoulder, his hand in her hair, but he eventually slid down to the pillow that was already prepared for him on her lap. He lay there, his legs hanging over the armrest and his face turned into Hermione's stomach. His eyes were closed as she ran her fingers through his now unbound hair.
The scene was of such warm contentment and practiced affection that Sirius felt an ache of want. Even knowing the trials this version of himself went through, he couldn't help but covet this sweet domesticity.
He looked at Hermione as she stood next to him; she watched on with eyes of heartbreak but also of such warm remembering that Sirius was reminded again of the loss she had been dealt. He wanted so much to take her into his arms like he had grown accustomed to doing when she was distraught or even mimic the affection he saw his grown up self displaying, but he refrained. He didn't think he could provide any true comfort for this hurt.
Somehow they watched them sit on the couch for over an hour, yet it felt like only a few minutes but eventually he heard a yawn that broke the peaceful rhythm of Hermione's voice. There was a laugh from the older Sirius as he sat up from her lap, jet black waves of his hair mussed from Hermione's finger combing. He pulled her to her feet.
"Come on, Kitten. I'll walk you up," he said, he looked down at her with that same fond smile. He held her hand as they ascended the stairs.
Hermione tried to step off at the second floor landing, but Sirius tugged at her arm to continue climbing. "Sirius, mine and Ginny's room is here," she said, perplexed. Her eyebrows furrowed.
"I know. But I want to give you your Christmas present early," he grinned at her, tugging on her arm again. "With Arthur in St. Mungo's I don't want to make it seem like I'm taking away from the seriousness of the situation, but I worked really hard on this."
An excited smile lit Hermione's face as she followed him up. He lead her to a richly stained oak door with a brushed brass door handle.
"Close your eyes," he instructed, turning towards her and hiding the door. One hand was on the doorknob while the other still clasped her hand. Hermione shut her eyes, a pert smile was on her face.
The two observers watched as Sirius opened the door and grasped her other hand, leading her backwards through the door. The room was entirely dark to them until they heard Sirius tell Hermione to open her eyes, then the room was revealed.
It was a cozy room that looked very similar to the downstairs library except less ostentatious. The colors were warm toned reds and golds with. It was somewhat reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room. There was a comfortable couch and an armchair against one wall, a desk in the corner and all but one of the walls was lined in nearly empty bookcases.
Hermione looked around the room a little bemused until she caught sight of one of the bookcases that had one full shelf lined with books. She walked closer, a small gasp escaped her.
"These are mine," she said, looking back at Sirius with a question on her face.
"I fixed this room up for you," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets seemingly suddenly bashful. "I added a few books that I had Moony get in Muggle London that I thought looked interesting in a catalog."
"You built me a library," she said, her eyes round, taking in the little details of the room; a little scratching post and pillow lined basket for Crookshanks, muggle stationary neatly arranged on the desk, a window seat with gauzy curtains, a beautiful wall clock that was perfectly situated across from the couch, and many other small touches that were obviously curated with care. "My own library." The disbelief was clear in her voice.
Seeing the shocked but positive reaction, Sirius removed his hands from his pockets and grinned at her disbelieving face. "It's not very full, yet. I figure you have more books you want to add and we can both add more books to it overtime, so it's more of a work in progress than anything."
Hermione turned her eyes on him, wide and glittering amber in the fairy lights that he had set up to edge the bookcases. She ran to him, leaping up to wrap her arms around him. He caught her around the waist and let her feet hang for a moment before carefully setting her down on the ground. She didn't let go at first, loosening her arms only to turn her head and kiss him on his cheekbone.
"Thank you, Sirius," she said, eyes wet but no tears spilled. She was grinning uncontrollably and he just laughed with joy that chased away the lingering shadows around his face.
The scene faded away, and they fell out of the memory. The vision lingered in Sirius' mind and he hoped to see more memories like it, and perhaps create his own. He turned his eyes to look at Hermione as she stood next to the pensieve, eyes glossy and shadowed even as a small fond curl played at the corners of her mouth.