"This is a bad idea, Sirius. You shouldn't have come," Remus hissed beside him as they – Moody, Tonks and Kingsley with them – marched through the dark marble corridors of the 9th floor down. "Sirius. It's a bad idea, and you know it. You should go back to Grimmauld."

Sirius leveled his friend with a stubborn stare as they passed one of the blue flamed lanterns that uniformly dotted the walls. They cast deep shifting shadows across their faces, making them appear goulish to one another – Remus and Moody's silvery scars caught the light and stuck out even against the deeper shadows. Somehow the flickering torches made the dim hallway feel like a descent into a cursed tomb to Sirius – his companions, the guides of Death. He hissed out a breath and pressed aside the foreboding imagery that had been conjured to his mind.

It wasn't that he disagreed with Remus. It was a bad idea. But it was a deeper betrayal of self and familial responsibility to not come. His godson had walked into a trap. An obvious trap. One where Sirius was the bait. When Snape had appeared in Grimmauld Place to inform them that Harry was headed to the Ministry, Sirius knew his time being sequestered away was over. Despite the multitude of protests and his own distrust of the hooked nosed man, he made it clear that his confinement was, and had always been voluntary, and so would his liberty. His leaving was not something they had a say in.

"If I stayed, I would have murdered the elf," Sirius muttered back lowly, and remembered the way Kreacher snickered and muttered under his breath. The thin, waxy, tallow skin around his jaundiced eyes pulled tight in a flimsy effort to hide his cruel mirth, and his puce lips pursed into a knowing sneer. "If you want to be the one to explain to Hermione why Kreacher's head is mounted on a spike in the hallway with the rest, I'll go back."

Remus bowed his mouth down, but didn't respond.

"If you two don't shut it and get a move on, it won't matter if you kill the elf or not because Granger will most likely be dead before we get there, along with Potter and Weasley and whoever else they dragged along on their fool's errand," Moody snarled from ahead of them as they reached a plain black door.

Tonk's caught his eye and rolled her's with a small shake of her head as they headed through the door.

"I saw that," Moody growled.

They were in a circular room with at least a dozen doors surrounding them. Between each of the identical doors was a blue torch. Some of the doors had a glowing red 'x' burning on them. He was unsure what that meant. Perhaps a mark for already tried doors?

"You see everything," Kingsley added dismissively after incanting a spell under his breath and sweeping his wand around him. "Can you see what's ahead, what door do we need?"

Moody's eye swiveled with its nauseating independence scanning the identical doors around them before pointing to a door to the left of them. "There. We better get a move on. Potter and his pals don't look so good," he said, immediately beginning to hobble his way to the door, his staff hitting the floor with an echoing click with every step. "It looks like Weasley had an unfortunate run in with some brains."

The grimace on Kingsley and Tonks' faces made it clear that they knew exactly what Moody was talking about. Sirius shared a confused look with Remus but neither asked. They didn't have time to wonder about the oddities around them as they rushed through the door.

Hermione's lungs burned. Her legs burned. Her heartbeat was a staccato in her ears. Her mind was a vortex of half thoughts, too frantic to complete.

She sprinted down a corridor, her feet slapping the black marble floor. The sound of curses being shouted her way and bright flashes of light narrowly missed her and disoriented her with the accompanied reflection on the floor. The events that brought them to this cold and dark series of hallways was so distant and scrambled in her mind, that she could barely think. All she knew was that Sirius wasn't here. A fact that she should be grateful for, but the futility of the danger they had put themselves in just put an amalgamated lump of frustration, shame, and regret in her stomach that sat alongside the boiling hot fear.

When Harry had a dream that Sirius was held captive by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione could only bring herself to push for the bare minimum of caution– and, loathed as she is to admit it, trusting Kreacher to tell them honestly if Sirius was still at Grimmauld had been shortsighted. The whole thing was dumb, foolish, utterly irresponsible. They had even been caught by Umbridge, using the floo. Everything after happened in a blur.

Hermione knew it was likely to be an ambush. Everything in her warned that it was a trap, but she didn't push for reason as much as she should have, and that very well could get them all killed. But, the off chance that they really had Sirius– that she could lose him, that Harry could lose his family again– she wouldn't be able to live with herself if they didn't do something.

And now here they were, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and herself, running for their lives from Death Eaters bent on murdering them and stealing the glass ball that contained a prophecy that Harry had been tricked into retrieving.

They ducked into a doorway in an attempt to evade their pursuers. The sound of curses followed them into the small inlet of rooms they found themselves in, more distant than they had been moments before, but that did nothing to slow the hammering in her chest and the pounding in her ears.

"Colloportus!" she hissed to seal the door, repressing a shudder at the unsettling squelch that accompanied the spell.

She gasped and tried to catch her breath. Inhaling through her nose and letting out low whistling breaths through her lips. Harry, Neville, and her had gotten separated from Luna, Ginny, and Ron. Not knowing what happened to them tied her stomach in knots but she had to put them out of her mind. She needed to focus. Focus on breathing, focus on tracking who was following them, and where they were going. The back of her mind involuntarily recounted the story of Theseus entering the Labyrinth to slay the Minotaur. But she wasn't Theseus, she felt more like a tribute. A sacrifice to appease the beast that would consume her.

Her lungs seemed shrunken, and inadequate to process the necessary amount of oxygen to alleviate the lightheadedness her panic was inducing. The utter quiet that filled the air between shouts and flashing lights outside their room; the inconsequential pauses between bursts of sound became compressive and cloistering to her lungs and ribs. Not even the consolation that Sirius wasn't there, that he wasn't held captive as they had feared him to be, was enough to bring her the sweet relief of a full breath. Blind panic was a hard beast to master. Everything was moving too fast around her. The last few months, days, hours all blended in her mind like a dizzying mélange.

"What do we do?" she asked, unable to ignore the trembling in her voice.

How did this all start? How did they end up here in the Department of Mysteries? What made her so foolish to ignore the voice inside her head telling her again and again that it was a trap? Of course Sirius wasn't stupid enough to get captured by the Death Eaters. What cause would he have had to leave Grimmauld alone? He was reckless, but not that reckless.

She had just proven to be the reckless one.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start. Let's get away from this door…" said Harry, leading them away from the doorway, trying to tiptoe their way through the glittering room of clocks and past the iridescent Bell jar containing the looping life of a small bird.

Hermione did her best to ignore the stab of sympathy for the creature, forever trapped in its cycle of death and rebirth, but never having a chance to properly live its life as it was designed to. She looked away as they passed, her eyes alighting on a table of pocket watches and hourglasses, and a row of neatly hung Time Turners. She paused. Her eyes flicked to the two boy's ahead of her as she hesitated. She reached for one of the familiar devices and lifted it off the peg it hung from.

Later when she thought of that moment, she could never fully understand what made her take one. Perhaps the idea of a second chance to fix things, should they go wrong? She had never been prone to thoughtless thievery. Sure, she had pinched a few potion ingredients, and she may have held a certain beetle hostage, but those had all been weighed with their pro's and con's. Breaking the rules– or in some cases, the law– was not something she went into with a blasé attitude. But that was a thought for another time. A calmer, quieter time, when she didn't have to worry about being cursed in the back by much more competent wizards.

The cool metal of the pendant was gripped in her hand as they neared the next door when they all heard the loud thud behind them against the door making them flinch. "Stand aside," a gravelly voice ordered. "Alohomora!"

The door swung open just a moment after Harry, Hermione, and Neville dove under the desks of the small lectern area of the room.

She held her breath as one of the lights grew brighter and their footsteps drew nearer. She lifted her own wand up, ready to cast something to protect herself, even knowing that it would just draw more of the Death Eaters her way.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the first voice.

"Check under the desks," said the other.

The next few seconds were a blur. She heard Harry shout a stunning spell from where he hid and the sound of a thud as the Death Eater fell with a flash of red light, prompting her to get up from her hiding spot and get moving. The Death Eater, still standing, pointed his wand at her and started forming the words before she could register that she had lowered her own wand in her haste to move quickly.

"Avada–!" The curse was interrupted by Harry body-slamming into the dark wizard. His thin frame caught the larger adult around the knees, the momentum sent them sprawling on the ground with a loud smack.

Neville shouted a disarming spell from behind an upended desk, causing both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands to go flying towards the exit. Both scrambled to retrieve their wand with Neville at their heels.

"Get out of the way, Harry!" No sooner had Harry dove out of the way, did Neville's stunning spell zipped past in a shot of red light reflected in the silver of the Death Eaters mask as it missed him by inches and crashed into glass cabinetry.

Hermione, finally grasping her bearings enough to catch up with them, watched as the man snatched up his wand. He swung around, his wand already aiming for them. With a snap of her elbow and wrist she shot her wand forward with a shout;

"STUPEFY!" just in time to cut the Death Eater's own stunner off in the middle. His wand dropped before he fell back, like a cut tree, to land on the table with the Bell jar, his mask falling off. His head slid through the glass of the Bell jar, like it wasn't really there at all. "Accio wand," she summoned Harry's wand from the door frame before tossing it to him, nodding at his thanks.

"Right, let's get out of–" Harry started to say but was interrupted by Neville's horrified exclamation.

They turned to look at the Death Eater in the Bell jar, and to Hermione's alarm, she watched as his head rapidly de-aged into an infant and then reversed and rapidly went through adolescents, the cheeks losing their soft roundness, facial hair sprouting quickly. It reminded her of those nature documentary's her mother would occasionally record on the VCR.

"It's time," she couldn't help voice her observation as she watched the head shrink once more. "Time…" It fascinated her. Hermione felt her mind settle as she observed the magical reaction as she disassociated from her near death. She let herself be entranced by the curiosity of it. The magic of time was still a mystery. They had figured out how to utilize it to a degree, but how and why it worked was never discovered by the magical researchers. Because of this, the authorization of devices that utilized time magic was sparsely granted, and all spells and potion recipes were kept under Ministry lock and key. She squeezed the Time Turner in her hand, as though to make sure it was still secure in her grip.

Hermione was one of the few who had been allowed use of a time manipulation device outside of the Ministry researchers. Dumbledore had petitioned for her use of one in her third year, and had McGonagall vouch for her responsibility. It had been a huge honor and show of trust in her ability to manage herself appropriately, but it also had been seen as an experiment by the Ministry. It was never fully discussed, but she knew she had aged herself through the frequent use of the Time Turner. How much exactly, she was unsure. Perhaps enough to age herself a few months, or even a year. All the calculations she had run seemed to be inconclusive and the Unspeakables she had been interviewed by when she returned the contraption seemed to warrant the same non-conclusive results. What other side effects that may have resulted from that year she didn't know completely. Though, sometimes she felt like her sense of time was different than others. Like she could feel it pulling at her when she was in a state of liminality. Those unfocused moments during study sessions when the mind wanders away from itself, or when half asleep and the waking world and dreams merge.

A crash and a scream from another room brought her back to the situation at hand. Harry immediately reacted, yelling in alarm for their missing friends. She didn't have time to worry about the fact that Harry had given their position away, her attention stayed fixed on the Death Eater. He had pulled his head out of the Bell jar in his state of infancy. The tall lumbering body juxtaposed by the wailing baby head resting on its shoulders made a horrified shiver run down her back. It was like something out of a bad horror movie she and her father would occasionally watch.

"Harry!" she yelled, in alarm as the baby-man flailed and nearly clothes-lined Harry.

Harry ducked and got ready to retaliate, but despite her revulsion, she couldn't help herself from grabbing Harry's arm as he lifted his wand arm to attack.

"You can't hurt a baby!" In all honesty she didn't know the exact ethics of this situation but she'd rather err on the side of caution than lose sleep over it later. If they got out of this fiasco.

They didn't have time to argue, though, as footsteps and voices started heading in their direction, following Harry's shouts for Ron, Ginny, and Luna. They ran, Harry leading them to a hallway. They spotted two more Death Eaters through a doorway, heading straight for them. Harry dove for a small cluttered office and she and Neville rushed in after them.

Hermione was quick to turn to the door Neville had shut behind them and began casting a door locking spell, but the Death Eaters were quicker. They burst through the shut door and simultaneously shouting:

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

The force of the spell knocked all three of them off their feet. Neville flew over a desk, and Hermione felt herself launched into abookshelf. The pain of hitting the edges of the shelves were quickly forgotten as an avalanche of heavy texts snowed over her and knocked the wind out of her.

"WE'VE GOT HIM," one of the Death Eaters shouted, his voice gleeful. Hermione worked her arms free as he continued. "IN AN OFFICE OFF–"

She got her wand arm out and pointed it at the one screaming. "Silencio!" The man went silent, his mouth visible through the hole in his mask still working for a moment before he realized he wasn't making any sound.

As Hermione worked herself out of the pile of books she heard Harry shout: "Petrificus Totalis!" and watched as the second Death Eater's arms and legs clamped down rigidly and fell face first into the marble, his metal mask clanking against the ground.

Hermione grinned. "Well done, Ha–"

A flash of purple caught her eye and in a split second she felt a quick line of fire lash into her torso.

"Oh," was all she could say before black curled around her vision like an aperture lens shuttering closed. Numbness rushed down her legs and she folded to the floor. The last thing she heard before everything vanished was Harry screaming her name.

Sirius heard shouting and a sickeningly familiar voice croon out a spell that had his blood running cold:

"Crucio!"

Screaming followed. He rushed ahead of Tonks, Moody, Kingsley, and Remus, ignoring their yells at him to slow down. He burst through a door that led to a dark lectern hall, not paying attention to the questions that his mad cousin was asking to the kids he had come to rescue. For a split second all he saw was red, before he came back to himself enough to assess the situation. It was a circular room that depressed into a lecture hall. At the center of the depression was a large dias, and an archway at the bottom with a rippling ephemeral curtain draping across it like a wedding veil over a bride's face. The room vaguely reminded him of a colosseum, with theater seating graduating up from the bottom.

His eye's zeroed in on the rat's nest that constituted the head of Bellatrix. Tonks from behind him, was already casting stunning spells at Death Eaters below them. He rushed down, hopping down rows of the lectern's benches. Before he could make it to his intended target he was intercepted by a masked Death Eater who initiated a duel.

Huffing in exasperation he slashed a stunning spell only for the robed figure to step out of the way, throwing his own red jet of light wide. They went back and forth, his attention carefully kept focused on his opponent even as he registered someone across the room dropping to the ground. They were moving quickly through the room, passing by Harry and another boy before Sirius ducked down.

"Everte Statum!" Unprepared for his opponent's sudden change in orientation, the Death Eater flew backwards, flipping head over heels until he crashed into a bench unmoving.

"Now Potter–" The accented words caught his attention in the din of the room. He glanced up to see a man he recognized as Dolohov make a downward slash with his wand towards his godson. a burst of purple light burst towards Harry at the same moment Harry shouted a shield charm.

Sirius was up and running even as Harry tripped over another boy's flailing legs. With a mighty push Sirius dove low and crashed his shoulder into the ribs of Dolohov's back, flinging him away from the boys. Dolohov faced him with an ugly scowl and didn't waste time trying to get Sirius out of his way. They parried back and forth. Sirius had to move quickly to block and dodge out of the way but he couldn't help feeling exhilarated. There had always been something about dueling that exercised his mind in a way that few other things could. Having to actively track his opponent's moves and predict their next attack, simultaneously formulating a plan of action, all the while having to move fast enough to stay alive. He couldn't help the grin that formed on his face as he sent a blasting curse that had Dolohov diving away from an exploding bench. Everything else fell away during a good fight.

Dolohov didn't let up, though, and came back at him. With his wand raised over his left shoulder, he began to slash downward in a diagonal in a move that he had seen Harry block earlier. Sirius began to form a shield charm but Harry moved quicker than either of them.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together like a toy soldier, and he crashed backwards onto the floor.

"Nice one!" Sirius cheered, shoving Harry's head down as a stunning spell rocketed towards their heads. "Now I want you to get out of–" They ducked again, Sirius pulling Harry down with his grip on his arm, as a flash of green light shot over them. He felt his heart drop when he glanced across the room to see Tonks slumping on the stone steps. Bellatrix laughed in triumph as she ran from her unconscious niece, to continue battling the other Order members. It brought him back down to Earth. Wrong shade of green. It was the wrong shade of green. Tonks is going to be okay, he repeated to himself pulling his attention back to Harry. "Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!"

He didn't let himself think about the other kids. He had seen a few flashes of red hair as he dueled but he didn't know where they were, and he hadn't seen Hermione at all. He couldn't bring himself to ask after her. He didn't know how he would handle it if… he didn't even have time to think about that. He had to focus on Harry and Neville. The two he had eyes on. His boy, his godson, and his friend who was Alice and Frank's child.

More flashes of green zipped through the air. Harry lurched towards Neville and he saw Kingsley battling against a newly unmasked adversary that he soon recognized as Rookwood. He didn't have time to waste. Sirius knew where he was needed, and that was to take Bellatrix down. She was unhinged. Her god was Voldemort and his praise was the only thing she venerated.

"Bellatrix!" he shouted to grab her attention away from where she was throwing curses at Remus.

She turned. Her silver eyes lit up in a twisted mirror of his own. Familial eyes.

"Oh, it's my baby cousin! Did you come to play, too?" she crooned, twirling her wand into the chaotic coils of hair that hung around her face.

"I don't really feel like entertaining you, Bella," Sirius said dryly, blocking the red hex that she suddenly shot towards him. It didn't surprise him, Bellatrix had always been an impulsive and rude duelist. She fought dirty. Which was fine by him, he didn't mind fighting dirty either. "But, you never did take no for an answer."

They danced around each other vollying curses and hexes recklessly. The sounds of the others fighting fading away, their focus zeroed in on each other.

Darting around a flash of green, he dropped to the floor and slid across the marble on his knees with a quick shout, "Rictumsempra!"

"Really, Siri?" Bellatrix sneered, dancing away from the flash of teal. "A tickling spell? Are worried you might hurt your cousin, Bella?" Red shot from her wand tip and flew past his ear.

"At least I'm trying to be creative. I fear you lost your imagination with your mind," Sirius countered casually. Stepping back, he nearly tripped on the step of the dias. He sent a silent stunning spell, which she blocked with a shielding charm and darted forward to chase him up the platform.

"Confringo!" This time Bella dove out of the way, the blast from the spell exploding behind her. She looked up at him with rage fueling the crazed look in her eyes. He started laughing at her, knowing that the angrier she got the sloppier she'd be.

"Oh, now you start using big boy spells!" she goaded in turn. He would have rolled his eyes at her if it didn't mean a split second of inattention. "Auntie Walburga might have actually been proud of that one."

He let out a hissing breath, trying to temper the burst of hatred he felt at the mention of his mother.

The next exchange was a flurry of spells being passed back and forth as they circled each other. Sweat began to dampen the fibers of his shirt and the heat from all of the magical discharge was filling the room up. He was forced to back up a few steps and felt a cool breeze hit his back and whispers curled into his ears. He realized that he was standing in front of the stone arch, the gauzy, fluttering curtains, grazed along his arms like a lover's caress. He ignored it, it wasn't important. The only thing that was important was that Bellatrix was still standing.

Another jet of red shot over his head as he ducked. Once again he barked out a laugh at her.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled. But he wasn't quite prepared for the second stunning spell that shot out from her wand in quick succession to the first.

It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled back.

Hermione floated in darkness for what felt like a long time. It was quiet and peaceful and not altogether unfamiliar. It felt like sleep in some ways, if one was conscious and not dreaming while sleeping. That's how she knew something was wrong, though. It was what made her struggle to wake, even though she partly feared to do so. But, she had too because… Because….Because, what?

Her mind felt slow, like walking to Herbology through six inch mud and clay after it had rained for a week. Every thought felt like it was resisting her, pulling from deep in her mind.

Oh! Her friends were in danger.

That's right. She needed to wake up and help them. They would never leave her behind, she had to be burdening them. She didn't want them to be in more danger because of her.

But, why was she unconscious? Was she unconscious? Maybe she was dead?

No…That wasn't right either.

Focus, Hermione. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes.

Focus.

Open your eyes.

Pain was beginning to build up across her torso. It wasn't that bad, though. Open your eyes, Hermione.

Dim light began to filter through her eyelids.

Open your eyes.

The pain became more intense. Suddenly it felt like a brand of fire was being held against her.

This was a bad idea! She should have stayed in the void. It was safe, peaceful, comforting.

No. NO! Open your eyes!

Pain. Pain. Pain!

She remembered now. The Death Eaters, her friends, the time room.

Wait, is that Sirius' voice?

Open your eyes!

Sirius!

Her eyes cracked open. He was there, in front of her. Not much more than ten meters away. He was beautiful. He moved like he was in a dance, and colorful lights danced with him. His grin was vibrant and confident. Wisps of hair fell from the knot at the base of his head in that way artists would romanticize with lazy but precise brush strokes. His wand strokes were swift and sure like a predator through his duel.

She watched him, feeling her own fight leave her as a new sense of safety and security filled her. The pain was too great to bear, and she felt herself slipping. But that was okay. Sirius was here. He'd keep her safe. He always kept her safe.

Her vision fell away.

To follow Route B go to the title: To Give Sorrow Words