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Chapter Seven- The Story



Her eyes opened slowly, sleep still dragging them down.

They ached with an impossible drowsiness that had Hermione debating rolling over and falling back to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind was alert now and she almost groaned when she saw the time. It was only 4am. She had at least two hours before she could actually get up and go anywhere, without waking one of the boys.

She tried to stretch her fingers, but found that her left hand was still clasped loosely in James’, who had his face pressed into the pillow. His mouth was wide and gaping, drool oozing from his lips, which every now and then moved to form inaudible words. Hermione felt herself smile at him, and let her finger brush over his knuckles.

Someone was snoring, and she was fairly sure it was Peter, judging from the wheezes that followed. Turning onto her other side, she was startled by how close Sirius was to her. Their noses were inches apart and every breath that escaped from his lips caressed her cheeks. Hermione took this time to admire just how beautiful he really was. He had unfairly long eyelashes, framing his dark eyes, which were closed but fluttering; his skin was flawless, with no imperfections whatsoever. Although, as he shifted slightly, she noticed a small beauty spot near his hairline and bit her lip. Of course he had a beauty spot.

As he wriggled again, Hermione felt something tighten around her waist and looked down quickly. Sirius’ arm had somehow found its way around her and was now trying to tug her closer. She blushed, eyes widening. She didn’t dare to remove it lest it wake him up, and the warmth radiating from him felt comfortable that Hermione didn’t know if she wanted to anyway.

Lying back, she let Sirius hold her and she stared up at the ceiling.

“Videre Per,” she whispered, eyes fixated as the wooden beams rippled into seemingly nothing. The sky outside was dark and she felt tears fall before she could stop them. No clouds marred the night, and the stars twinkled, watching down on the chaotic world below.

What was she going to do?

She brought her hand up to her face, pushing her palm into her eyes to try and stop the tears. How could she possibly cope here? She was living in a battlefield, laughing and touching ghosts.

Hermione moved her hand to her mouth, muffling the sob that threatened to choke her. She couldn’t prevent the tears, and they streamed down her face.

She couldn’t let the future play out once more. She knew it with such a resolute conviction that any other option was unacceptable. She couldn’t let James and Lily Potter die. She couldn’t let Peter lose himself to Voldemort. She couldn’t let Sirius suffer for a crime he didn’t commit. She couldn’t let Remus face Moony alone.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t she had died side-by-side with Harry-?

Hermione cut herself off, feeling sick to the stomach. How could she think that? How could she conceivably wish her life away when she had the opportunity to do so much good?

Just the thought made her both drained and giddy. Harry would have his parents. Ron would have his brother. Remus and Tonks would be able to love their son. Harry would be able to marry Ginny, just like he’d always wanted. And they’d have a big wedding with everyone they loved; Mad-Eye Moody would be there, as would Dumbledore and Cedric and Sirius and Remus and Tonks and Snape and Peter and Dobby and Fred and Lavender and Colin and Hedwig.

God, there were so many dead. And she knew that those were just the ones that came to mind. How many more people had died fighting? How many people had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort?

Sirius snuggled closer to her, nuzzling his chin into her head.

“Mmm, Kitten, what are you doing up so- Are you crying?” His drawling, tired voice turned concerned as he lifted his head to look at her.

She wiped at her face quickly. “N-no. I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Sirius… please.”

“Hermione.” He reached up to grip her wrist, gently pulling it down and peered into her blotchy eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Biting her lip, she considered lying. She considered telling him that she had had a nightmare (which was impossible as his arms around her felt far too safe) or that it was just nothing, and that he should try get some sleep. But she couldn’t. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to lie and as her face crumpled and more tears fell, she uttered brokenly, “Everything.”

In a heartbeat, Sirius had wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as was possible. One hand cradled her head, fingers woven into her hair, the other was rubbing her back. He didn’t speak; maybe he knew there was nothing to say.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” He asked, his voice quiet and soft. Wordlessly, she nodded.

Letting go of her, Sirius stood up and stepped over Remus’ sleeping form, offering Hermione a hand to help her do the same. Once they were both off the bed, he picked up his cloak off the floor and handed it to her (“In case you’re cold.”), before interlocking their fingers and slipping through the dormitory door.

The Common Room was dark, cast in shadows, and unbelievable quiet. Pools of moonlight spiralled in through the tall windows, illuminating snippets of red and gold. Hermione tightened her grip.

They walked slowly and quietly through the winding castle, checking the corridors before they turned down them for Filch or “that blasted cat.” Sirius led the way, and she only realised where they were heading as they climbed the stairs.

The Astronomy Tower.

Immediately, she felt a soothing wave of peace wash of her. During the battle, she hadn’t actually fought up here. This was the one place that wasn’t tainted, or stained with blood.

The night was fresh, and she walked over to the railing, relishing in the coldness of the metal against her feverish hands. Sirius stepped up next to her.

“I come up here a lot when I need space,” he said, leaning against the balustrade. “When I need time to myself to think, or something…”

“It’s nice,” she agreed.

“It’s quiet,” he pointed out, glancing at her. “Is that what you needed?”

Hermione looked at him. “What?”

“You needed quiet to silence the demons in your head.” His voice was knowing, bitter; like he had experienced pure torture, like he had endured it.

She just continued to stare at him, even as he looked out at the sky. “Yes,” she said finally. “I suppose you’re right.”

They let the silence lapse over their conversation, words drying on their cracked lips. The night was even more breath-taking here. It was like, if you stared long enough, at the same place, her eyes began to decipher the thousands of other stars, invisible in their clusters. They looked like celestial mist, and it struck Hermione how strange it was to think of them as so insignificant, when they amounted to galaxies.

“What were your demons saying?” Sirius asked. He didn’t sound curious, or prying, merely empty.

“That I shouldn’t be here.”

The sentence slipped from her tongue before she could bite it.

“Where else would you be?” He frowned. She sighed deeply.

“I should be fighting. I shouldn’t be safe. It’s not fair.”

His eyes shot to her, wide and incredulous. “Are you serious? Hermione, you’ve been fighting in a war. I think you deserve a break!”

“So do the people who are on Death’s doorstep. So did the dead,” she replied bitterly.

She could feel Sirius’ gaze boring into her, burning holes in her skin, but she continued to stare at the sky. All of a sudden, the burden of her knowledge felt heavy and unbearable. Her shoulders felt like they might collapse from the weight of the world. Hermione could feel her heart beating erratically against her ribcage, threating to burst through every layer of skin she had to share this with someone.

“Sirius,” she stressed, looking directly at him. She pronounced each word slowly and clearly. “There is no war going on here.”

His face turned incredulous. “Of course there isn’t, we’re at Hogwarts!”

No. That wasn’t what she had meant. She meant in this time. She meant she needed him to understand, she needed to confide in him. But how could she? How could she tell him that the girl that landed on him was from the future and had watched him die? How could she tell him what his life was going to become?

"Oh, and Miss Granger, bad things happen to those who meddle with time.”

“Bad things happen to those who meddle with time.”

Hermione was only vaguely aware of her legs giving way, and yet she felt the collision of the cold stone floor vividly. Sirius was beside her in a second,

“Hermione!” He rushed, kneeling to her level. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She licked her lips and looked up at him. “I’m so tired, Sirius,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he sat on the floor with his legs open, manoeuvring her in between them. She leaned against his chest. “I’ve got you. You can sleep now. I’ve got you.”

“Sirius,” Hermione mumbled. “Can you-?”

She trailed off.

“Anything.”

“Tell me a story?”

He paused, swallowing. It had been years since someone had asked him to do that. The last time he could remember, had been a full moon in their fourth year, one of the worst. Remus had been bloody and bruised, and had weakly asked for a story. Sirius hadn’t even hesitated.

“Yeah. Of course. Erm… Okay.” He broke off, taking a deep breath before he started, “There were once two princes, who lived in a castle far away and long ago. Now, these two princes were the bestest of friends and the closest of brothers; they loved each other more than life itself. During thunder storms, they found solace in sharing a bed. During conflict, they would hold hands. And as the eldest lay bleeding, his younger brother would tell him stories. Happy stories, with happy endings. You know the ones; with princesses and dragons and knights…” Sirius’ voice shook. “But, whilst they cared very deeply for one another, they were very different. The eldest was rash and bold. He was loud and outspoken, and he defended the poorer townsfolk to his evil mother, The Queen. The youngest, however, whilst he supposedly admired his brother, couldn’t bear to receive the beatings handed out to those who went against The Queen’s wishes. He wasn’t weak… He just played things to his advantage. Manipulated the situation to suit him. I guess you could say he was very Slytherin…

“Anyway, the older brother sneaked out of the castle to play with the town’s children. He had a lot of friends there, good friends; the type of friends you wished you had as a young boy. And the brother’s slowly drifted apart. Where once they would laugh and cry together, there was a nothingness so vapid it was painful. Their relationship was reduced to silent looks, exchanged when no-one was looking… And then Mother found out about the townsfolk children. The eldest brother was beaten and tortured and hurt and as he lay in the dining room, bleeding and broken, his brother walked in and sat with him, clutching his bruised hand. And then he left just the way he came, in silence…

“That night, he made plans to run away. To join his friends and be rid of the evil Queen once and for all. But leaving would mean leaving his little brother, his oldest friend; the one person he was sure he loved…”

Sirius trailed off, breath tickling the top of her head. Hermione stared at the ground, feeling her eyes droop with tiredness and asked quietly, “Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Leave.”

There was silence, where only the faint wind could be heard, rippling the surface of the lake, and snaking its way between the blades of grass below them. Sirius swallowed.

“Yeah. He did.”

She frowned, letting her head fall against his chest. Closing her eyes, she said, “He left him? He left his brother?”

He didn’t answer for a long time before he finally said, “Yeah.”

“I thought he loved him.”

And Sirius licked his lips, resting his chin on the top of her head. He blinked back the tears. “Oh Kitten, I loved him more than he fucking knew.”

But Hermione was already asleep.