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Chapter Four- The Reason



Remus woke to a pounding headache.

His right arm was numb, his lips were cracked and dry and he was pretty sure that the slightest noise would cause his ears to bleed. The sombrero was no longer on his head, and some of the events of last night were hazy at best. He couldn’t really remember whether he had left the hat in the Hospital Wing, or if it had fallen off at some point, without his knowledge.

Gingerly, Remus sat up, and shrugged (with much difficulty, mind you, he did have a body sleeping on him) his left arm out of the Hawaiian shirt. Manoeuvring to a better position so he didn’t wake Hermione, he shifted his other arm out as well, until the shirt was crumpled behind him.

Then, he laid back again, closing his eyes and sighing.

Hermione let out a breathless moan of agony.

Remus started.

He stared at the girl, monitoring her face for any more signs of life. She delivered; writhing and whimpering, her face contorting as though she were having a nightmare.

“Harry…” she whispered, and her voice was broken. “Harry, please- Ron… No, no, take me. Don’t hurt them, take me, take me please, please.”

“Hermione,” Remus said, quiet enough to not wake the others, but loud enough for her to hear. “Hermione, wake up. You’re safe here.”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect; she started thrashing, wriggling and kicking her legs out. Her words came out as desperate pleas, over and over again: “Take me, not them. Not them, please.”

“Hermione.”

Even Remus was surprised at how forceful he sounded, but it worked. She jumped abruptly, leaping away from him, although their limbs were still tangled and he blushed at their close and rather intimate proximity.

Hermione was confused. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes stung; she must have been crying. She remembered why, of course. Remembered what had triggered such a reaction out of her.

The events of Malfoy Manor came crashing back and she closed her eyes, feeling the faint pain from that day. Harry and Ron's screams echoed distantly.

Hermione started crying again, and Remus was quick to wrap his arms around her. She snuggled into his chest, seeking the warmth and comfort he was willing to give. His long fingers weaved themselves into her hair and, like what he'd done to Sirius many times before to calm the other boy down, he began running his fingers through her curls. She sighed.

"They're gone..." Hermione whimpered. And she hated how weak she sounded.

Remus didn't comment on the tone of her voice. He didn't ask who 'they' were, although he had a vague idea. He simply rested his chin on the top of her head, fingers still locked in her hair. "It's okay," he said gently. "You're here with me. You're safe now. You're safe."

He didn't know what time it was, but judging by the other three's sleeping figures, Remus assumed that it was extremely early in the morning, too early even for him.

He was about to close his eyes and try and get back to sleep, when Hermione spoke.

"Thank you, Moony."

Remus stiffened. But she didn't seem to notice his discomfort, as she was already out like a light.

He couldn't remember whether or not his friends had referred to him as that nickname in her presence, with them all being as drunk as they were. It wouldn't really matter; they did it all the time, and no one had cottoned on as of yet.

What threw Remus off was the familiarity and love with which she said it. And when he finally drifted off, his mind was plagued with a werewolf, a full moon and a lonely girl with brown hair.

oOoOo

"Oi."

Hermione stirred.

"Hey."

She grumbled something and nuzzled her head deeper into the warm pillow she was leaning against.

"How come Moony gets to sleep in and we don't?" She heard Sirius' grumpy voice ask.

"Because Moony has a girl sleeping on him, and deserves the extra few minutes seeing as Moony's supposed friends got him ashamedly drunk last night," Remus replied, his voice sounding as though the Gryffindor prefect was half-asleep still. His chest rumbled, and his voice was a loud but soothing noise in her ear.

"Well that hardly seems fair. We were drunk too!" James said.

"Yes," Remus agreed. "But that was of your own accord."

"Reemmuuss," Sirius whined, poking his friend in the side.

"Be quiet Sirius, you sound like a spoilt puppy," Hermione mumbled, and they all looked at her in surprise. James and Remus took one glance at Sirius' mortified face and began laughing uncontrollably.

Hermione grumbled something and sat up, knowing that her pillow wouldn't stop moving until his amusement had subsided, which didn't seem likely anytime soon.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the room. She frowned at first, wondering where on earth she could be, and then she remembered.

It all came hurtling back like a bad dream; the battle, Draco, Sirius, James, Peter, Remus. Ron. Harry.

Hermione choked back tears, then chastised herself furiously. You are stuck here whether you like it or not. Woman up, Hermione. You've fought in a bloody war, for crying out loud.

With this resolution set strong and firm in her mind, she took in the scene before her.

James and Remus were still laughing loudly, and Sirius was still looking sour. The fire was crackling in the hearth, and she spotted a motionless body in the far armchair, signalling that Peter was the only one fast-asleep.

Hermione knew that she was going to have to get up now. She stretched her legs, yawning, and looked at the boys in front of her.

"What time is it?" She asked curiously.

Sirius cast a look at James and Remus, who were only now sobering up, before he grabbed James' wrist and looked at the time on his watch. Although in his haste, (and his frustration at the other two most likely contributed also) he yanked his friend by the arm too vigorously, resulting in James teetering and waving said arm wildly in an attempt to break free.

Hermione snorted at the scene. They really were a bunch of idiots.

"It's..." Sirius said slowly, squinting at the glass face. "Merlin's Beard, James. Stop moving! It's 1:00."

Her eyes bugged out of their sockets.

As strange as it sounded, she'd never really had the chance to sleep in to any time past 9 o'clock. There were always lessons to get to, homework to do, horcruxes to hunt.
Hermione realised that maybe life in the past wouldn't have to be all that awful... Maybe she could finally have the childhood she deserved.

But as she raised her head and caught sight of the three boys before her, she knew that wasn't possible. With an aching chest, she knew that she couldn't just sit there and let Lily and James die again, watch Peter get coerced by the promise of power and greatness, let Sirius get convicted for murdering his two best friends, watch Remus have to face Moony by himself.

Dumbledore's words echoed in her head, bouncing off every cavern of her mind:

"Bad things happen to those who meddle with time."

Considering this, Hermione felt torn. She bit her lip hard.

For as long as she'd known, she'd been the one who played by the rules; the one who always did what was right, not what was easy.

But would it be easy? She'd be changing the entire future. If that wasn't a monumental task, then Hermione didn't know what was.

Maybe it was time for her to do something out of the ordinary. She'd broken the law before, countless times. She'd faced Voldemort behind Harry. She was the brains.

So why wasn't her brain working?

Would it be worth it to mess with the intricate balance of time? To cut a few strings and forge a few paths here and there?

Surely, doing it for The Greater Good was a good enough reason? Surely saving two lives, and as a consequence, so many others, was better than just sitting back and letting the carpet roll out as planned?

But could she find it in herself to walk down that carpet if she did?

"Hermione?" Harr- no, James' concerned face loomed into her vision. She smiled, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt.

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely, looking at each of them, not only referring to the time. Then she averted her eyes to the floor. "I'm glad that I fell on you," she added, half-jokingly.

Sirius grinned. And there was quiet for a few minutes.

Remus stood up beside her and stretched out his long limbs. He moved across the small area to where their fourth friend was sprawled across the armchair, and stared at him for a while. Then, the werewolf kicked the bottom of the recliner, and the chair went flying forwards, jolting the sleeping boy with it.

Peter’s eyes shot open, squealing, and James and Sirius began guffawing again. Remus simply raised an eyebrow, although Hermione noticed the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

She rolled her eyes, muttering “Boys,” under her breath and walked over to the nearest book-covered wall. She ran her finger along the spines, sighing blissfully. There were so many books! This truly was her idea of heaven.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her white oxford that Dumbledore had transfigured just yesterday and began reading the titles, scanning them for something that looked interesting. She didn’t particularly care what, she just needed to read something.

Something to take her mind off of reality.

She was so lost in her search, that she didn’t notice the figure leaning against the bookcase in front of her until she walked into him. Startled at the sudden body in her way, Hermione stumbled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Remus didn’t even seem to be affected by her barrelling into him. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. You like books?” He asked, nodding towards the walls encompassing the room. Then he blushed at the stupid question.

Hermione laughed slightly. “Yes. They’re somehow able to completely take me away from all the unwanted hostility. Harry and Ron could never understand that. They had each other, but, being the only girl, I needed some… sort of respite. Quidditch talk just didn’t seem to appeal to me, I have to admit!”

Remus chuckled, glancing over at his friends, who had found a purple splodge of colour on the back of Peter’s neck, and were busy trying to remove it, but only ended up turning other parts of his body various colours. Somehow Hermione had a feeling that this wasn’t by mistake. She’d known Sirius in the future and, despite what she initially thought, he was an accomplished and intelligent wizard.

“I know what you mean,” Remus replied quietly, and she looked at him. “I mean, they’re my best friends and I would never want that any other way, but a little time away from… everything else is nice. It’s welcome.”

Hermione knew exactly what that ‘everything else’ entailed, although she didn’t comment, just smiled again softly.

Her eyes returned to the library, perusing for any title that looked interesting when she found it, her favourite, and she was drawn to it with just as much fervour as when she was eleven years old; Hogwarts: A History.

Hermione reached up, having to stand on her tip-toes to reach it properly, and her sleeve fell even further down her arm.

That’s when she realised.

That’s also when Remus saw it.

His mouth dropped to form an ‘O’ shape. His skin went pale. His eyes were glued to the ‘Mudblood’ scar that Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into her flesh.

She only noticed that he’d seen it by the harsh intake of breath, and Hermione quickly retracted her arm to pull her sleeve down, but it was futile.

“Hermione,” Remus said faintly. “What was that?”

She cleared her throat, eyebrows furrowing, but the act was shifty; her nervous disposition obvious to anyone who looked. “What are you talking about?”

“I-” he broke off, swallowing and running a hand through his hair. In a split second decision, where his eyes flicked to her blasted forearm, his hand flashed out and grabbed her wrist. Gently. Not hard, at all. He brought it, struggling and twisting, closer to him so he could look again. Hermione closed her eyes and stood limp. She knew there was no point. Remus had seen it, and he was bound to be curious.

With his eyes on her arm, greedily but hesitantly taking in every inch of bare skin, he rolled the sleeve further up. And let out a small noise.

“What-” Remus looked up at her raggedly. “What happened, Hermione? How-”

The other three boys seemed to feel the sudden change of mood in the air, and looked over. Sirius frowned, taking in his friend’s sickly pallor.

“Remus, are you okay?”

“I-”

“Remus, what on earth are you doin-?”

James stopped short, both in speaking and walking. “Fucking hell…”

“What?” Peter asked. “What’s going on?”

“Hermione…” James said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Then he winced. “Fucking bloody bumbling hell…”

Hermione tried to drag her arm away, biting her lip when Remus wouldn’t let go. She would try snaking it out of his grasp, but she knew that would be a lost cause; he was a werewolf, and although he didn’t look it, he was remarkably strong.

“It’s nothing,” she said shakily, attempting to switch everyone’s attention.

Sirius began striding towards the others now, fed up of being left out of whatever was going on.

“What is all the fuss about-” If Hermione had not known him, she would have been scared of him. In that moment, she recognised immediately the look of anger in his dark eyes.

The intensity that sparked in them made her heart jump to her throat. He prowled forward slowly, stretching his fingers out to trace the lines on her skin.

“Hermione. What happened to you?” He asked in a low voice, and when he met her gaze, she felt breathless.

Of course it was different for her. Hermione had known him in the future, had held respectable and intelligent conversations with him, had argued over his Godson’s welfare, for Christ’s sake. But for Sirius, he had only known her for a day. Not even that. And yet this emotion in his eyes, this deep burning rage at the scar inflicted by his own cousin was real.

“I-” Hermione was, for once, at a loss for what to say. And then, she remembered her resolution earlier. If she truly was stuck in the past, and she was going to be changing the entire timeline, then the earlier she started, the better. But she didn’t feel like spilling everything now.

She needed to trust them more first.

“This might be easier if you all sat down,” Hermione said awkwardly, folding her arms across her chest. Now that she was definitely going to talk, it seemed Remus was willing to let her go.

They followed her over to the sofas, Sirius and Remus sitting next to her, whilst James and Peter took seats on the floor. Remus was still pale. Peter looked like he was going to be sick.

“I-I really don’t know where to begin,” Hermione started. Then she laughed weakly, although the sound was devoid of any real emotion. It just acted as an effect to fill the silence, with no real effect at all. “Before I came to be here… I was fighting… in a war.”

She cringed, hating how dramatic it all sounded. She supposed it was, judging by their horrified expressions. But for Hermione, she’d grown up knowing that a war was slowly brewing, that she would inevitably have to fight in one. She was accustomed to war.

“That’s why I looked like I did. Why I was cut and bleeding and dirty. I don’t remember all of it. Honestly, I can only remember red and green, pain and death. I can remember people screaming and people dying and I remember the fear of having someone you loved next to you one minute, and have them dead the next..."

The boys hung onto her every word, enraptured.

"The- the scar on my arm, I got from a nasty woman. She was insane. Always laughing and mocking and always looking for someone t-to t-torture. She had me and my friends captured at Mal- a Manor." Hermione forgot about where she was, only remembering where she had been. She stared into the fire, the events of that day playing out as though she were reliving it over again. "She thought that we'd stolen something from her, but we hadn't. She screamed at us, tortured us under the Crutiatus Curse. Nothing. So she realised she would have to resort to more... Personal methods... That's how she carved that word into my arm. She was a Pureblood, one of those that believe they rule the world," Hermione said bitterly, her finger running over the scars. Her eyes cleared abruptly and she stared at Sirius. "I still remember Harry and Ron's screams. I can see the life fading from their eyes and I've forgotten whether that's real or my imagination and I feel so guilty. I can still hear them when a room goes very quiet, like...like my past is haunting me. And I-I am scared. And I'm not sure what sort of Gryffindor that makes me, but I am scared."

Tears leaked out of Hermione's eyes. No one said anything for a while but Hermione was glad for the momentary solace. She felt a huge relief. Like a heavy weight had been partially lifted off of her shoulders, for the time being.

"The past can hurt. Trust me, I fucking know," Sirius said quietly and Hermione's heart hurt at how sad he sounded. "But the way I look at it is you can either run from it, and live in fear your whole life... Or you can learn from it, and do something better."

His hand found hers and he squeezed her fingers tightly.

Hermione knew straight away what he was talking about; his family. The same family that her torturer in the future would come from...

It amazed her how two people could come from the same background and grow up so differently. How one could become a saviour, and the other; a monster.

"And if it ever catches up to you, we're here," James added, smiling lopsidedly.

"Yeah," Peter agreed, nodding. "We might not know you that well, but we know you enough. You're a good person, Hermione. It wasn't your fault."

And then, Remus said something that Hermione swore she would never forget:

"Everything happens for a reason. It's just some things require a search, and some require a brain. But all require a heart.

"Don't feel bad, Hermione, just because you haven't yet found that reason."